#it's turning him into a drunkard | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

its3nvy · 5 months

Text

"Wear the hat, ride the cowboy" Billy the Kid

Summary: After drawing the wrong kind of attention at the saloon, Billy comes to your rescue. Having to pretend to be his for the night, which leads to a ‘wear the hat, ride the cowboy’ situation ;)

Tags/warnings: mdni (18+), porn with no plot, angst, size kink, riding cock, overstimulation, fingering, breeding kink, creampie, unprotected sex, rough sex, dirty talk, slight knife kink

Note : This is my first time ever writing smut and I haven't edited it a lot so this should be fun. (Tell me if it's good or not pls)

tags: f!reader, smut

word count: 3.7k

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Curiosity led you to the local saloon one evening, where Billy often engaged in poker games. The air inside was thick with the smoky residue of cigars, and the occasional clinking of glasses underscored the distant melody of a forlorn piano. As you pushed through the creaking doors, your presence hung in the air, drawing the gaze of rough patrons whose eyes bore into you with a kind of familiarity you had never known. Unaccustomed to the bold gazes and suggestive comments that swirled around you like a threatening storm, you sought refuge at the bar. A man behind it was taking someone’s order.

You looked around, your eyes finally found Billy's familiar frame, surrounded by a haze of cigarette smoke, engaged in a high-stakes poker game.

“Hello, darlin’,” a drunken man stumbled toward you.

“Hello, sir,” you gave him a small smile, trying to avoid his intense stare.

He leaned against the bar to keep his balance. “Come on, darling, don’t be such a prude. Talk to me.” His hand reached up, attempting to caress your face.

From afar, you saw Billy, his eyes—usually mischievous and full of life—met yours with a fleeting recognition. Without uttering a word, he rose from his chair, his cowboy boots echoing a heavy cadence on the worn wooden floor.

The drunken man's intrusive advances persisted, his slurred words creating an uncomfortable tension. "Don’t play hard to get, honey. I can show you a good time," he insisted, his hand becoming more insistent. Ignoring the drunkard, you turned back to the bar, hoping for intervention. The man persisted, his persistence turning aggressive. As his hand encroached upon your personal space, a shadow fell over you.

Billy's presence loomed, his gaze colder than the steel of his revolver. Without a word, he grabbed the man's hand, his grip firm and unyielding. “Leave her alone," Billy's voice cut through the clamor of the saloon, his words echoing with a subtle menace.

The tension escalated, a palpable undercurrent surging through the room. The patrons, sensing the imminent storm, shifted uneasily. Billy's eyes held yours, a silent reassurance amid the brewing chaos. The drunk man, now confronted by the notorious gunslinger, stumbled backward, a mixture of recognition and fear contorting his expression. With a final warning glare from Billy, he slinked away into the crowd.

Billy turned towards you, his eyes softening as if to assure you that the storm had passed.

"What in the hell are ya doin’ here?", he murmured, his tone both gruff and concerned as he reached you, seizing your hand and guiding you to the quiet side of the room. "I needed to go out, Billy," you replied, your voice carrying a note of defiance and desperation.

He hissed, a trace of irritation etching lines across his rugged features. "You can’t. You gotta go home. These people here are dangerous," he warned.

"And you don’t think me leaving alone would be dangerous?" you shot back, your gaze a defiant challenge to the protective facade he wore like impenetrable armor.

"Shit," he conceded, his irritation mingling with a begrudging acceptance of your undeniable truth. "Alright, I’m finishing up my round, and then we can go," Billy relented, his tone an admission of defeat. "But you play along with me, ok? If they don’t think you're claimed, they'll see you as fair game," he said, his gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that cut through the smoky haze, demanding an unspoken oath.

“Ok,” you huffed out.

He pulled you towards his table with a rough yet oddly comforting grip, a silent acknowledgment that, for a fleeting moment, you were to be sheltered from the men surrounding you as long as you stayed with him. "Wait," he murmured, his hand lingering on yours. With a swift motion, he removed his hat, worn and weathered from a life on the precipice.

You extended your hand to stop him. "Billy, you can’t," you insisted, your voice barely more than a whisper, laden with the implications of his gesture. “You know what this means.”

"That’s the point," he declared, his crooked grin returning like a bittersweet promise of protection. As he placed his hat on your head, it became a proclamation, an unspoken claim made before the watchful eyes of everyone present, and a promise of a heated night that lingered in the air like an unspoken secret.

"Now, c’mere," he commanded, pulling you towards him as he settled into his chair, drawing you onto his lap. You bit on your lips, a mixture of anticipation and fear, the heat rising to your cheeks as the proximity between you tightened like a coiled spring. This was the first time Billy had been so close, and the magnetic pull of his presence ignited an unfamiliar fire within you.

He looked up at you as you bit your lips, his gaze a silent acknowledgment of the unspoken tension that hung thick in the air.

As he resumed his poker game, you felt his breath against your neck. "Pass me the whiskey, doll," he asked.

You leaned against the table, inadvertently pulling your hips tighter into his pelvis, sensing his hardness between you. His hands reached out against your hips, gripping you and keeping you still. "Careful," he warned against the shell of your ear, his breath raising goosebumps along your neck, a sensation that heightened the electrifying energy between you.

As you handed him the glass, he took a swig, and then, with a deliberate slowness, leaned down against the side of your neck, planting a lingering kiss. "Thank you, doll," his gravelly voice murmured, the aroma of whiskey lingering in the air.

Billy's fingers grazed lightly along your waist, sending a cascade of sensations through your body. His gaze met yours once more, a silent invitation lingering in his eyes. It was then that you became acutely aware of the speculative glances from the patrons, their curiosity fueled by the undeniable connection unfolding before them.

The weight of Billy's hat on your head felt like both a shield and a beacon, marking you as his amidst the prying eyes of the saloon.

The night passed on and as the final hand of poker concluded, Billy rose from his seat, still holding you close. "Wrapping it up for the night, boys. See ya tomorrow," he declared, his voice a mix of weariness and determination.

He grabbed your hand, guiding you out with a certain urgency. The saloon doors swung open, thrusting you back into the harsh glow of moonlight. As you stopped in front of his horse, he turned around and said, "What the hell were you thinking, coming here alone? You know how they treat women here."

His words cut through the night air, a mixture of concern and frustration etched on his rugged features. The distant sounds of revelry from the saloon formed a dissonant backdrop to the charged atmosphere between you.

You met his gaze, a swirl of emotions reflecting in his eyes. "I just wanted to have one free night, Billy. Just one," you replied, your voice carrying a note of desperation. Billy's jaw clenched, a silent acknowledgment of the dangers lurking in the shadows. "This ain't the place for that, especially not for someone like you," he muttered, his grip on your hand tightening as if to emphasize the point.

The weight of his words hung in the air, and for a moment, the world seemed to stand still. The moonlight cast shadows across his face, revealing the hardened resolve etched into his expression. "I can't have you wandering into places like this, doll," he continued, a trace of vulnerability underlying his gruff tone. "It's too damn dangerous."

Billy sighed, a heavy exhale that seemed to release the tension in the air. "Let's get you home," he said, his voice softened. With a final glance back at the saloon, you moved towards his horse. As you approached, he placed his hands on your hips, lifting you onto the horse with a gentle yet firm touch. You instinctively grabbed his forearm for support, your eyes locking in a shared moment of intimacy.

The ride home was a silent journey through the cool night air, the rhythmic hooves of the horse creating a steady cadence. You sat in front of Billy, the warmth of his body enveloping you, his strong arms encircling your waist as you traversed the dimly lit trails.

As the horse navigated the uneven terrain, Billy's embrace tightened slightly, offering both stability and reassurance. His chin rested on your shoulder, his warm breath tickling your neck, and in that intimate proximity, the weight of your unspoken desires lingered like an invisible thread weaving through the darkness.

Arriving at your doorstep, Billy helped you dismount, his touch lingering for a moment longer than necessary. Your eyes met, a complex tapestry of emotions woven between you. He spoke, his words a whisper carried away by the night breeze, "Be more careful, doll. This world ain't kind, especially to those with a heart as tender as yours." He placed his hand against your cheek, caressing it lovingly.

"Billy," you responded, the ache in your voice carrying a mixture of gratitude and longing. He placed a loving kiss on your forehead, his touch a hushed plea for silence. "Go to sleep, doll. I'll come by tomorrow morning," he whispered, giving you a kiss on the forehead, turning away.

"Billy, wait," an urgency surged within you, desperate to find a reason for him to stay. You took off your hat, intending to return it to him, a feeble attempt to anchor him in the moment. “Keep it. I prefer it on you,” he remarked, a bittersweet acknowledgment that stirred emotions too complex to unravel.

Locked in a gaze that spoke volumes, you inched toward him, a silent plea lingering in the air. As your fingers tightened around the hat, a palpable tension filled the space between you. His intense blue eyes held yours, revealing a tumult of unspoken struggles and desires. Your gaze shifted to his lips—slightly chapped yet irresistibly inviting.

Closing the distance, you reached him, and, without hesitation, pressed your lips against his. The kiss was a desperate plea, an attempt to convey the emotions that words couldn't capture.

Billy's initial surprise melted into a shared passion, and for a moment, the world around you faded. His arms encircled you, pulling you close as if trying to etch the moment into his memory. As the intensity deepened, you let go of the hat, your hands finding their way to his jaw, pulling him even closer. He tasted your soft lips and felt your warm skin. He pulled away slightly, breath mingling with yours, lips lingering, an anguished pause in the silent night.

"Fuck, doll," he groaned, your foreheads leaning against one another, his hands gripping the fabric on your waist. You looked up into his eyes, witnessing the inner battle reflected in his gaze as he grappled with the decision to restrain himself or not.

You approached your lips to his cheek, giving him a slight peck, when you heard him whisper, "Fuck it." His lips crashed to yours, hungry, hot, and demanding, stealing your breath in a heated rush. His hand came up, cupping your jaw, angling your head to deepen the kiss as he slicked his tongue inside your mouth.

“Come, let’s go inside, yeah?” He asked. You nodded at him, as he gave you a quick kiss, ushering you inside, “good girl.” And in an instant, he’s moving toward you, wrapping his arms around your body and pressing you to his chest. You press your lips to his and moan at the taste of Whiskey. His tongue slides over yours in slow strokes that make your cheeks warm, but it’s when his teeth nip at your bottom lip that a whine escapes.

His rough, calloused hands drop to the cusp of your neck, gripping your hair just tight enough to make you hiss. You arch into his touch as he starts to explore your body, mapping out every dip and curve.

“Billy- Please… do something.” He moans a response into your neck as his lips slip down to leave love bites along the column of your throat.

Eager to feel you, Billy tried to pull at the strings of your corset, but to no avail. It was too complicated to remove in the dark, and with the emotions aptly blinding him, Billy had no patience to try.

In the dark, you heard a flick of a knife, and you felt a cold tip of the blade against your skin before Billy’s voice comforted you, “Be a good girl and don’t move, ok?”

A rip ran through the air as Billy sliced your corset in half from the back. You stayed perfectly still, trusting him completely to cut the clothing off of you without harming you at all. The moment Billy had cut your corset, he dropped it to the floor and pulled your top off with it.

He immediately lets his hands drop to your breasts, nipples already pebbling from the cool air. He pinches and pulls at them for only a moment before he’s trailing kisses down your stomach.

Bilily stops just above your hip bones, “May I?” he asks, blue eyes peering up at you. “Yes. Billy, please.” You beg him, voice thick with desperation. He chuckles and then rubs his hand over your throbbing clit. He slides one, then two thick fingers into your dripping pussy. A whimper bubbles from your swollen lips as he pulls back to spit on your heat. His fingers curl, digits stretching and scissoring inside you. Your head feels like it’s spinning, arousal leaking from your cunt and down Billy’s fingers.

Your hips are unable to escape his assault on your g-spot when he pins you down, and you let out a moan you hardly recognize as your own. “Shit, you’re so wet.” His teeth catch his bottom lip as he smiles down at your fucked-out form.

Billy’s hand never slows, even as he grinds his palm into your poor clit. You cum not long after, waves of pleasure crashing over and drowning you in euphoria. Your body is trembling as you come back to Earth and Billy is there, watching you from between your thighs. He places a kiss on your sensitive clit before he stands back up, towering over you.

“Please. Fuck me, Billy.” You say through heavy breaths. He feels his head spin at the sound of your voice.

“Whatever you want, doll.”

Billy lays you across the couch and crawls over you, leaning back to release his aching cock from the confines of his pants. Saliva pools in your mouth at the sight of him, pre-cum drips from his flushed, red tip.

He fists his cock at the sight of you below him, lips parted and breasts heaving. Billy leans his body over yours, trapping you between him and the cushions below you. You can feel the muscle covering his torso press against your tummy. He ruts his cock through your pussy, the head catching on your clit deliciously. You both moan at the feeling and link your fingers together.

“Fuck, you’re so perfect. I’m gonna make you all mine”, Billy coos down at you, searching your face for any hesitance. You nod at him, earning you a keen smile and a quick kiss. “It’s gonna hurt, doll, I’m sorry.” Squeezing his hand, you hold your breath when he lines himself up with your entrance.

You gasp when his tip slips into you, already feeling like he’s split you in two. Salty tears start to well in your lash line at the burn of Billy’s cock stretching you out for the first time. He’s much bigger than you anticipated and you dig your nails into his skin.

“I know, I know. Just breathe.” He tries his best to comfort you, gritting his teeth at the feeling of your cunt around him. His heart stings at the sight of you crying for reasons other than pleasure, but he can’t help it when his hips buck, pushing himself another inch deeper.

Billy knows he should feel guilty for liking the way you screw your eyes shut, the way your cunt flutters around him even though he’d worked you open already. He’s not even halfway inside you and your legs are trembling around his waist while he holds himself back from pushing in balls-deep. He can’t help but feel a sense of pride swell in his chest at the effect he has on your body.

Billy’s hand leaves yours and drops to your clit, rubbing tight circles with his thumb. Your mouth opens into an “O” shape and your sloppy cunt grants him another inch. He can feel the velvet of your walls drawing him deeper, euphoria building in your veins. With every circle drawn, Billy pushes in further and further until he’s finally buried to the hilt. He stills for a moment, letting your cock-drunk mind play catchup with your body. “I’m gonna move, is that ok, doll?”

He pulls out, making you whine at the empty sensation, then, he’s driving his hips forward again. You loop your arms around his neck as he attacks your insides. Any words you have die on your tongue as Billy sets a rough, passionate pace. His tan skin, covered in old and new scars, feels slick against yours as his cock splits your mind in half. You can feel Billy everywhere, you can taste him, touch him, smell him, see him. He’s completely overwhelmed your senses and given you nothing to think about other than him.

The air around you is humid and thick, the scent of sex swimming through it. Billy slips in and out of you with ease, the clear strings of your slick and his pre-cum coat your pussy lips like a gloss. You let your gaze fall on him, watching how his brows furrow with concentration while he molds your insides into the shape of him.

Billy lifts your hips in the air to get an angle that allows him to hit even deeper, pumping his cock into you so hard that the air is forced from your lungs. There’s no one else you could want, no one else who could ever make you feel like this.

“Shit Billy. I’m so close.” You moan, a familiar warmth starting to coil in your tummy. He nods and slots his lips against yours for one final kiss. His tongue explores your mouth as his dick strikes your g-spot, sending you headfirst into bliss. You cum hard as every nerve in your body is set aflame. His hot, sticky cum floods your walls and leaks from around his cock.

Silence lies thick in the air aside from your heavy breathing and the soft kisses you share. Billy leans back to peer down at where you’re connected and shakes his head at you.

He picks you up and places you over his hips, leaning you back. “Can’t waste this, doll.” He tuts at you, gathering the cum leaking from your abused pussy on his tip and pushing it back in. Throwing an arm behind his head, a fucked-out grin crosses his features as you sink down on his cock, letting him rub against your most sensitive spots. A strangled moan sounds in the back of your throat as he slowly pushes back into the deepest parts of your cunt.

His tongue darts out to lick the sweat off of his cupid’s bow, large hands moving to slide down your hips to grab at the fat of your ass. He guides you up and down on him as you babble and cry.

“I’ve got you, doll.” His words send a shiver down your spine and you brace yourself on his broad shoulders. Your cunt flutters around him, “Fuck Billy’-” you cry out.

Billy groans at the sight of a white ring around his shaft, made from a mixture of his and your cum. “So tight… taking me so fuckin’ well.” He bucks his hips, tip grazing your g-spot just right, just enough to make your eyes roll up into your head. “C’mon, doll.”

He leans forward to press a kiss to your forehead, then captures your lips with his. He swallows every moan and hiccup as he pounds into you, only slowing when you clench impossibly tighter around him. Stars are dancing in your vision and pleasure is burning in your veins. You hear him swear again, he lets his head fall back onto the cushions and plants his boots flat on the floor. You nearly scream as he fucks back up into you. He’s growling something in your ear, but his words sound so far away.

“Cum on my cock, doll. C’mon, do it. Do it for me.” Billy babbles in your ear as he loses his rhythm, now just slamming his hips into yours with all the force he could muster. Your arms are clinging to his neck and he has you trapped against him. White, hot pleasure hits you like a ton of bricks as you squirm on Billy’s lap. His teeth sink into your shoulder as he pumps his hot, sticky cum into your womb.

He lays back on the couch, letting you rest against his chest. With a tender touch, he leaned down, pressing a soft kiss on the top of your hair. His lips lingered for a moment. As he pulled back, his fingers began to stroke your hair slowly, each caress a testament to the unspoken passion that simmered between you.

“From now on, that hat stays on you, doll. Let everyone in town see you belong to me."

send me billy thoughts or requests pleaseee :)

#billy the kid #billy the kid x reader #billy the kid smut #william bonney #coriolanus snow #tom blyth #wear the hat ride the cowboy #save a horse ride a cowboy

5K notes · View notes

supercityboys · 1 year

Text

So I kinda am writing this RE fic but like RE cannon is actually just “cannon” so I’m using my combined knowledge of the games, books, and movie to mold Leon’s character/motivations

#mine #tryna turn this innocent baby boy into the hardened drunkard he is is actually kinda hard lmao #but I enjoyed RE Underworld (book) bc they confirmed what I felt about him #like Claire is probably the best LI… when he’s like in his 20’s #bc even he admits that he has a tendency to bond romantically with girls his age bc of the trauma #even though him and Claire would probably date under normal circumstances!!!#I plan on making Ada less elusive especially with the ending change in the 4 remake

0 notes

s0upl0ver · 3 months

Text

hello today im feeding you with my dnd fantasy yakuza au

soooo the thoughts:

ichiban - paladin (damn OBVIOUSLY)

NANBAAA - sorcerer! i was thinking about druid bc of his pigeon stuff but hes better be a little whimsical drunkard

adachi - i changed his class like three times and ended up with a cleric. there was a choice between monk and fighter because of his police job, but i want to see him connected with something spiritual sooo there he is

saeko was the hard one.. in the end i decided to give her a bard class : ) she runs a tavern! nanba loves to go there for a drink and this is how theyre met! and became like siblings to each others

joon gi - rouge! (DAMN OBVIOUSLY)

zhao - monk, very inspired by his fight style in game

seonhee - druid + tiefling hehehhohoh ^____^ geomijul is a name of the forest now and animals her informants

tomizawa BARBARIAN and chitose rouge too

soooo about kiryu...... WHAT IF there is a legend about dragon that no one could kill. he used to live among people and creatures, protecting them and keeping peace, but one day he just expelled himself. someone thinks he’s dead, someone believes he’ll come back someday… and here comes ichiban! a true hero! he decide to find this legendary dragon, thinking that this is LITERALLY A DRAGON and in the course of their adventures it turns out to be kiryu

3jimas are goblins.

#my art #yakuza #rgg #yu nanba #saeko mukoda #kiryu kazuma #seonhee #tianyou zhao

1K notes · View notes

fangswbenefits · 4 months

Text

The Arrangement (10) - A New Way

Chapter summary: Astarion always find a way back to you even in the midst of all the chaos.

Pairing: Astarion x female!Tav

Warnings: 18+. Sexual frustration. Jealous Astarion. Protective Astarion. Fingering. Masturbation. Cumplay. Innuendo. Body worship.

Word count: 7.3k

Author's note: Tumblr isn't allowing me to reply to comments ever since I changed my @... already contacted support. I am not ignoring you guys *deep sigh*

Ao3

Series Masterlist

Rivington had its fair share of taverns and inns sprawled across its busy and lively streets. It was surely a welcome change from the grim and daunting sense of dread that loomed over you when travelling across the shadowlands.

As such, the group had split to indulge in some brief moments of well deserved and welcome repose before finally reaching Baldur’s Gate.

Astarion sat across from you, subtlety eyeing his surroundings as you happily sipped your apple juice.

The sun had yet to reach its peak but the tavern was already crawling with drunkards and unpleasant crowds.

“We shouldn’t linger.” Astarion mused with arms crossed.

You nodded. “I’m nearly done.”

As much as you wished to forget about the troubling matters that haunted you, it was evident that your presence was earning some unwanted curious stares from a few onlookers.

He suddenly reached for the pouch at his hip, withdrawing a piece of fabric before extending his hand to you.

“Here.”

You took it in your hand, briefly admiring its silky texture of the handkerchief as shades of teal and green swirled together in mesmerising patterns.

Then your fingers found golden letters sewn along one corner.

Your name.

Your heart was clenched tight as you traced each letter in absolute awe.

“Astarion, this is…”

He waved a hand dismissively. “Oh, think nothing of it, darling. You’re often covered in blood and sweat and Gods know what other fluids,” he said with a curt smile. “I figured you might as well look stylish whilst wiping that pretty face of yours.”

There he was.

So easily crawling under your skin with his words and now with such a thoughtful gift that fully displayed his artistry and exceptional needlework.

A lump in your throat held your words back.

Maybe he didn’t consider this gesture all that relevant or even worthy of a lingering thought, but you did.

This was a silent extension of him.

Now you’d have him by your heart at all times.

