#who will he be paired with for the event?

[sorceresssundries]

Heatwave

Pairing: Gale x Fem Tav

Summary: It is the final social event of the summer season, and Tav has dressed poorly for a festival in the midst of a heatwave. One-shot.

Warnings: Oral Sex, Vaginal Sex, Sweat-licking, Smut.

Word Count: 3.9k

A/N: Another smutty Austen inspired work with a bit of fluff! This time in a universe outside of BG3. There definitely seems to be a weather theme in these one-shots. Maybe they'll fuck in the snow next, who knows?

The Festival of Shieldmeet had dominated conversations throughout the city all summer long. With the event occurring only once every four years, the anticipation had reached a fever pitch, rendering even the sweltering heatwave a minor inconvenience. The idea of postponing or, heaven forbid, cancelling such a revered social event due to something as minor as the weather was simply inconceivable.

The festival was being held in the sprawling grounds belonging to some Lord or Lady who had earned the privilege of hosting. In the heart of a large, manicured, bloom-laden garden stood a bandstand where bards were tuning their instruments, ready to serenade the guests with summer melodies. Alongside it stretched a long table adorned with dishes piled high with the richest Waterdhavian delicacies. Attendants in crisp uniforms weaved through the crowds, bearing trays laden with sparkling drinks in tall glasses, as well as refreshing juices and icy water. There also seemed to be tables scattered around with trays stacked with rolled up flannels sitting in ice, patiently waiting to be scooped up and dabbed at the forehead of the sweltering guests - These seemed to be a welcome addition, as there was scarcely any shade to be found anywhere. 

Tav found herself in a state of utter misery. Seeking solace from the stifling crowds, she had retreated to the embrace of the shade beneath an oak tree bordering the garden, where she fervently fanned herself out of sight. She had naively and desperately assumed that the shade would cool her, but despite the protection from the sun’s direct attention the air was still just as cloying, and squeezed her with suffocating stillness. What she wouldn’t give for even the whisper of a breeze. The sad little paper fan she had acquired was doing very little work for her, just pushing the warmth forwards and heating her even further in her efforts to keep it moving. 

For some inexplicable reason she couldn't recall, she had chosen to don her finest silk gown over a whalebone corset. It hugged her curves with an unforgiving grip, accentuating her form and lifting her breasts. With a smile as wide as her hips, she had admired herself in the mirror before departing. However, that smile faded the moment she stepped out of her cooled carriage and into the searing heat of the midday sun. She had immediately noticed the guests dressed in garments far more suited to the occasion than her own.

What a foolish notion this had been, she mused, wiping a bead of sweat from her brow. She had no idea what had driven this madness. Well.. she thought as she peeked out from behind the tree and across at the crowd gathered in the garden, maybe she had a slight idea. 

Gale Dekarios was an exceptionally handsome man who exuded infuriating arrogance, boundless pride, and endless charm. From their first encounter at the spring ball, he had claimed her attention at every subsequent event. She had ‘accidentally’ stepped on his foot during one of their early dances, after he had explained to her his proficiency with magic and his gallant willingness to at least try and teach her some of his simpler spells. He had laughed at her annoyance, apologised profusely, and kissed her hand at the end of the evening. She had been aflame ever since.

Throughout the season, they had fallen into a familiar routine. Their ritual involved stealing glances at one another, offering subtle gestures of acknowledgment, and then both making a concerted effort not to meet eyes again. Yet, inevitably, one of them would find themselves drawn towards the other. It was a dance of restraint, leaving Tav exhilarated each time, despite the exhausting choreography. She was never really sure who was leading the dance, but at this moment, sweating and flustered and hiding behind a tree, Tav decided it probably wasn’t her. 

As each evening would draw to a close, he would always bid her goodnight with a kiss upon her hand, each time lingering longer than the last, and tell her how much he was looking forward to their next meeting. Upon returning home, Tav would often find herself lost in fantasies, imagining his hand tangled in her hair, his lips tracing the curves of her body. More often than not, these night-time reveries ended with her own desperate touch and his name cried out from her lips.

In the privacy of sweet slumber, she would dream of their next encounter, eagerly anticipating another opportunity to engage in their dance and hoping to step on his feet once more.

Maybe she had more magic in her than she realised, as her very thoughts appeared to have summoned him to her hiding place.

“Ah, Miss Taventon. I thought I spotted you retreating all the way out here.” He greeted her with his customary charm. As always, he was a vision to behold, with his dark, mischievously glinting eyes and sweeping brown locks pulled back from his face. Clad in simple yet impeccably tailored attire—a snug waistcoat over a pristine white shirt, adorned with a luxurious silken cravat, and well-fitted breeches. Frustratingly, he looked completely unaffected by the blistering warmth, and Tav thought she must look like a sweating, breathless fool in comparison. She only had time to be embarrassed momentarily, before she realised the precarious nature of their situation.  For the first time, they were properly alone together and Tav blushed at the thought of being found with him behind a tree so far away from the party. There would be a scandal. 

“Mr. Dekarios, a pleasure.” She looked around to try and see if anyone would catch them in their compromising seclusion, but it appeared they were safe for now. “I’m afraid you’ve caught me a little affected by the heat. I was just after a moment of respite.” She began to fan herself more fervently.

“Understandable, I'm sure. For one not versed in magic.” His smugness had returned, and Tav always treated it as a welcome challenge.

“Well, not all of us are as exceptional as you” She batted her eyelashes at him sweetly and took in his cool, handsome appearance. “Let me guess, enchanted clothing?” He bowed his head in confirmation of her appraisal, still looking smug and annoyingly unflustered by the heat. “A shame it could not chill your ego, but alas, I suppose your talent has to end somewhere.” 

His smile in return was genuine. He very much enjoyed her banter. Almost as much as he enjoyed seeing her sweating under the shade of the giant oak tree. 

He raised a hand in mock defeat. “Peace, my lady. I came bearing a gift. In an effort to cool your skin, and perhaps even your temper.” She really was ravishing in this state, he thought, overheated and fiery. He wondered whether she was aware of his true intentions in seeking her out. It was the final event of the summer season, and as such, their elaborate game would have to come to an end. 

As she reached out to accept the cool towel he offered, a surge of boldness seized him. With a swift motion, he closed the distance between them until he was almost pressed against her, and with a tender touch, he placed the cold flannel against the side of her neck. He had hoped it would elicit a reaction from her, at the very least a small gasp of surprise, but she remained silent. She just watched him as the droplets from the towel trailed slow down her neck, caressing her collarbone in the way his fingers ached to, and gathering to rest glistening on the shelf of her breasts which had been pushed up by her corset. 

He had thoughts of ripping it off her. The silk of her dress would tear like tissue in his practised hands, and he would cast the tatters of it into the wind and spend an entire afternoon finding where the pools of her sweat gathered. He ached to know what undergarments she was wearing, what colour, how the material would taste if he pressed his tongue against. It. He hoped it was white cotton, something the scent and taste of her would cling to - so damp with sweat and desire that he would be able to see her dark curls through the material. 

He could feel the cooling enchantment wrapped round him waning as his concentration and resolve were tested. Damn heat. Damn woman. She knew exactly what she was doing. Who wears a silk-wrapped corset in a heatwave? Each bead of sweat and whisper of her heated musk was a siren’s call, and he was determined to drown himself in the ocean of her. 

“I am no expert in fashion, Miss Taventon, but I must question the decision to wear a silk gown in such conditions. Surely linen, or cotton would have been preferable? Or maybe one enjoys the sensations brought on by basking in such stifling heat?” His tone was more frustrated than he meant it to be.

“I thought it would be light and cooling, Saer. Not all of us are gifted with the ability to enchant our clothing.” She narrowed her eyes at him, and wondered if every item he was wearing was enchanted.. She quickly snapped out of her musings “An unfortunate error on my part, I hadn’t taken into account the lack of breeze, or the…” 

“Stickiness?” He said, focusing intently on dabbing her neck and chest with the flannel and not meeting her eyes.

“The humidity. Yes.” 

He took a break from his attentions and discarded the flannel, to take a leisurely sip of his drink. The droplets of condensation cascaded down the glass like tiny beads of sweat. Tav couldn't help but watch, a pang of envy stirring within her as she observed the icy water slip downwards and through his fingers. There was too much electric heat here, strung out in the very air, no amount of cool water would save her. She needed to be swathed by him, to smother the flames until they burnt out into ash. Even then, she was certain there would be embers enough to fan back to roaring flame at just one breathy word from him. She was doomed kindling.

The soft clink of ice against glass filled the air as he drank, his gaze never wavering from hers. With intent, he parted his lips slightly, allowing a single ice cube to slide into his mouth. She couldn't tear her eyes away as he savoured it, rolling it around his mouth with his tongue.

“Most refreshing.” He breathed, after a long, heavy swallow,  “Could I tempt you with a sip?” 

“I..Maybe.. This heat has caused quite a desperate thirst. Although I notice you have only brought one glass. How impolite of you” She dropped her fan to the ground in vexation, stupid thing was not doing anything to help. There was no saving her now.

He smirked and bowed his head slightly. “Not to worry, dear lady.” His eyes darkened and his voice became a heated command. “Open your mouth for me”

At first there was shock, but then without question she did as she was told, like a girl entranced. With a deft movement of his fingers, he plucked another ice cube from his glass and placed it delicately on her waiting tongue. 

Tav saw a chance and took it.

Before he could withdraw his hand, she wrapped her fingers around his wrist, and the surprise in his eyes lit her like a firework. She burned for these moments, for any slip in his resolve, any evidence behind the refinery and politeness that there were things she could do that would shock him. If there was a crack in his armour, she would slip in like water and drown him in sin.

Locking eyes with him, she held his gaze steady as she took control. With a boldness she hadn't known she possessed, she leaned forward and enveloped his fingers in her mouth, sucking gently and letting the ice cube melt against her tongue in a sweet rush of cold. It was a calculated move, a daring play, and as she released his hand, a flicker of satisfaction fluttered in her eyes. The game was afoot, and she was changing the rules. 

She let go of his fingers, and smiled innocently. “How right you are as always, Mr.Dekarios. Most refreshing.” She lilted, still sucking on the remnants of the ice in her mouth. 

He had suddenly lost his footing. The blood that was keeping him focused and leading their little game had suddenly re-routed elsewhere, and he was struggling to compose thoughts. He had no words, so actions would have to do.

He drew closer to her, the space between them shrinking, and he reached out his hand to trace a delicate path from the warmth of her flushed cheek, along the elegant curve of her jaw, down to the hollow of her throat. There, just above the gentle rise and fall of her bosom, he noticed a glistening bead of sweat, which he captured with his fingertip. Bringing it to his lips, he savoured it, and made a noise of growling satisfaction. Her breath hitched beautifully in response.

"It appears you're still uncomfortably warm. I'd hardly be a gentleman if I allowed you to suffer like this." With a languid sip of his drink, he popped another ice cube into his mouth. 

“You are no…”  

He aimed to catch off guard before she could finish. He closed what little gap was left between them and all playfulness burned away in the heat, leaving nothing but desperation. Fuck games, fuck dancing around each other, and fuck that ridiculous silk dress she was wearing. She had won their game, and her prize would be for him to take her the way he had been wanting to for the entire summer. 

His glass fell to the ground with no thought at all, and he grabbed at her waist. Pushing her back against the tree and pinning her there with a leg between her thighs. He finally earned a gasp of surprise from her, as he pushed his lips against her throat, and pressed the ice cube against her pulsing skin with his tongue. 

The noise she made was tantalisingly balanced between relief and desire, and he kept the ice firmly against her as he moved it further down her neck, mimicking the trail of sweat his finger had traced earlier. He delighted in the way her skin prickled as the ice caressed her. She was divine. He wanted to tease her until she lost all of her brazen stares and cutting banter, and all that was left was a puddle of a woman. He wanted to undo her the way he would her clothes, and watch her fall apart under his hands, his tongue, the push of his hips…

"Someone... Will..." Her voice came out in gasping pleas as he continued caressing her with the ice. "Find us..." He needed to remove that damn corset soon; restricted breathing wasn't conducive to the way he wanted to hear her cry out for him— completely unbound. A fleeting desire crossed his mind to restrain her in other ways, at other times. But for now, he simply needed to see how the heat had flushed her body, with as little material between them as possible.

“You think I would allow anyone else to see you like this? I am not a man who shares his treasure.” His cocky little grin made a slight reappearance as he pulled his lips away from her damp skin to meet her eyes and offer some cooling sincerity. “A spell has been cast, no one will see nor hear us. You are safe with me, my dream. Always.”

He lost himself to a moment of softness, and caressed her face with total adoration.

“I have craved the taste of you all summer. The sun itself could not burn me in the way you have. I am a scorch mark, I am the cindered ashes of all restraint. You are my sun. And no one else will gaze upon you the way I will.”

There was no response adequate to match the sudden delicacy of his words, leaving Tav momentarily speechless. In that fleeting moment of enraptured, adoring silence, Gale misunderstood her reaction, his beautiful face falling with concern, fearing he had unwittingly caused her distress.

“Tell me you do not desire me, that this soft heat inflaming you is not at least partly caused by your feelings for me. Tell me I have imagined your eyes searching for me, your playful need for my hands on you as we dance, and I will leave it at this. I will have spent a summer loving you, and it will have been the brightest and warmest of all my seasons.” 

He loved her. The air suddenly felt lighter. He was the breeze she had been craving. 

Her bright smile cracked through the initial shock of his confession, and relief swept over him like a tide. “I know you have a vivid imagination, Mr. Dekarios. But put it away, it is not needed here. I have attended each event only in the hope of being in your presence. It seems we both have had a summer well spent.” She kissed him then; sweetly, lovingly and he laughed enough for the crinkles between his eyes to appear. 

It did not take long for the damned dress to be torn from the skin of her sweat-slicked body. For the corset to be ripped from its bindings. For the softness of her breasts to find their place against his tongue, nipples peaking as though the heat didn’t exist, his hot breath and cool tongue creating a heady mix of magic which made her skin sing. 

Tomorrow, there would be rough marks on her back from the bark of the tree - but for now the slight pain only added to the overwhelming sensations which crawled their way over her body, her sweat mingling with his as he tore off his shirt and pressed himself against her. Caging her against the trunk. His skin was cool against hers, and steam danced between them as though melted steel was being forged by cool water. He was hard, she could feel it. 

His tongue flattened at her skin of her neck and her breasts, and licked away the lust-induced sweat his affection had caused. The fresh, salty taste may as way have been laced with liquor for the effect it was having on him. She tasted of sweet wine with the faint hint of salt. It was subtle, but he needed something richer. His attention moved downwards, and It was not long till he reached that most sacred place, where he had been aching to lose himself in scent and taste. He took his time and inhaled her. Using his nose to caress her sweet spot as he relished in the full-bodied flavour of her. 

As soon as his mouth began lavishing her, she realised he had somehow extended the cooling enchantment to his tongue. Her head was thrown back against the tree in ecstasy, the press of his mouth against her quickly becoming too much for her to handle. There was a brief moment of self-consciousness, where she worried about how the heat of the day would affect her taste. But the worry was soon lost, the thought drowned out by the sound of his appreciation and the realisation that he was stroking himself as he devoured her. 

He was dedicated in his endeavour, although no amount of skin-tingling magic would be able to balm the fire coursing through her veins. She thought she would never cool, that she would be a woman on fire for the rest of her love-fuelled days. The sensation was mesmeric, and she could not remember a sweeter sensation than this man on his knees in front of her, face buried between her legs and using his tongue to caress her with such enthusiasm she felt as though she would fall apart. And fall apart she did. It was euphoric, and her hands gripped his hair fiercely as she crashed over rocks in reckless pleasure.  

When he came back up to meet her he was breathless and lust-drunk, giddy as a school-boy and stoked as a bonfire.  “There has never been a sweeter taste than you, my love.” He kissed her then, languidly, passionately - intent on sharing the riches of his exploration. Tav could taste herself in his kiss. They may as well have been sharing wine between their lips. 

“If you don’t fuck me soon, Gale, I swear I will combust.”

He laughed at this. At the desperation, at the slight annoyance in her voice, at the fact this was the first time she had ever said his given name and she had thrown it at him as a demand to push her against the tree and bury himself inside her. What a woman. 

He needed no further invitation; shedding the confines of his breeches, he pressed himself slowly into her warmth, and she made the most delicious groaning sound he had ever heard. This woman could drive him to madness, and thankfully he was aware that his earlier attentions ensured he need not be overly gentle. Knowing that his endurance would be short-lived, thanks to the fervour he had stoked within himself while bringing her to climax against his tongue, he abandoned all pretense of restraint. Together they were primal, the tension that had been building between them releasing in pure, carnal desire.  

Though a gentleman might have exercised more self-control, such decorum was a luxury he couldn't afford in the presence of such irresistible temptation. Stripped of his clothes, he found himself as vulnerable to the unrelenting heat of the day as Tav, and soon, his focused, determined passion ignited a sheen of sweat upon his skin.

Tav’s payback could not have been any sweeter, as soon as she noticed the sweat trickling down his neck she took her chance and licked it from his bronzed, silken skin. His response was a delicious, low moan and his rhythm faltered into something more urgent, unbound. His grip tightening, one of his hands found its way to rest gently against her throat so he could feel the deep moans rumbling against his palm as he fucked her.

“I love you” She breathed. And that’s all it takes. He is suddenly hurtling over a precipice and into sweet, tight oblivion. 

They both collapse onto the ground, sweaty, burnt-out, euphoric. And they fall into uninhibited laughter as they realise they can hear the band playing a jaunty tune in the distance, and the chatter of the ever-growing crowd is closer than they initially thought.

“You are still hidden from prying eyes, my dream.” Gale offered reassurance as he kissed her head. “And I will conjure up some suitable clothing for you, don’t worry.”

“That is most generous of you Saer, but please - by the Gods, no corset and no silk.”

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 smut #gale dekarios #gale fanfic #gale x tav #gale of waterdeep

[frenchkisstheabyss]

♥︎ The Way I Am ♥︎

♥︎ Pairing ♥︎ fiance!seonghwa x gn!makeup artist!reader

♥︎ Genre ♥︎ fluff/angst

♥︎ Summary ♥︎ Your fiance's been successfully keeping his love of makeup hidden from you. That is until you come home early from a trip and find him using your things. Your reaction is (of course ♥︎) the exact opposite of what he feared.

♥︎ Word Count ♥︎ 1.6kish

♥︎ Warnings ♥︎ Hwa does express his worries about being vulnerable with his identity so if that's sensitive to you that's super important to note. Other than that, nothing. Just fluff and reassurance ♥︎

♥︎ A/N ♥︎ I hope that if you're reading this and you feel nervous about expressing your gender identity out of fear that people won't accept you, you know that you're totally worthy of love and acceptance no matter what. Love you ♥︎

"'Cause I love you more than I could ever promise and you take me the way I am" - Ingrid Michaelson (The Way I Am)

Seonghwa hopes that you don’t notice. A few drops of foundation here. A swipe or two of eyeliner there. Maybe some lipstick or blush if he’s feeling adventurous. He wishes he had the courage to ask you to do this for him. You’re the most talented makeup artist he’s ever met. Watching you work is like art. How wonderful it’d be to bare the most vulnerable part of himself to you. To be your lover and your canvas. But every time he tries to open up the fear creeps in and the words won’t come out.

So this is the way it is—the way it’ll always have to be. Your wedding’s less than a month away and the thought that he might lose you makes his soul ache. He can’t risk losing you. He won’t risk losing you. 

Tonight he’s raided your makeup supplies for everything necessary to create the soft, romantic look of his dreams. With the warm air of a summer night blowing through the bedroom window and Spotify’s best Taylor Swift mix blasting in his over-ear headphones, the vibe couldn't be more perfect.

He’s been like this for at least an hour, seated at your vanity trying to get his foundation to match. You have every shade imaginable but none are what he wants. And mixing them? Well—

“Fuck” Seonghwa huffs, staring at his reflection, frustration and two pale layers of foundation painted all over his face. He scans the meticulously organized desk for the makeup wipes and gets to work cleaning it off. It takes everything in him not to throw something but he manages to suppress his violent urges long enough to pick up a brush again.

Thank god he has all night to do this. You won’t be home from your trip until tomorrow afternoon. By then he’ll have put everything back in its place and you’ll never know a thing. At least that’s the way things were meant to go but the unexpected glimmer of your reflection lingering by the bedroom door destroys that in an instant.

You thought it’d be sweet to surprise Seonghwa by coming home early. The event you were hired for had been canceled and you always missed each other so much. You figured it only made sense to come back home. You even stopped at his favorite takeout spot on the way from the airport to pick up dinner.

No one’s ever come close to treating you with as much love and care as Seonghwa has. Everything he does makes you feel warm and fuzzy inside. Just glancing down at the sparkly ring on your finger is enough to make your face light up. Any chance you have to make him feel the same way isn’t one you’re willing to pass up.

But, for the first time since you met, his face doesn’t light up at the sight of you. It darkens as if the world has ended and you can’t help but feel like you’re the one who ended it. 

“Hwa—” you sigh softly, approaching the vanity where he sits nearly catatonic. Tears collect in the corner of his deep brown eyes, his fingers beginning to shake around the makeup brush. “It’s okay” you promise, gently resting a hand on his shoulder. Seonghwa pulls away from you, tearing the headphones off of his head. His dark hair hangs in his face giving him a safe place to hide from the disappointment he knows is waiting for him if he dares meet your gaze.

Only there isn’t any...

This isn’t what you expected to come home to but it’s far from a surprise for you. One of the things you always loved about Seonghwa was how comfortable he seemed to be in his own skin. While other guys saw every little thing as a threat to their masculinity, he treated femininity as something beautiful. You can’t even count the amount of times you’ve wanted to do his makeup. Those eyes. Those lips. That killer bone structure. He’s perfect for that kind of thing. You wish now more than ever that you’d said something.

“I’m really sorry. I didn’t—I’m just—I’m so sorry” he mumbles, choking back tears. You outstretch your arms to wrap him in a hug but he slips away again, rushing to the closet to grab his gym bag. “Hwa, what are you doing? Can you stop for a second? Please?” you beg, following him around the room as he blindly tosses things into the bag.

You’ve never felt more invisible. Your words fall on deaf ears and each time you reach out to touch him he recoils. Seonghwa grabs his phone from the dresser, snatching free of the grip you have on the sleeve of his shirt. This is his worst nightmare. In the blink of an eye he lost everything, he’s convinced of that. He doesn’t know what to say or what to do. All he can think to do is run. 

“You can’t do this!” you shout, trailing him down the hallway, “You have to talk to me!”

Seonghwa breathes in, beyond pissed off at the few tears that manage to escape. “I have to leave. I have to—to protect you.”

Hearing the pain in his voice, you nearly trip on your luggage to throw yourself in front of the door. “Is it to protect me? Or to protect yourself?”

That stops him in his tracks, his foot already halfway into a pair of sneakers. Who’s he running away for really? It’s a question that only makes the pounding in his head worse. He knows that you love him. You tell him every morning, even when you’re apart, how special he is to you. You’re begging him to stay but he can’t. He can’t. Why can’t he?

“Move please” he asks, his hand tight around the doorknob. 

You fold your arms across your chest, back pressed to the door, “No.” 

“Move…please” his voice is deeper this time, the request sounding more like a demand. 

Slipping your hands beneath the curtain of jade hair, you rest them on cheeks that burn hot enough to heat your palms. Your fingers are stained with tears and what makeup remains on his cheeks. “I love you so much” you whisper, refusing to let him get away this time, “I need you to look at me.”

You hold your breath in the silence that follows, exhaling only when his mascara smeared eyes meet yours. “I. Love. You. So. Much” you say but slower this time, putting emphasis on every word. Your heart breaks for him, for how terrified you can tell he’s been of this happening.

You raise one of your hands to show him the makeup covering it. “I don’t care about this, Hwa. I care about you.” The faint smile on your face speaks of comfort, a truly safe place for him to be if he wants it. His hand falls away from the doorknob as he lets the gym bag hit the floor with a thud.

“I would’ve told you before but I…” he pauses to summon the courage to go on, “I was afraid you wouldn’t want me anymore.” You let out a sigh of relief at the sensation of his arms easing around your waist. He holds you so tightly that you’d swear you were the one trying to run away. 

“Oh, my love. I wish you could meet yourself so you’d know how amazing you are” you sniffle, only now noticing the trickling of your own tears. “I want to be with you—all of you—whatever that looks like.”

Seonghwa uses his hands to wipe away your tears, leaving them tinted in the light makeup you threw on before your flight. “And see, we’re twins now” you giggle, desperate to lighten the mood. Seonghwa stares at you longingly, the light gradually reigniting behind his eyes. “I love you too” he smiles, his lips brushing yours, “So much.”

