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makenoplans · 8 months

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all gale banter! (that i am currently aware of)

hiii gale enthusiasts, i just spent the past few hours picking through videos trying to find all of gales party banter and transcribing it! check under the cut for verbose details

copied directly from the doc i transcribed this into so youll have to bear with the initials to denote who is speaking when! generally speaking, initials are a=astarion, g=gale, h=halsin, j=jaheira, k=karlach, l=lae'zel, m=minthara, s=shadowheart, and w=wyll

(except for two minsc quotes that are also m, both where he mentions his name so like... it's obvious)

transcribed with attention paid to particular noises characters make that aren't quite whole words and also words that are emphasized!

please let me know if youre aware of any banter ive missed!

warning: long

G: Karlach! A hypothetical question for you. If someone - not me, of course - detected a hint of romantic interest in them from another… unnamed individual, erm, what might that someone… do about it?

K: Whoever it is, just talk to them, Gale! And leave out the hypotheticals.

G: Talking. Right! I'm good at that!

A: So, Gale, how is your sad, hopeless pining going?

G: [Ach!] I'm hardly pining! Been a year or more since Mystra cast me aside!

A: Oh, my dear wizard, I wasn't talking about Mystra.

W: I used to believe the beauty of first love was unable to be surpassed, but Gale, you are so much more tolerable now that you've found your second.

G: I'll take that comment with the sincerity and good will I assume it was intended.

G: Have you noticed any attachments of the more, er, romantic variety flourishing in our camp, Wyll?

W: I think I'm not the right person to be asking. I can recognize a troll silhouette on a far horizon, but I wouldn't know a flirtation if you whacked me alongside the head with it.

G: I see you waste no time pursuing your quarry, Astarion.

A: Hmph! I rather thought I was a little slow this time. Usually they're begging me to dream them on the first night.

G: Tell me - you always woo your lovers with such patient attention?

A: As the vampire ascendant I can grant my lover immortality and bind them to me forever.

G: Hmm. I trust you speak of the bonds of love, not the shackles of servitude.

G: Am I to understand that you are in love now, Karlach?

K: I sure am. [heh] If there's hope for me, there's hope for anyone.

G: I'm surprised you're permitted to choose a partner outside of your own people.

L: We had to use and misuse each civilization in the stars in every way we know. I do not conquer by blade alone, Gale.

G: I can't imagine Mother Gith would approve. Doesn't she prefer us lesser species enslaved? Or eviscerated?

M: You've been smiling like a fool of late, wizard. Explain yourself.

G: I found love. Surely even you wouldn't begrudge me some happiness?

M: All I can say on the matter is that you were wise to lower your standards from the godly to the ghastly.

G: Tell me, Lae'zel: is it common for githyanki to fall in love?

L: Love? Is that this feeling in me, then? This passion to peel every layer of one's heart to see what light and shadows lurk there? I doubt I am the first githyanki to… to feel this way, but few would ever declare it. Githyanki have playmates, thrill partners but I've never heard anyone profess love, nor read of it in our slates.

L: Gale, I've heard you talking in your sleep. Your mate needs better rest for our journey.

G: And deprive them of the pleasure of hearing my nocturnal postulations? I'd never be so cruel. The mind absorbs much while we believe ourselves dormant. To lie beside Gale of Waterdeep is positively educational.

G: If you're feeling faint after your bout with Cazador, Astarion, I don't mind donating some blood.

A: Aha! Well, you're still full of that Netherese bile, I'll pass, thank you! Besides, I have someone else to nibble on, and they are delicious.

G: I'm glad to know you have a softer side, Minthara. I was beginning to think you rather… heartless.

M: Loving another is not soft, wizard. It is one of the hardest things a person can do.

G: So you admit you found love! Aww. How delightful. I'm happy for you both.

A: So, how was your night with Gale? Did you have a long, hard debate?

G: Ugh. Ignore him. Astarion envies the depth of a bond because he's of a shallower inclination.

G: So Astarion, I hear your relationship has taken on a new aspect recently.

A: My life has taken on "a new aspect." It's only natural that my relationships change as well.

G: Halsin! You must have accumulated considerable wisdom on matters of the heart in your long life. Anything you'd like to pass on to a… strapping, lovestruck wizard such as myself?

H: [hehehe] Dispensing advice on matters of the heart would be like swapping boots. What suits me may be a… poor fit for you.

G: Ah. Well. There's no faulting that logic. At least you didn't tell me to "be myself."

H: Oh no, perish the thought. That can be outright cruel advice to offer in certain cases.

G: Indulge me, Lae'zel, as someone unfettered by Faerunian beauty standards: how would you appraise my appearance?

L: Your beard looks like the hairy tufts upon the [surlon], the largest of wyrmkind that sliver our skies.

G: Hm. I suppose that's… a bad thing? No. Don't answer that.

G: Wild-shaping must sprinkle some spice on your love life, Halsin.

H: Heh. Indeed it does. Did you… never experience such delights with Mystra? I, uh, hear the gods enjoy taking on the forms of swans, horses, eagles and the like when… visiting with mortals?

G: Oh no, quite the opposite, actually! She mostly preferred our interactions to be abstract, and incorporeal. Most invigorating.

G: So, Lae'zel, have you ever been tempted to use psionics in your, uh, romantic endeavors?

L: Only once. Did you know, in low-gravity settings, githyanki can maintain aerial suspension for hours at a time?

G: Fascinating! I think the arch-mage Tasha described a spell with similar affect! I really must look that up.

G: I've always felt flames to be a rather perfect expression of love, Karlach. Passionate! Primal! Capable of bestowing the most life-affirming comfort - or - inflicting the profoundest damage.

L: That's… pretty nice. Never thought about it like that. But… now I will.

G: I've been pondering something, Lae'zel. Why is it that githyanki have bellybuttons, hm? When they hatch from eggs?

L: I did not grant you permission to gaze upon my midriff.

G: I- I wasn't gazing! Merely observing! Though that can hardly be said for a certain someone else.

G: Y'know, Karlach, there are other ways to express love beyond run-of-the-mill physicality.

K: Ugh! Are you going to try and teach me about exceptional uses for a mage hand or what?

G: W-well actually, I was thinking of poetry!

K: Oops. Sorry. But, uh, now that I think of it… is mage hand especially hard to learn?

G: Even shaped by shadow as it is, Sharran architecture has a kind of beauty to it.

K: Beautifully intimidating. This place was meant to scare people into submission.

G: There you go. Cutting right through the ephemera to the heart of the matter. Hm! Your finest quality, I think.

K: Uh. Here I thought I rubbed you the wrong way.

G: Nothing wrong with a bit of friction now and then. You help me keep my mind sharp.

K: Aw, thanks, pal! I think.

G: When we met, Shadowheart, your gaze seemed to linger in the distance on some unseen goal, some insubstantial purpose. But I notice now your gaze settles on something or someone much closer.

S: Is it that obvious?

G: Of course! There's nothing escapes a wizard's powers of observation.

A: I gave my return to Baldur's Gate a lot of thought. I never pictured this, though.

G: Ah, what did you have in mind? A quiet party? Toasting your own return with a few good friends?

A: Less "quiet party with friends", more "days of hedonistic debauchery", but otherwise… yes!

G: Hmm. Sounds like a recipe for disaster. But you know what? I'm learning to enjoy the taste of chaos. Count me in.

G: I've heard that in Baldur's Gate, "wizard" is also a term used for one who eschews their more, [hr-hrm] carnal desires. Is that true, Wyll?

W: Where are we going with this, Gale?

G: Oh, nowhere. Just think it's a rather cruel misnomer, not at all reflective of the glamor wizarding life affords.

A: So Gale, you laid with a goddess? You must have some sordid tales to tell.

G: Sordid? I lay with the Mother of Magic herself! What we had was… transcendent. Euphoric. Incandescent. Not sordid!

A: You actually made sleeping with a goddess sound boring. Hm. Incredible.

A: I am enjoying our walks together, aren't you, Gale?

G: Uhh… sure! In silence.

G: When you've loved a goddess as I have, people often think you less experienced in the way of romance.

S: She just lives on another plane! [heh] Only jesting. I'm in no position to judge, especially after what happened with Shar.

G: It's true for a time, I neglected the physical in favor of celestial euphoria. But our relationship was no less real for it.

G: I feel I've been rather hasty to judge you, Astarion. One heartbreak was quite enough for me, but to experience it as many times as you have… must change a person.

A: Thank you, Gale, but let us both hope that broken hearts are a thing of the past.

A: So, do you have loves waiting for you once this is all over?

G: You know what, that is not the easiest of questions for me to answer.

S: You mean just… waiting? Like a lovesick puppy?

M: Do you have elder siblings, wizard?

G: You're about to say something awful, aren't you?

M: In Menzoberranzan, after a house has two sons, every subsequent male-born child is slaughtered at birth, as it is useless, even for breeding. You have the aura of a third child about you.

G: The architect who built this must have been remarkable. Pity their vision didn't stand the test of time.

K: All's not lost. I mean, just look at this place!

G: You've quite the knack for finding the bright side of things, haven't you?

K: Hope keeps you going.

K: So Gale, got any book recommendations for me?

G: You can read?

K: Hmph. Yes, very funny. I can read. School put me off big, boring tomes. Sometimes I wonder what I'm missing.

G: Ah! Say no more. I'll find the perfect book for you. I might even lend it to you from my library in Waterdeep, ooh.

K: Ooh, something with magic please! And no devils!

G: Do you feel that? The darkness, pulling at the strands of the Weave?

K: Er, you'll still be able to do your wizard thing though, right?

G: Of course. Doesn't make the shadows less dangerous.

K: Joy.

M: Gale. Minsc worries you might send a fireball up his butt with all of this… stringy hair in your face.

G: Is that why you keep your head shaved? I assumed it was a custom of some sort.

M: Oh, no. Most warriors of [Rashinan] wear long battle braids weighed down with stone. Minsc can show you, when next we camp.

G: Thank you, but I'm more wizard than warrior. Not sure my scalp would stand up to such a plaiting.

A: Gods! We're not back, are we?

G: On the Nautiloid, no. This is a different nursery. Similar, but not identical. There's likely one in every colony.

A: I don't care what's in every mind flayer colony, Gale. Nobody does. Except you.

A: Ugh, another ruined temple full of foul-smelling beasts spoiling for a fight.

G: No mere temple. This was a monastery, devoted as much to study as to worship.

A: Oh, how ignorant of me. So it'll be free of foul-smelling beasts then?

G: Quite the opposite. Some monastic orders celebrated their pungency as proof of their devotion. "To think is to stink" was the motto of one ill-fated brotherhood near Arm. Oh! Huh, but you meant beasts of the life-threatening variety. Yes I'm sure it's teeming with those.

A: Moonlanterns to keep the curse back? Burly guards to fight off any monsters? I could get used to this place.

G: Don't get too comfortable. We shouldn't overstay our welcome in such a place.

A: No, of course! Why stay somewhere safe and comfortable when we could be in mortal peril?

H: Ah, Last Light Inn. Half aglow and lanterns lit. Just like a hundred years ago.

G: I imagine the vista was more idyllic back then. As were its patrons' chances of surviving the walk home.

H: [Grunt.] Still though, when you are expecting nothing but desolation, even a small glimmer of hope fills the heart. To think long ago, the druids feared this market down would grow into a city and threaten nature's realm… little did we realize what the true threat was.

G: Divination is a skill few can master. The rest of us must simply muddle along, content to view the past with a clarity the future rarely offers.

H: Perhaps I can yet turn hindsight into foresight, provided the curse is lifted. The better way for all. Whole generations were denied their chance to flourish… I must put this right, for them.

A: That orb seems powerful. What could it do once it's extracted?

G: Nothing good can come of it unless it is contained. Why.

A: It might be useful. Who knows?

G: I must tell you, Shadowheart, the bathing waters here leave much to be desired. The ablutions offered at the Temple of Beauty in Waterdeep were far superior - and, they have the most excellent soaps.

S: Hmm. I was wondering why you always smelled like a wealthy dowager.

A: From sweet woodland to stinking swamp. Can you do tricks like that, Gale?

G: Easiest thing in the world. Though I'd do it the other way around.

H: Brickwork and stonework. This place is far out of balance with nature, but the Oak Father will reclaim this all eventually.

G: Not too soon, I hope! I've a craving for a soft bed, a hot bath, and a large glass of Arabellan Dry. None of which I've ever found hidden under a log.

H: Hah, you may thrive, but what of other life? A city is no place for wild creatures.

G: Cities teem with life! Rats, pigeons, flies… they count no less, for all their more pestilent qualities.

G: The Society of brilliance has quite the reputation. Even Waterdhavian academics refer to their works from time to time.

S: They talk a great deal but do very little. Which may be for the best.

G: I take it you're not inclined to study the wonders of the Underdark?

S: Its inhabitants and cultures, maybe. Its fungi and cave slime, no thank you.

W: Ethel mentioned Netherese magic. What in blazes does that mean?

G: Magic from the fallen empire of Netheril. Ancient. Exceedingly dangerous. And quite unrivalled.

A: Wonderful. I'd hate to be destroyed by any common old magic.

G: Home and hearth, reduced to ruins. The shadow curse stole more than the light from this place.

H: That is why it must be stopped. Imagine a whole century of life and love denied the chance to ever take place.

G: A hidden shrine dedicated to the Moonmaiden herself. Even amidst this darkness, Selunites are stubborn enough to cling on.

K: Pretty beautiful, isn't it?

G: Look around you! Indulge your curiosity! Sorcerous Sundries is the finest purveyor of magical miscellany for miles around.

K: Where's the axes?

G: What they sell is far more precious than mere sword or shield! They sell knowledge! Ingenuity! The wisdom of mages past.

K: [yawns] Ugh, sounds like more your thing than mine.

K: Doing alright, Gale?

G: Oh, you know. Still alive and kicking despite being surrounded on all sides by an endless manifestation of… darkness and decay.

K: I feel it too. Here if you need a pick-me-up.

G: It strikes me that, for a mind flayer colony, there are remarkably few mind flayers about the place.

K: Squiddies have gone to war, is my guess.

G: On the Absolute's behalf? Now there's an alliance I'd've been quite happy without.

K: Aw, man, adventuring is thirsty work.

G: There used to be a monastery in this region known for producing a wonderful ale.

K: Ah, that sounds like heaven. Wait. Used to?

G: Oh yes, long ruined, I'm afraid. No chance of a frothing pitcher awaiting us there, but still. At least your thirst for knowledge is quenced!

K: Ugh!

W: It might seem a bit ramshackle, but this place is a boastworthy bar.

G: A bar is only as good as its cellars. Which vintages can we expect on its racks?

W: Here, a bottle is judged more by its ability to crack heads than the quality of its contents.

G: Ah. If that's the main criteria then I shall reset my expectations accordingly. Water it is!

K: We're not taking a boat to Baldur's Gate, right?

G: And give the Absolute free reign to use us as target practice from the banks? I think not!

K: Ugh. My mum always said the Chionthat was unlucky.

G: I don't suppose you've any clue where we are in relation to Waterdeep?

K: From this distance between Elturel and Baldur's Gate, I'd say… a long way away.

G: Ah. That will make getting word to my mother rather tricky. No matter. What she doesn't know can't hurt her. Not at this distance, anyway.

G: Nothing like a brisk stroll through the forest to invigorate the spirit.

K: I was just thinking the same thing! But… poetically.

G: And without so much as a stirring from our tadpoles.

K: A girl could get used to this.

L: These children and their pets lack discipline. Were they githyanki, I'd recommend further training.

G: Not everyone approaches the raising of their young with such militaristic vigor.

L: That is the very purpose of training. To determine which children shall be warriors, and which are suited to other roles. As for the unruly animals, they would make for nutritious marching rations.

G: Mm, that's certainly one way to make them behave.

L: These flowers are quite vivid, not to mention pungent. Not to my liking.

G: Are there no flowers in [tunirath]?

L: In the city of death, the m'lar cultivate the fruiting bodies that sprout from the corpses of the slain.

G: Huh. I'd rather get them from my florist in Waterdeep, if it's all the same to you.

G: That zaith'isk you mentioned intrigues me. Care to tell me a bit more?

L: An intricate device crafted by m'lar, our most gifted artisans. I am sworn to say no more.

S: Why must the Dead Three be so obvious and ugly with their decor? Blood and bones, bones and blood… Pointy nonsense. At least Shar had some panache.

G: As did Mystra's home on Elysium. Her ribbed vaults and buttresses created a magic entirely of their own… not to mention their pleasure domes.

S: Hah! Pleasure dome.

G: It's a perfectly legitimate architectural feature!

G: The road to Baldur's Gate is a long one. Who knows how long it'll take these folks to get there on foot.

S: If they make it. They're slow, vulnerable. Half or more will die long before Basilisk Gate.

G: Doesn't seem to trouble you a jot.

S: What good would it do for me to be troubled? We can't save them all.

S: You seem to know a good deal about our condition, Gale.

G: Everything, really. Not to put too fine a point on it.

S: A humble specimen, aren't you?

G: On occasion.

G: They're not mutually exclusive! The weave is served best with a dash of eloquence.

G: There's magic here, but it's of a rancid, impure form. Nothing like the true Weave at all.

L: This is why I appreciate a sharp blade to a ball of fire or a bolt of lightning. The Weave is inconsistent, unruly.

G: The Weave is constant, but its users - anything but. We must be on our guard.

L: A githyanki warrior hardly needs to be told that.