But the moment was cut short as a loud bang rippled across your table.

A man reeking of cheap mead cackled loudly at you. He was swaying so violently it was an incredible feat that he was able to stand on both feet without losing balance.

“Oi! Aren’t you that gal from a few years ago who did magic tricks?”

Your blood ran cold at once and your insides twisted into several knots.

“I don’t think so.” you said, focusing your gaze on the drink in front of you.

You didn’t recognise him, but you silently prayed he would just drop the matter and leave.

Instead, he hiccuped. “N-No! It is you! I would never forget such a face.”

Your eyes met Astarion’s momentarily as he narrowed his crimson eyes at the loud drunkard, and you reckoned he was close to intervening.

You mustered your strength. “No. It’s not me.”

But the man was insistent as he was drunk.

He banged a hand on the wooden surface once more. “What? You are the one whose mother–”

The flash of a dagger pierced through your field of vision, landing right between the man’s fingers, the blade pressed menacingly against his thumb.

“She said ‘no’,” he said through gritted teeth, eyes flaring with contempt. “Should I teach you the meaning of the word?”

The man shuddered and cowered in fear as he strolled away as fast as his wobbly steps would allow.

But Astarion had overdone it and had simultaneously caused many heads to turn your way, voices whispering as people tried to make out what the fuss was all about.

“We’ve overstayed our welcome,” he said, sheathing his dagger as he stood up.

You remained frozen in place, still taken aback by the words the man had spewed at you.

Your mind had been kept too busy to dive back into the memories of your mother, and to dwell on what had happened so many years ago.

A shudder spread across your entire body as the sense of dread gripped you.

You felt his hand nudge your shoulder. “Now’s not the time for daydreaming, sweetheart.”

And he quickly tugged at your arm, pulling you up on your feet before the two of you scurried along the tavern and earning heavy glares.

You made it out just in time as two Fists crossed paths with you on their way inside, trying to disperse the crowd that had gathered around the entryway.

“What was that all about?” Astarion asked as soon as you were able to blend in with the passers-by.

“Nothing.”

Your mouth had gone awfully dry even though you had downed most of your apple juice, replenishing your hydration level.

He stared at you, raising a brow inquisitively. “He did actually know you, didn’t he?”

You met his gaze in a silent warning. “He must have had me confused with someone else.”

He rolled his eyes. “You’re a terrible liar, but I will not pry. We all have secrets to bear.”

You nodded, thankful for his understanding remark.

There was no point in lying to him. He could always see right through your silly attempts at deception.

“Just know that you can come to me should you need to air them out,” he added. “I know all too well how buried secrets always find a way to crawl to the surface – one way or another.”

It was a glaring testament to how he had come to terms with opening up to someone else.

He had come far in that regard and you felt proud of him.

A faint smile settled on your lips, but it faded just as quickly once realisation hit you.

“Wait!” you said, gripping his arm. “The handkerchief – I left it there. Let me–”

He patted your back. “Leave it, darling. Unless you fancy starting a tavern brawl, that is.”

Your heart dropped.

“But…”

“I will embroider you a new one.”

But he never did.

There was no point in lying to Astarion.

You were very well aware of this.

He would spot your deceit faster than a hawk could tail its prey.

But the dreadful sense of impending doom had rooted you to the sofa.

This couldn’t all just be a coincidence.

By the time the two of you had reached the room, Gale and Lae’zel had already vanished through a portal to Waterdeep to assess the situation.

“All we can do for now is wait.” Astarion said, adjusting his shirt.

Shadowheart scoffed. “This is all very odd. It’s as if something is at work against us.”

You nodded. “I agree.”

“Are the two of you in some competition to see who’s the most dramatic?” he said with a click of his tongue. “Honestly, we know nothing about what happened. Maybe his contact succumbed to self-inflicted boredom – a running theme amongst wizards.”

His sense of humour would have been welcome under different circumstances, but you were on the brink of freaking out.

“Maybe I could cast Arcane Gate and help out…” you said in a restless tone, feeling nauseous.

But the mage slayer outside kept your magic levels too low for you to successfully cast a level six conjuration spell, so it was not even an option.

Astarion immediately snorted as he joined your side. “Perish the thought. I don’t think it’d be wise to do such a thing given your condition. You might open a portal to some place infested with murderous creatures, and then I’ll have to jump in to rescue you.”

Shadowheart, who had been pacing worriedly across the room, came to an immediate halt. “What condition?”

You rubbed your temples as if it would magically dissipate the gnawing headache.

“I had too much to drink last night.”

Shadowheart’s accusatory stare immediately landed on Astarion. “What did you do?”

He scoffed dramatically. “Excuse me? I am well aware that pinning the blame on me is a recurring activity in this group, but I had nothing to do with this.”

You groaned with a wince. “Please keep your voices down…”

Shadowheart rushed to lower herself by your feet until she could eye-level with you. “Are you all right?”

No.

And it had little to do with the aftermath of your alcohol consumption.

Ava.

Your intuition was pounding ceaselessly in your mind and you just couldn’t bring yourself to ignore it any longer.

Yes, she had told you she would talk to Astarion, but your nerves were being eaten raw and time wasn’t something you could afford to spare.

“I… think I need to talk about something…” you began as a shiver tore through your body.

Shadowheart gripped your knees, her face twisted in alarmed worry. “What is it?”

You exchanged a glare with Astarion who eyed you in confusion.

“I met up with Ava last night and…” You paused briefly, pondering your next words. “She made an offering.”

His brows furrowed together. “What offering?”

You felt sweat coat your palms as your heart rate quickened in distress. “She’s under the impression someone is after us,” you said, clutching your hands together. “That whoever it is might be responsible for that dead body and us getting wrongfully arrested.”

Shadowheart was now gripping your knees firmly. “And what did she offer?”

Your leg was visibly shaking now as you were finding it harder to keep your composure.

“Apparently, when Astarion feeds on me, our blood mixes together and…”

As far as you were aware, Shadowheart wasn’t aware of his deal with Ava, so you decided to hold that information.

“She’s interested in that… mixture and wants access to it in exchange for information.”

The effect your words had was nearly catastrophic.

Shadowheart looked positively scandalised and Astarion immediately gripped your arm, snarling, “ What? ”

He was instantly on his feet and you followed suit.

“How would she even have access to that in the first place?” she asked in awe.

Astarion spoke before you could, “I’ve been giving her some of my blood as she researches ways to counter the effects of vampirism. But I wasn’t aware of this!”

“ Astarion! ” Shadowheart let out in sheer outrage. “What in the Hells is wrong with you?”

He ignored her remark, eyes fixed on you.

He was mad.

No.

He was furious.

Up until this point, you had only ever witnessed him protect Ava and vouched for her integrity, but it seemed that he was no longer interested in upholding his defence.

“She told me she would tell you of this as she only recently found out about it.”

“To Hells with that!” he snarled. “Did you agree to that arrangement?”

Silence

But that was answer enough.

“You should have told me!”

You swallowed the uncomfortable lump in your throat. “You never listen to me when it comes to her!”

He clicked his tongue in annoyance. “This is different!”

“How?!”

Crimson eyes locked with yours as he scowled deeply. “She involved you!”

His admission stunned you into silence.

It wasn’t all that common nowadays to witness Shadowheart succumb to her protective instinct to the point of no return.

But you could tell she was close to snapping when she approached Astarion, yellow flames dangerously swirled across her palms.

“Give me one good reason not to blast this Ava into oblivion,” she growled with ire. “Or you, for that matter.”

He gave her a mocking scoff. “Darling, I’d love to see you try.”

She smiled deviously and you knew it was time to intervene.

You carefully placed your hand on her arm. “Shadowheart.”

She glanced at you almost in disbelief. “‘Shadowheart’? He’s out here dealing with dodgy people and putting us all at risk! Now she’s also involved with murdering people in Waterdeep?”

Astarion let out an exasperated groan. “What connection is there between the two, then?”

In all honesty, you weren’t quite sure.

Not yet, at least.

At this point, you were allowing your gut feeling to guide you, and it could very well blow up in your face if she turned out to be innocent in all of this.

However… the warning signs were too loud to ignore.

“I… don’t know yet.”

Astarion was glaring at you with pursed lips, and you vaguely wondered if he was upset with you, or if he was actually upset that his judgement had failed him when it came to Ava.

“You can bleed yourself dry if you wish, but not her ,” Shadowheart pressed in a low voice.

“I know .” he shot back.

She took a step forward, her face dangerously close to his. “Then you’d do well to remember that my respect for you has its limits. Do not cross them.”

You tugged at her arm again, trying to put some distance in between them.

“Well, this conversation isn’t going anywhere,” he said after a while with a scoff before turning around to leave. “I’ll be in my room.”

You tried to go after him, but Shadowheart held you firmly in place. “Let him go.”

It was hard to do so, but you nodded as you sat on a nearby chair.

“I know you care deeply for him, but this is beyond ludicrous.” she said with a heavy sigh.

Her voice was that of reason, so you couldn’t fault her for being so apprehensive.

“He would never harm me.”

And you would always stand by this as sure as the sun is to rise.

“Not consciously, but by dealing with this woman, he might have opened a door to great peril.”

You nodded, avoiding her penetrating gaze. “Wyll is running a few checks on some information she gave me. I guess we’ll find an answer soon enough.”

Shadowheart’s face softened every so slightly.

“Please exert caution with Astarion,” she said, grabbing your hand. “And I’m not talking about this in particular.

Oh.

“I don’t doubt for a second that he cares for you, but I don’t want to see you bound to nightmares,” she said in a whisper. “That is no way of living.”

You took a deep breath. “Things are fine between us.”

Unexpectedly, she let out a chuckle. “Oh, I’m sure. My room is next to his and… well, let’s just say that I may have overheard him mumbling your name a few times…”

“What do you…”

Oh.

“So, just… be careful,” she pleaded as she gripped your hand fiercely. “I trust your judgement, but not his… especially not after this.

You felt your heart swell with affection for Shadowheart and you pulled her into a tight embrace, almost tearing up as you did so.

“Thank you.”

She rubbed your back affectionately and whispered, “I adore you.”

“So do I.”

It was becoming more and more apparent that standing outside Astarion’s room was almost part of a routine now.

After a few more seconds, she finally pulled back with a reassuring smile. “I’ll tell the Fists outside to inform Wyll of what’s happened.”

And it was also unnecessarily hard to reach out for that first knock.

You had waited a couple of hours before deciding on what to do.

Wyll hadn’t shown up yet and there was still no word from Waterdeep.

So, you took a deep breath and as you were about to rasp your knuckles against the door, a charming voice was heard, “I know you’re outside.”

Of course he did.

“Can I come in?”

A brief pause.“Be my guest.”

You turned the knob and rushed inside, clicking the door shut behind you.

As expected, the room was plunged in a candle-lit dimness as the curtains draped over the window kept the blazing sun at bay.

Astarion lay on his bed, resting against the headboard as he threaded his way along a piece of cloth with a needle, his eyes solely focused on the task at hand.

Your stomach turned and twisted in knots, and you realised you weren’t quite sure how to start the conversation.

A low chuckle was heard. “I’m assuming you didn’t come here to simply stare at me, darling.”

The lightheartedness in his voice made you feel slightly at ease and you shook your head. “No. I suppose not.”

This time, he did meet your eyes briefly and your heart skipped a beat.“As dashing as I am, I’d rather hear what you have to say instead.”

Right.

You cleared your throat, taking careful steps towards him before taking a seat at the feet of his bed, mindful to keep a certain respectful distance.

“I should have told you about Ava earlier on when you asked me.”

“Indeed.”

He didn’t sound upset in the slightest.

If anything, there was a faint hint of strange calmness to his voice.

“As for Shadowheart…”

He let out a snort. “Please. The day she stops worrying about you is the day I’ll find her in a casket.”

You couldn’t help out a short chuckle as he was absolutely right.

Still, you laced your hands in your lap, absentmindedly fidgeting with your fingers. “I…” you began, before drifting off as uncertainty took place. “I didn’t want to worry you.”

Astarion paused altogether and his crimson eyes were on you again.

“See, I do understand that reasoning,” he said, tugging at the thread that curled around one finger. “But considering the nature of your conversation with her, you should have told me right away.”

You nodded.

“As fruitful as my connection to her might prove to be, I cannot accept the deal you made with her.”

Your heart raced in your chest at how determined he seemed in his resolve.

However…

“If what she says is true and someone is after us, this feels like a small price to pay.”

Astarion snipped the thread with a pair of scissors before setting his handiwork on the bedside table.

The look on his face could easily make the bravest men cower in fear.

“Nothing that involves you is a ‘small price to pay’,” he said, voice low and heavy. “It’s one thing for me to willfully provide my blood, and another for her to take advantage of you so blatantly.”

You frowned deeply. “She is also taking advantage of you, then.”

“I can deal with her.”

Astarion had this tendency to sell himself short in terms of self-worth. At times, he was as confident as one could be, but the centuries of robbed autonomy and lack of genuine bond to others would often slip in and take hold.

He was probably not even aware of how easy it was for you to catch on to this, but you knew him well enough by now.

“You don’t have to.”

He rolled his eyes as he crossed his arms. “Don’t tell me what I can or can’t do.”

It nearly shattered you to hear him put up his defences around you so unbelievably fast.

There was no need for that.

“Don’t ,” you nearly pleaded. “Please don’t assume I am trying to tell you what to do.”

Just as rapidly, his features softened ever so slightly. “I apologise.”

You vehemently shook your head. “I also apologise if my words came across as condescending.”

An unsettling silence took place.

His eyes roamed across your face and you felt more exposed to him than you had ever been even when fully naked in his presence.

Even though you felt comfortable and safe with him, there were times when you wondered if it was reciprocal.

“Ava is not your concern,” he eventually said. “I will deal with her.”

You had no doubt he would.

It just saddened you that… “I know she was helping you out in more ways than one, even if I don’t particularly agree with the… method, so to speak.”

“Yet here you are, thinking that whatever bond I share with her is significant enough,” he said, voice dripping with amusement. “I am using her as much as she is using me. But I never allowed for that to extend to you. Ever .”

You swallowed as his harsh words hit you.

“That was her first mistake – involving you.”

“I took the deal freely.” you said.

“You didn’t have to at all,” he retorted impatiently. “She needs me more than I need her. So, if she knows anything about someone coming after us, she will tell me and I won’t be kind when I ask her to.”

Fair enough.

“Will you still give her your blood?”

“It depends.”

You blinked. “On what?”

“On how the conversation goes,” he said with a shrug. “Though what I do know for certain is that I will not give her blood after feeding on you.”

An impending sense of dread rose inside you and you vaguely wondered if you had just fucked up.

Information was power, and you worried that she might not take it well now that Astarion was openly against her proposal.

But to be fair, she did mention she would let him know about all of this. So, it wasn’t truly your fault that he didn’t take it well, was it?

In fact, it was very much on brand with Astarion.

His sense of loyalty to you was unwavering and transcended any arrangement the two of you had agreed to.

And that was a bond not easily severed, probably much to Ava’s dismay.

“You are off limits.”

It wasn’t a subtle warning by any means and it made your heart swell with warmth somehow. His protectiveness nearly rivalled that of Shadowheart, though you wouldn’t dare tell her this.

A faint smile curled his lips. “I have to thank you.”

You arched an eyebrow. “For what?”

He hesitated at first. “I know you mean well. I do know that.”

Oh, Astarion…

“You’re a better friend than I could ever have hoped for – or even deserve,” he went on. “It is hard at times to be vulnerable. I was never allowed to. For centuries I equated being vulnerable to being weak… even pathetic.”

You were unsure of how to respond, but you felt each word tug at your heartstrings in a way that you had only felt when he had confessed his feelings for you back in Moonrise Towers.

“I’m still getting used to this…” He paused abruptly as if pondering his next words. “Allowing myself to feel all these emotions, I suppose.”

“You are more deserving than you think,” you said truthfully. “Give yourself some credit. You used to be bound to your selfishness when we first met. You didn’t care for others because no one ever cared for you.”

His face held an expression akin to hurt, but it was the good kind of pain. Breaking one’s protective shell didn’t come without discomfort, but it was worth it in the long run.

Unconsciously, you shifted along the edge of the bed as the overwhelming urge to embrace him took over you at once.

Still, you didn’t want to push it, so you halted once you were sitting right next to him, which earned an amused smile from him.

“I have something for you.”

“Oh?”

He reached his hand to grab the piece of cloth on the nightstand. The very same he had just been embroidering moments ago.

“Come here.”

Your heart skipped a beat as he tapped his thigh twice.

Noticing your hesitancy, he repeated the motion until you gathered yourself, feeling a rush of heat pool at your cheeks.

“You do have a thing for keeping me waiting, darling.” he remarked playfully.

A chuckle made its way past your lips as you moved to settle on his lap, careful not to sit too close to his-

“Here you go,” he said, proffering what resembled a kerchief of some sort.

You took it in your hands, admiring its silky texture and mesmerising fusion of different shades of blue that swirled beautifully together until your eyes spotted the yellow-threaded embroidery sprawled along one corner.

Your name.

The needlework was impeccable as always.

Your eyes widened in sheer bewilderment as you remembered the last time he had offered you such a gift.“I – this is beautiful,” you managed to say. “The other one was a masterpiece as well.”

He chuckled tenderly. “The timing of my offering was rather inopportune on that day – I should have waited until we were back in camp.”

His words were sweet and caressed you like a lover, and you could feel yourself drawn more and more to him.

“May I?”

You nodded as he took the kerchief from your hands only to have it drape around your neck, his fingers tugging gently at both ends as his eyes met yours.

Oh.

Fuck.

You only had time to hastily hold on to the headboard with both hands for support as he pulled you in closer. “May I kiss you?”

It was an uncomfortable position to be in since you were trying to avoid his crotch at all costs.

“Where?”

His gaze dropped to your lips.

“Friends don’t do that.” you teased, but still inching closer to him.

“Darling ,” he began with a click of his tongue, rolling the edges of the fabric around each finger. “We haven’t been friends for quite a while now.”

And then he kissed you.

It was a hungry and urgent kiss and his tongue quickly slipped past your lips, causing you to instantly melt into him.

The softest moan escaped your throat as you felt a single fang nip teasingly at your lower lip.

Driven by pure instinct, you shifted along his thighs until you were pressed against his crotch.

He broke the kiss to let out a strained groan and you immediately lifted your hips, alarmed that you had gone too far.

But his hands immediately dropped to your waist, holding you in place. “Don’t.”

You met his lustful gaze. “I’m sorry…”

“Don’t. Please .”

He didn’t push you back against him, but you felt his fingers tease the waistband of your trousers.

“Astarion…” you said, unsure if this was a good idea.

He tugged again, but more gently this tme. “We don't have to do anything you don't feel comfortable with.”

Oh, you were more than eager to carry on. In fact, you were desperate .

You bit your lip, torn between listening to reason or giving in to the moment.

The latter won by a landslide.

You nodded and he masterfully undid the buttons and laces with one hand.

“Do you trust me?”

What an odd question from him. “You know I do.”

His thumb traced your jawline before grazing your lower lip and earning a sigh from you. “Can I trust you not to scream?”

“Scream? Why would I-”

Realisation hit you like a tidal wave and your eyes widened as words died in your mouth.

Oh.

Astarion smiled cheekily, patting your thigh, clearly urging you to slide off of his lap. “Lock the door.”

You were still taken aback and didn't move an inch, staring into his crimson eyes instead as your heart drummed rapidly in your chest.

“Lock the door .”

It resembled a plea, which caused you to clench involuntarily from how desperate he sounded.

Swiftly slipping off his lap, you hurried across his room to turn the key below the doorknob until a click was heard.

By the time you turned around, Astarion had removed his shirt and you were rooted in place, utterly speechless.

He was a work of art.

No words of praise would ever do him justice.

Your mouth had dropped slightly open and he chuckled deviously. “You’re free to stay there and gawk, but I’d rather have you on top of me.”

His teasing snapped you out of your trance-like state and you felt a stronger wave of heat flare across your face and rush down your body.

Your legs felt weak all of a sudden, but you found your way back to him as you always did.

In the end, all roads did lead back to him.

As if driven by an outside force, you quickly slipped out of your trousers, only leaving on your underwear which was already gathering a growing wet spot.

His stare was fixed on your lower half and you spotted the familiar outline of his cock strained in his own trousers.

He eased you back on his lap with a firm grip on your waist and a boyish grin on his lips. Your hands settled on his bare shoulders, still mindful to not lower your hips too much.

“So, my dearest friend… ” he said, adjusting the kerchief around your neck. “How often do you indulge in such activities with your other friends?”

You smirked playfully. “Not often enough.”

He mirrored your expression, fingers slowly undoing each button of your shirt. “Oh? I wonder who crosses your mind, then.”

You.

But he already knew that as his hands travelled down your chest, each breath allowing your shirt to part wide enough to expose your heaving breasts.

“Is it Wyll?”

“You and your obsession with Wyll,” you laughed as he slowly pulled the fabric to the side, exposing each breast at a time. “I’m starting to think you want him for yourself.”

His eyes left yours to gaze at a perky nipple. “The question is: would you be willing to share?”

You whimpered softly as his thumb traced the underside of one breast and you felt too tempted to press down against his erection just so you could comfort the throb in between your legs.

“Of course… I’m all for sharing friends.”

Once he began grazing your nipple, you had to grip his shoulders tighter to anchor yourself.

Your body undulated instinctively, earning a hum of approval from him.

“Would you let Wyll do this, then? As a friend, obviously.”

You were about to arch a brow at his question when you felt one finger pulling your underwear to the side, exposing yourself to him.

It was almost comical how soaked you already were.

You reckoned it was enough to take more than just his fingers.

“Would you let him, darling?”

“I–”

But your voice died in your throat as he ran a single cool finger along your folds, carefully avoiding the swell in between them much to your agony.

The shift in temperature was always something that took some time getting used to and you occasionally flinched as your body adjusted to his touch.

“Can I do this, then?” he asked in a low growl as he teased your entrance. “As a friend.”

