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some-pers0n · 9 months

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rant about webs

I don't think you fully understand what you've unleashed here. You have just given me leeway, an excuse, to rant about my absolute least favourite character ever made.

Before I begin, I want to preface that, despite using strong language every now and then, I don't hate characters. I don't hate a lot of things. I dislike or don't agree with things, especially minor stuff like Glory's character arc not being as great as it could be or not care for arc 3, but I don't hate it.

I hate Webs. There has never been another character out there in any piece of media I detest more than this worthless sack of scales. He is abominable. He is nothing. He is useless. I hate him. I am revolted and disgusted by his mere existence.

I don't hate people who like him. If you like him, cool!! I like seeing other opinions! I may disagree with you entirely, but I don't want to come across that I literally hate people who don't share my opinion. I don't hate them at all. They're cool!! I'm just an overly emotional person on the internet who wants to wring the neck of a fictional dragon as if it were a wet towel.

Oh yeah, I also get a wee bit...intense and very aggressive. Be warned.

With that being said, I'll begin.

Webs is a nothing character. I don't think I have ever seen such a frustratingly empty and lifeless character. He is a shell. A husk. Any words he says holds no weight or meaning. He is speaking, but not talking. He has zero personality. He has no life. Looking at him and seeing him and his words gives off nothing. He is more hollow than an NPC in a early SNES game that only repeats the same line of dialogue.

Webs and his lack of a compelling personality is a large part of why I despise him. The greatest sin a character can be is boring. I can handle annoying characters, because at least then they have something to latch onto. A character that is completely dull is beyond infuriating. I want to bite a hole in his neck. He's soulless. He does not exist as a person. He is words on a page. It sounds redundant since every single character is technically just that, but their personality is what makes them real. Webs is not real. Webs is not even two-dimensional. I hesitate to say he's even one-dimensional since that would imply there's a dimension to his character.

I adore characters. Characters and dialogue are my favourite things to write about. I like my larger than life characters and personalities, obviously. I love being entertained by fun and compelling characters. While I'm personally fond of villains, I enjoy just about any character with...something to latch onto. Something to make me care about them for one reason or another. Whether it be their backstory, personality, relationships with the other characters, etc.

Webs is an void of creativity and depth. He is a cosmic horror with how maddeningly and stupidly terrible he is. It genuinely makes my blood boil and head spin to think about him. I'm on the verge of an actual headache writing this. I despise this terrible thing.

Webs is not a character. Webs is an anomaly. It is borderline impossible to somehow create a character that is virtually impossible to find anything to care about, but Tui managed to do it. I'd compare him to smooth, wet surface with no grip or anything to latch onto, but that would imply that he would be interesting in any regard. A surface that doesn't have anything to hold onto is fascinating. Webs is not that. Webs and his lack of anything is beyond that. He is worse than boring. I hate him.

That's not even mentioning the stuff he's done. Oh GOD the stuff he's done.

Webs often gets labeled as the ""best"" guardian because he doesn't explicitly physically and verbally abuse children. How sweet!! I'm going to bash his head into a wall and watch the entrails spill out and onto my hands. He STILL neglected the DoD and sat there like a spineless coward while they were being abused.

Hey, wanna hear something that'll blow your mind into a thousand pieces and leave you a bloody screaming mess on the floor, wailing in agony and begging God to save you from this hell? Neglect is still abuse!! Yippeee!!!! Wahoo!! :)

Webs sat there like a useless coward while children were abused. So likable!! Yeah, realistic for his character (which is so shallow that it's just flat earth), but it doesn't make me care about him. It makes me hate him. I hate Webs. I hate him so much.

Webs was scared of Kestrel and Dune, but that doesn't excuse him from sitting idly by like the goddamn waste of space that he is and doing absolutely nothing. He then is seem as the "good guy" by the DoD because ohhh boo hoo he's so sad and pathetic. :((( Yeah he's pathetic. I want to see him dropped off a cliff and fall to his demise.

B–b–but what about Riptide? Riptide? Who gives a shit about him and Riptide?? The books don't!! The books had the FULL power to turn this into an actually interesting plot point and did NOTHING! NOTHING!!! Riptide is a stale and empty piece of cardboard (like father like son), but husband only saving grace is that he has a SHRED more personality and charm than his limp-dick bastard father.

But, okay. Okay, okay, okay. I suppose I'll give them the benefit of the doubt. Let's see what Webs did.

Oh!! Webs basically abandoned his wife and infant child and left them for dead? He allowed his wife to be executed by Coral and for his son to be known and have to carry the weight of being the son of the kingdom's betrayer? HOW WONDERFUL! HOW NICE! HOW GOOD! God I want to see the life drain from the eyes of this overized Petsmart disease-ridden gecko.

The worst part is KNOWING he could've been better. This whole plot point? It could've been so interesting. So nuanced. But, NO!! No, no, NO! That would require Tui putting some actual goddamn effort and work into this character, which he doesn't deserve in the slightest. What does he deserve? Being put six feet underground.

Webs is a parasite on my mind. I have never wanted to have anybody suffer like him. I hope there is a dragon hell so that he gets to live through the torment he forced his wife, Riptide, and all of the Dragonets of Destiny through for eternity. I hope he feels his wife's throat being torn open by Coral and the agony from it. I hope he feels every lash and every cut and every insult that Kestrel and Dune dealt out to the DoD. I hope he doesn't get a moment of peace.

He should have died at the very least. He is the least interesting guardian out of all of them. For GOD'S sake Asha and Hvitur are infinitely more interesting characters than him. ASHA DOESN'T EVEN FUCKING SHOW UP. SHE'S DEAD BEFORE THE STORY STARTS.

Kestrel has connections and links to such important characters. I don't like her and disagree that she should've lived past TDP, but I respect her character. Her impact on the DoD, Peril, Sky, etc is undeniable.

Dune has connections to Six-Claws and Thorn. We know he was a trusted member of the Outclaws and was once highly respected.

Hvitur, despite being an IceWing and not a part of the prophecy, is accepted to be a guardian. He believed with all of his might and soul that the prophecy would work. He had faith.

Asha, despite being a MudWing, desired a family. It's mentioned by Cattail and leaves open the idea that Asha was uncharacteristically caring and sweet for an adult MudWing. I always believed she was like Hvitur in a sense, joining the cause because she wanted to raise children and help end the war.

Webs has nothing. He is nothing. He is worthless. He is useless. He is a coward. I want him gone. Killing him in fanfiction or even in canon isn't enough now. I need him erased from existence. I don't want to spare another fraction of a millisecond to think about him. He doesn't deserve it.

I hate Webs.

#wof #wings of fire #I hope my writer skills bleed through a bit and I manage to fully display my rage and malice to this character #I do genuinely hate him but it's all light-hearted and fun and games though :)#sp-rambles

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astriiformes · 1 year

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My little sister is on her high school golf team, which is already really funny because she does not have the vibes or personality you would expect of a golfer, but she the other day she sent me a picture of her senior student athlete poster and the energy is so incredible. It's got her in her little polo shirt and glove and everything except instead of coming across as cute suburban golf girl she looks more like the sullen frontwoman of a sapphic grunge band.

Please picture a tiny Korean girl with half her hair dyed hot pink, a bunch of ear and nose piercings, eyebrows filled in with sharp red and black liner and a slit shaved into one of them, and a deeply unimpressed expression on her face, standing there in a golf uniform with a club slung over her shoulder looking more like she's about to hit you with it than she is a golf ball.

#it's so funny to me that somehow my very average centrist parents who made a point of living in boring middle class suburbia #somehow managed to raise three raging bleeding-heart socialist hippie queers in spite of themselves #which has also lead to. some very funny intersections #from what i've heard my little sister shows up all the men at the driving range with some frequency #which is a mental image that always delights me. suburban golf guys destroyed by one (1) powerful bisexual #i love her; i'm looking forward to seeing her soon #even if it's wild to think about her graduating high school -- that's my baby sister!!

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badolmen · 6 months

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When I say “take heart and have hope” I don’t mean you should collapse to your knees with a demure plea to the heavens. You aren’t a painting of a tearful Saint long ascended. You are a Saint living now. Pick up the sword of Joan, the shield of George. Charge into the fires of hell unflinching, as you are already burning in your conviction that these crimes against the innocent and oppressed and poor will not go unheard or unseen or unpunished. By your hand or another’s there will be justice in this life or the next. Get off your knees and stand shoulder to shoulder with your brothers and sisters, lest you drown in the tide of despair.

Take heart and have hope.

#ra speaks #personal #poetry #kind of? sorry I get worried I come off as very ‘oh this is so tragic and sad :( oh well’ and that’s so far from the truth #I am incandescent with rage for these atrocities and a strangely gleeful desire to bleed in another’s stead.#being physically disabled and unable to do anything but speak and talk and share my solidarity is so infuriating #when I have the desire and calling to have my boots on the ground and hands helping the injured and frightened and fighting #it’s actually a little bizarre how strongly I feel about this I’ve never had this urge to get up and go rushing into danger before #anyways.#take heart and have hope #vocational woes

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bisexual-yuri · 2 years

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Empathy: It’s a mere second, but it feels like you saw something… a gram of compassion in that sadness.

#disco elysium #jean vicquemare #I have so many jean feelings #how he hides his sorrow with rage and how much he must have given harry over the years #only to be forgotten #a bitter bleeding heart who hates the fact that he’s still here #but also can’t not be around harry even if it’s bad for both of them #who wants harry to get better but doesn’t believe that he actually can #who even after harry being a huge asshole to him tried to show up and make him laugh to smooth things over

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bo0zey · 2 years

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every time my dad yells even if he’s just “raising” his voice to call one of my brothers over to him i flinch and my heart rate speeds up n my stomach drops n churns n i feel sick n if i think abt it too much like i am now my eyes sting just slightly like something inside me wants to cry from fear even tho i’m many many feet away safe inside my room alone w the door shut i still feel so so unsafe and it takes many many minutes and moments for me to calm down again i really hate this reaction i’m 22 years old why am i still responding like this trigger as if i’m a child i’m an adult he can’t yell at me anymore in fact he’s not even yelling AT me he’s yelling at someone else but still i jump n i feel my pulse pounding in my ears n temples i wish i would just stop being such a baby i wish i was stronger i don’t want to be afraid of people anymore

#‘im not yelling i raised my voice’ that’s what i heard my entire childhood growing up he even said it to me a few weeks ago when we #got into a heated argument and he kept pushing and pushing me and trying to gaslight and manipulate me and accusing me and i remember #thinking just before i snapped ‘im not a little girl anymore i can yell back’ and so i did and we yelled back and forth a few exchanges #until HE started to backdown a little like did he realize too that i’m an adult now and if he wants to scream and yell i can too???#we were outside im sure all our neighbors could hear us i was embarrassed but seething #if he wasn’t gonna be embarrassed then i wouldn’t either #sometimes i am so disgusted by my father and the way he treats the people he claims to love he makes me so angry and disgusted #but then he has this hold on me??? as soon as he starts to cry/get choked up then immediately all my rage n disgust seep out of my body #from the core of my heart to the tips of my fingers those emotions bleed out of me and dissipate into the air and i’m left feeling guilty #instant guilt and for WHAT???? for making HIM upset???? after all the times he’s made me breakdown and hurt myself bc no one would comfortme #and still yet everytime i feel the need to comfort him and downplay my emotions and i KNOW he’s manipulating me it’s so OBVIOUS but i #i fucking Can’t Not protect him i can’t let him sit there in that hurt guilt shame WHATever it is #and the reason i’m torn and feel like this is bc i genuinely think he believes what he’s saying and isn’t purposely TRYING to manipulate me #but he doesn’t realize how MANIPULATIVE and SELFISH he truly is he’s Delusional and has ZERO emotional intelligence 000000000000000000000000 #so how can i be angry when i know he doesn’t understand he’s just too stupid to understand he’s like a child the child doesn’t understand #they don’t understand complex emotions #i don’t understand why daddy makes me cry and stares at me with cold enraged eyes but when he cries i fold everytime #it’s so gross of me how weak i am disgusting who could ever love someone so pathetic #ramblings #tw childhood trauma #tw trauma

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caffeinatedopossum · 1 year

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I love how every month one of my internal organs just cramps the fuck up to tell me I'm Not Pregnant but could be theoretically. Like thanks for notifying me of something I already know in the most inconvenient and painful way possible.