L: What is this? This place makes me feel sad, melancholy.

G: Ah, so you're susceptible to the tragedy of a broken home. Maybe you've more in common with us weaker beings than you thought.

L: There's no call to be insulting.

G: Not to diminish our efforts, but. Was rather simple getting here in the end, wasn't it?

L: The obstacles ahead prove to be higher still, which will make the pleasure of overcoming them all the more potent. Imagine the glorious din of it all, the streaming banners, the charging knights. The piles of severed limbs and heads.

G: Mm, I'd rather not, if it's all the same to you.

G: Whatever I expected to find lurking in this cursed gloom, it certainly wasn't this. A glimmer of hope amidst the darkness.

S: That's one way of looking at it. You could also say it's a prime target, the one pocket of light in the gloom.

G: Oh pragmatism, thy name is Shadowheart. You're not wrong, though. Best we keep our sojourn here to a minimum.

G: So! Shadowheart. Such a name implies yours is a difficult heart to find.

S: It's not that hard to find. Perhaps any difficulty is more telling of you, Gale.

G: I always wondered what a vampire's lair would look like. Can't say I pictured it being quite this… theatrical.

L: I find it surprisingly similar to Queen Vlaakith's aesthetic.

G: That makes sense. She does have a flair for the dramatic.

G: No day, no night. It's as though time itself has abandoned this place. Similar to the Astral Plane in some ways, wouldn't you say, Lae'zel?

L: Mm, hardly. It is said that the Astral Plane is threaded with light and silver, life-giving and wondrous in all directions. Nothing like this dismal abyss.

G: Tell me, Lae'zel, what is it like on the Astral Plane? Your home realm intrigues me.

L: Githyanki lay their eggs on other planes. They cannot mature in the Astral.

L: A tadpole nursery, as on the Nautiloid.

G: Quite right, so long as the attempt won't leave us similarly dismantled.

L: Caution is commendable. Boldness is extraordinary. In this case, I recommend the latter.

W: You're an impressive fighter, Gale. You should consider a new name.

G: I take it you have some suggestions?

W: The Wizard Wonder. Or, how about… the Master of the Weave?

G: Tempting, but I think we already have the maximum number of theatrical titles.

G: Pigeons, gulls, sparrows. These streets would make a fine hunting ground for a tressym like Tara.

M: In the Underdark, we have packs of winged hounds to deal with vermin like your precious Tara.

G: Flying hounds? Come now, you're pulling my leg. Aren't you?

M: Yes, I am. It is the bats that would make a meal of her.

M: Umberlee. Her clerics possess a nasty streak as wide as her oceans.

G: So their reputation suggests, especially among the good folk of Waterdeep. I'm curious to learn how you fell foul of them.

M: Blasphemy, said the temple priestess, but Minsc says do not give horns to your statues if you do not wish the visitors to try and make them toot.

G: Yes. That would probably do it.

W: I admire your courage, Gale.

G: Thank you! Any particular reason?

W: Between the orb and the bug, you've got more than your fair share of unwelcome passengers.

G: What can I say? Mother always told me to be a gracious host.

G: My, my. Well I'll say this for the bonecloaks: they know their mushrooms.

S: Perhaps they should expand their horizons. Too much time spent obsessing over fungi seems to leave them a bit, well… like them.

G: Oh, a byproduct of their profession. Few can spend a lifetime inhaling fungal spores without turning out a bit… muddled between the years.

W: This is it, Gale. Today, we annihilate the heart of the Absolute's power.

G: Entirely unnecessary. Though, if they are so inclined, I might be convinced to share a stanza or two of my own for inspiration! Whatever outcome of what's just ahead… it will be the stuff of legends.

G: I knew you were a graceful man, Wyll, but I hear you're quite the dancer, too! I've been known to trip the light fantastic myself. Mine was a popular hand at the annual Blackstaff's Ball.

W: I'd have loved to have witnessed it, Gale. I wager you are as elegant on the dance floor as you are on the battlefield.

S: What did you mean before, Gale? "A woman with shadows for eyes", you said.

G: Merely that if the eyes are the mirror to the soul, yours have dark curtains across the mirror. No offense taken, I hope.

S: Not necessarily. I haven't made up my mind about you yet.

A: Ever heard of a vampire called Cazador, Wyll?

W: I don't think so, no. Why? Friend of yours?

G: He's patriarch of the Szarr family. Nasty fellow, if the histories are accurate.

A: I imagine they are.

L: The right of these prisoners to die in mortal combat was stolen from them.

G: Hardly the worst atrocity the Absolute's committed.

L: One of many, but by no means the least. To die properly is a matter of honor.

W: This is no aimless horde. The Absolute's forces are organized. What do you make of it, Gale?

G: All enemies have some chink in their armor, no matter how much they like to believe themselves invulnerable.

W: And if we don't find any clear weakness?

G: Then we hope our mutual strengths are enough to dominate them. Or! We die nobly in the attempt.

G: I was wondering about your queen, Vlaakith. What tales of her reach us are terrifying. I suppose that's not how you would describe her.

L: Vlaakith is unity. Fear and beauty, life and unlife… eyes like onyx, teeth like daggers. There is none more perfect.

S: Sounds vile. I assume the meaning of perfect was lost in translation.

G: Moonrise Towers lies ahead. We're nearing the heart of the Absolute, I'm certain of it.

W: Then let us push forward, head high, weapons in hand, and turn this tower to rubble.

G: Your confidence is encouraging, but a little premature. Let's keep our eyes on the task ahead- or eye, as the case may be.

W: Who's in charge of the mind flayers, Lae'zel? Is there a squid king or something?

L: No. Each ghaik is servant to an elder brain. No king unites elders, only their collective tyranny.

G: A mind flayer monarch! Imagine that. Such a thing could shatter worlds!

K: Ready to enter the belly of the beast?

G: Ugh. It's the stairs I'm dreading.

G: No sign of tentacles so far.

S: The same. Except for a knot of worry in my stomach that's in no rush to go away.

G: That I can relate to.

G: The masons here thought they were building something to last. How wrong they were.

W: Perhaps it's a blessing that none of them survived to see it fall to the shadows.

G: No need for such a grim assumption. Halsin helped many to escape these shadows before the town was consumed.

W: Then some masons were more blessed still, if they could put their talent to use elsewhere. Perhaps some of their work even graces Baldur's Gate.

S: You seemed quite forward with your compliments earlier. We'd only just met.

G: Seize the day, I say. More now than ever.

S: Careful you don't pull a muscle in this place.

S: Isn't it so that every time you speak as you cast a spell, you're endeavoring to call upon Mystra? I'm surprised she still listens to you.

G: She has no choice. She's sworn to hear all magic users. Even me. I'm sure she at least stuffs her fingers in her ears to muffle my invocations.

G: The history of the city itself is captured in the archives here. A fascinating resource.

W: I wonder what those archives will reveal about us a hundred years hence.

G: Only the most excellent and complimentary things. With some encouragement from us, of course.

G: Look at this place. Such horrors defy description.

S: Silence can be best. Give it a try sometime.

S: What if this creche doesn't work out, Lae'zel? What if your kin fail you?

L: If I can reach the creche, my kin will provide. Any failure will be mine alone.

S: If you say so. Just don't expect me to put all my eggs in the same basket.

G: That expression must sound curious to a githyanki ear, given the way they're birthed.

G: Gods. Who knew such a vile abscess lurked in the bedrock of this city? The very stone reeks of misery and despair.

J: Mm. A sad shrine kept by the lunatic and the lost. The last time I was here, I promised myself I would die beneath open sky. I have not changed my mind.

G: Nor should you. Far better to feel a cool breeze on your skin than whatever foul expirations blow through these halls.

A: Eh, can't say I love what they've done with the place.

G: Unsurprising, really. Fanatical cultists tend to care more for ambience then aesthetics.

A: Hrm. Reason enough to put them all to the sword, I say.

A: Heh, what's this? A clever little hideaway. A little too clever, if you ask me. Watch out for traps.

G: Not just clever. Rather ingenious! Somehow its construction keeps the shadow curse away.

S: The end must be near. No regrets, Gale? You may have been better off staying inside this boulder.

G: Unlikely. Had I stayed there much longer, the orb would have reduced it to rubble. Besides, think of all the fun I'd've missed out on.

S: Fun? Well, yes… I suppose we did manage to make the best of things.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #bg3 gale #gale bg3 #bg3 party banter #party banter

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cod-dump · 7 months

Note

About the monster au: when Ghost has completed the contract he takes Soap instead of Prices soul.

He told Soap about the deal, and Soap made a new one. And this way he can stay at Ghosts side forever, there are only benefits.

Though he promised Ghost he wouldn't tell anyone until it's time to pay up...

Rarity (another monster au)

SoapGhost

———

“So… Price and you have a contract.”

Ghost just huffed as he worked on making himself some tea, a simple thing he took pleasure in since coming to the human world.

“You’re going to take his soul when Makarov is dealt with?”

Ghost said nothing, taking a sip of his tea. That was the original agreement… taking Price’s soul. Though there is fondness for the man, something Ghost never has had for any mortal he has made a contract with, Ghost wasn’t sure if he would spare him. Taking his soul was his payment and Ghost wasn’t sure what would happen (if anything would happen) if he didn’t accept it.

“Does it matter what soul you get?”

Ghost places the mug down, still facing away from Soap, “A soul for my… labor. Servitude of my caliber needs a special kind of payment.”

“Hmm… so it doesn’t matter which soul you get, huh?”

“Not necessarily, though the soul of my client is on the table unless something else is offered.”

There was moment of silence, enough for Ghost sip on his tea without interruption. He could tell Soap was thinking, face twisted up in that endearing manner Ghost has come to enjoy.

“What if I gave you mine?”

Ghost finally turns to look at Soap, “Your soul?”

“Believe I still have it… though a bit old and somewhat rotten.”

Ghost huffs, amused and honestly taken aback by Soap’s boldness, “A vampire’s soul in place of a mortals?”

“Price’s young. Younger than you and I. We’ve seen things, lived our lives to the fullest and so on.”

“Humans don’t last long. I’ve seen the almost end to our contract a multitude of times now. They’re fragile, especially ones that do this kind of work. They break so easily…”

“Aye… but you have to admit he’s impressed you, yea?”

Ghost said nothing but Soap took it as agreement… which he wouldn’t be too far from. Price was impressive but Ghost has seen his kind before. A vengeful, hurt mortal selling their soul in order to get back at the one who hurt them. It was nothing new and Ghost knows many more like Price would come.

“You’d live on well without your soul.”

“Maybe. It’s my connection to humanity. Going without it wouldn’t hurt but I might make some less desirable decisions.”

“So nothing would change?”

Soap laughs and Ghost couldn’t help but smirk.

“Gotta admit that a vampire’s soul isn’t something you demons usually get. Especially not one my fine caliber.”

Ghost couldn’t help but love the tease in Soap’s voice, “Normally they rot theirs away by now. Lose their sense of humanity and anything that made them human.”

“Making me a rarity. Much better than a normal human soul. Mine has some… spice to it.”

The confidence, the smile, the way Soap was so relaxed around him—

“Hmm… I think your soul would be fair payment… maybe even pay forward for other contracts.”

Whether Soap was doing this to save Price or for his own personal gains, Ghost wasn’t sure. But he did know a good deal when he was presented with one and he would be a fool to pass it up. Besides… the extra benefit of a long-lived companion was a bonus.

“You can’t tell Price. You know he’ll fight about it.”

“Eh, then we’ll leave it as a surprise. He loves our surprises.”

Ghost rolls his eyes, feeling Soap lean on the counter next to him, arms brushing as he leaned closer. Yea, not a bad deal at all.

#another monster au #call of duty #cod mwii #modern warfare ii #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #soapghost #ghostsoap #monster au #drabble #ficlet #ask #thanks for the ask <3

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madamefeu · 4 months

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I really feel the need to talk about that scene with Husk and Alastor in episode 5 (You all know the one, don’t lie to me.) It’s really interesting because it sheds a lot of light on Alastor’s character, and his dynamic with Husk. We know that Husk is bound to Alastor, and Alastor seems to resent whoever owns his soul, but that scene strongly suggests that Husk knows who owns Alastor’s soul. This implies one of two things:

1.) Husk was there when Alastor sold his soul

2.) Alastor trusted Husk enough to tell him, and thus presumably to keep the information secret

Here’s another thing. We know from the prequel comics that Alastor has SOME morals, one of those being that he despises those who pick on the weak, and even when he’s directly threatened, he doesn’t kill immediately, and will only do so if he, or someone, or something he wants to protect, is being directly attacked. We also know that Husk used to be an overlord, and like the other overlords, he had to kill, or make deals, and bind souls into his servitude to get his position. Even if Husk isn’t an overlord anymore, he’s still stronger than the average sinner. We also don’t know who Husk made deals with, or who he killed, to get his position, meanwhile we know that Alastor has killed, and dethroned other overlords by making deals with them, but he seems to exclusively target overlords, and other powerful figures in Hell, and he leaves weaker sinners alone. Alastor likely did not approve of Husk’s methods either way. Which brings me back to episode 5. Alastor rarely, if ever, gets angry with anyone, and yet the instant Husk mentions that Alastor’s soul is owned by someone else, he loses his mind, and threatens Husk to the point where he is seen visibly trembling even after Alastor backs down. I don’t think Alastor would have thought anything of it if it had come from anyone else, but to hear it coming from a subordinate whom he likely finds loathsome pissed him off. In Alastor’s mind, threatening Husk is ok, because Husk isn’t weak. He used to be on the same power level as Alastor, and he couldn’t have gotten there without killing other overlords, and making deals, just like Alastor did. Alastor threatening Husk wasn’t just him threatening his life-It was also giving him a taste of his own medicine. Now Husk knows what it’s like to be at the mercy of an overlord, just like all of the souls he once owned.

#hazbin hotel #alastor #episode 5 #husk #spoilers #theory #hazbin hotel spoilers

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the-art-of-ancunin · 4 months

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I'll Be Good [One-Shot]

Summary: As the newest addition to the Vampire Ascendent's twisted little family, you've already proven yourself to be the most vexatious, obstinate, and thankless child he's had the pleasure of breaking. Though he hasn't succeeded quite yet, Astarion is determined to make you bend to his will, to mold you into something useful...though he realizes that perhaps his original intentions may have been a bit off the mark when you manage to pierce through his carefully built walls and awaken something in him that he assumed had perished long ago.

Pairing: Ascended!Astarion x Spawn!Female Reader

Content Warning(s): SMUT, dirty talk, Daddy kink, Creampie, P-in-V, unprotected sex, some overstimulation, etc.

Please let me know if I missed anything.

Also, again... I did not proofread this, no beta-reader, so it might be shit. Let's find out together.

Word Count: 4.9K

The moon hung like a pale specter against the blackened sky, casting a cold, silvery glow over the Crimson Palace as you approached its looming gates. The air was thick with the scent of decay and spices, mingling with the bitter tang of your own despair. Your steps were soundless against the well-worn cobblestones, betraying no hint of your return. Your mind churned with revulsion; you had ventured into Baldur's Gate under the gloom of night, not exactly as a predator but as bait, tasked to ensnare an innocent for your Master’s insatiable appetite.

"Six months," you whispered to yourself, the words a ghostly mist in the chill air. "Six months of this cursed existence." At first, Master Astarion had been lenient, allowing you time to adapt to the thirst that now clawed at your insides, to the newfound strength that coiled in your muscles like a dormant serpent. But his patience had waned and his expectations had risen like the tide.

"Useful" – the word twisted in your gut, a cruel mockery of servitude. You could scrub the castle from top to bottom until your hands bled anew, yet it would never be enough. Fetching trinkets, scrubbing stone, and worse…much worse. This was to be your life, and it all boiled down to control - to Astarion's iron grip on the reins of power, forcing you and everyone else to dance to his whims. You were no stranger to playing the pawn, your life prior stood as testament to the manipulation suffered by those who claimed authority over you. But at least back then, you figured, death would have been the end of it.

"There you are," a voice slithered from the shadows. You immediately stiffened, your undead heart a frozen shard in your chest. Astarion sat, reclined in a beautifully crafted chair situated near the front door - the dim light glinting off his gilded chalice, the crimson liquid within a stark reminder of your grim existence.

"Master," you acknowledged, the title a leaden weight on your tongue.

"Out and about, playing the part of the dutiful daughter?" His smirk cut through the darkness, a blade honed by centuries of cunning. "Yet, you return to me empty-handed. Again."

Your resolve flickered as you met his gaze, those vermillion eyes a tempest of enigmatic desires. "The night was...unkind to me, I admit. My apologies," you lied smoothly, your voice a practiced melody of regret.

"Unkind," he echoed mockingly. "For as pretty as you are, my sweet, it's quite astonishing how you've proven to be such a lousy whore. We all must earn our keep in this family, Y/N. You know this." His tone held the chill of an unspoken threat.

"Of course, Master," you said, your voice betraying none of the turmoil that raged within you. Your fists clenched at your sides, nails digging into your palms, a small act of defiance against his suffocating rule.

"Words are but wind, my dear," He continued, rising gracefully to stand before you. "Actions are what bind us – or condemn us."

You could feel the weight of his scrutiny, as tangible as the stone walls that encased them. Every instinct screamed to flee, to rail against the chains that bound you to his side, but survival was a lesson hard-learned. Composure was your shield, obedience your sword.