You rolled your hips out of reflex and he sank into you with ease until he was knuckle-deep.

“Gods…” you moaned in sheer relief, instinctively clenching around him.

He then pressed his thumb between your folds, causing your hips to jerk as he teased the pulsing swell. It wasn’t long until you began to slowly ride him, your eyes nearly fluttering shut.

“You can take more, can’t you?” he cooed, moving his hand to tease your other nipple. “I remember how eager you used to be for my cock.”

At this rate, he would make you come from his teasing words alone and with a single finger buried inside you.

“Astarion… don’t…” you moaned as you rolled your hips, urging him on.

He needed to shut up…

You needed him to stop talking before-

He suddenly slipped a second finger and you lost your balance, pressing your breasts against his bare chest while seeking support from his shoulder as you buried your face in his neck.

“You have no idea how I longed to be inside you again,” he sighed, his fingers gripping your waist and guiding your sloppy rolls, eventually setting the pace. “My hands can never feel as divine as you do.”

Gods…

You shuddered violently as your moans quickly turned into sobs and whimpers, the wet lewd sounds filling your ears.

He pressed the heel of his palm against you, the delicious friction causing you to rake your hand down from his shoulder and along his chest until he caught your wrist, pressing your heated palm against his hardened nipple.

Astarion immediately groaned and you felt him arch into you.

“Darling…” he moaned, pumping his fingers faster inside you. “Please look down.”

You were so out of it, that his words didn’t register at first, so you kept on riding him in between sobs, further teasing his nipple under your touch.

“Look down,” he repeated more firmly, nearly slipping out of you. “I want you to see the mess you’ve made.”

“ No-no-no … please…” you nearly cried in exasperation, moving your hips desperately against him.

“Then look down.”

You growled in pure frustration, somehow managing to pull back enough to have your eyes land on the hand in between your legs.

It was soaked down to his wrist, and you could see some of it beginning to drip, staining his strained bulge.

You felt an overwhelming wave of embarrassment wash down over you and tried to bury your face in his neck again, but he gripped your chin with his fingers, halting you.

“Do not hide from me,” he said, slipping his fingers back inside as he stared into your half-hooded eyes. “This is one of the highest praises you can offer me.” And he proved his point by planting the softest kiss on your lips.

You immediately melted into his praise, realising just how lovely he could be…

The pent-up sexual frustration was at an all time high and you could feel the familiar coil in your lower abdomen reach the point of no return.

You wished you were strong enough to fight him back with snarky and witty replies, but your concentration was broken.

“What about a third one?”

You didn’t care anymore.

You just wanted release.

It had been too long since he had made you come and you'd take anything he gave you at this point.

“Just…” you began, chasing after that high relentlessly. “ Just… ”

He had the nerve to chuckle at your frustration and you felt a third finger prodding at your entrance.

You could take it.

You would take it.

The fullness would most surely remind you of his cock and you needed it.

You were wet enough to accommodate him as he pushed through, earning a gasp from you followed by a shudder and a strained groan.

“I don’t mean to brag, but I highly doubt dear Wyll would get this reaction from you.”

“Gods… stop talking about Wyll as you’re inside me,” you managed to string coherents words together in between your moans. “Just… please…”

He pressed a kiss to your flushed cheek. “You always take me so well.”

How you wished it was his cock instead, stretching you even more and filling you deeper.

You were nearly there.

“Don’t scream, darling.” he teased as you rode him desperately. “We wouldn't want dear Shadowheart to overhear your wanton cries.”

Well, Shadowheart was already privy to the nature of your relationship with Astarion thanks to him and how he clearly didn't shy away from taking care of himself with others around.

Your mind was about to blank and you slid the kerchief from your neck, feeling the need to bite down on something as you reached your peak.

A few more hip rolls did the trick and one last stroke of his thumb along your folds managed to push you right over the edge.

Your contractions were so violent and strong at first you thought you might die from how hard you were clenching around him, your legs wobbling dangerously as you were drained of lifeforce with each blinding wave of bliss.

The piece of cloth in your mouth didn’t do much to muffle you as your climax tore throughout your body, but it was better than having nothing.

Astarion only slid out once you had slumped into his chest, barely able to keep your breathing steady.

Your knees gave out and you sank down against his crotch, earning a guttural growl from deep within him.

Shit.

You instantly slid off of him, worrying you had accidentally gone too far. “Astarion… I’m…”

He shook his head, the hand that was soaked in your wetness clawing at the front of his trousers as his eyes were pressed shut.

Oh.

“I’ll take care of this…” he let out a pained hiss.

Oh.

“I can just leave,” you mumbled. “I’m…”

His trousers were now undone and you could see his clothes cock faintly throbbing.

And he shook his head once again. “You can stay – you can watch… if you want to.” His words were coated in urgent lust.

Your eyes widened at his proposition and you thought you might implode right there and then.

You had barely come down from your climax and the throbbing that had begun to subside was already about to match your quickened heartbeat.

“Or you can leave…” he said in a low and strained voice.

Oh, he was truly holding back…

“I… can stay.” you offered at once, sitting next to him and trying to ignore the lust that was building inside you once again.

This wasn't about you.

He quickly nodded and with a swift tug he freed his cock and you had to bite down hard on your lip at the mesmerising sight in front of you.

A single strand of precum dangled from the tip, already pooling on his lower abdomen.

“Gods above…” he let out a sigh of relief, hips lifting from the mattress as he wrapped the hand drenched in your wetness around him.

This was too hot to witness and you curled your hands into fists on your lap, wishing nothing more than to touch him again.

But you knew he needed this.

He needed to feel at ease with his body first.

His eyes met yours briefly before dropping to your chest and to your breasts as they heaved from your laboured breathing.

You removed your shirt, not wanting to obstruct his view and Astarion growled .

The pace was slow at first as he squeezed his cock, but he quickly picked up, mixing your wetness with his with each stroke.

He looked positively ethereal as his handsome face twisted in pleasure, lips parted and razor-sharp fangs peeking through.

Should you say something? Should you praise him? Encourage him? Or would it be too much?

From what you remembered, he seemed to revel in your teasing words in moments of shared bliss, but how much of that was an act back then? Was he ever able to fully enjoy being with you?

In doubt, you chose to remain silent as you watched him bring himself closer to his own climax.

It didn't take him long to start mumbling your name in between heated pants and there was no way back now.

You were throbbing hard again, wetness spilling from you with each involuntarily clench.

Your body was so ready for him… it was almost painful.

A thicker string of precum bridged his tip to his abdomen, and you nearly moaned, remembering its sweet taste.

He rolled his hips languidly, eyes never leaving you as he gripped the bedsheets under him with such force you reckoned me might tear right through the fabric.

That sparked newfound curiosity inside you.

Slowly, you leaned forward, shifting closer just to have your hand next to his without quite touching him, but close enough for him to feel your warmth.

I'm here… I'm with you, you wanted to whisper, but only heard the words echo in your head.

He groaned in response and, much to your surprise, he released the sheets and his fingers found you, intertwining them in yours as he held on to you.

Your heart might have skipped several beats, you were no longer sure at this rate.

You had seen him reach his peak a handful of times before, but there was something different about the way he toppled over the edge this time.

He threw his head back against the headboard, straining his neck as his mouth dropped open, your name being the only intelligible word you could make out in the midst of hisses and groans.

Your heart was hammering so fast in your chest that you feared you might not make it as he reached his peak.

His hips still momentarily and he covered his swollen tip with his hand and the first spurts of cum began to slip through his fingers before dribbling down to gather at the base and across his lower abdomen.

You held his hand formçy through his climax. Perhaps the first genuine one you had ever witnessed, which invoked an odd feeling of… delight?

For the second time in just a mere couple of days, the two of you held hands albeit seeking varying degrees of comfort and relief.

Beads of sweat rolled down his temple and covered his bare torso as he descended from his high and that was when his eyes met yours.

Your stomach turned and you felt the throb between your legs begin to ease with each passing second.

“Will you kiss me?”

His request took you by surprise, but you promptly shifted next to him until your face was close enough that your lips grazed his.

Only then did he let go of your hand and merely because he meant to hold your chin as he kissed you softly.

It carried neither urgency nor lust.

Just a pure display of silent intimacy that strummed at your heartstrings more effectively than any other praise he could ever offer you.

You melted into his sweet touch and allowed your kiss to express the unspoken words you had yet to tell him.

I love you…

Whichever form of love it was, all you knew was that it felt right and love overdue.

You could feel him occasionally smile against your lips and there was not a single drop of doubt in you.

I love you.

After what felt like an eternity, you pulled away, already mourning his touch.

“Shadowheart knows.”

He arched an eyebrow. “Oh?”

You had to hold back a chuckle. “She heard you – well, when you were… handling things after feeding on me.”

The most mischievous of smiles settled on his lips.

“I thought you said you were quiet…”

“I was, darling,” he said before pecking your cheek. “For the most part, that is.”

You giggled and then stared at him in awe as his beauty increased tenfold from where you sat.

He was impossibly handsome.

“You’re so…”

“Charming?”

You rolled your eyes as he pressed his cool lips to your other cheek.

“Beautiful?”

Another kiss.

“You’re so… you.” you blurted out almost feeling embarrassed from how basic your praise was.

But it drew the biggest smile from him, and you mirrored it instantly.

“Well…”

You watched as his eyes dropped to his lower half and yours widened slightly at the obscene amount of cum was now dribbling down his sides in thick beads. His hand was still holding his now softening cock, fingers drenched in his own spend.

“That’s a lot…” you said.

He nodded, looking almost as perplexed as you were. “I don’t think I’ve ever…” and his voice trailed down.

And you knew exactly what he meant.

With a warm smile, you extended your hand, offering him the kerchief he had gifted you moments before.

He visibly winced. “No, darling. It would be nigh criminal to use such delicate fabric on this .”

Your smile widened. “Can I fetch you a towel then?”

“Please,” he said with an exasperated sigh. “It’s rather messy here.”

You pressed a fleeting kiss to his lips before sliding off the bed and hurriedly slipping into your shirt and trousers and crossing the room.

The key turned in one swift move and you quickly left the room.

You were only able to take a few steps before a silhouette startled you.

Shadowheart.

She was leaning against the railing by the top of the staircase with folded arms and a quirked brow.

“Gods! You scared me,” you said, clutching at your chest.

“Glad some of us are able to enjoy ourselves in such times.”

You swallowed hard. “Uh… we were just talking.”

She snickered humorously. “I suppose it’s a form of communication.”

An overwhelming heatwave spread across your face. Had you been that loud? Or had he?

Then her expression turned serious. “Pull yourself together. We have visitors.”

TBC

#astarion #astarion bg3 #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion x female tav #astarion x you #astarion x female reader #astarion x f!tav #astarion x oc #astarion x f!reader #the arrangement #astarion smut

2K notes · View notes

lunargrapejuice · 4 months

Text

diluc ragnvindr x fem!reader

picking you up and putting you somewhere safe

“oh, no thank you.”

you had noticed the man's eyes on you from the moment you walked into the bar and it made you think you should have worn something other than a knee length dress that clung to your body. while you had wished for one particular man to see you in it, the very one you were waiting for, this drunkard was not him.

when he moved closer, not seeming to notice or care about the distance you continued to put between you until you were at the edge of the bar and he asked to buy you a drink while he eyed you up and down, you felt exposed, uncomfortable, but thankful you had chosen the side of the bar that would not have cornered you.

you wondered if charles was in the back room and would mind if you waited there for diluc. surely he would understand once he saw this man and how unwilling he was to leave you alone, he’d probably ask him to leave entirely, but when you eagerly searched around for his familiar face in the busy tavern you could’t find him at all.

“aw, c’mon pretty. ‘s just a drink,” his words were slurred, the smell of alcohol on his breath making you nauseous when he leans in close to you, clumsy and uncaring of your personal space. “i don’ bite.”

“i said no,” you’re firmer, colder, this time when pull back, trying to create space between you and slow your heart rate that had become frantic, the polite smile you offered on your first decline nowhere to be seen. “please leave me alone.”

and please hurry diluc. you didn’t want to chance waiting in here a moment longer, not when your throat felt tight and you weren’t certain if this man would leave you alone but when you turned to try to make your escape through the back door, you can still feel the closeness of him, you knew you had been right.

“hey now,” you don’t dare look at him but before you can take more than a step away, you feel a sweaty, too hard grasp of hand clasping onto your arm and it forces you to turn around,” n’ need to be *hick* like that sweets-”

“don’t touch me!” you smack his hand off of you, the sting of it lingering on the back of your hand, an unease strain to your voice. you were beyond anxious to get out of here and go running for diluc, though your outfit and thin sandals would not make for good running attire.

taking quick steps backwards, trying to get away before he could get ahold of you again, before you were going to cry angry tears and make a scene in your boyfriends tavern, your body crashes against something, someone, you hadn't expected to be there. before you can look back to see who it is or even register what’s happening fully, the tavern falls into silence at the breaking of glasses and bottles crashing at your feet and the splash of wine and beer that’s now pooling at your feet and splattered on your legs.

it would have been all of you soaking in alcohol and cut by glass, joined on the floor with poor charles who was mostly unharmed but undoubtedly wet, had it not been for the strong and familiar arm that wraps around your middle and keeps you upright. it all happened in the blink of an eye, had not given you any time to do more than hang on to the black coat you found yourself pressed into and when you open your eyes again, the loveliest shade of red and the deepest black is all you see.

you clung to the fabric your hands had held countless times, feeling dilucs arm wrap protectively around you tighter as you look up at him. his body was angled to keep you pressed into his side, as if he was hiding you, with him standing between you and the man who wouldn’t leave you alone. you could see the tense set of dilucs jaw and the lick of flames behind his ruby eyes, feel the way his chest rose and fell with heavy breaths that only seemed to fuel the fire.

you have no idea how he was at your side so quickly. you hadn’t seen or heard him walk in, didn’t know how he could have gotten to as fast as he had with the tavern as busy as it is but here he was, holding you, protecting you.

“diluc-”

“hey! let- let go of me!” the drunk man protests and drowned out your voice. it was then you noticed his outstretched arm and the white knuckle grip diluc had on it. his hands were covered by his gloves but with the way the leather of them and the fabric of the mans long sleeve shirt bunched, the flex of his arm under his jacket, anyone could tell it was not a light grip.

“get out of my tavern,” dilucs voice was deep, commanding, and the only thing to be heard in angels share. the gazes watching you all were visibly taken aback by the young master's cool slipping but you couldn’t deny what it was doing to you either; making your knees weak and heat blossom in your core. “and do not come back.”

diluc let go of his arm, giving him the chance to go without more of a fuss, but the man hadn't backed down. the air was filled with tension that was keeping anyone from even breathing when the drunkard could not stop his running mouth, though he was smart enough to not move any closer.

“‘c’mon! i didn’t mean anythin’” he throws up his hands. “was just trying to show a lonely girl a good time and she-”

“i would advise you to be careful with how you speak about my girlfriend,” there was no doubt diluc was angry, and very quickly losing more of his patience but the way he held you, soft and unwavering, calling you his girlfriend.. it wasn’t that you needed anyone else to hear it but you hearing your title to him said out loud would never fail to make you nearly burst into a dozens of pyro crystals flies.

you bury yourself into dilucs side, trying to hide your flushed state. it had been such a quick change from how anxious you felt before, nearly giving you a whiplash, but diluc had always calmed your worries and made you feel safe. you couldn’t help it even if you tried and he had certainly not made it any easier.

“leave. i will not repeat myself again.”

with a scoff and a hiccup you heard the drunk man stumble away, the moments following remaining quiet until his footsteps disappeared and the door closed behind him. it wasn’t until then that you felt dilucs body relax but it was charles’ voice that broke the silence in the tavern, the chatter of patrons slowly following after.

“everything’s alright folks, we’ll get everything cleaned up and taken care of.”

the firm body you had been tucked into left you too quickly for your liking but diluc did not go far or let his hand be removed from you. glass cracked under his steps in his movements to face you and look you over, frowning further upon seeing the small cuts along the tops of your feet, the countless pieces of glass surrounding your delicate shoes and the red wine stains on your legs going up your shins.

you tried to speak, not caring about the your small injury when you didn’t even know if charles was okay. “charles i’m so-”

before you could finish your words or grasp that you are no longer on your feet, you’re being lifted into the air, diluc ensuring to collect the end of your dress under your knees when he cradles you in his arms and against his chest. the only thing on his mind was your safety and he didn’t care who watched as he held you like this or the way you nuzzle yourself into him and whisper against his collar.

“i’m okay,” you assure him, not fighting to get out of his hold and letting him carry you towards the back room without another word.

with his heel he kicks the door closed behind him, muffling the usual atmosphere of the tavern that had now returned full force. you can hear the beating of his heart in your ear pressed against him and under its strong melody you truly could have forgotten about the whole thing that led to this.

gently, diluc sets you down on the desk he normally works from, his hands only leaving you to take off his gloves. even when he reaches for the first aid kit in one of the desk drawers his other hand is holding onto yours, letting the thumb you rub along his knuckles ease the flames that were building within him and making him see red.

he had hurried past the crowd when you saw you in distress and all he could think about was protecting you, not letting drunk patrons touch what was not theirs. it hadn’t helped his heart seeing what waited at your feet if you tried to move and he hadn’t thought about anything other than getting you somewhere safe when he scooped you into his arms so easily. even now, even after you told him you were okay, it was as though he had tunnel vision and could only see the cuts and sticky drinks on your skin.

but there’s a pause in his movements, a reluctance to let you go when everything he needs is not within arms reach and in an attempt to calm his worries, you squeeze his hand in yours, relishing in the callouses and scars that you feel amongst the softness of his skin. you didn’t get to feel them nearly enough like this.

it stops him completly.

“i’m sorry,” he says, not meeting your eyes.

“‘luc,” the way you call him never failed to bring those ruby eyes you love back to you and now was no exception. you bring your free hand to his face, the fingers brushing along his cheek, making his heart skip far too many beats, your touch the balm to his unease. “you have no reason to be sorry.”

“i should have been here sooner. i shou-”

“hey,” you stop him before he can blame himself any further, before he gets lost in what should have happened to avoid it all. “i was a little earlier than we agreed but even if i wasn’t, you can’t always be right next to me-”

but oh how he would love to be within the radius of your light with every breath he took.

“- no matter how much i want you to be,” you add, quiet and with tender love in your eyes, the swirling emotions in his own as he leans into your touch making your cheeks warm. “but you’re here now and really, i am okay.”

he takes a step closer to you, his scent and heat enveloping you, the slight chapness of his lips against your forehead bringing to life the butterflies in your stomach, bringing both of your hands to reach for his chest.

it would still take him cleaning your legs and cuts himself, taking care of every single scrape for him to truly convince himself but your words sooth him nonetheless, as they always have. “i’m grateful for that,” he whispers against your skin, making a silent vow that you would never have to experience anything like that, especially in his own places, again.

genshin impact masterlist | main masterlist

#diluc #diluc ragnvindr x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #diluc ragnvindr #diluc ragnvindr angst #diluc x reader

2K notes · View notes

autistichalsin · 25 days

Text

Some of my favorite, understated moments with heartbreaking implications for Halsin

1. Halsin threatening to turn into a mouse in the epilogue if the player brags about his achievements- he's so shy and humble that just being acknowledged for LITERALLY BUILDING A COMMUNE HIMSELF makes him want to hide. A mouse is a very symbolic choice here: not only easy to hide, but also easily overlooked and forgotten. The idea of his accomplishments being acknowledged is so terrifying for him that he wants to turn into an animal no one will notice, instead of his usual strong, large, noticeable bear.

2. "Sometimes, I think people look at me and imagine my feelings can't be hurt." This isn't the kind of thing that happens after one or two people act like jerks. This is years and years of cruel treatment, of his emotions being demeaned and mocked because of his size. Of people judging him before even meeting him- and forming an entirely wrong view of him. Halsin is a bighearted, tender, sentimental man, yet because he's big... Well, big people don't have feelings, surely. /s

3. "You and I may struggle to go unnoticed in such environs, Karlach[...] Folk of our stature can be a lure for drunkards seeking a brawl, I have found," combined with, "There is a particular discomfort to besting one you know to be weaker than yourself - even when needs must," from a different scene. People have sought him out and fought him because of his size (which had to have been terrifying, especially the first time), and he feels guilty when he takes out someone he knows is weaker, even if they STARTED it. How many times has the poor guy been traveling and then had to defend himself against someone 1/2 his size, making HIM look like the asshole to onlookers, and reinforcing that whole "people think I can't be hurt" thing?

4. "It was always destined to be so, if we prevailed. But the foreknowledge makes it no less bittersweet..." (About the players' paths diverging post brain battle), combined with "I see... After all my years of living, I know all too well that nothing lasts forever. Yet a parting can sting, nonetheless," if the player breaks up with him in the ending. This poor guy was having the time of his life adventuring with the group (and possibly falling in love there) yet never believed it would truly last (because of his abandonment issues). And then to have it confirmed.... he must have felt so awful in that moment, even if he was being dignified about it.

5. "You came for me... thank you. I feared Orin's accursed smile would be the very last sight I beheld," when Halsin is freed from Orin, combined with, "Orin's blades. I hoped my friends would save me..." If he is killed by Orin instead and Speak With the Dead is used on his corpse. The tone of his voice in the first line, especially added to that bit in the second... he never thought the player was coming to save him. He HOPED they would. Not "believed". Hoped. He thought he was going to die there- just like how he was in the Underdark for THREE YEARS and no one came to save him. And if it's confirmed... Yeah. That. (Sidenote: if you ask his corpse if he has any regrets, he says not telling Thaniel and Oliver goodbye, and not getting to see their land flourish. :( My heart. :( )

6. "I... have not had true confidantes for some time. The Shadow Curse robbed me of almost all my peers, and replaced them with the weight of responsibility. Perhaps that caused me to gild undeserving memories of my youth." Halsin was so miserable and stressed being Archdruid that he romanticized his past as a sex slave, viewing it as a safer, even happier alternative. There were actually times when Halsin thought he might rather be a sex slave than continue to be Archdruid. In a sense, for the 100 years the Shadow Curse was around, Halsin was just as much a prisoner as Thaniel was in the Shadowfell, but Halsin's prison had invisible bars. The Shadow Curse took away his entire support system, and being Archdruid forced him to be the strong one, always, never allowed to be weak or scared, forced him to take control of situations when he hated it, forced him to spend his time sorting out people instead of being in nature. And he was MISERABLE. For 100 years.