How about next month you mix it up? Cmon let's shut down one of my kidneys or something to remind me that I have two of them. Yeah that sounds painful and pointless, why not -_-

#not to mention the sensory hell that is bleeding constantly?? and having to wear what is essentially half of a diaper for a week #god im so tirwd #why do i have a body #why do i have a female body even #it just seems cruel #the least i could get is some gender affirmation from this hell but nooo its Dysphoria Only hours #just boy-ly things 😔✌️#actually am feeling very boy-ly though in a way #like im in severe pain but toughing it out like nothing is even happening #literally fighting an internal war with an organ that may or may not be stronger than the human heart #and bleeding all the while. manly as hell tbh #also not sure if this is true or not but i was told testosterone levels are highest in afab folks when this happens so yeah #i do kinda feel like thats true since i would like to engage in the ungodly rage that has come to the surface now #but i cant really do that because everything hurts

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gremlingottoosilly · 6 months

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I met a guy in the Summer (dilf!Konig x fem!Reader)

Your boyfriend is an asshole. Luckily, his hot dad just returned from deployment. CW and Tags: Cheating, dub-con, size kink, daddy kink, age gap(reader in 20s, Konig is early 40s), Konig is a pervert, slightly obsessive Konig, love(and lust) at first sight, fingering, dom!Konig Word count: 3713 AO3

“Just one more game, babe, don’t be a buzzkill. I don’t want to end at a loss.” You didn’t want to be a buzzkill, of course. You simply wanted to be a good girlfriend, have some domestically cozy date, and for your boyfriend to at least try to put an effort into being with you. It wasn’t much to ask for, really. You hoped so, at least. You didn’t want to be an annoying, nagging girlfriend who only ever waits for another reason to yell at him, but your patience started to run thin.

You spend the past three hours either listening to his apathetic rambling about the shows he watched – really, you wanted to invest in stuff he liked, but an abnormally large amount of animes he talked about had 1000-year-old girls who looked like they were 10, wearing inappropriate outfits, and you started to raise the alarm.

You also watched him play – and also listened to his rage quitting and angry voice messages to his team that, honestly, made you slightly anxious. You never liked loud people, people who were so easy to rage about something as silly as some colorful video game with too many characters to look after.

So, like a good girlfriend would – you wanted to be a good girlfriend, he was such a nice guy before you started dating, and you need something to think about besides the tremendous amount of study work you are doing for college – you decided to go and look for snacks. Maybe bring something for him as well.

— I’ll find something to eat, alright?

He didn’t respond at first, so you shook his shoulder. Your boyfriend took off his headphones with annoying look on his face, half-turning to look at you. You gulped, suddenly feeling like a child in front of the principal – not a feeling that you were supposed to feel around your partner, but with him, you somehow constantly felt like you were being judged.

— Nah, stay here. I don’t want my father to see you.

— Ah…your father is at home?

You never heard anyone else being at the house – big house, you must admit, and it’s embarrassing almost how you never thought about his family. He lives with his dad, apparently, and the depth of your relationships can only be judged by the fact you literally didn’t know what his father’s name was.

— Returned from his fucking deployment. He’d ask too many questions about you.

— You didn’t tell him about me?

Ah, now you’re hurt a little bit. You knew it wasn’t anything serious or too committed yet, but you intended to make this work. To try and fix all the problems you can without ending things abruptly.

— He never asked. Not like he cares too much, but…

An apathetic dad, huh.

You started to slowly piece together the puzzle that was your boyfriend’s horrible boyfriend skills. Now, you want to meet the man who conceived him and kick him in the nuts for creating such an unlovable human being who somehow captivated your chronically lonely heart.

— If you don’t want me to come and meet him, I can go home.

He doesn’t answer because his queue is finally coming to another match – you simply nod, knowing everything you need to. You can grab a little snack for yourself, fuck off to your dorm and rethink your life choices while your roommate is getting pounded by some gruss British bloke with an accent that makes your ears bleed.

You have dignity, and right now, it has asked you to get some snacks from the kitchen.

*** Now, the only thing König wanted after returning from deployment was to take as many hot showers as he could, shut his bastard of a son up, and get some delicious food waiting for him in the freezer. He was already home for a few days, but adjusting is always hard when you basically fucking hate living at your own house. Of-fucking-course, his son was watching the house while he was away – and now he can’t even think of a good excuse to set him off to his mother. Too old to do this, and split custody never really worked when not even one part of the relationship wanted to take care of the kid.

König closes the door of the refrigerator – of course, his son took every good thing that he stashed for himself. With a groan, the colonel fights the urge to finally throw him out of the house – a thing he needed to do a few years ago, just when he celebrated his 18th, but some sentimental part of his heart instead promised to help with finding a place close to the college. No good deed goes unpunished.

With a groan, he takes a few steps from the fridge – and then he almost stumbles across an angel.

Scheisse

Now, König never thought of himself as a predator who prefers running after college girls who might as well be his daughters. He never thought of himself as a gut who liked them young – his wife, god forsake her name, was his age when they started dating, and he hardly had any sexual encounters with a person under 25 in the past few years. Well, not like he had any sexual encounters in the past years, but…

The thing is – he never thought he liked girls with wide eyes, pouty faces, and trembling hands who were holding a bag of his cookies that he carefully stashed away from his son.

You are wearing something cute, a nice skirt and an adorable pink cardigan that looks so cozy and warm and soft, and he fights the urge to grab your skirt and simply lift it, You’re dressed up for a cute coffee date, and König has to double check if he isn’t dreaming and no one has decided to play a prank on him and send him a cute callgirl.

— Oh! Sorry. It’s yours, isn’t it?

You give him his cookies back – but not before your fingers fished another salty caramel goodness out of the bag, and you bit it. He looks at your teeth, at your lips, and glimpses of your tongue – god, he is an old, dirty bastard because even his baggy pants aren’t enough to hide his boner. You have no right to look this pretty for a man who hasn’t seen a woman in three months and hasn’t had sex in the past few years.

You lick the crumbs from your fingers – it’s such a deliberate action that he can’t believe he actually sees it, and it’s not even something from porn he used to like.

— Ja. You can have it.

He would give you the code to his bank account if you asked for it.

— Thank you, sir. I’m…well, I assume if Paul didn’t introduce me to you…I’m his girlfriend. Nice to meet you.

You lick your lips and take a step back, pressed against the counter. He looks at the sway of your hips, a bit of crumbs on your shirt, and almost brushes it away with his hands. It would be a good excuse to touch your chest – but he can’t be like this, he has to keep his urges under control, or else his son will never forgive him.

Yeah, like he needs a better reason to throw his useless son from his home.

— Girlfriend? He never spoke about you.

You look sad, and he immediately curses under his breath. For a moment, you look too fragile – too real. He can’t handle this look on a woman, especially as pretty and young as you are. You bat your eyelashes, even involuntarily, and he already prepares to give you the keys to his home just so you’d stop with such miserable expressions. He has a spare bedroom.

He has his bedroom with a bed that would be enough for both of you.

— Ah. Um. We’re…I guess we’re not at this stage yet.

— Knowing him, you’ll never be, Schatz.

You look at him immediately – you’re offended, angry, and sad at the same time. There is a certain stubbornness in your eyes that immediately makes him want to simply scoop you in his arms, lift you, and drag you straight to the altar – and here he thought that his impulses over getting married would be over after his first divorce.

— What do you mean by this, sir?

You look uncertain now, he can see this in your eyes – and really, knowing his asshole of a child, he is almost sure that Paul never once got you off, either physically or emotionally.

Now, König never once considered himself to be a good man. He has killed countless people, overthrown many governments, and made shitty jobs for shitty people way more than saving hostages to help the good guys – and in the romantic field, it’s even worse. Wife, unsatisfied with his controlling tendencies and inability to feel normal love for a human being – and a son who hates him because, in fact, he never once wanted to have a kid.

He looks at you and sees a pretty young thing, still in college or freshly out of, probably without a stable job and normal social standing – a good girl won’t be with his son if she isn’t stupid or extremely desperate for a relationship.

The thing is, König is also extremely desperate for another warm body next to his, to feel a woman beside him, to love and obsess over someone – he looks at your pouty lips and shaky hands, at the way you bite the corner of your glossy mouth, and he almost wants to drop you on this very table and fuck you until you’re crying under him. He can’t do just that, of course. It would probably make you extremely uncomfortable and scared, but…well, quite frankly, his son doesn’t deserve you.

König is.

— I won’t sugarcoat it, Schatz. My son is a Scheiß Arschloch…fucking asshole, that is. I’m surprised he brought home someone as cute as you.

You feel embarrassment collecting in your body. Paul’s dad is a…interesting man.

Tall, broad, very muscular – even his baggy house clothes aren’t really concealing his extremely interesting physique from your eyes. He looks yummy and tasty, and you fight the urge to eye the bulge in his pants because you’re a good girl, you don’t look at your boyfriend’s dad like this.

König has greying ginger hair, locks already curling slightly at the lack of cutting, and you fight the urge to sit on the counter and get your palm in his scalp, massage his head gently, and pull him closer for a kiss. You feel like a dirty, horrible woman – your boyfriend is in his room, probably enjoying his time on your “date” while you’re lusting over his father.

Then again, this date already felt like a disaster. This relationship, too.

— Paul isn’t all that bad, sir.

“He at least has a nice dick,” you wanted to add but stopped yourself. Paul is tall and somewhat strong – if he weren’t sitting at his computer all day, you would call him even muscular. And he has a nice dick, yes, even though he had no idea how to use it. You liked the idea of laying with him, of spraying your jaw trying to fit all of this in your mouth, but his kinks and his sex skills being directly taken from porn…not really your thing.