He kisses you in the most innocent way and it’s like your first kiss all over again. Packed with nerves and excitement that melt away the longer you linger here. It’ll take some time to fade—the fear of being vulnerable—but it will fade and you’ll be there for it all. 

“Will you help me fix it?” he asks, nervously fidgeting with the waist of your paints, “You don’t have to but I have a picture on my phone and—” You cover his mouth with your hand before he can say anything more, “Of course I’ll help you. Shower first though?” Seonghwa suddenly becomes hyper aware of the slight mess on his hands—in his hair—on both of your clothes. “I’d really like that.” 

Kissing him on the forehead, you push his hair back to get a good look at him, “We’re doing dreamy summer vibes? Something soft?” 

“How’d you know that?”

“I don’t know” you shrug, “Maybe I’m just that good. You were also going super hard on the Taylor Swift so I kinda assumed. Just blasting. I didn’t know it was that real for you.” 

“Shut up” he laughs, squeezing you so tight you can’t breathe. 

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry!” you giggle, trying to get away. But he won’t let you. Instead he lays his head on your shoulder, willing to tolerate being a total mess for a bit longer if it means holding you. The way that things have been...it doesn’t have to be like that now.

And it never will be again.

#ateez x reader #ateez x gn reader #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa x gn reader #ateez fluff #seonghwa fluff #ateez angst #seonghwa angst

[hoseoksluna]

WHITE | jjk

pairing: boyfriend!jungkook x wine!oc

genre: smut

word count: 8.1k

summary: craving white wine, your boyfriend would do anything for you—even let you dom him.

pinterest board: wine

warnings: alcohol consumption, wine!oc is dominant and she's enjoying it, plushie used in a sexual intercourse, dd/lg, jk is desperate and so horny, hand job, oral sex (m. + f. receiving), fingering, squirting, raw sex, the importance of sex being imperfect, use of sex toys — yes, plural, dirty talk, spanking, face riding

note: i'm genuinely sorry for this—SDFKJDSLFJDSLFJS. this is the last wine drabble <3 i loved writing about them again, ugh i missed my babies so much. would you, guys, also like me to write two drabbles about the steam series? i feel like it would only be fair like this. vote in the poll below, pwease. <3 hope you like this last installment.

Your boyfriend has an immense, insane amount of energy. 

You have partly yourself to blame. It’s Saturday night, summer at full blast and you felt it thrumming so deeply and intensely within your veins that you found yourself craving your most favored mood-lifter in the world. 

White wine. 

You’ve almost spent every weekend drinking myriads of different alcoholic beverages, but the white nectar is something you’ve quite neglected. Well, not so much as neglected, but forgotten about entirely. The last time you drank it, you and Jungkook were on far, far different terms. Fuck buddies with a degradation kink, skipping a party because you got horny again. You wonder if things would’ve turned out the same way if you hadn’t decided to spice up your getting ready time with that drink. Would it change the course of events that led him to confess his feelings for you? Would you have allowed yourself to fall for him, had he not made you drunk with his allure?

You only had to mention your thirst and Jungkook was quick to get up to his feet, take his keys, phone and wallet and he was out the door before you could say anything else. Your fond giggles vibrated across the room—so much that Bam lifted his head and jumped on your lap and so you spent the remaining time alone cuddling with the canine friend, catching up in your lovey-dovey dog language, kissing him all over until you dolled him up with red lipstick marks. 

He looked so good. Was happy about it, too, because when his Daddy came back, he was similarly quick to show him. 

And Jungkook, he laughed so hard that he clutched his own stomach, doubled over, his shoulders shaking. Then, he sat next to you on the couch, pulled you in for a hug as if he hadn’t seen you in years and very solemnly told you that it was his turn now. 

The words that tumbled out of you were so swift, without any kind of embrace of thought beforehand, that you didn’t have the time to consider the consequences they would come with until they dazzled you. Through and through, ridding you of your sense of sight. 

“You’ll get your kisses only if you show me that you bought the wine.” 

Jungkook’s eyes grew in size, darkened in nightly fashion. Twinkles flickering, dimly. The atmosphere, the dynamic and energy shifted, folding into something you haven’t yet experienced in such depth, calming your eyes until they blended back into normalcy. And you wouldn’t perceive it for what it truly was, had Jungkook not wordlessly left to fetch his bag from the convenience store, along with a corkscrew and two glasses, and had he not crouched in front of you. 

The view left you stunned. The blatantly obvious fact, too. 

The fact that, somehow, you were in control.

And it was so different from the last time due to a simple reason. Jungkook wasn’t the one who initiated it. Didn’t tell you to be in charge. Didn’t give you his control in words, in commands. No, it happened arbitrarily, on its own and Jungkook submitted to it. Submitted to you. Put down his control once he lowered his form between your knees, giving it to you this way, silently. 

A thing of utter beauty, filling you up with vibrancy, enthusiasm and… passion. 

He showed you his haul, unloading it onto your lap. Sparkling white wine in a golden bottle, dog treats, cheese and crackers and… Miffy. 

Miffy in a way you haven’t seen her before. 

Made into a sleeping position. Black eyes shut, round butt risen in the air, even rounder tail perked, body soft and drowsy. Bigger than the bunny resting alone on his bed in the other room. 

You purred, squeezing her hard before you hugged her to your chest, careful not to smear your makeup on her when you pushed her up to your neck. Looked at your quite small boyfriend with a ravening gaze as you said, “You got bunny a sister, how cute. Well done.” 

Your praise coaxed a noise out of Jungkook that you never heard before, one that stirred the eternally slumbering beast in you that had not once seen the night enveloping you. A concoction, most delicious and arousing, of a whimper and a hum. It settled within your core, teasing you there, making you want more. You told him, or the beast more like, to open the wine and he obeyed, right away. 

You watched him do it. Watched the flexing of his muscles, tense beneath the fabric of his tiger-print shirt. Watched him not spill a drop and then pour you a glass until it almost overflowed. He handed it to you, expecting you to take it from him, but you caught him off guard. 

“Taste it for me first.” 

His mouth fell agape. Remained parted when he immediately brought the glass to his lips and took a large sip. Your eyes followed the bobble of his throat as he swallowed and you gave him a big smile for it. A praise, too. 

“Good. Let me have a sip now, my hands are full.” 

In typical fashion, he drew close to you until your knees squeezed him in, legs wrapping around his torso. One hand wrapped around your hip, the other tipped the glass to your mouth and you looked at him and did not stop until you took a big gulp. 

“More.” 

He tipped it again. “Tastes good?” 

You nodded, liking the sweetness and the fizziness, but this time you didn’t swallow the nectar. Jungkook set the glass down, along with his haul, averting his gaze momentarily and you cupped his chin, bringing it back to you. Leaned in and, in a heated kiss, you spewed the wine out into his mouth. He gasped, pulling away, flushed cheeks a tiny bit full, lips pursed, one mouth end wet with a trickle flowing down. It would’ve been an adorable sight, had his eyes not narrowed, darkened further more and pierced you with such intensity that your clit gained a drum. 

Your finger felt for the top button of his shirt. “Swallow. Don’t be messy.” He did. Swore. Breathed hard. You undid the button, lifting your digit to wipe his chin clean, smearing it on his bottom lip until he opened for you. You plunged in. Let out a low sound of delight once he wrapped his puffy lips around it. 

And now here you are staring at each other, finger in mouth. His newly secured energy pulsating in him, seconds away from bursting, brutally. You can see it, vividly, and you prepare yourself for it—blaming partly yourself and, feignedly, the palatability of the white nectar for being the cause behind it. He’s waiting for the next move, countenance terribly solemn and stiff. His hands must be oh so itching to take over, but he sticks to the unspoken, patient and good. 

Taking out your finger gently, you undo the rest of his buttons, aware of the shudders zapping his body the more you reveal his smooth skin. Jungkook straightens for you, palms on your thighs, breathing heavily, a sound that brings out the strangest of oxymorons in you—simultaneous nervousness and confidence. Nervousness that you call the shots; confidence that the paintwork of his arousal is signed with your name. 

And it’s the latter that the beast plucks out, like a twig of flower off a tree. 

You push Jungkook back and slide into his lap, biting your lip at the contact of his hardness under the flimsy material of your ivory pajama shorts. His hands clasp around your small hips, but you pry them away, deeming that if you are in control, then it’s you who decides when he gets to touch you. His brows rise when you pin them down and at last he beams up at you, eyes lidded and drunk, despite the fact he merely had two sips of alcohol. Bunny’s sister rests askew in your joined laps, her head pointed towards your mound and it forces a certain idea into your muddy brain. 

One that Jungkook fleetingly interrupts. 

“You’re gonna take control of me?” 

Ooft, making it official. You hum your agreement, repositioning the plushie. Place her directly against his imprint and, pushing the soaked center of your shorts to the side, you sit down on her soft face. Begin to rock slowly. Jungkook’s breath hitches in his throat, fists clench on either side of him as well as his jaw, chin upturned. He’s holding himself back with all of his might and it is only now that you feel your wetness dripping onto the fur, now when the vibrancy of the faint pleasure spreads across your every nerve ending, now when you know that he’s struggling to keep his composure. There’s something so incredibly satisfying about it that you rock your hips harder, whimpering, hands gripping his shoulders. 

“Can you handle it?” you murmur, already knowing that he won’t be able to the moment you decide to take things further, but you give him a slither of a chance to prove you wrong, rooting for him from within with a sly smile on your face. 

Jungkook pokes his tongue in his cheek, sighing, eyes descending to your neck and to your perky, pebbled breasts under your low cut top. “I’ll handle anything you come up with as long as I get your kisses.” 

His sweet response gratifies you so much that you arch your back, lowering your hands down to his chest, the thrum on your clit becoming unbearable, the soft friction of the plushie doing very little to alleviate it. You whine, picking up your pace. “Even—even if you don’t get to touch me?” 

Jungkook hesitates, biting his lower lip. A certain sadness coasts his now big eyes that makes you coo endearingly and slow down, feel so bad for him. “Anything for you.” 

You can’t halt the groan from escaping, the groan that roots from the passion and the love you carry for him, from the principle of his submission. You’ll make it up to him. Play with him just for a little while and you’ll give him his rightful upper hand right back to him, all because he was so quick to be your little toy. Without a thought, nor a word spared. Without a struggle. He deserves it. Has come a long way. 

“You’re just my little slut, aren’t you?” You grab a hold of his throat, tip his chin up, feel his vein throbbing. “My pretty little slut. Hard for me, hm? Will do anything for me?” 

Widening his eyes, mouth parted, he moans, sucking in a breath, chest lifting rapidly. Hand automatically lifting to palm himself, just in time to realize that he can’t because the plushie and your lap is in the way. “Yes, I’m your little slut and I need you so bad. Need your kisses.” 

You hum, terribly, terribly satisfied. Horny. A fire, personified. Fire and energy—a wonderful mixture about to meet. “Where, baby?” 

His breath shakes, his being radiated by you, glistening in sweat. “Everywhere, please.” 

You drift your hands down his chest. Think he earned them now by asking so nicely. You sit back on his thighs, plushie in hand, ready to chuck her away, but then another idea comes up. 

Grabbing her by the back of her neck, you use her to kiss him. On his jaw, on his neck, on his left peck, nipple and the mole underneath, making kissing sounds. Jungkook shudders at the contact upon his most sensitive spots and you can see his disliking for it before he voices it out. You revel in it, his desperation becoming your obsession. 

“No, not from her. Please, from you.” 

But in spite of that, your craving to give him everything is stronger. 

You toss her on the couch, hands instantly clasping around his neck. You kiss him, wetly, on his Adam’s apple and he whimpers, urging you to continue. The sides of his throat, collarbones, shoulders—you mark him everywhere with your red lipstick, making a pathway down his sternum before you go sideways. Create a large shape of a heart on the left side of his peck, coloring it in with bruises, with kisses so hard that his manhood twitches in his pants. You’re so focused on adorning him, on the citrusy taste of his skin, that you don’t even sense your hands as they rid him of his shirt, unbuckle his belt and undo his button, dragging down his zipper. 

You rise to your feet, out of breath, puffy mouth, lipstick slightly smeared, head spinning. “Take off your pants and get on the couch.” 

The golden buckle of his belt catches your eye as he stands up. You wrap your hand around it and tug it out of his belt hoops harshly. There’s a hint of timidness in the vast sea of his arousal once he looks at you, aware of what you’re planning with the leather band. With a giggle, you merely wink at him and Jungkook blushes, dropping his gaze in tandem with his pants. 

“Boxers, too?” 

You edge around his side and envelop your arms around his middle, mouth pressing against his spine. A big, red mark of your lips amidst the broadness of his back. Utterly, utterly beautiful. “Smart boy, yes—off with them, now.” 

Jungkook laughs, softly, shyly. You wish you could see his blush deepen as the clenching of his abdomen divulges to you how much he liked that praise. You also wish you could feel the fluttering of the butterflies inside, if there are any at all. You’re getting to know him in such a new way that you otherwise would have never had the opportunity to do so. The shudders, the tension under his skin, the lively energy that is yearning to burst and rain upon you—it is all so awfully exhilarating, even more so the fact that you hold it all in your tender grasp. 

And he lets you. In the name of love. 

He drops his undergarment and he goes to sit down like you told him to, but you squeeze him harder against yourself. No, he’s not going anywhere. The heat, his soft skin, his gentleness and shyness—you want it all close to you, close enough to seep into your pores so it can make bed there and live there perpetually. So snug, so homely—yes, that’s precisely what it is. Home. 

You skim your hands down the defined muscles of his stomach, feeling them move under your fingers. Take his wrists behind his back and keep them there, unrestrained yet, his belt curled on the coffee table. You bring your hands back to his stomach, lowering them down—

“Can you reach me?” Jungkook asks, head turned to the side. You’re so used to degradation in your sex life that at first you thought he was mocking you, but on the contrary—he’s asking in all genuinity. With his forearms pressed to his sides, he’s bigger than he usually is and he wondered if your small form can stretch enough to touch him. 

How sweet. 

“Such a good, thoughtful boy.” You grab his length. Had to do it from the side a little bit, but you don’t mind. At least you get to see him. See the way he twists his features at the contact, see his energy and his muscles straining. “I guess I can, huh?” 

You tug at his length rapidly a few times. His body shudders again, almost doubles over before he straightens his spine, whimpers trickling out of his mouth and rooting in your heat, soaking your pajamas. And when his sounds rise in volume, you swiftly let go of him. Fetch the belt and fasten it around his wrists, leading him to take a seat on the couch. 

Manspreading, cock hard, red and long, almost kissing his belly button, hands behind his back, muscles big and flexed, face features darkened by his arousal, ravagedly fixed on you—fuck, you could come from the view. 

You sink to your knees in front of him. Itch so fucking hard to take him in your mouth and make that energy paint you in white, but watching him like this—you plan something else entirely. Pressing one kiss on his V-line, you glide your lips upon the tip of his length, making him tremble in desperation. It takes all of your strength not to give it to him, but you know he will be overjoyed with the little thought that’s swarming in your brain. 

“Where’s your fleshlight, baby?” 

Jungkook loosens a hard, flabbergasted breath and his pretty, pretty cock twitches against your mouth. 

You knew it. 

You bought the toy together yesterday. It’s still unopened in a box somewhere in his bedroom; you don’t know where he hid it. He may have not wanted to spend money on it, but when you witnessed the way his eyes glowed, you convinced him to get it. Begged him. Told him you wouldn’t leave the sex shop until he bought it and he gave in, timidly. Much to your delight.

“In the closet,” Jungkook croaks out, clearing his throat and you kiss his other V-line as a reward, kitten licking his tip for a millisecond as you rise to your feet. He whimpers, again in desperation.

“You can’t get it, can you?” you taunt, lovingly, fingers hooking under your shorts and dragging them down your hips, your top following over your head. His eyes follow your every movement, fixing on your feminine parts, muscles bulging, yearning to touch you. You grow wetter, being looked at, being desired like that. “You’re just a helpless baby.” 

He moans your name, signaling to you that there’s only so much he can take and you understand. You’re quick as you hurry to his bedroom, quick to find it, quick to pull the toy out of the box and quick to return to him. 

There’s a trickle of his male arousal gliding down his length when you stand between his legs and your own desperation to pleasure him heightens in you—so much that you’re equally quick to unfold your plan. 

You grab his chin and tip it up, harshly. Kiss him so nastily that he moans into your mouth and then… then you stare him dead in his eye. “I’m gonna put the fleshlight under bunny’s sister and you’re gonna show her how hard Daddy fucks his girls, yeah?” He’s left speechless, breathing rapidly, coated in sweat. Eyes narrowed, still darkened but now glowing with that familiar light that you saw yesterday, black irises piercing you through and through. “You should give her a name, though. Have something to moan when you fill her up, hm?” 

It’s evident, the way his brain malfunctions, but he surprises you. 

“Vinny.” 

Vinny and Bunny, how adorable. 

You coo, pecking him. “Vinny it is. Such a pretty name. I’m gonna make you nice and wet for her. Would you like that?” 

“Please.” 

You descend to your knees and you don’t hesitate to immediately take him into your mouth as far as you can. You gag around him, but you relax your throat, bobbing your head only slightly, testing yourself, wanting to stretch your throat out for him. Jungkook groans, squeaks little mewls as he doubles over once more, and the sound is so obscenely loud that your clit throbs harder in response and you would touch yourself if your craving to pleasure him wasn’t stronger. 

You pull out until you can stack both of your hands on his length and while your tongue plays with his tip, you twist your wrists. Only briefly, just to make him feel a little better before you lick him all over—just to stay true to your words. And when it’s your name that comes out of his mouth once you slobber all over him, you withdraw altogether. 

“Please… please,” Jungkook whimpers, trembling and you feel terribly bad for him. So much that you pucker your lips at him and kiss his cheek endearingly as soon as you get on your feet again, purposefully ignorant to the way your cunt likes his helplessness. 

“I got something better for you, Daddy, don’t worry,” you reassure him, slipping into the dynamic your familiarity using the title. You grab Vinny and the fleshlight, placing her on top of the toy, on the armrest of the couch—her butt and her pussy facing him. 

And when you glance at him to see his reaction to your artwork, you’re stunned by the look he gives you. Mad, mad stare. Awfully dark and menacing. It would disquiet you if didn’t know that he loved you. There’s no way you could take the liberty in toying with him like this, had you not become exclusive—had he not created a realm of safety for you to do that in. 

“I’m gonna fuck the shit out of you for this,” Jungkook threatens and the sliver of normalcy in the middle of the role-play that he caught onto makes you giddy and feel so fucking alive. The threat, too. You quiver in anticipation and excitement, grinning from ear to ear. “You’re not walking after this.” 

You laugh, softly, thrilled. “I sure hope so,” you say, grabbing a hold of his arm to lift him up. “I’m dripping for you.” 

Jungkook hisses. Won’t budge. Remains seated, looking up at you. Doesn’t reciprocate your smile. Scowls, instead. “Can I taste you?” 

You shake your head ‘no’, even if it emotionally pains you. “Not right now.” 

He sighs and you take his arm again. This time he obeys—lets you lead him into the position that you want. On his knees, still on the couch, perfectly at level with Vinny’s pussy patiently waiting for him. Jungkook looks at her for a long time, studying the silicone shape of her clit and lips. You’re certain that if his hands were free, his thumb would’ve traced her soft vulva.

“Do you like her pussy?” you ask, your grin only widening, eyes blazing, emitting hot sparkles of light. You’re perhaps more excited and enthusiastic about this than he is. 

Jungkook looks at her for a split second more before he flicks his intense gaze to yours. “Yours is prettier.” Your breath hitches in your throat and your heart follows its footsteps, skipping a beat, springing up and grazing your vocal cords. You can’t get a word out—you’re stupefied, in love, so impassioned that you resemble him with all that fire in you, taking after his energy buzzing in him. You sense the same movement in you, hotter, more vigorous. Your mouth parts and, cheeks awash with color, you’re on the verge of bursting. “Let me touch your little pussy, please.”  

You bite your lip, pause a tiny bit just to regain your composure and you sigh, eventually, gripping his face in your hand, squishing his cheeks. “I said,” you start, emphasizing your warning just to see his flush deepen like you wanted. “Not right now. Can’t you listen?” 

For a fleeting moment, there’s a heavy silence filled with his hard breaths. 

Then, Jungkook glares at you. 

“I’m gonna destroy you.” 

You chuckle, girlishly—even though his threat yet again thrums within your skin, even though your body craves to submit to him, throw the playtime away, forget about it, entirely. “Talk all you want. See where it gets you.” With your other hand, you take his length and line it up at Vinny’s entrance. “Fuck her.” 

Now—now he finally grins, a puckish smile that unnerves you a little bit, as if an idea crawled up into that smart brain of his. 

And he proves you right. 

“I’m gonna show her how I’m gonna fuck you,” he mutters, drawing closer to Vinny, to the arm rest. “Where’s the lube? Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten.” 

A trickle of cold sweat trickles down your spine and it’s you who’s left speechless now. You were so quick to return to him that you did forget the lube, mind void of rationality, filled with him that you forgot such an essential thing. You swear under your breath, feeling stupid. 

“Go get it before I rip this fucking belt apart and use it on you.” 

Wordlessly, embarrassed with your head down, you go back to his room and fish for his lube in his bedside drawer, noticing that it’s where he keeps the vibrator for you. You haven’t used it in so long in your playtime and you reminisce, briefly, on the last time he made you come with it. On this very bed, on his lap with bunny on yours as he rearranged your guts with the toy on your clit—teasing you by lifting it and placing it between the plushie’s legs, acting for her and screwing up his features in pleasure.

Your heart thuds at the memory, your thighs sodden with your essence, and a certain expectation creeps within its chambers. The expectation that the toy will make a comeback tonight. That is, if you even deserve it. 

You cringe at your wetness while your feet pad back to the living room. Jungkook stares you down, guilt written all over his face for being mean and it mollifies your negative feelings, dispersing them away from you. It’s enough for you—you don’t really want to talk about how you pitifully failed, nor do you want to hear a mention of it, but Jungkook seemingly does. 

Up close, his eyes are awfully soft as if he made a mistake with his last words. You don’t think he did—he’s always been the leader in your playtime, so you deem he only did the right thing. Besides, you’ve worked him up to the point of anger, so from your standpoint, he didn’t do anything wrong. You did. 

“Come here,” he says, gently, leaning in and angling his head. “Put your arms around me.” You do as he says, needing to, needing to be led for a little while before you can resume. You sink your fingers into his hair as you rest your forearms around his shoulders, even though all you want to do is rid him of his restraint and let him fuck it out of you. He kisses you with such tenderness that you whimper in sensitivity and amorousness, taking it one step further and moving your mouth against his, slipping your tongue inside. It’s a brief kiss, no matter its intensity, for he still has something to say. “You’re doing so well tonight. I never thought I’d ever get this hard from you being the boss of me. I’m sorry for snapping, you hear me?” he whispers against your lips, each movement causing his pillows to touch yours in faint, faint kisses that make your mind spin and your desire for him to lengthen across your whole body, deepening. You nod for him, hearing his words, needing them, too—glad for the honesty, for the check in, for the sliver of normalcy. “I’m just so horny and I need you. I didn’t mean it, okay? Daddy didn’t mean to talk to you like this. He loves you and you made him so needy that he’s frustrated, but it’s okay. He can handle it. Do you love your Daddy back, hm?”

You moan at the continuation of his words, running your fingers through his hair, inching closer to him until your chest softly collides with his. And his reassurement, the warm feeling of his skin, the potency of his love—it all erases your mistake, leaving only your sensual craving for him. You nod, again, like a little girl given a talking-to from her father, absorbing the lesson. “I love you.” 

Jungkook hums, pleased, pecking you. “Good. I’m gonna do what you want now, baby. Gonna make you proud, listen to every word like a good Daddy, hm? You can do anything you want to me. You’d like that? You wanna keep going?” 

You smile at him, sweetly, and he kisses your expression of contentment. It feels so good like this and you feel woozy, too. Sluggish, ready to be taken, on your way to cloud nine. You nod your head for the last time and squirt the lube all over him and Vinny’s intimate parts, your desire to take over him blending into your fuzzy feelings. 

With your help, he slides inside her, both pairs of eyes watching the slick intrusion, then meeting at once—your simultaneous groans of delight merging, fading into one another, creating one beautiful, heavenly sound, unheard by all angels and celestial beings. You hold the fleshlight steady as he bottoms out, his mouth parted, brows furrowed, eyes so heavy-lidded as he devours your gaze, your face, the pleasure he feels so overwhelming that you almost think he can’t take it. The flexing of his abdominal muscles, the roll of his hips that takes all of his strength while his arms remain restrained behind his back, his neck shiny with a layer of sweat—fuck, the sight is to die for and you melt into something boneless, jelly and gooey; becoming just a hole for him.

