#this song has me in a violent choke hold | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thatfreshi · 9 months

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Could I request an Astarion/GN!reader(Tav) where reader has trauma around their throat being touched and stuff but bears through the panic attacks just so Astarion can feed and Astarion only finds out after they make camp and confronts reader/Tav about their mental breakdown after a battle they had prior in the day?(reader got grabbed forcefully by the neck?) Essentially a bit of angst and comfort?

Set in act 2!!

TW - choking, panic attack, disordered eating behaviors

Recommended Song: Don't Invest In Me - Adam Melchor

Battle is horrifying, something Astarion never truly quite realized until he fell in love you with. He's talented, especially at killing people. He's never had to worry in a fight, because it was always just him. Now he has to worry about you, and it's painful, not being able to be by your side constantly, watching you in perilous situations, looking death right in the eye. When your group ran into a few violent adventurers yesterday, you weren't expecting any trouble. Suddenly, metal clashing, magic moving through the trees. Astarion moved quickly, offing one of the offenders almost immediately. When he turned to see who was next, bloodlust in his eyes, he saw you being held by the throat. You were frozen, running out of oxygen, tears welling at your eyes. He ran through the trees, running his blade through your captor's back.

"Tav? My dear, are you alright?"

You can't speak, utterly shocked. No one had ever tried to choke you in the throes of battle, and it reminded you of awful things, things that were better left unsaid. He checks you for any other wounds as you're trapped in your own mind. The fighting continues, but he doesn't care. All that matters is you, the others can handle themselves just fine. And if not, that's their loss, not his.

After thoroughly checking you over, he can't find anything else of concern. The bruising on your neck though, it's black and blue already. Racing thoughts, wondering if there's been any lasting damage. He can't decide if he should be more concerned about the fact that you're practically frozen in place or if your windpipe is destroyed.

"The fuck are you doing? We have shit to deal with!"

Karlach silences her complaints when she sees you lying on the ground. Astarion doesn't even look up at her, afraid. He's only ever truly had one thing, one thing that was his, and that's you. Everything else feels so impermanent, but you? You're constant.

"Astarion! Astarion!"

She yells out his name until he finally snaps back to look at your tiefling friend.

"Take Tav back to camp, we've got it covered."

Karlach then runs off, back to assist Wyll with a shadow-covered half-elf. You groan in pain, your neck on fire. As you start to come back to reality, you realize you're in the vampire's arms, a vampire currently moving through the dark as quickly as possible. Neither of you have lights on you, but he knows there are still torches lit at camp, he just has to get there before the shadow curse starts to take hold. You're light-headed, both from lack of oxygen and the panic attack.

"Where...?"

"Hush darling, it's alright. We're almost there, almost to camp."

Through a couple more feet of trees, the two of you make it, bathing in the warm light of the torches posted behind the brush. He takes you back to your tent, where your bedrolls lie side by side. He silently curses himself for not knowing any healing magic, promising himself he'll finally learn after this.

"Aster?"

You call out groggily.

"Yes my love, I'm right here."

Ceasing the nervous pacing, he sits by your side.

"What... what happened?"

He almost doesn't want to say, worried about how you reacted while it was happening.

"One of the shadow-cursed, they... they had you in a nasty chokehold, and I killed them."

You shift, wishing he didn't have to know about all of this.

"Sorry."

"About what darling? You've done nothing wrong."

"About not telling you- not telling you about it."

You're gasping to get your words out, your throat clearly damaged. He furrows his brow in concerned confusion.

"I- I really don't like people touching my neck, doing anything to it to be honest. Wasn't expecting one of them to grab me like that."

Coughing at the end of your sentence, you don't see Astarion's eyes travel through his thoughts, realizing what that means.

"Darling... you let me feed off of you almost every evening."

You smile a little.

"I know."

He grabs one of your hands, clasping it in both of his.

"I'll never do it again. I'm so sorry, I had no idea."

Frantic, worried he's done something irreversibly wrong.

"No, no Aster it's okay. Does it suck sometimes? Yeah, but I need you to be healthy. Besides, what's a better way to work through your trauma than exposure therapy?"

"That's not fair. I can find something else, some other way."

"And what, go back to forest animals? You know there's nothing for you out here, in the darkness."

"Then I'll simply starve! Done it before, I'll do it again."

Gods, he's stubborn. You don't blame him, he would never want to cross anyone's boundaries after his have been trampled a million times.

"My love, come here."

You reach out, beckoning to pull him down beside you.

"If I didn't want to do it, I wouldn't. You need to feed, and I can provide that. You do plenty for me, let me do this one thing for you."

"But, but you hate it."

"Yeah. Those two things can coexist, my hate for people touching my neck, and my love for you. I can put up with the anxiety if it means you're okay."

"I would be okay though."

You cup his face in your hand, making sure he's looking at you.

"I'm telling you I'm okay, and that you deserve more than rats. Okay?"

You've been around him long enough, you know his logic. If he survived for two hundred years living off of flies and rats, he certainly doesn't need blood like yours. If he had starved for an entire year, he could take a few months before getting to Baldur's Gate. Sometimes you have to remind him that survival mode isn't living, that he's allowed to have nice things. Tears fall from his eyes.

"Are you sure my sweet? Absolutely certain?"

"Of course, and if I ever needed you to stop I would tell you, promise."

You put your pinky out, and he stares at it.

"What... what are you doing? Is this you offering me to feed off a singular finger? Because if so, that's uh-"

"No, gods! It's a pinky promise."

"A... a what?"

You start laughing, so hard that you start coughing again, tears falling down your face.

"You've never heard of a pinky promise?"

It pulls at your heart a little, realizing he probably never had anyone teach him.

"I guess I haven't."

You put your pinky out, and he does the same, and then you hook yours, interlacing the small finger with his.

"There, I pinky promise that I'll tell you if you need to stop feeding on me."

As you pull your hand away, he looks confused.

"And that's what, some non-verbal contract?"

"I guess so Mr. Magistrate."

You start laughing again.

"Okay, you have thoroughly scared me, and made me cry, and teased me, in one night! I'm not sure how much more I can take."

There's a hint of humor in his tone. Honestly, he also thinks it's ridiculous that he was a magistrate, considering he was terrible at it, at least from the small things he remembers.

"Well, it's over now. I'm okay, and we're safe."

He narrows his eyes.

"I'm still going to have Shadowheart look over you when the rest return."

"Well, that's your fault for not learning healing magic."

"Okay, you don't know any magic, so I don't want to hear it!"

The two of you stay up for hours, laughing at stupid jokes, hysterical from the tragedy that evening. Sometimes after something horrible, you just need a good laugh, especially with your easily provoked lover.

#astarion #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #fluff #comfort #angst

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satorhime · 2 years

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★ ⋆ ࣪ CALL 1-800-BOYFRIEND#2 ! an anthology | ˚｡jjk men x female reader ᨀ minors do not interact˓˓ aged up!characters, infidelity, toxic relationships, explicit smut, unprotected sex, creampies, degradation, squirting, praise kink, + more content warnings listed before each piece! ˚｡ FEATURING ᨀ fushiguro toji, gojo satoru, getou suguru, nanami kento, fushiguro megumi, itadori yuuji. ˚｡ SUMMARY ᨀ whenever you get in the mood, just call boyfriend number two! a collection of smut works inspired by the song boyfriend #2 - pleasure p; ꒰ PLAYLIST ꒱

★ ⋆ 𝐠𝐨𝐣𝐨 𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮 ᨀ ࣪exes with benefits, ex boyfriend!gojo, belly bulges, cervix fucking.

you knew that it was wrong to invite him in while your boyfriend is waiting and let him fuck you, but how can you possibly atone for your sins when the closest thing to a god is the one helping you commit them between dirtied sheets?

“you gonna answer that, angel?” satoru taunts over the cheerful chime of your ringing cellphone. five missed calls from your boyfriend piled up in your notification center and he refuses to give up. your heart plummets down at the sound, sitting right next to the pretty bulge of your ex-boyfriend's cock in your lower belly as he fucks you mercilessly.

your tongue may be barbed with insults for him after your break up, but your pussy is still honeyed and sweet as ever to him. making the cutest noises, splitting like a good girl for the delicious stretch of his cock. he's got you embarrassingly fucked out too, ruining you before your date— lipstick smudged, thighs possessed by bruises from his teeth, all the while he's busy fucking his thick load back into your cunt from the first round.

“i recommend answering it, huh? tell him you're all taken care of, angel. don't want him comin' to your rescue when you're about to cum for me, now do we?”

“w-wait, i need to-” you choke, hand scrambling to find the phone somewhere in the soaked sheets— wanting to answer for your boyfriend even as your back curls off the bed when gojo fucks it just right, the fat mushroom tip of his cock bullying your cervix with each bruising thrust. “h-hold on a minute, f-fuck- slow down, my boyfr-”

he rolls his eyes, finding your phone easily and tossing it on top of the lewd bounce of your tits— a sneer on his lips as he fucks into your cunt with nasty, possessive ruts of his hips that sloshes slick and cum out of your abused little hole in a frothy drool that you can feel dripping down the line of your ass. he has no intention of slowing down or stopping so you squeeze your eyes shut, sucking your lower lip into your mouth to stifle your noises and finally, pick up the ringing hotline.

“hnnng h-hello?”

“hey, baby!” your boyfriend of one year greets cheerfully, oblivious and sweet. he upset no balances in the world with his birth and he isn't the strongest of anything— he's just a kind man, attentive and storybook romantic; the kind you dreamt of, but that doesn't stop you from letting satoru fuck you whenever he wants. “takes a while for my pretty girl to get ready, huh? know you're going to look amazing, too, but.. our dinner reservation was at 8. where are you?”

satoru snorts, shifting his hips to drag your attention back to him. your heart clenches at the same time your pussy does, cock catching you on a good fuck that shoots white hot pleasure simmering through your nerves. it's too much— you claw at his arms with one hand while the other shakes against the phone.

“i-i'm on my way soon, baby. sorry, oh my f- h-hah...” your lower lip wobbles as you fight the urge to cry out, dewy tears clinging to your lashes. gojo is relentless, bringing a violent tremble to your thighs as he lowers a hand between your legs, the calloused pads of his fingertips rubbing raw circles over your clit so good you drop the phone onto your chest.

“hello? babe, what's wrong?! are you there?” you can hear your current boyfriend's staticky voice on the other end while your ex leans forward, bracketing your head with his strong arms as he mouths wet kisses along the soft skin at your jaw; sucking the lobe of your ear onto his tongue.

“tell him this pussy is mine, you little slut. see how good 'm fucking you? where else are you gonna get it this good? don’t you want me back? wanna be able to fuck on this dick any time you want?” he growls, sickly sweet into your ear, the yandere tone of his voice rumbling shivers into your skin. “tell him who it belongs to or i will.”

“i-i can't- can't do that to him, 'toru-” you blubber, even though you want to. miss the way dating satoru made you feel complete. salty tears spill down your cheeks that gojo sweeps away with his tongue like a lazy cat lapping at his favorite bowl of milk.

his fingers quickly flick and twist overstimulation under the hood of your swollen clit until he feels your pussy squeezes around the stretch of his cock, cackling in response as he gets what he wants. he’s breaking you down, got you on the ropes. “see? this pussy knows what she wants, even if you don't,” he groans out too loud, hips stuttering and sloppy now, a rhythm that fucks you open while all you can do is sob and writhe like the wanton little whore you are.

“who the fuck is that- hello? hello? what's going on? are you okay?”

gojo is high off the power trip of your moans and though he knows that rubbing it in is breaking the ultimate code, his free hand's picking up the phone before he knows it—

“'toru- satoru, n-no-” you whine out, but he jerks his hips hard against yours to shut you up, lodging his cock so deep inside your pussy, your mind short circuits.

“yo!” gojo greets into the receiver, voice winded but clear. he's mockingly casual as he tucks the phone between his cheek and shoulder to free up his hands, as if he is discussing the latest gossip with a friend, his fingers digging prints into your hipbones.

“who the fuck is this?” you hear your boyfriend demand in confusion and you lurch forward to take the phone away, but the force of his cock lays you flat.

“i'm sure our girl's told you about me, yeah? the only one who broke her heart, the one who can't settle down, the one you're so much better than. blah blah blech- name's satoru!” he introduces himself and grins wide, glancing down at you. his pretty ex-girlfriend whines against his shoulder, thrashing against the sheets as he fucks that bubble in your lower belly to bursting. fucks you like no one else can. “anyways, cock's- oops, i meant cat's- got her tongue right now so i wanted to let you know that she won't be able to make it to your date tonight... ain't that right, baby?” he hums, holding the phone out to you so your boyfriend on the other line can hear the sweet, traitorous sounds of your moans as you cream on another man's cock. “yep, that's right. she finally decided to come home. where you should go too, man.”

gojo doesn't elaborate further, clicking the little red icon to end the call with a winner’s smirk on his lips and then his attention is back to you, on fucking a bellyache into you with his skilled fucking and your boyfriend's name out of you, the lewd sound of your slick gurgling out of your perfect little pussy sounding like sin. gojo's fingers are back on your clit, pinching it hard. “now back to you, angel face. cum for your boyfriend.”

★ ⋆ 𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐢 𝐤𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐨 ᨀ college!au, professor!nanami, student!reader, blowjobs, desk sex, semi-public sex in a classroom, use of "sensei" to address kento.

kento is the last of your professors you would have expected to keep you company while you cry over your boyfriend who would rather spend drunken nights out at frat parties, but you are quickly finding out that fucking your pretty little body is professor nanami's favorite after school activity.