You look at König and wonder if they are similar in all of the places. He is his father, after all.

König catches your gaze locked on his bulge and smirks.

God, if he knew his son had such a cute girl, he would ask her to come earlier. He is two weeks off deployment and probably won’t take another long contract for a few months because they just upped his retirement payings, and he can afford to slack off a little bit, only visiting the home base for some training and instructions for rookies.

He can afford to retire and never worry about money again – but he needs someone to make his days less boring, right?

You look like a good candidate.

— I’m sure my son was convincing, but I know him better than anyone. He doesn’t deserve you, Schatz.

He is shitty at flirting, it’s not his forte – he can flaunt his money, maybe, show you in his wallet and bank account face first. He can just straight up ask you to be his sugar baby and suck his cock instead of doing your studies, but he can’t flirt and manipulate to save his life. Lying isn’t something he is good for, this is why his wife has left.

— I…not sure we should be having this conversation here.

You’re a good girl, and it’s infuriating. He knows that having someone in his bed shouldn’t be the end goal for his leave, but he wants you, and by the look on your face, you aren’t opposed to the idea. König doesn’t understand if he likes that you’re so reserved about it or if he wants you to be a bit more slutty – but he captures you in the space between the kitchen counter and presses you with his body.

— You want to see the bedroom then?

Pushes you so close his knee gets between your legs – it might look involuntary like he didn’t exactly want for it to be placed here, but you aren’t dumb, you know what he wants from you. Like a good fucking girl, you’re too shy to give it to him right about now. God, sometimes he hates being so nice to people around him.

— Sir, this is very…

He got you caged in his hands, body trapped in his embrace – you jerk your head upwards a little bit, staring at him like a small bird in the hands of a predator. He isn’t a strong man in regard of morals, he doesn’t see anything wrong with fucking his son’s girlfriend – if the girl is up to it. And if she isn’t…well, he better make sure she is.

— What is it, Schatz? Paul won’t hear us in his headphones.

You know just how wrong it is, and you almost want to escape – his dick grinds on your pelvis through his pants, and you’re horrified to see how big it is. Excited too, of course, he is bigger than your boyfriend ever could be, and you don’t want to be a slut, but, oh well, not like you were in a committed and serious relationship anyway.

Paul was seeing your friends more than you ever saw them – it’s probably a sign that you should settle for someone older. You did enjoy Lana Del Rey's songs, after all.

— I don’t want to break his heart.

— He doesn’t have one.

You’re lost when he pushes his lips to kiss you over and over again – a surprisingly good kisser, and you give in because it was the first time in forever a kiss made you feel this good. His lips are sending electricity down your spine, you want to moan just from his knee, pushing on the softness of your cunt through that adorable skirt you liked so much – you feel so small like this, so tiny in his hands, you…

God, you feel like a slut, and you like it.

Soon enough, you answered the kiss, your lips meeting his in a dance that made you feel hot, that made you feel like your boyfriend never could. Never thinking of yourself as someone who can fall so easily into the hands of an older man, now you know that he got you right where he wanted.

You push your hand on his pants, trying to get the control back – but he stops you, a giant hand enveloping your wrist and pushing you back. With a surprise on your face, König just wants to kiss you all over. God, you’re adorable, and he knows that you deserve way more than being fucked on the rough kitchen counter while your so-called boyfriend is too busy dickriding his friends in some useless online game.

— Not now, princess. You deserve better than being fucked on the kitchen counter, ja? It can come later.

“Later” sounds like a promise, and you bite back your moan when he keeps pushing his knee against your cunt, making you throb and clench on nothing. He is such a gentleman, you can’t help but compare him to his son – and his fabulous ability to make you feel dirty after fucking you in the backseat of his car and tossing you to your dorm with your pussy still wet and messy after you didn’t cum.

You sob, not from sadness, but from pleasure mixed with some weird, unnatural for you emotions – you feel weird, strained here like this, but you hug his neck and whisper something in his ear. Something, dangerously sounding just like “daddy, please”

König is blushing, and he looks fucking adorable.

— Daddy, ja? God, you’re dangerous, liebling. Going to get me in trouble with my son later.

He laughs when he kisses you again, his hand slipping in your panties only to find them completely soaked – he knows you deserve a nice pillow and soft sheets under your body, and he pushes you up so you can hug his waist with your legs. You rely on him like a cute pet, and you’re so perfect in his hands he curses himself for not seeing you before.

He is going to ruin you for anyone but him. Put so much cum in you, it will make your tummy bulge – make you his precious sugar baby, pay for your dumb college and make you move to his bedroom instead of some shitty dorm you probably share with four other people.

He can be good for you – but he will ruin you for anyone else, anyone appropriate, every guy your age who clearly doesn’t know how to treat a lady right.

— So wet for me…such a filthy thing, I didn’t know my son dated a whore.

— N…not a whore, please…

He kisses you on your forehead, silently apologizing. You feel his crooked, scarred smile, and you push your face up to kiss him – you want to touch him so badly it makes you feel stupid.

— Sorry, Schatzen. Not a whore, a good girl for her daddy, ja? So nice for me, too fucking young…

— W…we really shouldn’t… — Tshhh, don’t think about it. Thinking will only hurt your pretty dumb head. — I’m not…

— Quiet, little one. Let daddy handle everything.

He kisses you over and over, his fingers playing with your pussy – meaty digits digging in your hole, making you whimper from sudden intrusion. He is big, bigger than anyone else, just two of his fingers are enough to spread you as much as normal cock would, and even though you’re used to taking Paul’s size, you just know that his dad would be much, much bigger. He is going to split you open, and you will love every fucking second.

It feels so wrong, you still aren’t sure if you want him to touch you like this.

It feels so right, he is experienced and eager, pushing every button to make you squirm in his grasp. Your orgasm comes embarrassingly quick – maybe because you haven’t gotten off in ages, only miserable masturbation sessions and poor attempts at faking your orgasm made it feel real. Paul never cared enough to actually get you off – but now…

You aren’t ready for him. You squirm in his grasp when the pressure becomes too much, and he soothes you, two fingers still buried in your soaked cunt. You feel so dirty, so wrong right now – you are cumming on the fingers of your boyfriend’s absent father, and you love every second of it.

Post-orgasm clarity makes you whiny and sobby, and you whimper in his shoulder when he gently lifts you in his hands. God, you’re adorable, and he knows that he just scrambled your brain with that orgasm – it’s good, really, he might just want to keep your pretty head nice and empty for him. Not like you would ever need to think in his presence, the colonel can handle everything in- and out- of bed.

König holds you close, not allowing you to scramble away no matter how embarrassed you are. You are his precious thing, with a pouty face, and he will do everything in his power to make you squirm on his fingers again and again before he makes you his wife for good.

So impulsive, maybe this is why his son is such an asshole – taking the worst traits of his father.

— Don’t cry, Schatzen. You’re okay, it felt good, didn’t it?

— W…we shouldn’t have. Shit. I’m sorry, it was a m…god, I need to tell Paul.

— I’ll tell him.

— No! — I will tell my asshole of a son that you’re my girl now, ja? And then I will take you to the bedroom, so we can fuck.

— I need to return to my dorm.

— And then I will dine you properly, okay? Sorry, Liebling, I know I should court you before all of this…but we can afford to go a bit off board, ja?

He is smiling, so smitten and obsessed over just having you cum on his fingers once – you don’t have the heart to say no. Never did. You’re a good, proper girl, and Paul was never treating you right anyway. You feel dirty, yes, but somehow, it is almost right.

He peppers your face with kisses, like a dog lapping its tongue all over your skin – you’re so concentrated on the warmth of his strong, seasoned body that you don’t even look in the direction of the doorway to the kitchen.

Paul, however, looks straight at you, disheartened and shocked.

— W…what the fuck, dad?! König laughs, kissing you once again – deep, hot, with tongue and loud, sloppy sounds of your mouth pressing into one another. You’re stuck in place, still caged in his arms like a precious little pet you are.

— She’ll make a good step mom, ja?

You don’t even register his hands slowly caressing your fingers as if he already tries to check the ring sizes.

#cod #konig x reader #yandere konig #konig #cod x reader #call of duty #cod x you #yandere cod #konig mw2 #reader insert #yandere x reader

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byakugoseal · 1 year

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tag dump: broken & updated tags part ii

#✖character study║she wore her troubled past like scars / she had been through battle & came out alive #✖headcanon║i know the parts of myself that I've hated & i can't tell which ones are mine & which i created #✖dash commentary║beautiful words take revenge against you / quiet meanings make you bleed #✖dash games║i may not have amazing weapons like a puppet in me but what i do have is my master's contempt for losing!#✖self promo║she dragged herself through the flames brushed off the pain & picked herself up to fight every battle before her #✖promo║when blood hits the battleground will you fight or will you fall?#✖saved║i am constantly haunted by someone still alive & by the memories i can’t seem to bury #✖wishlist║there is probably no reason to honor the promise from long ago #✖submitted post║seems the stars in the heavens have no answers #✖answered║a language dies without guttural cries // a story dies then de-composes // a myth #morgs tag dump #✖anonymous inquires║darkness blankets me & the moon offers me its paltry alms of light i choke with gratitude & i cannot speak #✖mobile post║i am too soft still for this world – snapping in half at a pretty word #✖queue║away on a mission #✖scheduled post║i hope saying goodnight doesn’t mean saying goodbye #✖open starter║throw yourself to the wolves & you will learn of the tenderness in their howl & the loyalty in their blood #✖ic║i've always considered myself to be a true ninja...but those were just empty words #✖sakura║may the rage in my head encounter the pain my heart feels #✖ino║a flower blooming on the battlefield #✖sasuke║another knife in my hands / a stain that never comes off #✖naruto║warrior child you were born with legends breathing inside your name & history books waiting to trace your footsteps #✖lady tsunade║how does the earth not crumble beneath our feet? & how does atlas bear it?#✖sai║with ink-stained dreams & a star-soaked heart #✖shikamaru║through sorrow you became stronger #✖kakashi║you were so brave & quiet // they forget you were suffering #✖kisame║bone soldered by coral to bone mosaics mantled by the benediction of the shark’s shadow #✖itachi║there are so many things i wish i could say but i know the hurt has already been done #✖sasori║there is nothing more frightening than a man who has torn his own self apart #✖cross over║i too have been losing my gentleness / since the first young wound #✖unknown verse║the crow has flown away: swaying in the evening sun a leafless tree

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404shcats · 1 year

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Ok can I just say I absolutely love evergreen/arsonist, the lyrics are amazing (and a bit too relatable), and it was written and produced by a story time animator. Also the music video is just gorgeous.

… Maybe you should listen to it.