You can’t wait for him to fuck you. Perhaps it’s you, after all, who can’t take it. 

Jungkook begins to pound her, his mound hitting her clit with every hard motion and it strikes your awe. Your breathing quickens, the drum in your own bundle of nerves unwaveringly unbearable and what’s worse, he keeps fucking looking at you, perhaps imagining it’s your pussy that he’s ruining and your legs tremble, threatening to give out—

“Rub your pussy on the other end, please,” he begs, vocal cords so awfully strained, and this time you decide to gratify him. 

The first moan that your mouth emits makes him fuck the toy harder—so much that it slips out of your grasp. You prop your knee on the armrest, flattening Vinny’s face on the edge of the toy, so you can gain the friction you so desperately need and it works. Your cunt soaks her sleepy countenance and you flick your eyes to it, watching the fur get darker with each rock of your hips.

“Look at me,” he grunts—and you do. A hint of softness in the dark sea of his eyes, boisterous waves of arousal sloshing to and fro. “Use her like I am. Hard—” He shows you how by a stroke that reverberates through your body, stimulating your clit by bumping into it. “And then fast.” Quick thrusts that waggle with your form, your curls bouncing against your spine. 

And so you match his rhythm. It stimulates you far more than the pace you had going for yourself, your orgasm enclosing around you, inching closer and closer with each graze of your clit against the now more firm plush fur. Your brows knit, the coil in your stomach tightening to the point that it’s you who ultimately takes over and Jungkook follows, matching your rhythm, fucking Vinny faster—the silicone squeaking with each deep plunge of his length into her hole that causes your tits to slap against each other. But Jungkook doesn’t look at them. No, his eyes are set on you and you know that he knows that you’re about to come. 

Jungkook begins to pant, marked chest flushing, adorning him most finely. The knowledge is getting him there, too. “You close, baby?” 

You moan, sucking in a breath. “So close, I’m gonna come.” 

He moans with you, approving of it. “Come, then, I wanna watch you. Make her nice and wet for me, hm?” You rock your hips faster—closer and closer, gripping Vinny with all your might. “I wanna touch you so bad, princess. Kiss you everywhere. Lick that little clit. Fuck you until all that you know is my fucking name. Please—”

You come so hard that it takes both you and Jungkook by surprise, your body violently shuddering and colliding into his. He groans, deeply, following in suit, your orgasm triggering his and he sloppily fucks the toy while he watches you ride out your high, bliss enveloping you in angelic glow. 

“Yes, princess, just like that, fuck. You’re so pretty. My pretty little girl, coming so hard. Yes, fuck.” He’s losing himself, moaning your name over and over until there’s nothing left to give to Vinny, until he’s so spent that he sits back on his feet, eyes closing and opening, tongue licking his dry lips. He moans your name again, in post-high. “Please, get the belt—”

You don’t hesitate. With blurry vision and sex hormones swirling in your brain, numb by your intense orgasm, you edge around him and rid him of his restraint, flinging it somewhere away from the both of you, hating it, not wanting to see it again. 

You and Jungkook exchange a look full of soft smiles and love, with his joy like a cherry on top of that. He twists his wrists, standing up to his feet, the size difference and the sudden change in energy causing him to grow solemn. No smiles, though the love remains. You feel it thumping in the atmosphere you’re surrounded by as he completely overpowers you, naturally. And you welcome it, needing it—needing to be dominated and fucked until you’re brainless. 

“I love watching you come,” Jungkook murmurs, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear and cradling the side of your face. “It’s all I want to see for the rest of my life. Every morning when I wake up and every night before I go to sleep. It’s everything to me.” 

It moves through you, his words, almost painfully with their vigor and passion, passing down your body until they settle in your core. You drip for him. Still feel so terribly lightheaded and high. “Just that, huh?” 

“And your snores.” 

You punch his arm. Jungkook laughs and gathers your hair, pulling it away from your face, stroking it down your back. A grin of your own curls your mouth. You don’t snore, at all. And you tell him. 

“You do when you’re tired.” You gasp, lifting your hand again but he catches it in time, intertwining your fingers with his. “You did such a good job today. You learn well from me. Sounded just like me. Made me proud.” He strokes your hair again and you lean into his touch, even though you don’t believe him. You could’ve done a lot better and it could’ve ended just like you planned—fucking him with that fleshlight. You guess you can save that for another time. 

You shake your head. “I messed up.” 

“But you didn’t.” He angles his head, inching closer so the gravity of his words can pierce your mind, but it does no such thing. You still have one of your own. Solid as a rock. 

“No, I shouldn’t have forgotten the lube. It ruined everything.” 

Jungkook sighs, drawing back, fondling the back of your hand before he lets go of it and clutches the nape of your neck. “Sex isn’t meant to be perfect. You didn’t ruin anything, why do you think that?” He looks at you for a long time, but you can’t take it—you drop your gaze, still feeling terrible. He calls you by your name, firmly. “Who made you think sex is meant to be perfect, huh? Bring them to me.” 

You laugh, softly, at the ridiculousness of his question. It’s him who owns your virginity—you’ve never been with anyone else before him. It’s your own expectations that make you think that. “Right here.” You point to your brain. 

Jungkook kisses your forehead. Lingers there, giving you a million tiny pecks, as if erasing everything from there that he doesn’t like. It touches you, deeply, and you can’t stop yourself from submitting to it as it melts your brain. Your mouth rounds in a pout, your bottom lip jutting out and when he gazes down upon you and sees it, he coos at you, kissing it. “I made a mistake, too, didn’t I?” You remain silent—still think he didn’t do anything wrong. “But it was still amazing and we came together, didn’t we?” 

He’s right; you’ll give him that. “You really liked it?” 

He pecks you, vehemently, on the lips and then points to the fleshlight behind him in all its glory, dripping with cum. So much fucking cum that it makes a puddle on the hardwood floor. “Do you think I would’ve cummed this much if I didn’t? Tell me, baby.” 

You swear, unable to take your eyes off of the quantity of his male essence. It draws you in, magnetically, and you obey its call, lifting the fleshlight with your hands, turning around so Jungkook sees and darting out your tongue—

“Don’t.” 

You swipe the muscle across the silicone hole, collecting his ivory arousal. Most of it trickles down your neck and bare chest and it’s Jungkook now who swears, loudly. Grabs you by your waist and, flinging the toy away, he kisses you. You didn’t even have the time to swallow. He’s tasting himself on your tongue and it causes you to moan into his mouth. He taps the back of your thighs and you jump, wrapping your legs around his torso. You don’t know where he’s taking you, but at this point you give zero fucks. 

His tender bedding grazes your back when he lays you down on it with a harsh thud, breaking the kiss and taking your breath away. Bottom lip between his teeth, he studies your soiled body with his cum, kneeling on the bed by your form. He takes his first two fingers and collects his evidence of pleasure, flicking his eyes to yours. You meet him halfway, expecting him to plunge those digits in your mouth and you’re ecstatic, wanting it badly, but Jungkook pushes you down. 

In fact, he turns you around—ass up, face down. With just one hand. 

You swear, your arousal gaining new intensity. And it’s your needy hole that he plunges his fingers in, briefly stuffing you with his cum, placing his free hand on your lower back so you can arch your spine for him more. Then, he rubs your clit in hard, slow circles, making you cry out, making your legs tremble all over again—

A spank. A brassy, cacophonous spank that drives you forward, forcing you to grip onto the sheets. 

“I told you not to do that, didn’t I?” Jungkook rasps. Doesn’t alleviate the burn. “Answer me.” 

Fuck. “Yeah, you told me not to do that.” 

You brace yourself for another spank, but it doesn’t come. You feel his lips by your ear, his body heat cocooning you as he bends over you, his fists, pitifully, on either side of your back. 

“You’re such a filthy little girl. Licking my cum off like that? Making me hard all over again for you?” he tsks, the sound making you even needier. For him, for his cock, even for another spank. You grind your ass against his hip and he maneuvers so his cock slips between your cheeks. Swears, such guttural noise that you mewl in response. “You just do what you want, huh? I guess you don’t love your Daddy anymore.” 

He spanks you again, harder than before, and your vowel of disagreement breaks at the concoction of pain and pleasure coursing through your body. “No—no, I love you.” 

Another spank. Lips by your ear again, his body clinging to your side. “You love me?” He clamps your mouth shut, preventing you from answering. 

You do, anyways, your words muffled. “I love you. I love you so much.” 

Jungkook hums in question. “What did you say? I couldn’t hear you.” He digs his fingers harder into your cheek, other hand rounding around your hip and attacking you with bolts of pleasure that make you quiver against him—rubbing your clit rapidly before he sinks his fingers inside you… and merely keeps them there. 

You move his hand away and he lets you, holding it, panting. “I love you so much.” 

Jungkook groans, sinking his fingers deeper. “Who do you love, hm?” 

He wants you to say his rightful title and you do, with all your heart. “You, Daddy. I love you.” 

At your words, Jungkook begins to pump his fingers and you cry out, placing your head on his palm, taking it. “Such a good fucking girl, making me crazy—” He growls, pressing a fat kiss on your cheek, curling his fingers slowly into that place that causes your breath to hitch in your throat, your orgasm quick to catch up to you. “Good little girl that loves her Daddy, fuck. I’m gonna give you everything. Gonna eat that little pussy, hm? You want that? Want Daddy to make you come with his tongue?” 

You squeak when he gives you one particular, hard stroke against your special place, mind numbing, a dam broken. “Yes, yes, please, Daddy, please—”

He draws away, instantly. Traces your back with his palms as he straightens, smearing your feminine essence all over your skin that he licks up. And then, his mouth—

Jungkook takes you in his mouth. All of you. Licking against your clit, sucking it, rubbing his face in your cunt and groaning against her. His hands squeeze your ass, painting it redder and he flicks your little bundle of nerves with his tongue until he senses your orgasm. Then, he pulls away for a second, stalling it. Thumbs your other, puckered hole. 

“My pretty little pussy. All mine.”

Mewling, you shake your ass for him and he growls, cursing, spanking your cheek, taking the flesh in his hand and squeezing it. Again and again, until you feel yourself drip, until you feel him spread your legs wider and nudge himself between them, opening his mouth for it to trickle down upon his tongue. 

“Sit up. Ride my face.” 

You moan before you even obey, sitting down on his tongue and grinding your pussy on it. He rolls it against you, back and forth, following your rhythm. Slow and romantic, kissing your clit every once in a while, sucking it as you keep up your movement, inching dangerously close to your orgasm. He’s in absolute control of you, though. Of your pleasure and climax, stalling it before beckoning it forth again. You lose yourself in it, in the profound and all consuming delight toying with all your nerve endings, creating something within you that diffuses you with confidence and allure, that inclines you to ride him harder, whimper a little louder and knead your breast until you leave your handprint in your wake. 

He lets you do your thing, but as you saw earlier today, there’s only so much that he can take. 

Clasping your hips, he angles them until your hole is at level with his nimble tongue, guiding you to lean back and use his chest to hold yourself steady. And like his fingers, he fucks you with the muscle, curling it each time. The filthy noise of your slick and his saliva, his breaths and hums, your obscene moans and then his thumb rubbing your clit rapidly—it’s enough, with his evident permission, for you to come. 

And you come so hard that you sprinkle his face with your dew. 

He laughs in utter joy, humming—humming deeply and you’re so obsessed with that sound that you come again, shuddering violently and he spanks you, holds you by your waist, digging in his fingerprints, allowing you to ride out your high, to use him until you’re so boneless that you slump against him. 

Jungkook drags you down, though, slipping, instantly, his cock inside of you. And it’s wild, wild butterflies that you feel in your gut owing to it, then pain so acute that you whine. Enveloping his arms around you, tightly, with no way of escaping, his wet face is so tender that you coo at him amidst the rush of your colorful feelings. Wipe away your dew, giggling, kissing him loudly as his cock adjusts in you and the bite from overstimulation withers little by little.

“You can take it, I know you can,” Jungkook whispers, beaming up at you, iridescent. “You feel so good around me. So tight. I love being inside of you.” 

Slowly, he begins to move, causing your features to scrunch up. In discomfort at first, then in relish as your stiffened nipples rub against the hardness of his chest. 

“You’re my good little girl. You take everything I give you so well. So well.” Jungkook picks up his pace, gathering your hair in his fist. Doesn’t pull on it; merely holds it. You whimper, his words loosening the overbearing tightness of your walls. “I’m gonna take care of you. You’re just my little baby. Mine—” A hard thrust. Your eyes roll back. “My baby.” 

“Yes, I’m yours,” you croak out and Jungkook takes your face in his hands and pounds into you until all you see is stars. Pretty, pretty twinkling stars. 

Slapping skin, his grunts—you don’t even see your orgasm coming, coming over you so violently and yet in such an exhilarating way. Your dew forces him out, forces his chuckles out again and he brings you back to him, kissing you, plunging his cock back with ease. 

You’re so lightheaded that you feel like an angel, soaring in the sky. An angel that years for something more. And you tell him. “Jungkook, please, I want the vibrator.” 

He merely smiles at you, arm reaching over and pulling out the toy for you from his bedside table. Turning it on, you’re radiated by the light in his eyes and you whimper in impatience. Jungkook shushes you, like a baby, clicking on the intensity until he’s satisfied, placing it on your clit. 

And then he gets up. 

Pushes you against his closet, back against the wood, legs around his waist, vibrator on your clit and his hand clasped around your mouth, preventing your loud moans from escaping while letting you know how much he loves being in charge. Giving you hard strokes that secure him your soul on a silver platter before he fucks you so fast that you can’t see anything. Your surroundings are a blur while his face remains clear, painted in tortured pleasure for you as if he were holding himself back. 

“Come for me, Daddy,” you beg under his palm, your sound muffled, but it seems that Jungkook understands you. 

Pulling away, he turns you around and gets into position again. One hand around your mouth, the other holding the toy on your clit, his dick inside. He begins to play with you, not moving his hips at all, only the vibrator. Panting against the crook of your neck, he takes a second to merely breathe with you while you’re on the pathway to another mind blowing orgasm because he turns up the intensity. “How about you come for Daddy first, hm? I know you don’t need me to move when we do this. You can come just like this. So come.” 

And you do, embarrassingly, whining all over the place, twisting your hips to chase your pleasure, causing him to emit the same sounds—causing him to pound you so hard against his closet that he, too, comes in mere minutes. His fingers in your mouth, he’s loud and just as whiny as you, fucking you through his orgasm as you play with digits, sucking on them. 

He doesn’t pull away for a long time. Presses you against his chest and holds you like that, still connected. The vibrator buzzes on the floor, the air is stuffed, but you’re content, the happiest angel, held and stuffed, too. With cum and dick. Heaven on earth. 

Jungkook begins to kiss your neck, marking you there. Fondles your nipples, making you shudder and sigh, making you utter the three words that he deserves. 

“I love you, Ggukie.” 

Jungkook makes a sound that tears you apart. A whimper; the whiniest you ever heard him be. He pulls out of you, but stuffs you again with his fingers. Makes you squirt in record time, kissing you everywhere he can reach. Neck, shoulder, jaw, cheek and lips. 

You must be soaring again in the clouds because you can’t feel your body, especially not when Jungkook says, “I love you, my little squirter.” 

Your knees do give out, after all. Jungkook is quick to pick you up and cradle you in his arms. Wash you clean in the shower. Put on a movie for you while making you food, joining you as soon as he can. 

It’s love you feel—love most profound. And as you eat the food together and finish the wine with drenched Vinny on the other side of the couch, you fall asleep with that love thrumming in your heart. 

You’ll be his for the rest of your life. And he’ll be yours, too. 

© 2024 hoseoksluna, all rights reserved.

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#jungkook x oc #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook smut #bts smut #bts imagine #jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook #bts scenarios #jungkook scenarios #jungkook fluff #btscreatorscorner #kpop smut #jungkook one shot

[hoonieshoney]

hey bae!! love ur jealouschildhoodbff jay & sunghoon, could you do heeseung or jake version maybe? (of course, if you want to🤭) I LOVE YOUR WORKS SO MUCHH XX

Hello pretty baby! Of course I can, anything for you @sunghoonsgff ! Thank you for being here ❤️ hope you enjoy!

🐈‍⬛Jay Version🐈‍⬛ 🐧Sunghoon Version🐧

JealousChildhoodBFF!Heeseung who made it a tradition to buy you yellow flowers every time it rains because he hates when you pout at gloomy weather

JealousChildhoodBFF!Heeseung who has never missed your annual Friday night sleepovers that y’all have had since you were 8

JealousChildhoodBFF!Heeseung who makes you wear his number at all his sporting events, ya know for “good luck”

Y’all already know the drill on how this goes 😏

🚫MDNI🚫 🛑DARK CONTENT TALK🛑

JealousChildhoodBFF!Heeseung who’s always touching you. Whether it’s holding your hand, playing with your hair, rubbing your shoulders. His hands are always on your soft skin

JealousChildhoodBFF!Heeseung who likes to come up behind you and wrap his arms around your waist and make eye contact with the loser boys who think they have a chance 🥱

JealousChildhoodBFF!Heeseung who always clothes shop with you, because hello you need a guys opinion on how hot you look. Bonus: always comes into the dressing room with you because that’s normal, you’ve known him your whole life 😛

Let’s get darker 😈

JealousChildhoodBFF!Heeseung who is a gross pantie stealing creep! Waits until your asleep to sneak into your hamper to shove a pair in his mouth and another around his cock

JealousChildhoodBFF!Heeseung who likes to get you drunk because you’re affectionate and kiss him all over his face

JealousChildhoodBFF!Heeseung who safely gets you home when you’re drunk and tucks you into bed. But waits until you’re snoring to sneak behind you and slip his aching cock between your thighs and use them to jerk off

JealousChildhoodBFF!Heeseung who takes pictures of his cum on your thighs and panties for jacking off material. He’s a perv not a jerk! Will clean you up so you can sleep comfortably 😌

JealousChildhoodBFF!Heeseung who finds out you’re going on a date with a coworker and he uses his Bambi eyes and whiny voice to manipulate you to cancel because he needs to see you😵

JealousChildhoodBFF!Heeseung who is giddy when you cancel your date to spend time with him. Doesn’t like to see you pouty, so he tells you he’ll make it up to you 😏

JealousChildhoodBFF!Heeseung who has you on the couch with your legs spread wide and puffy clit in his mouth making you forget about oh what’s his name

JealousChildhoodBFF!Heeseung grabs you by the throat and tells you he’s still upset you agreed to go on a date when he’s so obviously in love with you 🫢

JealousChildhoodBFF!Heeseung who has his phone hidden on the coffee table recording you bouncing on his cock mumbling incoherent works

JealousChildhoodBFF!Heeseung who makes sure to leave lots of hickeys for your stupid coworker to see

JealousChildhoodBFF!Heeseung who sees your too cock drunk to realize he’s not wearing a condom, cums inside you so much it’s dripping down to your ankles

JealousChildhoodBFF!Heeseung who wakes you up the next morning with yellow flowers and lots of kisses, you’re his now 🤭

#honey answers #lee heesung x reader #lee heesung smut #enha smut #enhypen hard hours #heeseung smut #enhypen smut #sunghoonsgff

[katsukisbimbo]

Silver haze: Peach Ringz

- pairing: ryomen sukuna × reader, gojo satoru x reader, getou suguru × reader, (slight gojo × getou)

- synopsis: who knew letting your fuck buddy roll on your back would lead to sweet forehead kisses and naps

- wordcount: 2.7k

- warning: fem! reader, she/her pronouns, squirting, car sex, use of drugs, smoking, mentions of marijuana, oral, throatfucking, slight dubcon, unprotected sex, degradation, sub/dom themes, creampie, slight size kink, mention of panty sniffing, mention of panty tasting >.<

part one and two

- note: after 3 years of hiatus, i birth this. please enjoy. also for my weed smokers, try the strain peach ringz, it tastes like peaches!

Your eyes widened in fear, the voice startling you to the point where you felt as if your heart was going to jump out of your mouth. You scrambled to cover yourself, Sukuna watching in amusement as he did not move to even protect his decency.

“Why do you always have to fuck things up Yuji?” Sukuna sighs, palm slapping the top of Yuji’s head.

Yuji swats his hand away and grumbles under his breath before speaking. “If anything I’m saving our sweet soon-to-be manager from your corruption.” He points accusingly. “She’s so sweet and you’re taking advantage of her!”. His words echo through your mind, various thoughts rushing from the back of your head as you start to overthink. Has he been using you? What did you even expect from your little excursions with him?

“Hey, if anything, she’s using me.” Sukuna rolls his eyes, wrapping an arm around your waist to press you tight against his warm body. Yuji turns to face you now, eyes filled with concern and a hint of sympathy.

“Would you like me to take you home? My car’s just around the building. I bet you’re feeling a little cold right now.” His eyes soften. “I can turn on the seat warmer for you. I promise I’ll get you home safe.”

You slowly just nod your head, body and mind on autopilot as you slowly slip away from Sukuna’s grip and he lets you. Disappointment fills his entire being but he doesn’t let it show, but you’re too distraught to notice anyway.

Yuji takes you by the hand and quickly takes his sweater off to place around your shoulders, securing it before wrapping an arm around you and walking away from an irritated Sukuna, his cock now flaccid.

___

The car ride home was a blur, the event had left you feeling dismayed and a tad humiliated. It was your first day meeting Yuji and he had seen you in such a compromising position with his teammate, and in public as well! Thoughts of leaving the country and changing your name were heavy on your mind, but you knew it wasn’t the wisest decision especially when you have Suguru and Satoru to care for.

“Babe? You home?” a voice calls out.

Satoru probably, you think. You take your comforter and pull it over your head, dread filling each nerve of your body. This whole day has been a weird blur and all you’d like to do is sleep and pretend it never happened.

“Baby? What’s wrong?” Suguru asks, voice brimming with concern. He knew, they both knew, but they wanted to know what you would say. If you’d keep your little shenanigan up and lie to them once more.

“Please leave me alone.” You mumble, voice muffled by the thick comforter still covering your head. You feel comfortable and safe, but it is at that moment when Satoru decides he’s had enough and rips away your comfort and safety straight through your fingertips.

Before a yelp even leaves your throat, you’re being tackled by two oversized grown babies, each at your sides. Their limbs are long and wrapping around you, fingertips desperately but gently digging into whatever skin they can find. And their faces are close, so close you can smell the skin of their necks and cheeks, their pheromones causing you to sigh in delight.

“You both smell so good.” You sigh once more, eyes shut in absolute bliss as Satoru slowly starts mouthing at your neck, a trail of pecks with the occasional tongue darting out to taste you. But it was okay, Satoru always did weird things like this.

Suguru placed his large hand on top of your chest, palm cupping your breast, but even that was normal too. You three just had a close and affectionate relationship. There was nothing wrong with that. At least that’s what they both had told you.

“I know. You’re a weird little freak who likes to sniff me.” Suguru laughs, index finger tracing around your nipple and smirking when he sees your little bud stiffen up from a mere touch. Your breath hitches, maybe his finger just slipped.

“No, I’m not, I’m not Satoru.” You huff.

“Yeah, he’s worse. He likes to sniff your panties when you’re gone.”

“Are you fucking serious? Satoru!” A loud smack echoes through the room followed by obnoxious laughter and yelling.

“I was just sniffing it but HE was tasting it!”

“You both better be fucking with me!”

“Of course we are, we’re not crazy.”

They were.

___

A few days had gone by without seeing Sukuna, you decided that it would be better to turn down the position you were offered. In your opinion, Sukuna hadn’t done anything wrong, you’re a consenting adult and you liked it.

But it was just the embarrassment as well and his indifference to both of you getting caught in the act. You knew your relationship wasn’t serious, but you at least thought he would’ve cared a little more about your well-being and feelings.

You are human after all.

“Hey beautiful,” A familiar voice whispers in your ear. “Haven’t seen you in a while. Was that on purpose?”

You suppress the urge to roll your eyes to the back of your skull. Of course, it was on purpose and he knew that. He wasn’t stupid. “Take a guess.” You grumble, not even sparing him a glance as you speed up a little. His large hand grabs your forearm and spins you to face him, pulling you against his body, an odd habit of his.

“Can we at least talk? Maybe sit down in my car so we can have a private space? I’ll drive us somewhere quiet. I just wanna apologize.” You look at him with a raised brow and he sighs, raking his free hand through his unruly pink hair. “Jus’ hear me out, princess.”