“keeping yourself busy down there?” nanami has the nerve to inquire while you're on your knees under his desk, putting in real work for the title of his best student.

your expression is dazed and full of wonderment, a cute wrinkle between your brows at the way you are actually able to fit your professor's cock inside your mouth, nose pressed to the tamed patch of sandy hairs at his crotch. it's amazing how it can erase all bad thoughts of your neglectful lover from your mind and you worship it greedily. nanami's thick thighs spread wide, cafe au lait eyes gazing down at you over the top of his round reading glasses while you suckle on his cock like a lollipop. it's heavy against your tongue, weighing it down with the strain and drooling sweet opaque drops of precum down the slope of your throat. he barely makes a sound, but he rewards you with a jolt of his hips each time you swallow a drop of it with a whine.

“aaa-atta girl, just like that, huh? why don't you do that thing for me?” he drawls out in an appraising tone, lax in his chair.

you obediently draw back, eager to please him. you grip his wet cock gently in your small hold, kitten licks into the sensitive slit before you wedge your tongue under the head, sucking over a fat, forked vein. he is composed, the picture of professionalism during his working hours but you are the only one who is allowed the pleasure of seeing nanami kento with his hair mussed, glasses askew as you suck him wet between the legs. sleeves rolled up as one hand pins his pressed white shirt out of the way while the other rests on your head, petting your soft hair with affection.

“fuck, little darling- that mouth will be death of me,"” he breathes and you suck him down slow on the pull in, letting the tip of his cock nudge against the fleshy patch of your throat before tears spring into your eyes and you bounce back with a wet gag— bathing in the way that he hisses, in the way that you make him feel. he doesn't regurgitate bad lines from porn like your boyfriend does, but his grunts of pleasure and soft praise shoot like fallen stars across your pussy, making you sneak a hand into your sopping panties, immediately sinking two fingers past your entrance with a whine, the vibration like a hot rubber band around nanami's dick.

“wan’ you to fuck me now, p-please.”

“e-easy there. i'll take care of you. stop that and come here,” he coos, hooking an arm under your elbow as he drags your mouth away from his cock.

“o-oh-” your professor spins you around, bending you over his desk. he takes care in folding your skirt up, his big hands kneading the globes of your ass cheeks in a gentle circle. you wriggle your hips back desperately until you bump against his damp cock, squirming on the desk over his ungraded papers, takeout flyers, and seminar invitations.

“k-kento-sensei, hurry up, please-” you simper, eyes glazed over and glossy with lust for him already.

“i'm right here, doll,” he reminds you and he's in a good mood— he doesn't like impatience or insolence, but he lets you rut your ass against his crotch for friction until he stills your hips with a click of his tongue. “you don't have anywhere to be, after all. that fella of yours is at that party you were crying over, isn't he?”

your lips plump out in a pout, about to scold him for reminding you, but the words shrivel on your tongue as he edges forward to tug your panties down to the middle of your thighs, spreading one ass cheek to the side and exposing your pussy to the air. you're so pretty and wet for him, hole fluttering and glossy with slick.

“how badly do you want it?” kento chuckles under his breath, barely nudging his cockhead into the entrance to your cunt. your professor does not fuck like your boyfriend. he doesn't believe in ten minutes of sloppy, selfish fucking that leaves you unsatisfied. even with the risk of someone walking in, he is a man unhurried. he waits, petting two fingers between your folds. “hmm?”

“want it real bad, real real bad!”

“tch, have i taught you anything? use proper vocabulary when you beg for my cock.”

“once upon a midnight dreary, while i pondered, weak and weary, over how your cock would feel fucking me silly,” you smile cheekily into the strewn papers, arching your ass further against his hips in invitation.

“naughty girl, don’t ruin the classics,” the tiniest of smiles quirks his lips at your antics, snuffing out a laugh.

but nanami gives you what you’re begging for. he is discovering that refusing you is becoming increasingly difficult. his fingers curl around your waist, tugging your body down his desk until he impales your little pussy on his cock. the stretch is painstakingly slow, forcing you to feel every fucking inch, every ridge and vein— dragging along your walls in an overwhelming sensation. you scramble to grab purchase into the desk, mouth slacking open with a long grunt as you press your forehead to the desk.

“good girl. look how well you take me, hmm? if only you could listen so well in class, too,” he hums in approval, watching the way your pussy expands as he draws out, only to suck him in nice and tight as he plunges back into the warmth of your cunt. you've always been his worst student, combative and mouthy— barely able to sit through the nasally drawl of his lessons with your impatience, so it's no surprise when you drop your head onto his desk, gripping the edge as you bounce yourself back against his hips.

“did i tell you that you could-” but his reprimand is shut off with a sharp grunt, his hips stuttering while you tremble and frantically fuck your cunt on his cock at a quick pace, the pleasure coiling in your lower belly hard and fast. “oh, is that what you wanted? to cum?”

“yuh-yes! i-i need t' cum, kento-sensei!”

“cum then, call my name instead of his when you gush all over my cock. go on, love.”

★ ⋆ 𝐟𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐨 𝐭𝐨𝐣𝐢 ᨀ age gap (toji is in his 40s, reader is in 20s), babysitter!au, mean!toji, car sex, cowgirl, breeding kink.

toji wasn't a nice man, but he had well-behaved kids and secretly tipped you bonuses on days you wore short dresses or skirts to the house as if you wouldn't notice. it wasn't uncommon for him to give you a ride home whenever it gets too late, even if his dark eyes linger on your thighs the entire time. crawling into his lap like a money hungry little whore and unzipping his jeans in the front seat of his car after he offered you five hundred dollars to see if you could fit his cock inside you was new, though.

toji used a safety pin to tack the wad of fresh green dollars against your tank top with a crooked grin, as if you were a birthday girl. he moves the cash now to pull your tank top aside and expose one of your nipples, the little bud puckered up from the blast of the air conditioner behind you.

“m-mr. fushiguro, i have a boyfriend- mmph!” you whine in protest, a contradiction after you crawled across the center console with a competitive glint sparkling in your eye, the steering wheel of his jeep digging into your lower back.

you don't remember how the conversation started, but it ended with you in his lap and your bank account a half thousand richer. you should be disgusted, toji is sleazy— he'd rather spend time chasing after loose women than raising his children and he stares at your tits mid-conversation, but no. to you, he is the epitome of a dilf, all bulky and rugged lines and dark edges. and that's why you moan for his big, rough hands sliding under your simple tank top, cunt oozing slick for the father of two.

“that so? why're you grindin' all over my lap then, little girl? get off 'n' get outta my car if you're scared,” he growls, even though he knows you’re not running anywhere while he's got your skin feverish and sweaty as he tweaks one of your nipples, pinching the perky bud between two fingers. the sly smirk he wears on his scarred lip both irritates you and simmers arousal between your hips. you swear that your hips move on their own accord, bumping into the weighty girth of his cock that you forgot is sitting wedged beneath your ass. “yeah, you ain't going nowhere, are you? like it when nasty old men stare up your skirts and down your shirts, dontcha?”

his filthy words have your folds messy, leaving a damp patch on your cotton shorts. you move before you can stop yourself, reaching nimble fingers between the shadow of your bodies to unbutton his jeans, tugging his cock out with saliva drooling in your mouth. you wish that you could see it, but you can feel it, stomach lurching. the wide, blunt head twitching fat against your palm before toji is manhandling you, jerking your cotton shorts to the side and forcing you to grind your bare cunt along the length of his cock.

“let’s see where all my money is going to, eh?” he grunts at you, each of his huge hands are between your legs now, prying your folds open with his thumbs as you circle your clit against the surface of his cock. “so easy too- don't know if i want a little whore like you around my kids, hah. look at how wet you are for a man you ain't dating,” he rasps out in a salty, degrading tone, pinching one of your folds before he wraps fat fingers around his cock to hold it steady.

“y-you're so mean, mr. fushiguro,” you sigh out blissfully, not caring in the least bit when his cock rubs against your clit, creating delicious friction.

“yeah, and you're fuckin' slow. sit on my cock already or gimme my money back.”

your legs are split over the wide planes of his thighs, so snapping them shut isn't an option when he presses you back against the steering wheel, the horn beeping pathetically, pushing his thick cock into your sopping pussy.

your eyes widen at the overwhelming twinge of intrusion as toji feeds you every inch of his veiny girth— your hips having no choice but to drop into his lap and take his cock. watery tears prickle your eyes because it hurts so fucking good. he's the biggest you've ever had to fuck yourself on, bigger and wider than your boyfriend, twice as fat as he is long. but that doesn't stop you from levelling your weight down, letting your cunt sink and sink and sink, until finally he's so fucking deep that your clit is buried in his pubic hair and your ass is pressed up against his heavy balls.

“what's going on with this tight little pussy, mm? this guy not fuckin' you right, doll face?” he wolf whistles at the feeling of your cunt slobbering around him, desperately trying to accommodate his massive girth. “c'mon, move. don't sit there tremblin' on me like a fuckin' leaf.”

“f-fuck, too much it's big- so big, mr. fushiguro-”

“can't take it a cock this grown, doll?”

“i-i don’t know-” you whimper, but you don’t want to lose. hiding your face onto his shoulder, pleasure surges through your veins, dopamine fogging your brain as you lift out of his lap until the tip of his cock pops on your entrance. a devastating, heavy drop of your hips that spears you on his weighty dick, building up a rhythm that has you whining and creaming all over toji's cock. images of the man you've been dating flashes through your mind before your thoughts are clouded by the single father of two fucking you towards an orgasm. your pussy gushes, the bulb of your plump clit rubbing against the hard ridges of his abdomen.

“you want my cum? want me to plug you up all nice and full?” he grunts out the question, his breath fanning hot across your cheeks in the dark shadows of his car.

“yuh-yes! want your cum, want you to plug me up! want you to give me a baby,” you chant in a lusted moan, eyes rolling shut as he dips his head to your breasts where they've bounced out of the side of your tank top, suckling one of your nipples onto his tongue with a rough chuckle.

“woah now, who said anything about you havin' one of my rugrats? you like watching 'em that much?” he lifts a thick brow, but he would be lying if he said it didn't make his cock twitch inside of you. if it didn't make him rut his hips up into you with deep, low grunts in the depths of his chest. he bares his teeth, pinching your nipple between his sharp canines in a hard bite, throwing you off the edge—you drop your hips, cunt spreading around the base of his cock and creaming all over him as you cum, squirt dripping on his leather seats.

“fuck, oh fuck. you’re so tight, ain’t ya? you want my runts so bad, take every fuckin' drop of my cum, little slut, ‘n’ don’t complain about it,” his abdomen tightens at the feeling of your cunt spasming around him, his cock jerking as he heat washes over his body, shooting thick, wet ropes of seed into your cunt.

★ ⋆𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮 ᨀ stranger!suguru, hookups, bathroom sex, cunnilingus, panty sniffing, tongue piercings.

he was dark and alluring, ensnaring your attention like a siren calling across the dance floor. you should have declined his offer to buy you a drink and he should have bid you goodnight when you told him you were taken, so how did you end up here?

“aren't you precious?” the stranger purrs breathily into the drum of your ear, breath the scent of cigs and mint as he advances on you, crowding you up against the cool sink. thankfully, the bathroom is clean and there is a lock on the door, hiding you away from your friends and their judgmental eyes. “you couldn't resist following me here, even though your friends are worried and there is someone waiting at home for you. i'll make your betrayal worthwhile, don't worry.”

your breaths wheeze out in a fog, his accusation burning hot but the handsome stranger is reaching under the hem of your mini dress to soothe the sting of his words, slipping your panties down your thighs. there's a cheshire smirk on his thin lips, rows of perfect teeth gleaming in delight to find you dripping for him already— the fabric clinging to your folds, connected by sticky strings of slick.

“these are a nice pair- i hope you'll forgive me, pretty,” he hums, inspecting the lace before gathering the damp panties in his hand and bundling them against his nose, an audible sniff snorting through the quiet that warms your cheeks in embarrassment. “you smell fucking divine, too. it's a shame that boyfriend of yours won't be able to take them off at the end of tonight.”

they're your favorite set, navy blue fenty lace that you wore to boost your confidence. that you planned to seduce your beau into ripping off of you when you stumble in from the club. instead, here you are, heart beating behind your ribs in the dark corner of a bathroom as a complete stranger tucks your panties into the pocket of his black jeans.

“d-don't talk about him like that- and give those back! i don't even know your name,” you hiss, irritation twisting your face at the nerve of this infuriatingly attractive no-name, but the raven-haired man looks unimpressed with your fervor as he circles his spindly hands around your hips and hoists you onto the sink, adjusting your thighs until one of your feet are propped up on the surface of the counter, spreading you wide for him.

“you'll know my name soon, don't worry,” he promises, the rolling drawl of his lilt making you shiver. the cold air breezes relief against your bare, feverish cunt as he presses close to you, settling in between the space of your open legs. he trails hot kisses over the pulse point at your neck, where your perfume is sweetest. your head lolls to the side with a lustful sigh, eyes butterflying closed as his teeth nip against the skin of your collarbone.

you gasp when you feel his fingers slip between your legs to shift through your drooling slit, your leg accidentally jolting off of the counter as he draws teasing figure eights into your clit. arms wrapping around his broad shoulders, your fingertips caress the long inky ponytail waving down his back, accidentally untying the leather strip holding it together.