#Wildfire Candied calamity Stuck in my teeth Clung to me just like a cancer #The sky fell The world rot I wilted away in an office couch And yet you still raged on #When I was little I was taught to garden So I spilled my pockets on plants And you always let them die #Because I was evergreen You were an arsonist You forgot about me in a week But my garden is still dead #Wildfire Waste away omniscient queen Can't burn water So I'll drive into the deep #You wanna date a doctor a psychologist you wanna date your mom You want somebody to take care of you provide you with a job #You want a punching bag a screaming match an opponent who won't swing You want a nice girl with no money who will give you everything #You need cathedrals with no God so you can sit upon the throne and You need everyone to worship you so you don't feel alone #And you need guillotines and diamond rings you need to have their heads #You need to take and take and take and take until there's nothing left #You need to take a gun and shoot your targets right between their eyes You force your prey to crawl to you to hold you when you wanna cry #You are the lion and the lamb and you are heaven and you're sin You eat your own heart out and then you beg for ours instead #Wildfire Told me It's just flowers it don't matter I'm done playing make believe #You fucking liar A traitor who won't let me leave You stole my favorite flowers And you tortured them for hours #Wish I noticed that you had painted all your white flags #Wish I noticed all the crimson bleeding through all the cracks #Wish I threw them all away into a turpentine bath #You burn on and on and on and on and #I wanna scream at you until I'm red in the face #I wanna feel the power you so desperately craved #Know how to keep me charred while I decay in the rain #y0u burn on and on and on and on and #Oooooooo I feel so cold Oooooooo I feel so cold #Oooooooo I feel so old Oooooooo They wanna know #…#yes I really did put all the lyrics in the tags #Spotify

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ladadiida · 10 months

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𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

heavily injured from a battle in the xianzhou luofu, you thought it would be the first and last time you see your stellarmate—but then you wake up in his arms, with him treating your wounds despite showing signs of disinterest in your bond when you first met.

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 soulmate au, angst, unrequited love, mentions of blood and injury descriptions, possessiveness, blade's pov, him just taking care of you with a sprinkle of angst

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 stellarmate = soulmate (inspired from stellar jade so original i know) this is actually from the blade fic that i plan on writing but this can be read as a standalone! also, if you get the ts reference in this we are automatically besties. may blade wanters be blade havers

𝐰𝐜 1.8k

soaking the dirty piece of cloth in the cold water, blade let the icy liquid gather in the fabric before lifting it out and wringing it dry until it became nothing but an improvised damp towel.

it wasn't even guaranteed that it was clean enough to be put on your forehead, since the cloth was only ripped off from your dirtied skirt. however, he had no choice but to use it in the end. your body went into a shock after losing too much blood in a battle between you and some mara-struck soldiers, resulting into a high fever.

with the moon positioned at its highest point in the night sky, blade guessed that it was already midnight, meaning that he hadn't caught a wink of sleep ever since he fled the xianzhou with your unconscious body in his arms and warped to a planet he first thought of. this was nothing new. he could stay up all night and his body wouldn't feel anything at all.

blade approached your resting figure in the small cave you were both currently residing in. observing your face for a moment, which was formed in a deep frown, he brushed away the stray hairs out of your face as carefully as he could, then placed the damp cloth on your forehead.

your fever wasn't going down throughout the evening, with your body covered in sweat and hastily wrapped bandages. your shoulders were bare since your most grave injury was a stab wound near your heart, caused by a sharp blade of a mara-struck soldier, and so he was forced to rip open the top part of your shirt to stop the bleeding.

beside your now wrapped wound was none other than your mark. your stellar mark. blade can only stare at it. even when he was placing a bandage over your wound, he didn't dare touch the area where the mark rested on your skin. until now, he was still in disbelief over the fact that the aeons gave him a counterpart, his other half. after all the torment and pain, he, of all people, was blessed with a stellarmate.

he went over to the bonfire in the middle of the cave, where he was boiling medicinal herbs with water using a bowl he made out of stone. years worth of travelling between planets made him gain knowledge of which food to eat or which plant is safe to intake. emerald-iii wasn't a foreign land to blade; he had visited the planet before twice, accompanied by kafka.

speaking of his companion, blade thought back to the xianzhou while waiting for you to wake up and for the medicine to finish cooking. she must be looking for him right now, maybe even asked silver wolf to track him down. your astral express friends might be searching for you too.

he closed his eyes. the image of you lying in your own pool of blood appeared in his mind. blood was also dripping down the side of your mouth, and your eyes were already starting to close when he found you. the pain and rage and fear he felt all over his body was nothing compared to his never-ending death. and he felt his mark burning too, wanting to seek revenge to the people who hurt what was his, wanting to kill them clean with his broken—

"b—lade?" your broken voice came out in a pained wheeze. you coughed shortly after, throat dry and parched. blade turned around and looked at you. your eyes were barely open, but he can see your confusion and distress. "you're...h-here?"

"fool. don't try to talk. you are currently in a weak state." he scolded, glowering at you with his crimson eyes narrowed in slits.

you shook your head repeatedly, slowly lifting your shivering arms and wrapping them around yourself. "i-it hurts, blade..." you complained as tears lined up your eyes, fingers brushing against your wounded shoulder, "...and it's c-cold."

blade gave you a blank stare. he didn't know what to say to you. it was the first time you talked to each other properly, and the first time you were alone together. but it seemed like you were in a state of delirium, seeing that you weren't scared of expressing yourself.

you whined while sniffing, "so cold...why is it so cold?"

he sighed in defeat and shrugged off his tailcoat, leaving him in only bandages wrapped around his torso. he scooted over to you and covered your body with his coat. "we are in emerald-iii, therefore, the weather is constantly changing. endure it while i finish the medicine."

"medicine?" you asked curiously, pulling his coat up to your face.

blade clicked his tongue in annoyance. "one more question and i will abandon you here."

you were silent for the next minutes as you patiently waited beside him. he removed the stone bowl from the fire, and saw that the water has turned a greyish green due to the medicinal herbs. to further melt down the remaining floating leaves, he gave the liquid a quick stir by moving it in a back and forth motion.

bringing it up to your lips, he commanded, "drink."

moving your head forward, you sipped from the bowl, but you immediately coughed it out. after recovering from the series of coughs, you let out, "it's bitter—!"

"you dare complain when i boiled these herbs for hours just so they become pure enough to consume." blade snapped impatiently, "do you wish to be well or not?"

you nodded quickly, not wanting to anger him any further. "okay. i'll drink it."

it took you a few more tries before you get to take all the medicine down your throat, your face scrunched in disgust by the time you finished drinking it.

without warning, blade scooped you up and placed your head against his shoulder. he started taking off your bloodied bandages, and once it was all removed, he examined the wound. he already cleaned and stitched it up hours ago, but it was still bleeding. it can't be helped. the supplies were sparse and the cut was too deep, and with your fever adding up, he was not sure if you'll survive the night.

sweat began lining up his forehead. gritting his teeth, he took a fresh batch of bandages and started to wrap them on you again.

why? why was he doing this? why was he trying to keep you alive? each time the bandage circled around your arm, blade's movements became more frustrated and quick and rough. he didn't even notice you gazing at him with a dazed expression until you chuckled softly.

blade scowled. "speak if you wish to say something."

"are you real?" you murmured weakly, your hushed voice cracking in between words, lacking the usual gentle tone yet it was still tinted with naivety and awe that it made him freeze. all the frustration and anger was washed away and was instead replaced with confusion to your question.

your eyelids kept drooping down, not allowing him to see the beautiful shade of your warm eyes that reminded him of the brightest stars of the xianzhou sky. it was fine; as long as he gets to hold you like this, your head against his shoulder, your bare skin against his with the moonlight shining over you, then everything was fine.

feeling his heart skid to a stop for a thousandth time that night, blade can't help but to slowly reach out, and although his bandaged hand hesitated to land on your skin, afraid it might tint your innocence with his sins, he allowed himself to caress your cheek. it did not surprise him at all when your face fit perfectly in the palm of his wounded hand, your warmth proceeding to seep through his thin and bloodied bandages. a stray tear suddenly fell down your smooth skin, and this time, he didn't hesitate to wipe it off with his thumb.

"what do you mean?" he whispered, leaning in closer to you. you didn't answer for a minute, your breathing growing heavy.

then you laughed. "i don't know," you said, "i feel like i just made you up."

more tears escaped from your eyes as you continued, "you wouldn't...boil some strange herbs for me, or wrap me up in your coat. or treat my wounds, or even talk to me. you wouldn't want to be near me. you wouldn't do that."

"i have no time for your nonsense." blade replied with the intention of sounding harsh, but it came out weak instead. you smiled at him tearily, placing your hand on top of his.

"we are going to be unbound soon." you assured him, and blade swore his stellarmark was stung the second you said those words, "and as soon as i get well, i will immediately seek the aeons and get our marks removed. then you wouldn't have to see me ever again."

he swallowed, speechless for the first time. unbeknownst to him, he was slowly pulling you closer to his chest, his fingers digging into your skin in an attempt to keep you all to himself. his breathing grew uneven as he thought of you walking away from him, forgetting him, not thinking of him, and you belonging to someone else that wasn't him. his heartbeat grew irregular at the thought of not seeing you again.

blade had the sudden urge to cover up his mark and protect it from the world. it was his. it was his and his alone, and no one was going to take it away from him. not even the aeons.

"but do you want to know a secret?" you continued quietly, your smile growing wide, "if the aeons would give me a chance to pick a stellarmate again, i would choose you."

yes. he was going to keep this mark. and he was going to keep you. ever single person who will lay their hand on your skin will meet the sharpness of his sword, and every single one who will stand in between your bond shall face his wrath.

"i would you choose you, again, and again, and again, until you want me back. until you love me back."

the second you wake up from your delirious state, he'll tell you of his new plans, and he imagined you in disbelief, surprised and hesitant and hopeless but you'll nod and you'll take his hand, and you'll run, run, run, and leave it all behind.

"oh, look at the moon," you exclaimed, pointing a finger to the crescent shaped light, and he ignored the way your breaths were growing shallow each time you talk, "look at the moon, blade. it's so pretty. the moon is so pretty."

blade pulled you closer to his chest and rested his chin on top of your head as a sinister grin started to grow on his lips, along with an unfamiliar flame beginning to ignite in his amber crimson eyes. you were his. you were his.

and not even elio can change that.

#blade x reader #honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #blade hsr #blade honkai star rail #honkai star rail blade #hsr blade #hsr x y/n #hsr x reader #hsr x you #hsr #honkai star rail x you #honkai star rail blade x reader #honkai star rail imagines #hsr blade x reader #hsr blade x you #angst #honkai star rail angst #ਏਓ ladadiida

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elixrr · 3 months

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Within the frame, you.

— They're still stuck on you, even after your death.

ft. various genshin men + star rail men

cw. angst, no comfort. your implied death.

He stares at a portrait of you across the room. Beneath their dull expression, a world of chaos, despair, and rage explodes and drives him to madness.