___

You watch him as he rolls a spliff on his lap, his little weed bag containing jars of weed, a grinder, papers, and a pen. You weren’t sure what the pen was for. Maybe for emergencies.

“Do you have to smoke every time we sit in your car?” You grimace as he lights it, the pungent smell hitting you quickly. He smirks a little and wraps his pink lips around the filter, taking a long drag before turning and blowing it towards your face.

“Yeah, I do. What else am I gonna do? Not smoke?” He raises a brow. You roll your eyes. He offers you a toke and you gladly take it, needing to expel the irritation and stress coursing through your veins.

“I’m really sorry pretty girl, I am.” He starts and looks down at your lap, unable to meet your eyes as you take a few more hits. “I was a dick. I still am. I should’ve covered you up n shit.” He sighs. “Yuji ripped me a new one after he dropped you off. I feel really bad ‘nd I jus’ wanted to say I’m sorry baby.”

The weed in your system causes you to just lightly nod your head, eyes nearly fluttering shut as the familiar feeling of being high rolls through your body in what feels like waves. Your eyes shut and you feel the spliff being taken from your fingertips.

“Say something, princess.”

“S’fine. Don’t worry ‘bout it. Just have some respect for me, that’s all.” You whisper lightly.

“I promise I’ll respect you so good baby.” He grins, handing you the spliff to take the last few tokes. “So…” He starts. “We’re good now right?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“Can you suck my dick?”

“…Yeah.”

He quickly discards the roach, a giddy smile on his face as he hastily unzips his pants, not even taking the time to lower them and only pulling his stiff cock out, giving it a few strokes. You watch, entranced by the way his precum pools at the tip.

You can’t help the way your thighs squeeze and your mouth fills up with saliva. “Taste it, baby, I wanna see your slutty lips around my tip.” He speaks huskily while stroking the base of his fat cock.

You find yourself leaning over, seatbelt off in a flash and his cock in your mouth, tongue licking up his leaking cock. Sukuna throws his head back in bliss, a shaky sigh escaping his lips. All he can think about is fucking your slutty mouth ‘til you’re choking down his cum. He can’t decide if he wants to cum down your throat or cum all over your pretty face.

“Yeah, you like that? You like the way my cock tastes? Throat that shit baby, I wanna feel your throat squeeze my cock.” You feel his large hand on top of your head pushing you down, and you let him. You like it, you hate to admit it but you like the way he treats you. It feels so lewd and so wrong but it makes your pussy wet anyway.

“Fuck my dicks already numb baby. I need another fucking spliff.” He mumbles before reaching for his little bag once more. “Keep sucking my dick baby. I’m jus' gonna roll on your back so don’t go too crazy yeah?” You garble out a response, throat tightening around his cock.

You continue to slobber and lick at his cock, careful to not move your back too much as you feel his jars lined up on your spine, his grinder and tray placed carefully on the left side of your back. “You’re so fucking good for me baby, my dirty little slut sucking my cock. Fuck. You look so fucking good.” He groans, licking the paper and smoothening the sides to make the perfect cone. He then uses the pen to lightly push the contents inside, making sure to not stuff it too much.

“Almost done baby. Lemme get all this off of you and I’ll face fuck you.” You moan in response, feeling yourself relax a tad when you feel the pressure taken off of your back. He lights his spliff and you take that as a moment to catch your breath, pulling off his spit-soaked cock.

He whips his head and glares at you. He wants to be mad, but seeing your face streaming with tears, covered in precum and spit. He feels like he wants to give you a baby right then and there.

“Did I say you can stop sucking? You’re my sex slave. You do whatever the fuck I tell you to. So fucking do what I say or else I won’t fuck you.” He growls, his heavy hand smacking your ass swiftly and pushing your head back down on his throbbing dick.

“Show me you’re sorry baby. I wanna see how fucking sorry you are.” You nod tearfully. Your hand cups his balls, squeezing and playing with them in your palms. “Oh fuck.” He moans, head thrown back with his spliff held between his lips.

You relax your throat and swallow his entire cock, your face pressed tight against his pelvis. His fingers dig into your scalp, loud moans leaving his lips. “Shit. Fuck. Stay down there. Keep it down your throat baby.” You start gagging, your untrained throat failing you. “Imma cum baby, imma give your throat a fat fucking load ‘cuz you deserve it.” He moans, shallowly fucking his cock down your throat.

You feel his entire body go stiff, a loud moan breaking the short silence. You feel his cock twitching down as well as his cum going straight down your throat, his cock lodged so deep inside that swallowing was unnecessary.

He wasn’t lying, he did have a big load. You pull your head back, coughing and spitting out his large load. Your chest heaves as you catch your breath. Everything feels wet and sticky. Your saliva had dripped down your chin and soaked your shirt. You’ve soaked through your panties and you can feel your thighs sticking to the leather of the seat as you sit back down.

“Tissue?” You croak out, looking at him as his chest heaves. His eyes snap open. “No.” He states bluntly. “What do you mean no? Look at me! I’m so messy!” You complain, feeling the remnants of his cum drying on your skin.

“Get in the back. I’m gonna fuck you.”

“Can I at least clean—“

“Get in the fucking back.”

___

“Suguru, she’s not answering her phone.” Gojo whines. He was a petulant child indeed. Getou sighs, irritation building. He knows where you are and who you’re with. He’s just not sure what to do about it. He wants you. Both of them do.

Sure, Gojo’s a bit more straightforward and spoiled, always expecting everyone to bend to his will. But Getou knew that if you made your choice, there would be no changing your mind.

“Hello? Suguru? Are you ignoring me?” Gojo whines once more, stomping his foot like once again, a petulant child. Getou sighs in annoyance.

“Stop acting like a kid. You know where she is, and you know what she’s doing.” He pauses. “What do you wanna do about it?”

Gojo smirks.

“I have an idea, I’m just not sure you’re up for it.”

___

The world's spinning. At this point, you’re ready to leave the earth. Your body’s gone numb and you’re struggling to breathe once more as Sukuna tightens his grip on your throat.

You’re laying on your back in the backseat of his car, legs hooked over his shoulders as he fucks into you, slow but rough. His cock batters against your cervix causing your toes to curl in both pain and pleasure.

“You’re so fucking creamy holy shit. I’m gonna have to detail my car after this.” He laughs lightly. “Every time I squeeze your throat your pussy gets tighter.” He moans, fucking into you harder.

“I wanna see you squirt on my dick baby. You think you can?”

“M-Maybe, I’ve never squirted before.” You squeal when his thumb slides down your entire abdomen and presses against your clit, the rough pads of his fingers expertly playing with your sensitive parts. He watches your facial expressions attentively, figuring out what feels good and what doesn’t.

He craves to have you lose yourself on his cock. He wants you completely dick-drunk and bending to his will. He knows you can. You’ve been so good for him, it feels as if you could be the one for him.

“Sukuna!” You moan. You feel the pressure building in your abdomen. Your pussy grips his cock tighter and you feel as if you’re about to cum, eyes rolling back into their sockets. “‘M g’nna squirt!” You mumble, too far gone in your pleasure.

“Yeah? Squirt baby. I wanna feel you soak my cock. Squirt for me and only me.” He groans, his fingers digging into the plush of your thighs as he feels your cunt squeeze around him. He doesn’t know how much longer until he loses himself. But he knows he wants you to cum first.

The pressure in your abdomen snaps and a string of whines and moans fall from your lips. Your whole body trembles as you squirt, soaking your entire bottom half as well as Sukuna’s. But he’s not satisfied. He wants much more. He continues to bully your clit with his thumb, synchronizing each thrust with a roll of your bud.

“S’kuna! I can’t! Too sensitive!” You squeal, hands gripping his forearm tightly but he doesn’t let up. He knows what he wants and he’s gonna have it.

“I’m gonna fill this fucking pussy up. I don’t give a fuck about your two bodyguards.”

“Wait! Don’t!”

“I don’t care.” He smacks your hands away. He grips your wrists in his large hand and pins them above your head, his other hand occupied.

“I’m cumming baby~” He moans, thrusting his dick as deep as his can, grinding his tip against your bruised cervix as his cum paints your walls white.

You’re both left trembling and heaving, his cock still twitching and emptying itself inside your cunt. You wonder if you’ll be able to experience this type of sex with anyone else. Or if you’ll think about the way Sukuna makes you feel your entire life.

“Wanna go back to my place and nap? We can pick up some Wingstop.” He gives you a toothy grin before kissing your forehead. You can’t do anything but nod tiredly, throat still sore from Sukuna’s abuse.

But you wonder, was it normal for fuck buddies to kiss each other's foreheads so gently?

© katsukisbimbo 2024 — all rights reserved. please refrain from modifying, translating, reposting of any kind. plagiarism will NOT be tolerated. please be kind and enjoy

#fem reader #she/her pronouns #afab reader #sukuna x reader #sukuna x y/n #ryomen sukuna #sukuna smut #ryomen sukuna smut #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x y/n #jujutsu kaisen smut #gojo x reader #getou x reader #tw drugs #tw dubcon #tw marijuana #tw degradation

[aaagustd]

room for two | jjk: prologue

a series from the "Misfit Parent Collection"

⌞banner and dividers by @itaeewon

title: room for two

pairing: heir/retired boxer!jeon jungkook x single mother!reader

genre/rating: angst, slow burn, eventual smut, strangers to lovers, ceo!jungkook, divorced!reader, aged up characters (in their mid thirties), surrogacy/pregnancy au; 18+

summary: As you signed the contract, you thought all your problems were solved—and so did he. However, no one can predict what life will throw your way. 

Despite your prejudices, this journey will reveal that the bond you share goes deeper than your womb.

wc: 1.7k

warnings: alcohol consumption, mentions a sh*tty parent, character death, borderline inappropriate workplace relationships but nothing has exactly happened, swearing, mentions boxing & knockouts, people either like jungkook or they hate him, let me know if i missed anything 

release date: april 26th, 2024; 10:50pm est

note: the prologue is here !! i hope you all are ready for this ride. it's been a two year journey for me and i'm so happy you all get to join me. we have a lot to cover and so many people to meet. i hope you're ready !!

series masterlist | main masterlist | inbox | join the taglist? | read on ao3

One year ago.

The doors open to reveal the setting sun on the horizon. Shades of orange and red paint the sky as the faint presence of stars patiently awaits the giant orb's departure. 

Jungkook steps out into the crisp evening air without regard for the gusts that violently displace his perfectly styled bangs. 

His urgent steps have nothing to do with the conditions. After a long and exhausting day, he tends to enjoy a nippy pre-spring breeze. 

When he approaches the exit, his energy is almost completely drained. The first step he takes out of the building is like an instant charge, and the wind hitting his face is like a slap that brings him back to reality.

If that isn't enough to wake up his brain, the sharpness of his security personnel's tone will surely have him alert. 

Two men of large stature guide him to his Porsche. He can only imagine the twinkle in his eyes when they land on his baby—resting idly while she waits for him to claim his rightful seat behind the wheel.

Jungkook nearly bypasses his guards as he takes excited strides toward his vehicle. However, a muscular bicep forms a barricade directly in front of the young CEO, reminding him of the dangers of wandering ahead of them in public. 

Only authorized staff are allowed on the premises. Still, even a company as large as Sport's 5 cannot dictate who stands on a public sidewalk. Fortunately, most of the people who choose to spend their time out here are harmless. However, he still understands the importance of safety.

Some people are so desperate they'd do anything to get a picture with the Big 5—a panel Jungkook used to sit on before being offered an executive position. 

Sport's 5 comprises five individuals who have had exceptional professional sports careers. These are mainly retired sportsmen and women who still love the game.

Jungkook was offered a seat at the table before he could properly hang up his gloves. Everyone wanted to know his story, his input and opinions, and his firsthand account of the KO he delivered right to Joey "The Rhino" Reese.

Although it was the best highlight of his career, he's never publicly spoken on that night out of respect for the legend and his family. It'd be pointless to keep retelling the events when they're online for everyone to see. 

Despite keeping his mouth shut about the fall of an icon, he still receives his share of hate from the boxer's diehard fans.

"Coward!"

He hears a man shouting insults from across the street, but most of his words are inaudible due to the distance. It can't be anything good because a family walking by promptly covers their child's ears every time the man opens his mouth.

Like on any other occasion, Jungkook shrugs off the spew of hate and gets into his car, wishing security a safe night. The engine roars as he pushes start. The sound of purring grasps one of the men's attention, and he turns around with a point, a silent compliment that Jungkook accepts with a nod as he speeds away.

With only headlights in his rearview mirror, Jungkook zooms through the city—wondering where his journey will take him. After the day he's had, home seems like a great option, but he isn't in the mood to spend a weeknight surrounded by silence in a large penthouse.

So, he drives downtown, aiming for any bar without a crowd. That shouldn't be too hard. Most people have work tomorrow, and they aren't in the mood for a party, and neither is he. 

A distraction is all he needs to ease his restless mind.

He reaches the heart of the city and parks near the curb. Heads turn as he exits his vehicle, wondering who he could be. With his shades on and natural hair color, it's hard for people to recognize his identity these days. 

Still, everyone is captivated by the car he steps out of. They could care less about his appearance. The real attention grabbers are the wealth that oozes from his body and his Porsche. Without money, he's just another guy.

Jungkook adjusts his suit as he scopes out the area. He notices the establishment across from him has upbeat music blasting through the speakers. Judging by the people lined up, waiting to get in—it's more of a nightclub than a lounge.

He sighs as he eliminates one place after another, eventually deciding to walk the strip and see what it offers. 

He nearly misses it as he strolls aimlessly, but tucked in the corner—dark and rustic—is just what he's been searching for.

Somewhere laid back and secluded; just somewhere you go for a drink and maybe a few rounds of pool.

He can count the number of occupants in there on one hand, so before anyone can figure out who he is, he steps inside and removes his glasses. He scans the room and acknowledges those who randomly lock eyes with him.

Jungkook can't help but admire the way this place is set up. The outside doesn't do it any justice; he can't even remember the name on the sign. He'll have to check on his way out; tell some of his colleagues to visit so it can gain some more customers.

He'll have to look into that another time, though. He wants to spend only a little time here, so he makes his way to the bar. 

Two women stand on each side; one is at the register printing someone's bill, and the other is already waiting for him to order.

The greeting he receives is warm and sincere. One you will only find in a few places. He offers a smile, the best he can give, at least.

"Hey. Just a Jack & Coke for me," he replies.

With a slight nod, the bartender begins preparing his drink. 

While Jungkook waits, he starts going through his phone, checking texts he missed while he was up to his neck in paperwork.

Most of them are from associates, his trainer, and…

His assistant?

The number isn't saved because he hasn't used it, but he sees the name in a previous message—letting him know he's speaking with the woman he hired four months ago.

6:54 pm (###) ###-####: Hi! I think I dropped my earring in your car when we grabbed lunch today. Can you check?

He doesn't have to.

Jungkook saw when the earring "fell" between the center console and the passenger seat. It happened right after its owner dropped it there. 

He can't help but laugh at the whole thing. Had he remembered, he would have said something immediately, but he has to admit that the low-cut blouse was a great choice. He can't count how many red lights he almost ran, sneaking glances.

Usually, he has no problem keeping things professional, but with all the flirting and teasing over the last few weeks, the temptation is becoming a bit unbearable. 

Maybe he should take a detour on the way home and return the "lost" item.

7:49 pm Him: I'll look in a few

After he sends the message, his drink is placed before him, and he abandons his phone without hesitation.

"Tab or no?"

"No, love. That's it for me.."

He places a twenty-dollar bill on the bar and pushes it toward the woman behind the counter.

"Keep what's left," he insists.

She takes the cash and walks to the register, leaving him alone to sip his liquor and bob his head to some classic rock.

As soon as the glass touches his lip, he takes a large sip, and regret washes over his entire body.

"What the—"

"Don't drink that," the other bartender whispers sharply.

She rushes over and takes the glass from his hand, instantly replacing it with a new one.

"She's trying, but…"

Jungkook understands entirely. She's still learning. Everyone's been there, even him.

"Don't worry about it," he insists. "Let me grab my wallet—"

She declines.

"It's on me, sweetheart."

Before he can argue, she walks away and disappears with the horrible drink her coworker made.

Despite the little hiccup, Jungkook is glad he found this little gem. It seems like a nice place for a good time, but also somewhere to unwind. There's a bar, a dance floor, a billiards table—and whoever is in charge of the music has great taste.

He'll definitely be back, maybe even tomorrow.

The next sip he takes does exactly what it's supposed to do. "Goddamn it."

The liquor makes his mouth and throat tingle as it travels into his body. He can feel his body relaxing already. Now, all he needs is a shower and—

His phone buzzes in his pocket, snapping him out of his thoughts. 

Once again, the number is unknown. 

Jungkook intends to ignore it, but his thumb accidentally presses accept. He stares at the screen in disbelief as he hears the faint sound of someone's voice on the other end of the call.

Slowly, he brings it to his ear and acknowledges the caller.

"Hello?"

"Hi, son."

Great, this is just what he needs right now. A call from his father, someone who basically disowned him for chasing the same dream that led to his wealth and success. 

"Yeah, I'm kind of busy. Can I call you back?"

He lies so he can end the call. There isn't a drink here that can give him enough strength to put up with this man. He can't deal with this tonight, and he won't.

"Hold on!" he shouts through the phone, making Jungkook release a defeated sigh. 

He's entirely prepared to hang up in his father's face if he has to, but he'll entertain him for a few more seconds.

"Look, I don't know who pumped your balls up so large that you have the audacity to call me, but—"

"It's your grandfather, Jungkook."

There's a pause.

There is a long, dreadful pause. It's as if Jungkook already knows what he's about to say, and unfortunately, his instinct is right.

"He's dead."

#jungkook x reader #jungkook fanfic #jungkook smut #bts x reader #bts fanfic #bts smut #bts fics #jungkook fics #jungkook imagines #bts imagines #jeon jungkook smut #jeon jungkook fanfic #aaagustd.fics

[campingwiththecharmings]

Honey Trap

AN: Fifth fic for @moonknight-events’ MK Bingo! This is probably a little silly (and likely not very well-written) but it was fun to come up with and write so irdc lol 😌 Hope someone other than me enjoys this!

You stumble across Marc while he's camping in a remote part of the woods and he's (understandably) suspicious of you.

(Un-beta’d)

Rated: M+ (this is smut so, you've been warned) Prompt: Hiking Words: 2,427 Pairing: Marc Spector x F!Reader Warnings: references to death, attempted murder, knives, frottage, please let me know if i missed anything. AO3

——————

Marc doesn’t trust you. 

Your story about wandering off trail and getting lost was plausible, sure, and you looked harmless enough, but he'd been around long enough to know that looks can be deceiving. 

Still, what was he to do? If you really were telling him the truth, you needed help. He couldn’t just let you wander around alone in the dark. What if something happened? What if you got injured, or worse, killed? No, better to assume the risk, to give you the benefit of the doubt. Plus, it certainly made it easier to keep an eye on you. You’d been so grateful, thanking him profusely and promising not to be a bother. He’d waved this off of course, trying to ignore the way his stomach flipped when you smiled at him. 

It’s late now, the moon full and high in the dark night sky. You’re sitting on the other side of the fire (his fire), your jacket zipped to your chin, arms wrapped around your legs as you try to get as close to the flames as you can without burning yourself. He tries not to keep looking at you, at the way the firelight makes you glow, but every time he looks away, his eyes inevitably drift back. There’s something about you, he’s not sure what but, it makes him feel…uneasy. Everything about you seems normal but he just can’t shake the feeling that he’s missing something. His stomach rumbles at this thought and he briefly considers that he might just be hungry. With a sigh, Marc digs into his bag, searching for the rations he’d packed. His eyes meet yours over the fire as he pulls a packet of jerky out and shakes it.  

“Want some?” he asks, holding it out to you. 

You hesitate, eyes dipping to study the nondescript packet in his hand. He swallows thickly as you unconsciously lick your lips. 

“Thanks,” you say finally, smiling as you take the food from him. 

He nods, pulling out another and tearing it open. Marc’s eyes scan the surrounding darkness as the two of you eat, the slight crinkling of the ration packaging replacing the silence. 

“So,” you begin, studying the strip of jerky between your fingers. “You come here often?” 

His lips quirk slightly at the joke but he just shrugs. “Not really, no.” 

You hum, carefully chewing a bite of jerky. “Could’ve fooled me.” 

He meets your gaze, unease settling in his gut. “How do you mean?” 

It’s your turn to shrug now, pulling another strip from your packet “You just seem very…prepared is all.” 

He sniffs in amusement, relaxing slightly. “Yeah well, people do tend to be at least slightly prepared when they plan on camping in the woods.” 

You scoff, swallowing your mouthful of food. “I wasn’t planning on camping though.” 

“Maybe not,” he agrees, taking a sip from his water bottle. “But you clearly had no idea what you were getting yourself into by coming all the way out here. Seriously, who hikes without a map?” 

You snort, shaking your head at yourself. “Valid point. Obviously, I’m an incompetent buffoon.” 

Marc bites back a smile, pulling another piece of jerky from the packet. “Well at least you’re aware of it.” 

“I’m so aware of it,” you laugh, putting your head in your hands.  

He hums, his eyes drifting to you again across the fire, watching as you (presumably) mentally berate yourself for getting into this situation. What would’ve happened had you not run into him? If you had run into someone else? With no supplies, would you even have survived the night? A wave of sympathy washes over him, and he frowns at himself for going soft on you so quickly. 

“What brought you out here, anyway? If you don’t mind me asking.” 

You look up from your hands, eyes tired but bright as you smile somewhat fondly. “My brother.” 

Marc raises an eyebrow. “Your brother?” 

You nod, reaching for your pack. You unzip it and pull out an understated urn. His stomach sinks. 

“Oh,” he croaks, his throat going suddenly dry. “I’m…sorry for your loss.” 

“Thanks,” you whisper, turning your attention to the urn in your hands. “He would’ve liked you, I think. Calling me out for being unprepared and all that. He was always looking out for me.” 

Marc grunts, uncomfortable now at the turn the conversation has taken given what had happened to his own brother. “Sounds like he was a, uh, good guy.” 

You nod, meeting his eyes over the fire again, the soft smile on your lips making his heart skip. “He was.” 

The two of you talk a little more, the topics now lighter and less serious. When you start yawning so often you can barely keep the conversation going though, he decides it’s time for bed. He insists that you take his sleeping bag, knowing your thin jacket isn’t enough to keep you warm until the sunrise. Once you agree to take it, he settles down beside the fire, pulling the hood of his jacket up over his head. Your soft snores meet his ears in no time and he smiles to himself, glad that he was able to help someone without using violence just this once. 

He stares into the fire, watching as the flames dance, as they devour the kindling he’d thrown in earlier, as they burn through the sticks and branches he’d collected. His eyes droop, head bobbing gently as he tries to stay awake, knowing he has to keep an eye on things (on you). He thinks he trusts you, or he wants to at least, but he just can’t seem to shake that feeling. Could he really trust himself though? After everything he’s done, after everything he’s seen? Perhaps it’s you who should be afraid of him. 

His thoughts spiral, taking him in directions both logical and illogical. He lets himself get lost in it, in the scenarios, in the possibilities, each one more unlikely than the next. At some point, he must doze off, though, because the next thing he knows is the weight of a body on top of him with a knife to his throat. 

It’s you. Of course it’s you. 

Damn it, he should’ve known, should’ve listened to that niggling feeling inside him that told him not to trust you. 

It’s dark save for the moonlight—you must’ve doused the fire before making your move on him.  

“I’m sorry about this,” you say, grimacing down at him somewhat apologetically. “You seem nice, and I actually kind of enjoyed talking to you but, unfortunately, I have a job to do.” 

Marc swallows thickly, the action pushing the blade a fraction deeper into his skin. “To kill me, you mean?” 

Your face loses some of its softness as you shake your head at him. “That depends on how cooperative you are.” 

He grunts, saying nothing as he tries to assess just how bad things are for him.  

“See,” you continue, leaning in a little closer, the delicious scent of you invading his nostrils. “I need information.” 

He waits for you to continue, eyes scanning your face for any tells, any flickers he can use to his advantage. When he doesn’t respond, you sigh in disappointment, frowning theatrically.  

“Please, Marc, I don’t wanna have to slice up your pretty face. Just tell me what I need to know and I’ll be on my way.” 

He clenches his teeth at your condescending tone. “What do you wanna know?”  

You smile softly at him and he curses himself for the way his heart skips a little; what the fuck was wrong with him? 

“Tell me about Operation Windstorm.” 

He needs to figure out how to get out of this. He can’t just push you off of him, can’t use his legs to flip you over, not with that knife so close to his carotid artery. One wrong move and he’s dead. 

So he stalls. 