"I'd be more than happy to clean this palace top to bottom every day until the sky falls down," you replied, each word measured and deliberate. "I've told you this a hundred times or more. I'll gladly earn my keep, but I am not going to whore myself just to keep your snack cupboard stocked. I'm not that type of girl and not even you can take that from me. I won't let you."

You let out a strangled yelp as your Master’s iron grip encircled your throat, the cold touch of his fingers a stark contrast to the fire that had been kindling between you moments before. Your feet dangled helplessly above the marble floor, your back collided harshly against the unforgiving stone wall behind you. His eyes, dark as you had ever seen them, burned into yours with an intensity that could sear flesh.

"Displeased, are we?" he sneered, the venom in his voice dripping like acid. "The world outside these walls is a cruel one, darling. You know that...but if you'd rather go waltzing back into your father's open arms...well, that can be arranged. That drunkard who treated you like filth? My...I'm sure he'd be quite surprised to see you."

Your blood pounded in your ears, each thrum a drumroll of panic and resignation. You could feel the oppressive weight of Astarion's power crushing your spirit, but the thought of returning to your father's brutality was a fate worse than any torment your master could devise. In a choked whisper borne of fear and desperation, you managed to utter, "No, no, no - Please..."

"Good," He growled. "So we have an understanding, then?"

Your nod was almost imperceptible, your gaze not leaving his. The silence stretched taut between you until you added softly, with a trace of disdain you couldn't suppress, "Yes, Daddy ."

His vermillion eyes narrowed, a dangerous glint flashing within their depths. "What was that?" he demanded, his voice low and threatening.

Shit.

"Nothing, Master. I just said yes." Your words were barely audible, a mere breath carried on the stagnant air of the corridor.

"No. Say it again. As you did before," he commanded, something primal awakening inside him.

You hesitated. His grip tightened.

"Yes, Daddy." The words slipped from your lips, strained and hesitant. You couldn't decipher the look that painted his beautiful yet terrifying face—a mosaic of power, anger, and something else you dared not name.

He released his hold, allowing you to slide down the wall, your legs quivering as they struggled to support your weight. He didn't step away, though; instead, he caged you within the prison of his arms, his presence enveloping you. His hand, no longer a vise on your neck, traced a path up your trembling form, coming to rest beneath your chin, tilting your head up to meet his gaze.

"Look at me," he whispered, his thumb brushing across your lower lip with a gentleness that belied the ferocity of his earlier actions.

You obeyed, your eyes locking onto his. There was no escaping the raw desire that swirled in those fathomless pools. The tension crackled between you, electric and overwhelming.

"Are you afraid, little one?" he asked, his voice a seductive purr that resonated in the hollows of your chest.

"Of you? Don't flatter yourself," Your reply came out steadier than you felt, the rebellious spark within you flickering to life despite the danger.

Your Master chuckled, the sound rumbling deep within his chest. "You should be. There are so very many things that I could do to you, sweet girl."

His breath brushed against your skin, igniting a shiver that danced along your spine.

"Perhaps it's time we renegotiate the terms of this little arrangement of ours, yes?" He purred, his grip on your chin tightening ever so slightly.

A smile tugged at the corner of his lips, a cruel mockery of affection. You swallowed hard, your throat dry with fear and anticipation.

"What do you mean?" you squeaked, your voice barely more than a whisper.

"I rule over this palace, this city, and over my... beloved children, with an iron first - it's true," he spoke lowly, his gaze never leaving yours, "But an unreasonable man, I am not. You want to refuse to work - to help provide for yourself and your family? For me, the man who gifted you with life eternal and stole you away from the misery of your previous existence? Who took you in from the slums to live in luxury inside of his palace? Well...so be it, darling. You don't want to whore yourself out on the streets? Fine . Allow me to show you what's to be expected of you now - think of this as a chance to prove your worth, hm? If you do well, you'll never have to set foot in the city ever again ."

You hesitated for a moment too long, the uncertainty in your eyes betraying you. Astarion's hand left your chin, replacing it with a firm grip around your upper arm, leading you down the shadowy corridor.

"Come now," he said, his tone gruff but laced with promise. "Let us test your... endurance , shall we?"

The darkness enveloped you as you journeyed deeper into the palace, each step echoing ominously in the dank corridors. With every passing moment, you felt more and more like you were spiraling into an abyss you could never escape.

Astarion stopped abruptly, pulling you to a halt in front of a heavy wooden door. Your stomach dropped.

The Kennels.

The knob turned with a groan, and the door swung open to reveal a small, windowless room, the air inside heavy with the scent of ancient blood and endless anguish.

You took a deep breath, your undead heart twisting violently in your chest. This was where all the "expendable" assets of the household were kept, the lowest of the low - and you knew it.

"Inside," He commanded coldly.

"No!" You cried as you tried to pull away from his grip, "Please, no! I'll be good - Please! Please, I swear it!" But his hold on you only tightened, his fingertips digging into your arm.

"You're going to learn, my dear," He murmured, his voice low and hungry, "You're going to learn to submit to me, one way or another."

With a harsh shove, you stumbled forward into the room. Air rushed out of your lungs as you hit the cold, unyielding stone beneath you, the room's darkness swallowing you whole. Astarion stood over you, his pale silhouette framed by the doorway.

"Careful now, pet," He cooed, clicking his tongue in faux concern. His voice was a melody that belied the danger it carried. "Are you hurt?"

Your palms stung with abrasions as you shuffled backward, your gaze locked onto the elf who towered above you. You hastily examined yourself, feeling the sting of fresh scrapes on your knees, the evidence of your flesh's betrayal: small droplets of blood blossoming against your skin. "I'm fine," you managed, your voice steadier than you felt, propped up on trembling elbows, the fabric of your dress offering scant protection from the chill of the room.

"Fine," he repeated, a predator's grin carving into his features as his eyes flicked to the wounds on your knees before raking over your form. There was something unsettlingly tender about the way he observed you, as if you were both prey and masterpiece all at once.

Astarion's movements were fluid as he began to unbuckle his belt. The leather slid through the loops with an ominous whisper, and the air grew thick with tension. A strange glint, like the edge of a knife, flashed in his eyes, capturing your every fleeting emotion: surprise morphing into disgust, then a shameful twinge of longing that betrayed your better judgment.

"Do you have any idea how long it has been since I've sought... relief, Y/N?" His voice was silk and steel.

"Hours, I presume?" Your voice dripped with malice, belying the flutter of your pulse at the sight of the discarded belt.

A chuckle escaped him, low and resonant, as he methodically worked the buttons of his shirt. "Decades," he corrected, the word punctuated by the soft pop of fabric yielding to his deft fingers.

"Decades seem but moments for someone with eternity at their disposal," you shot back, wearing your defiance as a thin veil.

He shrugged off the shirt, revealing his chest sculpted from moonlight and marble, his smirk cutting through the darkness. "I have not known another's touch since I was but a spawn myself," he confessed, his voice a hush of raw truth that slithered through the shadows. "A time before your father's seed even thought to take root."

Your laughter rang hollow in the confined space. "And am I to believe you've satiated yourself with nothing but your own hand? A creature as comely as yourself?" You challenged, pushing down the unnerving awareness of his proximity.

"Indeed." His affirmation was simple, yet it held the weight of ages within it. "Desire was a luxury stripped from me, a complication I was content to live without." A pause, and then he stepped closer. "Until a vexatious little brat invaded my sanctuary and ignited a problem I presumed to have been long extinguished."

Your mind whirred, caught between disbelief and the dawning realization of what this meant. Your body reacted more honestly than you cared to admit, a thrum of anticipation weaving through your veins despite the gravity of the situation. You cursed yourself inwardly, your instincts betraying you again—how could you desire this monster, this bastard, this tyrant?

His movements were fluid, a whisper of fabric against skin as he untied the laces that held his trousers. His deliberate hands betrayed no urgency, yet each motion was laden with intent. With a deft flick of his wrist, the garment fell away, followed by the muted sound of his underclothes as they joined the heap of discarded attire.

Your gaze traced the lines of his body, a study in contrasts—his pallid skin almost luminous against the room's shadows. Your breath left you as you noted the prominent veins low on his torso, like pale blue rivulets frozen in time, leading to the cradle of his arousal. Your Master stood unabashed, his bare body exposed to your gaze. His manhood, thick and rigid between his legs, continued to swell as he wrapped his long fingers around it. With each stroke of his hand, his cock throbbed and pulsed in response, the movements hypnotic and undeniably human. You couldn't tear your eyes away as he continued to pleasure himself in front of you. A flush crept up your neck at the sight of him, his nakedness and self-pleasure stirring something inside you. With each pull of his hand, more of his flushed head was revealed, his foreskin sliding back and forth like a dance of concealment and revelation that quickened your pulse.

"Undress," he ordered, his voice a velvet demand that left no room for argument. Clearing his throat, he held your gaze, the crimson of his eyes smoldering with a lifetime's worth of longing, suddenly exhumed from the depths of his being.

"Or do you need assistance?" There was a taunt woven into his words, a challenge that roused both defiance and curiosity within you.

"I'm not a child," you spat back, even as your fingers moved to the fastenings of your dress, a traitorous mix of fear and desire propelling your actions. Each button popped open, an audible punctuation to the silence that stretched between you, thick with anticipation.

As fabric parted to unveil your skin, your thoughts tangled with the implications of what lay ahead. Were you yielding to his will or seizing control of the only thing that you could—the power of your own flesh?

"Good girl," Astarion praised, a sinister satisfaction lining his tone. Yet, for all his composure, there was a glint of something else—a flicker of awe or perhaps admiration—at your defiant display of vulnerability.

"I'm not that, either," you whispered teasingly, lying bare before him on the cold stone in all of your glory, your chin lifted in silent rebellion. But the look in his eye, the way it softened ever so slightly, told you that the game had shifted, that this moment was more than a simple exchange of power. It was a crossing of thresholds, a venture into a realm where the line between captor and captive blurred into nothingness, leaving you simply as man and woman, bound by the weight of your desire.

The air grew heavy with the scent of lust as Astarion stepped closer, his hand a rhythmic presence on his needy cock. The moonlight cast an otherworldly glow upon his pale skin, turning it almost translucent as he moved like a creature of myth. He lowered himself to his knees with an effortless grace, parting your legs with a deliberate touch.

" Ahh , but you will be," He rasped. "You're going to be a very, very good girl for Daddy from now on, aren't you?"

You simply stared for a moment as you processed his words, your body responding involuntarily to the command in his tone—your nipples peaked in anticipation. A mix of fear and arousal churned within you as you met his eyes, so deep and captivating it felt as if he could see into the very depths of your soul.

A small, involuntary cry escaped you as Astarion pressed his cockhead against the slick warmth between your thighs. He drew the length of his hardness along your folds slowly, each stroke a promise of what was to come. When the tip brushed your swollen nub, a jolt of pleasure shot through your body, rendering you momentarily speechless.

"Y-yes," you managed to whisper, your eyes locked onto his with a mixture of trepidation and longing.

"Speak up, dear. I didn't quite catch that." His cheeky wit laced his words, though his expression remained intense, demanding.

Your lips parted, the words coming louder this time, filled with the knowledge of the power exchange between them. "Yes, daddy ."

"Again," he commanded, not because he hadn't heard you, but because he relished in the sound of your submission. Each repetition carved your acquiescence deeper into the fabric of this encounter between you.

"Yes, daddy," you repeated, your voice now steady with acceptance.

This was the game Astarion played best, a dance of dominance and surrender. After years of being subjected to Cazador Szarr's cruel whims, the tables had finally turned. Now he wielded control, and in it, he found a dark solace. No longer a pawn, he was now the master of his own desires, a vampire ascendant, savoring the sweet yield of another's will beneath him.

His hips slid forward with just enough force that it sent shivers coursing through your sensitive core. You arched beneath him, your back pressing against the cold stone, your nails scraping against it as you sought purchase. Your breaths came faster, your eyes widening in a mix of shock and pleasure.

"That's it, darling," He coaxed, his voice low and sultry. "Let me hear you say it. Tell Daddy what you want."

"I want you," you confessed, the words tumbling off of your lips like an admission of defeat. "Please fuck me."

Astarion chuckled deep in his throat, something wicked and wild in his eyes. With a burst of motion, he captured your lips in a searing kiss, his tongue darting into your mouth, tasting your submission.

"Try again."

"I want you," you said again, your voice shaking with anticipation. "Please, Daddy - Please, fuck me."

Your Master’s eyes burned with desire as he pulled back from your lips, the scent of your arousal filling his senses. He positioned himself at your entrance, the tip of his cock already slick with your juices.

"Is this what you want, sweet girl?" he asked, his voice quiet and seductive, gently teasing your entrance with his swollen head as he spoke, "I need you to be certain."

"Yes, Daddy," you moaned, your hips bucking involuntarily, urging him closer.

With a low growl, Astarion pressed into you, letting out a small groan as his tip popped through the tight threshold of your snug channel. You were so small, so tight, and his cock stretched you like nothing you had ever experienced. The simple feat of taking the fat crown of him into your body had knocked the air from your lungs as your body attempted to adjust to the invasion, the pleasure mingling with the pain of being split open. You thanked the Gods that you no longer required air to live, as the intensity of that first shallow stroke paled in comparison to the fullness of feeling him sink another inch of his rigid shaft into you.

"Y/N," he groaned, his hips pulling back just slightly before pushing forward once more, sinking more of his cock into your tight hole every time he slid in and out of you in a gentle, steady rhythm.

You blinked a few times, mouth agape as your inner walls continued to struggle, hesitant to yield to him in spite of the way your arousal drenched your thighs. You could feel every inch, every pulse, every vein that adorned his hardness as he moved within you, opening you up in ways you had never imagined.

“Gods, Astarion," you whispered, your voice thick with desire. In spite of yourself, you found yourself craving that twinge of pain that pierced through your core each time he pressed a little deeper. Gods, it hurt but then…it felt so fucking good, too. You wanted nothing more than to feel him buried deep inside of you, until his heavy balls were pressed tightly against your bottom.

The pale elf snarled, almost as if he could read your mind - his thrusts becoming more forceful, his hips slamming against your delicate form. A sordid scream tore from your throat as your body was forced to accept him fully, the agonizing pleasure coursing through your veins with each thrust.

Your bodies moved in perfect harmony, your moans echoing off the cold stone walls, merging into a symphony of passion and release. Astarion's hands gripped your hips tightly, his fingers digging into your flesh as he thrust into you with fervor.

He leaned down as he whispered into your ear, his voice a velvety promise. "You're going to come for me, aren't you, little one?"

A small moan escaped you, Astarion’s piercing gaze and the depravity of this intimate act overwhelming both body and mind. You could feel the hot wetness of your sex coating your inner thighs and dripping onto the stone below as your climax began to build.

"Yes," you whimpered, your voice filled with raw need. "Fuck, Daddy - I'm so close...,"

Astarion's hips pounded against you with increasing urgency as he felt you nearing your peak. He knew that once you came, you would be his, submission and surrender so complete that it would bind you together forever.

"That's it, darling," he growled, his voice rough with desire. "Come for me. Scream my name as you take me. Let your brothers and sisters know who Daddy's favorite is."

He pumped into you harder, his cock sliding in and out of you with a wet, slapping sound that permeated the air. Your moans grew louder, your body trembling as the intense pleasure built within you. You could feel your orgasm cresting, your walls tightening around his cock.

"Yes," you cried out, your voice strained. "Please, Daddy, I need you - I need to...ahhh!"

Hearing your plea sent a shockwave of desire through Astarion's body, causing him to press into the soft barrier of your cervix over and over again. His cock was like a branding iron, carving his name into the sacred landscape of your womb, of your very soul.

"Gods, yes," You mewled, your eyes locked onto his as the delicious dragging of his thick shaft moving inside of you became too much to bear. With a shuddering gasp, you came undone, your pussy clenching and spasming around him as wave after wave of pure bliss crashed over you.

Astarion watched your face as you came, the way your lips parted, your eyes rolling back into your head, your body bucking beneath him in unbridled passion. He knew this was only the beginning. As your orgasm subsided, he continued to rut into you, his cock twitching and throbbing with each stroke, eager to find its own release.

With each slap of his hips against yours, a whimper escaped your lips, your nails digging into the cold stone as your body was pushed to its limits. The pleasure was almost too much, but you found yourself craving more, wanting to give him everything you had.

As your orgasm faded into a gentle hum, you found yourself wanting to reciprocate. You wrapped your legs around your Master’s waist, pulling him closer to you, allowing him to fuck himself into you as deeply as he desired as your hips matched his rhythm. Your hands clutched him tightly, your nails softly digging into his skin as you found your own desire beginning to resurface.

"Daddy," you pleaded pathetically, "Fuck me. Make me yours. Please."

Astarion's eyes widened for but a moment at your words, his thrusts wavering only for a second before his flesh once again met yours with a punishing pace, the lewd sound of your squelching sex and skin meeting skin echoed off of the walls.

"That's it, sweet girl," he rasped, his voice breaking for just a moment as a moan escaped his lips. "Take it all. Let me feel you around me."

Your eyes locked onto his, your breaths coming in short gasps as pleasure and pain mingled within you, creating a symphony of sensations that threatened to consume you and suddenly you noticed that familiar tension building within you once again.

"Ahh, fuck...please," You cried, "Fuck, its too much..."

A choked scream tore from your chest before his name spilled from your lips, your body writhing beneath your master as his fangs pierced the skin of your neck.