7. "You understand me almost perfectly. Only my late mother may have bested you." (Said if you get one question wrong at the love dryad test). He misses his mama. :( Especially when you consider that if you steal Balthazar's "Mother Dearest" and taunt him about it, Halsin disapproves (and is the only one to do so), while returning her gets you approval (which only Halsin approves of). And then the line when you look into a mirror while controlling him, "more like my father, with each passing day..." He really misses them. :(

8. "I am loathe to see anyone behind bars. It reminds me of my time as a guest of the goblins." He is, secretly, still quite traumatized from his time in the goblin pens, but he brushes it off. Just like every OTHER time he is hurt.

9. "I am aware [of having a habit of getting captured]. Perhaps I put too much faith in my skills of negotiation, or want to see good where there is none. It would be easy to resort to nature's fury whenever something stood in my way, yet I cannot help but feel I would be sullying the Oak Father's gifts. Naive perhaps... but I still draw breath." Halsin is aware he gets hurt often because of his desire to see good in people until he has no other choice, but refuses to give up anyway (which is backed up by that letter Gut had on her where she reveals Halsin TRIED to help the goblins, saying he could cure them of their tadpoles, only to be thrown in the cage, with Gut threatening to have his stomach cut open and maggots placed inside it.) Further, even though he is an Archdruid, and one of the most devoted, and explicitly has Silvanus's favor (Halsin says that gaining his favor was the only way he was able to open the portal to the Shadowfell), he still constantly worries about using Silvanus's powers, to the point of wondering if an actual threat to his safety actually merits using his powers. Which... combined with some other stuff, reads like one hell of a problem with self-worth.

10. "At least you were not present. Grim as [the ruined battlefield] is now, it was worse on the day of the battle. A vivid wound upon my memory[...] I was lucky - I lived, when so many did not. It would take me a day and a night to recite the names of all the friends I lost" combined with, "I was [present when the Shadow Curse was unleashed]. Part of my spirit was shorn away from me here, and never left," and, if Last Light falls, "All gone... devoured by the shadows. Oak Father preserve us, it's just like a hundred years ago[...] We are [still standing]. Yet there is a burden to being the survivor... the witness to others' tragedies. It only grows heavier with time." He has so much PTSD and survivor guilt from the Shadow Curse. :( No wonder it's all he can think about- to the point that some of the other companions even get annoyed at him for his obsession.

11. "I never quite realised how burdened I was, until I met you. The threat of the shadow curse, the politics of the grove... I was forgetting who I was, but you lifted the fog. Thank you." Not only does this tie in with the above, with his PTSD from the curse and his utter misery at being Archdruid, but this HEAVILY implies Halsin had depression. Like... that "fog" line hits HARD if you have or have had depression, because that's exactly what it feels like. And the "forgetting who I was" bit too. Not just losing his sense of self to the depression, but to the neverending responsibilities of being Archdruid. I keep repeating myself, but damn, this guy has really and truly spent an entire century being absolutely MISERABLE. :(

12. "Forgive me. I... lost the run of myself. Sometimes, if blood runs hot enough, it's difficult to tame the beast." With that little disgusted groan/sigh, the fury and disgust at himself visible on his face, and the way he rushes to get out the rest of it- he thinks he fucked up so badly that you're about to leave him, maybe forever. And then if you reject him after this? "Ah... I see. Well, of course. Back to camp then." He has the most heartbroken look on his face here, and the way he says "of course" like he just... knew this was coming the instant he accidentally wildshaped. He felt that the first time he let ANY of his imperfections show, the player would leave him. :(

13. "Death is nature's final slumber - it awaits us all. Do not punish yourself over those lost, or give in to despair - not while there are still folk in need of your help." (Said to a Dark Urge if they tell him they're not much of a hero and most people needing them end up dead) Not only is Halsin speaking from experience here, but it's very clear he is STILL doing exactly what he tells Durge not to do, to himself- punishing himself over those who were lost, struggling with devastating survivor guilt.

14. "The grove has cut itself off from the world, to jealously guard its own little pocket of nature. No one shall ever enter or leave again. And I have been evicted from the very place I was charged to safeguard. A telling summary of my time as Archdruid, perhaps..." If the Grove is sealed and you ask him about it later, this is what he says. Interesting that he views being evicted from the place he was in charge of protecting to be a "telling summary." He was forced to take the leadership role there, and yet it was clear he wasn't wanted or respected by a great number of the Druids (exempting Nettie, Rath, and Apikusis). He got a truly thankless job that took damn near EVERYTHING from him emotionally/mentally, causing him to develop depression and causing him to backslide in his previous healing from his trauma from his time as a sex slave, he still gave EVERYTHING to the Grove, and in return...... almost none of his Druids appreciated or even liked him. (I could seriously write at least five metas about how obviously miserable Halsin was at the Grove, despite caring for it deeply).

15. "You could have done anything, gone with anyone... yet you chose me." Said at the epilogue to a solo romanced player who went to the commune with him. There's so many layers of heartbreak here. He is still surprised, six months later, that the player chose him. He even thinks the player will regret it, and will decide they want an adventurer's life after all after seeing everyone else. He doesn't think he is good enough- doesn't think he deserves the player, and yet at the same time he loves them so much that he is heartbroken over the possibility they might agree with him. He thinks that given a chance, there is little chance they would actually choose him again. (He is put at ease quickly when the player promises they picked him for a reason, but even the explanation he gives for why he was so worrie is heartbreaking- that he's so used to a tumultuous life that he thinks something must go wrong. He has been so traumatized so many times over the years that he just has almost no ability to think that true happiness is possible [or deserved] for him.) Something about that is just heartbreaking, even though his ending is one of the happiest of any of the companions.

Someone give this sweet bear man a hug, please :(

#halsin #halsin silverbough #bg3 #baldur's gate 3

882 notes · View notes

pseudowho · 6 months

Text

Kento Comes Home Drunk

(help me find the Nanami artist in the banner, for crediting and thanks/permission!)

The reader manages her drunk, horny fiancé, Nanami Kento, like an absolute champ.

Link to the sequel here: Reader Comes Home Drunk

WARNINGS: 18+, soapy handjobs (F to M), mutual masturbation, cumshots, ethics of consent, Kento being a sloppy drunk

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Hope he's having a good time, you mused to yourself, nursing a late cup of tea. The clock ticked well past midnight; you were the overnight on-call for Curse-related shenanigans, so whilst you had wanted to join Satoru, Shoko, Ino, Ijichi and Kento for drinks, you had, instead, waved Kento off, and settled in for a night with your phone on loud, and late-night game shows.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

"Hate to see you leave," you'd sighed at 6pm, bobbing upwards for a kiss. He had traded his work attire for a buttoned black shirt, and simple dark jeans. Effortlessly handsome. You buried your face in his chest, breathing his cologne, and gave him a playful shove on the chest, like trying to push a truck.

He stepped backwards, with a lopsided smile and his hand reached out to pinch your chin affectionately.

"But love to watch me go?" You winked at him. You were wearing his favourite outfit; your oldest pyjamas. He found something so sexy about you being comfy. You preened at him, cradling your first tea of the night.

"You know it." He chuckled, but became serious immediately after.

"Call me if you're called out overnight. I want to be around if anything...happens." You nodded, hand on heart.

"Good luck beating off other women with sticks. Hope you've practiced your comedy rejections."

Kento hummed sagely, "Bold of you to assume I'm a man? My doctor said I shouldn't until the smallpox has cleared up? Undskyld, jeg taler ikke Japansk?"

You laughed, gave him one final kiss, and waved him out of the door.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Firmly lost in late-night TV and stifling a yawn, you noted the time; nearly 2am. As you smilingly hoped Kento was having fun, there was a firm tap at the door. You rose to answer it, and you paused to hear shuffles, bumps, hushed voices and fumbled keys. Rolling your eyes, you opened the door to a waft of whisky fumes dressed as your fiancé.

"Fiancé delivery service! Sorry for the late call ma'am, I tried to throw him over the gate but he was too heavy." Satoru heaved Shoko higher onto his back, and she groaned, face first in his shoulder. Ino and Ijichi swayed behind him, quietly huddled over Ino's phone and arguing over what food to order.

You smirked up at Kento, who was possibly more gorgeous while dishevelled, shirt half untucked, sleeves rolled, and stumbling into the hallway to kick his shoes off. He walked the confident walk of a drunk man back towards the door, possessively looping an arm around your waist and planting a sloppy kiss to your neck. Glaring at Satoru, he gripped the doorframe.

"I didn't need you to get me home, Gojo. I'm not drunk." Kento shuffled his whole face into your neck, gripping your pyjamas hard. You thanked Satoru, and sent him off to deliver the other drunkards home. Kento slammed the door hard, and backed you up against the wall while you laughed, slapping at his chest as he mumbled incoherent greetings against the side of your face.

"Behave yourself, buddy, you're hammered. Let's get you to bed." He groaned cheerfully, taking this as an invitation. His eyes met yours, unusually playful, and with a wink started to slowly unbutton his shirt. You rolled up a nearby newspaper and swatted his hands. Mouth watering at the sight of his abs, you sternly told yourself off.

"It is unethical to have sex with drunk people when you're sober. I don't know what you think you're getting tonight, but you should adjust your expectations." Bodily manhandling him, you turned him around while he grumbled at you, urging him towards the bathroom. He sat against the counter, bum accidentally setting off the tap in the sink, while you set the shower running. He stumbled and cursed behind you, trousers now wet and clinging to his muscled thighs. You heard him stripping while you waited for the water to heat up.

He thinks he's being sneaky, you thought to yourself as Kento pressed himself into your back, erection now full and visible against his underwear, and his hands slipped boldly under your pyjamas. While one hand reached up to cup your breast, the other snuck down to graze against the top of your mound. Involuntary shivers of pleasure ran down your spine, his wet mouth on your neck smelling of hot whisky and smoke.

"I have full capacity," Kento purred against your neck, tongue trailing up to your ear now, "and I'm so delighted my girl is still home, and I'd love nothing more than to make her the final taste on my tongue tonight." He stopped, musingly, his gaze at you still drunk and fluttering.

"Unless you don't want to," he pondered, taking his hands from your body. You pouted up at him, crossed arms and faux-angry, and nodded towards the shower.

"You smell like a bar. Behave yourself." Kento chuckled at you, cracking his neck and sighing, absent-mindedly palming his erection through his underwear. His cock sprang up as he finished undressing, pink-tipped and perfect, and you couldn't resist looking him up and down. He stepped into the shower, hot water cascading down his broad shoulders. Leaning one hand against the glass, he eyed you ruefully again.

"I'll manage myself then, shall I?" Still leaning on the glass, his eyes drifted shut as his other hand trailed down his body to grip his wet cock. "Please don't feel obliged to stay." You tried to appear unaffected, and moved to turn, but paused as you heard the slow wet strokes of him pumping himself under the running water. The drink lowered his guard, and he let out a long, slow moan of relief as he pleasured himself, now totally oblivious to your presence.

You felt heat pool between your legs, your arms covered in goosebumps and your nipples pebbling under the cool pyjama fabric. You considered your options.

Still stroking himself, and gradually increasing the pace, Kento was imagining you riding him on the sofa, like you had done only days before, his hands on your eager hips as you told him how deep you could feel him. He groaned to himself, desperate to feel that intense intimacy and pleasure again, enhanced by the alcohol running through his system.

Thoughts interrupted by a tap on the shower glass, he opened his eyes to you, leaning against the bathtub, one hand moving slow circles over your clit and another rolling your nipple between your fingers. Lower lip between your teeth, you blushed as you watched Kento pleasure himself.

Kento moaned unashamedly, swiping his thumb over his tip, cock twitching furiously in his hand.

"I'll return the favour, I promise," he begged you, eyes fully focused on where your hand moved steadily beneath your pyjamas, feeling his pulse quicken as you flushed and moaned, legs weakening against the tub, "I know what you're like when you come home drunk, you're a nightmare, saying no to you is a chore."

Lip still between your teeth you smiled at him, and, now feeling especially naughty, you moved to straddle the lip of the bathtub. Kento's jaw dropped as you began to ride it, sighing his name as if he wasn't there, now slipping your pyjama top down to release your aching breasts.

"Shit...please get in here before I lose my mind," and he stopped stroking himself, hand gripping the base of his cock as pre-cum trickled out, merging with the running water. His head was still spinning with the alcohol, but his senses were sharpened by your performance, so he watched you hungrily, determined that he'd cum inside you if he had any say in the matter.

You continued to hump the side of the bath, shuddering, eyes glinting with mischief.

"How can I trust that you know what you're asking?" You replied breathlessly, "It is unethical. I'd be taking advantage. I'd hate for you to regret me in the morning."

Kento grinned at you. "But watching me is fine? It seems worse somehow. Regret you," he scoffed. Humour aside, Kento shifted uncomfortably, grunting as his cock continued to throb in his hand. "Get in here," he wheedled, "and stop fucking the bathtub in front of me, and use me instead."

You acquiesced, resolve cracking. Stripping quickly, you slipped into the shower, pressing against him and immediately gripping his pulsing shaft. He stuttered and whined, hands pressed back against the glass, panting as you squeezed him.

"Alright, you win," you breathed against him, licking the flat of your tongue across his nipple, tasting the sweat and nightclub on his skin, "but I will absolutely remember this when I'm the one who's drunk and begging."

You spun Kento around again, and reached around his hips to grasp his cock just as he would as he pleasured himself. He continued to pant, whining and begging you for relief. You rubbed his tip with the flat of your palm, teasing, before starting to stroke from the head to the base of his cock in well-practiced motions.

Kento moaned and murmured sweet praise. His hands pressed against the glass, fingers flexing and unfolding as you fondled his bum lovingly, nipping his shoulder blades and sweeping your wet hand up and down his cock, gently twisting and squeezing at the head until he was gasping. You kept a steady pace, Kento occasionally thrusting forwards into your hand, calling you his good girl, his sweetest thing, being so good to him.

Head swimming with the alcohol, Kento gladly accepted the handjob, overwhelmed by the pleasure and steam of the shower. As he was about to turn to insist on bending you over against the shower wall, your second hand crept round to his throat and squeezed just hard enough for his moan to catch in his chest. Balls tightening and abdomen twitching, Kento gasped as you whispered into his ear; "be a good boy and cum in my hand".

Kento broke, wave after wave of pleasure rushing through him, strengthened by the drink, as thick spurts of cum shot into your hand and against the shower glass. He moaned your name, hips thrusting sloppily, one hand reaching round to squeeze your waist. Your pace slowed, squeezing gently as you pumped every last drop out of him.

Kento slumped against the glass, a dopey satisfied smile on his face, and hummed happily as he felt a soapy sponge start to clean his back. By the time you had gently scraped your nails through his hair, rinsing him of the last suds, he was barely awake in the steamy bathroom.

"Come on, big guy. Let's get you to bed." Kento frowned at you, looking faintly guilty.

"But I haven't done anything for you." You stroked his cheeks, full of affection.

"Trust me, that did plenty for me. I'll be storing that in my head for a long time."

Kento blushed, but allowed you to lead him to bed and dry his hair. He was face down in bed and asleep within seconds, his body relaxed, his tense muscles loose and softened.

You hesitated before checking the time; if you hadn't been called out by now, you probably wouldn't be, you convinced yourself. Pulling on one of Kento's shirts, you sat your phone by the bed and slipped under the sheets, tucking close to his warmth with one knee lifted over the small of his back.

"Still think I took advantage of you," you mumbled to Kento, before falling asleep to his warmth and deep, soft breaths, safe and happy in the dark.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

This best boy deserves a soapy handjob

And the sequel, Reader Comes Home Drunk, link here.

1K notes · View notes

xinxiaogato · 4 months

Text

— love at first thrust

summary. as an ambassador from mondstadt, your goal was to persuade the duke of fontaine’s underwater fortress (who reportedly had a herculean physique and an absolute bakery) to agree with your plan on improving international relations. the last thing you anticipated was for him to agree to you getting his rocks off.

love interest. fem!reader x wriothesley.

warnings. unedited, 18+ content (mdni), nsfw, cursing, masturbation, voyuerism, size difference kink, cunnilingus, fingering, name calling (slut), slight orgasm denial, skin biting, almost a handjob, angst (somehow) and comfort, mentions of murder, mentions of pregnancy, porn w plot, virginity loss, unprotected sex, p in v, fondling, rough sex, impregnation, bdsm (handcuffs), soft dom!wrio.

word count. 5,303.

note. my first time dabbling in smut… to whoever is reading this that somehow knows me irl, pls turn straight around ! you are referred to as “reader” by the way.

romance schmomance. how did anyone expect wriothesley to allocate time in his schedule for a lover while properly running the fortress of meropide? his grace was perfectly content with teasing his two tsundere subordinates, who refused to face their feelings for each other. besides, love appeared too complicated of a matter, as evidenced by the prisoners he overheard lamenting on a day-to-day basis about their marital affairs and unsuccessful endeavors in flirting.

but sigewinne thought otherwise, pestering him recommending that he seek a partner because not only would it fulfill his social needs but also satisfy his sexual urges (he scrunched up his nose every time she made that point). frankly, all the duke needed was his right hand, some lotion, and a thirty-minute break of privacy.

…so what was a pair of eyes doing from the staircase to his office, staring incredulously at him fucking his cock into his curled fist during the thirty-minute break of privacy?

keyword: privacy, meaning no one was supposed to be in his office during this time!

a few minutes earlier…

“ah, ms. reader, right this way!”

an eager guard ushered you to an imposing set of metal doors to which your house back in mondstadt paled in comparison. as the guard, who appeared to be a rookie, fumbled with the keys to the administrator’s office, you turned your attention to the rest of the surroundings that seamlessly blended together due to the lack of decor. rusting pipes ran from the bottom up in austere grandeur, and warm lights were scattered across the stronghold, illuminating the faces of the few dozen or so prisoners wandering around the open space.

although the conditions weren’t all sunshine and rainbows (literally, since the fortress is hundreds of feet under the surface), serving time in the fortress of meropide was bearable enough to the point that some convicts continued living there even after their sentences were up. this was the piece of information that piqued your interest during extensive research into the nation of justice, as access to rehabilitative programs while incarcerated had reduced the crime rate there.

thus, there you stood, prepared to present the ultimate strategy for promoting bilateral relations to the administrator of fontaine’s correctional institution. in exchange for advice from monsieur wriothesley on how to reform mondstadt’s prison system, the two neighboring countries could collaborate on an event similar to that of the “neighboring nations congenial poetry gala” between mondstadt and liyue.

it made sense since both fontaine and mondstadt were renowned for their romanticism, and the only other thing you could offer from your hometown besides poetry and artistry was… wine, which you knew wouldn’t fly. no government wanted more drunkards bumbling down their streets than they already had.

finally, the guard pushed the doors open (not without almost popping a vein) and gestured for you to enter monsieur wriothesley’s office, and once you did, you averted your gaze to the spiraling set of stairs.

however, prior to making your presence known, strange… grunting noises from the upper floor sent a shiver down your spine and planted you firmly to the ground. rapidly, your mind swirled with a million possibilities of what the source could be. although the duke was allegedly benign, he was still a warden through and through. was he personally punishing someone for their misconduct?

it frankly sounded quite painful, and you were getting worried that you came in at a bad time. after all, you did arrive an hour earlier than scheduled.

…one peek couldn’t hurt, right?

then you’ll be able to determine whether or not he needed a minute.

curiosity killed the cat, and that cat was you. because after gingerly ascending the staircase and stopping to be able to peek just above the metal floor, you chanced upon a scene that not even your wildest dreams could conjure.

the black-haired duke’s coat was popped open, with the hem of his dress shirt stuffed between his lips to muffle groan after groan that flowed past them. for several long seconds, you couldn’t tear your eyes away from the scars running down his neck and heaving pectorals, gleaming in a slight sheen of sweat.

and when you did manage to tear your eyes away, they instantly flitted past his abdomen (which needed its own place in a museum) to the sight of wriothesley’s large—and you meant large—appendage thrusting desperately into his calloused hand between his gargantuan thighs. a bit of precum dribbled from the tip, trailing down his length only to be pushed back up by his fingers and creating a frothy ring near the head of his cock.

you had to stifle a gasp behind your clipboard, trying to process what the hell was happening. the prison administrator and his little friend definitely needed a minute, so you quickly swiveled around to give them just that—only for the sound of his chair screeching backward to freeze you in your tracks.

“who goes there?” his voice boomed throughout the office.

shit!

your heels weren’t doing you much of a favor as you bolted down the staircase, but the adrenaline coursing through your veins overrode every inconvenience to get you to the doorway as fast as possible. however, you didn’t have the strength to budge the doors open (what were they made of? tungsten!?), and before you could even blink, wriothesley had you trapped between the only way out and his bulky figure.

“you thought you could get away?” he snarled, grabbing you by the shoulder (with the hand that was just wrapped around his dick, mind you!) to twist you around and get a good look at your face. your clipboard clattered to the floor, and you nearly screamed when his cock—which was somehow more enraged than he was—prodded against your stomach, making your insides feel like they were doing backflips.

you tried your best not to look at… it… as you spoke up to defend yourself. “sir, it isn’t what it looks like—”

“i think it’s exactly what it looks like,” he interjected angrily, thick eyebrows furrowed above a pair of piercing blue eyes. “what? did one of your fellow inmates dare you to snoop on the warden for blackmail? how many coupons did they offer? hmm?”