Marc snorts, raising an eyebrow at you. “That’s it? Of all the jobs I’ve pulled, that’s the one you wanna know about?” 

You continue to smile down at him, as if you know exactly what he’s doing. “I couldn’t care less, to be perfectly honest but, my client wants to know so, until I get paid, I guess I do too.” 

He grunts, resigned to the fact that he has no choice but to give you exactly what you want in the hopes that you don’t slit his throat afterward. So he tells you every detail of that job, answering every question you have, and just when he’s beginning to think this just might not end well for him, he feels the pressure of your blade ease ever so slightly. 

He wastes no time, taking control and flipping you over, knocking the knife from your hand and causing it to skitter off into the darkness. Marc traps you beneath him, your arms pinned above your head, his knees bracketing your thighs. You’re not giving up without a fight though and wriggling beneath him, trying somehow to use the position to your advantage. You try to lift your leg, brushing your thigh against his groin; the clench of his jaw makes you smirk. 

“Stop it,” he orders, embarrassed by how easy it was for you to rattle him. 

“C’mon, we both know you don’t want that,” you tease, looking down at the slight bulge in his jeans. “Has it been a while, honey?” 

He growls, your breathy chuckles sending shivers up his spine as you continue to move beneath him. “Shut up.” 

“Or what?” you whisper, somehow managing to extricate one of your legs and curl it over his hip.  

“Or this,” he says through gritted teeth, grinding his erection against your core in an effort to turn the tables, to work you up the way you’re working him up. 

It works, your eyes fluttering, lips parting in a sweet little whimper as he grinds into you slowly, over and over again. He groans when you meet his thrusts (as well as you can anyway given your position), the heat blossoming in his gut. He leans in close, his hands still pinning your arms to the ground as he gets lost in you, in the feel of you, in the way you look beneath him. 

“Oh fuck,” you breathe, panting as every press of his hips sends delightful waves of pleasure through your body. 

Marc hums in agreement, his lip between his teeth as he hovers over you. You want to kiss him, to taste him, to devour him. So you do, pushing yourself up to capture his lips, your tongue claiming his mouth and pulling another groan from him. You arch into him as well as you can, pulling his body even closer with your freed leg as you continue to move together. The friction is delicious, like heaven, and a part of you never wants it to end. You wish you could flip him over again, ride him fast and hard, his strong fingers digging into your hips as you pull him apart and put him back together over and over and— 

Your release slams into you at the thought, a choked moan slipping from between your lips as he keeps moving, prolonging your bliss. Marc watches you as you come, the look in his eyes is greedy as your body shakes, your face contorting into something ethereal, almost otherworldly. When you come back to yourself, you meet his eyes again, your chest heaving slightly as you try to catch your breath. He looks like he wants to eat you alive, the wildness and lust in his eyes visible even in the darkness. You shiver with pleasure, chewing your lip as you let your gaze drag slowly down his body. You wish you could see more of him, his windbreaker doing nothing to compliment his undoubtedly amazing body. 

“Who sent you?” He pants, as if he hadn’t just given you the best orgasm you’ve had in years. 

Your eyes flick back to his at the question, a lazy smile curling the edges of your mouth as you begin to move against him again, silently begging him to come for you. He swallows thickly, his body tensing with every brush of your hips, his fingers clenching and unclenching around your forearms. His eyelashes flutter as he watches you, his mouth slack with pleasure. Then he groans, giving into you, into this, his body curling even more over yours as he buries his face in your neck. He ruts against you, his movements somewhat uncoordinated as he chases his release.  

His body twitches above yours as he comes, his moans muffled slightly by your neck. Just as you’re mourning the fact that you didn’t get to see his face, you notice his hold on you has slackened a bit— enough to turn the tables, you hope. Still dazed from his orgasm, it takes him a moment to realize what you’re doing as you begin to wiggle beneath him, and by the time he does, it’s too late.  

Marc grunts as you push him onto his back and straddle him, your hands pinning his muscular arms to the ground. After everything, you should probably kill him—he’s the type to hold a grudge, the type that’ll try to hunt you down—but you just can’t bring yourself to do it. If nothing else, it’d be a waste of a pretty face. Instead, you kiss him, relishing the taste and feel of him one last time before pulling away to smile down at him. 

“Thanks for the tumble, honey,” you whisper, climbing off of him with a chuckle. 

By the time he comes back to himself, you’re gone and the sun is just beginning to peak over the horizon. Marc groans in frustration, running his hands over his face as he tries to figure out what the hell just happened. He should be pissed, he thinks, for so easily falling into your trap but, somehow, he isn’t. He sniffs a laugh, shaking his head at himself as he moves to get up.  

Later, when he’s packing up his gear (including the sleeping bag he’d let you borrow), he comes across a folded, non-descript piece of paper that he knows must be from you. He unfolds it, his fingers fumbling slightly in his haste. For a moment, he just stares, his eyes tracing the lines and curves of your parting words, words that make his lips quirk in a smile.

See you around.

If you enjoyed this, please let me know! I appreciate every single reblog and/or comment. Thank you. 💖

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#my fic #moon knight bingo #marc spector x you #marc spector x reader #marc spector fanfic #marc spector fic #moon knight fic #moon knight fanfic #marc spector smut #moon knight smut

[scarlethexelove]

can you please write Y/N and Wanda also Natasha is not dead here (up to you thooooo) , and Y/N pretty much replaced Vision. But before these events Natasha has always been there for Wanda, (after Endgame) so she didn’t make a hex but still griefed about Y/N and Wanda making a big move for Y/N’s reincarnation but in a good way. After Y/N being back from the dead. She learns that her soon to be wife has already fallen for Natasha and her reincarnation just meant nothing and Y/N didn’t go on with her life and ended it just there.

Wands regretted everything until she lost herself and made a big mess with the universe (pretty much MoM) and overall Wanda regretting everything, and when she gets us back (it can be Wanda taking another one of us in an another universe) or her just making us alive from the dead *this all can be up to you author*

I love your stories 🖤

I'm Sorry

Pairings: Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Word Count: 3590

Warnings: Cheating (Allusions to it but really it is there), Angst, Major character death, Mentions of Murdering innocent people, Angry Wanda, Suicide by others, Not really a happy ending, tiny bit of fluff like very little.

A/n: This one was fun. I hope I did it justice. I may have changed a little bit of it but I hope you still like it.

NO ONE IS PERMITTED TO STEAL, COPY, OR REBLOG MY WORK AS THEIR OWN

Everything hurts. You have a splitting headache and it feels like you got run over by a MACK truck. Your face scrunches up in pain, the lights too bright even with your eyes closed. Sensory overload has you curling in on yourself. Hands come up to clamp on your ears when you hear a voice, but it’s so loud and muffled that you don’t even know who is talking to you. All you want is for all of it to stop. You had been an experiment but that experience doesn’t compare to what you are feeling right now. 

“Nat turn the lights off.” Wanda orders the older woman in the room. Nat flicks the light off as she watches Wanda brush some hairs back. You let out a whimper at the contact. It breaks her heart seeing you like this. When her hand brushes against your skin she can feel you. She feels your pain. Red whisps leave her fingers slowly seeping into your skin. Soon enough the pain starts to dissipate. 

Wanda crawls in the bed behind you wrapping herself around your frame. You feel a body pressed against yours and you immediately know who it is. “Wanda.” You whisper. You turn around in her hold and nuzzle into her neck. “I’m here sweetheart.” Wanda combs her fingers through your hair. You're so tired and she feels like home. You fight to stay awake but her ministrations have your eyes closing. “It’s ok detka get some rest.” Wanda whispers and kisses the top of your head. You finally let yourself drift off to sleep. 

A little over 5 years ago the team was fighting Thanos. Your powers let you see brief points into the future. You saw that if you died that Wanda would be safe. Thanos needed you gone to get what he wants but you also saw that in the end the Avengers would win. The event that sets that in motion was your death. So as much as it pained you you let it happen. To save Wanda, to save the world. Wanda could move on but the fate of the universe was in your hands. 

“Wanda.” Nat says softly from the corner of the room. She looks at you curled into Wanda’s arms. A sight she had hoped to never see again. “Natty, she needs this.” Wanda says softly, still stroking your hair as you sleep. Nat just nods. It hurts but she knows it is something that Wanda had to do. 

Your mind races. Your dreams are of your last memories. The fight with Thanos and how you let him kill you just in order to save everyone else. Your body shoots straight up as your chest heaves from the memories. You feel a hand rubbing up and down your back but you haven’t quite gained control. You mind questioning how you are here. Why are you alive? You should be dead. That was all your mind could see and you had accepted that fact but here you are. Tears stream down your face. “Why?” You're not sure what you are asking, who you are asking the question of. You feel so small. “Why what detka?” Wanda asks you with concern on her face. “Why am I here? I should be dead.” Your voice breaks and Wanda’s heart hurts seeing you like this. 

Wanda starts explaining everything that had happened while you were gone. Excluding some details. They had worked tirelessly to bring back those that were snapped away. Wanda and Nat become the de facto leaders of the Avengers. It took 5 years but they finally did. Once that was done they set out to bring you back. It took some time but somehow when Bruce had snapped his fingers he was able to bring you back. But somehow you ended up in a pocket universe in a deep sleep. They were finally able to get you back safely. All the information flooding into your mind is a lot to handle but eventually you understand. Somehow the universe had different plans for you. 

It’s been a few months since you came back. Most things are the same but something seems off. Wanda hasn’t been as loving towards you. Before she was always so touchy and wanting nothing more than to crawl under the sheets cuddling while watching some sitcoms. But now she barely even gives you a hug. Sleeping in the same bed has you feeling like she isn’t even there. She is a million miles away even if she is only right beside you. Your heart hurts not understanding, is she still mad at you for letting Thanos kill you. Anytime you try to talk to her she just brushes you off and says nothing is wrong. So you're left alone to your thoughts and worries.

Nat had moved into your shared home while you were away. The two women grew closer at the loss of so many others. You want to be angry and jealous that Nat gets more attention than you but you still trust Wanda hoping that she will come around eventually. 

You’re walking towards the kitchen when you can hear a hushed discussion between Wanda and Nat. You stop just shy of the door frame listening in when you hear your name mentioned. “Wanda you need to tell Y/n.” Nat says her body leaning on the counter and arms crossed against her chest. “Tell her what Nat?” Wanda counters. She sits at the table with a sad look adorning her face. “You know what Wands.” Wanda lets out a sigh. “I can’t do that to her Nat.” Wanda’s voice is low. “You can’t keep lying to her. You can’t keep lying to me. I love you Wanda.” There is a pause in the conversation before Wanda speaks up. “I love you too.” Your heart drops the moment the words spill from Wanda’s mouth. 

You’re quick to turn on your heels as the tears start to stream down your face. Holding in a sob as it all makes sense now. In your absence the two had fallen in love. You’ve somehow become the other woman in Wanda’s life. You don’t know how you didn’t see this coming. Your powers should have felt this but they hadn’t and now you’re left heartbroken. You push into your shared room focusing on pulling yourself back together. You can’t let them know that you know until you figure out what to do. 

The buzzing of your phone pulls you out of your despair for the moment. You see Fury’s name flash on the screen. You quickly wipe your tears and answer the phone. “Sir.” You say masking the waver in your voice. “Y/l/n I have a mission for you. Since you have been cleared for duty I would like you to head out tonight with Barton and Barnes. I have sent over the reports for you to go over. Good luck out there and glad to have you back.” The phone line goes dead as the man hangs up the phone. You open the report sent to your phone. You now see the flashes in your mind of how the mission will go. And that is where you see it. What you’re going to do. 

That night you enter the Quinjet greeted by the two men. Hugs and joy at your return. Your powers are always a significant help to missions. You three go over the plans for the mission. You lay out what you had seen in your vision, excluding one crucial part that the men don’t need to know. You know if they did they would try and stop you. But your heart aches and you put on a fake smile so that no one would expect a thing. 

Everything was set to go. A long message meant to play for Wanda after it was already too late. This would be your last mission. Wanda and Nat would have all that they could ever want. You wouldn’t be the burden that you know you are. They should have just left you dead if they were going to do this to you. So you made that decision for them. You weren’t going to come back from this mission alive. 

The mission was going perfectly. Playing out exactly as you had seen it. Bucky and Clint were together and far away from you. You snuck into the building off the side. It held some hostages that had been taken by Hydra. You snuck in taking out every agent that you passed. It didn’t take long for you to make it to the hostages. You were able to release them from their binds and get them out of the building safely. But you knew it wasn’t over yet. Bucky and Clint were waiting exactly where you told them too. Having each hostage run towards them for safety while you stood with your back towards the open area. 

You waited knowing what was to come soon. You could change the outcome but you didn’t want to. You didn’t want to be in a world where Wanda loved someone else. You waited with bated breath as the last hostage ran towards your teammates. You exhale the air in your lungs before a sharp pain in your stomach is felt. You grit your teeth turning around firing off a few rounds, but you're hit with another round to the shoulder. You can hear the muffled sounds of Bucky and Clint calling out for you but you push through. Another shot to the leg sends you kneeling on the ground. You push through the pain as you stand. A few steps forward as you unload your mag into the man. Another man appears with his finger on the trigger of his gun. You watch as an arrow sores through the air and hits the man directly in the chest. His finger squeezes the trigger as he falls. You’re hit with the array of bullets. Your body sways before falling to your knees then falling to the ground. The ground below you stains red as your body goes cold. 

Wanda felt a change in the universe. She cries out causing Nat to panic next to her. Wanda clutches her chest in pain. She felt this twice before. Once when Pietro died, the second when you died fighting Thanos. She had never wanted to feel that pain again but here she is feeling it. The world stops turning at that moment. Not again she thinks tears streaming down her face. 

The doorbell rings but Wanda doesn’t hear it. Nat tries to console the younger woman pleading for her to tell her what is going on. It continues to ring when no one answers until Nat gets up and finds out what is going on. Wanda sits sobbing on the couch. Nat walks back in with a folded paper with your hand writing on it. Wanda scribbled on the top. 

Wanda sees this snatching the paper from her hands and quickly opening it before reading the words delicately written across the page. 

My dearest Wanda,

You’re reading this because I’m gone. I’m sorry to do this to you

but I can’t live life like this. I know that you no longer love me.

I see the way you look at Natasha and I know she is now

the love of your life. I want you to be happy. I saw this coming

and I could have changed it but who am I to keep you from the 

one you love. Don’t mourn for me, just live your life. You don’t

have to worry about me anymore and you can be happy, that 

is all I have ever wanted for you. But my love I can’t live in

a world where you love someone else. So this is goodbye.

Love,

Y/N

Tears hit the paper blurring the words in front of her. Wanda’s heart shatters into a million pieces. How could this have happened? How could she have thrown away all that you two have? She is absolutely disgusted with herself and with Nat. This isn’t how it was supposed to go but she was blinded and now her eyes are finally open but now it could be too late.

Through the tears Wanda gets up making her way out the door and immediately taking off towards the compound. Her magic lifts her into the sky as she flies as fast as she possibly can to the one place she knows you would be. Praying that maybe it was all wrong, maybe you can be saved. Nat calls out for her as she leaves her alone standing in the yard. 

The ground cracks below Wanda’s feet as she lands hard on the ground. Anger and guilt pumping through her veins as she walks towards the building. Her magic slamming doors open as she makes her way to the med bay. Your body is already lying there. Bucky and Clint talking outside the room. Windows lining the wall as they keep looking back at your body. Wondering what they would tell the angry redhead but they didn’t have to wait too long. They spot Wanda fear and sorrow on their faces. “Wanda we can -” Clint is cut off. “Save it.” 

Wanda makes her way into the room. The boys walked away looking like kicked puppies. Wanda’s breath picks up as she sees your still body encased in a black bag. The top half of it unzipped revealing your pale skin and blood staining your suit. You look so peaceful like you could be sleeping. Wanda cups your cheek, a light jerk of her hand when she feels how cold you are. She lets her magic slip out the ends of her fingers going into your head. Fresh tears streaming down her face. “I can’t feel you.” A sob wracking her body. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry love you never deserved any of this.”

Wanda silently sobs as she sits next to you. Your hand in hers as she just stares blankly at your body. The door clicks open a while later. Wanda doesn’t turn to look. “Go away.” Her voice is hoarse from all the crying but she doesn’t care. “Wands.” Nat whispers. “I said leave.” Wanda’s voice raises as her head snaps towards the door red swirling in her eyes. Nat knows she is just upset so she doesn’t back down. “Detka.” She whispers. “Don’t you dare detka me.” Wanda stands letting your hand drop off the side of the bed. “This is all your fault. She is fucking dead because of you.” Wanda seethes. “Don’t put that blame on me Wanda. You're just as much the problem.” Wanda stalks towards Nat red surrounding her body and slamming her into the window, a crack forming behind her body. “Don’t you fucking dare blame me. It should have been you. You should have died back then. I would still have her. She is more of a woman than you will ever be. I let myself be blinded by you. Blinded by the love you gave but I didn’t love you. I don’t fucking love you.” As hard as Nat can be, Wanda's words cut deep. Tears shine in her eyes as she holds back a sob. Wanda sends Nat’s body flying through walls until she lands outside. Wanda follows as she does so. Releasing Nat’s body which is now battered and bruised. She then flies off into the night. 

It’s been months since anyone has seen Wanda, held up in a small cabin in the middle of nowhere surrounded by mountains. Some have tried but they always get blasted out so they stopped trying. She has been lost to the Avengers and they aren’t sure they could ever get her back. The day they lost you they also lost her. 

Wanda’s black tipped fingers comb through a book. A very dangerous book. The more she searches the darkness in her soul grows and the blacked tips grow. She has tried everything in the book to bring you back to life but none of it works. She had another attempt today, something new, something hopeful but it ends with a magical outburst throwing everything in the cabin. She continues to comb through the pages ignoring the disarray around her. She closes her eyes and lets her magic do the work. It’s not long before she finds something new. She thought she had seen all that this book had to offer. All that the Darkhold had to offer to the Scarlet Witch. 

You are sitting in your living room, two small boys cuddled into each of your sides as you watch a movie. Empty bowls of ice cream sitting on the coffee table that you have your feet propped up on. You laugh as your son Tommy tries to mimic you. You other son Billy giggling along. Tommy huffs and crosses his arms. “Not funny.” He mumbles. You can’t help but ruffle his hair which makes him swat at your hand causing you to chuckle. “One day buddy you will reach it.” You kiss the top of his head. All of you falling back into the silence, the only sound is the movie playing. 

Your mind flashes to a vision of Wanda but not your Wanda standing in the middle of your living room. Her face twisted into something you can’t even imagine in your wildest dreams from the woman you loved. The pain that she has caused to get to this point. As your world comes back to you you are met with a star shaped portal in the middle of your living room. What was once an image in your head now in front of you. 

Wanda’s hand wraps around the young girl's throat in front of you. “What did you do?” She seethes. The two boys next to you are terrified. You quickly stand and tell them to run but Wanda’s head snaps towards you. The couch you were once on is now thrown at the stairs blocking the way. You push your boys behind you in a protective manner. Wanda’s eyes trailing the boys curiously, a small warm spot forming in her heart seeing your protective nature. She didn’t expect to find you with kids but she always wanted a family with you so it can’t hurt. 

“Wanda!” You yell at her. Wanda is startled by the anger in your voice. You have never yelled at her like that. “Let the girl go.” You demand of her. Her hand slips from the girl's neck as she coughs on the ground holding her throat. Wanda starts stalking towards you but you back up with your boys behind you. 

Billy tugs on your shirt a little trying to get your attention and you quickly look back at him. “Is that Mama?” His voice sounds so small. Your attention quickly turns back to the woman in front of you who has stopped. You can see tears in her eyes at Billy’s words. “That is not your Mama.” You shake your head. You can see the hurt on Wanda’s face as she gets closer to you. “I can be.” She says a crack in her voice. 

You start to walk towards the woman but your boys try to stop you. You motion that you will be ok as you stand in front of Wanda. “You could never be my Wanda.” She falls to her knees, her hand on her chest as she looks up at you. “I can see your hurt and your pain but you have caused so much more and for what.” Tears rolled down her cheeks. “I did it for you.” She whispers. “I would never want you to do this for me. Wanda you murdered people. Good people.” Wanda stands back up and moves towards you, her hand reaching out to cup your cheek. You back up away from her touch. “I wanted you back.” You scoff and shake your head. “After seeing what you did I could never want you. I miss my Wanda but you are not her and could never be.” 

Wanda’s face twists in anger. You try to back up again but she is quicker this time. She grabs your wrist in her hands. “Wanda that hurts.” You whimper as she digs her nails in. “Too bad. I’ll make you love me just you see. Now that I have you back I will never let you go again.” There is a panic that rises in you. “We will have the perfect little family.” She looks behind you. “Won’t we boys?” They are too scared to say or do anything just holding onto each other for comfort. 

Wanda keeps one hand on you as she turns around. Her wrist flicking as America is thrown back through the portal. It dissipates from the middle of the room before she turns back to you. You struggle to get free but she is stronger than you remember. She clicks her tongue and looks at you, her hand finally reaching to cup your cheek. Red whisps leave her fingers as they sink into your mind. “All mine now.” She replaces every memory and thought of your Wanda with her. Changes the fear to love. You’re hers now and no one will change that. Her magic soon flowed into the boys having the perfect little family. She would tear the world in two to keep you and the boys forever. 

#syd answers #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda x reader #wanda fanfic #wanda marvel #wanda #wanda x you #wanda x y/n #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda maximoff fic #scarlet witch #wanda maximoff angst #wanda maximoff x fem!reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x reader angst

[bosbas]

Chapter 9: I cannot be your friend, so I pay the price of what I lost

series masterlist previous part || next part

pairing: colin bridgerton x enemy!fem!reader WC: 4.0k words

Warnings: period-typical gender roles, small part of the dialogue in French, colin being incredibly down bad it's insane, Penelope DOES NOT have feelings for colin in this, the bridgertons being tapped in as fuck

Summary: It took precisely two days in England for you to utterly despise Colin Bridgerton. It took him approximately twelve hours after that to hate you right back. But he doesn't care that you're the only person in the ton who doesn't like him. You're set to marry someone else anyway, right?

A/N: this one wrote itself basically. so enjoy! happy weekend and a big smooch

June 6 – It seems that one Mr. Nigel Berbrooke has returned after an extended unexplained absence. He was spotted at the gentleman's club last night, though only for a very short time. This author heard that Mr. Berbrooke was asked to leave only an hour into his appearance due to a particularly aggressive threat he made toward Simon Basset. It’s safe to say that he has been uninvited from the Duke’s ball this evening, and perhaps from the rest of the social season’s events as well, depending on how lenient the Duke and Duchess of Hastings decide to be. 

However, information regarding his whereabouts for the past month is scarce, and this author lacks any reputable sources about what the man has been up to while away from London. But rest assured, dear readers, that any information I receive will be relayed through this very column.

Colin looked nervously at his reflection for what seemed like the hundredth time, adjusting his cravat ever so slightly. He sighed in frustration, accepting the fact that his appearance wouldn’t look quite right no matter what he did. 

Tonight was Daphne’s ball, and he knew for a fact that you would be in attendance. As much as he was trying to convince himself that this ball was no different, he knew it wasn’t going to be the same. Not after his talk with Anthony. There were some concerningly similar aspects between Kate and Anthony and his friendship– could he even call it a friendship? –with you, and Colin was not too hard-headed to be able to admit that. 

But he didn’t want to scare you off. As much as he liked you, he knew you were skittish after everything that happened with Lord Barlow. Besides, Colin didn’t even know if you liked him, too, or if you considered all of this as just an attempt to make you look desirable to other candidates. 

Frankly, Colin wasn’t even sure he could convince you to ever marry him. Maybe just being friends, or whatever it was the two of you had now, would suffice. Truthfully, he would take anything. 

Tonight, he just wanted a dance. And perhaps a chat, too. 

Based on the past few times Colin had spoken with you, he had concluded that you might be his favorite person in the ton to talk to. The mere thought of speaking with you tonight stirred excitement in his stomach. Every time you engaged in conversation, he found himself utterly captivated, forgetting everything else around him. What's more, you seemed genuinely interested in his what he had to say, a rarity among the ton. For the first time, he felt truly understood, and he hoped desperately that you reciprocated his sentiment. 

“You look fine,” assured Eloise. “Now can we please go? We’ll never hear the end of it from Daphne if we’re late!” 

Colin grumbled in annoyance but begrudgingly made his way to the carriage. In truth, he'd do just about anything to be near you. Even if he didn’t immediately dance with you– knowing full well you would be flocked by hordes of gentlemen wanting your hand in marriage– he still liked to simply… observe you. How your eyes crinkled shut when you laughed, the way you nervously bit your lip when someone you didn’t particularly like asked you to dance, the way you fiddled with your gloves when you were itching to get out of a conversation.