Astarion drank deeply, the taste of your blood filling him with a sense of completeness he had never known. He pulled away, his lips leaving a faint kiss on the mark he had made on your neck.

"Ssshh - you're taking it so well, darling," he groaned, his hands gripped your hips roughly, pulling you tightly against him. "I'm so close, love. Come with me."

Your body trembled as your climax grew closer with each thrust of his cock into your wet heat. It felt like a wildfire, igniting every nerve and sensitive spot in your body.

"Please, Daddy," you whined, your voice barely audible over the sound of your bodies joining. " Ahhh -"

Astarion pistoned himself into you, his thrusts becoming erratic as once again you approached your peak. Your pussy clenched around him, urging him closer to his own release.

"That's it, pet," he purred, "Let it happen. Let go."

Your eyes fluttered shut, your body trembling as you surrendered to the sensations coursing through you. The agonizing fullness of your master spearing into your core all but consumed you entirely as you came undone once again - you cried his name from your lips, the sound reverberating throughout the palace.

With a deep, guttural growl, Astarion sank into you one final time, burying every last inch of himself inside of your pretty little cunt as his aching balls tightened. Every muscle in his body tensed and quivered as he emptied himself inside you, your bodies coming together in a carnal display of ecstasy and release. Your breathing was heavy and ragged, the sweat on your skin mingled with one another as you laid locked in each other's embrace. The intensity of the moment consumed you both, leaving you both trembling with raw passion and desire.

The quivering shadows on the walls seemed to dance with your lingering tremors, echoes of your pleasure slowly subsiding. Astarion withdrew himself from your tender warmth, leaving a palpable emptiness in his wake.

"Shh," He whispered against your flushed skin, his lips brushing your face and neck with a tenderness that belied his predatory nature, a stark contrast to the fervor you had just shared. With hands both firm and gentle, he turned you onto your stomach, the cool stone pressing against your cheek as you complied wordlessly.

Your hips were lifted by his confident grasp, baring you to him once more. The air caressed your exposed flesh, heightening your awareness of your own vulnerability and the wet that continued to coat and trickle down your thighs—a tribute to your union. Astarion's purr vibrated through the silence, a sound of dark satisfaction as he admired the sight before him.

"Look at you... such a good girl for me, Y/N." His voice was soft yet sinister, a paradox that sent shivers down your spine. As he stroked the swell of your ass with an almost reverent touch, you braced yourself. Expecting a strike that never came.

"Thank... thank you, Master," you managed, your words trembling as much as your body. Your eyes, heavy-lidded with exhaustion, sought out his face. Even now, his attention was fixated on the proof of his possession, the essence of him that marked you as his own.

His fingers traced the intimate path where your bodies had been joined, gathering the evidence of his claim and deliberately pushing it back inside of you with a possessiveness that was both invasive and oddly comforting. You winced, the sensation overwhelming yet incomplete without him filling you entirely.

"Is it too much?" he teased, his tone laced with feigned concern and a pout that only served to mock. You could see the glint of amusement in his eyes, the playful cruelty that he so often enjoyed.

You shook your head, a silent plea for him to continue, to test the boundaries of your resilience. You would endure; you would be good.

You promised.

#astarion #astarion ancunin #bg3 astarion #astarion bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate astarion #baldur’s gate astarion #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 astarion #astarion smut #daddy k!nk

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gatorlovebot · 8 months

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continuation of this blurb here. check out my king!simon masterlist here.

the days following your dispute with simon over lunch were reminiscent of your earlier days serving under the king. you performed all your duties but there was no laughter, no shared looks, none of simon’s dreadful puns. you couldn’t tell if simon was upset with you or if he was just giving you the space that you had asked for.

there’s a part of you that wishes you could take it back, take back all of your biting words from your little quarrel so things could go back to how they’d always been. even if you couldn’t have simon to yourself, you’d do anything to get back his humor and casual touch.

was this how it was going to be? was this his way of telling you that he doesn’t want you?

the questions swirled through your mind constantly, but everytime you tried to open up your mouth, no sound would come out, fearful of whatever response you’d get in return.

you didn’t think you’d feel this awful, having been so fiercely irritated with him days previous. but now you couldn’t muster up the energy to be cross with him because you missed him.

you seemed to luck out though, the secretary had scheduled an hours long meeting with you to create the itinerary for the king’s upcoming cross country trip. simon would not be in attendance, instead attending to other matters, and you were frankly excited to spend some time away from him.

you had to admit that it was going to be bitter sweet though, the only time you got to spend away from him was time spent planning his trip. that you would be accompanying him on. your dynamic may have changed over the past few days but your duties to your king had not.

“so, this is where you’ll be staying, i already sent for the accommodations. i made sure to get you a room right next to the king’s.” and you shouldn’t be surprised, on all your travels you had lodged right next to simon. it used to be something that you reveled in, being able to fall out of bed and go directly next door to pick out his clothes instead of having to walk all the way across the castle in the early hours of the morning. but now you dread the mornings and the way you and simon barely speak while alone in his bedroom, just going through the motions.

“it’s quite a long trains ride, most likely all day,” the secretary continued you on, outlining your future route on a map that he had rolled out across the table. you couldn’t say you were excited for such a long journey, but you hoped that maybe a change of scenery would help with your’s and simon’s issues. “but the journey is worth it for such a beautiful place.”

“have you been there?” you inquire. you had been working more with the secretary the past few days, little details here and there regarding the upcoming departure, but this is your first time sitting down with him for an extended period of time. it would be good for your future working relationship to get to know each other better.

“i have, i did a bit of traveling on my own before coming to the castle.” he explained, pointing out various other cities and towns on the map. “i didn’t really know what kind of opportunities i’d have for travel while here, so i traveled to some places i really wanted to see before accepting the position.”

your servitude under the king has allowed you many opportunities for travel, to see parts of the world you could have never even imagined. but there was a little bit of desire within you to be able to go where you wanted when you wanted, instead of only going places to accompany the king. especially now, with your relationship with the king in such a precarious position. there was a feeling of trepidation with the upcoming trip, only a few short days away now. throughout the years, you and simon had your ups and downs, but this time you were expecting a permanent change in your relationship to him, and not a positive one.

you sat in silence as the secretary went over the rest of the itinerary, where you and the king would be going, what people you would be meeting. the trip was to only last a few days, each day packed with things to do and people to meet. the secretary was advising you on potential clothing items to pack, due to your destination experiencing snowfall before your kingdom when you felt a presence lingering at the doorway.

the secretary also noticed the presence, turning to see simon stood in the threshold. taking in the sight of the two of you huddled up at the table. you had a hard time reading his face, but his voice was surprisingly soft as he spoke, “i’m going down to dinner, my dear, if you’d like to join me.”

it's something that he started doing after your spat, asking you if you wanted to do things, if you wanted to join him, instead of just expecting you to do so. you found it odd, he hadn’t absolved you of your duties yet so why was he continuously giving you a choice in them?

“or,” he continued, voice almost curious, “if you two would like some more time together you can.”

you consider his offer for a moment, you had been having a pleasant time with the secretary, you could easily send simon down to dinner alone. but you had to admit that you missed his handsome face in the hours that you had been apart that day. you turned back to the secretary and started gathering up the papers that were strewn across the table, “thank you so much for you time today, sir, i think we’ve smoothed everything out for the trip.”

you could see a flash of disappointment on his face, maybe expecting you to stay with him instead of going to simon. you probably should have stayed with him, should tell simon to leave and ask the secretary what his previous offer would entail. you were a little stumped that he hadn’t taken this meeting as an opportunity to approach you about it again since the previous time he seemed so serious. but his face quickly settled into a polite smile, the one that he usually had on his face. “thank you for my your time today, my dear. enjoy your dinner.”

you stood from your chair, gathering up your documents in hand before making your way over to simon to make your way down to the dining room. you stopped at the threshold at the sound of the secretary's voice, “your highness, thank you for letting me borrow her for the day.”

simon didn’t even turn to face the secretary, just inhaling loud and long before biting out, “she’s not something to borrow.” and with that gruff comment he stepped out into the corridor, and strided to the staircase.

you wanted to roll your eyes at his comment and abrupt departure down the corridor, but it was just so simon that you couldn’t help but let a humorous smile stretch across your lips. you wordlessly followed him down the stairs, down hallway after hallway until you finally reach the grand dining room.

as you make your way to the table simon does something surprising, he pulls out your chair for you. it was something that he did for you in your first few days of serving under him, until you two became more comfortable with each other and you told him through laughter that he did not have to do such cliche gestures for you.

you looked at him curiously, but when all he did was gesture to the seat you wordlessly sat down, allowing him to push you in closer to the table. in a moment there’s a plate of delicious, hot food placed in front of you and when simon sits across from you, he digs into his meal the room stays quiet for a few long moments, only the sounds of your cutlery filling the room.

“getting along well with the secretary?” his tone is casual, but the question itself makes your ears perk up. even though you two have barely spoken these past few says, you’ve been waiting for more hurtful words to come out of him. you braced yourself for this conversation to get quickly derailed by his jealousy and anger.

you try to keep your voice light and even as you respond, “we got all the details of the trip finalized.” you wouldn’t bore him with all the details tonight, that would be a job for his secretary in the days leading up to the trip.

he makes an inquisitive noise, “you know, it’s interesting, the way he looks at you and the way he talks about you.”

you stop, your fork held in the air, before bringing it back down to your plate, pondering his words. you weren’t sure what he could be referring to but you knew he would tell you whether or not you even asked. “what do you mean, your highness?”

he doesn’t respond for a moment and you just continue to look at your plate, pushing food around with your fork, until you feel something nudge your foot. it makes you look up at him, attention held by his dark gaze. “he looks at you with rapt attention, hanging on your every word, and then he goes on to ruin it by claiming you’re just something to borrow.” he scoffs, “you don’t borrow people, especially not you.”

simon was very interesting at times. indirectly talking about his feelings because he never learned how to state them outright. you knew him, you always knew what he was trying to say. but you were no longer going to sit and just infer about his feelings anymore, you needed to hear them.

“wouldn’t be the first time one of your men showed me disrespect.” you quipped. the sting of the mens’ harsh words had dissipated over the years, you had come to terms that they would never see you as a part of simon’s court. it didn’t really matter to you, knowing that you would always be significantly closer to the king than any of them could even dream to be. but it still irritated you, knowing that simon thought of himself as your savior, your protector, and yet he wouldn’t send away any of the rude men that served under him. would only bark at them before they muttered a fearful apology and then allow them to continue on with their duties.

“you’re right,” he sets down his cutlery, giving you his full attention. “and i will rectify that as soon as we come back from our travels.”

now you roll your eyes, having a hard time taking in his sincerity. too little, too late, you think to yourself. “and what will that entail?”

he picks up his fork again, “when we get back i'll dismiss all of my court and fill only the roles that are absolutely necessary. that will mostly be for appearances, we both know it just takes the two of us to run the kingdom.”

just takes the two of us to run the kingdom. maybe that would be true in another life. in a life where simon would claim you as his own.

“that’s no solution to this simon, that’s not what i want.” you push back.

he raises his hands in disbelief, “what could you possibly want then, if not that, then what?”

“i want us to talk about the real issue here!” you spit back, anger bubbling over. “you know that the past few days have been awkward not because of your fucking court, or because of anyone else, it’s because i asked you to finally decide what you wanted out of me.”

“what i wanted out of you?” he repeats, incredulous, “what i want doesn’t matter, because all i’ve ever wanted is what you wanted.”

tears spring to your eyes, fear and anger mixing up inside of you as you get the courage to speak, “i want love, simon, i want companionship. and you feel for me as strongly as i feel for you, but i want to know it, i want to hear it. i need to know that you choose me over-”

“i do, it’s you! it’s always been you,” he pleads.

“then prove it.” you challenge, mustering up all the conviction you can.

#gator.writing #simon ghost riley imagine #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #ghost headcanons #ghost x reader #simon riley x you #king simon

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viihoff · 7 months

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How does Astarion and Tav's relationship develop during their romance? A little analysis and a really long post, part 1 of 2, first and second Acts.

Please note that this is an interpretation. Your Tav's relationships with Astarion might evolve in a different way, it's a mix of both canon and headcanon material. I just love analyzing people and writing stuff.

Act 1.

During this time, Astarion's in survival mode. Being thrown into the world, unknowing if he's free of Cazador's will or not, if he's being chased or not, Astarion resorts to the skeleton of his behavioral pattern - manipulation. He cannot trust Tav, both because he's a vampire (and vamps don't have a good rep, of course), and because the centuries he spent in servitude, deprived of any hope and freedom, thought him to rely on himself, only. He's lost, scared, bewildered. Astarion is drunk with the sense of freedom, but he doesn't know when or how it might end, what's out there for him, and what to do. Seeing Tav, he latches on to them, and starts to plan how to get the most out of them.

So, feeling where the wind's blowing, and seeing Tav as a solidified leader of the group, Astarion starts playing his game. He tries to appear charming and flirts with Tav (and sometimes not only them, but also Gale, Wyll, etc, he needs to have his options open) despite not being whatsoever close to them. It might appear, from Tav's perspective, that Astarion's just like that - overly flirty, promiscuous, a down to earth guy who seeks the simple pleasures. And, maybe, genuinely likes them, why not. But, of course, Astarion doesn't. He actively acts on the persona he created, not willing to share his true feelings yet. He might feel sympathy towards certain Tav's behaviors, like being self-serving, but he doesn't trust them. Again, yet. Even during the first and second sex scenes with Astarion, as he confirms in Act 3 if you didn't get his confession, it was only a transaction for him. His body for your loyalty and a faint chance of you being enamored enough not to stab Astarion in his back.

This is the reason why I don't believe that Astarion develops a crush on Tav in the 1st Act. He prayed for 200 years to the gods for him to be saved, of course they won't send an angel now who would magically sort his shit out for him and basically save him from Cazador, will they? It would be really unfair, after all these years, and totally unrealistic. So, everything he does is an act, confirmed to me by the way Petras acts when you meet him in Act 3. Same mannerism, same learned by heart 'honeyed words' Astarion uses on Tav to lure them in. The way he talks, gestures, plays with the pitch of his voice - Tav's constantly bombarded with the best tactics Astarion has developed to lure people in. There's only a number of times when's genuine - when you reject him, and when he's bitching during the cutscenes and over some of your choices. Right now, the only feeling Astarion's is comfortable to share is anger and mild dissatisfaction. All of his pain is saved for later.

I'm confident to say that spending the night with Tav was a 'duty' of Astarion's, as he himself believed, and he didn't get any initial pleasure in doing it. Of course, he did it willingly (and it was good sex, otherwise Tav wouldn't have been screaming Astarion's name into the night for everyone to hear, lol). However, it was no more than a type of physical labor one performs, totally mechanized.

Act 2.

This is when the immediate danger of being turned into a mindflayer is not a real life threat anymore and being 100% reliant on the good will of Tav isn't a survival strategy.

Genuine friendship starts to develop due to the time spent together and the good things Tav is ready to do for Astarion without asking anything in return. Everyone who's upset over not being able to start as friends with Astarion before initiating the romance - rejoice, I really believe it happens this way in the game. No matter the approval, Astarion begins to warm up to Tav and other companions only in Act 2, feeling comfortable and experiencing true camaraderie for the first time in his life. I say that because I believe that most of the bonding is happening behind the scenes, and the only thing we see is the byproduct. You cease to be a group of survivals in Act 2 and become a real team.

Thus, Astarion begins to feel safe. Not only thanks to Tav being compassionate towards him UNCONDITIONALLY, but because everyone else in your band is ready to protect him and one another. Astarion finds true safety, and, thanks to that, survival mode is finally off.

His mental capacities are finally free to start not only caring about his immediate survival (because he's surrounded by friends, and I don't care how apathetic companions act towards Astarion in his spawn ending, this shit is the result of time crunch, not the way the band would really behave, I'm sure of it), but observe. He sees the person before him, Tav, who does things and doesn't ask shit in return from him, who's genuinely compassionate and kind, and he finally stops viewing this as a weakness. Why? Because it was proven to him by Tav's actions that being a good person is a real life strategy and doesn't always leave you weaker than you were before, but stronger, with more allies and resources than before.

By observing Tav, Astarion sees and understands that there are people who can care for him, and they don't get crashed by the big bad world which is cruel and actively acts against you.

No, the world is indifferent, and shit happens because people choose to act like that. Cazador was a cruel monster to Astarion because he chose to, and Tav cares for him and stands for him because they chose to. There are people who he can trust.

This is the point when Astarion cracks. I believe that he falls for Tav not for their looks or certain temperament (this is the reason why you can romance him as a gnome who he is racist towards, lmao), but they way Tav treats him. He falls for Tav's protecting and kind nature towards him, and after that, I think, he starts seeing beauty in the looks, certain character quirks and stuff like that.

After you helped him decipher his scars and/or protected him from the blood merchant, all of his walls are down. He's a cup full of sheer admiration and gratitude, and, when he confesses, he still doesn't understand that he's in love. He thanks Tav for being there for him, and although he doesn't know what he feels or wants, he enjoys having Tav around him. Being with Tav gave him the strength to believe that good things can happen to him, too. Despite still being in danger from Cazador, he's finally hopeful enough to desire something beyond being away from his master.

He wants revenge. He wants to finally stop pretending. He wants closure. He wants to move on. And he wants Tav.

He wants to treat them the same way they treat him. He finally has the capacity to give back the kindness, because he was given enough of it for him to spare.