– Xiao, Alhaitham, Diluc, Wanderer, Dr. Ratio, Blade

Your death has already passed. You have come, and you have gone; he knows that this is simply the way of life, but he can't let it go. You meant the world to him— you mean the world to him. He dares not to say a word, nor is he able to bring himself closer to the portrait. You stare uncomfortably back at him, but your eyes are so full of life. You're dead, your body hones no being, but in there, in that photo, your eyes sparkle with life and prosperity. In that photo, you captured a special kind of love and light, and he can never feel it— never touch it again. He will never feel your light; he will never feel your love.

Yet, he still feels your hands. Your hands in the photo stick out to him, and he is reminded of your ghostly touch lingering across his hands. He can not tear his eyes away from your portrait, your hands, your smile, your bright eyes— it fills his own with tears. It's irrational, it's incomprehensible. The tears rapidly stream from his eyes, and he begins to sob. Alas, he breaks free from your gaze, but he is not free of you.

You were his, he is yours.

It is irrational, yes, but he will never let go. Not of you.

He can't stop crying over your death. He knows that, in order to heal, he needs to throw your photos out, but he can't bring himself to.

– Lyney, Kaveh, Venti, Freminet, Yanqing

Why you? Why did it have to be you? He can't handle your death, hell, he can't even bear to look at you! You've stolen his heart, and now he can't ever have it back. He's managed to turn all of the photos he has of you around, letting himself breathe once again. There was one instance where he had turned every portrait of you except for one in the hallway, and he broke down for a good ten minutes when he saw your illuminating glow.

Thoughts of you began to resurface, and he cursed at himself for letting this happen to you. He thought of your face, your eyes, the way your clothes swayed and swept with the winds. You were everything, and he let you slip past his fingers—

He stood up. He couldn't take this anymore. He stumbled from his seat and to the door, yet he stumbled too much and fell on a table. Crap! Photos of you wobbled and fell off of the table, and he managed to catch one picture. Involuntarily, he turns the frame over and looks at you.

And yet, at the sight, he drops the photo, and he realizes what happened: three portraits of you have fallen and shattered, and pieces of you and glass have scattered across the floor.

Everything, every part of you fell, slipping past his fingers, and you laid there. In each photo, you were full of life. But now? The message screams loud to him, like the glass shards, the realization stabs his heart a million times over, and he falls to his knees.

You're dead.

He starts sobbing; he can no longer hide the hurt. You're dead, the love and light of his life has shattered and dulled, you've disappeared. He pleads, begs, and cries for you to come back to life—he can't take another day of waking up knowing that you're gone.

He lays on the ground and sobs, scrambling the floor any piece of you he can find and grasping it tightly, no matter how much he bleeds.

He's been healing significantly, yet he still sometimes ponders back on the thought of you.

– Kazuha, Zhongli, Neuvillette, Wriothesley, Albedo, Welt, Jing Yuan

You've brought him comfort and happiness, but you have passed. Most days, he can bring himself to work, to travel, to do things he'd normally be able to do before your death, but sometimes he finds his mind lingering back to you. He still keeps a photo of you with him, and sometimes– like today– he pulls it out of his pocket or bag, and he stares at what once was, what he once had and took for granted.

He will not cry over it anymore, not like he used to, but it still sinks in his heart. When he looks at you, he yearns to feel your touch, to feel your presence, but that alone is impossible, lest he visit your grave with one of his own. Yet, he still longs to hear your voice, to feel loved by you again, even if those are things unreachable. He knows that, though, and he has managed to distract himself from his longing for you.

He's tried rebounds once or twice, but his love for you remained, and none of those new relationships got anywhere. You have his heart, but he doesn't regret it. Someone will take it from your grave, perhaps. If not, then he doesn't mind being single.

Besides, he'll then be able to die, too, and reunite with you.

But for now, he safely tucks the photo of you back into his pocket, and he continues on with his life. (Albeit, still trying to live comfortably without you).

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thedreamlessnights · 6 months

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Fervency

Non-Ascended Astarion x F!Reader - NSFW

Synopsis: After falling into mysterious spores in the Underdark, you start to experience some... strange side effects. Astarion is more than happy to assist.

Warnings and tags: 18+ (and I cannot stress this enough), aphrodisiac/glorified sex pollen, established relationship, discussions of consent, fingering, oral sex (both giving and receiving), blood drinking, multiple orgasms. Takes place post-game and includes mild spoilers.

Word Count: 5.7k

There’s not much that surprises you anymore.

It’s true - being kidnapped by illithids, having a tadpole implanted behind your eyes, facing the gods themselves - all of that does make it difficult for mundane life to come anywhere close enough to truly shock you. Your days aren’t necessarily peaceful, but they never seem quite as exciting as that blind haze of companionship in the aftermath of the nautiloid, trekking through the wilderness and shadow-cursed lands and the city, finding yourself in the company of strangers but soon-to-be family.

Still, these days, there’s something every now and then that catches you off guard. The trouble is, you’re never quite left in a space to know how to handle it. Unlike your earlier adventures, things are rarely solved with a dagger in your hand or a dash of flattery in your words. No, the burdens of day-to-day life are much more complicated than that.

Falling into a patch of mysterious spores, for one.

The Underdark is full of various mushrooms. Poisonous. Explosive. Befuddling. You could go on and on. You’ve had your number of close calls with them, but the sensation coursing over your skin feels like nothing you’ve ever experienced - and it doesn’t help that you’ve never seen spores like this.

Hells. Of course this is where your day would end up.

Just a little stroll, you’d told yourself. It’ll be harmless. And it had been, for the most part. There’s an unearthly beauty to the Underdark that you’ve never encountered anywhere else, one you’ve come to appreciate just as much as the upper surface. But halfway through your usual route, your feet had snagged on a branch and you’d gone tumbling, and now - now you’re in a patch of glowing, red spores, feeling like…

Gods, what do you feel?

Hot. You feel very, very hot. Sweat trickles down your back. Warmth blooms like poppies in a number of strange places - your cheeks, your lips, your neck. The feeling is spreading fast, bleeding through your ribs as you get to your feet.

Alright, you think to yourself, ignoring the sharp, bleeding panic in your throat that’s threatening to take over. Situations like this call for a sense of rationality. You’re going to get out.

It takes much longer than it should for you to slowly stumble back to familiar ground. Your movements are jerky, as if you’re being puppeted around, and it’s getting harder to think straight when you’re feeling as if - whatever this is - is slowly consuming you. The heat is in your lungs, coursing fire near your pounding heart, raging with every inhale.

You need to get this off of you, and as quickly as possible. After that, maybe it will fade and maybe it won’t. You’ll… you’ll figure it out.

By the time you make it to the river, your knees are trembling so much that you nearly fall in. The water barely scratches the surface of the fire when you splash it over your skin, but the coolness of it is euphoric. You go as quickly as you can, covering area by area - your clothing, your arms, your face and neck - until most of the spores are off, but the feeling pulses and throbs in you all the same. Whatever it is, it isn’t killing you, but it certainly isn’t pleasant.

You could tell Astarion. He’d tease you a little, but he’d also be certain to search endlessly to find something to stop your discomfort. And you ache for him. His touch, his voice, the fondness in his eyes when he looks at you.

Had it really been just this morning when you’d last seen him? It seems like lifetimes away - lost to a very, very different type of ache in your veins that won’t seem to fade. You’ve just made up your mind to go find him, rising to your feet again, when the heat rushes to a very specific place between your legs and all thoughts of looking for Astarion are instantly cast out.

Oh, you think, somewhere between dizzy, needy, and utterly humiliated. So that’s what this is.

You’ve read about things like this - plants, pollen, potions - but most of them had been in bad romance novels, and none of them had ever come with any mention of an antidote. And, needless to say, you won’t be making your way to the Myconid Sovereign to learn more. It’ll have to be handled on your own.

You could risk going home and pretending to be ill, but Astarion is far too perceptive for that. He’d see through your ruse immediately. Which leaves the only option: hiding in a cave and waiting this out, praying he won’t notice you’re gone and come searching for you before you’re back.

And really, how bad can it be?

Bad. It can be very, very bad.

You’ve been sitting in this cave for who knows how long, and your sanity is fading more and more by the minute.

It had been manageable at first. The heat spread through you like warm cider on a cold night - a slow, steady increase, the way a candle gradually burns down to the wick. You’d thought it would stop at a certain point (it had to, didn’t it?), but no. It just… kept going.

Now, every inch of your body feels like it’s on fire, and it’s not slow, or steady, or even remotely bearable. It’s a strange, pleasurable flame, but a flame nonetheless. You can’t even decide whether touching yourself would even help at this point. Even just grazing your hand along the length of your thigh sends the fire rising, and you’re not keen on experimenting at the moment.

Your hands have gone stiff from balling your fists. Your mouth keeps switching between being as dry as sand and overly salivating. Each breath ignites more warmth, and you’ve been trembling for so long that you don’t remember how it feels to be still.

Gods. If you trusted yourself to get to your feet, you’d go see the Sovereign - a lifetime’s worth of humiliation or not. You don’t have any clue what time it is. There’s no sun or moon down here to guide you, no mechanism to spell out the hour. Has Astarion noticed your absence? How long until he’s concerned?

You know enough to know that you should have been back by now - that it’ll be unusual for you to have been gone so long. At least this spot you’ve found for yourself is relatively private. A dark, dry little place with a stone floor; fluorescent ivy in shades of lavender and coral; remote enough that, if your willpower fails and you end up making some noise, no one will be around to hear.

You attempt to swallow, but the action dies on your tongue. You attempt to breathe, but you can’t seem to suck in any air. You’re just thinking you really might die in this painful, mortified state when the pad of footsteps on stone hits your ears, and your whole body pulls as taut as a rope.

Oh, gods. Please not him. Anyone else. The Sovereign. The Society of Brilliance. Anyone.

But it’s him, because of course it is. He slowly makes his way inside, pressing through the narrow entrance and around the corner, and when he sees you curled against the cave wall, his brows rise - alarm.

“Wait,” you blurt out, determined to speak before he can. “Don’t come any closer. Please.”

Astarion stays where he is, but his eyes start instinctively scanning you over, searching for ailment or injury. “What’s wrong?” he asks, tilting his head. “You aren’t hurt, are you?”

“I’m fine,” you tell him, even though you’re anything but. You want to say more, but your thoughts trail off as another wave of heat flares inside of you. You’ve started trembling again. Your fingers accidentally graze against your thigh, and you let out a small, involuntary noise.

Astarion hesitates, then takes a step closer. “Darling,” he starts, raising a brow, “you make a terrible liar.”

Of course you can’t fool him. Not even a little. You let out a laugh, but the sound hitches into a strange, choked sob. You pull your knees to your chest and let out a long, shaking breath, trying to get a grip. “I know,” you say softly. “Gods. I’m sorry.”

He takes another step closer, and concern writes itself into his expression. “Gods below,” he exclaims. “Er - my sweet, I don’t mean to be rude, but you look...”

“Horrible?” you finish for him. “I know.”

“I… was going to say ill, actually,” Astarion replies, laughing a little. “This dark cave lighting looks beautiful on you, my dear.”