“o-oh, your fingers-” you gargle, a soft moan spitting from your lips. he draws the digit down your slit, pushing the long appendage into your pussy, curling it up on the slow drag out, combing along your walls.

“call a new name tonight, precious. suguru. say it and i'll give you whatever you need.”

“s-suguru-” his name whines off your tongue so prettily as he fucks his finger into you languidly; your hips angle down, trying to suck it in deep and trapping his hand against the counter, but it's not enough— clamping down on it, but greedy for more. for a thicker stretch, for the cock you felt pressed up against you on the dance floor. you reach for the zipper of his jeans, but suguru angles his hips away with a tut. “i thought you said-”

“i promised i would give you what you need, pretty. not what you want,” he says, and then he's dropping to his knees. he's so tall that his head is level with your pussy up on the counter. he hooks his hands under the seat of your ass and scoots you to the edge of the counter, until you're on the edge of his own personal dinner table. his dark, crescent eyes trained directly on the juices webbing your folds together and the sight of your hole, unstretched and eager for him. “let me open you up first.”

his tongue swipes out, wetting his lips and you catch a glimpse of a silver jewel embedded in the pink flesh. glinting in the dim light of the bathroom— his tongue piercing and oh god, the sight of it has your cunt clenching around emptiness in want. he tilts his head forward, dark waves of hair falling like a smokescreen over his shoulders.

he spits on your pussy, a thick, bubbly glob of it trailing down your slit before he licks it up. long laps up your folds, the hard ball of his piercing making you squirm and gasp out, fingers sinking into his soft hair before you slip down to his ears, pressing your fingertips to the black gauges hooked in the lobes— causing him to suck in a sharp breath. suguru's lips are warm and wet, skilled as he secures a soft suck around your clit that draws your vision to a cross.

“oh my-”

“you like that, do you?” he smiles, eyes shaping to moons in glee— burying his head between your legs. he massages his piercing against your clit. hot stimulation and wet kisses over your cunt as the bass of club music thrums behind the bathroom door, stiffening his tongue for a harder lick. he swipes a few times against your clit until it swells, sweeping his tongue to your hole, curling his tongue inside to taste where you're leaking the most.

“i-i like it so much, sugu-” you moan and the shortened sound of his name on your tongue makes him snarl, roping his arms around your thighs and hooking you open for him. renewed in the way he slurps up the clear slick drooling out of your cunt before fucking it back in, the squish of his tongue flicking against your walls turning you limp— flaming your sensitive nerves with each heavy swipe. the sharp line of his perfect nose bumps your clit, sweet friction that has you drooping back against the sink mirror, widening your legs shamelessly.

“can't believe you're letting a stranger eat out a pussy this sweet- wonder if you'll let me fuck it too,” you feel like sobbing at the thought of being filled with his cock. your cunt squeezes his tongue desperately and he draws back, up to your clit where you're most sensitive at. putty in his grasp as he pulls the swollen nub onto his tongue, suctioning you in deep until you feel an orgasm tingling in your lower belly.

“i'm going to cum, suguru-” you whistle out breathlessly, clawing at his scalp. he grunts and pries your cunt apart with three wide fingers.

“what are you waiting for, pretty? cum for me.” it's not the cock you wanted, but his fingers are experienced— curling out and prodding in deep, switching and spreading until they push right against that sweet spot inside of you.

“o-oh-” gut lurching, your orgasm bubbles up fast as suguru fucks that spot until you cum, cunt pulsing rapidly. you sink, nerves raw and thighs shaking.

you're still tingling when he stands to his feet, his chin and nose covered in your slick. the handsome stranger rubs his fingers along your lips until you part them and suck them onto your tongue, eyes fluttering closed as you taste yourself on his skin. suguru unlinks his belt and your heart dips in lust at the sound of it.

“clean me up and i'll give you my cock up next, pretty girl.”

★ ⋆ 𝐟𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐨 𝐦𝐞𝐠𝐮𝐦𝐢 + 𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐢 𝐲𝐮𝐮𝐣𝐢 ᨀ best friend!au, no cheating, threesome, spitroasting, cum eating.

“you ever wondered what it would be like if we fucked each other?” yuuji joked, and though you and megumi swatted at him and berated his bad humor, you never expected a normal saturday night with your best friends to end up like this. with yuuji's tongue down your throat and megumi's lips on your breasts while the two of them fucked into each other's hands.

megumi knows that he should say something— he should say that what the three of you are doing is wrong. you're all best friends, empty red solo cups litter the floor of itadori's funky bedroom, but his mind is too full of cotton and cheap booze and he is entranced.

there is no way he can tear those jadestone green eyes away from the way you're begging for both of their cocks, from the way you writhe and whine on the bed as megumi and yuuji both play with your puffy clit, their fingers bumping against each other's clumsily while they fuck you.

you feel overwhelmed, overstimulated on both ends. the plump peach of your ass jiggles against fushiguro's tapered hips as he humps his cock into your pussy from behind, your breasts bouncing lewdly underneath your arched body as you suck yuuji's cock up front.

“'gumi, yuu- please! c-can't take it anymore!” you feel like crying, but the sound chokes off into a needy gasp as megumi's long cock drags through your walls at the right angle, his cockhead fucking against that gummy patch deep inside of you. you need them to cum— to give you a break. you never expected your sweet friends to fuck you like this.

megumi huffs, sweat beading down his neck as his fingers pet and rub quick against your swollen, sore clit. almost sobbing when your soft walls clamp down on him so tight that he fights to pull out.

“i'm gonna cum soon, but f-fuck- stop fucking clenching around me like that, stop-” megumi's raspy whine is guttural, yanking his cock out suddenly to stave off the burning orgasm at the base, watching the way your cunt pulses around emptiness, stretched and pretty, before he feeds it back in.

“fushiguro's cock feeling good down there, babe? hitting all the right spots?” your strawberry-haired friend groans out, neck blotchy with blush and shuddering as you flick your tongue over the seam of his balls. his heavy cock bumps against your cheek, smearing precum all over your foundation before you slack your jaw and suck him back into your mouth. you grasp his hipbones desperately to fuck his cock deeper down your throat. yuuji is painfully thick, stretching a dirty twinge in your jaw while megumi is long, spearing your puffy walls until your cunt aches with pleasure, nerves flipped inside out with each rolling thrust of their cocks.

neither of them expect you to answer the question the way that you do— reaching between your wet thighs, fingers bumping megumi's cock where it squelches in and out of your hole, you scoop sticky cream onto two fingers and show the drizzle proudly to the two boys drilling you. their groans reverberate on each end of you as they fuck you harder.

if you didn't feel overwhelmed with the white hot licks of sensation scorching a trail through your body, you would be embarrassed letting your two best friends see you like this— creaming and drooling all over them.

“i-itadori, don't do that-” megumi suddenly hisses, hips stuttering as his cock thickens out. his fingernails cut bruises into the soft flesh of your ass as he watches yuuji bring your hand to his lips, wrapping them around your fingers to shamelessly suck the combined mixture of you and megumi's cum from the digits.

“fuuuuck, f-fuck! why d'you two taste so-” yuuji cries in a mumble around your fingers, tongue lapping against your fingertips for more. it's not your pretty little mouth caving his stomach inward with the way you suck his cock, but the bittersweet taste of his two best friends' cum bursting over his tastebuds that sends yuuji over the edge first— ropes of warm cum shooting into your mouth without warning, kicking a pained grunt out of the male's chest. you choke, drawing back to suckle the tip greedily as he feeds you his cum. “fuck, babe-”

“itadori, move.”

yuuji is barely on the comedown before megumi's fisting a hand into your hair and tearing your mouth away from his friend's flagging cock, chasing the burning deep in his own gut as he suddenly flips you onto your back. he presses your legs to your torso, feet brushing his shoulders until you're folded in half beneath him and your creamy cunt is open wide for him, a pitiful wheeze squeaking out of your mouth—

“m-megumi-”

the male wraps his fingers around the base, fumbling with it because it's drenched and slippery in your juices as he lines his cock back up with your pussy, fucking in so quick that you cough and scrabble to grab for yuuji, as if he can save you from the force of megumi's fucking. but your other friend is no help, stretching out on the bed next to you and shifting through the wetness between your folds to rub your clit.

“b-boys, i'm so close! please please please! wan'... wan' you both to make me cum!” you beg, thighs trembling violently against your chest and expression twisted in full bliss as yuuji pats wetly at your squishy clit while megumi fucks you out so good that tears spill hotly, blurring your vision as you cum, gushing so wet that you soak the bed. clawing at their arms and screaming their names so loud it makes megumi clamp a hand over your mouth. the latter is only two thrusts behind you, painting your insides with thick globs of seed that oozes out of you embarrassingly when he pulls out.

“i-i'll get a towel,” megumi breathes, sitting back on his haunches. his cheeks turn a rosy shade as he surveys the wreckage of his two best friends in the afterglow. it’s disgusting to megumi how the two of you are able to rest on top of soaked sheets, yuuji’s cock flagged and megumi’s cum funneling out of your used cunt. but neither of you are letting him run, your and yuuji’s fingers wrapping around each of his wrists and pulling him on the other side of you.

“or you could come cuddle me instead?”

yuuji did not need any convincing, but both boys can’t find it in themselves to move an inch when your breasts are the softest pillows their heads have ever touched.

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myouicieloz · 11 days

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Collide

Huh Yunjin x 6th member!reader

Synopsis: you can’t take your eyes off her, specially when she’s dancing. thankfully, yunjin makes sure to put up a show for you.

Warnings: suggestivee. safe for work ma babes ^^

Word count: 1.6k

Notes: I SHALL PERSEVERE. fuckass writers block 😤. i will noooooot proofread this ^^

“Oh my God. Are you ok?” Yunjin asks, turning her attention away from her choreography as soon as she catches you desperately choking on water.

You throw your phone on the other side of the couch— as well as the bottle you were holding, in hopes of controlling the coughing fit that has you shaking rather violently. Still trying to gasp for air, you manage to nod, thumbs up to let Yunjin know you’ll most likely live.

“Just fine.” Your voice comes in between breaths, still accompanied by weakened coughs. “I drank too much at once.”

She giggles, walking towards the couch so you can sit side by side. You make sure to grab your phone back so your bandmate doesn’t reckon the cause of your coughing fit: scrolling through TikTok, you found a fan cam of the red-haired girl performing at their showcase just days ago.

Her bare waist, tight cropped and low-waisted jeans were enough for you to breathe in deeply, looking anywhere in the empty room but at her; carefully to not be reminded of the sin that was your bandmate’s body. Not only that, but the way she moved, too— sharp and flawless, skilled as she played with her hair and bit her lip while looking at the damn camera. Yunjin is well aware of how hot she is, and she sure as hell makes good use of that when performing.

It’s torture.

“Are you sure?” She frowns, and it’d be adorable if your mind wasn’t clouded by how she’d react if you just pushed her down the small sofa and ruined her relentlessly until someone had to barge in, worried about the screams coming from the room— only to find her whimpering under your touch, begging for more. “Your face is all flushed, and your skin feels hot. Y/n, are you sick?”

You shake your head, doing your best to duck from your bandmate’s attentive touches. It’s comforting to have her hand cupping your cheek, but her touches are electrifying. A single brush of her fingers is and your heart skips a beat, along with a familiar ache that starts growing in your core.

“It’s nothing, unnie. Don’t worry.” Her smile is so pretty. She loves to be loved by you. “You might want to take a small break, though. Come on, you’ve been here for hours already! Don’t push yourself too hard.” You offer, even though it’s obvious she’s going to decline. Yunjin’s too much of a perfectionist, so much so that it’s incredibly common to find her in that same practice room during late hours of the night, rehearsing the group’s choreography so she’ll be nothing but perfect once they go on stage.

The hate train Lesserafim’s been receiving has been getting to her, you know it as much. It’s easy to see in her chapped-off nails, disheveled hair, and how she never stays still, due to the amount of coffee she consumes on a single day. She’s too hard on herself, and you wish she’d open up more. How much better would it be if she just didn’t bottle it up so much, and relied on you instead? You’re bandmates, after all.

Touchy as she’s always been, Yunjin grabs your hand and leads you to the middle of the dance room, in front of the mirror. You’re left standing awkwardly, with a confused face until she rushes back with a chair. “Actually, I needed your help with something.” She gestures for you to sit, which you do. “It’s my turn to record something for TikTok, and manager-im asked it to be a dancing piece. Can you tell me if it’s good?”

You gulp when she launches her jacket lazily onto the ground, setting up her song of choice on her phone. The beat starts slow as the singer’s sweet voice echoes through the room, and Yunjin walks towards you in unhurried, precise steps. There’s not enough air, with all your mind clogged by her, and you can feel the slick dripping from your cunt. Once she finally reaches you… it’s insane. Her fingers brush your collarbone, the shadow of a proper touch has you shivering as she places both of her hands on your elbows and pushes herself down, her hips swirling just as the melody drags on— you can’t do anything but hold her by the hips, adding pressure to her rocking back and forth in your lap.

Her covered cunt brushes against yours and it’s the best feeling you’ve ever experienced; it feels heavenly, to have the friction just right where you need it. Yunjin’s arms go up in an arched movement, leaving her pretty neck all exposed. It’d be so easy to just push her in and suck on her porcelain skin until no makeup could hide such hickeys. Along with the song, she breathes in, which rides her crop top enough that you can see her lack of a bra.