And then we move to Act 3, but I will do this part some next time, because this post is already ungodly long. I will also write about the way Astarion's relationship with Durge evolves and how it is a bit different from a standard romance.

Cheers, vampire lovers.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #astarion #astarion x tav #text post #next time I will also include some Durge analysis #cause the relationship there is a bit different #you're more of on an equal footing there #I must have made so many mistakes writing this #sorry English is not my first language

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lunareiitic · 2 months

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HSR 2.1 SPOILERS AHEAD BE WARNED.

---

Okay now that everyone who hasn't caught up has left: let's talk framing of the IPC.

When Topaz released, a lot of you were ragebaiting and telling people you hoped their jobs exploited them when people were like "oh I like her as character." Notably, I personally haven't seen that kind of ragebaiting with Aventurine's backstory and the answer isn't just misogyny, but it is related to how little some of you pay attention.

Topaz and Aventurine are peers, and are clearly juxtaposed as two sides of the same coin. While Aventurine was a literal slave, his people wiped out Aventurine eventually gambling his way into the IPC to become a Stoneheart, his backstory doesn't actually differ that much from Topaz's. Remember: both of these characters are antagonists to our Crew when the audience learns their histories.

Topaz lost everything to the IPC. She's a kind of scary career woman nowadays, but you have to remember that her world was on the brink of collapse and her world's leaders sold their entire population to the IPC. While Topaz may come across as more well adjusted than Aventurine is, the IPC's main strategy is putting their victims in a position where they can't reasonably refuse. It's why Aventurine is such a good lapdog of theirs: since he's willing to bet everything in order to win. He's adept at playing desperate and risky. A lot of discussion of Topaz's character misses this coercion aspect of her backstory because of how it's framed.

The Topaz Interlude is less focused on Topaz herself and more on showcasing the dark side of the IPC. Topaz herself is put in a murky light: friend, foe, and unlikely ally all in one. Her arc in that interlude puts the theme in neon lights "IPC bad, they're solutions aren't necessary if people work together" and Topaz as the "villain" is then "Defeated" and she withdraws and takes the L, leading to her arrival in 2.1 alongside Jade for Aventurine's plan.

Arguably, Aventurine is worse than Topaz in a lot of day-to-day regards: he doesn't have Topaz's sense of compassion and desperate desire to do good, he's openly lying to the cast and doesn't care particularly about their safety, and is actively trying to put Penacony back in the hands of the IPC so they can turn it back into an interstellar prison. (We don't have time to explain why Prisons Are Bad. Go listen to Angela Davis and get back here.) His goals don't feel as evil because of several factors: the first being that HSR knows he has a tragic backstory and is milking it for all that it's worth. Dead parents? Dead sister? Dead culture? Enslavement leading to indentured servitude leading to a deathwish? They give him the game's first perspective shift so you're even more willing to empathize and sympathize with him and his plight, something they'd never do for Topaz, a character whose morality is considerably more conflicted and put on the spot.

Penacony is also a much darker locale than Belobog: when Topaz arrives on Jarilo-VI, we've already solved all of their conflicts (theoretically. we're trusting that bronya can fix all of the shit her mother wrecked), so Topaz arriving is a unifying force of characters we already know an like. Penacony is a lot darker, and you're already primed to distrust and dislike them since they're well. The Family. People who might be just as bad as the IPC. This creates a weird moral flip in the eyes of the audience if you're not paying enough attention: the plot isn't "Penacony bad, therefore IPC good now" it's pretty clearly "Penacony bad, IPC possibly even worse" and the fact that Aventurine has set them up to win should send shivers up the spines of the viewers. Does the Dreamscape deserve to exist? If the IPC gets their way, it won't matter what the answer is. And Aventurine has gone all in to make sure it's so.

#hsr #aventurine #ipc #topaz #you can totally say that topaz didn't get any fo this but aven did because he's a man btw. but I'm showcasing the story structures they use #to get you to that point: which if Topaz had gotten as well she'd be a considerably more sympathetic character and fan reaction-#-might have been less extreme

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magicalbats · 7 months

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Kinktober Day 11: Pet Play

Rating: R-18+

Word Count: 5711

Warnings: Afab!reader, coercion, abuse of power, exploitative dynamic, pet play/puppy play, vaginal fingering, humiliation/degradation, dubcon, use of ‘good girl’ and other gendered language

A/N: Sorry this one is late, I physically could not keep my eyes open to do the editing 😭

⭐

“This is an abuse of power, I hope you know that.”

Looking up at the low hiss, Al-Haitham casually moves his book aside to peer down at where you’re knelt on the floor. You can feel his eyes burning into you but refuse to actually bring your head up and look at him, far too embarrassed to meet his gaze. Just glimpsing the shift in your peripheral is almost enough to crumble your resolve and send you running from the room but you had an objective here. A goal you refused to back down from no matter to what frustrating lengths he went just to stonewall you so you fiercely maintain your position, even when your arms shudder and threaten to give out.

You couldn’t believe him. The nerve he had, putting you into this kind of situation! Not only was it a major abuse of power but also a punishable offense in the Akademiya’s code of conduct that would have escalated into quite a buzzing scandal were it not for the fact you had no one to turn to about it. Even if you did try to file a complaint it would just end up on his desk by the next morning and you would be worse off than you’d started.

You’d always thought the Grand Sage held far too much sway and authority over the Akademiya’s internal affairs with nothing to keep them in check, and Al-Haitham was just further solidifying that belief.

A long moment of terse silence settles over the still office, and you really don’t expect him to even dignify that assertion with a response when the only reason he was entertaining this in the first place was to prove a point. But then, to your dull surprise, he eventually draws an apathetic breath.

“No one is forcing you to do this, least of all myself. You’re welcome to gather up your belongings and leave at any time. It’s not like I’m holding you hostage or anything.”

You bark out a humorless laugh, bitter and strained. That was certainly easy for him to say when he was the one with all the control here. If the roles had been reversed, you were sure he would have been squirming too.

Well … maybe not. This was Al-Haitham you were talking about but that was hardly the point!

“I’m not leaving,” You grit, trying very hard to keep the tremor out of your voice. “Not until you sign that paper!”

Shrugging as if he really could care less, Al-Haitham returns to his book without a second thought to the matter. You curse him under your breath, rather creatively too, but it’s like he doesn’t even hear it. Completely unperturbed and eternally at ease, he just sits there in his high backed chair with one ankle crossed over the opposite leg while he reads — you steal a quick, harried glance at the title on the cover. The Compendious Book on Calculation by Completion and Balancing? Was that seriously what his mind was focused on right now?

Stamping down the urge to seethe through your teeth, you stiffly readjust the placement of your hands on the floor and try to distribute your weight more evenly. You probably shouldn’t have been surprised to end up in this situation after bursting into his office against your better judgment and prostrating yourself at his feet, begging for his signature and promising to do anything he asked in return. You’d expected, perhaps, monetary favors, personal debt, indentured servitude or maybe even transactional sex but this went far beyond what you could have ever anticipated.

He’d simply told you to stay like that. Nothing else and no further instructions. At first you’d thought this was just a bizarre precursor to an inappropriate sexual liaison with the Acting Grand Sage, that he was just far more perverted than you’d initially thought and he got off on having women kneel at his feet like some kind of brute. So you’d stayed like that, on hand and bended knee, but it was fast approaching an hour now and still he’d barely even looked at you, never mind made any kind of advance.

You were furious with him as much as yourself. But pride could be a funny thing and you were a bit too stubborn to give up now when you’d already stooped this low. Even if he stayed here all night reading his stupid book in perpetual silence you weren’t leaving until you got him to sign off on that damned budget request!

Unfortunately you were quickly losing strength in your arms and you gingerly rock back to settle more squarely on your knees, attempting to lessen some of the pressure. You grimace at the deep ache that throbs through your limbs as you try to discreetly roll some of the tension out with slow rotations of your wrists but it does little in the way of good, and you give a small hiss.

“You’re getting tired.” It’s a statement, not a question, and you nearly jolt right up off the floor in your surprise.

“I’m not!” Stubbornly, you return to your original position even when it makes the screaming tendons in your limbs cry out in protest. You couldn’t let him win. If you gave up now he’d just send you packing and that paper would never get signed. “Your book must be pretty dull if you’re still focused on me though. Maybe you should stop playing this silly game already and just give me what I came here for.”

Al-Haitham lowers his book to look at you again. “I’m playing a silly game?” Quietly scoffing, he lowers his arm altogether to let it rest across his bent knee with the book dangling towards the floor now. “Look, I don’t say this to discourage you but I’m really not sure what you think this is going to accomplish. I didn’t agree to anything nor did I make a bargain with you. You’re the one who decided to camp out here under the assumption that your obstinance would net you the result you wanted. Honestly I’m a bit surprised at how stubborn you’re being about this.”

“I need that budget sign off!”

“You might need it but that doesn’t mean you’re going to get it.”

You can’t quite stop yourself from snapping your attention up to gape at him. He couldn’t be serious! “How dare you talk to me like a child …”

With a slow, deliberate blink of his eyes, Al-Haitham tips his head to one side, looking for all the world like an observant predatory bird regarding its prey. “How else am I supposed to treat you when you’re acting like one?”

An affronted burst of sound comes out of you, but when you draw a sharp breath to snap at him nothing comes out. You’re just left with your mouth hanging open like a fool, so you slowly close it again and try to rein in your temper. You couldn’t let him get under your skin like this. The sooner he turned your own emotions against you the sooner you’d be sent from his office empty handed. Maintaining a level head even in the face of his infuriating attitude was likely the only thing that would see you through this standoff and, steeling your resolve, you narrow your eyes up at him.

“I’m not leaving until you give me your signature.”

“Do you really think you can outlast me?”

“If that’s what it takes, yes.”

A quiet beat passes over the room while he seems to consider that in his mind. Not that his typically unreadable expression told you much of anything, but he hadn’t returned to his book yet and his viridescent eyes had taken on a distant quality that would seem to suggest deep thought. You aren’t sure what he’s going to come back at you with — grudging acquiescence, just to get you out of his office, or a call for the guards to come and take you away by force — but it’s certainly not for him to sedately uncross his legs and lean forward, elbows bracing on his knees.

You go ramrod stiff, so shocked you can’t even find the wherewithal to properly react when he slouches down to look you square in the face and you abruptly realize just how close you really are. You’d never seen him from only a scant few inches away like this, the strong cut of his jaw and handsome brow catching you completely off guard. How had you never noticed how striking he was?

“Fine.” He intones, surprising you so much you have to do a double take.

“What?”

“I said fine. Since you want to play this game so badly, I suppose I’d be willing to meet you somewhere in the middle. Unless, of course, your precious budget isn’t worth the gamble?”

You realize what he’s doing immediately. It would have been a little hard not to when he was staring at you with those deeply impertinent eyes, just daring you to take the bait and see who came out on top. This wasn’t a compromise, it was a flat out challenge! He was so damn confident he could best you that the notion of having to actually sign off on your paper clearly wasn’t even a concern in his mind. You hated him for it, handsome or not, and you don’t try to hide it as you harden your expression.

“You’ve got yourself a deal, you bastard.”

“Alright.” Straightening up, Al-Haitham snaps the book in his hand shut to finally give you his full attention. “Take off your clothes.”

Your heart sputters and nearly extinguishes. “Excuse me?”

He actually has the audacity to quirk a brow at you, like you were the one with the problem, and you run even hotter than before. The nerve of him! But if that was how he wanted to be then fine, you would simply meet him head on and see who could really outlast who.

Teeth gnashing, you jerk your body upright and viciously tear at your robe to get it pulled up over your head before he can say anything else about it. You were so mad, so incredibly pissed at him that you nearly knock yourself off balance and tip over from how hard you yank your own clothes off. He wasn’t going to win, though. You would sooner jump into the endless ocean without a life preserver before ever admitting defeat to the likes of him!

Irritably tossing everything aside, you gradually work your way down to the bottommost layer but you don’t stop long enough to let it give you pause. Your silk chemise comes off with a snarl and then you’re tugging soft bloomers down so you can inelegantly kick your way out of them as well. Finally, you find yourself kneeling in the Grand Sage’s office, completely naked and chest heaving uncontrollably as you glare daggers at him still sat comfortably in his seat. But he just impassively looks at you as if he wasn’t in any way moved, neither impressed by your nudity or all that interested by the looks of it. Just another factor to humiliate you with.

“You forgot your shoes.” He says at last, and your blood pressure spikes so hard and so fast that you momentarily forget how to breathe.

Twisting around, you rip off one of your slippers so you can cock it back with every intention of sending it flying right at his smug face. But you barely have enough time to get your arm up before he suddenly grabs you by the wrist, halting the motion before you can follow through. Choking on your anger as much as your surprise, you watch him slowly rise from his seat so he can lean over you and put his face close to yours again.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” He tells you in such a bland, unconcerned tone that for a split second you’re not even sure if he’s actually being sincere or not. But then he expectantly holds up his unoccupied hand and you whither under that inscrutable gaze. “Give me the shoe.”

You desperately try to keep hold of your fiery rage but it sputters out quickly enough under his cool, mild temperament and you suddenly feel a bit silly — it was hard not to when Al-Haitham looked at you like that — and you obediently hand it over to him when he lets up his hold on your wrist. Feeling appropriately cowed, you ease back to sit on your haunches while he straightens up to his full, towering height to speculatively regard your shoe for a moment. Listless, you reach back and shove the other one off your foot without a care to where it may fall.

Finally, he looks at you again. “Back into position.”

A short beat of confusion marches through your mind before you realize what he wants, and your face quickly starts to heat up again. He was certainly pushing his luck today. And although you may not have had your anger to cling to anymore you still had your resolve, and it doesn’t abandon you even now. Grudgingly, you comply.

Shifting forward to brace on your hands and knees again, you settle into place before him even when it only seems to highlight your stark nudity. Your breasts sway softly with the motion, nipples puckered tight in the decidedly cool office, but you try your best to ignore it. Instead, you bring your head up, ready to snap at him — but his hand coming to rest on top of your head abruptly stops you in your tracks.

“Good girl.”

Your stomach lurches. What the hell did he think he was doing?

“Y - you — I don’t —“ You choke and stammer, unable to get so much as a single coherent sentence out, but he just … pets you. Idly rubs his (frustratingly) large hand over your head for a brief moment before pulling away without even a hint of shame to show for it. As if it was the most natural thing in the world for him to be doing and not incredibly, deeply belittling.

But if he recognizes the look of affronted disbelief on your face he certainly doesn’t show it and merely shifts back to settle his weight to one side. With your slipper still clutched in his fingers, you bitterly note.

“Now that we’ve established you can follow directions, here's how this is going to work. I’ll give you an hour of my time since you wasted one of yours hoping I’d change my mind about the budget paper. I don’t usually negotiate or give in to demands like this, but if you can show me you have the resolve to back up your beliefs with meaningful action then I’ll give you my sign off. Your field holds a great deal of potential but that was no small sum you asked for. I want to know if you can actually back it up or not.”

“And how am I supposed to do that?” You growl, feeling your temper start to spike again.

Without missing a beat the hand at his side shifts, gesturing towards the spot next to him with a quick snap of his fingers. “Come here.”

Your body gives a subconscious, angry little jerk at the sound but you bite your tongue, knowing if you allowed yourself to speak now you’d just flush everything down the toilet. It’s exceptionally hard to do when you knew too well what he was actually asking you to do, but you try to remind yourself what was on the line. Why you were even doing this in the first place. Any humiliation suffered would be well worth it once you got your hands on that budget and you could always deal with him later, after the next Grand Sage had been officially chosen.

Resigned, you silently rock forward and crawl the few paces across the floor, keeping your head down while making a valiant effort not to think about how ridiculous you must look in that moment. But he doesn’t react when you shuffle up to him, his expression as unreadable as ever when you chance a quick look. You almost ask what else he wants you to do and then a blood curdling thought occurs to you. He was rather blatantly treating you like a dog now, so did that mean he wanted you to come to heel?

Your motions are stiff with annoyance as you carefully readjust your position and spin around until your upper body is perfectly lined up with his legs, your hand resting a scant few millimeters from his boot. To your simmering annoyance, he once again bends down to give your head a rather condescending, if not impartial, pat.

“Good girl. Now sit.”

You shoot him a quick, dangerous look but still ease back to sit on your calves. That doesn’t quite seem to be enough for him though and, jaw clenched tight, you slowly straighten out of your hunched position to sit up, blushing red hot when it effectively presents your tits to the room.

Al-Haitham’s hand finds your head again and he murmurs another soft ‘good girl’ that makes you feel a million abstract emotions all at once. You can’t quite decide if you hate him it or not, and try to pull away with a half choked sound of annoyance. Luckily, (for you or him, you couldn't decide) he lets you twist from him without comment and you have to bite back the whimper that rises in your throat when he slowly straightens up to tower over you again. Alright, so this was perhaps even more deviant than making you kneel at his feet all day, and you feel the hot stab of embarrassment at that deep in your chest, but surely this was going a bit far, even for him?

“You don’t have to keep doing that …” You grumble, pointedly looking anywhere else in the room.

“Oh? And how else am I supposed to reinforce good behavior then?”

Your cheeks grow even hotter. “I am not a dog, Acting Grand Sage. Nothing needs to be reinforced!”

“I disagree. The way you burst in here was bad enough but then you took it upon yourself to try and force my hand when I wouldn’t give you what you wanted. That’s not how sensible adults behave. Clearly you lack training.”