“inmates? coupons?” now your eyebrows were furrowed. “monsieur, if you could please let me explain!”

it took a second for wriothesley to regain his senses, and after noticing your foreign attire and trembling form, he retreated at once. “archons, i…” he stroked his face with his hand and covered his eyes, letting out a shaky sigh. “i’m terribly sorry. i thought you were one of them.”

“them?”

he nodded dejectedly in response before dropping his hand to the side and meeting your eyes, but this time, it wasn’t with indignation. “yes, a group of ill-intentioned people recently formed in order to unmask my secrets…” he had to look away for a moment before continuing. “...one of them being what i do in my office during lunchtime.”

“...oh.”

“as for you…” over his broad chest, he crossed his arms that could crush watermelons with one flex (okay, maybe you were overexaggerating.) “how did you gain entry into my office? it should have been locked.”

you cleared your throat. “a guard let me in.” wriothesley parted his lips to question that, but you were already one step ahead. “he seemed new.”

the warden managed to put two and two together, and a sense of dread began consuming him from head to toe. “you’re… the envoy from mondstadt,” he realized, a taste in his mouth more bitter than the tea he oversteeped this morning. “i must say: you’re a bit early.”

you replied with a light shrug, “the cavalry is expeditious.”

“right. that’s… great.” he gave you a tight-lipped smile. “could… could you give me a minute? i would like to make myself presentable so that i can give you a proper introduction, and… again, i want to apologize for having you walk in on something so vulgar. i’ll be sure to compensate for it in any way possible.”

your original plan from the beginning was to give this man a minute, but… the longer you stood in his presence, the more aroused you felt. he was really handsome, standing many heads taller than you and practically oozing with sex appeal. the tidbits about his appearance that you heard through the grapevine in mondstadt couldn’t hold a candle to the real thing. watching him jerking off earlier, there was definitely a moment when you wanted to replace his hand with your cunt.

pause.

this might be the only opportunity for you to break away from the perfect image you were constantly upholding. throughout your adolescence and young adulthood, you had trained to become a professional in your field and garnered copious experience in diplomacy so that you could obtain a high-ranking position in government. this caused you to miss out on a lot of the joys in life, including sex. that was the first time you had seen a penis in the flesh.

“did you say any way possible?” you inquired.

“of course, i’m a reasonable man. i doubt i’ll be opposed to anything during today’s negotiations.”

after a moment of hesitation, you braced yourself for an eternity’s supply of humiliation and let your last thread of sanity snap in two. you fell to your knees right in front of his throbbing member, which was still as hard as a rock.

“...then you won’t be opposed to this, right?” you murmured. in a bold move, you leaned forward to press your cheek against the side of his cock, all while maintaining eye contact with him.

wriothesley sharply inhaled through his teeth, blood rushing to his face as he took a step back. “what… what are you…!?”

but he wasn’t dumb. he knew what you were intending. however, this felt more like you were doing a favor for him when he was supposed to be doing one for you.

and do one he shall.

in one frame, you were hunkered down on the floor in front of his grace, and in the next frame, you were being carried to the second floor of the office in his sinewy arms. you were in no danger of being dropped, but you clung onto his shirt regardless, squealing your head off and flailing your legs like a feral animal, which only added to wriothesley’s amusement.

“are you regretting your decision?” he asked, his lips curled into a smug smile. “i can always stop. just say the word.”

your heart was racing at a mile a minute as he kicked a coffee table out of the way and plopped you onto the couch. when he crouched between your legs, a sheepish you batted his greedy hands away and hurriedly shoved your thighs together. “wait, i… this is escalating way too fast!” you quavered. “are we about to…” do the devil’s tango? the pickle in the jar? the train into the tunnel!?

a gruff chuckle rumbled from his chest. “you were the one who initiated it,” wriothesley pointed out with a wolfish grin. “i’m just finishing what you started, mondstadter.”

“but i just wanted to help you with your… ‘problem’!” you shot back, cheeks rivaling the red of a tomato. “why am i suddenly on the receiving end!?”

“ah, that’s where you’re wrong, because this will help me with my problem,” the duke replied, tugging your pants down your hips to reveal your drenched undergarment. you instantly convulsed and buckled your knees as he pressed his thick fingers against your clothed pussy, and when he drew them back, a string of wetness extended from your underwear to his fingertips.

remember when wriothesley convinced himself that all he needed was self-love?

fuck that.

“your grace!” you cried out as he dove forward and, with his hands anchoring your thighs, began ravaging your clit through the fabric, his tongue swirling and swiping against it ruthlessly. you had not even a millisecond to breathe as your vision blurred from tears of unmitigated satisfaction. with little strength, you reached out to wrench at his dark locks of hair, which only spurred him on further to attack your quivering folds.

archons almighty, what would it feel like if he—

as if he was reading your mind, wriothesley peeled your panties to the side, and the roughness of his tongue along with his pointer finger sliding in sent your body into another realm of pleasure. if accidentally smacking the back of your head against the couch’s gilded crest rail wasn’t the reason you saw stars just now, then it undoubtedly had to be the duke’s skillful ministrations.

“you’re so responsive,” wriothesley murmured, his hot breath deliciously fanning your skin. you were going crazy from his nose nudging against your sensitive bud as he flattened his tongue to completely coat each and every taste bud with your essence, and his digit continued to slide in and out at an inhumane speed, coaxing more and more of your whines and moans. “fuck, and your slut pussy is taking my finger so well. how many people have gotten the chance to see this pretty view?”

pretty view? you mentally scoffed while struggling to keep your wits about. says him! not every day did a tall, dark, and handsome man lap at your arousal like it was his last meal! you questioned how he could even breathe down there.

“no, i… j-just… just you…” you managed between labored gulps of air, your cheeks flushed of color. “i… i’ve never… d-done this… before.”

in the midst of leaving a bite mark on the side of your thigh, wriothesley abruptly extricated his finger, which made your pulsating hole very unhappy. “are you saying this is your first time?” he asked in disbelief.

you nodded timidly. when he didn’t respond right away, you grew worried that he got turned off by your admission, but weirdly enough, he snickered.

“looks like we’re in the same boat,” wriothesley stated to your bafflement. having withdrawn his finger, he brought it to his mouth and sucked it clean of your fluids before returning to lightly thumb your clit using circular motions. you had to scoot away because how else were you going to speak clearly with him doing that!?

“y-you’re a virgin!?” you spluttered, ogling down at this man like he had just grown a horn on top of his head.

“way to rub it in,” he jeered at you in a mocking tone. “yes, i’m a virgin. what’s so surprising?”

“because… you’re you!” you stressed. “have you seen yourself in the mirror? it’s a crime for you to look like a sex god without having had sex!”

once again, wriothesley found himself enlivened by your visceral reactions. when an advisor informed him of a diplomat’s advent this week, the warden was ready to be bored to tears by another mundane businessperson. and could you blame him? a few weeks ago, an ambassador hailing from sumeru went on and on about an invention that they wanted to promote to the fortress of meropide’s inhabitants.

…that invention boasted a 41% success rate.

so imagine wriothesley’s gaping jaw when, the moment you bent your knees and voiced your offer, all of his expectations were chucked out of the window.

“‘crime’?” he echoed, followed by a husky chuckle. “i see what you did there. how does it feel to be in love with a criminal?”

a frown weighed down the corners of your lips. “hold on. i may or may not be succumbing to a criminal, but who’s saying i’m in love with one?”

“your body is telling me everything i need to know,” rizzley wriothesley crooned as he rested the side of his head against your thigh. “well, except for your name.”

“…reader,” you answered breathily. “my name is reader.”

“reader.” he nodded in approval. “well, reader, let me show you how we do it in fontaine.”

with newfound vigor, wriothesley mounted the couch so that he was now towering over you and interlocked his hands with yours, pressing them into the vermillion back cushions on either side of your head. as if he was communicating to you that you could no longer escape his advances, even if they became too much.

for some time, he gazed intensely at your blushing face, committing each detail to memory, before he bent down and connected his lips to yours. you tentatively reciprocated his tender kisses, moving your mouth in ways that were unfamiliar yet exhilarating, and shutting your eyes slipped the ground away from your feet and made you feel like you were floating. he let go of one hand to tuck a few loose strands of hair behind your ear, which grew into him absentmindedly caressing your cheek like you were made of glass. your neck tickled. your ear burned. every single touch felt like fire on your skin. every kiss was slowly melting your body into mush, melding your body with his. there was no longer a distinction between where you ended and where he began.

after you parted your lips to impart the permission wriothesley’s tongue frenziedly sought, it wasn’t long before the kiss spiraled into a battle for dominance—a battle you lost in the blink of an eye. you could taste remnants of yourself on his tongue from his previous indulgences, which successfully heightened how aroused you were tenfold. your free hand crept up and started kneading your breast through your blouse, your moans swallowed by wriothesley’s mouth.

when he noticed you began touching yourself, he pulled away to your dismay.

he really liked how you craned your neck toward him at the very end of the kiss when he disentangled from you, as though his and your pairs of lips were opposite ends of a magnet. he liked seeing you craving more.

he didn’t like that you were getting ahead of yourself.

“nuh-uh, love,” he whispered, pulling your wrist to the side. “that’s my job.”

wriothesley tugged the hem of your blouse up to expose your bra, and he whistled at the sight. “beige?” he just had to point out with a smirk, bearing a canine. “you really know how to rile me up.”

you internally facepalmed at morning you’s choice of wardrobe. “i was walking into this expecting to have a proper conversation, not to get laid.”

he cocked an eyebrow and suddenly went into business mode. “what was your proposition anyway?”

you couldn’t help but laugh out loud before grasping his large hand and placing it on your chest. “are we really about to do our meeting now?” you chided him.

“you and i are already ‘meeting’ in every sense of the word.”

an affectionate smile broke through your face, and you tugged the man forward by his red tie. “come here, you big hunk.”

wriothesley mirrored your warmth and captured your lips in a searing kiss before traveling down to pepper smooches on your neck and suckle along your collarbone, his teeth the paintbrush and your skin the canvas. he slithered his fingers into the confines of your bra and pinched your nipples to elicit more r-rated sounds from your mouth, and in the corner of your low-lidded eyes, you became very conscious of the reality that his dick would twitch every time you moaned.

anemo archon, forgive me for mine own sins.

“reader,” he gasped. he hunched forward and almost smothered you with his chest as you began to stroke his cock, a bolt out of the blue. you weren’t expecting him to display such a visceral reaction, so you halted at the base of his manhood (which your hand couldn’t even fully wrap around…)

“did i do something wrong?”

“no, not at all,” he affirmed strongly. “i think the problem…”

…was that the sensation of your touch felt astonishingly different to him greasing the pole. it was a shuddering ecstasy that sprinted along his body and unlocked the carnal desires he had kept stowed away.

the key to his dick heart was supposed to have been eternally lost at sea. that was something he was sure of. that was something every person who tried to get close to him was sure of. so he ignored sigewinne’s recommendations, he ignored the rumors of his impotence among the prisoners, and he tried to ignore the hot flashes that jolted him awake in the dead of night, reminding him again that he had always been devoid of love since the start.

but then you came prancing into his office, swinging that key around your finger.

wriothesley’s breathing became shallow, and he pressed his lips firmly into a thin, white line as he stared down at you. how were you shining so splendidly in contrast to the dull lights of his office? how did your frowning lips still look so kissable? how were you looking at him like you were seeing right through him?

he didn’t even know you.

was he deluding himself?

did sigewinne spike his tea?

should he keep going?

what if he hurt you?

a gentle tapping on his forearm hauled wriothesley out of his rumination. he realized he was sweating a lot.

“now i’m sure i did something wrong,” you said worriedly.

wriothesley swallowed harshly before shaking his head, his tufted black hair swaying from side to side. “no… the problem is that… i don’t think i can hold back.”

…

“then what are you waiting for?” you deadpanned. “are you into blue balling?”

wriothesley blinked. “uh, not necessarily…”

“then let’s do it on your table.”

…

“reader…” wriothesley covered his blushing face with the back of his hand. “has anyone told you how… forward you can be?”

a giggle bubbled from your throat. “i’m pretty sure my field requires me to be forward. is it a turn-off?”

“i couldn’t be happier,” he reassured you gladly, and you were soon swept up into another bridal carry. “i will warn you though. if you make a mess of my documents, there will be punishment.”

you smiled. “looking forward to it.” (hopefully, wriothesley didn’t notice he was already going to need new seat cushions after this.)

wriothesley set you down onto his hardwood table, your back toward him, and had you prop one leg up onto the edge, putting your pussy on full display for his enjoyment. he watched in a hypnotic trance as your fluids dripped like a leaking faucet, and he wanted nothing more than to plug you up and fill your needy cunt to the brim. the warden soaked his fingers in your juices to lather them over his shaft, but while he had one hand gripping your hip and the other lining his member up with your entrance, his muscles stiffened. you peeked at him from over your shoulder.

“blue balling bastard!” you almost shouted, but he appeared too distraught to be badgered.

“i don’t have a condom,” wriothesley moaned, falling forward and smacking his forehead against your shoulder. for the first time in a long time, he really wanted to cry. “i would have to walk over to the infirmary and grab one for us, but—”

“—i can’t wait much longer,” you two finished in tandem breathlessly, eyes fixed upon each other. in a matter of seconds, this became a pressing matter that left you and wriothesley in deep contemplation. two strangers—total virgins at that—were literally about to raw dog it. honestly, your parents would be bouncing off the walls over this since they always lamented their graying hairs yet shortage of grandchildren.

but wriothesley… you knew a man of his status was much too preoccupied with handling prison affairs as opposed to prison "affairs". although the iudex of fontaine would be anyone’s first thought at the word “justice”, the administrator of the fortress of meropide delivered his own fair share of justice to maintain order when fights broke out in corridors, to overlook the production of gardemeks, and to protect the peace he had fostered in this very structure.

these things were what made you hurriedly request an audience with wriothesley in the first place. his impressive accomplishments as the new leader of the stronghold were what brought the you from mondstadt to the him in fontaine. however, you now found yourself in a sticky situation that would burden wriothesley further if you two took this risk. a child between you and him… that hadn’t been in your agenda.

plus, the steambird would really get a hoot out of this. “breaking news: mondstadt ambassador walked into the fortress of meropide and walked out with a baby lump.”

so, you made up your mind.

“wrio—”

“will you let me come inside of you, reader?” he whispered against the shell of your ear, making your heart drop to the pit of your stomach. your vaginal walls automatically clenched around nothingness at the thought as you gasped and gaped back at him in bewilderment.

“what…? are you sure!?”

wriothesley nodded. “i-i promise, reader, to be a loving partner to you and devoted father to our child,” he choked out, his voice thick with emotion. “i’ve dreamt of having kids with the person i cherish so that they can grow up in a household where they feel safe, but… my greatest fear in life is becoming the monster that… th-that my foster parents were to me and my adoptive siblings.” his face went white. he could feel himself on the verge of vomiting, which he swore he had rooted out long ago. the scars on his body had never felt more painful. “i know that that belief is unfounded, but… i’ve been a violent person since i was a teenager. since the day that i… i killed them.”

“so if you do not wish to bear a child with a person like me, i understand,” wriothesley avowed, his eyes turned down in shame. “i can find other means to make you feel good, and i’ll just… go to the restroom to finish my business.”

you were finally learning about the warden's haunting backstory, sealed behind his assertive exterior. immediately, tears sprung to the corners of your eyes. you twisted your torso to cup his face with shaking hands and look him square in the face.

“wriothesley… you are so much more than your past,” you insisted earnestly. “are you not aware of how incredible of a person you are? of how many lives you have changed for the better? you couldn’t change the past, so you made it your life mission to change the future of every person who’s living and breathing in this stronghold right now. you converted your suffering into something that led to the liberation of many others’.” you gave him a wobbly smile through the tears streaming down your cheeks like waterfalls. “that’s why i wanted to meet you, wrio. i wanted to meet the man behind the operations, behind the smiles on these prisoners’ faces. so please… don’t ever think badly of yourself.”

as the color returned to wriothesley’s cheeks, the duke couldn’t look away from the eyes that sparkled up at him so brilliantly. it was mesmerizing. his heart had never felt this full, and he wanted it to be as close to yours as possible. without missing a beat, his arms wrapped around your body, lightly brushing against your nipples in the process and causing them to harden on contact. he pressed his entire frontside against your back, and you could clearly feel his heart pounding wildly against his ribcage (and his dick saying hi from between your thighs).

“you’re so good to me, reader,” wriothesley mumbled. “what did i do to deserve this?”

you laughed and caressed the side of his head. “i just told you, idiot.”

his signature smirk returned in all of its glory, and he trailed his hands down to rest on your hips. “hold onto something.”

“what? agh!”

your body lurched forward once wriothesley drove his cock into your sopping heat, every inch dragging along your walls until he reached your cervix and his pelvic bone was right against your ass. a guttural moan escaped as he remained perfectly motionless, reveling in the feeling of your pussy rippling along his length, and you clamped a hand over your mouth to mask the embarrassing noises seeping through. the pain was unexpectedly minimal, but now you had to deal with this enormous object penetrating you to your very core. and not a moment passed before he started pushing in and out of you, squelching noises rebounding off the metal surroundings as your bated breath was yanked from your throat. throughout wriothesley’s grunts of exertion, a moan poured past your lips at each thrust, his balls slapping against your puffy lips and the table legs screeching in reply. his hands slid up to mercilessly flick your nipples with his thumbs at a rate that engendered tightening sensations to build up inside of your lower abdomen.

“wrio!” you exclaimed, writhing in ecstasy. you didn’t think you could handle the pert beads on your chest being fondled in unison with him pistoning your cunt from the back for another minute. “wr-wrio…! hnngh… ah! i feel so w-weird… ah! nngh…!”

“it’s a good weird, yeah?” growled wriothesley amid nibbling on your earlobe. “i can tell by the way your womb is descending to meet my cock, just begging for my seed. and that’s exactly what i’ll give you.”

“nngh, i… i’m… a-agh!” you pathetically blubbered. a stream of saliva ran from the corner of your lips as he pounded into your tight channel with savage intensity, the whites of your glazed eyes beginning to show. “i-i think i’m gonna c-come…!”

“shit…” he rasped, noticing the telltale signs of an orgasm building up in both of you. “me, too…” he roughly grabbed your chin, fingers digging slightly into flesh, so that he could witness your expression contorting with bliss as you reached your cusp. “i want you to take every drop of my cum, reader. every fucking drop until nothing but my essence flows from your depraved hole.”

you nodded and pursed your lips, overwhelmed by the persistent and passionate onslaught on your pussy that was utterly molded into the shape of his velvet-wrapped steel. “yes, p-please…! wrio, please shoot it inside of me!”

finally, wriothesley bit down on your shoulder and slammed home into your depths, burying himself inside of your womanhood while releasing thick ropes of semen. your muscles convulsed and clamped down onto his cock with a vice, milking it until he had emptied his balls completely. the light humming of the industrial fan above commingled with the heavy panting of the two bodies that have become one, drunk on the languid atmosphere.

“you’re so obedient,” he cooed, nudging aside a lock of hair that was clinging to your sweaty forehead, whereas you were still reeling from wave after wave of endorphins. as you endeavored to muster the strength to respond, wriothesley glanced down at his files freshly marinating in your juices. “well, for the most part,” he added. “what did i say about my documents?”

“i…” you scowled and snapped back at him haughtily, “i wasn’t trying to ruin them!”

his mellow chuckle resonated in your ears, and in the ensuing seconds, the sound of clinking metal pivoted your attention.

“well, you can’t argue that they’re illegible now,” he said, effortlessly restraining your wrists in handcuffs from archons knew where. you also came to the startling realization that his member hadn’t softened one bit since he came within your spongy walls. “and as the duke of the fortress of meropide, i must carry out punishment where i see fit.”

“…lord barbatos.”

“haha, i love you, too.”

(several days later, charlotte got her big paycheck after spotting another “meeting” between you and wriothesley behind café lutece.)

#genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x y/n #genshin impact x y/n #genshin x you #genshin impact x you #wriothesley x reader #fluff #crack #comfort #angst #smut #stella writes — !#love at first thrust

835 notes · View notes

pathologicalreid · 27 days

Note

Hi, I was hoping you could please write a Spencer x fem!reader where they're hanging out as friends but they get separated and she gets aggressively hit on and is uncomfy. He sees this, realizes he likes her in that way, gets jealous, and steps in to protect her? Please oh please!!!

red flags | S.R.

spencer steps in to protect you from a drunkard

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: fluff content warnings: protective!spencer, bars, alcohol, reader gets very aggressively hit on and is called a bitch and baby doll, reader is explicitly referred to as female (girl, lady, woman), kissing, spencer makes the first move (ooc?), the guy at the bar should be arrested ngl word count: 1.17k a/n: i fear i may have verged from the request, but i hope you enjoy it nonetheless! thank you so very much for requesting!!!!! <333

Shaking your head, you stood up from the table, “It’s fine, I’ll go up to the bar.”

“Are you sure?” Spencer asked from his seat, looking up at you with big brown eyes.

Smiling softly at him, you grabbed your purse off of the booth seat and walked across the restaurant to the bar. Neither you nor Spencer were really “bar” people, but this place was close enough to Marbury University’s campus that it felt worth your while.

That, and it had been deemed a “townie” bar by your students, so there was a low probability of running into any pupils here.

Dinner with your colleague had eventually turned into your entire night spent in that very booth, now that the kitchen had closed and the waitstaff clocked out for the night, you had to go to the bar to get water.

As you waited for the bartender to notice you, you turned your head back and shot Spencer a reassuring smile. You weren’t sure either of you had been in this situation before – no one wanted the night to end.

Next to you, a man nudged you with his arm, “I’ll pay for the lady’s drink.” Judging by the smell of him, he’d had enough drinks for the entire bar.

“I’m just getting water,” you brushed the man off, holding up the number two to let the bartender know that you wanted two glasses of water.

Naturally, the drunkard next to you didn’t get the message, he continued to pester you, “We can’t have that, let me get you a drink, little lady.”

Demeaning nickname aside, you had no interest in drinking anything this man purchased. Crinkling your nose, you responded, “Thanks, but I’m really not interested.”