Bloody hell, Colin thought, maybe he did have feelings for you. Well, not love, that would be absurd. But certainly something more than the petty rivalry that had consumed your interactions for weeks on end. It was a sobering realization, especially after relentlessly antagonizing you for the better part of seven weeks.

He was so caught up in his thoughts about you that Colin barely noticed once the carriage had arrived at Daphne and Simon’s residence.

“Colin, darling, is anything the matter?” his mother inquired, tapping him on the arm and gently leading him toward his sister’s home.

“No, no, sorry. Everything’s alright, just got a bit distracted there,” he smiled back. 

Christ, he had to get a grip. You’d be put off immediately if you saw how he was acting now. He smoothed his coat down as he entered the ballroom, eyes immediately searching for you in the crowd.

He quickly spotted you speaking to a man he’d never seen before with Isabelle and Carlos by your side. Damn, thought. He’d have to wait to ask you to dance. 

But it was no bother. In the meantime, he attended to his duties as the most beloved Bridgerton. He sought out his sister and Simon to thank them for hosting the ball, of course, and danced with Penelope Featherington. 

Yet his focus stayed on you. He found himself glancing over to where you were every few minutes, just needing reassurance that you were still there. And also because he quite liked looking at you in general.  

Colin shook his head, bringing his attention back to Penelope. He had to remind himself to pull himself together. Even though Colin had spoken to Anthony, you had no reason to believe anything was different between you two. And it wasn’t. Everything was the same. It was only Colin who had changed. Who wanted something different, something more. 

“What’s on your mind?” asked Penelope after she noticed Colin’s drifting attention.

“Ah, nothing,” he responded dismissively. “Does Lady Montclair look particularly… subdued tonight, do you think?”

“Y/N?” Penelope clarified, looking over at where you were standing next to Louis. 

“Oh heavens, don’t look now!” Colin whispered, panicked. “She’ll see us both looking and know we were talking about her.”

Penelope laughed in disbelief. “Could it be? That my dear friend Colin Bridgerton is finally falling for someone? Have you truly found roots in England? Is that why you’ve stayed for so long this season?”

Colin could only smile bashfully. She had never seen him quite like this. And though it was unusual, it was fairly endearing to see him so flustered over a girl.

“Well, go talk to her, then. What are you doing dancing with me?”

“Penelope, I dance with you at every ball. I can go speak with her after. And don’t tell anyone! I’m not even sure if she likes me.”

“Very well then,” relented Penelope, but Colin did not miss the knowing smile she sent him.

After the dance concluded, Colin chatted with his brothers for a few minutes before making his way over to you and Louis, wanting to avoid seeming overly eager. But once he started walking toward you, your head shot up, as if you could tell that he was getting nearer. 

Your eyes met for a split second, but you immediately turned your head away, choosing instead to look at your gloved hands, which were fidgeting nervously. Colin frowned in confusion at your reaction, but continued walking, thinking that perhaps you had seen someone else behind him. 

As he reached your side, he saw you chewing anxiously on your lip and his frown deepened. But he pushed through. This was what he wanted, after all. You were what he wanted. 

“Lady Montclair,” he bowed. “Would you care for a dance tonight?” he asked, a hopeful smile on his lips as he reached for the dance card on your wrist.

But you pulled your hand away abruptly, refusing to meet his eyes. “No, thank you, Mr. Bridgerton,” was your curt response. 

Colin’s confusion morphed into frustration. What was the matter with you?

“That’s alright, I understand if you want to save space on your dance card for more…serious suitors,” he cringed as he heard himself speak. But at the end of the day, he was well aware that you were looking for a titled gentleman to be your husband. “We could take a turn about the ballroom and chat for a bit,” he offered, looking at you hopefully once again.

You finally met his eyes, and he could tell you were searching for something as you looked at him, a pained look on your face.

“No, thank you,” you repeated firmly, an edge to your voice. 

Colin rolled his eyes. This was so typical of you. You let him in for about three seconds and then went back to keeping him at arm’s length for whatever unknown reason.

“Are we really back to doing this?” asked Colin, exasperated. “I thought we were friends, at the very least.”

Your spine was suddenly rigid, and a fury ignited in your eyes. “We were never friends, Mr. Bridgerton,” you ground out. “You were simply doing Eloise a favor. Now, if you’ll excuse me, there’s someone else I must dance with.”

Your voice was cold and uncaring, and Colin was slapped with a reminder of how things used to be as you sidestepped him to go toward the other side of the ballroom. 

Three steps into your journey, it was clear that there wasn’t actually anyone waiting to dance with you, but he couldn’t for the life of him figure out why you were so desperate to get away. Even at the peak of your hatred toward him, you were always open to verbally sparring. 

Colin turned around to Louis, shooting him a questioning look. But your brother could only shrug. Who knew what went on in the depths of your brain? Louis had noticed you had been slightly on edge ever since you returned from Hyde Park with your sisters yesterday afternoon, but he wasn’t expecting you to be this hostile, especially after getting along so well with Colin.

Feeling his desire to speak with you outweigh his pride, Colin turned back and grabbed your hand, turning you to face him. “If what you want is to go back to arguing, I’m happy to do that,” he said, heart sinking to his stomach at the thought of going back to how things were.

He sounded positively pathetic. But he didn’t care. All he cared about was keeping this fragile dynamic alive, keeping you near him. If Anthony and Kate could do it, couldn’t the two of you?

You seemed on the brink of tears, but your voice held an unspeakable fury. “What I want is for you to leave. Me. Alone,” you emphasized each word with a pointed jab at his chest. “Please,” you whispered, your voice faltering. “I do not wish to dance with you, or to chat with you, or even to be near you at all. Good night.”

With that, you pivoted away, heading towards the refreshment table, tears welling in your eyes. And Colin was left standing there, hand lingering over the spot on his chest you had prodded.

He felt a familiar anger rising through him. It didn’t matter that you were the only person in the world who understood him. It didn’t matter that you were completely beautiful and incredibly smart, either. And it certainly didn’t matter that he’d fallen for you. Because you still hated him. And he was a fool to ever think things could be different.

Colin was rooted to the spot, unable to move as he watched you smile and greet some gentleman or other. He flinched as he saw the man kiss the back of your hand, and watched, seething, as he led you to the dance floor. 

Deciding he needed something stronger than lemonade, Colin turned around and grabbed a glass of champagne, downing it in one go. He couldn’t believe you didn’t think he was your friend. What the hell else could you call it?

He spotted Eloise and Penelope chatting close by and stomped over to them. He was sure he looked like Gregory after a fight with Hyacinth, pouting with his arms crossed, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. 

“I thought you were going to talk to Y/N,” said Penelope, confused to see him back so soon. 

Colin shot her a murderous look. “She wants nothing to do with me, apparently. She said the only reason I talked to her was out of a favor to Eloise.”

Eloise coughed awkwardly. “Well, didn’t you?”

“No!” shot back Colin defensively. “Not entirely, at least. I don’t know. I need to leave.” 

You were still dancing with the unnamed man, and Colin was very much still seething as he watched the pair of you twirl around and smile at one another. 

Usually, it was frustrating to watch you dance with other people because you were never like that with him. But this well and truly hurt. It hurt to see you like this when he knew, now for a fact, that he could never have that with you again. 

“I need to leave,” he repeated. He couldn’t bear to watch you do this all night.

Snatching another glass of champagne and downing that one, too, he bid his goodbyes to Penelope and Eloise and made his way across the ballroom to the exit.

“Are you leaving already, darling? You’ve barely been here an hour,” Colin heard next to him as a hand reached out for his elbow. 

Turning around, he faced his mother, who looked like she was in the middle of a conversation with Anthony and Benedict. 

Colin nodded. “I’m sorry, mother. I just can’t. I can’t stay,” he responded, voice breaking as he glanced back toward you again. 

Seeing you lean to whisper something in your suitor’s ear, he slumped forward, practically feeling physical pain at the sight. 

“I must go,” Colin said firmly, giving his mother a quick squeeze and rushing to the door. 

Violet nodded, bewildered, and followed where Colin’s gaze had been. Finding you dancing with Lord Norcliffe, Violet sent a knowing look to Benedict and Anthony. 

“I suppose Hyacinth was right,” she said sympathetically.

“And don’t you dare tell her! It’ll get to her head,” responded Benedict. 

---

“The Bridgertons will be in attendance tonight,” your mother informed you carefully as you sat in the carriage on the way to yet another ball. 

“And by the Bridgertons you mean…”

“She means Colin, yes,” answered Jacques, earning a stifled laugh from his wife, Chiara. 

Ever since they’d been back and learned of your intense hatred for Colin, Jacques had not been able to stop making a mockery of it. Usually, you were quite agreeable, and it was rare that you found yourself at odds with someone who wasn’t your sibling, so this seemingly unprompted hatred was quite amusing to your brother. 

You groaned and glared at him. “No one asked you to come tonight, you know. In fact, no one asked you to come to England at all! You could have stayed in Tuscany, and I would have been much happier.”

“Ah, but then I wouldn’t have had the opportunity to tease you about this,” answered Jacques, completely unbothered by your biting tone. 

“Whatever,” you grumbled in response, only slightly comforted by Chiara’s apologetic smile as she softly scolded her husband.

It had been four days since your run-in with Nigel, and three since you saw Colin at Daphne’s ball, and the thought of seeing him again made you feel sick. It was already bad enough that he was disgusting and had no respect for you, but it was made infinitely worse by the fact that you had let yourself grow to care for him. In a friendly way, of course. You could never have married him, anyway. But it was still embarrassing that you fell into his charming trap and thought that you could become something more than a conquest for him.

“Be nice,” your mother whispered in warning as you approached the Bridgertons. 

You shrugged her off, not needing a reminder. You had been brought up to be the perfect lady. You weren’t about to forget yourself now. You refused to give Colin that power. 

You greeted the family warmly until you got to Colin. “Mr. Bridgerton,” you said, giving him a curt nod.

Not waiting for a response, you moved to stand away from him as you looked out at the crowd. Perhaps you would find a gentleman who was actually enjoyable to talk to, though your chances seemed slim. 

Colin shifted uncomfortably on his feet, watching you intently. It seemed that your behavior at Daphne’s ball hadn’t been a fluke, after all. He ground his teeth in annoyance, growing increasingly irritated by the fact that you were just standing there.

Why weren’t you doing anything? It was infuriating. Perhaps it would have been less infuriating if it were anyone else, but it seemed like anything you did was particularly vexing to him.

Making his way over to you, he stopped beside you. Wanting to slip back into the comfort of your tumultuous dynamic, Colin took a shot at your attire. “I see the modiste-”

“Don’t,” you interrupted, your voice shaking, barely above a whisper, and your gaze locked ahead of you. 

Colin was taken aback. You had never, in all the time that he had known you, backed down from an argument. It seemed that you just… didn’t want him around at all. You hated him enough that you didn’t want to be near him. And in any way that mattered, it was worse than when you were antagonizing him.

“I’m sorry,” Colin said desperately. “I didn’t mean- Look, can we please talk? Just quickly, I just want-”

But you didn’t even let him finish. “There’s nothing to say.”

Colin scoffed, a futile attempt to hide how hurt he was really feeling. “What do you mean there isn’t anything to say? I have things to say, at least. Just talk to me.”

You finally turned to face him, feeling your stomach drop as you looked at his desperate eyes searching yours for an answer. 

“Let me rephrase. I do not wish to speak with you, in any capacity, now or any time in the future. I do not care to hear what you have to say, Mr. Bridgerton, and I would appreciate it if you could respect that, though I know that’s not usually in your nature.”

Colin could only sputter, staring at you in disbelief as you walked away. He felt his stomach turn uncomfortably as you reached a man he didn’t know, but whom you’d danced with at Daphne’s Ball. 

He had to have done something wrong. Colin hadn’t the slightest clue what, but you obviously had something against him, and it clearly wasn’t just you being silly. 

He swore under his breath. You were impossible. Not even Eloise knew why you hated him! How on earth was he supposed to know how to fix this when you refused to speak with him? It was almost easier when all you did was hurl insults at him and step on his feet as he poured lemonade down your dress.

Over on the dance floor, you couldn’t help but steal glances at Colin, mentally scolding yourself every time you did. This was not how you were supposed to be acting toward the man who had jumped at the first opportunity to compromise you.

The only reason you were dancing with Lord Norcliffe now was because he had not arrived in London until after your whole debacle with Lord Barlow. You supposed he could have heard what happened from someone else, but he was safer than the rest of the men of the ton, you thought grimly. It would’ve helped if he was interesting to talk to, or even nice to look at, but you supposed you couldn’t be very selective.

Curtsying and thanking Lord Norcliffe for the dance, you made a beeline toward Carlos and Philippe across the room. 

“You look like you don’t want to be here,” commented your brother, amused. 

You rolled your eyes at him. “Astute observation, Philippe.”

Carlos laughed and gave you a comforting pat on the head. “But what happened to your season in England? I thought you were excited to be here?”

“My mother and father were certainly excited,” you mused, taking Philippe’s lemonade and drinking from it. 

Seeing their confused looks, you briefly explained your encounter with Nigel Berbrooke, and they suddenly became very concerned. 

“Ce connard! Il est où? Je vai le tuer,” growled Philippe under his breath, not wanting the rest of the ton to hear his threat (That asshole! Where is he? I’m going to kill him).

“Philippe, it’s alright,” you assured him, glancing over at Carlos and seeing that he, too, had understood your brother’s words despite not speaking French. “I believe Simon Basset took care of him at White’s a few days ago.”

“That’s just as well, or I’d have done it myself,” he grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“You can just come to Spain next year, cariño,” Carlos said warmly.

You smiled up at your brother-in-law, silently thanking him for the offer even though you knew your parents would never allow it. 

Colin watched enviously as you had a conversation with your older brother and your older sister’s husband. He wished he could talk to you again. Even if nothing got resolved between you, he liked to hear your voice. He loved how stubborn you were and how frustrated you got when you forgot the English word for something. He just missed you, he supposed. 

Which is why, as Colin watched yet another man approach you and write their name on your dance card, he decided he couldn’t do this anymore. The watching, the waiting, the wanting. He couldn’t do any of it anymore. 

“I need to leave,” he said firmly.

Daphne, who had been standing beside him, turned to face him, startled. “Leave where?”

“India, Egypt, Morocco, back to Greece. I don’t care. I just need to get out of here.”

“What? Why?” asked Daphne, still confused. 

“You know why,” Colin responded flatly, giving her an unimpressed look. 

Daphne instinctively turned to look at you, laughing as the man you were dancing with whispered something to you. She turned to look back at her brother with a disappointed look.

“I can’t imagine leaving would be the best option.” 

“Why not?” Colin shot back. “What good can my presence possibly do?”

Daphne put a hand on her brother’s elbow, giving him a sympathetic look. However, her voice was firm. “You always leave when it gets hard, you know? You’re always the first out the door and onto a different continent. Why are you so scared of staying?”

Colin was stunned. He didn’t know his motives were that obvious. But he supposed it made sense for Daphne to know since she knew him better than most people.  

“I’m not scared of staying,” Colin insisted defensively. “I just think it’ll be better for everyone if I go.”

Daphne furrowed her eyebrows and shook her head. “And do what? What could you possibly be doing that is so important that you would abandon the woman you love?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Colin argued, his voice growing strained as he felt his chest getting tighter. “None of it matters. She doesn’t love me back. I could be down the street or in Brazil and she wouldn’t even notice. She clearly hates me and wants nothing to do with me, so why should I stay?”

Daphne crossed her arms, looking more than a little disappointed. “Well, I won’t be the one to stop you if you decide to go. But really think about whether you want to be the person who leaves time and again. Things could change. It's only been a few days since she's been like this.”

She had a point, but Colin was too upset to admit it. Daphne was right. He couldn’t just leave now. If anything, it would hurt him more than being near you with you not speaking to him. It was the strangest feeling, knowing you loved someone but feeling powerless to do anything about it. 

Colin knew he couldn’t continue like this. Perhaps he couldn’t leave, but he could certainly stay as far away as possible. 

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#bridgerton #colin bridgerton #colin bridgerton x reader #enemies to lovers #colin bridgerton imagine #colin bridgerton fanfic #colin bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton fanfic #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton imagine #bridgerton x reader #colin bridgerton fluff #colin bridgerton angst #colin bridgerton x enemy!reader #bridgerton x you #colin bridgerton x you #bridgerton fluff #bridgerton angst #lost in translation #lost in translation: writing

[firelordsfirelady]

IX. Flash of Blue

Author: @firelordsfirelady

Imagine: When Y/N—a princess of one of the Water Tribes—is told she’s leaving her tribe, she never expects that she’s to be betrothed to the Fire Lord’s son, nor was she prepared to be exiled the very day she arrived at the Fire Nation. With her life in the hands of her new fiancée, how will life change for the princess? 

Pairing: Zuko x F!Reader

Trigger warnings: arranged marriage, feelings of fear, banishment, mentions of burns/abuse, frustration, violence, betrayal

Word Count: 870

Destined to be Yin and Yang 

I own no rights to Avatar the Last Airbender or any of the characters/story.

Author’s Notes

The characters as all aged up so Zuko’s banishment happens when he’s 16 

Keep in mind I am bringing a unique world with inspiration from ATLA in their characters, some of the events that happen, bending, etc. Not many things may align or occur with what happened in the show. It’s intended that way, so I hope you enjoy it regardless.

See Y/N’s inspiration here. 

Zuko and I trained every day for the next week or so, but I found myself struggling to focus on fighting. Zuko had grown frustrated and told me to leave if I couldn’t focus, and that’s how I found myself one afternoon standing on the deck. I watched the endless horizon of the icy sea continue without much variation.

Something deep inside my being whispered to watch the horizon for something.

“Gets boring watching the horizon, right?” I turned to find Lieutenant Jee casually walking to stand next to me. “I don’t know why the Prince insists on this mission of finding the Avatar.” The lieutenant placed his hands on the railing as he spoke his next words bitterly. “Or why he insisted on dragging us all with him.”

“You shouldn’t speak about the Prince in such a manner.” My words were stern. “I understand you’re frustrated, but you truly have no idea how much the mission means to him.” I could feel his eyes staring at the side of my head before he let out a humorless laugh.

“I did not think you’d be the one to have a soft spot for the Prince,” Jee said and my cheeks felt hot at the accusation. 

“I don’t have--” I opened my mouth to speak as a large bright beam of light lit the sky in the distance. The beam of light continued to light up the sky as Zuko came rushing over to the side of the boat. The blue light drew my attention like a moth to a flame as I was suddenly attempting to attack a stranger on a dock in a city up north. The world is void of light as I try to defend myself, but the stranger laughs as he sends a fireball my way. I collapse as the world went black as the fireball made contact with my body.

“The only settlement in that area is a small Water Tribe village in the Southern Pole territory.” When I came to, there was a damp cloth on my forehead and whispers of conversation in the room around me. “That’s where we need to go.”

“Where you think we’ll find the Avatar?” Another voice--Iroh’s--whispered.

“Yes.”

“Because of the light?” Iroh’s final question had Zuko go quiet for a moment.

“Do you think I am imagining things?” I recognized Zuko’s voice as he sounded hurt at Iroh’s statement, and Iroh sighed heavily.

“Sometimes, the light beams we see are nothing more than celestial glimmers in the cold winter sky.” I heard Iroh shift his weight in the chair beside me. “Sometimes, caring for those who care for us is the more important option.”

“I’m not worried about her, Uncle.” Zuko’s tone was harsh, and I let out a low groan I slowly opened my eyes to let them know I was awake. Zuko was standing over the desk in my room with a map sprawled out on the surface of it. Iroh sat beside me in the chair from my desk. A bucket of water sat beside Iroh with various rags neatly folded next to the bucket. “I’m sure that was the Avatar.” 

“Take it easy, Y/N,” Iroh said as he shifted his attention to help me sit up in bed. “You gave us quite the scare.”

“Good. You’re awake.” Zuko’s voice was cold to me as he turned on his heel. “We will make haste for the Southern Water Tribe.” Without waiting for Iroh’s response, Zuko added. “Y/N, when we arrive, you need to stay on the ship. I don’t need any weaknesses when go to capture the Avatar.” With that, Zuko left the room and briskly walked away. I gave Iroh an encouraging smile and ushered him away as Zuko left.

“I’ll be okay.” Iroh gave me an apologetic smile as he left the room and closed the door behind him. A shaky breath left my lungs as I laid my head against the cool wall as I had to face reality once again.

It’s a coincidence that the beam of light was the same scenario as my dream. I ran a hand through my hair as I set the damp rag in the bucket by my bed. Something in my spirit was telling me that it wasn’t a coincidence that the beam happened as it did in my dream. I let this internal argument fill my head until I felt the familiar sensation of the anchor dropping.

Sneaking behind one of the crates on deck, I watched from a distance as the crew was lined up before Zuko. The Fire Prince slowly paced back and forth as he spoke to them in an authoritative tone.

“Our mission is to find the Avatar is vital to the future of the Fire Nation.” He stalked back down the line as he continued. “We will prove ourselves worthy to see our homes and our families again, or we will die trying.” Zuko paused to look at Iroh before turning to put on his Fire Nation helmet. The crew all followed suit and marched off the ship behind Zuko. I felt a pang in my heart at Zuko’s speech, but watched as they all marched off the ship.

Tag List @chevysstuffs @puttyly @ginger24880 @night-fall-moon @junieshohoho @0kauy @coolgirl458 @hypnoticbeing @angelruinz @preeyansha @playboygeniusphilanthropist @ssonniiu  @chi-ara @hagridshaircare @dearstell @kyo-kyo1

#avatar imagine #zuko imagine #zuko x reader #avatar the last airbender #prince zuko #destined to be yin and yang

[acey-wacey]

Hello! Can I request a sunflower with Silver?

I typically don't allow anons on events but this prompt was just too cute, I couldn't resist! Thank you so much for your support!

...

Pairing - Silver x Reader

Prompt - Childhood Friends

...

"Hello."

Silver blinked his eyes open to see a fuzzy figure hovering over him. He didn't even notice he had closed his eyes in the first place. And he was trying so hard to stay awake for the first day of primary school.

"Hi," the figure prodded. As Silver pawed at his groggy eyes, his vision cleared to reveal a child, about his age standing over him with a curious look. His head was propped up against the cubbies. He must have fallen asleep during reading time again.

"Hello," Silver responded, blinking at the person who had woken him up.

"You fell asleep during reading," you said, cocking your head at the sleepy boy with curiosity. "Don't worry though, I asked Miss Lilac so many questions so she would be too distracted to be mad at you."

He just stared blankly at you.

"It's lunch time now. Everybody else already left," you continued. "What's your name?"

"I'm Silver," Silver said through a tiny yawn. You plopped down in front of him cross-legged.

"I'm Y/N," you said and took your little backpack off your little shoulders. You unpacked your princess lunchbox while Silver watched inquisitively. When you looked back up at the boy in front of you, you furrowed your brows. "Don't you have a lunch?"

"Yeah," Silver mumbled quietly. "Why are you here if everybody's gone for lunch?"

"Miss Lilac always lets me stay in the classroom for lunch," you said as you began unpacking your sandwich, apple slices, oat bar, and baby carrots. A lunch fit for a little kid. "Nobody else wants to sit with me so it's more fun to just stay in here."

Silver stared at you for a moment before reaching for his own backpack.

"I'll sit next to you," he said with a small smile. You face immediately lit up.

"Really?" you exclaimed with glee. Before he could react, Silver was buried in a hug. You nuzzled your face into the side of his cheek with a smile. "You're my best friend now, Silver."

"I've never had a best friend before," Silver said plainly as you pulled away, back to your original criss-cross. "What do best friends do?"

"Weeeelll..." you dragged the word out for a long time. "They eat lunch together."

"We're already doing that."

"Yeah, that's why we're already best friends!" you almost yelled, so excited by the prospect of having a best friend that you forgot the manners your mom had taught you. "They also share a bunch of stuff."

You held up a couple of your apple slices to Silver.

"Here."

Silver took the apples and nibbled on them as he unpacked his own lunch which was a Tupperware full of something you couldn't identify.

"I would share some of my lunch with you but I don't think you can eat it," Silver said sheepishly.

"What do you mean?"

"My father made my lunch for me, but I don't think it's people food."

"Is your dad a person?" you asked. Silver had to think about it.

"I don't know. I'll ask him when I get home."

"Can I come with you?" you asked eagerly. Silver looked surprised.

"Come home with me?"

"Yeah!" you bounced up and down from your seat on the floor. "Best friends do that too! They go to each other's houses and they have playdates."