Is that what this was? Correctional action? It was so absurd you almost laugh. You might have been out of line in coming here to try and strongarm him, but then what did the current situation say about his behavior? He had you naked, following his commands like a pet, and he didn’t see anything wrong with that? You’d never before known someone more absurd or audacious.

“Even if that were true, do you really think it’s your place to do the training?”

“For the next fifty-five minutes? Yes, it is.” Ignoring the incensed noise you make to that, Al-Haitham pivots his body to stand in front of you now, effectively swapping your starting positions. He’s so close you have to crane your neck back to look up at him but his expression remains as passive and disinterested as ever. “It’s a shame I didn’t have time to prepare anything for you beforehand.” He murmurs, more to himself than to you. “I think you’d look perfect wearing a nice collar and leash. Maybe something pink with a bow? I could probably even find a tail for you in a backroom of the bazaar somewhere.”

His words have their intended effect of making you squirm in place, flushing hot with shame at the mental image he’s instilled in you. For someone who didn’t even look all that invested in the first place, he sure was letting his imagination run wild. “In your dreams, you creep.”

He gives you another of those long, deliberately slow blinks. “Then let’s teach you a new trick. You’ll like that, I’m sure.” Lifting his hand just short of chest level, Al-Haitham gives his fingers another snap. “Beg, pretty girl.”

So gradually it feels like your skin is crawling, every single hair on your body stands on end until you feel vaguely like a puffed up, incensed cat. Your mouth works but nothing comes out around the simmering rock now lodged in your throat. Of all the upsetting things he’s said and done to you, this was somehow the worst yet — and the addition of ‘pretty girl’ certainly wasn’t making it any better.

“You - -!”

“Ah, ah. Not like that. Dogs can’t ask for things or yell at their owners, can they? Do it without using your voice.”

Another snap of his fingers has you seeing red. You didn’t understand how you were supposed to do this in a way that would satisfy him … and more to be cute than anything else, you stiffly bring your hands up and curl them into loose fists. To your surprise he nods once but doesn’t lean down to pet you or call you a good girl so you take that to mean he wasn’t quite satisfied with it yet. You had no idea what else he expected of you though. Trying to sit up a little straighter, jutting your tits out in the process, likewise doesn’t earn you his acknowledgement though and you soon start to panic. If you weren’t able to meet his expectations — whatever they were — he was just going to send you away. You had to think of something, quick!

“W - woof?” You try hopefully, genuine surprise washing over you when he allows himself the briefest smile.

“You’re getting there, but not quite. You just need to fix your position.”

Fix it? Fix it how!

It takes a long moment for it to sink in, the full weight of what he’s asking you to do, and you outright grimace at the thought that finally comes to mind. You couldn’t think of anything more embarrassing but, seeing what little choice you actually had, you carefully get your legs under you and then push up to balance on your feet in a leapfrog position. Still, though, that’s not enough to please him, and you start to feel well and truly like you might cry out of frustration. This was impossible. Considering who you were dealing with you probably should have anticipated as much but …

Al-Haitham abruptly shifts forward then and it makes you give a subconscious little twitch. To your wary confusion, though, all he does is lower himself down to crouch in front of you on the balls of his feet. “Like this. You need to straighten your spine, and sit nice and tall for me. You want to get my attention don’t you?”

Your face feels like it’s going to catch fire at any given moment. He sounded far too reasonable for someone making you debase yourself like this but even for as obtuse and arrogant as he was, you still trusted his word. Geniuses were usually a bit eccentric in one way or another but Al-Haitham, at least, was a man who didn’t misspeak (whenever he bothered to speak at all) so if he said this would get your paper signed you believed him.

You have to pause to steady your nerves before you do it but, at length, you finally push up to center your balance on the balls of your feet as well and then straighten your back. For good measure, you lift your hands to your chest and curl them into loose fists again, pinning him with a flustered yet plaintive look even when every fiber of your being was screaming at you to cover yourself. You can feel the air in the room waft against your bare cunt, acutely aware of how this humiliating position spreads your pussy lips slightly and bares you to his steady gaze, but you try very hard not to think about that right now.

“Good girl.” He finally relents, his usually bland tone softening almost imperceptibly, but it still stabs you in the gut as if he’d taken a knife to you.

Wavering, you force your legs to steady under your weight when he reaches out, heart pounding a wild, erratic beat inside your chest as you track the motion of his hand. A soft whimper bubbles up in your throat at the casual way he slips those long fingers between your spread thighs and ever so softly brushes them over your cunt. The slight nudge against your clit forces you to draw a steadying breath, so hot and jittery with nerves you start to feel faint. Although you’d half expected him to ask for sexual favors when you first forced your way in here, this was not quite what you’d had in mind …

It’s something far, far worse than what your imagination could have ever come up with, but you let him pet at you with unhurried strokes of his fingers, teasing over creases and folds as if to map out the feel of you through touch alone. His fingertips are blunt and surprisingly rough for a scribe, and it catches you off guard how your skin clings to him because of it. Your clit, especially, feels incredibly soft and pliant under his hand, and the periodic nudge against it makes your legs twitch with the urge to squeeze them shut.

“See? I knew you could follow directions …” Trailing off, Al-Haitham studies your face for a long beat with that perpetually unreadable expression of his. Like he was deliberating over what to embarrass you with next.

Shyly, you try to divert your gaze elsewhere so you won’t have to look directly at him but he’s knelt much too close. He takes up almost all of your field of vision no matter what you do, and your mouth drops open when he suddenly reaches further back to prod at your entrance.

“Now speak.”

Lightheaded and more than just a little dizzy now, you try to work out what he wants you to say — and then it hits you. Whining low in your throat, unable to hold it back, you shift to steady your faltering balance and subtly angle your cunt from him. “Wh - woof … woof, woof …”

Unhesitatingly, his fingers follow you and press up, just dipping into your body. You go stock still and shudder so hard you almost tip over, struggling to make sense of what’s even happening anymore. But true to nature Al-Haitham has no time or patience to waste on explanations, and he breaches your cunt at a tortuously slow pace that leaves you gasping for breath. The stretch that comes with his two fingers brings tears to your eyes, threatening to spill over when he finds slick waiting for him inside.

“Good girl. You’re being so well behaved for me now. Much better than your earlier foolishness,” Pausing at the first joint, he takes a moment to simply feel around and wriggle his fingertips, encouraging your pussy to open up for him and relax around the intrusion. The motion draws a soft, wet click from your body, and you all but whither right there in front of him. “You can ask for things without being such a brat about it. Good behavior will net you far better results anyway, and it will keep you out of trouble too. The next time you think about strong arming someone into giving you what you want, I hope you remember this … and if you ever need a refresher I’d be happy to give it to you.”

You don’t quite get the chance to fully process what he’s saying. His fingers angle further up, using the natural lubrication of your cunt to slide in a little deeper, and you throw your head back to seethe at the ceiling. He’s gentle about it but insistent and demanding at the same time, and your cunt slowly relents under the stilted pressure. The second joint stretches you open and then — he’s inside you, straight down to the knuckles. Swaying, your legs start to shake from maintaining this position when you wanted nothing more than to scuttle away from him as much as from the onslaught of sensation that comes with it. You felt faint. Delirious.

How were you possibly supposed to rationalize that the Acting Grand Sage was buried deep inside your pussy and your squeezing guts were actively trying to milk him dry?

“Beg, pretty girl. Let me hear you.”

Struggling just to breathe, you awkwardly shift on your feet and readjust the demeaning position of your hands where they’d started to droop. “Nnghn … w - woof woof … woof wo — oof!”

The startled sound punches out of you when Al-Haitham curls his fingers at such a hard, unrelenting angle it nearly pulls you off balance. Up towards your belly button, he briefly massages along the inner sleeve of your shuddering body until he finds the spongy nerve cluster he’s looking for. The pressure he exerts on it sends you to the very tips of your toes, a futile effort to escape the demanding attention, but he remains ever one track minded. Now that he's found it, he attacks the spot with merciless focus and the constant barrage makes your whole body twitch and tingle like you were a lit firecracker just waiting to explode. You hated it, the way he was turning your body against you like this, but there was no denying the innate reaction you were experiencing.

Your pussy practically floods around his fingers and the sticky suction rapidly increases under his ministrations until the attention grabbing click coming from between your legs seems to dominate the room. It even threatens to drown out your gasping, heaving moans as you helplessly rock on your feet, doing everything in your power just to stay upright. It’s a true test of willpower when your muscles were so taxed and aching, and the rapidly swelling pressure in your cunt certainly wasn’t helping either. But still, your stubborn pride won’t let you give up and, still, you were determined to beat him at his own game.

So you keep barking even when your breath is robbed from you, what was once hushed and begrudging noises meant only to signal your compliance quickly devolving into tiny little yips and pleasured groans. You couldn’t have stopped it even if you’d wanted to, and you no longer had the wherewithal to even keep up the pretense of not enjoying this on some level. It felt good, much to your horror and shame. You hated it as much as you hated him, but your baser instincts had effectively taken over and it sweeps you up in its current with a raging vengeance.

“That’s it. Cum for me, good girl.” He says, evidently recognizing the stricken look on your face for what it is. You think — in a far off, distant kind of way — that he must be out of his mind. That he was sorely mistaken if he thought you were going to climax for him, just like that.

But then he reaches up with his unoccupied hand and pinches one of your nipples, giving it a possessive little tweak, and you feel the tension in you become that much more unbearable. Reeling and gasping, you sensitively rock forward on your toes and try to angle your cunt away but it’s no use. He’s completely unrelenting, and your eyes start to roll back in your head as the tremors tear through you faster than you can even comprehend.

“Oh - oooh!”

“Archons, you’re soaking my fingers. If I’d known all you needed was some discipline, I would have done this much sooner.”

A little piece of your ego seems to chip away and dissolve when your quaking hips give a stiff jerk at that, and your pussy clamps down around him so fiercely it almost hurts. And just like that the pressure tips. You fall over the edge into an uncontrollable fit of spasms, your orgasm rocking you straight down to your core. But even in the throes of your wild release you’re still acutely — horrifically aware of the moment your cunt gives under the pressure and squirts slick all over his hand and wrist.

Suddenly your pleasure is ripped from you, instantly replaced with a suffocating, reeling sense of shock and disbelief even as you helplessly judder through the remainder of your orgasm. Tipping your head down to take a numb look at the space between your legs, hardly even daring to believe it, you feel a chill rush over you at the wet stains you see on the lush carpet. There was no way …

Gradually, Al-Haitham eases up on his fingers when you start to go still, just eyeing your face with that inscrutable look for a long, quiet moment that’s interspersed only by your labored breathing. He doesn’t say anything at all as he slowly withdraws them from your body, ignoring the way you grimace and seethe at the resulting sticky slurp, but he does manage to take you by surprise when he reaches up to help steady you by the shoulders. You reluctantly accept his help, a little too shell shocked to maintain your attitude when it seemed like all you could do just to keep yourself together. And to your great relief he carefully helps you sink down to sit on the floor, which you do with nothing short of immense, overwhelming relief.

It felt like your legs would never work properly again after crouching like that for so long, and that was to say absolutely nothing of your pride. What was even left of it.

“You did well.” He suddenly says, prompting you to bring your head up to look at him.

Despite your reservations, you allow yourself a slow, hopeful smile. “Does this mean you’ll sign off on my request now?” You venture to ask in a thin, trembling voice.

“No. Not yet. You’ve still got another thirty minutes, I’m afraid.”

Groaning, you drop your head and try not to scream. How you hated this man!

⭐

Crossposted: here

#genshin impact #al haitham #al haitam x reader #self insert bullshit

227 notes · View notes

bitchlessdino · 3 months

Text

Would you like a receipt? Pt. 2

Part 2 of my Valentines collaboration with @svthub hosted by my wifey @wongyuseokie thank you so much for creating this collab, we love you so much. here is part two in case you missed it pt. 1 Pairing: Childhood bf!junhui x working class afab!reader Genre: fluff, slight angst, slice of life, smut Word count: 4.3k tags: mentions of alcohol, adult activities under the influence, second chances, exes to ???, childhood friend/boyfriend!junhui, teasing, unprotected sex, soft turn needy jun, biting Summary: Coming across a grade school ex-boyfriend while you worked a shitty seasonal job around Valentines was not in your 2024 bingo card. author note: finally to my dear valentine @skyechild. it feels like so long since i wrote a fully fledge smut and i'll be producing more. I hoped you've enjoyed it mio, happy valentines day again 💘

Tag: @shiningstar-byulxx @misssugarlips @tommolex @hoeforhao @homerunhansol @dkakapizzaboy @junhui-recs @svtup @buffhoshi @meowmeowminnie @caratochan @lovebot4han @6969lilithcat @camisun93 @emmmui @toruro @jeonride @novalpha @nvmrljk @feat-sun @tinkerbell460 @aaniag @tacosandbitch

Your relationship with Junhui ended when he abandoned you.

Of course, you remember him. He is the first guy you’ve ever dated and all of a sudden in the height of your relationship he mysteriously moves away without a trace. You were left in the dust, wondering what it was for him to leave you alone without warning, much less a goodbye. Back then, neither of you had the privilege of owning a cell phone nor any other way to contact each, even so, how would you call god knows who where?

Despite the abrupt and unexplained departure, hope flickers within your tiny eleven-year-old heart; an inkling whispers that you might cross paths again. However, the reality your adult self faces is starkly different from the innocent optimism of your youth. Those hopes of reuniting in fruitful harmony died along with your dreams of living out dreams beyond reality. You know better than that now. However, meeting him again, unexpectedly, reopens old wounds for the same reasons that severed your connection years ago, yet at the same time also opens up new possibilities you have yet to discover about yourself.

“I know you have every right to hate me.”

“What’s there to hate you for? Something came up. That’s fine.”

You busy yourself with your work a day after Valentine's during the lunch hour, which you woefully choose to take. You say woefully once the doors are open and the singular customer you come across is the very man that left you hanging all of last night. His eyes round with guilt, he strides right towards you, and nothing but apologies spill from his lips.

You are usually a person to hold a grudge–with your background of servitude and duty, you have no luxury to–but Jun seems to bring out that side of you. That childish side that you’ve repressed for so long. The kind that hoped their parents would take them to the carnival and pay for overpriced popcorn and cotton candy.

"I understand you might harbor some…resentment towards me, and you have every right to feel that way."

You scoff under your breath. "What's there to hate me for? Things came up, and that's perfectly acceptable."

"It's not fine." Jun trails behind you as you briskly navigate the aisles, replenishing the missing items, all while avoiding his eyes. The fluorescent lights hum overhead, casting a sterile glow on the shelves, and his shadow shades over any shelf you stand in front of–constantly in your line of vision. "I should have given you an earlier heads-up. You waited for me."

You meticulously scan the shelves, your fingers deftly selecting items with practiced efficiency, nonchalantly proceeding with work. "And I went back home; it's okay. Have a good day, sir. Remember, only paying customers are allowed in the store."

Immediately, Jun hastily seizes several boxes of candy, the crinkling of plastic punctuating the sudden flurry of movement. His fingers fumble slightly as he attempts to maintain composure, but the visible tension in his posture betrays his true emotions. He carries the candy with him as he trails behind you, a silent acknowledgment of his disrupted intentions. "I'll be buying these, don't worry."

You expel a loud sigh, the weariness evident in your demeanor, before retreating to the counter. There, you rest your arms against it in annoyance, the cool surface providing a brief respite. "Junhui, you're not buying these."

“Yes, I am.”

A challenging exchange unfolds between you, and Jun leans in, determination flickering in his eyes. You cross your arms. "What will get you to leave?"

“I’ll leave…if you tell me you never ever want to see my face again. That you wish me the worst and you truly want me out of your life.”

You fixate your gaze on him, a long moment passing as you process the weight of his terms and conditions.

“I never ever want to see your face again. I wish you the worst, and I truly want you out of my life.”

A moment of silence hangs heavily, and Jun lets linger longer than it should. “...I’ll be honest, I didn't think you’d actually do it.”

You offer a nonchalant shrug, your face maintaining a stoic expression. "Well."

His smile fades, and he retrieves his wallet with a subtle sense of resignation. A handful of bills gracefully leave their sleeves, and he places them gently on the counter before you. "Then, I'll leave. The candy is for you.”

As he takes tentative steps toward the exit, the atmosphere thickens with unrelieved tension. He can't resist the urge to steal glances back at you every few seconds, revealing the inner turmoil that accompanies his departure. The weight of unspoken words and unresolved emotions hangs between you like a translucent veil, urging you to let him go, yet a lingering hesitation looms in the air.

“I can’t eat all this candy,” you mutter from behind the counter, your gaze meeting his with a blend of understanding and resolve. The subdued lighting from the overhead fluorescent lights casts a muted glow on the scene, intensifying the bittersweet nature of the moment. It's as if the very atmosphere is a canvas, painting the emotional undertones of a strained encounter.

He attempts to suppress a grin, the corners of his lips betraying a flicker of amusement. "Keep them, give them away. Whatever you want." You lightly flick at the edge of one of the candy boxes. The faint rustling of plastic emanates from the candy boxes, their contents cascading over each other in an unstable tower reaching the height of your chin, yet somehow its stands tall.

"You should take some, considering you bought it anyway."

He glances back at the candy, hesitating for a moment before responding. "Then I'll get it later." His hands hover over the door handle, caught in the indecision of departure before a ghost fo a smile appears on his lips. “When I come back.”