He leaned over the bar and looked at you, bright green eyes and salt and pepper hair – your unwelcome companion was probably old enough to be your father. “In me or the drink?” He asked as you tried not to gag at the sheer stench of whiskey on his breath.

Resolutely, you decided not to answer the man’s questions. Your attempts at placating him were obviously not turning out the way you had wanted them to.

“Hey,” he interrupted your thoughts. “I asked you a question,” he prodded.

He was persistent. Persistent men were bothersome, but persistent drunk men were dangerous. Red flags were appearing in your head as you looked over at him, “Neither, I suppose.” Glancing back at your table, you hoped to shoot a ‘help me’ look to Spencer, but he was nowhere to be found.

The man seemed offended at your answer, reaching out to set a hand on your arm. The red flags quickly morphed into sirens. “What, are you some kind of prude or something?”

Despite your attempts to remain stone-faced, your lips parted in shock.

Lowering his head so it was level with yours, he whispered, “I can fuck the prude out of a girl, you know?”

Had he really just said that to you? In a public place?

“She said she’s not interested,” a familiar voice said from behind you as you flicked the man’s hand off of your upper arm.

Your harasser looked outraged as if he was viewing Spencer stepping in as a personal attack. Scoffing, the older man shook his head, “Do you usually butt into other people’s conversations?”

Spencer furrowed his eyebrows in response to the challenge, “Do you usually harass women at bars?”

“Fuck off, dude,” he said. You held back a laugh in response to this man calling Spencer ‘dude.’

Shrugging, Spencer reached out a pulled you away from the man, familiarly setting his hand on your waist. You weren’t sure how long had had been standing behind you, but you were glad he was there. “Why didn’t you?” Spencer retorted easily, you supposed he worked with people like this often when he worked with the FBI.

A confused look contorted the man’s features, “What the fuck do you mean?” He obviously wasn’t used to being stood up to.

“When she asked to be left alone, you didn’t. What makes you more deserving of having your wish granted?” Spencer impugned easily, never moving his hand from where it rested on your waist. Without meaning to, you had backed into him, leaning your back into his chest.

What looked like realization dawned on the man’s face as he nodded. “Oh,” he said, the gravel in his voice causing the hairs on the back of your neck to stand up.

You peered up at Spencer, “Can we just go, please?” You implored. The bill was paid, you just needed to walk out the door.

“You’re already screwing her,” the man said – far too confidently.

Flinching at his crude language, this time you tugged at Spencer’s jacket to try and get his attention, “Spencer, let’s just go.”

The drunk man shook his head, “No, baby doll. Don’t go. I want to know what he thinks he’s gonna do. Are you gonna stop me from getting to your bitch?”

Before Spencer even had the opportunity to react to his words, you had instinctively grabbed one of the ice waters that the bartender had placed on the mat and tossed it in his face. Maybe it would help him sober up, but it felt good either way.

Reinvigorated, you grabbed Spencer’s hand and dragged him out of the restaurant, not stopping until you were up the street and away from the bar. “What was that?” You mumbled to yourself; you had never lashed out against someone like that.

“I’m sorry,” Spencer said from behind you, causing you to spin on your heel. You peered up at him through mascara-covered lashes as you waited for him to continue his thoughts. “It wasn’t my intention to make him think you couldn’t stand up for yourself, but you looked so uncomfortable out there that I had to step in. Believe me, I’ve seen situations where that exact situation has gone south very quickly.”

You did believe him. Timidly, you nodded in acknowledgment “Thank you, Spencer. I was uncomfortable,” you admitted, “I’m glad you were there.”

Taking a deep breath, you stepped away from him, looking at the street signs and trying to acclimate yourself to your location.

“Do you mind if we take the long way around Third Street? I don’t really want to have to oh-“ You were cut off by the feeling of soft lips on yours.

All night, you had been thinking of ways to make the first move. It hadn’t occurred to you that he would be the one to make the first move.

Slowly, Spencer pushed you back against the brick wall, moving the both of you so you weren’t in the middle of the sidewalk. Shyly, you reached up and wove your fingers in his hair as he kissed you as if his life depended on it.

Leaving you breathless, he pulled away. “As it turns out, I don’t mind taking the long way around. At all.”

#criminal minds #spencer reid #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #criminal minds fluff #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fic #criminal minds fic #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid angst #criminal minds angst #margot's requests #protective!spencer

697 notes · View notes

gremlingottoosilly · 7 months

Text

Cabin in the woods (yan!slasher!Konig x fem!Reader x yan!slasher!Horangi) part 2

You listen to the story about those woods. Turns out, real life is way, way nastier than any of those stories. Don't lose your head.

TW for the chapter: Blood, gore, dead bodies, slut shaming(usage of outdated horror tropes), knife play, blood play, mentions of STDs

— Do you know what animal is this?

The body of a small creature – rodent, probably, you don’t think there could be any other animals around – was lying on the road near the place you decided to stay for the night. The “Coolest fucking thing in the world that is also just a few hours from here” was still a few hours from here because it was fucking dark and you already left your car on the sidewalk, hoping no one would steal it because honestly, why would anyone need this pile of burning crap.

— According to the “Basic Bestiary of Austrian Animals” it might be an extremely rare Austrian Marmont.

You fucking hated Max. Mostly because his form of being different was “being an intelligent asshole” and also because he would never forget to rub the fact you were behind him in the grades into your face.

— Waaaaaaait, a mamont? But it’s small! You have to give Karen – blonde, tan, tall, straight C everywhere except for her chest (then it would be D everywhere) – credit. As adorably silly as she was, she was still the only person you could have a meaningful conversation with. Except for the times when she was fucking your boyfriends. Or when she forgot that you don’t have a boyfriend so he doesn’t need to fuck random people just to spite you.

— Perhaps, if we are extremely lucky, a European edible dormouse, also known as…

— Fuuuuuck, people eat this thing? Yuck! Austria is like, literally the worst country EVER!

You feel like every second of this conversation, even though you are just listening to it, is going to take 10 years from your life span. You never knew why the two got together – maybe because Max loved fucking someone dumber than he is, and Gretchen loved placing the responsibility for her actions on her beloved sociopathic boyfriend.

You wanted to say that this was literally a fucking squirrel, but you know better. Not like anyone is going to listen anyway.

You get to the supposed location a few hours – already deep in the night, everything that you hate about forests – unkept environment, horrible living conditions, mosquitos, and occasionally wild animals are making you squirm each time your butt switches the place and you involuntarily sit on the cold, damp ground. You lick your lips, trying to adjust in the position in front of the fire. Fire that you probably shouldn’t be making in the middle of the private territory, but Chad said the place belongs to some weird hillbillies who wouldn’t care about a bunch of college grads having fun.

You just finished the last of your coke – mixed with cheap whiskey and rum you got back at home, you feel just buzzy and fuzzy and relaxed enough to at least try to engage with people around you. Just didn’t want to make Jenny embarrassed – she was the one to vouch for you, even though you didn’t want to go camping with them.

— I heard there is something happening in these woods.

Everyone around you groans and you comply, groaning too. Chad has the worst storytelling voice and even Marty – the resident stoner of the group – is visibly unhappy about having to listen to his dumb jokes. Brace yourself for at least twenty minutes of dumb story with a cheap attempt to scare you.

— You talk like those locals. What can be here except for drunkards?

— Very fucking funny, Marty, I hope you laugh at people’s death too.

Everyone groans again.

— Shut up and let me finish! So, there is something hiding in those woods…legends…

— What legends? This place was built like 20 years ago.

— Shut the fuck up, Max! It’s the legends before the town even was built. In those very forests…

— Forests? I thought it was like, just a suburban area.

— It’s wild Austrian woods, why I would put you to adventure in the fucking suburbs?

— You’re a suburb baby.

— Shut it! God, I hate you guys. Alright, so…these woods are populated with…creatures.

— Ooooh, like the mammoth we saw!

— Karen, seriously, what the fuck? These woods are filled with motherfucking human-eating killers, not just some animals!

— Then why do you say “creatures”? — Because it makes for a good fucking story! God, everyone, this is why none of you are studying creative writing!

— Only your parents have money to pay for it.

— This is why you all are fucking losers. Alright…god, I hate you. People went missing in these woods. Mostly tourists, never the local population – this is why police don’t care about it. Bodies were found, half-eaten, rotting under that very tree!

— Which tree? There are like 10 of them just here.

— More like 100.

— Under every fucking tree! — That’s a lot of bodies.

Chad groans, visibly aggressive. You just tilt your head to the side, only talking to him once before taking the last sip of your Coke and standing from your place. You wanted to take a chance to see those woods before you’d be going even deeper the next night – Chad was planning quite an adventure in the wilderness, to your dismay, and you wanted to have a chance to see the cool part of nature before you would grow tired of it.

To your surprise, Karen was nowhere to be seen. Knowing the girl, she is far too innocent and dumb to be here – probably ran away to not listen to scary stories or got lost while trying to find a good place to pee. You sigh, feeling that it is your responsibility to pick her up – she is Marty’s girlfriend, but he is too stoned out to notice her disappearance yet.

You stumble on your foot – alcohol makes you dizzy, makes you relaxed and smiley. You don’t even care that no one came to ask what the fuck you are doing – as far as you aware, they all can go and fuck themselves while you have a lot more fun things to do. Like searching for a drunk girl in the forest in the middle of the night…yeah, you really should work on your definition of fun.

You already a good few minutes into the forest. Nothing but trees, not even a squirrel or a wolf pocking around to feast on yummy bodies. Not like you wanted to see a wolf, of course, but meeting with the wild life could be fun. You’d like to see a bear, for example.

(And you will – just a bit later)

— Karen? Karen, are you alright? You decide to scream for her once you are far enough from your friends that they won’t question why you are so concerned for her. Poor girl was obviously scared and you didn’t want to embarrass her even further, so you stroll through the woods, an empty bottle of coke in your hand – not sure why you didn’t threw it away. Littering isn’t nice, after all.

— Karen? You’re scaring everyone, come out!

You scream some more – she is probably lost, deep enough that she can’t even hear you. You try not to panic, try to be the reasonable friend – it’s usually Jenny’s task but here you are, trying to be the cool one of your friend group. You yell for Karen some more, listening closely to every little sound that could be easily taken as her whimper or cry for help.

Nothing.

Just how far can a scared drunk girl go? Probably not further away than you – you’re already starting to get tired and you knew that Sidhey got far drunker than you are. Which means she could lay here, somewhere, passed from the exhaustion, freezing, with forest animals feasting on her…no, no, you can’t think like that. She is fine, she has to be, or you are going to get into so much trouble with the police and her parents. You never told any of your families about the trip, so you wouldn’t want to get in trouble what ould require their assistance.

You take a step into deeper part of the forest – and you think you saw a glimpse of…something. Metal, probably, might be her phone or that atrociour hair dye she is using to stop everyone from calling her a mouse. You also think you could hear a sound of someone breathing – heavily, gruffly, definitely a male, but you don’t really know how. You squint, trying to see through the trees.

You see Karen.

— Karen? God, you scared everyone…well, me. Where the fuck have you been?

You smile and wave at her, your drunken state isn’t allowing you to see that, for some weird reason, she isn’t waving back. Or moving, so to speak. She stared at you with that terrified expression of hers and you tilt your head to the side, not udneratanding why is she like that. Something happened between her and others?

You take another step back and Karen falls.

Well…her head falls, anyway.

There are a lot of feelings right now. Panic, panic, panic, a little bit of panic and, oh, who could have guessed, another riel of panic which makes you freak the fuck out and sprint – towards her. Maybe she will be alive if you could put her head back on her neck really-really fast?

— Is it too late to convince you this is all a dream?

The voice.

You don’t recognize it – it’s distorted and quiet under the mask and you don’t know anyone int his fucking place anyways. The voice is weirdly happy, weirdly laughing and you want to vomit from how easy-going it sounds. Like the corpse of your beheaded friend is nothing, like it’s a fun pun, like…

You laungh forward, trying to, maybe, get revenge on your not-really-a-friend. Guy lets go of Karen’s body, allowing it to fall down, her head rolling to the nearest creek and tumbling into the water like a sports ball. You can’t even sob – the situation feels too unreal, too shocking, you are still very much drunk and when the guy simply wraps his hands around your waist, not allowing you to move even an inch, you fall limp in his hold.

You sob.

His hand goes to grasp your face in a tight embrace, making you gag from the smell of blood splattered all across his hand. You hear chuckle.

— Didn’t want you to see that first. Wanted to play hero, yes?

You sob, you tremble, you can barely master a few words out of your mouth. You want to scream, but it’s like all the air just decided to disappear from your lungs. So, you cry instead. How brave of you, Karen would be so proud of her friend not even trying to avenge her death.

— F…fuck…you.

You master with all you strength. Guy is laughing again – his other hand goes to squeeze your waist even more, pushing you against a tree. He wears a full mask with some red drawings on it – a satanic cult, really? You thought about serial killer, maybe, but definetly not about crazy cult maniacs running around. The more you know.

— Oh, kitten, I’d love to fuck myself. But you’re here for this, no?

He called you kitten – you squirm in his grasp, not wanting to give him the easy way to kill you. Something pokes you to the side – it’s a knife. Large, sharp, military-issued, you saw it in movie and action TV shows – and now the bloody razor almost grazing over your skin, through the thing fabric of your open jacter and a simple T-shirt.

— Wh…who are you?

Stpuid question, really.

— Why does everyone wants to ask who we are all the time? Would you die happier knowing my name? Would it help you escape knowing how many beauty marks I have?

It would certainly help the police if you were to survive the encounter. Even though you are certainly going to die right next to Karen over there.

He pushes a knife towards your side, the blade cutting through fabric easily, You brace yourself for being gutted alive.

— I don’t like stupid questions. Ask something wrong and I will see if you are as pretty on the inside as you are on the outside.

In a normal situation, you would punch him for such a corny joke. But you’re too drunk for this, but you’re too exhausted for this, but you just want to curl away in some nice place and fucking die, but not because he was the one to kill you. You certainly do not want to give him the satisfaction of being the one for you.

So, you feel your cheeks heating up with the faintest of blushes.

— What are you going to do with me?

He pushes the knife deeper, sharp edge cutting the thin line into your side. You sob immediately, tears filling your eyes as you almost feel blood – not a lot of it, just a tiny sharp streak – fill your shirt. You want to vomit, hate pain, and everything that is related to it. Thinking that the knife is dirty already and he would probably infect you with whatever one of the 13 STDs Karen has if he were to proceed. He stops right before the blade can penetrate your skin.

— I’m a serial killer. What do you think I will do with you?

You shake your head, trying to search for the question that won’t make him plunge a knife into your body.

— W…what is your favorite color?

Good job. Amazing job. Let’s hope you don’t like your liver all that much because he is definitely going to cut it out and eat it.

— Red. I like you.

Suddenly, you are being pushed to your knees. Suddenly, he is standing right in front of you – he is tall, of course, bulky and big, and he seems even bigger from this angle. Your face is pressed against his crotch and you can feel the dread slowly filling up your weins. Is he going to…

He presses a knife against your lips – you part it obediently, nervously, you feel your face twitching with disgust as your mouth immediately fills with the metallic taste of Karen’s blood. You really need to vomit right fucking now, but he is petting your head with his other hand like someone would do to a dog or a cat, and you sob. Too scared to do anything and here you thought you would finally stop letting people walk all over you. You thought it would start a journey of self-actualization and finding your own priorities, but…

He presses the knife a bit deeper.

— Someone here has manners. Your friend here was trying to fuck me until she saw a knife.

Sounds like Karen. You still remember her fucked-out face when she happily stumbled out of your room, with your boyfriend that you thought was never into cheerleaders. She had her urges and it was normal until she started to get off with those urges on everyone who liked you, or who you liked – and with such an innocent smile that no one was ever mad at her.

He presses the knife against your upper jaw, laying it flat on your tongue – you sob, trying not to shake your head too much as he wipes away your tears and pushes your throat even deeper on the blade. You don’t know how it still hasn’t penetrated you yet.

— Squealed like a fucking pig, not even fun anymore. I assume she was the whore of your group?

You shook your shoulders, not wanting to give him any answers. He laughs, pressing the blade down and slightly turning it to the side. You feel the string of saliva running from your open mouth – he wipes it with his finger, leaving blood stains on your face.

— Clean the knife for me, okay? I might leave you live if you would be good for us. You launch onto the opportunity to save your life so quickly, that you don’t even register the word “us” slipping from his tongue.

You suck the knife obediently, carefully holding your tongue from the sharp edge so you won’t cut yourself, trying so desperately not to hurt yourself on the blade, that it’s almost adorable, He looks at you, the way you even fucking hollow your cheeks to clean it more efficiently, like you were sucking a cock and, with every passing second, he doesn’t really feel like killing you anymore.

He feels like keeping you bound to him – maybe cutting your ankles so you would never run away from them, maybe tying you up to the body of your friend and holstering you both to the house, making you watch him gut Karen so you’d know not to run away from them.

He pets your head like you were a cat – and, god, he always adored cats.

You hear the noises from the side – your gaze darts to the nearest bushes as the guy waves his hand to someone gigantic sitting down at your side. Two pair of hands are now petting your head like you were a fucking animal – and you’re still sucking on his knife, feeling the pressure on your lips. You want to die, but there is no choice but to keep living.

— Scheisse, what do you have here?

A hand goes to cup your face and turns you to the side, to meet the giant, bulky figure fully wrapped in camo gear. His face is concealed with some sort of hood, which makes you shake even more. They both look like soldiers – or soldier-cultist-butchers from a horror movie. But, then again, you are in the fucking horror movie, since the big guy has Karen’s head in his hand, holding her by the hair. You sob even more.

— Stumbled across me as I was gutting the slut.

— Is she a smart one then?

The guy with the knife laughs, yanking the blade from your mouth. You want to close it immediately, but the second guy pushes his finger between your lips, keeping them apart – and you are too scared to even try to bite him. Instead, you sit here, obediently, feeling the alcohol in your system working its magic. Again. Making you drowsy and relaxed, panic drained so much energy from your body, that you genuinely feel horrible.

— No, wouldn’t say so. Obedient, more like.

— Not a cool one either. Are you a virgin, Schatz?

You want to lie, just so you won’t feel so fucking embarrassed because of it – but something in the brutality of what they did to Karen made you reconsider. You just shake your shoulders, not wanting to give a definitive answer.

— Cute. Been some time since we saw a cute one like this.

Your sobbing intensifies and the big guy suddenly yanks you on your feet. You immediately feel ill, pressing your head against the tree and emptying your insides – mostly because of the panic and partly because of the amount of alcohol you drank. Their touches are surprisingly soft on your skin, gently removing any stray hairs from your face and holding a firm hand on your back, rubbing the blood and grim into your jacket.

You stand like this for a few minutes, choking on your own tears, vomit, and blood. They coo at you, gentle hands on your body guiding you towards them just so the second guy – a smaller one, relatively of course – could get a hand in your hair and yank it back. Hard.

— Calm the fuck down.

— You’re scaring her, Tigeren.

— Aren’t we here for this?

— Thought you liked this one.

— I do. But…

— But?

— Not fun to take her just now. She can help stir her friends a little. Make them run a little.

They fucking killed Karen and they want to…let you go? They made you clean their knives, stand on your knees in front of them, and then gently helped you empty your insides – just to let you go when you could run into the nearest policeman and destroy their whole little game? Are they dumb or overly confident?

— She could run. I would rather keep her with us.

— They won’t get out of these forests without phones. And their car is already…shit. Spoilers.

— Alright. But I would be the first to take her next time.

— She won’t be any good after you, Ko.

— Our Kleine Hase has more than one hole, ja?

This is it.

You take the opportunity – they are distracted by their little conversation, so you duck under the hand of the bigger man and run in the close direction to where the group is sitting. You are covered in blood, and dirt, you shake like crazy and you can barely even run straight without getting right into the various trees, but you don’t care. You aren’t strong enough to sit here and listen to their conversation – not when the self-preservation makes you forget about Karen. Not when that feeling in your chest can only be described as “She got what she asked for” – because she was a bitch, but not nearly enough to deserve being beheaded by two psychos.

They laugh as they watch you run. Horangi smiles, nudging Konig to the side – you’re not a fighter, but still interesting enough. Adorable and obedient, just vile enough to suck on the same knife that killed your friend – interesting mix, to say the least. Hongjin always wanted a cat, but never got the time on the various deployments – and you behave like a perfect mix of a kitten and bunny.

Konig tilts his head to the side, watching you, this pathetic little thing, run like the devil was after you. He was, of course. and he came in double, but it was still funny, how a city girl like you seriously thought you would be able to get away if they weren’t allowing you to. You’re cute, for a tourist, and he wants to hunt you some more – perfect foreplay before destroying you with either his cock or his knife.

One down – and both of them couldn’t wait to finally get to you.

#cod #call of duty #cod x reader #cod x you #konig x reader #yandere konig #konig mw2 #reader insert #yandere cod #yandere x reader #horangi x you #horangi x könig #horangi x reader #kim horangi hong jin #horangi #slashers

1K notes · View notes

areislol · 4 months

Text

men i trust

ft— various male genshin x gn! reader

warning — mutual pining (?), smitten men, fluff, modern! au, mentions of sex (it's a party/club), mentions of drugging/spiking drinks, mentions of a junkie

a/n— they're the men you can trust fr, another shitpost of mine....

wordcount. 1.9k

synopsis. an alternative title, them holding your drink at a party.

In the midst of pulsating music and vibrant laughter and chatter at a lively party, you along with a friend you've bought stood next to one another near a couch, dancing to the beat with just a little effort.

The thumping bass and flickering lights seemed to swirl around them as they engaged in a conversation, after a couple of minutes you turned to him with a soft smile.

"Hey, do you mind holding my cup for a moment? I need to go to the bathroom!" you yelled over the loud music and chatter, pointing at your cup to indicate something to him just incase he didn't hear you.

He gave you a swift nod in response, "sure, take your time," he replied, extending his hands to accept the cup. You left him momentarily, weaving through the vibrant crowd toward the bathroom.