"Sure, if my father says yes."

"Yay!" It seemed like your excitement was bursting out of you. You could barely keep still but you wanted to keep sitting next to your new best friend. "Maybe we can get married at your house!"

"I don't think kids are allowed to get married," Silver said with a confused look. "It's only for grown-ups."

"Okay, then, when we're grown-ups, we have to have a playdate and get married."

"Okay!" Silver said, a smile on his face. "Pinky promise."

You broke out in a grin almost too big for your face.

"Pinky promise."

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twst #disneytw #silver twisted wonderland #silver twisted wonderland x reader #silver x reader #silver #nyx's solarium

[thesassypadawan]

Repair Kit (Hayden x FemReader)

Summary: You’re the on-set medic for the new Obi-Wan series. A verily simple, straight forward job…except when it comes to a pair of dumbasses. Who have no problem texting you in the middle of the night when they overdo it practicing…or when your new boyfriend accidentally gets out drunk. And tells you some things.

Warnings: 18+ (mdni), because there’s a slight hint of smuttiness. Some drunk dumbasses and a booty grabbing Hayden.

Notes: Happy Hayden's (And Mine) Birthday Event! In honor of the man, the myth, the legend; I will be posting nothing but Anakin, Vader, and Hay stories all April long!

A little something for @ittybitty-rt ! It was truly a pleasure to write this! I had a lot of fun with it!  Hope you like it! ❤️

- It was 2am when your phone goes off. You only know this because it was glaring at you from the lock screen. Along with an interesting message from a certain ‘hello there’ saying gentleman… ‘Vader Repair Kit’. Bring. Hayden’s trailer. Now.’

- “Oh, what the hell now,” you grumble. Begrudgingly rolling out of your nice, cozy bed; you hurriedly throw on the first thing you can find. Grabbing the requested ‘kit’ on your way out.

- This was your job; well, to a certain degree. You’re the on-set medic for the new Obi-Wan series. Normally, during the DAY, you can be found fixing up beaten knuckles…soothing minor burns…maybe even stitching up a wound or two. Pretty much you just keep everyone happy and healthy.

- Simple enough. Except when it comes to a particular pair of grown ass men who act like stupid teens the moment they’re together. Who see absolutely no problem with texting you in the middle of the night. About the most moronic things…aka usually practicing after hours and completely overdoing it.

- However though, that wasn’t the case tonight…

- Before you can even knock, the door flies open. Revealing ‘Dumbass #1’ in all his grinning glory. “D-Darling, you look stunning.”

- Stunning…they must have fucked up good. “Shove the sweet talk, Ewan. Who did what this time?”

- Rubbing the back of his neck, the ‘jedi master’ laughs nervously. The smell of alcohol VERY noticeable on his breath. “Well, y-you see-”

- “Meee, I did!” A familiar voice calls out drunkenly.

- Shooting Ewan a look, you push your way inside. To find…

- ‘Dumbass #2’ sitting on the bed; big, goofy smile on his face. Arms flung wide open. “There’s my angel!”

- Staring blankly, you let out a heavy sigh. “Seriously? Don’t make me regret agreeing to date you.”

- Not paying any mind to the whines of ‘how mean’…or the ungodly adorable pout…you immediately get to work. Pulling out various rehydration items and whatever can possibly lessen the inevitable hangover from your ‘kit’. “All right, dark lord, you know the drill. Just like when you overheat in the Vader suit. Drink and take what I give you. And you’ll be sort of good as new.”

- Right as you’re about to hand him a bottle of what you both so affectionately call ‘blue milk’ and some aspirin. Those arms you’ve been avoiding wind around your hips and… “Heh-heh, booty.” …unceremoniously pull you down onto their owner’s lap.

- “Hay, what the…stop!” You squeak, face all flushed while trying to wiggle out of his hold.

- “No!” He giggles excitedly, squeezing your plush posterior like crazy. “Booty!”

- You hear the sound of Ewan clearing his throat behind you, a slight smirk in his voice. “You h-have this under control. I’ll l-leave you two love birds b-be.” Followed by the trailer door closing. Bastard…so much for being your only hope.

- Barely a second afterwards, Hayden has his face buried in the side of your neck. Nipping and sucking your sensitive skin. Hands still kneading greedily. “He right, ya know. We that…because I loves you.”

- Did he really just say that? You haven’t…he hasn’t… “You’re drunk. You don’t know what you’re saying,” you mutter. Scratching the back of his head, doing your best to ignore the awakening beast pressing into your stomach.

- Pulling away, not before giving your collarbone a gentle bite, Hay looks up at you with puppy dog eyes. Whining a bit while not so subtly grinding. “Maaaybe, but don’t mean it not true. I loves my angel. Wanna shows her.”

- Forcing back a soft moan, it takes everything you have to not cave. Sure, you’d love nothing more than to do so; to just tear it up like nobody’s business. But right now…right now he needed you in a whole different way.

- Despite his protests, you untangle yourself and slide out of his lap. “How about this?” You coo, sitting besides him and wrapping an arm around his waist. “You drink your ‘blue milk’ and get some rest. And…you can show me as much as you want in the morning. Okay?”

- “Fine,” he huffs, resting his head on your shoulder. “You numb me?”

- Although this isn’t exactly how you pictured the two of you saying it, you can’t help but smile. “Yeah,” you whisper, kissing the top of his head. “I love you too.”

- “Good, because I no give up booty,” Hayden mumbles. Giving aforementioned booty one last good pinch before dozing off.

Tag List: @espinathena-17, @myheartwillgoon2022, @wifeofasith, @princessswifie, @kenobiskywalker16, @loverforoldermen

#hayden christensen #hayden christensen x reader #hayden christensen fanfiction #hayden christensen smut #anakin skywalker #anakin #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin x reader #star wars anakin #sw anakin #anakin skywalker fanfiction #anakin fanfiction #anakin smut #star wars #star wars prequels #star wars fanfiction #star wars smut #darth vader #darth vader x reader #dart vader fanfiction #darth vader smut

[eepyuii]

frostbite — pt. 14

pairing ; childe x gender neutral!reader

content ; childhood friends to “rivals” to lovers, slowburn

cw ; mentions of scars (edit: im a fucking idiot i forgot they talk abt scars at the start of the chapter) and like… brief dottore mention, so u know it’s icky. also u guys will be mad at me.

notes ; AHHH!!!!! I LIVE!!!!! oh gosh so many hectic life events lately….. i hadnt been able to get my hands on this dang chapter for so long

anyhow, i was planning to publish this one early like a day or two ago with a reference to an arlecchino voiceline that was THEN a leak and not out yet, so i’m glad i waited and developed this one just a little more LOL

also good luck with everyone’s arle pulls!!! (better luck than mine i hope ;w;) just like childe and the reader at some point, WANTERS WILL BE HAVERS ‼️

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“agh— be more gentle!”

“i’ll be more gentle if you stop flinching away. you’re a war machine who can turn into an abyssal beast, withstand how draining it is to use it, hold your ground against a champion duelist but you can’t handle a little cotton ball soaked in alcohol?”

“well there’s no adrenaline anymore to remedy this sting, now, is there?”

it’s almost comically reminiscent of your meeting with childe back in zapolyarny palace, where he got himself hurt just to come tell you that he was to leave for liyue— feels like it was ages ago. childe leans against the elegant marble counter of your hotel room’s bathroom, pile of bloodied cottons and tissues piling by his hands, while you clean the fresh wounds he’s just acquired from clorinde.

from how much he flinches and hisses, the wounds almost seem grave… but they’re no more than a few scratches, slashes and bruises. after his witty remark, you can only attribute his absurd resilience during battle to the mentioned adrenaline— otherwise he wouldn’t have gotten nearly as far as he has with those reactions of his.

“so did you get what you wanted from that spar? how was it in comparison to your other tries?”

childe pauses thoughtfully and proceeds to pout.

“…i think she was still holding back. i need another spar.”

“gh-! are you kidding?! childe tartaglia ajax, i am not letting you resplit the forehead i just fixed up anytime soon.”

he sighs melancholy like a grounded child, but nods in agreement anyhow. childe’s eyes remain downward, he mindlessly fiddles with the hem of your shirt as he awaits patiently for you to finish tending to his wounds. once you finish, you scan him up and down to certify that you’ve taken care of everything, until your gaze is caught by his scars.

his war medals.

he’s got an insurmountable amount of them scattered all over his body and not one is like the other— some are large lashes most likely caused by weapons like axes or claymores; some are finer lines caused by swords or daggers; a few of them even look like different types of burns, likely the work of varied elemental catalysts; and some look like small stars or circles, probably the result of arrows or the tips of polearms.

the inches of his skin that his scars don’t cover are littered with the tiniest specs of freckles… ones you’ve barely had the privilege to see over the years as a result of living in eternally cold lands. it’s only been since you’ve both been to warmer regions like liyue, inazuma and now fontaine that you’ve began to notice them.

and you’ve found that the intricate, graceful tapestry that childe’s scars and freckles weave is… gorgeous.

it’s so uniquely mesmerizing that you nearly struggle to find a worthy comparison within words or the world around you. the closest one would be to a starry sky— you imagine that his freckles become the stars that remain stationary and furthest away in the night sky, small and bountiful, while his scars are the shooting stars that flash by in a vivid explosion of light.

it’s beautiful. he’s beautiful.

you’ve realized that you’re less afraid to admit this to yourself now. perhaps spending so much constant time with childe after such a while of misencounters and diverging schedules, has made you become more comfortable around him— to the point where you barely minded him childishly playing with the hem of your shirt. it feels fine, domestic even… almost in the same way that a coup—

“hey, why’re you staring so hard? am i not gonna make it, doc?”

you flinch as you’re snapped away from your train of thought, taking in how childe’s eyes flicker worriedly over your face. unfortunately, your mind isn’t freed from the grasp of your thoughts of… admiration and your gaze quickly flies over his scars once again. the delicacy of the moment, unexpectedly, fuels you with enough confidence to raise forward a hand that lightly grazes a particularly eye-catching gash on childe’s neck— the stretched healed skin ever so slightly bumping against your digits.

“nothing… j’st looking at your scars.” you answer absentmindedly.

beneath your hand, you feel his adam’s apple raise in a hearty gulp. next, childe inhales deeply and exhales a shuddered breath, as if an attempt to ground himself.

“what about ‘em?” he whispers expectantly.

“i like them.”

it’s as if you’ve gotten the liquid courage of a drink while being entirely sober, you’re surprised that you’ve done so much as let yourself say that out loud. though perhaps… that bewilderment might just be your downfall— within the thought, you notice just how close you and childe stand before each other. he leans against the bathroom counter in only the deep red undershirt of his uniform, eyes laser-guided onto your every move while you’re only a hair’s length away from him. his absurd height doesn’t help the moment either, as he’s forced to hunch over and his figure arches forward into you— it’s suffocating.

you can’t allow yourself to crumble and panic right now, it would absolutely destroy you for the rest of your life, so you opt to breathe deeply. childe watches intently as you do and returns it with his own deep sigh, one that you feel hit your face warmly the moment it leaves his lips and so it further capitalizes on just how obscenely close the two of you are— to the point where you breathe each other’s air.

childe’s piercing azure eyes move from matching your own to slightly further down on your face…

to your lips.

“yeah?” he mumbles in the most delicate tone possible, it’s not like you’re too far to hear anyway.

it’s an inexplicable magnetic pull that brings you the smidgenmost closer to him, it has to be so. it must be that same pull that brings you to look at his mouth— plump and pink, likely still store from the split at the corner of his bottom lip. and there’s no other possibility other than that damned magnet as to why your hands slide up to wrap around his neck, childe’s shyly snaking around your waist in response.

you don’t feel like you’re in a bathroom in a hotel room in fontaine anymore, you don’t feel like the seconds pass anymore. it’s a pocket between space and time that has enveloped the two of you, away from everything else.

and there’s nothing in this world left to do other than to lean just a breath closer to each other… just a little more and—

knock knock knock knock!

you flinch away faster than lightning, heart thudding ironically like thunder. childe also seems to have been entirely spooked by the knocks on the bedroom door and he pretends to bring his hand up to scratch something on his face, but you know very well he means to hide his glaringly flushed face— you know that because you do the very same, only you briskly step away to open the door instead.

outside the room, two fontainian officers greet you, though they seemingly go wide eyed for just a brief second as if you’re not who they expect to answer.

“forgive me, friend, this is… mr. tartaglia’s room, is it not?” one inquires.

you frown in suspicion, and you plan to not directly confirm the question as to pry exactly what business two policemen would have with childe. unfortunately, the devil decides to announce it himself by coming up behind you, arms crossed defensively.

“and what might be the problem, officer?” childe asks pointedly.

both officers simultaneously eye the two of you, the blushing idiots opening the door together, and proceed to share a knowing look. the first officer sighs while the second clears his throat awkwardly.

“we apologize for… intruding so abruptly but— mr. tartaglia, you are currently being suspected of being the culprit behind the serial disappearances of young women case. for the time being, you are under arrest and must face trial at the opera epiclese to make your case.”

…what.

“what?”

coincidentally, both you and childe exclaim at the same time— though, childe’s tone is rather condescendingly skeptical while yours is laced with pure, unadulterated shock.

the harbinger scoffs. “well, i can very confidently tell you right now that i didn’t do it.”

yeah, great way to clear any and all suspicion, man.

frustratedly pinching the bridge of your nose in an attempt to help you process the last five seconds, you sigh.

“i-i think what he means to say, officer, is that it’s not plausible for him to even be a suspect in this case. i mean— if i remember correctly, doesn’t that case extend for over twenty years? we’ve only been in fontaine for a few weeks! you can check our travel tickets, they’re dated. plus, we haven’t done anything even remotely disruptive while we’ve been here, both of us have multiple reliable alibi’s regarding our whereabouts over the past few days, and—“

the officer puts up a dismissive hand, effectively interrupting you. “please, leave this for the iudex to hear.”

a metallic jingling catches your attention and you see that the second policeman wordlessly produces handcuffs from his tool belt, the panic bubbles in your throat even further. childe’s shoulders visibly tense and it’s clear that he’s intent on fighting back— with once again lighting fast reflexes, you put a hand on his shoulder and throw him a warning look as a means to discreetly impede him. childe sighs frustratedly but ceases anyhow, allowing himself to be guided out of the room. out of pure illogical desperation, you chase after.

“don’t say anything hostile or stupid until we find you a lawyer! i promise you i’ll be right behind!” you call out as the three are at the other end of the hallway and catch a final look from childe, the emotion behind it is indescribable.

your chest feels overwhelmingly tight.

—

who knew such a resplendent room could be so suffocating.

it feels as though you’ve been waiting for an eternity and the intended comfort of the opera eplicese’s waiting room only serves to unnerve you more. the most important person in your life has just been abruptly accused of being a serial kidnapper and you’re supposed to indulge in sickeningly sweet pastries and tasteless tea? it’s almost derogatory.

your leg has become sore from how much it bounces restlessly, your nail plates scratchy from how much you fidget with them, all the paper napkins on the table sloppily folded into failed paper stars. none of it helps.

you can’t even decide what to worry about, all of it swirls and spirals in your head like a rumbling tornado. is he okay? are the officers treating him well? who will defend him? will he go to prison? for how long? when in the tsaritsa’s name will arlecchino retur—

the door slams open and you jump, partially with the abruptness of it and out of sheer panic to get some news on the situation. your heart starts palpitating again and it takes everything within your willpower to seem more put together in front of the knave.

“s-so?” you ask with an uncontrollable shake in voice.

“it’s invariable, childe must face trial and defend himself. we can only count on the factuality that he is innocent and the oratrice will say accordingly.”

you sigh, at least… whatever in the archons’ name constitutes that machine is infallible.

“the trial starts in five minutes.” arlecchino adds curtly.

you nod and allow yourself to take a deep, grounding breathe before standing up to leave the waiting room. as your hand reaches out to the doorknob, there is a firm grip on your shoulder. you turn ever so slightly to find a pointy-nailed, stark black hand holding you back— another moment to analyze the hand reveals to you that… that’s her skin. black.

a chill runs down your spine.

“allow me, for a moment, to ask a selfish question in exchange for a selfish answer, sargeant.” she stands, voice dark and menacing. “as an asset of the doctor’s… do you share his ideals?”

the question takes you off-guard but it also… doesn’t. you’re not an idiot— you’ve heard of dottore’s letters to the house of the hearth suggesting the, err.. ‘rejects’ be sent to his custody so he can further his experiments. you remember how utterly appalled you were when you first came across the information. if the knave truly cares about the children in her orphanage, it’s no wonder how tightly she grips your shoulder, sharp nails just a breath away from breaking skin.

and so she asks you selfishly, a question not of loyalty but of morality.

dottore’s face flashes before your eyes and your hand subconsciously tightens into a fist, expression hardening.

“if his life were in my hands, i’d crush it in a heartbeat.” you whisper bitterly.

the grip releases you and it’s as if air is easier to breathe after that. arlecchino wordlessly steps ahead to open the door for you and gestures for you to leave first, expression neutral as if nothing had happened.

the courtroom looks like no courtroom at all, rather you feel as though you’re about to watch an opera in a grand theater— the rumors about fontaine seem to be true after all. in the rows of cushy seats, people whisper and gossip endlessly until you find yourself a seat and the booming sound of a gavel being struck echoes through the court, all sound ceases.

“court is now in session for the case of serial disappearances of young women, today we will hear both the prosecution and defense’s arguments regarding mr. tartaglia of the fatui’s alleged involvement.”

a baritone voice echoes through the silent courtroom, the direction it rings out from reveals a white-haired man in proper blue robes, sitting in a balcony that floats above the courtroom’s stage. you recognize him as the iudex, the chief justice, monsieur neuvillette. his tone is elegant and intellectual, with complete considerate professionalism—- its cadence almost reminds you of zhongli in a sense. but that’s not all that reminds you of zhongli… you can’t quite put your finger on it though.

what follows is merely formal introductions from the prosecution and the defense and you take the opportunity to become distracted and ponder over just how catastrophic your morning had turned out. it all happened so quickly too— one second you were… ah… canoodling with childe and the next he was being escorted out the room by law enforcement. had you been cursed by the gods? would they be so cruel as to make every peaceful moment in your life just merely bedding for the next major inconvenience? would they be so frustratingly taunting as to let you get that close to the one you have feelings for only to rip you two away from each other right afterwards?

“it would appear i must repeat my question, mr. tartaglia.” neuvillette says firmly, catch your attention and breaking you from your daze.

“do you accept the charge that you are the true culprit behind the serial disappearances case?”

“to be perfectly honest, i don’t understand your country’s complicated court systems, or the reason why i’m being charged with something i’ve never even heard of.” the harbinger answers bluntly.

“however, i did hear that people who have been charged can choose to participate in a duel to clear their name— is that right? in that case, as long as i accept the charge, i can have an all out fight with that champion duelist clorinde, right?”

…

how can the supposed love of your life be this stupid?

“when i privately sparred with her last time, she was obviously holding back… real disappointing.”

“hey, don’t you understand? you’re currently the prime suspect for a major case! this isn’t the place for you to be looking for fights.” a female voice calls out from the balcony directly above where you seat— while you can’t see who it is, you can only assume from the bossiness of her tone that it’s lady furina herself, the hydro archon.

“oh? sounds like the hydro archon wants to lecture me on the ways of the opera house…” childe taunts. “then why don’t you duel me too? i’m the kind of students that learns best in the heat of battle.”

you’ll kill him, oh you’ll kill this idiot one day… does he want to rot in prison for the rest of his days? this time you truly cannot hold yourself back from subconsciously standing up in panic, limbs urging to get up there and try to amend the situation yourself by arguing like a normal, sane person— but the judging stares of the other spectators hinder you glued to your seat out of sheer embarrassment.

“alas, it would appear that communication with the defendant is going poorly, and we have made very little progress.” neuvillette intervenes. “in that case, let me explain everything from the very beginning again. the goal of this trial is to determine the culprit behind the serial disappearances case—“

“that case had nothing to do with him! you’ve got the wrong man!”

huh? …who said that? did that not come out of your own mouth? seems like something you’d blur out… instead it comes from a flamboyantly dressed blonde woman who bursts into the courtroom at that very second. to you, she nearly seemed angelic in the moment.

“miss navia, this is the second time you’ve interrupted the court proceedings. i only tolerated your behavior last time because you were able to provide the court with a key eyewitness. but that was exception rather than standard court protocol— i can very well charge you with contempt of court for your interjections.”

“oh please, did you ever think i had any respect for this place’s pointless theatrics?” navia scoffs.

“we can put aside that discussion for now, i’m not here to argue with you. i’m here to charge the true culprit behind the serial disappearances case. and if my charges prove true, the tartaglia here will be proven innocent by default, correct?”

neuvillette proceeds to dismiss childe from the stand to make way for navia and allows him to seat in the audience and you feel like you should owe this lady your life. childe’s eyes scan through the seats and when he spots you, he visibly lights up and beelines to the seat next to yours.

“challenging the hydro archon? really?” you whisper playfully.

childe contains himself not to laugh loudly. “can’t say it wasn’t worth the shot.”

it’s as if a wordless conversation settles between the two of you, silent glances and deep sighs that express the mutual hopefulness for a good outcome of this trial. after a solid few seconds of staring at each other like fools, childe’s gaze drops down, you follow it to see his gloved palm sat in the armrest between the two of you— it faces outward in an invitation. your hand joins his without thought and the second your skin registers the warmth that radiates from his hold, it’s like an electric shock runs through your veins. one so buzzing that makes you two simultaneously face away from each other to hide your burning cheeks.

you’d like to pretend that you’re paying attention to the trial, but the ever so gentle squeezes childe hand gives yours periodically seem to take up all of your focus and cause it to short circuit. suddenly, there’s another burst of the courtroom’s doors and there stand the traveler and paimon, because of course they’re somehow also involved in this.

“naviaaa, we’re back!” paimon calls out.

“as expected of my partner! i just knew you’d come back in the nick of time!”

“just how often do you intend to flout the rules of this court…” neuvillette mutters disappointedly.

the traveler’s appearance contributes new evidence towards navia’s favor, who expertly disperses all of the oppositions statements. the culprit is revealed to be a man by the name of vacher, who was intent on bringing back his dear vigneire to the point where he began dissolving innocent young women with primordial seawater. as overtly ridiculous as fontaine’s spectacle culture seemed to be, you couldn’t say that watching this trial play out wasn’t extremely entertaining.

but speaking of innocent…

“at this point, the verdict of this trial is clear. with mr. marcel’s conviction, the charges against mr. tartaglia no longer hold any basis.”

you giddily look over at childe, who seems as aloof as someone who didn’t worry for a second. your fingertips tingle with excitement and you can feel the stress evaporate off your shoulders in real time. neuvillette summarizes the entire case once more and submits the verdict to the oratrice— the machine hums loudly and flashes a blinding blue, producing an envelope finally confirming his guilty status. much to unspoken disappointment, childe lets go of your hand to stand with his chest proudly puffed up.

“well now, hasn’t this been the most delicious piece of drama? the villain has been caught, justice has been served, pas wrongs have been righted and it’s a bit ol happy ending… since it’s been such a great show, i’ll just let the false accusations against me slide. either way, i’ve still got some business to attend to, so if you’ll excuse me—“

the harbinger looks back to offer you his hand once more and you happily take it before childe begins to lead you two out of the room. unfortunately, the guards at the doors of the courtroom remain unmoving as they block the doors and you frown in confusion.

“please wait just one moment, mr. tartaglia.” says the iudex.

“oh, what now? none of this has anything to do with me.” childe groans.

“according to court protocol, since this trial was initiated due to a charge against you, a verdict must also be made regarding the initial charge before the trial can conclude.”

you sigh out of selfish frustration, but opt to respect the proceedings anyhow— it’s not like the verdict will change now. childe, on the other hand, voices his annoyance like a petulant kid.

“please respect the laws of fontaine. this has always been the rule.”

“it’s fine, we’ll just have to wait here a few little seconds more.” you whisper to childe coaxingly.

he sighs. “alright alright, but this has been a lot of hassle. all i need is to stand over there, right? let’s just get this over with…”

“through evidence presented in the public trial that was just held, it has been established that mr. tartaglia has no direct connection to the serial disappearances case. the guilty party has been established and thus, it is logical to suppose mr. tartaglia is innocent of the charges.”

the machine whirrs once more, stirring some curiosity within you as to what exactly makes it tick or give accurate verdicts at all. as the envelope reaches the chief justice’s hands, he seems to stutter for a moment as he reads it. neuvillette’s ever so stoic face falls slightly into a vexed frown and he hums in confusion.