The ambient sounds of the store, the soft hum of the air conditioning, and the intermittent creaks of the floor fills the deafening silence. The door handle finally yields to his touch, and the door opens with a muted chime. He steps halfway through, still tethered to the threshold. The quiet rustling of the candy boxes accentuates the pause, and he turns back to you, a question lingering in his gaze. The fluorescent lights overhead continue to cast their gentle glow, creating a subdued ambiance that amplifies unspoken tension that you tried damn hard deescalating.

A beat passes, and you nod towards the candy. "Okay. When you come back." The words hang in the air as a subtle invitation. With a final nod, he steps out, the door closing softly behind him, leaving you in the quiet aftermath with the candy boxes.

Uncertainty takes residence in your thoughts, including the consideration that perhaps you meant to reunite with Junhui. You still have shattered pieces of your youth, reminding you he has the power to hurt like he’s done before. Yet, a weariness settles in—a weariness with the familiar routine, the predictability that has defined your interactions. Throughout your life, your every move has been strategic, a means of survival for yourself and your family, driven by the imperative to secure their well-being. Maybe it's time to defy convention and take it back to your roots, do what present-day you wouldn’t dare do.

You meet as expected, coming out of your work in your casual attire usually hidden behind an obnoxiously loud candy sales apron, muted in colors that paired well with the night. Junhui stands before you, a bundle of roses–bigger than you’ve ever seen–is hold up with endless ribbon and his iron grip. “A cliche, but I figured you were overdue one. This obviously doesn’t make up for anything–”

“I appreciate it,” you interrupt. “It’s the kindest thing someone’s ever done for me to be honest.”

“Well, good,” he grins, “But I have much more planned.”

It’s funny. The last thing you expect on thursday–the day after valentines–is to be on an helicopter several thousand feet in the air overlooking the town and their handful of buildings in every corner. You look as if discovering color for the first time with the bright lights under your feet looking like stars, insignificant yet blinding where you sat. You glance over at Junhui in shock as he smiles at your amazement, finding you the most profound thing he’s seeing tonight.

Dinner is given, considering that was the original plan, but dinner in the nicest restaurant a town over with a private room to yourselves isn’t. Junhui, stylish in a simple navy button-up and lack of blazer left in the aircraft with no remorse, picks through with chopsticks his perfectly cooked wagyu steaming from the scorchingly deliciously broth that coats it before putting it in his mouth.

You follow after him, not forgetting to dip rich and decadent flavors the sauce he personally curated for you. Having only ever eaten to survive, you’ve never had hot pot before and Junhui looks as if he’s an expert.

“The way I will miss this every day the moment dinner is over,” you pick up sauce from the corner of your lip with your tongue, a film of umami dancing on your tastebuds.

“I still can’t believe you’ve never had hot pot before,” Junhui expresses in disbelief. “You have not lived until a molten piece of wagyu melts in your mouth.”

“Yeah,” you softly chuckle knowingly. “Out of my price range most days, if I’m being honest.”

“Right. Just kind of the life I always knew, I hope I get to share it with you more.”

Your eyebrow raises by a fraction. “More?”

An airy laugh escapes from Junhui's lungs as he picks up another piece of perfectly cooked Wagyu and places it on your plate. “More.”

You swallow a lump in your throat, following the delicious gift bestowed on your plate before facing him. You don’t know why your hands are clammy, you’re just having dinner in a restaurant you wouldn’t otherwise know about in another town dropped off in a fucking helicopter. “Jun. I didn’t come here to rekindle a relationship from when we were kids.”

His hands falter, dropping strength as he picks up his food. “I know…I was just. I was just happy to see you.”

“Really? Then why did we part like that?”

“Like what?”

“Without a goodbye.”

A look of resolve washes over his flawless complexion, “…I didn’t expect it either. My parents made it their life’s mission to give me the life that they thought I deserved and wanted. To them, that meant a life without, well, anything short of the best. Whatever made our family looked good.”

You fork through your food, a mixture of curiosity and frustration etched across your face. “You could’ve at least told me.”

“I didn’t know we were going until we flew off. I wish I had, I would’ve stopped that plane at all costs. Come back to this town for work, thinking everything’s changed. Then I saw you, I was ecstatic. Like, a piece of me still left behind in this town.”

You laugh in disbelief. “Jun, you’re joking. I’m not anybody.”

“You were the last real friend I had. The last authentic relationship I had with anyone my age. All business, no pleasure. When I left, I was trained day and night, molded into this perfect model exec. Perfect to continue my family’s business. Well, almost perfect.”

Your gaze lingers on him, unraveling the layers of his confession that starkly contrast with his captivating exterior. His chocolate hair is illuminated by the light of the dangling chandelier, his body is hugged by the luxurious cotton as if it were a second skin. Despite the opulent surroundings, the genuine humility he exudes speaks volumes about his character. He is perfect.

"Well, you seem to be pretty damn perfect from where I'm standing."

He shakes his head, putting another piece of meat on your plate, followed by a piece of shrimp. “That’s far from it. It’s funny you’ve gotten to see it all. Me messing up. I try not to let that happen to often.”

“So Valentine’s Day��it was all because of work?”

He nods, a subtle grimace betraying the weight of his responsibilities. “The one and only dreaded mistress.”

Junhui has worked all of his life until this moment, even in his desperate escape from reality. It’s a weight on his shoulders, constantly beckoning at him for his attention, and somehow having their vice grip on his collar. He knows it's unhealthy, but it’s all he’s ever known. All the socialite dinners, the charity events, the several hours long meetings on a daily basis. It’s the life he has always lived.

Then comes you, someone a sight for sore eyes. Age obviously has had its way with you but it did not rid you of your grace or gentle gaze. You had that look even young. Someone who only spoke of kindness and sincerity, even now with him, who stood you up hardly 24 hours ago. He could at least make up for it. He wasn’t sure if it was to you or himself.

The clinking of silverware against plates punctuates the conversation, the atmosphere heavy with the unspoken. The restaurant buzzes from the crack of the door, oblivious to the palpable remorse for a relationship–even friendship–that cease to exist in your private room.

“She isn’t good to you?”

“She’s…demanding. Do you remember when that kid Wonwoo stole your juice box without looking and every day after for the rest of the year?”

You scowl, recalling the glasses-dependent little boy. "What a brat. I couldn't stand him."

Jun laughs, sensing the lightheartedness in your tone. “Kind of like how he stole something you love, your favorite apple juice, that’s what work has done to me: stolen my happiness at the end of the day. It’s…exhausting.”

“I understand that. I’m in a similar situation. Working to live is what all we can do nowadays.”

Junhui holds up his drink for you to clink. “Fuck adulthood, am I right?”

You grin, lifting the glass. “Let’s not talk about work then. To live the night to the fullest.” Your cups clank and you drink your first of many glasses of wine of the night.

You end up relearning about Junhui, hearing about his likes, dislikes, dreams, and what he’d do if he wasn’t him. It’s strange. You don’t go on dates but here you are with Junhui, one of the most interesting men you’ve ever met and you’re enjoying yourself. You’re enjoying his presence.

Perhaps you’re enjoying it too much.

Your work clothes find themselves on the floor, your arms dangling from from his taut body to feel the tension of his muscles gather your flesh in his grasp.

How did you get in his apartment? You swear up and down that you had just been in the restaurant.

You gasp as his lips find your neck, cascading kisses over your skin and his hands find the fullness of your thighs. Your hands run through his hair with reckless abandon, tugging from the root and breathing against his ear. You feel a shudder run down his spine and he lifts you off the ground, wrapping your legs around his waist as you’re enveloped in soft giggles.

You utter his name in a heated whisper, feeling the friction of his bulge against the plush of your stomach. You grasp his face, looking into his eyes that were blown out from lust, and trace over his features wordlessly. A hint of a smile creeps against his mouth before reuniting with you in a liplock, softly giggling against your lips.

“You taste like wine,” he presses a tender kiss, “I like it.”

“You’re just a little drunk,” you sweetly respond, squealing as you meet with the cushion of his mattress adorned in the most lush sheets. His playful gaze peers over you in piqued interest, kneading into your flesh as he ravishes your body, eliciting moans that delight him to the point of hardening.

You feel it swelling under your palm and you find yourself smiling, drunk on not substance but fantasy, as in this moment, it feels like you are living in a dream. At this moment, you’re not working multiple part-time jobs to make ends meet and send money to your family. You’re living. There's no pressure, only bliss; and right now, bliss is being in Junhui’s touch.

His clumsy yet gentle hands strip you to your skin, slipping you out of your straps and embracing every inch of your body. You reciprocate, roaming his body in light strokes, taking him by his hips.

“Are you sure about this? Are you sure about me?” Junhui cautiously asks, fingers threading through your hair.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything,” you respond, voice laced with ease.

You extend your arms, beckoning him to come closer, but you sense the tension in his muscles. Worry graces his eyes as he hesitates, and he voices his uncertainty, saying, "I'm not sure if you are."

“Junhui…” your hands caress his arms, goosebumps pebbling his skin. “I want you so bad.”

“I want you too.” His legs anchor on either of your sides, towering over you. “I don’t think I wanted anything—anyone as badly as I want you.”

His words sober you up, oxygen stolen from your lungs. Your lips parted for nothing to come out, a wordless ponder in what he had meant. You slip off his grasp with his gentle release, his head bowing down in view. “But I shouldn’t do this. Not in your state.”

“But—“

“I shouldn’t have even gotten this far, but I’ll be holding myself back from now on.”

He picks himself up, and the draft immediately hits your flushed skin. He picks up your abandoned clothes and tucks them under his arm before making his way to a wardrobe. He pulls out a set of silk pajamas and sets them at the end of the bed. “I’ll wash your clothes and you can sleep in these. They might be a bit big, but they’ll be comfortable.”

You’re speechless as he walks away, disappearing behind the heavy door of the bedroom you’re left alone in. You weren’t sure how to feel. Unwanted. Betrayed. Disappointment. However, sleep offers no time for deliberation, and the amalgamation of fatigue and alcohol becomes a potent concoction for slumber. Lost in the enveloping darkness, your body succumbs to the overdue rest. Resolving to deal with it in the morning, you surrender to the oblivion of sleep.

It’s a morning unlike any other, starting with the fact you decide not to be at work today like you should’ve been, but you’d soon regret that later. That thought is interrupted by Junhui bringing you breakfast, setting it on the bedside table to take the space by you. “Did you sleep well?”

You slowly nod, emerging from the sheets you’ve found temporary comfort in.

“I left you some hangover medicine, just in case.”

“Thanks, Jun.”

“And I’m sorry for leaving you here by yourself. I wasn’t sure if I could handle being alone with you in a room.” He shifts in bed, weight dropping deeper into the mattress. “I’m glad I stopped things before we–I did something I’d regret.”

“...I wouldn’t have regretted it.” The bed sheets fall past your thighs to reveal your bare legs, cool air brushing against your warm flesh. You notice how his eyes lower to your exposed skin, his hand visibly tingling with urge.

Words hitch in Junhui’s throat before he clears it, speaking as he averts his gaze. “Still. That would’ve been a very, very bad idea.”

"That's very considerate of you," you say, inching closer to him. “Wish you were considerate enough to wake me up early enough to go to work, though.”

Guilt sweeps across his features, he releases a soft chuckle of disbelief. “I skipped out on work too. Guess we’ll both be in some load of trouble.”

“Best we make it worth it, right?”

Food would not saite the hunger in your body. It craves much more than it can offer. Junhui only knows half an idea of what that is.

You quickly pick up where things were left off from last night, finding yourself topping over him with purpose, meeting his lips in a feverish frenzy, and finding that sense of abandonment. Junhui, lost beyond comprehension in your heat, takes only a split second to compose himself and undo his clothes as you undo yours. Warm familiarity swells his chest touching your skin as his fingers dig in your hips. He sighs against your lips and all he can think about is making up for lost time.

“Gosh, you’re so big, Jun.” Your hand runs along his shaft, gliding it against the slit of your heat. Jun inhales, latching around your vicarious wrist, catching the subtle darkness in your eyes that halts the saliva running down his throat. “C-condom?”

“I’m safe. Don't worry,” you let out, a sultry laugh to follow.

“I figured, but the other thing?”

“I’m protected from that too,” you whisper, grinning. “Anything is on the table.”

His face reminds you of strawberries and cream, sweet and red. He lowers his gaze timidly, unable to suppress his smile, almost too precious not to bite into. Almost.

You press his cock between your folds, letting your heat melt around him and you mewl over his size. He softly moans caressing your shape and letting you have control as your teeth nip at his shoulder. The cushion of your thighs crushes around his body in an iron grip, working him between your walls.

You lift your upper body for display, kneading your breasts that’s used to the constant confinement of a 12-hour work day before guiding Junhui to join you. Eagerly, he follows, feeling your flesh spill through his hands, your nipples growing stiff as he twists them between the pads of his fingers. Stars in his eyes, he instinctively thrusts up you, and stuffs his cock deeper back in you, watching the plushness of your body land safely back into him.

You stumble to maintain your form, utterances of religion on your tongue. You lick your lips and latch to every inch of his throbbing hunger. His name comes out in choked breaths, complimenting him without the prestige vocabulary, and you grind into him until he disappears inside you. Your eyes flutter in contentment, the kindling fire in your abdomen burning a bright glow.

“Shit…”

Junhui a hand claims the back of your neck, pushing your head down until he meets your lips once again. It’s so gentle yet lustful, almost like love, but you know to suspect otherwise.

In an instant, he flips you on the bed, landing you on your side. Your body, experiencing too much ecstasy to protest, allows Junhui to take reign and is pleasantly surprised with his choices.

“I swear I have more self-control,” He defends before his hand gingerly makes its way between your legs, and the pads of his fingers find your clit in a sensual caress. “Just…just not today.”

Your arousal creates a film of sex on his fingers, building pleasure as his cock regains his paces, fucking into your steady, controlled rhythm. It’s delicious, tantalizing, and makes your back arch at every thrust, but you know he’s holding himself back. You know there’s more in him.

“More, Jun…”

“Too…soon…”

He bites his grunts into your side, sandwiching you between him and the mattress, and he ruts into you only a fraction harder. His patience has you desiring for more, compelled to lure him into a drastic reveal of his inner demons. Your head turns to him, eyes oozing in need and conviction, and you softly jut out your lip to plead. “Please, Jun…”

“I’ll cum…too soon…” he whines.

You force your hand, then your hips, slamming back against him, needy and desperate. It's filthy with the look in your eyes, the bounce against his lap, the blood rushing over Jun’s whole body down to his disciplined cock. His length runs along the slick of the walls, the walls that feel only narrower as he grows bigger. He swears under his breath he can’t take it, fucking you loud and clear until the clash of your skin was comparable to the sound of drums.

Before Junhui is determined to savor every thrust, now he only wishes to seek a newer form of enlightenment in every inch of your body. Your hands ball into the sheets, gaining a foundation, and your eyes start to roll back into your skull, now you savoring every hasten jerk of his hips. No longer delicate and kind, but relieving yet electrifying.

You embrace every corner of him until your climax explodes like a bomb, traveling to all parts of your body and you can no longer recall where you are. Your legs spasm, toes curling, hips writing, and it doesn’t stop. Not for a while.

Junhui hardly notices as he’s lost in his own pleasure, your swollen clit between his fingertips. Your voice muffles as it falls against the sheets, although he expects them to be incoherent as he is now with only sex on his mind.

Eventually, his gut tightens, a surefire sign that it would soon enough come. His arms crush around your body as he lifts you against him. He pounds deep and hard into you, your pleasured sounds of ache growing smaller as his thrust does, and he floods every ounce inside you. He hears your shattered breath against his ears, unearthing his own before his body limps and falls over on the bed.

Both of you needed escape for your own reasons, reasons being much similar than you realize. Now all that left is breakfast, and the ponderance of what’s to become of this after. One suspects more to come, seeing this as only the beginning of something different, maybe even good. The other is ready to face reality, go back to daily routine, and do what’s needed to be done.

Unsurprisingly, you are the latter.

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ms-fade · 6 months

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The favorite.

Street!Rat!Izuku Midoriya x Chubby!Prince!Reader. 18+ Drabble.

Ask: For my request, can you write a oneshot featuring Izuku and a chubby male reader in an Aladdin AU with chastity and servitude please? In the fic, Izuku is a street rat who becomes a harem boy to the reader who's a prince.The prince takes a liking to Izuku and offers him food and wealth on the condition that Izuku serve him and be kept in a cock cage.

Warnings: MxM, C*ckcage, Harem, Slight SlavexMaster, Collars, short. Izuku is 19 and reader is 21.

Izuku was a lonely boy who roamed the streets for work and food, stealing on occasion. His mother was sick and needed the most attention so the rest of their life saves went to her medical care and left them scrounging around. He loved his mother so he did everything for her. He worked hard jobs that meant he wouldn’t come home for days without sleep. Until one day his luck ran out and started.

“What did I tell you boy.” The merchant yelled at Izuku as he laid on the stone street. He had been caught stealing a loaf of bread, and not the first time he had done it either. “I should cut off your hand for this. I know it has been you stealing from my store,” the man raised his hand to give him another hit to match the blood lip he already had. A strong hand grabbed ahold of the merchant and caused a groan in pain at the force.

“That is no way to treat someone,” izuku looked at the person that came to his rescue. A large man that hide behind a cloak. His face chubby but handsome as could be, soft skin with no dirt. “May I pay for the man?” Izuku eyes followed his hands that reached behind the cloak and pull out a large coin purse. His eyes widened at the sight, this man was wealthy and not just the money gave it away. His hands showed nothing rough or any cuts on them, showing no sign of a days work.