He stood by the couch, holding your cup as he eyed his surrounding, silently judging the swirl of people around him that were fucking on the couches.

the overly cautious/chivalrous pal, the type to grip onto that cup like his life depends on it. he will shoot glares to whoever's way if he needs to he is NOT messing around.

he takes the responsibility seriously and might even accompany you to the bathroom to ensure a safe return but since you insisted on going alone, he (reluctantly) let you go alone.

his palm is covering the top of your cup (don't worry he washed his hands) as he watches the people in his area like a guard dog, he won't even hesitate to threaten and fight whoever asks to take YOUR cup with absolutely NO shame whatsoever.

but his aura and built itself scares off people (which is why nobody disturbed the both of you) so he doesn't really have anything to worry about but even so, it won't hurt to be cautious.

he watches the people like a HAWK, it's scary actually. to see someone already (somewhat) intimating watching their every move, it ruined their vibe. but if ruining the vibe to make sure no creep does anything to him and your drink then so be it, not like them scurrying away will affect him in any way.

he treats your cup like it's precious jewel, so what if you could go get another if he accidentally dropped it? (he didn't, somebody bumped into him CURSE THEM which resulted into him dropping it by how big the impact was) so what if it was just a cup? it's YOUR FIRST cup!!!

oh did i mention how they won't hesitate to threaten and or fight somebody? oh well they would if they have to, not that they WANT to but the thought of a free man roaming around and spiking people's drinks doesn't sit right with him, what if you were a victim? he would never forgive himself if that ever happened.

which is why he always accompanies you to parties/clubs and nearly EVERYTIME you go out. not that you're complaining though

"hey, you there. pass me that cup.. ya know, from a guy to a guy, eh?" a drunkard 'pst'ed at him, eyeing the cup in his hand that he knew was yours. the drunkard really didn't think he couldn't see the shameless stares he was giving at you, did he?

he only glared at the drunkard (who by a coincidence looked like a junkie as well, it really pulled the pieces together), his eyes narrowing at him. he stayed silent, not wanting to even speak to him and answer, he wasn't worthy anyway.

as the drunkard kept on persisting and was inching closer and closer to him he knew enough was enough and would not allow that man to take one step closer to him and your cup (i mean it held your favourite soda so). "take one more step and i swear you will not live to see another day." the man, clearly confused and scared, stopped in his tracks.

"oh you're their boyfriend, uh? .... that shouldn't matter. you know what to do to help a man in need right? no need to threaten me!" the drunkard let out the most disgusting, vile laugh he had ever heard. he was now irritated. "you think i'm joking huh? would you still think i'm joking if i fought you right now?" his tone was sharp and lethal, he was not having any of it.

that man dare would spike your drink and even shamelessly ask him (not your boyfriend sadly) to pass you your cup? abso-fucking-not. before he knew it the drunkard was on the ground, and although drunk and dazed, was pleading for him to not have mercy on him. "p-please! have mercy on me i swear on my life to never do that ever a-again p-please!" it was a funny sight to say the least, to see him cry and beg for mercy. as he should.

"you better swear on that life of yours, if i ever see you in here asking another man to spike someone's drink you bet i'm beating your ass again. and i promise i won't let you live to see the light."

— ALHAITHAM, WRIOTHESLEY, capitano, diluc, WANDERER, pierro, DAINSLEIF

the reliable one, he is never drunk, barely really. even if he did drink he knew how to control it, he makes sure he's sober when being with you!!! he's fierce when protecting your cup and tries to be friendly/passive but if he needs to be, he will be violent, sigh... they were asking for it.

you know your cup is in safe hands. he is trustworthy and reliable when it comes to protecting your things when you ask for it.

he is positive that nothing will happen, for the couple of hours you've been there no trouble has stirred in the club so he was sure that nothing would happen as he patiently waited for you.

he sits up straight on the couch, holding the cup with his hands, his foot tapping on the ground. as he waits he notices from the corner of his eye someone scooching closer to him. at first he wasn't worried although he was a little on edge but you know, nothing much. but when they got too close for comfort he moved to the side, now focusing on the man.

"uhm, if you could please not come so close to me, thank you." he tried to polite, not wanting to anger the man. he looked sober, so he wasn't drunk nor on drugs. "why not, young man? hey whad'ya say..." his gaze drops to the cup in his hands, he immediately clenched the cup, creeped out. "$10 for that cup?"

"... you.... you do realize that this isn't mine right? why do you want the cup anyway?" at this point he wanted to walk away and never see him ever again but he was in too deep now, plus, he needed to wait here for you. the man chuckles and dismisses his question. "you needn't worry young man, take it or leave it."

without any hesitation he immediately refuses his offer. "no." his answer was blunt and cold, he wasn't messing around. the man slowly backed away upon hearing his tone, grumbling about how men these days don't take the bait.

he takes their role as the holder of your drink very seriously. you can trust that he'll keep a keen eye on it until your return.

but.. if by any chance they are drunk and the only person you trust to hold you drink, you still have faith in him of course! but to be honest when they're drunk they're a little bit... too much so it's okay, nobody will dare to come and talk to him.

— TIGHNARI, KAVEH, xiao, ZHONGLI, THOMA, pantalone, kazuha, AYATO, baizhu, albedo, gorou, NEUVILLETTE

the photographer guardian, they're armed with their phone and take a snapshot of your drink, proclaiming themselves the official cup guardian. they protect your drink yet ensure you have a visual record of your drink's momentary protector.

when he sees that your back is towards him he wastes no time in taking out his phone and snapping a picture of the cup before taking a selfie of him holing the cup to his face, just barely covering half of his face. he took many photos to say the least.

he posted it on his instagram story as well, to the poor soul's finger, take it easy on yourself as you vigorously tap on the screen to get rid of all of his stories.

and the captions? my god the captions. "haha guess who's the cup guardian rn?" "?!?!?! i wonder whose cup this is..." "look at me and this cup, wow... i'm like guarding it so hard rn"

what did "guarding it so hard" mean? no idea. obviously he takes his job seriously as well, but why not have a little fun? i mean you trust him of all people to hold your cup, to protect your cup from being tampered with. so yes, of course he will protect it with his life! if anyone was to come too close for comfort and eye your drink suspiciously, even just a little glance at your drink will put him on high alert.

he tries not to ruin his vibe at the club and refrains from arguing with the person but will not hesitate to throw hands if necessary!! he mumbles under his breath about how annoying this woman was, she randomly walked up to him and began to flirt with him in the hopes of inching closer to him and then maybe spike your drink.

trust me, he has a lot of experience with these types of people, people who flirt or make small talk in order to get closer to the person and then spike the drink without them noticing, unfortunately many people fall for their trick.

"ah, no. what are you trying to do? do you take me for someone stupid?" he's clearly offended that this person thought that they could really trick him. "you really think flirting with me will do you any good? spiking drinks are we?" he tsks, glaring at the woman. she scoffs and gets up from the couch and walks away angrily, her plan had failed.

when you come back and see him taking photos of him with your cup he immediately puts his phone away and acts like he did nothing. "huh? photo? pfffffff WHAATTT no never. no." you know he's lying. like c'mon you LITERALLY caught him in the action.

but please ignore all the notifications on your phone where he mentioned (@ed) you in the pictures he took, it was stupid, yes.

— CYNO, CHILDE, dottore, kaeya, LYNEY, heizou

begins to act feral and barks.. i mean it works so... that's all that matters right?

.... honestly, don't even ask me why or how. they saw one tiktok of someone barking at a man to scare them off and it worked so why not try it out? the second the suspicious man begins to make small talk with him (he looked around 40 years old, a junkie? mayhaps) he doesn't pay too much mind, if anything he exchanged a couple of words

but when he senses that something is off he tries to steer away from him, pointing at random things and trying to get the man to focus on another thing but alas, it did not work. he would do everything to keep your cup safe, so even though his way of keeping your drink safe is a bit silly he only means the best.

"WROOF BARK MEOW GRRRR" oh my days the attention he brought to himself when he began to bark? hello? it's so embarrassing but aye, it worked! the man, clearly terrified now began to back away and cursed at him. "you weirdo!" he yelled before running off. he only laughed it off, yes, he had no shame.

— ITTO, VENTI

note: i just woke up and i forgot i needed to write (9 am help)

taglist: @tomansimp @one-offmind @miitchiji @dainsleif-when-playable @momoewn @stygianoir @irethepotato @v4an @imetsk @fiannee @sunnyf4lls if im missing anyone please tell me because i have an inkling feeling i missed a few..

liking + following + reblogs are very much appreciated!!!

another note: not proof read so if you found any spelling/grammar mistakes PLEASE tell me

1K notes · View notes

warnersister · 2 months

Text

Peaky blinders headcannon ->

“the boys finding out the reader is a virgin”

Find the request here

Tommy🪖

🪖Tommy had been courting you for a good few months now; much longer than he would any other woman. But he quite liked you so he was more than willing to make an exception for the lovely young lady that had just moved to the area.

🪖You’d moved for a fresh start, away from your past and to Birmingham. You’d packed your bags and left home and got on the train - taking it as far as it would go and got out when the conductor pleaded with you to disembark as they’d start the journey back to your beginnings.

🪖You’d accepted the job at The Garrison, noting the sign in the window as you aimlessly wandered the streets, mindlessly questioning your intentions. The sign in the window was almost a call from God and you hurried inside, being greeted by the bar man and a few raised eyebrows at the young girl with her life in a suitcase and hair all tangled. “Y’alright love? Look like you need a drink.” You shook your head. “A job is what I need. Still hiring?” You asked and he looked you over once. “When can you start?”

🪖So eleven months deep with a flat and a job you were quite happy in Birmingham. Your specialty straying away from being a barmaid and more towards being a hostess and front of house staff. You’d seat people and prepare the hotel lodgings upstairs, and arrange rooms and port for pesky business when it came down to it. And in the process you’d captured the attention of a certain blinder who believed he had no business interfering with the life of a young maiden just getting back on her feet, but you entertained him so who was he to be so austere and deny himself such pleasures?

🪖You were shutting shop on a Saturday night, footfall substantial and you’d finally managed to kick all drunkards out of the pub after much struggle and a bit of help from John Shelby, who’d tipped his hat and went on his merry way. You’d grabbed your coat of the hanger, hearing the door bell chime behind you “we’re closed” you announced, pivoting on your heel “I know.” That all familiar voice sounded and you peeked your head. “Alright, Tommy?” You ask, getting your bag and fastening your coat; preparing for a cold winter night in Birmingham.

🪖He stepped closer and you, in turn, stepped backwards until you were trapped against the bar. “This has gone on for long enough,” he says gruffly, staring deep into your eyes and studying your face. You’d raised your brows “what has, Tom?” He shook his head and chuckled slightly. “You and I; ‘m so sick of seeing you and not being able to have you for myself.” He tells you, right arm wrapping around your waist and head dipping slightly.

🪖Your hand came up to hold him where he was and he stopped, in question. “Not like this Tommy.” You say, looking away but he grasps your chin gently to pull you back to face him. “Not like this?” He hums “Thomas, I’ve never..” you lead off hoping he’d understand what you were implying. He thought for a moment before it clicked. “Never?” You shook your head “never.” His Adams Apple bobbed as he swallowed a lump in his throat “never.” He mumbled. “And how should I go about this the right way?” He asked, settling his hands on your hips and smiling slightly.

🪖“Dinner and a nice walk.” You say and he nods with a hum. “How’s tomorrow?” You shake your head “not leaving Harry to deal with your lot on a Sunday.” “When you next off?” He asks “Friday.” “Then we’ll go out on Friday.” You nod and smile, but point a judging finger at him. “No guns” he smiles “yes sweetheart, no guns.” “And no peaky business” he shakes his head “no business.” “No fighting either, at all” you warn and he chuckles “I promise” you lean your hand up to caress his face and he leans into your touch. “Take that bloody razor blade out of your cap too.” He raises a brow “how do you know about that?” “You underestimate the amount of times I’ve carried Arthur out of this bar and nearly sliced my hand on that thing.”

🪖“I want to see Thomas. No Shelby.” You say and he blinks. “Then Thomas you shall have.” “May I walk you home?” He asks and you smile up at him “you may” and he offers an arm to walk you to your house, looking forward to taking the last of your innocence the following Friday.

Alfie🧸

🧸Alfie recently started attending his local synagogue, at first yes: to reconnect with his faith, but now it was to see the young woman who attended every day, volunteering as your father was the rabbi. Albeit that sounding wrong, Alfie thought the rabbi was bordering on ancient and you were younger than him, but you were nearly twenty six so that wasn’t too bad.. right?

🧸“Ah Mr Solomons, back again I see” the rabbi commented, noted the recent inclination of Alfie’s presence at the house of God. “Well, been trying to reconnect.” He told his superior. “With God or with my daughter?” The rabbi asked and Alfie’s brows rose. “E-excuse me?” He choked on his words. The rabbi smirked with a slight twinkle in his eye “I’m not stupid” “no, of course you’re not-” “I’ve seen how you’ve been eyeing her.” Alfie quietened for a moment. “Well, y’see she’s a lovely young lady” “I agree, that’s how I raised her.” “And I’d like to ask her for dinner, with your blessing, f’course.” Alfie began to ramble but his elder cut him off.

🧸“Not with the business you’re in, Alfred.” And his mouth ran dry. “For her I’d get out of it, move to Morecambe, open a bakery, marry, have kids, y’know I’d raise them proper.” Rabbi Kaplan again hummed “but that sort of business isn’t the kind you can get out of, is it?” “You did, Abe.” Alfie corrects him and there’s a moment of contemplative silence. “You’re right I did. But no one hurts a rabbi.” “Then I’ll get ordained.” Alfie shrugged. Abraham looked at the man before him. “Gods punished me enough. He knows how much physical pain I’m in. And ‘m not gettin’ any younger. Neither’s she. ‘nd I never wanna be in this business anymore. Wanna settle down, dogs, kids, grandkids, the works.” Alfie says and Abe’s tongue protrudes from his lips to lick his dry lips as he thinks.

🧸“If I allow this, he’s watching.” The man looks up “I know.” “And if I allow this, she calls all the shots.” Alfie nods “wouldn’t have it any other way” “as in she says no, means no. She wants to go for a walk at two in the morning, you take her. She wants to come here, you bring her. She wants to get married, you wed her.” The man took two steps closer so him and Alfie were closer than any Rabbit should be with his child “she tells you to jump of the docks, you jump.” Alfie’s eyes don’t falter. “Done.” Abraham closes his eyes and runs a hand over his face “alright, you have my blessing.” Alfie nods, trying to suppress his glee, shaking the rabbi’s hand and walking towards the front of the synagogue where you were sat counting donations.

🧸“Excuse me missus” Alfie clears his throat and you look up at him, swallowing with a lump in his throat “yes?” “I was wondering if you’d like to go for an eat to bite, I mean a bite to eat, I mean-” you giggle at him “yes Alfie I’d love to go out with you.” Alfie sighed in relief and smiled down at you noting how the rabbi had wandered off elsewhere. You sealed and locked the cash box, storing it where I belonged and Alfie held his arm out for you to take “shall we?” You grin back at him “we shall”

🧸You’d been seeing Alfie for going on several months, and today he’d arranged for a restaurant to be shut down in order for the two of you to enjoy some peace and quiet together. You’d enjoyed a lovely romantic meal, accompanied by a bouquet of white tulips and a sneaky kiss to Alfie’s cheek, which he was grateful that they were covered by a large beard - disguising his beat-red features.

🧸Alfie was walking you back to his house, as you’d both previously agreed that you’d stay for the night and head towards Morecambe Bay the following day: to pick out a cottage on the seafront.

🧸You had some clothes at Alfie’s house, for events such as this where you’d decided to stay or go elsewhere the following day without needing to drop back home for anything. You were uncoiling your hair, and your gentle giant came around to hug you from behind, kissing up your neck until you giggled from being tickled, turning to kiss his lips.

🧸Your eyes surveyed one another’s for a moment, him leaning back down to kiss you in a more seriously insinuating manner - sciatica obviously not bothering him today as he managed to pick you up and lead you to his bed. “Alfie wait,” you say quickly and the man immediately stopped “what’s wrong treacle? If y’don’t want to we’ll stop here ‘nd-” “no it’s not that” your left hand fiddled with the rings on your right “what’s wrong flower?” He caressed your cheek gently. “Alfie I’ve never done anything before.” You say and his brows form a line in confusion. “Y’what?” “Alfie I’m a virgin.” You say and time almost stands still, Alfie nearly felt sick as he’d been handling you like a woman of the night and not a dignified young lady of whom was vastly inexperienced. “‘M sorry alf.” You say, looking down. Alfie grasps your chin and forces your eyes to connect with his “it’s me who should be apologising, sweetness. Your old man didn’t know. ‘V been handling y’ like ‘y know what you’re doin’.” He says gently. “And if y’ don’t want to, we don’t have to.” “No Alfie I want to.” And you could swear you could see the hearts forming in his irises, lenses constricting into something unnatural but simultaneously not animalistic. “I’ll take good care ‘f y’ love, just lay down for Alfie and let ‘im work his magic, yeah?” He says, laying you back gently on the bed, vowing to handle you like a porcelain doll in a box of feathers.

Arthur🍺

🍺You were several years younger than Arthur, he never felt like you were - he was as immature as any lad two decades his senior, but with you he never felt his age.

🍺The peaky blinders had been invited to a lavish banquet, black tie, chandeliers, live orchestra, the works. And Arthur never shied away from an opportunity to show his lover off, especially when that dress hugged you perfectly and your matching black gloves made you look so dainty and proper. He was proud to waltz into that event, feeling almost smug with ‘such a babe’ on his arm.

🍺The evening began wonderfully, three courses, all of which Arthur found laughable as he questioned the waiter why his entree was only a piece of rocket and slice of undercooked stake. Drinks were flowing and he was happy to get tipsy while to congregated with Polly and Ada, smitten to see you engaging so well with his family and them requiting his adoration for her.

🍺You’d stood at the bar, trying to gain the attention of the bartender to order yourself another rum and coke and your date an umpteenth pint. “Hiya can I just have a rum and coke and an apple juice?” You ask the man and he raises an eyebrow. “He’s so drunk I don’t think he’ll tell the difference.” He laughs and nods, heading off to get the top of shelf rum Arthur had requested he’d serve you earlier.

🍺“Gorgeous night, isn’t it?” A voice asked from beside you and you peer left, a young gentlemen with slicked back black hair asked as he knocked back the rest of the whiskey he’d been nursing for a while, requesting another as well as your drinks being on him. “Yes lovely.” You say shortly. “Well I was just thinking-” he begins smugly, before hissing and you look back at him quickly to see whatever is the matter. His finger was drawing blood as the new glass he’d been given was chipped on the end, in turn slicing the edge of his finger. “Oh dear, here let me help” you grabbed one of the inscribed handkerchiefs from the pile and applied pressure on his finger, only noticing your proximity when he chuckled. “What a first acquaintance” you laugh and agree. “You’re good at this” he hums “nurse in the war.” You say, not really wanting to reflect on the past.

🍺“May I buy you another drink for your troubles? Or possibly dinner?” He inquires with an up quirked lip. “No thank-” “I think she’s quite happy with the fella she’s got, son.” An angered voice quipped from behind you through gritted teeth, an arm snaking around your waist as the boy’s face ran pale. “Mr Shelby, sorry she didn’t say-” “she shouldn’t have too. Now fuck off before I kick the living daylights out of ya.” Arthur threatens and the previously smug man makes himself scarce.

🍺“Arthur,” “c’mon. We’re leaving.” He says, dragging you through the crowds of people and hailing a taxi, still gentlemanly opening the door for you but clambering in beside you, the smoke billowing from his ears fogging the windows. “Fucking little boy thinking he can talk to my fuckin’ woman, fuckin’ bastard” he reiteratively mumbled under his breath until he reached his house, roughly taking you from the car and throwing a wad of cash at the driver.

🍺As soon as you entered the house you were trapped against the closed door, his lips attacking yours unexpectedly as you struggled to keep up with his might. “I’ll show him who you fuckin’ belong to” “Arthur” “little boy makes up nothin’” “Arthur” “scream my name so the little bastard will fuckin’ hear me” “Arthur I’m a virgin” the man stopped immediately, expression stopping form angered to a more gentle one. “Y’what love?” He asks quietly, tight grip on your trapped wrists loosening “I’ve never had sex before Arth, sorry for not telling you.” You could see him visibly sobering up. “Oh my darlin’ m’sorry I didn’t know.”

🍺This was the only time you’d made Arthur feel his age, his lover a virgin. “I’ll take good care of you sweetheart, if y’let me.” “Show y’ what you’ve missed out on” he chuckles and you laugh, allowing him to pick you up to carry you up the stairs and into the bedroom.

John🥃

🥃Waking up this morning and getting married to a stranger wasn’t on your bingo card. But here you are. Kneeled at the alter beside a smirking young lad who was in a similar situation. “By the power invested in me, I now declare you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.” The stranger smiled and you and kissed your lips sweetly.

🥃The reception was just as hazy. Drinks were flowing and laughter was heard. Your father and Thomas Shelby seemed at peace for once and all was right with the world. When slow dancing, John had held you close and embraced you like you were young lovers wed, not total strangers at the chapel. He whispered sweet nothings into your ear and smiled as you giggled back at his remarks, fighting with icing on the cake and having an overly fun time with one another’s families after the initial shock from the morning. After all, he was incredibly charming and you couldn’t get out of a gypsy marriage that easily. Not in post-war Britain.

🥃You headed back to the Shelby Manor in a car strung with cans, attached by young children earlier in the day. You looked out the window to the vast house, feeling a hand tugging gently on your hair, the owner tucking it behind your ear as you looked at home. “Glad we’re married cause I could never pull you if I tried, gorgeous.” He comments and you laugh. “You’re joking. One drink and I’d be a gonner.” “At least we got to skip the funny business” he took your chin between your forefinger and chin “cause your all mine now, darling”

🥃He’d hurried you to your room quicker than anticipated, giggling like school children up to no good. He’d kissed you tenderly once inside, behind closed doors and away from the interference of all other prying eyes.