You can’t resist another laugh. It’s less burdened this time, but it fades away as you hesitate, very pointedly gazing down at your fingernails instead of meeting his eyes. “I may or may not have fallen into a patch of mysterious spores.”

“And?” Astarion says, lifting a hand into the air and giving a small, contemplative gesture. “Go on, darling. Seeing as you aren’t dead - I’m assuming they weren’t poisonous?”

You shake your head, swallowing hard. How the hells are you going to phrase this? “No,” you answer. “I just feel… hot. Not like the explosive ones, just… hot.”

“Well,” Astarion says, “That’s… interesting. Alright - let me take a look at you.”

Half of you wants to protest, but what’s the point? He’ll find out the truth sooner or later. So, instead, you nod.

He steps closer, kneeling down at your side, and you have to ball your fists to keep from doing something stupid. You’re expecting more flame at his touch - a painful flare, like when you’d grazed your thigh - but when the back of his hand meets your forehead, his touch is like a salve. Soothing, cool, sweet. It mellows out the fire, makes you feel sane again.

You shut your eyes in relief, staying as still as you can, and when you open them, you find him giving you a look you know all too well. Smug. Affectionate. A glint in his eye that can only mean trouble.

“My, my,” he purrs. “Darling, I’m no healer, but… a racing pulse, dilated pupils, feverish to the touch? That, I know.” He leans in, his voice low in your ear. “And I can smell how much you want me.”

A shudder runs down your back, betraying you. Astarion leans in to kiss you, his lips brushing against yours - soft and gentle and perfect - and it takes everything in you to pull away.

“Wait,” you protest.

He instantly halts, pulling away from you and scanning over your expression. “What is it?” he asks. “Is everything alright?”

“Everything is fine,” you say quickly. “But you don’t… I mean - I can manage this on my own, you know.”

His brows rise. “My dear, you do realize I am very capable of helping you in this situation?”

“Gods, Astarion,” you say, biting back a delirious sort of laughter. “Believe me, I’m well aware. But I don’t want you to feel like you have to do this. I can manage this.”

A fondness enters his expression - the rare kind, reserved for the most meaningful of moments. He leans closer, placing a gentle kiss on your lips. “I know,” he says softly, the words tender and delicate. “Trust me. I want to do this.” He trails a finger along your thigh, and you shiver again. “I’ve missed you,” he murmurs. “And, unless I’m wrong, you’ve missed me, too.”

After searching his gaze and finding him entirely present, you let yourself relax into his touch. “I’ve missed you more than anything.”

“Good,” he says. “I was almost worried.”

He skims his knuckles over your jaw, leaning in to kiss you once more, and the flame in you seems to bend to his touch. It rages in you like a furnace, bellowing and cruel, but with every frigid brush of his fingers, the feeling subsides. Even the feel of his lips on yours seeps away the discomfort.

He’s slow with his actions, but he doesn’t tease, even though you can see the amusement in his eyes when he pulls away to look at you. He’s enjoying this, and if you’re honest with yourself, you are, too. If only it didn’t come at the price of your dignity - but if it’s going to fall away in front of anyone, it might as well be him.

His hands slide down to your thighs, and your whole body pulls tight, torn between wanting him to touch you now and not wanting him to stop what he’s doing.

“Relax,” he murmurs, his lips ghosting against your ear. “I’ve got you, darling.”

You let out a shaky breath and try to coax your body into cooperating, shutting your eyes and letting the feel of him drown out the path of your thoughts. The sensation of his mouth, trailing down your neck, ranging between feather-light kisses and the barely-there sting of his teeth against the skin, making every inch of you melt into his touch like clay. His hands, sliding to the front of your top, deftly unlacing it and pulling it away from your skin.

Thank the gods no one is anywhere around this area - if anyone were to interrupt you, you’re sure you’d die right here and now. The simmering need that lies under your skin is bordering on painful, a white-hot delirium of impatience that will not be ignored any longer.

Astarion’s fingers skim across your sternum, further soothing the burning inside your chest, and his lips soon follow downward. You let out a soft noise from the back of your throat, something choked and desperate, and he hums against your skin in response.

When your eyes flutter open again, you find that he’s staring up at you as he kisses down your abdomen, eyes dark and hands curled lightly around your ribs, ardor and affection both palpable in the heat of his gaze.

Your instinct is to shut your eyes again - to shut out the intimacy and vulnerability that comes from holding his stare - but you don’t. Instead, you move the stiff muscle of your arm and coax your hand into working again, gently tangling your fingers into the silky-smooth, silvery curls in your lap.

He gives you a roguish grin, tugging on your bottoms until they finally, mercifully, pull away from your skin, leaving you in nothing but your smallclothes.

“Gods, you’re beautiful,” he mutters, the words dark and heavy on his tongue, but they feel more for him than for you. His brows crease together and his actions turn sure and firm and quickened - as if he can’t wait to have his mouth on you.

Beautiful. It’s the second time he’s called you that word tonight, but it doesn’t stop the heat from rising back into your cheeks, and that feeling of the warmth seems to spark a chain reaction.

It’s as if his voice is stoking the fire - more heat, all rushing to the very place his lips are heading to now, only to be soothed by his touch. He gently pulls at your thighs, coaxing you to lay on your back, and you’re so desperate that you nearly knock your head against the hard floor laid out beneath you in your effort to obey.

Your mind isn’t processing things the way it usually does: in an even, progressing line of events, every moment spread out from one to the next. Rather, everything comes in bursts of feeling, flashing between being a thousand miles away and all too close, all too present. You barely feel the graze of fabric when he removes your smallclothes and leaves you entirely bare, but the gentle, wet press of his tongue against you feels amplified a thousand times over.

“Astarion,” you gasp, your hand tightening in his hair.

He hums again, and the feeling of it has you shivering, muscles going slack in pleasure. Short, soft flicks of his tongue over your clit and you’re left a shuddering mess, not thinking to try to be quiet - not really thinking at all, anymore. He grips at one of your thighs, looping it over his shoulder as he pulls away for a moment, nipping at the tender flesh there. Soothing it with a gentle kiss, then returning to his work.

You’re a walking - or perhaps laying - contradiction. Your arousal is lava hot, but your pleasure is cold as ice. You can’t decide if you’re cold or hot or both or neither. You’re not in a place to think, not as blinding bursts of pleasure course up your spine, rendering you a lump of skin and bones and not much more. His mouth is nothing if not fervent.

You aren’t sure how long it lasts - your hand in his hair, his mouth against you, writhing in dizzying pleasure against the hard, stone floor and barely feeling the discomfort. It might not be very long at all - but it feels like hours before his fingers enter you.

You’re soaking wet. If you weren’t so focused on, well, everything else, it’d be humiliating. Still, when two fingers slip into you and meet no resistance whatsoever, Astarion groans. The pace he’s setting with both hand and tongue is torturous, slow and even, and it takes everything in you not to beg him for more.

But when he goes a little faster, a moan pulls from your throat, and you look down to find him grinning as he pulls away, fingers still at work. “Look at you,” he says, praise lilting the words as he curls his fingers - sending your hips rolling. “You’ll come for me, won’t you, darling?”

And as if he’s flicked a switch in your mind, you’re coming around his fingers, gasping and shuddering and clenching. Electricity seems to coarse through your veins, hot and sharp, flaming and radiant, and when it’s gone, there’s only the slickness between your thighs, a slight breathless laughter that escapes from you without a thought, and the fading warmth of the spores.

For a moment, it seems as though there might be relief. Your thoughts clear and the heat wanes, but after a sparse second or two of relief, it comes back as strong as ever.

You’d be disappointed at its reappearance, but then Astarion is crawling over you, using his knee to coax your legs apart for him, so how could you ever be disappointed? Everything else slips away except for him. His eyes, dark with want, his lips, molding against yours, his tongue, gently pressing into your mouth as he buries a hand in your hair.

He’s hard for you. You can feel it, and that realization has you grinding against him. He groans, cursing under his breath, then reaches down to undo his trousers. “Are you ready for me, love?” he asks, his voice half-broken with want.

You laugh, still trembling from your climax. “You know I am.”

“Mm,” he hums, his eyes glimmering in the dark. “But maybe I wanted to hear you say it for me, darling.”

Gods. He’s beautiful - always so beautiful - even here, in this dark, cold cave you’ve found. A work of art down to the dark circles under his eyes, the crow’s feet around his eyes, his smile lines.

You could spend a thousand years studying the art of him and never, ever get bored; not of his voice, and the way his confidence sometimes, ever so rarely, breaks into something real and raw. Not of his hands: nimble fingers and the calluses from his blade and soft skin - and not of his eyes, which seem both dark and light depending on his mood, and which can seem so sharp and severe at times, but sometimes soften into something soft and round. Sometimes. When they’re looking at you.

You could spend a thousand years admiring him and never, ever get tired of him, and never, ever deserve him. And he’d never believe it.

He’s noticed you staring, because of course he has, and he tilts his head. “What’s going on in that pretty little mind of yours?”

You can only smile, deliriously happy and wanting and both hot and cold - hot where the warmth burns uncontained, and cold everywhere his skin meets yours. “I love you.”

Your words must catch him by surprise, because it’s shock that meets his expression first. It fades away into affection, placing itself on his lips in a soft smile. “I - I love you too,” he answers, brushing a stray strand of your hair out of your face. “More than anything.”

He clears his throat and shifts, and as you feel his erection brush against you, only then do you remember the conversation you two had been having. Him between your legs. You, still needing him inside of you.

“I’m ready for you,” you breathe. “Please. I want you.”

“How could I say no?” he asks, leaning in and biting at the lobe of your ear.

He presses into you slowly, even though you don’t need it - not after the effects of the spores and your first climax still evident on your thighs. Only when he once again begins a slow, torturous pace do you realize that he’s doing it to tease you, and when you look up and find a certain amount of devious intent in his eyes, a shudder runs down your back.

He’s always seemed to enjoy watching you fall apart. How many times have you looked up in the middle of one of your late-night trysts to find his eyes on you, the darkened ruby gaze that seems as starved for you as his hunger for blood?

How many times has he eased your arm away from your face when you felt the need to hide yourself, and how many times has he gently pulled your hand away from your mouth so he could hear the noises you made for him?

There’s never really been a question about it; Astarion gets off on your pleasure, and the feeling is very, very mutual. Vulnerability aside, it does something beyond words to you to know how much he enjoys giving you pleasure. And, sure as the hells, you like to give it right back to him. So, keeping your gaze locked on his, you grind your hips down to meet him and let out a moan.

His jaw clenches and he swallows hard, his thrusts deepening as he props himself over you. You watch the lovely path of the action over the bob of his Adam’s apple, then flit your eyes back to his, letting out another noise.

“Gods,” he says, and his pace quickens. His hands wrap around your shoulders and he groans, panting as he rocks into you, his grip turning into something almost bruising.

Part of you desperately wants him to keep going - but the other part of you wants to give him something, and now seems the proper time for it. So you tilt your head to give him access to your neck and murmur a few, soft words, and he slowly comes to a halt: breathing heavily, nails digging into your skin as he tries to regain some semblance of composure.