It’s borderline painful: the way her actions lit your body on fire, the desperate need for more, the way she does a hair flip, still so attentive to the music you don’t even hear anymore. The only bang in your head comes from the pleasure building up down in your lower abdomen, waiting. Anticipating.

Yunjin grabs you by the neck just as the chorus hits, brushing her mouth against yours. She makes her way down to your neck, teasing her teeth against your clavicle whilst her other hand toys with the hem of your sweatpants, tapping in the right rhythm. “Do you want it?”

“More than anything.” Your response comes immediately. You’re soaked, and there’s nothing more in the world you want more than for her to touch you. “Please, Jen… Want your fingers inside.”

Yunjin is always eager to please, and you’re so glad for that. Her hand makes her way past your panties, and she smirks once she’s met with the mess you’ve made. “Does my dancing turn you on that much?” Her sultry tone does nothing but entice your moans, “Oh, Y/n… that’s pathetic.”

In any other situation, you’d give her mockery an answer just as filthy. But as her fingers brush your slit, gathering slick as Yunjin uses your juices to press her thumb on your clit, you can only muster a loud whine. Tangling your arms under her neck, you lift your hips a bit further, in hopes of having more.

More. It’s all you want. You need more.

“Jen, f-fuck. Please, I need—“ Two of her fingers enter your cunt unannounced, making you grasp. Yunjin’s movements are just as precise as her choreography, thrusting in and helping with the ache in your pussy right where you need it.

You’re not proud of how lewd you sound, all at your bandmate’s mercy as she fastens her pace on your dripping sex. She’s still in your lap, and the combined pressure feels just perfect.

Yunjin’s mouth leaves a trail of kisses in the valley of your boobs, her wet, cherry lips enticing the fire in your body. “I know what you need, baby. Just let go for me, you can do it.”

One command of hers and the tingling sensation that has been building up in your body explodes, allowing you to feel the wave of pleasure you’ve been so eagerly anticipating from the moment you entered the room. You cum with a high cry, with Yunjin’s fingers going even faster as you ride out from your orgasm. It’s not enough, though — you still need more. You think she’s going to give it to you, but your friend’s fingers retreat completely.

Yunjin’s left you a breathless mess, hot and bothered and just so desperate to have her in any way as you stare at her, hopeless and confused.

“Why’d you stop?” You whine, puting.

Yunjin laughs at the sight of your puppy eyes, so big and watery from frustration.

“Because that was it.” Her answer is resolute as if she didn’t make you cum seconds prior. With a fake frown, she adds, “Should I post it? Is it good enough?”

Taking a deep breath, you bite your lip as your hands find their way to her waist, bringing her to your lap once again. Even the smallest amount of friction _hurts_, from how horny you are, and you wince.

Noticing your struggles, Yunjin giggles as she leaves small, wet kisses on your jaw. You decide to play coy, too, “Not at all. In fact, I think you need a lot more practice. Go again, from the beginning… please?”

Yunjin laughs so hard she drops her head back, pinching your nose. “Sure, baby. I think so too.”

You kiss her again, exploring your way into her pretty mouth as your hands lift her shirt, groping her tits. Yunjin makes an effort to be perfect, and you’re so glad for her hard work.

“Oh, and Y/n?” She calls you, her tone all innocent. Yunjin’s lips are addicting, and she’s such a good kisser… it’s nearly impossible to focus on anything else. You hum in acknowledgment, and that seems to be enough for her, “You should lower your phone’s brightness before watching my thirsty edits, next time.”

You’d for sure choke again, if it weren’t for her devious laugh, silencing your shock with her sultry movements on your lap.

#kpop x reader #kpop smut #kpop x y/n #sol writes #huh yunjin x you #huh yunjin x reader #huh yunjin smut #huh yunjin imagines #huh yunjin x y/n #lesserafim imagines #lesserafim x reader #lesserafim smut #Spotify

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lxstfathier · 11 months

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Animals

Phillip Graves x Reader

Summary: you knew your commander was interested in you, but you don’t like him in the slightest, and he’s not used to being rejected. You will be his, one way or another.

Warnings: non-con, unprotected sex, p in v, porn without plot, slapping, choking, manhandling, implied kidnapping.

A/N: i wanted to write non-con for sooo long and now i finally got the courage to do it. But, if i’m being honest, i think it fits more as dub-con. However, this fic is inspired on the song Animals by Maroon 5, give it a listen if you can. That’s all i had to say lol, sorry for any errors english is not my first language, and thanks for all the support, hope you enjoy this as well 💗

Read at your own risk

“Did you really think you could run away from me?”

Graves’ voice is dark, low, and filled with lust, much more frightening than anything you ever heard before. His whole weight is pressing against your back, pinning you to the ground, and one of his hands grabs a fistful of you hair, forcing your face to the dirt.

“Let me go, please!” You beg, crying and shaking in pure fear, now regretting all those times where you rejected his romantic interests in you.

“Are you scared now?” He coos, mocking your desperate cries. “Too bad darlin’, cause i won’t let you go until i get what i want.”

And you know exactly what he wants. He’s gonna get between your legs and do all those gross things that he has fantasized about for months. And there’s nothing you can do to stop him right now, he’s bigger and stronger than you, he’s gonna take whatever he wants, whether you like it or not.

Without wasting no more time, Graves grabs both of your wrists, tying them together with a zip tie behind your back, and then proceeds to cut your pants and underwear with his knive, leaving your ass exposed in the cold air, all while you cry and whine at him to stop.

“Go ahead and scream all you want baby, no one’s gonna hear ya’ “ he says, leaving his knife aside and undoing his pants. Hearing your pretty cries has made him hard as a rock, and he can’t wait to claim you.

But, as desperate as you are, you know he’s right. You’re both too far away from the military base, in the middle of nowhere, surrounded only by trees and bushes. No one will hear you even if you scream at the top of your lungs. So you decide to save your voice, accepting the fate that your commander is creating for you.

Just let him satiate his needs and it all will be over soon.

Graves positions himself between your legs and grabs you by the hips, lifting you up a little bit. The pink tip of his cock already prodding at your bare pussy. And, without a warning, he slides into you with one powerful thrust, grunting in pleasure as you sob in pain.

He sets a brutal pace, abusing your tight little cunt with his big cock, slamming against your cervix over and over, his strong hold on your hips bruising your delicate skin.

“I knew you’d feel so fucking good. Fuck- you were made for me baby, even if you think you’re not.” He growls into your ear, resting his chest on your back. And a sweet moan scapes your lips. “What’s that? huh? are you enjoying my cock?.”

You know you’re wrong, it’s sick to moan in pleasure when he’s taking advantage of you like a fucking monster, but the way he stretches you open and hits all your sweet spots is way too good to ignore. The pain has faded and now your cunt is begging for more, coating his length with your slick, and arching your back to give him a better access.

Graves lets out a dark chuckle, knowing that he somehow managed to break you and make you forget that it’s all against your will, just lifting his ego impossibly high, feeling like the proudest bastard around.

What would your colleagues say if they saw you both fucking like animals in heat?.

You moan again, clenching around him, getting that familiar sensation building up in the pit of your stomach, closer to your release with each one of his violent thrusts. But he suddenly stops before you can reach it, pulling out just to quickly manhandle you into a new position.

Now with your back on the damp forest dirt and your legs spread open, you can clearly see him leaning on top of you as he slides inside your wet heat again. God, he’s handsome, but so damn evil.

“You like getting used like a whore, don’t ya’?” He asks, staying still, looking down at you with his pretty blue eyes. But, when you don’t answer, one hard slap against your cheek makes your face go red. “I asked you a question.”

“Y-yes, i like it sir” you say, kinda enjoying the burning sensation on your skin.

“Such a nasty little girl” his voice sends shivers down your spine, and his right hand finds a place in your throat, squeezing tight as he starts thrusting again, this time harder than before.

You squirm under him, feeling his thick cock pounding your tiny hole in the most delicious way, gasping for air while your orgasm comes closer again. But he’s choking you hard enough to cut all your airflow and fear washes over you once more. He could kill you right there if he wanted, there’s nothing to stop him, not even your own hands to push him away.

It’s a weird feeling. You’re scared to death, you don’t know if your commander will be kind enough to let you live, and still you can’t help but feel extremely aroused, bucking your hips to meet his thrusts, making your clit brush against his pubic bone.

Graves grunts in your ear and you finally come undone, writhing and spasming in pure bliss, soaking his cock in your sweet juices. And he follows right after you, swearing under his breath, filling your womb with white spurts of cum, loosening his grip on your throat just as you’re about to pass out.

You both stay still for a few seconds, panting and riding out your orgasms.

“I hate you” you say once you can speak again, looking up at the bright blue sky above, angry at him for what he just did and way too disgusted with yourself for enjoying such thing.

“Don’t lie princess” he speaks, a sick smirk appearing on his face. “If you hated me, you wouldn’t be creaming all over my fucking cock.”

Tears stream down your face and Graves pulls out of your poor pussy, staying on his knees while he admires the mess he made. His hot cum slowly dripping out of your abused hole, your bruised hips, the red skin of your neck and your sad eyes filled with tears. Way more beautiful than anything he had ever laid his eyes on.

You sit up, trying to get away from him, silently begging him to untie your hands and let you go, not even caring if your legs are still weak, you’re ready to run away as soon as he cuts the zip tie on your wrists.

But what a naive and innocent creature. Did you really thought he would fulfill his promise of letting you go? Did you really thought that you could give him a taste and then expect him to cut you loose? Oh, darling, what a shame.

“You know what, baby?… i’m gonna keep you all to myself.” Phillip says, caressing your cheek, the rough material of his black gloves absorbing your tears. “Just as a pretty toy for me to fuck whenever i want.”

Say bye to the army and your old life, you’re his now.

#phillip graves x reader #phillip graves smut #cod smut

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thedeathlysallows · 1 month

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Is It Over Now? (11)

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Aemma Velaryon

Summary: And maybe it was ego's swinging

Warnings: canon typical Targaryen incest. Developing Stockholm Syndrome, Aemma is becoming an unreliable narrator. Simp!Aemond appears again (not that he really ever leaves lol). Smut, fingering, religion kink, not sub!Aemond but he does beg a bit, oral (f!receiving)

(We've reached the Alys Rivers arc and it'll probably take a few chapters to settle. Also, we've shifted to this song for the second half of the story.)

Tag list: @callsignwidow

"You know how much I love you," Aemond whispers in your ear as the candles flicker out, plunging your bedchamber into darkness. His arms wrap around your waist and hold you in a vice grip against the hard edges of his body. "Enough with the punishment."

You can't help but scoff. "Punishment? Tell me, my dear husband, how are you the one being punished when I'm the one expected to sit back and watch my family be hunted into extinction?"

"I've apologized countless times for Lucerys."

"Yes, of course you have. All of you have, save for Aegon and that scheming snake of a man you call grandfather. All everyone does is apologize to me."

"What more do you need? What will end this?"

"Give me your other eye."

"What?"

Aemond looks at you, disbelief coloring his sharp features. You stare back, unblinking. Moments pass by in silence as the two of you take each other in. You aren't sure what exactly triggers it, but your lower lip quivers and tears spring to your eyes.

"I don't mean it. Not really. I don't know why I said it..." You choke out a sob and bury your face in his chest. Aemond's hand immediately goes to your hair as he comforts you.

He knew you didn't mean- you would never be so vicious- but the comment was still jarring nonetheless. Aemond knew you would never mean such a thing, but there's still a slight tremor in his hand as he pets you gently. He's worked so hard to get to this point, to have you in his arms, and he feels like he can see the end of it all before it's barely even begun.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I don't know what's wrong with me." The tears won't stop no matter how hard you try.

A small flicker of hope flickers in Aemond's chest. "Could you be pregnant?"

"It hasn't been long enough."

"It's been two months at this point. We've both been performing our duties-"

"How clinical." You look up at him wryly, feeling uncertain of his reaction to your outburst. You really hadn't meant to say that to him. You were just so angry and then so desperately sad when you realized how hurtful you'd been.

Aemond smiles down at you indulgently, tilting your chin to press your lips to his. "Shall I be more romantic then?"

Your stomach churns violently in direct competition with the heat growing between your thighs. You love Aemond- at least you think you do- but you also love your mother and brothers. There's a part of you still lost to mourning. You've heard nothing from anyone, locked away inside your ivory tower in the Keep, only allowed news from Aemond's mouth directly. (Or Aegon's when he sends Aemond off some place or another, but even that's becoming less frequent as Aegon becomes more and more obsessed with being King.)

"You? Romantic? Maybe if the Conqueror himself returned." The joke comes easily. Joking with Aemond has always been easy. You can do that. You can tell jokes and make him smile because you like his smile, and because it's safer to distract him than fuck him.

You still keep your master plan in the back of your mind: let all of them think they've tamed you until you can find a way back to your mother's side. When you came up with your plan you didn't anticipate it would become harder and harder to pretend with each passing day. You didn't anticipate actually loving Aemond, nor did you anticipate Aemond's love for you being real.

It's terrifying to feel your grip slowly loosening.

Aemond's voice calls you back from your thoughts while he gently rolls you under him. "I can be romantic if that's what you need. I'll be anything you need. Just let me in."