The man slammed it into his hands with a hard slap but a smile on his face. “You should go back into your shop now, no need to cause less trouble.” His tone didn’t match the look on his face. The merchant rolled his eyes and rubbed his now sore hands and went back into his stop leaving the two of them. Izuku watch him step closer and offer him a hand to pull him up.

That’s when it all started.

He was offered everything his heart desired. Money for his family or the things he wanted. Gifts everyday. The most fashionable clothes to wear and the best food one could have, all for a small price. The man who saved him was the prince of the kingdom who wanted the boy for his harem of men and woman. To belong to the prince. With the offer he was promised his mother to be looked after by the best doctors he could find from all over the world. So he took it.

But his role was just beginning and he fully was owned by the Prince Y/n. A golden collar stayed around his neck at all times with red and silver jewels. It was heavy but bearable. He wore silk and lace blue outfits that showed off his chest and skin. He was bathed every day and dinned on the finest food. And at the end of the night we was called to the princes chambers. But the collar wasn’t the only cage he wear.

“My pretty boy,” thick fingers ran over the boys lips. Izuku whined under the touch from the man above him. “Look at you, your cock is so red and aching to be released.” The prince coo’d at his lover. The bigger man towered off him with a chubby but broad build, so much larger then izuku.

The thick cock inside of him was making him limp and weak, begging for a release from the cock cage on his own. “Please.” The sweet whimper leaving his lips made the prince smirk down at him. A jolly chuckle came from his throat as he pushed izukus knees into his chest, making his cock slid farther in.

“Oh, fuck.” Izuku closed his teary eyes as the tears rolled from the sides. His head lifted up and his back arched at the feeling. “You know,” the prince started and leaned down and began to trust again into his hole.

“You are my favorite.” Y/n licked his ear and kept his pace fast and rough making izu scream and hum in pleasure. “I treat you so well, get better things then the rest. Makes you feel special doesn’t it?” His big hand played with the metal on the cage around izukus cock making him twitch.

No answer was heard from izuku as he tried not to break underneath his prince and keep his composure. If he knew how good the prince could make him feel he would have offered himself a long time ago.

“Awe, come on.” Izukus cheeks were grabbed and pushed together by a strong hold. “All you have to do is take my cock and you get the things people would die for. Tell me how thankful you are.” The princes eyes glared slightly and the roughness on his voice stood out.

Izuku opened his eyes and looks at him, a weak look on his faces from pleasure. “S’good. Treat me so good, I’m forever thankful.” He cried. “Fuck me well too, all I could ever want.” The prince buffed out his chest making his chubby stomach stand out. Izuku loved the prince’s stomach and in these moments he couldn’t get enough, the sight of it pressed against him made him so close.

The prince was happy with that answer and began to lift his hips up and tried to get himself as far as he could. Izuku was his and filling him to the brim was all the prince could think about. When he was with the others it was izuku’s name that feel from his lips.

The street rat had won his way up in the world all from taking a cock.

#izuku midoryia smut #izuku midoriya x chubby reader #izuku midoriya smut #izuku smut #izuku x reader #izuku midoriya x male!reader #izuku midoriya x male reader #x male reader #sub!izuku #sub!izuku midoriya #smut #my hero academia smut #izuku midoriya x reader

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ellethespaceunicorn · 1 year

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Hold Me Til I Scream For Air To Breathe

Rating: Explicit, 18+, Minors - DNI

Pairing: Sub!Clark Kent x Domme!Reader

Word Count: 1.7K

Summary: For @sillyrabbit81’s follower milestone celebration; Clark needs to give over to his submissive urges, specifically he yearns to be tied up and owned.

Prompt [screenshot at the end]: Slow & Romantic, Tied Up, Clark Kent

Warnings: Subby Clark should be considered a warning, rope bondage (Shibari), poorly hidden Anakin Skywalker quote, oral sex (f/m receiving), cum swallowing

A/N: Unbeta’d, we die like people who tried their best. [I promise I am working on Bright Like The Moon still, but Sub!Clark though!]

Dividers by: @firefly-graphics

Support/Reblog banner by me

My Masterlist

It had been days of him dropping hints. He was sending me links to shibari websites, referring to me as Miss without provocation, and kneeling at my feet when I entered a room.

The man was relentless, but I understood it perfectly when he explained it over dinner. He was calm and collected, but I’m sure it took all of the Kryptonian’s strength not to melt.

“I save people all of the time, it feels nice to be so needed. It feels amazing to be in control, don’t get me wrong,” He looks at me while rising from his chair and coming to kneel next to mine, “But I want to relinquish control. I want someone else to have power over me. I want you to own me, Miss. Please, will you help me?”

His politeness always went straight to my pussy. This man could hold the planet but needed to feel protected, I could do that. “I’ll help you, Clark. On one condition.”

“Anything,” he whispers, already slipping into submissive mode.

“You give yourself over to me completely. From this moment on, until you can’t take any more, and I’ll be the judge of that, you are mine to do with whatever I please. Do you understand?” I ponder aloud, my hand ghosting across his jawline.

“Yes, Miss. I understand that you are in control,” he breathes, his blue eyes blazing in the low light of the dining room. Damn, he is such a good little sub already.

“Good boy,” I hum, running my fingers through his curls. Now, I expect a response and when I didn’t get one, I let him know what happens when he does the wrong thing. Grabbing a fistful of his hair and tightening my grip, I growl in his ear. “I didn’t hear a thank you.”

“Thank you, Miss. I’m sorry, Miss,” he whimpers, eyes remorseful.

“Now he gets it,” I purr, releasing my grip on his hair. “You’re going to go to the guest room. You’re going to crawl on your hands and knees. When you get there, you’re going to strip completely and wait for me. When your head is down and your hands are resting on your thighs, I’ll know you’re ready to begin. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Miss, I understand,” he affirms, looking down in servitude.

“Good boy,” I beam, getting up to stand over him, “Go on then, show Miss that you can follow directions.”

“Yes, Miss,” he says, hands going to the floor in front of him as he begins to crawl on his hands and knees through the house, looking for all intents and purposes like a cat stalking after prey. But this time, I was the predator. Watching his shoulder blades shift through his tight dress shirt, his perfect ass swaying in those perfectly tailored dress pants. The man was a vision of lust. And I was ready to tear him apart.

In truth, I did make him wait for just a hairsbreadth longer than I intended to. I took my time getting ready, slipping into some new lingerie Clark had never seen and dabbing his favorite scent on my wrists and neck. I grab the rope and my Hitachi and put on my highest stilettos. I walk slowly to the guest room, letting the click of my heels alert him that I was coming.

Entering the room, I see Clark kneeling with his back to the bed. Head down, hands resting on his thighs. My sub is so good at following the rules. And by the way his cock hangs heavy between his legs, I can tell he is beyond excited to start.

“Such a good boy, waiting so patiently for me,” I purr, stalking over to him and placing one hand within his curls and one on his cheek, “We have a few things to go over and then we can get started, ok baby?”

“Yes, Miss,” he acknowledges his understanding, turning to my hand to kiss my palm.

“That brings us to Rule #1: You don’t get to touch unless I give you permission. I will allow you this one mistake, but be clear that is the only one. Rule #2: You cum when I say you do, no sooner or later. Rule #3: If I ask you what color, you respond with green for good, yellow for slow down, or red for stop. Do you understand these rules?” I step back and raise his chin so he can look me in the eye.

“Yes, Miss, I understand these rules,” he sighed, pupils blown and wild.

“Good boy. To make sure Rule #1 is followed to the letter, I’m going to take away your ability to use your hands. May I begin to restrain you?”

“Yes, Miss,” he agrees, watching me as I pick up the red rope I brought into the room with me.

“Good boy. Stand for me so I can tie your chest and arms,” I croon, waiting until he was at his full height to kiss and nip at his jawline as I untwined the rope slowly.

I find the tails of the rope, holding onto the bight, and begin to tie the Shinju harness across his broad chest. As I tighten the rope every so often, I also tease Clark’s nipples with the soft pads of my fingers. I lean in and lick and bite at his pectoral muscles until he squirms. I connect his arms to the harness, keeping them straight to emphasize his chest as he is forced to stand straighter. I finish and stand back to look at my work.

“We both know you can get out of the rope if you need to. But in keeping with the rest of the night, I’m going to let you out of the ropes if you need to be rid of them. Color?” I prod, suddenly feeling the reality of domming Superman.

“Green, Miss,” he assures, cock bobbing happily between his legs.

I reach down and lightly squeeze the base of his cock and he whimpers. “On your knees facing the bed,” I insist, pushing down on his shoulders. I sit on the bed after taking off my lace thong and I put my shins on his shoulders. “You look hungry, Clark. Why don’t you eat my pussy until I cum on that pretty face of yours?”

“Yes, Miss” he breathes, getting to work with that wicked tongue of his. I don’t understand how he is holding himself up without the use of his hands, but it must be a balance thing. I don’t put too much thought into it as my focus is elsewhere.

Before I know it, Clark is humming around my clit at just the right decibel to have me screaming his name. He then laps up my juices as they flow uncontrollably from me, leaning back after I push him back.

“Thank you, Miss,” he says, ever the polite submissive.

“Such a good boy, you are, Clark. I think you’ve earned an orgasm,” I praise, getting up to grab the Hitachi. I play with the settings, letting the lowest setting stay on while I tease Clark’s nipples. When he starts to wriggle at the sensation, I push the head of the Hitachi against the underside of his balls. This is where the fun begins…

With his balls being stimulated, I lean down and wrap my lips around his cockhead, swirling my tongue. Clark groans so loud and for so long, it feels like his entire being will explode.

“May I please cum, Miss?” he yelps, his breathing fast-paced.

“Cum for me, Clark,” I confirm, watching as Clark’s tension ebbs away. His tightly shut eyes pop open and he cries out as his cock erupts into my eagerly awaiting mouth. After a few seconds, I realize he is still cumming and turn off the Hitachi, putting it to the side. I wait until his cock only twitches but doesn’t release any more spunk and I pull off of him in enough to catch him as he pitches forward.

“Clark, I’m taking off the ropes, ok?” I don’t wait for an answer as I make quick work of releasing his arms and sliding the ropes off of him. I roll him over on his back and see his eyes searching mine. “I’m right here baby, are you ok? I think that orgasm might have been a little too intense.”

“I’m…k. Yeah, in…tense. Thank you…Miss,” he stutters, a lazy grin on his face, cock still twitching.

“You did so good baby, I am so proud of you,” I croon, leaning Clark into my lap while I check his arms and chest for rope burns. When I see nothing to worry about, I run my fingers through his curls. “How are you feeling now, Clark?”

“I think a few brain cells are gone completely but it was so worth it. I think I was deep in subspace for a second there,” he smiles up at me, love beaming in his eyes.

“Yeah, I would say so. That means you really needed it,” I kiss the tip of his nose, “So, I think I know the answer, but for my own ego, how did I do?”

“You took such good care of me. I felt so safe with you. And the way you took charge and realized I needed to end the scene? That was perfect. I couldn’t ask for a better Domme. Thank you, baby,” He brings my face down to his and kisses me.

“You are very welcome. What do you say we go take a bath together and then watch some bad tv?” I smile down at him and wiggle my eyebrows at him.

“That sounds wonderful,” he chuckles and gets up from the floor, reaching his hand out to me.

I take his hand and allow him to lead me to the tub. We bathe and get dressed in comfy jammies and spend the rest of the night watching tv and cuddling.

**Tag List**

Henry Fanfiction: @astheskycries @enchantedbytomandhenry

Prompt screenshot:

#rabbitsmilestone23 #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill #henry cavill characters #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill smut #henry cavill x reader #ellethespaceunicorn fanfic #clark kent #clark kent x reader #clark kent x black reader #clark kent x black!reader

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writemekpop · 1 year

Text

Five Nights in Tokyo | Jung Jaehyun

Summary: Living in Tokyo with your new husband Jaehyun was your dream – but you feel suffocated. When you abandon him with no explanation, he is furious.

Genre: Angst, suggestive, newly weds AU

Word Count: 1.2k

“Where the hell have you been?” your new husband Jaehyun asks, springing up from the bed. You close the door behind you.

You look around the small, dirty one-room you are sharing in Tokyo. Empty coffee cups teeter in the sink, crumbs litter the bedspread. It disgusts you.

Jaehyun’s cheeks seem hollow, his gorgeous hazel hair in disarray. “It’s been five days. I thought I would have to drag the river for you.” He looks furious. “Where have you even been sleeping?”

You remember the lewd neon street signs welcoming you into smoky bars, a new one every night. You lingered till the bouncer threw you out. In the day, you made a habit of holding coffees in cheap cafes until their owners, too, asked you to move on. You slept whenever you could, as if you might never sleep again.

“Here and there,” you say.

Jaehyun’s chest heaves. “You left me here with no money, no food, no drink. Not even a cigarette! Do you know how cold Tokyo is in December?” A shiver runs through him.

“Oh, don’t be dramatic. You’re always so dramatic,” you say. You would do anything to make Jaehyun stop speaking right now.

“I came here for you, remember?” Jaehyun says. He is standing now, the muscles in his neck and arms rigid. “I moved halfway across the world for you and your fancy new job. When you met me in Seoul, I wanted to die. My heart had just been broken by my girl, the love of my life. You are cruel. You made me want to live again, just to make my final death bloodier.”

You sigh, looking over Jaehyun, through the tiny window above the sink. In the distance, the sun is setting. You wish you were out there right now. “I’ve heard this story before,” you say.

You are not looking at him, but you can feel his shivers growing stronger, frustration bubbling visibly beneath his skin. “You’ve destroyed me! You don’t- you don’t love me at all. You never did. In fact, you are incapable of loving anyone. I wonder if you even loved your own parents, or if you just stared coldly up at them, waiting for milk.”

He hurls a coffee mug against the wall. It thuds against the exposed brick, then shatters into a thousand pieces over your bed.

The sound starts an earthquake down your spine. You’re alert now.

“What you call love is just servitude,” you say. “You want me to be your obedient little wife. You can be the big strong man, bringing home the money. I’ll cook for you, clean for you, lie with you at night. One day, I’ll have your babies, and then you’ll be done with me!”

Jaehyun scoffs. “You don’t really believe that. But you say these lies, because you know they will hurt me. You’ve lied to me since the moment we met. You think I don’t know that when I kiss you, I’m kissing nobody? That when I make love to you, I’m making love to nobody? You don’t live in this room at all. You live somewhere else, somewhere far outside that window, or perhaps at the bottom of the sea.”

The sour smell of the room suffocates you. The air is as thick as gelatine. “I want to leave this room,” you say. “I want to be away from you.”

Jaehyun smiles, a bitter, hurt smile. “That is the first honest thing you have said to me.”

But he doesn’t seem to realise you are being serious. Because when you turn to leave through the door, he grabs your hand.

In your surprise, you turn and look at him.

Jaehyun has transformed.

All the anger has left his face, which now seems soft and plump. He smiles softly, his brown eyes as sweet as caramel, his beautiful eyelashes thick with tears. “I didn’t mean it,” he murmurs. “I’m not mad. I love you, baby.” He rests his chin on your shoulder. “Don’t leave me.”

This is not love, you think. Jaehyun is clinging to you like a life raft in a storm. Disgust curls your stomach.

“You don’t love me. You need me.” you say, coldly.

Jaehyun’s gentle voice grows harsh and sarcastic. “And what were you doing in the bars and nightclubs of Tokyo? Was that love?”

Now you’re thinking of the anonymous men you accepted drinks from, their names blurring into one. You think of those five dirty minutes in the dark. You think of how your mind would wander far from what was going on between your legs. You think of the gritty, shivering hours after.

You are surprised by the wave of recognition you feel. You are no different to Jaehyun. Both of you are just searching, day in, day out, for a home. Both of you are diving into the rims of sake bottles, cigarette filters, lovers’ arms… and discovering that they are hollow at the centre.

You turn back to Jaehyun. He is so beautiful. You trace his high, noble cheekbones, the soft shadow of his dimples, the plump purple of his lips. You are struck by an overwhelming urge to comfort him.

Pulling him close, you feel him fall to his knees against you. You coil your fingers in his bronze hair. An immeasurable moment later, you shift, and gently brush all the glass pieces off your bed.

Then, you pull him onto it. Jaehyun’s lips melt effortlessly into yours. The shape of his body fits perfectly into yours, like he is following an invisible blueprint. It feels… right.

Biology choreographs the dance. Your eager hours apart time it. It is only now that you are in Jaehyun’s arms that you realise that in all your wandering, you have been wandering back to him.

Afterwards, you both lie on the bed, completely naked. In the chill of the Tokyo night, you keep each other warm.

You kiss Jaehyun’s eyelids, his lips, his nipples, wracked with guilt. The past few days, you have abandoned him, left him alone in a strange country that he only travelled to because he loves you. You have stopped appreciating that Jaehyun is your home.

“Don’t be sad,” he says, as if he can read your mind. “We are together now.”

“Let’s get out of here,” you say. “Let’s leave this awful city. Let’s go to Seoul – we can go to your home.”

“No, not Seoul.” Jaehyun says. He pauses thoughtfully. “I don’t think I have a home there anymore. Let’s go somewhere completely new.”

“I will never be a stranger to you again,” you say, gazing earnestly at him.

He kisses you gently on the lips. “Me either.”

—

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