He kisses down your jaw, slowly drags his teeth along the skin, then sinks his fangs into your neck. You’re used to the sharp pain of his bite, but it’s different today. Intensified. It’s as if his mouth on your skin, the barely-there pain, is salving through that fire and every single limb of yours goes slack with…

What is it? Pleasure? Affection? Relief? It’s something in between, something warm but not scorching, something sweet but not overly-saccharine. He starts moving his hips again and you’re instantly on the edge, planting your hands on his lower back underneath his scars and resisting the urge to dig your nails into the skin.

He’s drunk from you enough times since you met to know where the limit lies, even on the cusp of his climax. He drains you until you’re sufficiently lightheaded, but not enough to harm you, then pulls away, planting a messy kiss on your mouth.

Messy. It’s how you know he’s close. His actions are usually so graceful, his movements lithe and calculated. Only on the edge of orgasm do the pretenses fall away - his shaking thighs, soft moans into your lips, panting, blood smeared across his lips and almost certainly yours.

There’s a blinding moment of pleasure as he thrusts harder, deeper, neither of you caring about the level of noise you’re making, and your nails dig into his back. He lets out a groan of approval, then - gods, you’re climaxing again, your whole body trembling with the waves of pleasure that crash over you. Overwhelming at first, then receding into the brief moment of clarity that lasts a minute or two this time.

Then the spores start their work again.

The heat isn’t nearly as intense this time, but it’s still there. Part of you wonders if it’ll ever really fade. You lay still, gasping, as Astarion slowly pulls out of you. Then he brushes the damp hair out of your face and kisses you again.

“Darling,” he starts breathlessly, flashing a mischievous grin at you, “if this is where we’ll end up, you should fall into mysterious spores more often.”

You laugh, sending a playful, light hit toward his shoulder. He catches your hand mid-action, pressing a kiss to your palm, holding your gaze the entire time. “You’re not the one who feels like they’re on fire, Astarion.”

He hums, kissing back down your neck, cleaning up the remnants of blood from his bite. “I wouldn’t say that,” he says, his voice gravelly with want.

That gives you pause. “What do you mean?”

“Well,” he says with some effort, propping himself above you, “whatever those spores were - they seem to have entered your bloodstream, my dear. It’s - an interesting sensation, I’ll admit.”

You’re searching his face for a tell that he’s not being serious, but instead you find wide, blown out pupils, flushed cheeks, and nothing beside his usual mischievousness. Any blood left in your face quickly exits. “Gods, I didn’t even think. I’m so sorry-”

“Don’t be. I’m not.” He presses another soft kiss to your lips, and you see a small smear of your blood on his lips. When you lick your lips, you can taste the iron of it on your tongue.

Astarion is watching you. His gaze darkens, and he lets out another thin, broken groan. “Darling. At this rate, we’ll be going the whole night.”

And, honestly? With the rate the heat is returning - you don’t doubt it.

Still, you gently ease him off of you to sit up, then make your way into his lap and wrap your arms around his neck.

There’s something addictive about Astarion - there always has been. From the moment he’d had you against the dirt, a dagger to your neck, he’s been your fix.

In those first days when you’d had to hide your want for him - not even lust or sheer desire, but want; the ache to run your finger through silver curls, the warmth in your cheeks when he held your gaze just a moment too long, and the rare moments of vulnerability that came more and more as you’d gotten to know him - it had been torture.

And then he’d propositioned you. And all at once, you’d found yourself in a clearing under silver moonlight, alone with him, long before you ever knew the extent of what had been done to him - and after all this time, the craving for him, the need to lay beside him in the long nights and find him there come morning, has only ever gotten so much stronger.

The heat is somewhat bearable now. Enough to take a moment to admire him, head tilted as he gazes up at you, pure need simmering in his eyes. Dark, glinting rubies. His fangs, barely visible under parted lips. Flushed cheeks. That will fade before long; the rosiness of drinking never lasts more than a few minutes, but you admire it all the same.

“You’re beautiful.” The words are hushed. You hadn’t even meant to speak them, but your mind isn’t really yours at the moment, not wholly, not as firm as it should be. You feel half-drunk, half-needy.

The corners of his lips flick into a smile, and he raises a brow. “Oh?” he asks, clearly stealing for more flattery. “Do you think so?”

You lean in, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “You know I do.”

You gather a single, loose curl in your fingertips and gently roll it between your thumb and index finger, admiring the softness of it. You could use the same soaps, wash your hair with the same things he uses a thousand times over, and it’d never matter. It’d never be as soft as his.

“Anything in particular?” he asks. His voice is particularly airy; he’s battling between begging you for what he needs, and the compliments he likes so much.

You think back to when you’d first described him - that night beneath the stars, when he’d tossed the mirror aside and asked how you viewed him. Words hadn’t been enough then, and they still aren’t, but you’ll try.

“Your eyes,” you start, running your finger over his crow’s feet. “They change color in the light. Right now, they’re dark. Hungry. I can tell you want me, and I like that.”

His hands, which have strayed to the back of your thighs, tighten against your skin. “And? What else?”

The heat’s strength is back, clawing its way up your abdomen. “The way your hair curls around your ears,” you murmur.

He frowns, and you know you’ve gone too poetic. To distract him, you lean in and nip at the lobe of one, and any of his upset disintegrates.

“Gods,” he murmurs, bringing his hands up to your waist. “Darling, I can’t wait much longer-”

You’ve trailed down to his jaw, alternating between kisses and sharp little nips just like the ones he likes to give you, and the words die in his mouth in favor of a sharp inhale.

You won’t keep him waiting much longer. In fact, you have a plan. A plan that’d hatched from the moment you’d realized that the spores were in his system, too. Since you’d seen the hungry look in his eyes - every inch a predator circling around its prey.

Only, you’re not content to be the prey. You want to disarm him, and if any of the time you’ve spent together means anything, you’ve gotten very, very good at that.

His shirt is still on, so your hands are quick to remove it, tugging it away from cooling porcelain skin, silky under your fingers as you drag them down his sternum. He shudders, and you remember how it’d felt when he’d first touched you. If it’s anything like that, he’s probably dying to beg you for more.

Your lips soon follow the path your hands are sitting, taking your time with the softness of his abdomen before you pull his trousers away. He’s panting now, and a frenzied sort of desperation lies in his gaze when you look up at him.

And he’s hard again. Leaking.

You lightly trace your nails down his thighs, silently relishing in the way his breath hitches - the way his hips unconsciously buck toward you.

“Gods,” he says again, and though it isn’t a direct request, with the broken way it falls off his tongue, this time it is every bit a plea.

And you’re in a mood to please.

You take his cock in hand, swiping your thumb over the head, where precum is slowly leaking, and he lets out a long, breathy noise. You hum in response, taking his length between your lips, and the sound becomes strained, more needy. His hand gently makes its way into your hair, very lightly guiding you where he wants, but not forcefully.

You alternate between things: long, even movements of your mouth as you drag your tongue down the shaft, swirling your tongue around the head, then sucking him hard and slow. Eventually, simply following the guidance of his hand. His grip tightens in your hair - not painful, just encouraging - and his noises become more drawn out, less coherent.

When you pull away for a moment, using your hand to continue what your mouth had just been doing, you find him dangerously close. You press a kiss to the head and take him in again, increasing pace, accommodating him as you take him in as far as you possibly can, and he starts whimpering.

“Please,” he says, and if that isn’t a rare word to hear from him.

On another day, you might tease him, but you don’t want to. Not now, while he’s begging to have you. Instead, you take him as deep as you can again and suck harder. Astarion tugs at your hair and his thighs shudder and you know he’s close.

“Please,” he says again. “Gods, don’t stop.”

And you wouldn’t dream of it. What you can’t take into your mouth, you use your hand to stroke, and that’s it. He’s coming.

There’s something artful about it - the tremor that runs through him, the salty taste of him in your mouth, and those seeking, breathless sounds that come out of him as he spills onto your tongue. A long, shaky inhale as he pumps his hips, still chasing out his pleasure, then the trembling exhale as his mind starts to come back to him.

He doesn’t soften, and you don’t take your mouth off him. Not yet.

Usually, Astarion can be counted on for two orgasms, but if those spores are doing anything remotely like what they were doing to you, there’s certain to be much, much more than that.

“By the hells,” he murmurs airily, running a hand down your back. “You’re going to kill me, darling.”

You pull away for a moment, kissing at his abdomen, keeping his eyes locked on his as you do. “Does that mean you want me to stop?” you ask sweetly, trailing your nails along the skin of his thigh.

He swallows hard. “Gods, don’t,” he pleads.

And you don’t.

#astarion #astarion x reader #astarion ancunin #astarion x you #astarion x tav #baldurs gate 3 x reader #mywriting

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bodyans0ul · 2 months

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Taking you into the woods dressed up as little red riding whore I've been so obsessed with you for so long now this fucking uncontrollable rage that seeps through my veins, when lust and desire and the need to consume take over, youre so fucking beautiful the way the moon light reflects your silleutte, enchanted eyes that pierce the night sky with flowing locks of firey red hair gliding and dancing with the wind and eyes that sink into my soul, a little red dress that shines so brightly, you are innocence and purity I am lust and obsession desire and rage I am your hope and despair, this endless dream that haunts my every waking moment, I'm chasing you naked through the forest blind rage consumes me.

Your red dress getting caught on bushes ripping in tatters, your skin cut and blistered from the tree branches, your feet are bloody and swollen, and I'm chasing you naked in this cold, empty place. Nothing is slowing me down. The drive to get to you is like a beating drum driving me crazy. The closer I get, the louder the drumming becomes in my head.

Until that moment of pure terror and defeaning silence, my beating heart pounding out of my chest, when I finally catch up to you following the trail of torn clothing you leave behind, I can hear your sluggish steps, mud-soaked feet, you are tired and exhausted, you just want to collapse but you keep running, rage takes over me, and I start howling like a wolf, increasing my speed weaving through the thick shrubs, my body bleeding cuts all over, adrenaline keeping my blood pumping, coursing through me like ice, my body morphing into a frozen wasteland, and I scream out In the night sky, I'm going to fucking rape you. Do you hear me? I'm going to fucking rape you!!!!! I'm not going to stop until you're crawling away, my spent cock pressed into your cunt, my cum leaking out of you. I want to lick the fear off your face, turning you into my broken little brain-dead doll with eyes rolled back, tongues out, panting, just a complete mess of a girl, crumpled body trying to crawl away from me, cum leaking out of you.

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benkeibear · 1 month

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⋆꙳✧༄ Fearplay

꒰ ͜͡➸ You can run but you can't hide from your lover. You're nothing but a little bunny for his amusement until you're trapped and become his toy for pleasure as you shake in fear like a little leaf.