"Aemond-"

"Please, don't fight me anymore. Stop pushing me away. I adore you, why can't you see that?" His fingers dig in to the fabric of your nightgown, pulling and tugging until it's over your head, discarded on the floor by the unlit fire place. Your skin feels like it's on fire as his gaze travels over your body, hands following each curve and dip.

"So pretty," he whispers adoringly.

"Don't. Please."

Aemond's eye flickers up to yours. He still keeps the patch on, neither one of you fully ready to embrace the consequences of the past when the present is so precarious. You swallow thickly, unable to look away as his hand creeps up to your breast. His fingers toy with the soft buds there, teasing your nipples until you're almost sore. A soft whine escapes you and you see Aemond's face darken.

"Don't what?" He finally says. "Don't worship you as the goddess you are?"

Aemond bends his head to kiss just under your breasts, reveling in the feel of your soft stomach as he drags his lips lower. If you were burning before, you're positively on fire now, desperate for whatever Aemond will do next. He reaches your thighs with a moan, nipping at the delicate skin there.

"Let me die on your altar," he says. "I'll do it happily, over and over."

Your fingertips thread through his silky hair and you pull his face to your cunt. Aemond breathes out a small laugh that sends a puff of warm air over your sensitive pussy. He wastes no time, diving between your folds like a starving man. His tongue is absolutely sinful as he licks you, working a magic you never would've expected from him.

"Aemond, yes, right there." You moan out the words, knowing how much he loves the praise. And you're more than happy to give it as his long fingers enter you, pumping in time with each lick he gives your clit.

"Tell me you love me," Aemond demands while he keeps thrusting and curling his fingers inside your cunt. "Tell me you're mine."

You nod, his words not fully registering, but you repeat them anyway. "I'm y-yours... l-love you... so much."

"Mmm, such a good girl. You've always been so, so good, haven't you?" Aemond's fingers brush against that most sensitive spot inside you and you arch your back off the bed, screaming his name like a litany of prayers over and over.

"Look at you. Haven't even put my cock in you and your already coming." He pulls you into a lazy kiss, all tongue and teeth and you don't mind at all. "I've always believed you're the Maiden come to save me."

Aemond buries his face in your neck, nipping and biting, leaving marks you know the whole court will see. "Will you save me? Absolve my sins?"

You sigh, fingernails digging into his back as you hook your legs over his waist. "Aemond...please, please, please."

"Forgive me, Maiden." Aemond pants the words into your ear, his hips jerking when your warm cunt drags across his cock. "Forgive me so I can worship you properly, please."

You nod, desperate to feel him inside you. "I forgive you."

With a heady sigh he sinks into you, his cock stretching you out in the most exquisite way. You see stars behind your eye lids as he begins fucking you, pounding his cock deep inside your cunt. He's ruthless and desperate in his movements as he watches you come undone beneath him, the very image of Heaven.

"I love you," Aemond moans. "Ah, fuck, I love you..."

You whine desperately, completely at his mercy as he cums inside you and fills your cunt. You have the brief thought that maybe this time you are pregnant, but Aemond is there before you can pursue the thought further. He brushes the hair from your face and kisses your nose before laying down beside you and pulling you close.

"Aegon is sending me to Harrenhal in the morning. I asked to take you with me, but the Council convinced him it would be a mistake. I promise I'll return as soon as I'm able."

"Harrenhal..." You can see Harwin Strong's face in your mind's eye, so similar to that of your brothers'...

Aemond strokes your face worriedly. "Please don't lock yourself in this room while I'm gone."

But you can't promise anything.

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you

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rafeysbafey · 1 year

Note

Angst with rafe where he’s asking reader out but she thinks it’s a bet/ he’s joking bc need him to reassure reader:,((

one chance r.c.

summary. rafe cameron suggests a date after you cross his path.

warnings. fem!pogue!reader, mean!rafe, talks of money problems and abuse if you squint, language

wordcount. 682

song suggestion. listen to “meet me in the pale moon” by lana del rey

mood board

the first interaction you had with rafe was at heywards, sent by your dad to pick up this week’s groceries.

you lived with just your dad, tight on money. heyward knew this though and discounted the groceries, which you were extremely grateful for.

plus you were pope’s friend, and a pogue.

so why was rafe cameron talking to you?

“y/n, right?” he spoke from next to you, causing your body to jump in surprise.

you were leaning against the counter, picking at your nails and distracted by your thoughts to notice him approach you.

you turned to look at him, becoming very aware of the height distance.

you turned to peer up at him, eyebrows cocked before you decided it probably wasn’t the best idea to ignore rafe cameron.

“u-uh,” clearing your throat, “yeah. rafe, right?”

you practically mirrored his words, a small smirk on his face as he nodded.

“odd question, but,” he trailed off before looking back at you, staring down—cold eyes pouring into yours and sending a chill down your back.

“do you have a boyfriend?”

you practically choked on the spit in your mouth, eyebrows furrowed and hand coming up to hide a cough.

“n-no,” you mumbled, hoping he wouldn’t hear you.

his own eyebrows perked up as his tongue poked the side of his mouth, quite noticeably too.

“not surprised.”

it sounded rushed, almost forced.

your eyes dropped to his shoes, noticing the expensive leather that was so delicately sewn on.

looking back up, you noticed him staring straight at you, lips drawn into a line as he waited for you to respond.

what was your response? you couldn’t think of one.

why was he so mean?

he’s rafe cameron, kook king, of course he’s mean.

you’ve heard multiple stories about him and how vial he was to others, especially pogues.

you were about to spit something out, forcing yourself to hold your tongue in order to not rile him up.

“y/n!” heyward’s voice carried from the back, the man soon approaching with two brown paper bags in his arms.

“got your order right here.”

he noticed rafe right away, a sour look coming to heyward’s voice.

he knew about rafe, and the encounters pope has had with him.

“thank you!” you sputtered out, relief evident in your voice as you dug in your pockets for the payment.

you handed him a 20 dollar bill, giving him a smile before taking the bags.

you looked back at rafe, who was chewing on his lip as his eyes darted from you to heyward.

you gave him a small, obviously fake smile, before turning around and walking away.

“i’ll walk you out,” he spoke, causing your eyebrows to knit together and your grip tightening against the bag.

“if you know what’s good for you rafe you’ll keep your ass right here until she’s gone,” heyward scolded, a small smile etching onto your face as you exited the store.

that wasn’t the last time you’d have an interaction with rafe, although you practically prayed to never speak to him again.

the second time you ran into rafe was when you literally ran into him.

it was at the outdoor movie event they had before school started, you deciding to join kie, jj, and pope.

you wanted something to take your mind off of everything that was going on in your life.

your father had started drinking again, trying to forget about your mom along with the debt he was in.

alcohol didn’t work well with your dad, if anything it made him angry. and aggressive. violent.

you sat in the uncomfortable lawn chair with your hands fidgeting in your lap. everyone and their mothers seemed to be here, and so far rafe wasn’t.

kie announced she was going to grab some drinks before the movie started, but you told her you would.

she thanked you and slipped a 10 dollar bill, giving a small smile before scolding pope and jj for fooling around.

you decided a little walk before the movie and some snacks would better help ease your mind.

no one was in line, thankfully, so you gave the worker the money and picked out four pepsis and two bags of popcorn, the prices being extremely cheap.

you tried stacking everything carefully enough so it wouldn’t come crashing down.

once you felt stable, you spun on your heel but ran straight into someone’s chest, popcorn spilling all over both you and the person.

you were sputtering out apologizes before you could see the poor person you just collided with.

“I’m s-so so sorry, i wasn’t looking and i-”

your eyes traveled up to the one person you were avoiding.

rafe motherfucking cameron.

“wasn’t expecting to run into you, princess,” he teased, eyes darting from your shaken figure to his own shirt.

it was covered in popcorn grease, destroying his likely very expensive shirt that was probably more than your piece of junk car.

“what’s your plan on fixing my shirt?” he hummed, eyebrow cocked as he let a mocking frown etch onto his lips.

“i-i don’t kno-”

“want to look at the bill for it? or should i send it to your mailbox?”

your eyes widened at the thought of how much of a dent that would put in your already fragile state relating to money.

“i-i don’t have the money for it, can’t i do something else o-or or-”

“i can think of something,” he hummed, pretending to think for a second before letting his eyes spill into yours, a chill running down your spine.

“go on a date with me.”

your eyes practically feel out of the sockets, mouth parting slightly as your searched his eyes for any hint of sarcasm.

you were afraid to speak. afraid to ask why.

“ill find the money,” you mumbled before turning around, pepsis still in your hands, well…two of them had survived the collision.

you practically froze when you felt the boy grab your wrist, turning you around with a confused look on his face.

“you think this is a joke?”

it came out more aggressive than he intended it to.

“im just asking for one, measly date” he continued, “one and then you’re forgiven.”

“why would I do that?” a wave of confidence ran through your body, quickly being swept away when rafe took a step towards you.

you gulped out of instinct, eyes quickly dropping to your shoes as he let out a chuckle.

“because i want to take you out, and youre not so bad looking,” he shrugged, causing you to roll your eyes at the ground before looking up.

“wow thanks.”

you were about to walk away, again, but he quickly stopped you, frown evident on your face.

“stop doing that!”

“stop doing what?” he asked, acting completely clueless on why you, a pogue, wouldn’t want to go on a date with rafe cameron.

his reputation holding the title of the man you didn’t want to cross.

especially if you’re a pogue.

“you-” words trailing off, hesitant to finish the sentence, “want to go on a date, with me?”

“have I not made myself clear?” he sarcastically said, causing your stomach to drop.

there was no getting out of this. two results can come from this.

he makes your life a living hell, or, you owe the money.

both possibly.

“okay,” you mumbled, hoping he didn’t hear as you chewed on the inside of your mouth.

his ears perked up as a smirk covered his features, tongue sweeping over his lips before he spoke up.

“let me get your number, we’ll go from there.”

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe imagine #rafe cameron x pogue!reader #rafe fanfiction #rafe angst #rafe fic #rafe cameron x y/n

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back2bluesidex · 8 months

Note

The great war will make a good ff too (maybe Yoongi?)

Great War - MYG

Pairing: idol!Yoongi X Reader

Theme: Angst, heartbreak, break up au, lovers to exes au

Song: Great War

Word count: 862

Warnings: Best friends to lovers to exes and probably strangers. I think that's enough of a warning.

Minors and Karens Are Not Allowed in this Blog!!

A/N: This. This came from within. All I can say is that.. I have been in the place of Yoongi (in this drabble), so this little piece became very personal to me. Thanks for the request and I hope you like it.

“Let’s break up.” your words buzz loudly in the otherwise silent room. The darkness seems to intensify as soon as the sentence leaves your mouth. Your voice is barely audible but you know he heard it loud and clear.

You hear him sighing. You know he has seen it coming, after all, he is your best friend. He knows you the best. He knows when, what goes inside your head. So, he knew your relationship was approaching the end.

“Can I ask you why?” Yoongi asks quietly. You can hear something akin to disappointment lingering in his voice.

You attempt to answer through your already choked voice, “You know why-”

“I am not asking you why we are breaking up. I am asking you why did you accept me in the first place if you were going to end this?” Yoongi cuts you off. His voice raises gradually and becomes a scream by the time the sentence ends.

He is sitting straight now, facing you, staring at you with eyes full of tears and anguish.

“Because I love you. And I thought we could make it work.” your tongue dirts out and moist your lips. You feel your entire world spiraling down and eventually breaking in front of your eyes. It’s so bad that you can’t do anything about it. But it is even worse that you are the one to wreck it yourself.

“And we did make it work, Y/N. We went through all of these hurdles together. We have been through this great war together. Then why now? What’s wrong?” Yoongi grabs your arms and hoists you up from the couch. You stare at him.

He looks beautiful. He emits a light and brightens up everything around him, except for you. Because you, yourself, is darkness.

“I can’t do this anymore, Yoongi.” You sob, “I can’t take this. I can’t pretend that I am all fine when you leave me here alone for months after months. I can’t pretend I am all fine when I see you being shipped with a new actress or idol everyday on twitter. I can’t pretend to sleep night after night when you prioritize your work over the miniscule time we could spend just by sleeping side by side. I just- can’t. I need much more than you can offer. I am selfish.”

“You knew things would be like this, didn’t you? I told you dating me would not be easy. We- we reached for each other's hand through everything, Y/N. don’t turn your back on me now.” he shakes you violently.

“Wrong. You are wrong, Yoongi. You are the one to reach for my hands throughout the great war. But I- you were hardly ever there for me. I closed the curtains and drank poison all alone while you sang and danced on the stage.” You break free from Yoongi’s hold.

“You could have reached out to me. You know I would be there whenever possible.” Tears stream down Yoongi’s face. It hurts you to see him like this but you have no choice left, not when your own heart is tearing apart.

“I thought so. But the sweet dream was over and I realized reaching out to my idol boyfriend would not be that easy. Every time I had called you, it either went on voice mail or your managers picked up asking me to call you later. Was it supposed to be like that? Tell me, was it?” You sniff.

“I- I am sorry, Y/N. I promise I will be better. Please give me another chance. Give us another chance.” Yoongi’s voice is now drenched in a plea.

“I am sorry, too, Yoongi. I am sorry that I could not fight for us anymore. I am tired and I need to rest now. But I-” You gulp “I can’t afford to lose you. Can we go back to what we were? Can we go back to being best friends?”

You look up at him expectantly but you see his eyes flaring. There is anger, disappointment, betrayal, pain and a little bit of haterade for you.