🥃He spun you gently, hands dropping to focus on the details of the backing of your dress; unthreading and untying the intricate lacings applied to keep the gown tight to your person. The dress fell and pooled at your ankles, him attacking the now bare skin with open-mouthed kisses and gentle pecks to the untouched skin.

🥃Coming to your front, he cornered you backwards in small steps until your legs hit the bed and you fell backwards onto it - him on top of you, kissing down your bodice animalisticly. “John?” He stopped and looked up with a hypnotic gaze in his eye “yes love?” “I’ve never had sex before.” You say shakily and he stops all movement. He falters for a moment, before climbing slightly higher in order to be face to face with you “never? You’re a virgin?” You nod back and he swallows the heavy lump in his throat as his briefs tighten.

🥃“Well then what an opportunity to consummate the marriage, aye darling?” He smirks “if you’ll let me that is” you smile and offer a kiss to his lips, him getting the green flag and go ahead to give you the absolute night of your life.

Bonnie🥊

🥊Bonnie was an old fashioned lad. From a young age he drempt of the stereotypical traveller lifestyle - never a singular home, him the homemaker, wife on his arm and umpteen kids running wild. It sounded like heaven. And from the moment he’d set eyes on you Bonnie had decided that that was your role - destined to be by his side. You weren’t a gypsy yourself, but he was certain he could sway you but either way he was happy to compromise as long as he had you.

🥊Tonight was one of, if not the, biggest night of his life thus far. The largest and most important fight he’d ever partake in, not only against the reigning champion which would secure his fate of being the new ruler, but also performing in front of the Peaky Blinders - prove himself to the trust Tommy Shelby had bestowed upon him. And most significantly, you were watching.

🥊He was stood in his changing room, allowing you to gently wrap his hands while his father gave him a pep talk. “Five minutes son.” His dad said, patting his back and nodding at you as he left to give you a minute alone before his spotlight moment. You finished wrapping the cloth around his palms and took his face into your hands, forcing him to look at you. “How we feeling champ?” You ask, trying to wake him up from his dystopian trance. “‘m scared m’love.” He mumbled as you frowned slightly. “Why’re you scared? Talk to me Bon, get it all out. You scared about the Shelby family? I’ll kick ‘em out-" “scared ‘m gonna disappoint you.” He says and you falter.

🥊“Bon you could never disappoint me, why would you think that?” He sighed, looking away before beginning to admit his desires. “Just wanna make you proud. I want to marry you and give you my children and travel as a family. But if I lose you won’t want to do that.” He grumbles. You chuckle slightly. “You’re such a dafty, Bon.” You say and his eyebrows crease. You lean into kiss him as he happily requites the gesture. “Bonnie of course I want to be with you either way. I don’t care if you loose, hell I don’t care if you don’t want to fight and walk out, I’ll walk right out with you.” You say.

🥊“I never knew you felt like that but I’d love to marry you Bon and have your children and I’d be willing to travel with you. I just need you to stop fretting and go win this. I love ya Bonnie.” You say, leaning your forehead against his. “You mean it?” He asks, giddily. You nod “I do”

🥊“God if I win this we’re gonna get started on those kids.” He says, getting riled up as the minutes tick down. You laugh at him “anything you want, Bonnie. Always wanted my first time to be with you.” You say and time stops. His father knocks on the door to hail his son out to the ring.

🥊“BONNIE!” “You’re a virgin?” “Yes” “BONNIE COME ON!” “And you want me to take your virginity?” “Yes Bonnie I trust you. Now go.” He hurries out of the door reluctantly, all riled up and heading for the ring.

🥊The knockout was inevitable, his opponent out cold in a matter of rounds, blood flowing freely from Bonnie’s nose as he celebrated by raising his hands victoriously above his head, father and Blinders crowding him to pat him on the back and exchange congratulations. But none of that mattered. It was just faint ringing in the background. All he could see was you stood a fair way back from the celebrating men climbing over the limb body on the ground no one had seemed to care too. He looked upon your innocent doe eyes and soft smile staring back at him as he blew you a kiss; and never has he been so desperate to get away from his own party.

🥊And after a good few hours and countless attempts to get you all to himself, you were back in Bonnie’s humble beginning: laid on your back as your boy thrust into you gently, trying not to hurt you while simultaneously trying to adhere to his desperation for you. “Faster Bon, please.” “Wanna give me a child? Is that it?” He asks and you nod meekly, as he quickens his pace desperate to bed his maiden in his own place called home.

Isaiah♟️

♟️Isaiah had been trying to get to you for many many years. Countless attempts proving fruitless from not only your rejections, but also your elder brother’s: Finn’s. Any time Isaiah had any suggestion on courting you he was shot down by his friend, who’d smack the back of his head and scold him for thinking such things. “I’ll cut your dick off and shove it in your ear if you keep thinking about my sister with it” he’d tell him.

♟️But tonight, oh tonight. Darling you looked ravishing. The Blinders were celebrating a grand festivity at Shelby Manor, someone was getting married.. or someone was dead, Isiah needn’t have cared less. Because when you cascaded the stairs, Mary Jane’s on foot and tight black dress clung to your bodice, Isaiah had to physically refrain himself from grabbing you from the get go.

♟️Sure, he’d mingled with others and drank freely with the brothers; but not once did he stray his eyes away from your figure, never letting you out of his sight. Not when you looked so delicious and drinkable, mouth running so dry he’d have to reiteratively lubricate it with whiskey. A bit of the good ole’ ‘Dutch-Courage’, aye?

♟️Finally noticing an opportunity when you brother wasn’t lingering over your shoulder, scolding you for wearing such a gown, Isaiah made his move. He slivered to the bar beside you, where Harry was offered a well-paying job serving for the evening and told him to get you another of whatever it is that you were drinking. “Your brother lets you wear a dress like this?” He questions, knocking back the rest of his whiskey and hailing for another.

♟️“No. But I am not Finn and he is nor I” you tell him, nursing the edge of your glass with your finger absentmindedly trailing it. He leant closer. “Tell you, if you were my woman that dress would be on the floor of my room right about now.” He promised and you shivered at the thought. “But I’m not your woman, am I Isaiah?” You rhetorically ask, sipping and please to feel the alcohol running down your throat.

♟️“Oh god if you were.” He said, trailing off. “I’d have you married, knocked up, never not pregnant. Have your last name Jesus. My dad would do the ceremony, y’know. Get you a nice little bouquet and pretty white dress I get to ravish you in afterwards.” He said “well you’ve got it all planned out, huh Mr Jesus?” You snort but you are backed against the bar, two hands either side of your waist as your belittled by the taller between you.

♟️“Believe me I’ve dreamt of the day since I first saw you, just your fucking brother wouldn’t let me.” You eye his lustful expression. “As I said, Isaiah. I am not my brother, nor is he I.” You repeat slowly, relaying that your older sibling(s) had no say in what was going on at that moment. “You’re playing with fire, little girl” he warned “then let me get burned” you say, batting your eyelashes doe-like and innocently, as you dared him to make the move your core had been dying for for decades.

♟️His nostrils flare as you wrap his tie around your hand and yank at it harshly, bringing an ear close to your lips to offer a promise never before foretold. “Isaiah I’m a virgin” you whisper, before releasing his tie and straightening his suit. He follows the lump in his throat before surveying the room once and looking down at you, grabbing your hand to drag you through the crowds of people and into the safe proximities of his bedroom for newly discovered events.

♟️The evening died down and the chatter faltered, as Thomas Shelby announced a new betrothal in the family. However he was unable to promise the two, because the bride and groom were missing.

Michael🎱

🎱Oh god I’ve been waiting for this one. Michael absolutely eats that shit up.

🎱You and Michael were first acquainted when himself, Thomas and John travelled to the Cotswolds in order to engage in some legal business with the Wentworth family - Tommy spoke business with the ceo of the family, while John entertained the mother and Michael; the daughter.

🎱Michael was an old fashioned man with old fashioned views. He liked his women obedient and untouched and willing to listen to his every word - just like they were supposed too.

🎱They were welcomed into the home by several butlers, two to open the grand doors - three to take their caps and the others to lead the family to their guests. “Thomas Shelby.” They heard, and a dignified gentleman descended the stairs, an unnecessary cain in one hand, the other wrapped around his wife as they descended the central staircase to the visitors, a young lady trailing behind.

🎱“Archibald Wentworth.” Thomas smiled at the man and nodded out of respect. The man walked up to him and shook each of their hands firmly. “How longs it been old chap?” He asked Thomas. “Too long, old friend.” Thomas replied, and they engaged in friendly conversation as neither had seen each other since their fathers dealt with similar business in their own youth. The elder woman approached John who kissed the back of her hand and she curtsied, him remaining respectful as their shared introductions. You however, approached Michael who looked back at you fondly. You curtsied to him and he bowed slightly. “It’s a pleasure Mr Gray.” You say, voice soft and unbroken. He took your hand and kissed the back of it gently. “All mine, Miss Wentworth.”

🎱“And please, do call me Michael.” He told you, smiling gently. “Well in that case you’re compelled to call me Yn.” Michael studied your face; never in his twenty one years of existence had he seen such beauty before. Your skin was fair and undamaged - soft to the touch. Your nails were clean and manicured with a neutral colour. Your hair was cascading down by your ears, as if instructed to sit perfectly, framing your face. You eyes were innocent yet appeared all-knowing - your mouth formed into a graceful smile. And you carried yourself with such proper dignity; it was admirable.

🎱“Yn my darling?” Your father spoke from beside him and you turned to face him on command - trained to do this. “Yes father?” “Please will you accompany Mister Gray into the living area? I’m sure you’ll both be quite comfortable in there.” You nodded once at the man. “Certainly, father.” “It was a pleasure to meet you gentleman, and see you again Mister Shelby.” You say to the other two, before leading Michael into the living area - which was nothing short of double the size of his childhood home.

🎱“May i offer you some tea?” You ask, as you settle in the room. “That’d be lovely, thank you.” You nod as the maid by the for stepped out to grab tea. “Normally I’d make it myself, however it is improper to leave your company unaccompanied.” You joke and he laughs in response. Soon, the tea arrived and you served it for Michael, who took the cup and saucer thoughtfully and nodded in thanks.

🎱“It’s a lovely home you have.” You smile up at him. “Thank you, I’m sure my father works tirelessly to afford it.” “You’ve no job?” He asked, awaiting the words that he was utterly and totally in love with you. “No, I’m trained in etiquette - to be polite, to cook and to clean.” Michael listened to you thoughtfully. “So you’re kept awfully busy then?” You nod. “Busy however I don’t mind it, I get to live in this glorious building with a loving family and life skills. What more could a girl want?” You confirm and he was sure his eyes were forming hearts.

🎱“And I’m sure you have quite the line of suitors with your beauty.” You giggled but tried to compose yourself. “No sir.” His eyes widened in mock surprise. “Surely you’re already married, how has a man not captivated a lady such as yourself. I’d do it myself if it wasn’t for the line of men ahead of me.” You looked down, blushing, before looking back up at Michael. “There is no line and there are no suitors. It is simply me, myself and I.” You tell him.

🎱“And you Michael? Have you a wife?” You asked, batting your eyelids. “No, in your words it is simply… ‘me, myself and I’.” “And what business do you do yourself, Mr Gray?” You ask. “That is not the sort of information for a lady’s ears. It is not good business.” He almost scolds and you nod. “Oh I understand, my father is not too dissimilar. Staying safe in your business, I hope?” He basked in the way you simply understood, didn’t pry. “Not quite.” He said, raising an eyebrow. He rolled up his left sleeve slightly and you gasped. “Oh you poor man,” you say. “You must treat these with oil, that way they shall heal better.” You scold, touching his skin gently. “Well if you were my wife you could sort it out for me.” “Oh certainly Michael, I wouldn’t allow you to come home damaged as such without properly patching you up.” You say, seriousness written all over your facial features.

🎱“And what do you do with the rest of your time, this afternoon per se?” He ponders, sipping his tea. “Well as you said yourself I’m quite a busy person regardless of what I occupy my time with.” You peer down at the dainty wristwatch wrapped around your wrist, Michael estimated the small device at a hefty sum. “At two o’clock I have etiquette lessons.” You say “and at three?” “At three I read in my library” “how about four?” “At four I have a date.” His face dropped. “A date? With who?” “William Wordsworth.” You giggled at his expression which sighed a breath of relief. “Oh I see, she lives the poems she could not write.” He says, quoting the famed poet. “More like she writes the poems she could not live.” You reply, and Michael notices a longing stare as you probably imagine the life you would have, if not the heir to an infamous delegate.

🎱“And no man has yet compared me to a summers day.” You admit. “You have not yet met your Shakespeare.” You smile, enjoying how he understood your references. “Nor my Victor Hugo” “ah but you have not yet died so nobody may quote ‘Demain, dès l’aube’.” He spoke matter-of-factly. “For I am always the poet, never the poem.” You speak; in words of your own. And Michael cannot stop himself from reaching up with his free hand to caress the soft skin of your cheek gently. “It is impossible. How can a man write anything short of a novel about a maiden so fair?” He question, and you find yourself absentmindedly leaning into his light touch.

🎱“You’re a charmer, Mr Gray” you speak, voice barely above whisper “I’m no charmer, just a man who knows what he wants” he leans to whisper in your ear “is it working?” He meets your eyes with a cheeky grin on his face. “Certainly.” You both finished your tea and the trolley was taken away, miscellaneous chatter arising from each of your lips.

🎱“Madam?” A voice squeaked from the door behind you both. You spun on a pivot to look at the young maid by the entrance. “Yes Beth?” “Mister Wentworth has requested you and Mister Gray return to the foyer” she said, avoiding your stare. “Thank you Beth, we shall be there shortly.” The woman nodded before clicking the door shut behind you to allow you to make your own way there along with the company. Michael’s face contorted: annoyed, but relaxed it when you faced back to him.

🎱“I believe it is time for us to depart.” You tell him. “When may I see you again?” He asks, holding your hands in his own. “Whenever you wish, Mister Gray; should my father allow.” You tell him, before slowly leading him back to where you originally met. There, the rest of the men along with your parents stood as you’d left them - engaged in unwavering chatter. “Ah, Mister Gray - treated well I hope?” Your father asks and Michael nods at the man. “Certainly.”

🎱After some goodbyes and a hug for your father’s old friend Thomas, Michael smirked at you and kissed the back of your hand and whispered promises that you shall meet again.

🎱The men walked back to the car in silence, Thomas lighting a cigarette once inside. “How’d you like her?” He asked, eyeing Michael before nicotine smoke billowed from his lips. “She’s a lovely young lady.” Michael tore his eyes away from his cousin and back to the house, hoping to catch a glimpse of you as you drove away; but to no avail.

🎱“She’s a gentle lass. Innocent and proper.” Thomas continued and Michael squinted at him, wondering what the man was getting at. “Doesn’t need corrupting.” “I know that Tommy, what you on about?” “We’ve come to a business agreement with Archibald Wentworth. They in exchange for protection and a good deal of Shelby business, his daughter would marry a gentleman.” Thomas stubbed the last bud out on the leather of the car. “I trust you can fit that role?”

🎱Before either of you really knew it the two were being wed on the great estate of the Wentworth Mansion, both smiling at each other at the end of the aisle like giddy school children with a secret. Within the hour you were husband and wife and Michael had the life and wife he had so hoped and dreamed for.

🎱The reception was a glamorous event; dancing and drinking and the celebration of you being safe, and the Shelby name moving up in the social hierarchy of local reputation. Yourself and Michael had snuck off for a moment alone with one another, to discuss the whirlwind of a day and plans moving forwards together. “May I say my darling you look absolutely divine.” He comments, taking your hand to make you do a full 360 turn to display your attire to him. He swore the dress was adorned entirely in Tiffany crystals. “Thank you, you are too kind.” He tuts “I can never be too kind to my wife.” He smiles.

🎱“And may I be so reckless to say I cannot wait to get this dress of you either” he smirked and you raised your brows as your cheeks reddened. “If that is no problem of course, my lady?” He confirms and you nod. “I apologise for my experience, for I have never before been with a man.” You admit, bashfully and his mouth ran dry. “Never?” You shook your head in confirmation. “Never, Michael.” You say and he gleefully picks you up to spin you around as you laugh at his response. “Well my darling, I hope you know I am prepared to take more than good care of you this evening. And of course continue the family name.”

Finn🎞️

🎞️You were the first girl Finn really cared about. Sure, he’d been on dates and hired whores to satisfy his desires. But he’d never really given much thought into actually taking his time with a girl. Until he saw you working at the bookshop two streets in the wrong direction from the Garrison.

🎞️Him, Isaiah and Bonnie were basically being little shits on the streets of Birmingham when he’d saw you organising shelves through the window, brow furrowed and tongue slightly protruding from your lips as you struggled to place an old hardback on the top shelf. The other two lads had carried on walking whereas Finn had stopped, the other two halting a few ways down to road to figure out where their third had gone, turning to see him awestruck at the bookshop window.

🎞️They hurried back, laughing at the boy who was notably illiterate. Finn could not read, nor write but was staring into the bookshop. “What y’ doing Finn? No picture books in there!” Isaiah joked, straining to see what Finn was so intently staring at. “Ah the girl” Bonnie elbowed him. “She won’t want you mate.” Isaiah informed him “she’s got Shakespeare and Wordsworth. You don’t even know who I’m on about.” And Isaiah was right. You did look dignified and well read because you were. And he was just Finn.

🎞️But he found himself two street in the wrong direction every day nearly, at least when he could find time to slip away. And Isaiah and Bonnie were sick of their lovesick friend ditching them to stare at a stranger awkwardly through a window. Then one day, when the three were repeating their galavant from the first time they saw you, Isaiah shoved him in the door.

🎞️The bell chimed and you turned from your stepladder “just a minute!” You climbed down and approached the disheveled boy at the door. “Can I help you?” You ask “book” he says and you crease your brows “…book?” Isaiah chimed in behind him “he wants to buy a book” he confirms as he smacks Finn around the back of the head. “Any book in particular?” “My first alphabet!” Bonnie exclaims, and the two boys begin cackling loudly and Finn grits his teeth and pushes the two out of the door.

🎞️“Eh what do you recommend?” He asked, scratching the back of his head and his eyes wander on all the paved backs of untouched literature. “What do you like? Fiction? Non-fiction?” Finn looks at you gone out. You look around for a simple poetry book you know is easy to understand “here, try this it’s one of my favourites” Finn nods and turns the book over in his hands and has a quick flick through. “How much do I owe you?” He asks, pushing his hand into his pocket. You shake your head “just come back and exchange it once you’re done.” Finn nods. He could do that. He thanks you and begrudgingly heads out the door to his friends who were still hounding him for the situation and he just smiles at you through the window.

🎞️Finn was getting ribbed week in and week out by both his friends and older brothers, Arthur drunkenly questioning in front of everyone why he hadn’t hired any whores recently and why books were appearing by his bed when he couldn’t read. The family laughed as his face reddened, Isaiah explaining that the lovely young lady down the bookshop had his interest peaked.

🎞️“Y’got her in bed yet?” John asked with a smirk and the younger boy elbowed him sharply. “No.” He mumbled. “No? Ol’ ‘just want a shag’ here hasn’t gotten a lady in bed?” His brother joked. “No she’s not the kind of lass I want to put off.” “Ah” Tommy ruffled his hair. “She’s the real deal then?” He smiled while lighting up another cigarette. Finn thought for a moment before nodding. Yeah, you were the real deal.

🎞️“Date” Finn said as he crashed through the door of your bookshop. You raised a brow at him. “Date with me, please.” He says, panting. “Finn are you alright?” You ask, placing a hand on his back. Me nods, heaving and placing his hands on his knees. He’d just ran here from being with his family. “Do you want to go on a date with me?” He asked when he’d finally gotten his wind back. You smiled and nodded. “Yes I would Finn, when?” “Now.” You raise your brows. “Right now?” “Yeah. If you’d like.” You look down at the dainty wristwatch you were wearing and decided it was wishful thinking if you thought that you were going to get any more footfall in the next hour before you closed. You hummed and nodded. “Sure, let’s go.”

🎞️Finn took you to one of the nicest restaurants in Birmingham in walking distance, waiter seating you quickly after he noticed who Finn was, handing the two of you two open menus. You looked over the options, but was soon distracted by Finn’s conflicted face. “You alright, Finn?” He nods. “What’s up?” He ponders for a minute before mumbling something. “Sorry?” “I can’t read and this has no pictures.” He admits sheepishly, averting his eyes from yours.

🎞️��You can’t read?” You ask, mulling over the past several weeks where you’d be too-ing and fro-ing with Finn with your book recommendations. “But you’ve been borrowing books for months-” “just to see you.” He says, looking down as a smile began to grew on your lips. “I understand if you want to leave. You’re smart and pretty and I’m just an illiterate gangsta.” He says, mentally readying himself for your leave. You placed your hand on top of his where it was laid on the table. “Finn that’s so sweet.” His brows shot up. “You did that for me?” You ask, biting your lips as he affirms your question. You place a chaste kiss to his cheek as you realise just how much the blinder truly cared about you.

🎞️“Let’s get out of here.” You say, breaking the silence. “Seriously?” He asks, moving closer for a more private conversation. “I’m serious. Let’s go.” You say, “really? We don’t have too if you don’t want too-” “Finn Shelby. Let’s go.” And you didn’t have to tell him again, running back home like two giddy school children, hiding away in his room for the rest of the evening, ended by you laying on his bare chest while he drew shapes into your relaxed shoulder.

🎞️“That was better than I expected for my first time.” You admit, staring at the ceiling. It takes a few minutes for Finn to clock onto what you’d just said. He looks down at you, movement of his thumb faltering. “You were a virgin?” He asks, lump in his throat growing as he forced himself to swallow it. “Yeah.” He smirks.

🎞️“Nice.”

671 notes · View notes