❖ Character: Sukuna

❖ Reader: female | AFAB

❖ Wordcount: 2498

❖ WARNINGS: Sub!reader, consensual noncon (safeword is mentioned but not used), fearplay, hunter and prey vibe, mean Sukuna, no prep, clit slapping/pinching, double penetration, anal, degradation and petnames, creampies, aftercare

The sound of your heartbeat thumping along with the soft steps of your bare feet across the tiles of this palace were the only things you could hear as you started running from your lover. Sukunas smirk was twisted with a sick fascination as your trembling legs carried you at such speed - but no matter how fast or far you run, he will always catch you. When he rose from his throne, you heard him chuckle, heavy steps following yours and you started breathing harder at the realization that he *will* get to you eventually. “I should give up, perhaps he won't go too rough if I surrender willingly,” you thought to yourself, but you shook the thought from your mind just as fast as it appeared. It was your idea after all, wanting to be chased and made to submit, yet you feared what he would do to you once he caught you.

With quick steps, you ran towards the library to hide away, feeling like hunted prey as you barricaded yourself in the smallest nook you found. Your heart was beating in a steady rhythm like a war drum and your breath eventually eavened out when minutes passed without hearing the thundering steps of the huge man. Sukunas steps were slow and calculated, knowing all your secret little hiding spots, so it was only a matter of time until he found you, or until his patience snapped and he took apart the entire palace so he could get to you.

The door creaked open slowly and you could see him enter the huge room with a small grin plastered on his face. “Come out, brat. I can hear you breathing,” he called out calmly, but there was a hint of danger in his voice. Unsure if he spoke the truth, you clasped your hands over your nose and mouth, willing yourself to hold your breath just to be sure, but his strong legs walked over to the direction you were hiding in. “Your heartbeat is giving you away, like a scared little rabbit.” His voice was mocking now as he simply lifted the table and threw it against a nearby shelf. The loud noise made you squeak and he crouched down to your eye level. “I found you,” Sukuna mused and his grin looked almost predatory when he held one hand out for you to take. “Come out and I promise I'll be gentle.” He cooed with fake sympathy, but you knew better than to trust him, so you quickly escaped your little hiding spot and ran past him.

His laugh echoed through the entire palace, mocking you as you took off running once again. The way he was so eerily calm scared you more than his usual blinding rage, but you saw a vein pop on his temple when you ran past him, knowing that you'd only aggravated him more and if he gets to you now, he will break you entirely - enjoying to watch you fall apart into a million pieces. Sukuna stepped out of the library and into the seemingly endless hallway where you were still running and it amused him. Taking a deep breath, he charged after you, only to rip away one of the carpets beneath your feet as you stepped on it, successfully tripping you. A small scream escaped your lips when the carpet was ripped away beneath your feet and your cheek was met with the cold tiles of the floor. Sukuna loomed over you with a wolfish grin, but just as he leaned over you, you kicked his face with all your strength, taking him off guard. “You fucking-” he cursed out and held his now bleeding nose while you scrambled to your feet, stumbling away as fast as you could towards the exit that led to the beautiful gardens. Your lover didn't even try to run after you, slow steps followed your hurried ones, but you didn't care, not when your escape was so close.

The moment you reached the door, you realized why he didn't run after you. While you were hiding in the library, Sukuna made sure the doors were locked or barricaded to block every single escape route. Frantically you kept throwing your body against the door, opening it inch by agonizing inch, but you felt his presence before it was enough to fit through. The shiver that ran down your spine left you freezing and unable to escape any further. “Are you done trying to run away?” His voice was eerily calm and it only served to scare you further. With pleading eyes, you looked up at the man in front of you, all four arms crossed, as he licked his lips upon watching you shiver. He looked like a solid mountain the way he towered over you and just anyone and you knew you had no chance to get past him, yet you tried.

His arm wrapped around you faster than you thought and he flung you over his shoulder ungracefully, as if you were a sack of potatoes and his laugh echoed through the halls along with each thundering step he took towards his quarters. “You're shivering like a fucking leaf,” he pointed out, amused as your shaking fists connected with his back in a desperate attempt to get out of his grasp. It was all part of the game, but his menacing aura did scare you. The uncertainty of what he's going to do with you, despite knowing a single word would put an end to this.

Without a care, you were tossed onto his obnoxiously large bed, where you bounced once or twice before scrambling away from him. “Don't touch me!” You spat at him and swatted one of his hands away from your face, which only made him chuckle. “And why do you think I care about your consent, little bunny?” He asked and dragged you towards him by yanking your ankle. You were now helplessly lying beneath the mountain of man and he mused at the way you hit and clawed at him. “Don't even think about kicking me. I'll break your legs and you can no longer use them at all,” he threatened and his words alone made you stop squirming, knowing he can snap your bones like they're little twigs. “Good girl,” he praised when you stopped fighting, the tongue on his abs licking over the exposed skin of your stomach where your shirt was riding up and the feeling of the wet muscle against your skin made you shiver profoundly. “Please,” you begged with a weak voice, a single tear threatening to roll down your cheek, but you didn't even know what you were begging for. If you wanted him to stop, why were you getting so wet?

Sukunas teeth were showing when he growled at you, registering the way you were rubbing your thighs together to relieve some of the pressure building up in your poor little cunt, confused about what your body should be feeling. Your lover was scary, which you knew ever since you first laid eyes on him. He was ruthless, a brute, but he would never seriously hurt you, he wants and needs you too much… or would he? You weren't entirely sure anymore when he ripped your shirt apart without further warning. Your fear-filled squeal made him chuckle yet again. You reminded him of a little bunny and he was the big bad wolf that was about to take from you what he wanted.

Sharp claw-like nails were draped over your exposed chest and stomach before easily removing your pants and undergarments. “Such a pliant little bunny for me. Tell me, are you scared of me?” He mused and his face was dangerously close to yours and all you could do was nod. “Good,” he rasped out and licked over your cheek just to see you shudder once again. Your breath grew uneven when his lower pair of arms forced your thighs apart as his upper pair of arms were busy playing with your perked nipples, harshly tugging and twisting them to hear your sweet whimpers. As much as he scared you, your body was reacting nothing but positively to your lover, your folds glistening with arousal when he looked at your exposed cunt. “Look how wet you are from just a few touches… Lucky you,” he mused out, not planning on prepping you much before taking what's rightfully his.

One pair of hands pinned your writhing form to the bed as the other took care of his pants in a quick manner until both his cocks rested heavy against your core. “Please don't,” you begged with teary eyes, knowing exactly how much it would hurt despite your wetness, but his eyes locked with yours with a sinister glint. “What if I do?” He asked challengingly and rubbed one of his tips through your soaked folds, only pushing the tip in. Just the tip was enough to get you to jolt away. Fear was evident by the way a thin layer of sweat started to build on your forehead and Sukuna only waited for you to say the safe word as he repeatedly fucked his tip into you. You stayed silent however and Sukuna was done playing around. Slowly, he leaned down so his mouth was right next to your ear. “You want me to break you, hm? Fuck you until you're nothing more than a hole for my cock to fuck?” He asked teasingly and pushed his entire length in with just one thrust. The pain of a thousand needles penetrated your body and left you gasping for air, but Sukuna enjoyed the sight of your tear-stained cheeks growing wetter with each thrust. His second cock rested heavy on your mound, rubbing over your clit each time the other plunged into you and despite the pain of getting stretched open this fast, you couldn't help but mewl, your body betraying you once again. “You little pain slut,” Sukuna mused and flipped you around, not wanting to see the cock-drunk expression on your face when he would much rather listen to your sweet cries as he used your cunt like nothing but a mere pocket pussy.

While two hands held onto your hip so tight you were sure it would bruise up, one hand rested on the back of your head to make sure your screams and pleas remained muffled by the pillows. Your back was forming a beautiful arch with the way he held your hips up and his fourth hand came to play with your clit, never quite giving you what you crave. No matter how hard you tried to buck your hips or move them away from the small taps his palm was delivering, his iron grip on them wouldn't let you. “Try that again and I'll make sure it will hurt,” he threatened, his voice sounding strangled when your cunt only tightened at that. But your body acted on its own with the next slap to your little clit, flinching away while a cute whine escaped your lips, followed by a shrill shriek when two of his fingers pinched your clit delicately but enough to hurt. “I told you not to move, didn't I?” He warned you and rubbed small circles onto your abused pearl to ease the pain, but your walls started to flutter around his cock. Sobs and cried out moans getting muffled by the pillow beneath you.

The hand that was holding your head down grabbed onto your hair to pull you up ever so slightly. “Your cunt is so tight… Think I can make both of them fit?” Sukuna asked and looked into your puffy eyes, but you shook your head frantically. You only managed to take both his cocks into your cunt twice and both times required lots of prep and right now you were already struggling to accommodate one of his cocks inside of you. Despite the shaking of your head, the man above you didn't care. He wanted to feel you wrapped around both of his heavy cocks and he would make them fit, one way or another. Wrecked cries echoed through the bedroom as he repeatedly tried - and failed - to push his second tip into your tight cunt. Only when he let go of your hips for a moment you tried crawling away from him, not wanting him to try again, but your little attempt at escape only amused him.

Swiftly, you were pulled back onto his length, which made you feel impaled and incredibly full, but Sukuna frowned angry at you. “Where do you think you're going, little bunny?” He asked and his big hands spread your ass for him. “I think I can try another way for you to take both cocks,” he chuckled and spat onto your puckered hole, pleas and sobs falling from your lips once again. You were used to taking him like this, but the situation just made it seem so impossible for you until you felt him penetrate your ass too. Your legs started to shake violently from the feeling of being filled up in both holes as Sukuna wrapped his hands around your waist as he fucked into you. He was using your body as a mere tool for his pleasure, lifting you up and down both of his cocks and getting off to your mewls and whimpers of his name.

It only took one of his hands caressing your clit again, alternating between rubbing it and tapping it, until you came from the forceful penetration. Sukuna followed soon after you since you were milking him, walls clenching around him like a vice. “Fuck-” he groaned as his hot seed spilled deep inside of you and it felt like you were overflowing. A low growl escaped his throat when both of your orgasms slowly ceased and all that was left to be heard was heavy breathing along with the softest whimpers coming from you. With a small hiss, Sukuna pulled his cock out of your ass and watched his seed flow out for just a moment before turning you around, still impaled on his second length. Four strong arms wrapped around your body just to pull you close to his chest, a thin veil of sweat covering him, but you didn't care, your shaky arms holding onto him as little sobs wrecked through your body. “Shh, you're okay,” he gently cooed, holding you close until the emotions washed off again. It felt intense, the shift of the air and the man you just loathed and feared for using you like a toy was your beloved man again, searching for love and safety in his strong arms. Sukuna wasn't one to be soft, but for you, he tried, especially when all it took was as simple as holding you close to him. It was a form of possessiveness for him, which seemed oddly comforting to you, being his.

Networks: @enchantedforest-network @themovingcastlez

#Rhy sins ♡#jjk x reader #jjk smut #sukuna x reader #sukuna smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk Sukuna #sukuna #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x you #sukuna x you

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