“No we can’t. If you walk out of this door now, you will lose me forever. Or- or you can stay and we will make this work together… again.”

You want to laugh at his face. There is no ‘together’ in this one-sided relationship and he needs to understand that sooner or later.

“No, Yoongi. I fear I need to give up now.” You stand up taking your purse with you. Trudging towards the studio door, you hold the knob, ready to walk out, ready to run away for once and forever.

“We may not survive this war but… I will always be yours in one shape or another. I will always be yours, Yoongi.” and with that Yoongi’s studio door shuts tight, trapping him inside an unforgiving loop of pain and heartbreak.

He knew he was slowly losing you, but he stayed reluctant thinking you might need some time to jump back into his embrace.

He was wrong and now he is too late to hold your hands and survive through this great war.

#bts angst #yoongi angst #suga angst #bts x reader #yoongi x reader #suga x reader #bts scenario #bts fanfiction #yoongi fanfic #suga fanfic #bts drabble #bts

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egcdeath · 10 months

Note

Hi! If you are not comfortable with this request then I totally understand but what about a Joel x reader where he has a nightmare that he can’t snap out of and he accidentally hurts the reader (like he grabs onto her and won’t let go) and the reader is okay but Joel freaks out and tries to break things off and its hurt with a lot of fluff. Thanks!

pairing: joel miller x reader

summary: joel gives you both a scare when he wakes up hurting you in his sleep.

word count: 1.3k

warnings: full disclaimer: joel chokes the reader in his sleep. brief violence (unintentional), angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, established relationship

author’s note: this is a little darker than what i usually write, and it’s a little different from your request. i still hope that you enjoy <3 i’m also still taking drabble requests for any pedro pascal character!!

Twenty years ago you stopped dreaming.

Then, you finally found a safe haven in Jackson, Wyoming. Slowly but surely, you regained the ability to hold onto your dreams, building beautiful worlds in your mind and being able to recall them hours after you dreamt them.

You didn’t always have the best dreams, but you were having one now; a pleasant dream taking place in the stream that you and Joel often stopped to take baths in on your smuggling runs. You lounged out on a familiar rock, basking in the sun while Joel cleaned himself diligently just a few feet away. You listened to the soft rustling of the leaves from the trees above you, then the song of chirping birds. You were at peace in a way you hadn’t known was possible since the world ended—but that peace didn’t last long.

You couldn’t be sure how, but you’d fallen off of your rock and into the water, where the current had suddenly picked up. You began to bob above and below the water rapidly, choking as you fought to stay above it. But it was too late. Your nose and lungs were filled with water, the liquid burning you the more that you coughed. Your arms flailed as you desperately tried to swim, but it was clearly no use.

You woke up with a gasp, then shot up as you coughed violently—the same way you’d been coughing in your dream. You instinctually brought your hands up to your throat as you coughed, the scratching pain almost unbearable. Your heart and mind were racing, so much so that you’d completely missed the horrified look on the face of the man in bed beside you, or the way that he seemed to be paralyzed in his position.

“Fuck, are you alright?” he finally said after your coughing had subsided.

“Yeah, it was just a bad dream,” you dismissed, finally looking back at Joel, who still seemed a bit off. “Could you grab me a glass of water?”

“Of course,” he said, his voice a little flatter than usual. He still got up, still made the floorboards creak as he walked down the stairs, and still came back with a distinctly guilty look on his face.

“Honey, are you okay?” you asked once he sat down, looking like he was in a state of pure shock.

Joel seemed to gather himself, he took a few deep breaths, attempted to adjust his slumped shoulders, but still looked down and away—notably not at you.

“I think we should break up,” he said quickly and quietly.

“What?” you gasped, in complete and utter disbelief of what he’d just said to you. “Because I disturbed your fucking beauty sleep by coughing? I mean, what the fuck, Joel. I’ve done way worse shit than cough around you!”

“No, because I was choking you. In my sleep. That’s why you woke up coughing. I’m so sorry,” his voice slightly broke as he admitted what had happened.

“…What?” you were in disbelief, but your hand raised to your neck to feel it once more. Without the abrupt shock of waking up from a nightmare, you were now able to feel the warmth that had obviously come from an injury from an outside source.

“I can’t… I don’t want to be a danger to you in your sleep. Maybe we should go to the infirmary too. But I can’t have you with me if I’m going to accidentally kill you in my sleep.”

You attempted to look into his eyes, but he looked distant and far away, clearly more shaken up by this whole ordeal than you were—which meant a lot, considering that you were already quite shaken up.

“I can probably wait until the morning. I feel… alright. What happened?”

“I was dreaming and you and I were on patrol, a clicker came out of nowhere and grabbed you and you’re just screaming and wailing and it’s the most horrific sound I’ve ever heard,” he stops himself to gulp, to calm down a bit, and you gently reach out to touch his arm. Joel rejects your sensitivity, clearly feeling like he doesn’t deserve any sort of empathy in the moment. “So I come up behind it and grab it, like I’ve done a million times before, and its face slowly starts to warp into your face, and then I just abruptly woke up, and saw me choking you. I don’t- I don’t actually know how long it was going on. So maybe we really do need to go to the infirmary.”

The plea in his face told you that it was likely better to go than to sit here and argue about going. At the very least, it would give Joel the peace of mind to know that you weren’t as injured as he thought you might be.

The two of you walked over to the infirmary in your pajamas, your house slippers becoming outdoor slippers as you drug them through the snowy ground. On your short walk over, Joel rejected every single advance you attempted; he wouldn’t hold your hand, he wouldn’t let you wrap yourself around his arm, and he wouldn’t even let you rest your hand on his back. For all you knew, he completely believed that it was over between the two of you.

After waking up the receptionist at the desk who was lightly snoozing, you were able to see the doctor who seemed just as tired. After a few rounds of testing, she decided that you were good to go—though you’d already suspected that was the case.

Once you arrived back at your home, Joel made a beeline to the couch, where it seemed he was dead set on staying for the rest of the night.

“I’ll talk to Tommy about which buildings are vacant, and be out of your hair as soon as possible,” he told you in a matter-of-fact tone.

“Don’t you want to talk things out first?” you pleaded.

“There’s nothing to talk about. You’re not safe around me,” he dismissed, trying to be as firm in his words as possible as you sat down next to him on the couch.

“I am safe around you, Joel. Do you know how many times you’ve saved me? Do I need to remind you of those smugglers who tried to keep me hostage?” you hoped that the mention of the memory would do some work in taking Joel down memory lane, to one of the many times in your lives where he’d come to your rescue.

“I mean, yes, you did choke me in our sleep. That’s terrifying, obviously, but I love you. I can just sleep in the guest bedroom from now on,” you insisted, setting a hand on his knee that he finally accepted without trying to flinch away. “We both have a lot to work through. I’m not just gonna abandon you,” you insisted.

“How am I ever gonna trust myself again?” Joel murmured, looking up to the ceiling to avoid eye contact with you.

“Joel, you were asleep,” you pushed, “and for all intents and purposes, you were trying to save me in your dream. And the doctor was pretty unfazed by my injury. I believe her exact words were, ‘It looks fine to me.’”

“Our doctor was half asleep,” Joel halfheartedly argued.

“Well, true… but I feel fine. And nothing has changed between us. Other than the fact that I think it’s probably time we both start seeing the therapist.”

Joel finally began to look like he believed what he was saying. Of course you didn’t want to be attacked in your sleep, but you knew that it was never his intention to hurt you. Obviously, it would take a bit of time and separation to make sure that he could get his sleeping habits in check, but you weren’t lying when you promised him all of those years ago that you would be with him every step of the way.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller imagine #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x y/n #pedro pascal x reader #the last of us fanfiction

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skzwife-02 · 9 months

Text

☁️Cuddles and Kisses☁️

[Lee Minho x Fem!Reader]

summary: reader is on her period, so Minho does the only sensible thing: give her kisses and cuddles (and orders her favorite food but that’s a surprise)

genre: fluff

warning: weird writing, idk i wrote this at 1am. tooth-aching sweet Minho, y/n speaking in another language(?), mentions of cursing god(s) lmao

note: okay so I know he doesn’t understand tagalog, but that diff breed filo skz stan in me kicks in and I have to make you speak tagalog😌💚 (it’s not really a warning but just an additional tag idk why it’s in warning lmao)

Masterlist

“Babe? Can you get me a soda from the fridge, please.” Minho’s shouts are muffled by the thick wooden door of his office but Y/n understood it nonetheless.

She takes small steps, her abdomen aching. She opens the refrigerator door, softly humming a song that pops in her mind. She vaguely remembers a gas station, two annoyed younger siblings in the car, and a steaming engine.

She chuckles, her warm hands touch the cold soda and she shivers. She takes a mental note not to leave her blanket anywhere on days when 40 millimeters of blood is gushing out of her vagina because of her uterus shedding some stupid lining that was prepared for a dumb fetus.

Y/n grumbles when she nears his door, wiping her numbing hand on her shirt then reaching for the door handle when it bursts open and she crashes with an excited Minho.

“Baby- oof!” He squeals, left hand finding her waist while the other grabs the falling soda can that’s about to crash to the floor.

She thanks the gods who gave Minho good reflexes, but curses the one who made him have a habit of not paying attention when opening doors.

“Oh dear, are you okay, hun?” He stabilizes her, his right hand tucking a stray hair that fell to her face. He cups her cheek and she melts to her boyfriend’s touch, leaning in.

He’s soft and passionate with the kiss, despite her neediness. Y/n lets out a whimper, the feeling of a sword stabbing and jabbing right on her abdomen and through her lower back engulfs her senses.

These cramps are messing her up, and yet again she takes a mental note not to miss her monthly chamomile tea before the ‘red’ curse enters (more like violently exits) her body.

“Hah, just peachy.” She huffs out before kissing him again, now biting gently at his lower lip.

“Nngh.” A soft noise slips out of his lips before he can stop it and Y/n stops kissing him, instead staring at him with disbelief etched on her face.

She stifles a laugh, preventing a gush that threatens to stain her pants. “Min?”

He smiles, laughing. This is her first time hearing him being vocal from a kiss, after all that’s always been her job. “Oh come on. You were biting me!” He defends and the look he has is enough to send her to the ground cackling.

“You’re too cute.” She manages to choke out as he pulls her up to carry her, settling her down on the couch. “Mmh, are you spending time with me instead of doing work because of my period situation?”

He nods, rushing to his office, she hears him shuffling around. Probably looking for his phone she thinks, turning her attention to the tv and realizing she doesn’t know where the remote is. “Min.” She calls for him, not wanting to move from her spot on the couch. “Lee Minho, where did you put the tv remote?” She finally shouts, head lifting to go look at what he’s doing in the other room.

He suddenly pops up behind the couch giving her a mini heart attack.

“Oh yeah.” He chuckles apologetically, “I left it in my room, here.” Minho holds her hand in his, giving her the remote.

Y/n smiles, patting the space next to her. Her boyfriend mirrors her, his lips tugging upwards. He lets his bunny slippers fall off his feet as he snuggles beside her, his back on the couch, his chest pressed against her own.

“Good?” He asks, running a hand through her ruffled hair.

“Mmh, as long as you’re here.”

10 minutes later she sees the doorknob of her front door turn, panic digs its claws on her throat and lungs, until she sees Hyunjin by the door. “Uh… Minho hyung, here are the things you asked for.”

[honestly switch to second person pov, im struggling af]

He sheepishly grins, demeanor shy from intruding your cuddle time. “I hope you feel better, Y/n noona.”

After Minho thanks him, Hyunjin bows a few more times before exiting your apartment and locking it with his, seemingly, own set of keys.

“Did you give Hyunjin your keys? Is that why you’re always locked out of your own home?” You tease and he playfully pouts.

“Oh, come on. You know you love helping a damsel in distress.” He jokes, cupping your face and leaving butterfly kisses all over.

You shy away, shifting your attention to the plastic of food Hyunjin brought. “Let’s eat,” you say, eager to taste Hyunjin’s cooking after not having his dishes for a long time.

Your boyfriend nods, standing up to get the plastic, two plates, two pairs of silverware and mugs. “Want the imported tea or the, uh,” he pauses, reading the small writing on the tea bag but not finding the name of the actual tea.

“Chamomile babe, thank you.” You answer, pulling the blanket by your feet over you. “Lamig naman, kakaiyak.” You sigh, complaining about the cold and half expecting him to turn the temperature a bit higher.

“What’s that, baby girl?” He hums from the kitchen, “You know I don’t understand the language, sorry.” He apologizes genuinely, feeling a bit guilty you’re learning korean but he isn’t making an effort to learn your language.

“It’s alright, Min. I’m sorry I didn’t notice, I said I’m cold.” You reply in a nonchalant tone, you don’t care at all, it’s not like he’ll be going to the country, and besides you only learned korean because you were going to the country.

When he finishes fixing you a cup of tea, he brings it to the table in the living room. Setting up everything else for your comfort, and not letting you do anything.

“Alright let’s watch that movie you keep talking about!” He starts excitedly, caressing your cheek before turning to the food and tv.

You relax the rest of the day, receiving absolute princess treatment from Minho. At the end of the day you’ve been pampered with kisses and lulled to sleep with cuddles.

Minho truly is a treasure.

Find all my works under #skzwife-02

#lee minho #leeknow #period #sweet minho #filipina reader #minho loving reader so much he abandons work for her #fluff #skz #fanfic #im on my period will someone please do this for me #straykids #stray kids in your backyard sacrificing a rabbit (leeknow) to make your period go away #cramps #comfort #soft lee minho #skz minho #skzwife-02

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conelluwrites · 8 months

Text

If Time Could Stand Still (Freeze This Moment)

Ryomen Sukuna x GN! Reader

Kinktober Masterlist

Kinktober Playlist

Song: Cruel Angel’s Thesis (Ama Lee Cover)

Continuation here

You had, quite frankly, no clue how you ended up on your knees in front of Sukuna. You suppose it doesn’t really matter now, you try to stop yourself from zoning out as he speaks

Warnings: vomit mentions, gagging, dub-con elements

You had, quite frankly, no clue how you ended up on your knees in front of Sukuna. You suppose it doesn’t really matter now, you try to stop yourself from zoning out as he speaks but looking at him has your mind going absolutely wild with everything you want and don’t want.

“You have a lot to apologize for.” He says, staring down at you. His hand is tauntingly gentle as it pats your head, ruffling your hair. “I’m letting you apologize on your knees, because that’s what you deserve. If you throw up and it gets on me, you’ll pay. Do you understand?” He nearly looks amused as your eyes trail over his incredible length, it’s not necessarily too long or too girthy, but it does look like something you would gag on. However, if you’re going to throw up on anyone’s cock, it might as while potentially be his. You’re practically drooling as your eyes go back up to meet his and you nod like a doll. His hand grips the back of your hair in a way that’s bordering on painful. “How cute.”

He doesn’t give you much time to acclimate to anything, your hands immediately flying up to push against his abdomen, his thighs, his pelvis, his anything as you gag pathetically. He chuckles and doesn’t allow you much room to move, if at all, but he does pause bobbing your head like you have no gag reflex. You can feel his cock dig into your throat, you’re even sure that your throat is bulging from it. “Swallow it all, now, don’t bother trying to come up for air. It’s no surprise you’re struggling so badly and you force yourself to stop struggling, as much as possible of course, and look up at him with tearfilled eyes and red cheeks. Once he seems satisfied with your lack of resistance, his pace is brutal. It’s as if he wants you to unleash the contents of your stomach all over him.

He croons various pet names and praises in a way that feels nearly like he’s just teasing you, his voice cutting out sporadically as his body shakes and trembles. His grip on your hair goes from bordering on painful to almost excruciating. His cock penetrates your throat as he forces you to bob your head faster and faster, your saliva drip, drip, dripping down your chin into your awaiting hands so it doesn’t land on the ground. His cock twitches eagerly in your throat, making you gag harder and you can feel the beginnings of bile build up and prepare to spew out.

“Swallow it for me, you have to swallow.” His voice is grunting, straining as his eyes flutter closed as he continues to pump himself into your mouth.

You gag violently as his cum floods your mouth and throat, his cum breaching and coming out of your nose as you cough around him. To your credit, you manage to swallow what didn’t flow from your nose though it’s not as though you had much of a choice. You can’t help but glare up at him as he holds your head in place, tears run down your cheeks from the pain of being throatfucked and the pain of hot cum spewing from your nose.

He laughs and lets your hair go, watching with amusement as you gasp for breath, choking on his cum. “Say that you loved it.”

You wipe the spit from your chin and cum from your nostrils and sit back on your butt, hands resting on the cold ground. You don’t want to say it, you really don’t want to say it, but you know that you have to. “I loved it.”

“Good, good… Now are you done making a mess for the night?”

“Depends on if you’re done making me into a mess.”

“I’m never done making you into a mess.”

#x reader #jjk x reader #jujustu kaisen x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna x reader #kinktober 2023 #banner by cafekitsune

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overwatchfics · 10 months

Note

Hey, can you do Widowmaker with an S/O who has a chest tattoo?

Skin on Skin - Widow smut drabble NSFW.

Her lips drag across your cheek before blowing lightly against your ear "What is it you wanted to show me ma chérie?" a hand falls to hold you by the lower back, securing your place in her lap. You lean back, arching into her briefly before bringing your hands to either side on the hemming along your shirt before pulling the cotton fabric off yourself slowly. Amélie's electric amber eyes tracked every inch of skin revealed as your shirt lay way to moonlit skin. You paused just right before your bra, nerves taking over. This doesn't go unnoticed by Amélie who lifts a hand and holds it over yours and guiding it slowly upward, peeling the shirt over your head, her eyes staring at your joined hands then flickering down at the very noticeable tattoo on your chest. A soft gasp leaves her purpled lips, as her gaze wanders over the inked skin with wonder and care.

Fingers trailing over the webbings of a spider before landing on said spider at the apex of your chest. A little sentence in French was a prelude to a story Amélie told you on one of your first nights together out on the Eiffel tower; was tattooed right below your collarbone. It told of a lone spider finding love in the rain. Faintly glowing eyes flashed briefly before tearing up a little, the hand that trailed along your chest, dragged its way you to your jaw and cradled its weight gently. Her forehead meets yours in a gentle press, violet lashes fluttering shut, her cool breath ghosting against your lips "There are no words in any language that I can use that can describe how much I love you chérie." Your lips move to meet hers in a slow kiss, the weight of the room seems to float as her hands start to roam around your body finding purchases where your breath hitches. Amélie pulls away gently, her eyes flitting open and her pupils dilate "But perhaps, I can express this love through worship, skin to skin, my hands and mouth will find you in places others will never know of.-" a kiss to your neck, fangs pressing gently "This black Widow, loves too much to share, in the blood I've spilled over these hands, it is a pleasure to know they can still hold your warmth in them." a hand falls to your shoulder as her fangs pause "And still you will not fear, a fly before the spider, a reminder that I can love and can be loved, fear not little fly, You will be kept safe in my web" the Widowmaker's fangs take a sharp plunge into your neck, tearing a gasp from your throat. You can feel Amélie lips curl into a fang-limited smirk as you breathe start to pick up in volume as they shift into soft whines. Her fingers graze along your abdomen before dipping into the waistband of your undergarments, fangs retracting as she kisses you with bloodied lips. Gasping and choking on air, Amélie's fingers slide across your heat, picking up slick with every gentle movement. "Look at me chérie" you fight the urge to throw your head back as a lone finger slide around your entrance, dipping inside to the first knuckle and curling. Your eyes meet hers "That's it, I want this picture of you burned into my memory for all my days." a second finger pushes its way along the first and a thumb finds its way to the apex of your heat, rubbing insistently. Moans break loose from your throat and Amélie sighs in appreciation "sing for me lovely" her fingers pick up speed and she pulls you closer into her torso, leaving open mouthed kisses along your neck. You've lost control of your volume as Amélie imitates your moans by humming into your neck after each one. You clutch onto her back, nails digging into the gaps of her shoulder blades, head thrown back, mouth open in a song of pleasure. It feels as though an inferno burning brightly in the passion that has consumed the two of you, Amélie stoking the coals inside, the pleasure once but a flame, now rages throughout your body as you reach your peak, quaking violently on her lap. She holds you through it, her fingers rocking you through the orgasm and the aftershocks of it before slowing and stilling inside you. "You are so very loved ma chérie, never forget that you've gone and tattooed your love for me across your chest, so I have left mine in the form of a matching spider bite." Looking behind Amélie you catch a glimpse of a bloodied bite on the junction between your neck and shoulder. You feel the thighs beneath yours disappear as Amélie stands and pulls your up into a carry before walking the two of you to the bathroom, your hands flying around her neck to situate yourself securely in her hold. The sniper lets out a silken laugh before pressing a light kiss against your temple.

A/N: IM BACK BITCHES. WITH SOFT WIDOW SMUT. IT'S NOT MAGE SMUT UNLESS THERE'S BITING (: ILL PROOF READ LATER IM REALLY TIRED ENJOY!

#overwatch x reader #overwatch2 #overwatch #widowmaker x reader #widowmaker #amelie lacroix #amélie lacroix x reader #i just need widow in my heart and im fine

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scrapratsoldier · 5 months

Text

IT'S THE FIRST DRINK they have together.

The second they have as friends. By the fourth, Cal isn’t so sure. He hasn’t had a lot of close friends or hard liquor. The way their eyes seem to hold longer with every refill could be as common as sand on Tattooine.

Greez glances at them from time to time as he polishes glasses, countertops, and bottles. He throws one or even two elbows into Monk's side vent to encourage the droid to do what you were made for, huh with a gesture. Cal and Bode are never empty, even with Monk, and Zee, too, steering themselves and their conversation clear of the two men sitting at the end of the bar closest to the back access.

None of that is inherently strange. Neither is the way they lean towards each other to hear over the three songs on replay (gotta get on Greez about that) or how the trust between them, between two survivors, makes it easier to talk about the past— they’ve already saved each other's lives and shared grief in the short time they’ve been acquainted. The first time Bode looks at Cal's mouth when Cal smiles isn’t all that exceptional. It’s by the fourth that Cal isn’t so sure.

Cal is more than a lightsaber, Greez said, but Cal isn't so sure about that either. All he knows is war. He knows how to survive. When you let loose, how loose? He has to be ready for anything. Just not this type of anything. He doesn't know what he's supposed to do with a look or even four. He doesn't know what to do about the hand on his thigh when they laugh so hard he almost chokes on his Slippery Monk (which was part of the joke, what an awful name for a cocktail). He doesn't know what it means when Bode, with something encrypted behind his stare, casually asks, "Show me your workbench?"

Cal almost doesn't want to show him his workbench. He knows how to say no, yes, and maybe, but Cal is a survivor. His instincts are sharp. He knows when he's being backed into a corner, and that's why he almost doesn't lead him down the stairs, past the storage and the kitchen, to the little room Greez had set up for him over five years ago with the hope that, someday, the Jedi would rest in it. He could take the stairs back up to the bar; he could dive down the smuggler's tunnel; or burst out the last door into the street; even with all of these exits, Cal does not have an exit strategy.

Cal is a survivor, and letting Bode back him into the corner of the room feels like it goes against everything he's ever learned.

"I'm not twice shy once bitten, Kestis," Bode's thick arms pen him, his head lulled nonthreateningly, his dark, glossy hair dusting the shoulder pad of his armor; eyes lazily closed; smile rosy from drink and anticipation. "Either way you wanna take that." He does not touch Cal, but his breath does, tickling Cal's crop of violent red hair; and his intent does. "You just let me know."

"I," Cal breathes, his eyes at half mast, the buckles tinking on his vest as his chest quietly heaves, and he fights, he fights the fight in himself. His arms are rigid at his sides, tied up as tightly as they've ever been.

"I don't know. What I'm supposed to say."

"What do you want to say?" Bode prompts. He smells like sweat, oil, and alcohol, and if any of that should be a deterrent, it is not. He smells like hot metal and hard work.

"I don't know," Cal says stiffly.

"The only wrong answer," Bode says, lifting his head and examining Cal's pink, freckled face up close. "Is the one you'll hate yourself for. Or me. I'm your friend, Cal. That can extend past the battlefield."

Cal's jaw knots. He looks down. His Adam's apple bobs when he swallows. "The type of friend you're talking about. I've mixed the two before," Cal says. Merrin. Never again. "It…complicates things."

Bode chuckles. Shakes his head.

Cal looks up at him quizzically.

"It's already complicated," Bode says. His eyes shine bittersweetly. "It's always complicated. I'm just trying to survive. War…"

Bode lifts his hand from the wall, and after a short stall of hesitation, he slides it against the side of Cal's neck. A warm, heavy weight. Encouraged, when Cal's lashes flutter and his mouth parts.

"War," Bode says again, his thumb stroking the deep scar on Cal's cheek. "Hardens you. I want to stay soft. For my daughter. For Tayala's memory of me."

Cal leans in with a shiver like Bode's is the first hand that has ever touched him, his own hands reaching up to cusp the sides of Bode's face. Bode presses their foreheads together and steps closer. He turns his face in and, in a husky whisper, murmurs, "Let me soften you, Cal."

Cal is a survivor.

Bode is too.

Cal knows he's not alone, but when Bode lifts him off the floor, wraps Cal's legs around his slim waist, and carries him. When they both tuck into the tiny bed cubby and laugh because Bode bumps his head. When they shed their armor and clothes. When their hands and mouths cannot still, and Bode moves in him, and, after, they take turns talking about their scars… He really feels it.

Not alone.

And he wants to be soft, too.

#bode akuna #cal kestis #spyscrapper #jedi: survivor #what are you talking about #this is canon #bode akuna + cal kestis #ficlet #feel free to reblog

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finalboyyy · 1 year

Text

poison in the well

sam (sdv) x yandere!reader

abusive relationship, violence, extreme jealousy, sebastian hate, angst

this is based on my own experience with my dear sammy. after trying to find cute sam art and finding a lot of sam/sebastian everytime he'd go to the saloon on friday id get sad. until i modded him to be a yandere and then everything was fine! so anyway. might add another part to this later.

"You were out late again."

"Ah- Sorry I got caught up talking to Seb, almost beat him tonight!"

"...So you were with him?"

"Yeah? You know I was! We always hang out at the saloon with Abby."

Fingers rap against the handcrafted dining room table. Like tiny drums daring to disturb the still silence of the night. Something not even the usually loud animals would do.

"Are you... angry..?" Sam's voice is tepid, it reminds you of a child scared to be scolded. It's something you love about him, this hopeful innocence as if bad things couldn't really exist in this world.

Infuriating.

He spends all night out with that man and expects you not to be a little annoyed? When you get out of the mines at 9 and come home eagerly only to find him gone? After everything you did and you were so eager to see him at home?

"I don't like getting home before you."

"I-I know but it's just one night..?"

You can feel the anger in your chest rising. Sebastian fills your head like a ghost, haunting your thoughts and choking out your words. The image seductively places his hands on Sam's hips, a cigarette lazily held limp between his painted lips. Sam has one awkwardly held between his own as well. Sebastian begins to move the two bodys to the rhythm of a painfully slow song, his mouth moving closer to Sam's, the butts of the cigarettes kissing in a hazy blur of smoke, alcohol, and lust. Sickening. You want to throw up. Your chest hurts.

"Y/N?? Are you ok? You look sick. You should lie down-" As he moves closer to your frozen form the smell of cigarettes fills your nostrils knocking out of your daze.

You look up at him with wide eyes, your pupils so small and dilated you look unhinged. Fear sets into Sam when you grab his arm with too much strength that he knows you could break his arm if you tried. Your head tilts to the side as you look into his emerald eyes.

"Y/N... you're scaring me-"

"Why... Why do you... smell like him...?" Your words are slow, laboured, as if it's taking everything in you to spit them out. You don't want the answer. Everything aches.

"Like who??"

"Sebastian." You spit at him the name tastes like venom in your mouth. He's the poison seeping into your marriage.

"I-I? I had a cigarette with him. I don't see-"

Sam can't finish his sentence before he's violently pinned to the table. Your strength from working tirelessly is no match for his soft skin. He bruises so easily under you, like always.

"I won't let him have you. I won't... He can't..."

"Wh-whoa hold on... H-hey y/n l-lets talk about this! Y-your'e hurting me."

You can't hear him properly, it feels like he's talking through an ocean. All you can think about is the sickening smell of cigarettes, Sebastian, the time Jodi told you that she always expected her son to end up with Sebastian, their closeness, that stupid whore.

Sam continues to whimper and plea on deaf ears as you hold him down. Your mind is racing a mile a minute as you boil with anger at Sebastian and you desperately try to come up with a way to keep Sam safe from him. Everytime your brain attempts a cohesive thought about the current position you're in with your husband more doubt and fear swallows your mind.

"Y/n... please...." Sam's voice is so soft, so gentle. Has he talked to Sebastian with this voice? Is he begging you to let him run back to that horrible man?

"Won't... let you go... Can't." Your breathing is laboured as you lean closer to him. "Even if you hate me. Even if you loathe me. Even if you love him-"

"I don't love him!" It doesn't reach you.

"I won't let you go Sammy. My Sammy. Have to protect you. You have to stay inside." That was the answer wasn't it? Never let Sam leave. You were a genius! You dragged him by his aching wrist over to the basement door. Tomorrow you'd go to Clint's and have some chains made, tonight it was enough to throw him in the basement and lock the door.

That's how Sam's new life began.

#yandere #yandere imagines #yandere drabble #sam stardew valley #stardew valley x reader #stardew valley imagines #sam sdv x reader #yandere reader #stardew sam x reader #was i a pathetic nerd for getting jealous of sebastian #yes #but would i do it again #probably

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eurydicees · 1 year

Note

TamaKyo 8

heyyyyyyyy so i had a bad dream last night and i woke up and decided to inflict my pain onto tamaki. you know. as you do. also, like, it's not my fault for this being my #8 song of 2022. i plead the fifth to allegations of listening to this song so fucking many times.

anyways.

summary: tamaki has a bad dream. kyoya gets him through the night. they’ll go down together, or not at all. prompt: spotify wrapped prompts #8, no children (the mountain goats) pairings: tamaki suoh/kyoya ootori words: 1990 warnings: slutshaming (very very brief)

dirt

In his dream, Kyoya is sitting at the piano bench and staring down at the keys. He’s not playing; he’s just staring down at the keys. He presses one, a lone discordant noise in an empty music room. Tamaki walks towards him, but with every step, Kyoya just seems to get farther away. He’s an oasis in the desert, never getting closer. He’s just a mirror image, no matter how many steps Tamaki takes.

Tamaki starts to speed up, taking faster and faster steps, panting as he begins to run. “Kyoya! Kyoya! Kyoya—”

He stops, breathing heavily. Kyoya is sitting right in front of him now. The music room is dark, melting away into an empty void. All that’s left is a piano and Kyoya and Tamaki, putting a hand out on his shoulder and squeezing.

“I was looking for you,” Tamaki says, breathless.

Kyoya brushes his hand off of his shoulder, the movement a snap of his wrist: violent and harsh. His voice is hard, dead and quiet, when he says, “Don’t.”

“What?”

Kyoya stands up, turning around. His eyes are dark, his gaze narrowed in on Tamaki. “Don’t touch me. You’re filthy.”

Tamaki flinches, stepping back. Kyoya would never say that to him. Kyoya wouldn’t, he wouldn’t. Kyoya has always been better than that kind of bigotry and hatred. He’s always been caring, no matter how much he protests otherwise. He’s always been more accepting than anyone else, whether or not he’ll admit it. Kyoya wouldn’t say that. Wouldn’t call him that. Not when he knows how much it hurts.

Tamaki does everything he can not to be offended by these things, by words like filth and bastard and harlot and disgusting. He’s stronger than that, most days. The words barely register as the insults they are when people like his grandmother spit them in his face, like when some of the other students whisper them behind his back.

His mother told him to go to Japan with a smile. She had taught him to be stronger than the racism he was subjected to in France and the hatred his grandmother pushed on him, even as a child too young to understand any of what was being put on his shoulders. His mother had told him to ignore it, to be bigger than it, to be lighter than it.

But Kyoya says, “You’re the bastard son of a slut. You think I want you to even come near me?”

Tamaki thinks he stops breathing. “Kyoya.”

“My name doesn’t belong in your mouth.” Kyoya takes a step forward, Tamaki takes a step back. The tension between them is a string tied taut around Tamaki’s throat, choking him tighter and tighter as he moves; Kyoya takes that string and pulls. Kyoya sighs. He closes his eyes like he does when he’s tired of Tamaki’s bullshit and trying to keep himself calm. The expression has never seemed so sinister before now. “You don’t have the right to say it. You’re disgusting.”

Tamaki opens his mouth, ready to say his name again, beg him to tell him what’s going on, why he’s being like this, why he’s saying these awful things, but he’s suddenly choking on it. It won’t leave his tongue, as if Kyoya has taken hold of him and choked the sound out of his throat.

“What are you talking about?” Tamaki manages to say. He can feel tears pricking his eyes like little pins and needles.

Kyoya’s face is blank, careful not to betray anything. He’s always been guarded but—Tamaki was allowed on the other side of those walls so long ago that he’s forgotten what it felt like to not be able to read his expression. “You know exactly what I’m talking about. I’m only here because my father told me to get close to you, Suoh. But you make it harder and harder to be around you every day. You’re loud. Demanding. Stupid. Spoiled. Nothing more than an unwanted son. You’re nothing at all.”

Tamaki swallows. Opens his mouth to say something, but nothing comes out but air.

In his dream, Kyoya finally smiles, sick and twisted and warped, nothing like his usual half-smirk. It’s threatening. Tamaki is going to be sick.

He wakes up with a start: breaths heaving, a weight on his chest that he can’t push away. He’s sweating, the sheets tangled around his ankles, and it takes a moment to realize it, but he’s weeping. The tears are slipping down his cheeks, drop by drop by drop, slipping down his cheeks and staining the pillow he had been lying on. The tears are running off and onto his neck now, wet and cold. Breath is coming in bursts, in gasps rather than inhales and exhales.

“Kyoya,” he whispers, trying to make sure he can say it. Trying to make sure he can make the name fit in his mouth. Trying to make sure he still has the ability, the right. “Kyoya.”

He rolls over in bed and presses his face into the pillow. It was just a dream. It was just a dream. It was just a dream.

But everything that dream-Kyoya said to him is a thing someone has said to him in real life. Every word that had come out of his mouth in that dream is a word that Tamaki has heard while awake. Kyoya might have never said them to his face, but that doesn’t mean they don’t get traded like secrets everybody knows when he turns around.

The problem, really, is that those names, those insults, they aren’t wrong. He is filthy, his blood is stained ink in his veins. He is, by all technical definitions, a bastard son, the regrettable result of an affair. He is loud and demanding and—

Tamaki lets out another sob. He can’t do this. He wants, on one hand, to wallow in this feeling forever; he wants to let himself sink into the dark void of that room in his dream, listening to the echo of Kyoya’s words on repeat. He wants to—

He rolls out of bed, and though the clock reads 3:19am, he stumbles towards the phone. Kyoya will be awake; he’s never asleep before 4am. Tamaki has called him at worse hours, and Kyoya has almost always answered. Tamaki dials his number, his hands shaking.

Kyoya answers within two rings. He always does. I’m only here because my father told me to get close to you, Suoh.

“It’s three in the morning,” is the first thing that Kyoya says. “What’s wrong?”

“Why does something have to be wrong?” Tamaki chokes out. “I could just be…I don’t know.”

Kyoya sighs, barely audible over the phone. Demanding. Stupid. Spoiled. “You’re always in bed by 10pm. The only reason you’re ever awake at this hour is if something is wrong.”

“Oh,” Tamaki murmurs. He sits, practically collapsing on the floor, the cord of the phone tangled in between his fingers. “You know my sleep schedule.”

“I know you.”

Tamaki swallows, squeezing his eyes shut. “Do you…like me? Like, as a person? A human being?”

Kyoya is quiet. “What’s going on, Tamaki?”

“Just…answer the question. Please, Kyoya.”

“Yes,” Kyoya says. He exhales the word more than says it; breathes it as if it comes so naturally that there’s no need to think about it. “Yes, I like you as a person.”

Tamaki lets out a breath. Just the tiniest bit of the weight has slipped off of his chest. His breathing is even again, or getting closer to it. “You can leave at any time, you know. If you have to. I know I’m—I’m dragging you down with me.”

“What are you talking about?” Kyoya’s voice is sharp, cutting down Tamaki’s anxiety like an X-Acto knife put to cardboard. “Tamaki, what are you saying?”

“I know you’re only here because of your father.”

Kyoya sucks in a breath. There’s silence for a moment, like all of the words have been sucked from Kyoya’s lungs. Then, finally, “Tamaki…my father might have been why I came, but I—but he’s not why I stay.”

Tamaki is quiet. He doesn’t have the words for this conversation. How can he say all of the things in his head? What words are there for it? I’m nothing. I never meant anything to anyone other than my mother, and my mother might as well have sold me. I’m covered in the filth of my parents’ mistakes. I have bad dreams and they stick with me and burn like leeches on my heart; I have bad dreams and one day they will come true. I love you and it’s going to take down both of us.

“What did you mean you’re dragging me down with you?” Kyoya asks, something hoarse in his voice.

“There’s nothing—” Tamaki takes a breath, opens his eyes to the dark of his bedroom. His words are bitter, but they shake. He gets louder as he speaks, and he doesn’t care if he wakes up the ghosts in the empty house, he just wants to fall apart within himself.

“You know my reputation, Kyoya,” he continues. “You know who my mother is. You know why I’m even here, in Japan, in the first place. You know that I’m—I’m not good like everyone else you know! It’s not possible for someone like me to be good, I’m just—unlovable. I can’t stand up with the rest of the rich and beautiful and—”

“Stop,” Kyoya cuts in. “Tamaki, you’re one of the most good people I know. You deserve—Tamaki. Tamaki.”

Tamaki takes another breath. The tears are wet on his face, but they’re drying. “What is it?”

“You’re not dragging me down. Don’t be fucking stupid, Tamaki, you’re not dragging anyone down. And I don’t give a fuck about your family history. I give a fuck about you.”

You make it harder and harder to be around you every day.

“Tamaki,” Kyoya says again. He says his name desperately, like a prayer on his bitten lips, like a dream torn from his hands. “You already—I know—I know you know.”

He sounds like he’s choking on the words and Tamaki wonders why they’re so hard to hear, because he does know. He knows how Kyoya feels. He also knows that nothing can ever be done about it, because Tamaki is dirty and he’ll never be beneficial to the Ootori family.

Kyoya takes an audible breath. Over the phone, it sounds like static. “I know you know how I—feel. You’re not dragging me down, and even if you were dragging me down, you know that I’d let you. You know that I—if you’re dirty, so am I, okay? And I don’t care.”

“Oh,” Tamaki chokes out. “Kyoya—”

“I know you don’t feel the same,” Kyoya interrupts. “So don’t bother saying it. It’s fine. The point here is that you’re so, so lovable. You’re so loved, Tamaki, no matter your blood family or your history or how you sometimes do stupid things or any of that. You’re loved.”

Tamaki takes a shuddering breath. The shadows of his bedroom no longer feel so dark. “So are you.”

There’s silence on the other end of the phone call for a moment, and Tamaki wants, desperately, for Kyoya to read between the lines of his words.

Read: you’re everything to me. Read: I’m never going to be good enough for your family, but I hope the part of me that’s me before a Suoh is good enough for the part of you that’s you before an Ootori. Read: thank you for always picking up the phone when I call.

Read: I am going to ruin us, but thank you for letting me.

“Okay,” Kyoya says quietly. “I’m here, no matter what. Blood or history or unlovable.”

Tamaki closes his eyes. He wants to say so much, he wants to make so many promises, but all he can say at that moment is a whisper: “Okay.”

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