“according to the judgment of the oratrice mechanique d’analyse cardinale, mr. tartaglia is— guilty.”

taglist ; @kentply @osaemu @rain-and-a-nice-nap @koichirana

#genshin impact fic #childe genshin x reader #childe imagines #childe x reader #childe x y/n #childe x you #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #childe fic #tartaglia x y/n #tartaglia x you #childe tartaglia ajax #tartagalia genshin impact #tartaglia x reader

[fangsandfracturedhearts]

Fangs and Fractured Hearts

Chapter 15: Reclamation

Summary: You helped Astarion complete the Rite of Profane Ascension and become the Vampire Ascendant. You agreed to become his spawn soon after. Once the Netherbrain was defeated, Astarion claimed the Szarr Palace, renaming it the Crimson Palace, for himself and set about his plans of domination.

Word Count: 6.6k

Pairing: Ascended Astarion x female!Tav Spawn

Warnings: [Will try to continue to add more, but in general expect explicit content for mature audiences]

Possible spoilers. Eventual Explicit Content. Slow Burn. Thoughts of Suicide. Violence. Blood. Injury. Mature Content. Self-Harm. Mentions of in-game content. Completely fabricated camp events. Mentions of Astarion's Trauma.

If you notice a very critical tag missing, please don't hesitate to let me know

Rating: Explicit 18+ - [Meant For Mature Audience]

A maelstrom of emotions dithers over the union you share. He seems unsure of what exactly he should be feeling as it fluctuates between fear, doubt, and bewilderment in a tumultuous outburst. His thoughts are akin to walking on the dark side of the moon - frigid, wilful in their grip on him with an undecipherable sapidity.

“What do you mean?” He shakes his head, eyes bouncing around as his brows pinch, creasing his forehead. His voice is detached and reticent, a masterpiece of regret and dolour. “I wouldn’t do such a thing, surely. Would I? Hells below. Did I?”

“You must have,” you conclude, wiping your tears with the back of your hand. “I don’t remember you doing it, but I can’t hear or remember it.”

Astarion jumps to his feet, nearly pitching you off his lap in haste, but he grabs you at the last minute, dragging you up with him. He pulls his trousers up but leaves them loose as he paces fitfully, muttering and mumbling to himself and wracking his fingers through his hair.

“I don’t understand,” he utters, half to himself and half to you. “I just do not understand. Why would I do such a thing? How long ago did I do this? What the fuck is wrong with me?”

It’s not your fault.

“I think it was before I…” you trail off, squeezing your eyes closed at the memory of Astarion stalking you through the Crimson Palace hallways like a predator, caustic venom spitting from his lips, every word eating away at your soul.

“Left me,” Astarion finishes with a note of despair, like a cold hand laid upon your bare soul. “You can say it.”

You nod sullenly, dropping your head, deject and wayward.

His emotions are flickering through your mind and body like a kaleidoscope of lightning strikes, each blinding flash incomprehensible in its intensity. You focus, but Astarion stops dead as you try to catch and hold them, and the connection is severed.

You are once again empty, a barren midnight sky that’s misplaced the stars and moon. Your eyes snap to Astarion, but the scarlet of his eyes looks hollow with madness as he regards you with the wariness of a wounded animal. He looks at you like he doesn’t know who you are, and it sends a wave of alarm coursing through you, causing your palms to heat.

He retrieves his shirt from the floor, always keeping a close eye on you as if you might pounce. He’s unreadable and cold, the iron countenance of the Vampire Ascendant shrouding him like an icebound veil. Without a word, Astarion darts out of your room, descending the stairs at a whirlwind pace that would be perilous for anyone who wasn’t so agile.

“Astarion?” In confusion, you chase after him without much thought, nearly tumbling down the stairs, and grab his arm. “Where are you going?”

He rips his arm out of your clutches with a bestial snarl. “Don’t touch me!”

“Just wait,” you plead with him, casting Misty Step and blocking his trajectory to the door. You can’t make heads or tails of this shift. “Please. Tell me what’s going on. Let me help.”

“You can’t help me.”

Astarion tries to get around you, but you won’t secede any ground and hold your position with foolish defiance. He grabs your arm, pivots, and thrusts you backward, throwing you to the floor. When you look up at him, those crimson eyes are starting to flick and fade like a star in the throes of death.

“Do not try and stop me again,” he growls, taking stalking steps toward you with a choler tinge in his voice. “Bad, pet.”

Astarion laughs, leans down, and grabs your ankle. He squeezes until the bones are wailing and threatening to break under duress. You whimper, beseeching cries for amnesty, trying to crawl away.

“Master, stop! Please.” You barely recognize the word as it jumps off your tongue in your agony. The haunting palette of bruising is immediately stained on the ghostly white canvas of your skin.

His grip is suddenly snapped away, and he springs back, grabbing his head with a pained groan, shaking it from side to side furiously as he roots himself in place. His breath falters as his eyes meet yours with a hysterical acidity as their claret shifts from deep and warm to shoal and dull as if covered by a thick layer of dust.

“Sorry,” he totters unsteadily on his feet, his lips parting with erratic breaths that make his chest jump aperiodically. His heart beats so hard in his chest that the sound is almost ear-splitting. “Hells. I’m so sorry. I— I— must go.”

Astarion does not even close the door in his urgency, and you’re left naked, clutching your ankle on the floor, staring into the street with your mouth agape. You cast Telekinesis to throw the door closed and limp around the manor, closing the heavy drapes to block the sun.

“Fuck!” You scream at the emptiness surrounding you as you pull yourself up the stairs on your lame ankle.

As you bathe, you allow your body to submerge into the spacious tub. You force yourself to forgo the useless impulse to breathe the air you no longer require and sink. The water’s surface contorts above you like an uneven mirror, twisting and warping reality. Everything is falling apart, and you feel like the sand of a beach being dragged away piece by piece with every crash of another wave upon the shore of your life.

Your heart would be beating recklessly in your chest if you hadn’t been alleviated of life. Colourful promises of love and breaths of forever in a realm of temporary fill your eyes with tears that seep into the water. Time stands still, and your doubt settles and masks your bravery. You’re one step closer to losing him entirely, but you must be fearless. Neither you nor Astarion can afford for you to fall.

Closing your eyes, you run headfirst into memories, searching your soul for all the places that feel like home.

The thudding of boots, the drip of rain that sneaks through the fissures in the bricks, the skittering and squeaking of vermin — everything echos off the stone in Moonrise. The fire throws foreboding, eerie shadows in slinking shapes across your tent that make you uneasy. No one wanted to camp here for the night, with the Absolute Cultists only floors below, but it had been a long journey through the Shadowlands, and the hungry shade had sapped everyone’s strength.

You flop restlessly on the furs in your tent, unable to trance. You had been counting the cultists inhabiting this wretched place as you made your rounds, trying to familiarize yourself with the layout. The omen of the arduous battle hangs over you, and you’re trying to devise some semblance of a plan to wipe them out in stages. You were never a very strategic planner. Typically, showing up and raining fire, violence, and death have worked for most of your life. Even with the help of the Harpers, one mistake could spell disaster.

Your ears twitch as you hear the rumbling murmurs bounce off the walls, and you’re out of your tent in a blink with fire ablaze in your palm, fearing the cultists have figured out that you don’t fit within their ranks. Taking a lap around, you take a quick headcount, checking your friends off one by one until you hear a soft, breathy whimpering.

Astarion…

Crouching by his tent, you whisper his name, but he does not answer. You recognize a nightmare when you hear one, and your hurt lurches in your chest, fingers hovering just over the door of his tent, but you don’t open it. Your proximity is usually enough to calm him without waking him, and this time seems no different. The trashing has stopped, and his muttering has ceased.

You sigh, relieved, and lay down at the door, curling up on the hard stone. You will rest here tonight if it means you can bring him even a scrap of peaceful rest.

“Darling,” Astarion purrs in a rugged timbre, heavy under the weight of drowsiness. “Whatever are you doing?”

You smile and flop over to peer into the hypnotic, heavily-lidded eyes. Astarion yawns, fangs peeking from his lips, and grins back at you.

“You were having a nightmare,” you whisper, making sure to keep your voice down so it doesn’t wake the others. “I didn’t mean to wake you. Go back to sleep. I’ll stay here tonight.”

“You were going to sleep out here on the stone?” He cocks his head, quirking a brow at you. “Why?”

“It seemed to comfort you,” you shrug.

"I meant, why would you sleep out here when there's a perfectly good bedroll in my tent with me?”

“Oh,” you say, sitting upright with a jolt. “That’s okay, Astarion. Really. I’m perfectly fine out here.”

“Get in here, weirdo," Astarion giggles, grabbing your arm and giving it a gentle tug.

You hesitate, but he tows you harder, and eventually, you relent and crawl into his tent. You sit in the corner, trying to make yourself small, wrapping your arms around your knees.

Astarion huffs exasperatedly, “You do realize that we’ve had sex, yes? You were hardly shy during our little late-night expeditions.”

“I’m not shy, not with you,” you giggle but avidly watch how Astarion’s jaw clenches, fingers tangling into the furs. “You’re hungry. I can see it. I can’t imagine it’s comfortable to be so close to a food source in a confined space.”

“I’ll admit, it’s not easy when you’re so very delicious with that lovely neck, begging to be tasted,” he grins, an artificial smile meant to put you at ease. Astarion notices that he cannot fool you, and his fingers rifle through his hair. “I’m fine. Truly. You’re not in any danger around me. I can control my hunger.”

“Danger? Oh, Gods! No, Astarion.” You shake your head at him, offering your hand, and he takes it. His thumb sways softly over the back, “I’m not afraid you’ll hurt me. I just don’t want you to be uncomfortable. When’s the last time you fed?”

“Oh, I don’t know, darling. There was that cultist I made a snack of a couple of days ago. You needn’t concern yourself with it. I’ve gone much, much longer without a meal.”

There’s a bleakness shading the sculpted angles of his face that makes your heart palpate with empathy. You don’t have to ask for confirmation. Cazador obviously starved him as some form of punishment. It makes your palms heat in reflex as you seethe. You don’t care what it takes. You are going to kill the motherfucker who dared torture this man that’s stolen your heart.

“Astarion, whenever you’re hungry, I’m happy to offer my neck. All you have to do is ask.”

“That’s very… sweet, but the very shadows of this place are hungry.” Astarion sighs, wrapping his arms around his waist to smother his hunger pains. He smiles, “As much as I would absolutely love to take you here and now, you need your strength. We have many battles ahead.”

“Don’t be dumb," you tut, moving your hair away from your neck. “I need you strong. I am capable of deciding this for myself. I don’t need you to do it for me.”

“Dumb? Darling! You wound me.” He theatrically scoffs, hand to his forehead, falling back as if you slapped him, with a shallow chuckle, “I have received many slights in my life - Insufferable, insolent, insignificant, but this might be the first time I have been accused of being dumb.”

“Well, they say there’s a first time for everything,” you smirk, levity uplifting the lilt of your baritone. “Consider this your first.”

“You are racking up quite the catalogue of firsts,” he chuckles, shaking his head, propping himself up on his elbows. “Are you sure? I am truly of sound mind. No one is in any danger.”

You crawl toward him, heart rate accelerating with every forward movement of your hands and knees, “Will you please shut up and bite me already? Before I berate you for believing I think you’re a danger.”

Astarion’s hand wraps around your arm, persuading you closer with pressure, but he does not so much as glance at your exposed neck. He’s fixed on your eyes as if he’s found heaven hidden within them.

“Then allow us to dine together,” he nods slowly, eyes still moored to yours as he sits upright, prompts you to turn, and holds your back steady against his chest. He kisses under your earlobe and hints his lips down the column of your neck until he settles on that rhythmically pumping vein. He kisses it, long and lingering, and groans, “Are you ready?”

“Yes,” you sigh, barely able to contain your body’s excitement as it trembles in his arms.

His fangs puncture your skin like icicles, impaling the soft flesh, but it ebbs and dulls to a paradisical strumming before your mind has time to react and withdraw. For a vampire that has not fed on thinking creatures much, he’s remarkably gentle and has only become more tender since you started these little meals. He draws from you in unhurried pulls, tallied and modulated as he listens, and his palm splays across your chest over your heart to determine its pace in case he does not hear it accurately.

You feel your ethos skimming through his veins, warming his skin, flushing the tips of his ears, an antidote to his pain. You sigh mellowly, and your fingers untwist from his trousers, going lax. His arousal hardens against your back as he removes his fangs from your neck, tongue lavishing at the residual weeping wounds with broad, flat strokes and moaning a chilled breath over the shell of your ear.

Astarion turns your head toward him, catching your lips in a blistering kiss tinged with the coppery piquancy of your blood. His hips buck into you with a growl, and his hand veers toward your aching clit. You stop him short, grabbing his hand with a shudder.

“What are you doing?” You breathe against the needy, silken embrace of his mouth.

“You’ve been ever so generous,” he purrs. “Allow me to repay your charity in a language I speak proficiently.”

“No,” you break away from the kiss and his arms. Your head swims, bloodless and faint. Your heart hammers, trying to pump the blood no longer within your veins. You sway on your knees, and Astarion supports you with a hand on your shoulder lest you faceplant, “This isn’t a tit-for-tat offer, Astarion. There is no repayment. I am just one friend assisting another. That’s all.”

“I— You don’t want me?”

His genuine confusion encases your heart in a boiling bubble of sorrow, “You know I do, but not like this. I don’t want you if it’s compensation for my blood.”

“I’m sorry. It’s the only thing I know,” he looks bashful. If you didn’t know better, you would say he’s blushing, but that must be the rush of your blood through his veins. “Would you at least rest with me tonight while you're woozy? I will hear if anything untoward happens in camp, and I can protect both of us if need be.” He puts his hands up innocently, “I will keep my hands to myself. You have my word.”

“Do you think--" you trail off, bringing your hand to your forehead that seems to beat in time with your angry heart and groan. “That is to say— Could we —“

“Good Gods, sweetheart,” he chuckles. “Spit it out already before you lose consciousness. I did not take that much.”

Your arms drop by your sides, and you giggle with him, suddenly lethargic, “Never mind. I’ll sleep over here.”

“Now, who is being positively dumb,” he scoffs, clicking his tongue at you. “If you want to cuddle, you have but to ask. You know I do rather like cuddling with you.”

“If you know what I want,” you huff, rolling your eyes. “Why are you making a spectacle out of me?!”

“Entertainment,” he shrugs, laughing carefree and alight with humour.

“You’re terrible,” you mutter.

“I know,” he smirks, lying back and extending his arms, twitching his fingers in the come-hither motion. “Come on, love. Let’s have a cuddle, shall we?” 

The bath water has turned cold by the time your eyes slide back open. You’re still lying at the bottom of the tub, in a watery grave like a sunken ship. How long have you been in here? Once your brain recognizes that you haven’t taken a breath in what could be hours, instinct takes over, and you propel yourself upright, coughing, sputtering, and gulping down the air furiously.

You scoff at yourself with antipathy. How long will it take for these responses to abate? When will your body just accept that you’re fucking dead?

Wrapping a plush towel around yourself, you listen for the comforting thud of Astarion’s heart but are only met with tomblike silence. It frightens you, making your stomach feel aflutter in your abdomen, reminding you of the Gur attack when you thought you lost him.

You slip into a long-sleeved, purple dress and tentatively peek outside. The velveteen embrace of twilight has cloaked the sky, but the cloud cover is thick, eclipsing the moonlight. You can smell the rain before the heavens have decided to cry. Reaching out to the bond, Astarion does not answer your call.

Fuck this.

You trot through the street, smelling the air. You wince with every step as the injury to your ankle smarts, but the bruising is already receding. It will not be long until it’s healed.

Unfortunately for you, the streets are still relatively busy, and your bloodlust is ever-present and a daunting task to control as you swerve and juke around people. Your mouth waters, and you shake your head like a wet dog to rid yourself of the smog that dampens and threatens to dwarf your self-restraint. The rain starts to drizzle, just as you predicted. The drops plane down your face, and you curse the skies because the scent of the rainfall on the dry stone of the street hampers your ability to detect much else.

You arrive at Wyrm's Crossing and follow the strong scent of blood outside a structure you are familiar with - the flophouse where Astarion's siblings were. The building is ominously dark and far too quiet. You sniff the air. It tastes almost bitter on your tongue, and it’s hard to focus on anything but the metallic richness, but you vaguely make out notes of rosemary and bergamot. You try to open the door, but it’s locked. Locks are hardly a challenge. You cast Knock and crack the door open. The fragrance of blood wafts so thickly in the air that you swear you almost see technicolour as you swoon.

It’s pitch-black inside, and your feet immediately come into contact with a stiff, cold mass on the floor, tripping you. Fire bursts to life in your palm, and mutilated bodies greet the illumination with milky eyes. Some have their intestines spilling out of their abdomens like gooey red ribbons. Others are missing the bottom of their jaw with their meaty tongues lolling out. These people were not just merely killed. They were brutalized, mutilated, and mauled.

A thick slick of congealing blood sloshes around your boots. It drips off the ceiling and down the walls like scarlet raindrops shed from dark skies, softly signifying sorrow's sharp sting. If your heart had not already hardened to macabre scenes like this, you imagine you would be sick. Instead, true to the monster you’ve become, it takes considerable effort not to drop to your knees and start lapping up the sanguine nectar like some thirsty mutt.

You are veritably shaking under the duress of temptation as you crawl over bodies to the one heartbeat that remains. Astarion sits at a table in an alcove in the back with a bottle of spirits clutched in his hand, several more littered around his feet on the floor. He stares abstractly at nothing, a million miles away, bleak and cold.

“Astarion…” you whisper, trying to get a decent look into his eyes.

“Darling?” His brows round when he looks at you, frowning and narrowing his glossy eyes. “You are afraid. Oh, no-no. Don’t be afraid. I didn’t mean to…” He’s confused, and it breaks your heart. “I killed them all, but I don’t remember. I am me now. I’m me - Astarion.”

“I know,” you purr, noticing that he seems to have to remind himself of who he is. “It’s okay.”

“Okay?” He scoffs, bringing the bottle to his lips and tilting his head back. He sways in his chair, causing it to creak, “This is about as far from okay as it gets. Did you not hear me? I killed them. I killed all of them.”

“I heard you,” you cradle his cheek and walk his gaze away from the body he seems fixed on. “We need to go home, Astarion. Before somebody finds us here.”

“Why?” He snaps, gesturing around with a satirical chuckle, “I will probably just kill them too. Or perhaps I will simply compel them to forget their names or their entire lives. Why stop there? How far do you think my power goes? Do you think I could compel them to forget how to breathe?”

“Astarion, please,” you slip the bottle from his fingers and crouch with your hand on his thigh. “Come with me.”

“I hurt you again today,” he sighs, staring at his empty hand with furrowed brows. “How do you sleep with me in the same residence? The same bed? How can you even stand to look at me? Gods. You must fucking hate me.”

“I don’t hate you,” you cannot help the tears pricking your eyes. He looks lost as his eyes roam aimlessly, climbing toward the ceiling. “I love you.”

“You love me… Do you regret it?” He whispers, curling his empty hand into a fist repeatedly as if he’s unsure if the hand he’s looking at belongs to him, “Helping me complete the Rite, allowing me to turn you, falling in love with me.”

“No,” your answer is immediate, and the uncompromising intonation surprises even you. “The only thing I regret is that we did not know enough about the Rite.”

“You’re lying,” he concludes, hollow, distant, and abject.

“Open the bond and check my truthfulness if you wish,” you retort. Your whole body shakes as you try to make sense of this broken man before you, “I wanted to be with you for eternity. Everything has a cost. I paid it willingly.”

“Do you know why I turned you?” He asks, face contorting with an anguish you did not believe you would ever see adorn his features again. The corners of his mouth are downturned, eyebrows dropping at the ends, “Do you know why I was so adamant that this was the only way our relationship could continue?”

“I don’t know, Astarion,” you sigh soft and sullen. “I don’t care. What’s done is done.”

“Tell me!” He snarls, slamming his fist into the table and cracking it down the middle, “Tell me why you think I did it! Tell me why you think I fucking killed you!”

You finally relent and sob openly. “Why do you do anything now, Astarion? You wanted to possess me, control me, own me, and make me your obedient puppet.”

“No, my love,” he heaves a tremulous sigh, shaking his head. His eyes are vacant and unseeing, blinking slowly. “Nothing so sinister as that. I was afraid. I was still fucking afraid. I knew you would age and die while I remained the same forever. You would leave me alone again, and I feared a world, a life, without you. I took your life and bound you to me for eternity for no other reason than selfishness, but I always was remarkably selfish. Wasn’t I?” Astarion gazes around at the grisly affair of his making, “Why can’t I remember? I am sick. Aren’t I?”

“We will save you,” you slip your finger under his chin like he’s done to you so often and direct his gaze to yours. Your eyes blister with resolve, and your voice bleeds the same, trying to fill him with strength, “But I need you to keep fighting, Astarion. You must not give up.”

“For you,” he murmurs as his eyes finally appear cognizant. Astarion slides out of his chair, descending to his knees before you like you made you do a lifetime ago, and wraps his arms around you. He presses his cheek against your stomach and whimpers, fingers curling into your clothes. “I will fight to my last, my love.”

Sunlight filters into the window, golden rays bathing the room as your eyes flutter open. You nuzzle against the silk pillowcase before your mind bombards you with memories of your skin loosening, dripping, cracking, and the agony that arrested even screams from your throat. You nearly leap off the bed in terror, but solid arms wrap around your waist, pulling your back against the strong muscles of a warm chest.

“It’s okay,” Astarion purrs, grappling with your trashing. He places a soft kiss on your shoulder. “I am here. The sun cannot harm you. I’ve got you, sweetheart.”

It takes your still hazy consciousness a moment to accept the promise of safety before you relax in his embrace with a sigh and roll over to face Astarion, looping your arms around him and burying your face in the crook of his neck. You can smell his blood pumping through his veins just below the surface of that pristine, silken skin, and your mouth waters. Your body urges you to bite, stomach knotting into cramps with the promise of that aromatic, richly decadent blood.

So close.

Before you know what you’re doing, your mouth is open, fangs hovering, and your body seizes. Astarion laughs genuinely, such a sparkling, airy rumble from his perfect lips as they pull into a smile against your cheek.

“Well, good morning to you, too.” He giggles, pushing you away, shaking his head with that playful glower, “Can’t get enough? I’m not surprised.” Astarion sinks his fangs into the fanning veins of his wrist and holds it out to you. “Remember, no biting and mind your teeth.”

You’re almost drooling at the oneiric vision of the weeping wounds. The scent of his blood is intoxicating - warm, full-bodied ferrous. The bright red drink of the Gods is a stark contrast to his pale skin, and it takes everything you have in you not to lunge for it. The offer of his blood is new and a little unsettling if you’re being honest.

“Go ahead,” his eyes dart to his dribbling wrist, brows furrowing at your hesitation. “This is no trick. Feed.”

He looks contrite, but there is a new tenderness in the way his eyes are fixed on you like you are shelter from the storm brewing behind his scarlet irises. You cannot handle it any longer. You take his wrist as gently as your fumbling fingers can possibly manage in your near frenzied bloodlust, bringing your lips to the wound. It tastes even better straight from his body, and your eyes roll back with a moan as you focus with a substantial amount of effort on drawing in slow, measured sips instead of trying to drain him dry in an instant.

“That’s enough,” Astarion instructs eventually, tugging his wrist just slightly. You could never get enough of this ambrosia on your tongue, descending into your stomach and making your nerves combust with delight. Your grip tightens on his wrist, and you growl at him, low and throaty.

“Hells,” Astarion groans pleasurably, eyes rolling back. His body trembles with excitement and pleasure. He enjoys this as much as you. He shakes his arm roughly and commands a little more harshly this time. “Love. I said that’s enough. Don’t be a greedy thing now.”

It’s enough to crack the haze that’s fallen over your mind, and you throw yourself from back, detaching from his wrist with panicked breaths. You’re sure when you look at him again, you will be staring at the embodiment of Mephistopheles psychosis, “I’m sorry, Astarion. I’m sorry.”

“Hey-hey,” Astarion coos deeply, like a warm auditory hug on a cold winter’s night. “It’s alright. I’m not angry.”

“You’re not?” You cannot help the stain of surprise that blooms in your voice.

“No, love,” he chuckles, his fingers pressing into your waist, encouraging you to cuddle, and you curl up against his side. He sweeps his thumb across your lower lip, gathering the blood smeared on it and pops it into his mouth with a sly grin. “I was a young vampire too, once upon a century, and I was certainly over-enthusiastic with my consumption of you the first time. It takes time. I can help you with it. We can practice like this.”

Your brows furrow, creasing as you try to think through the residual film of mist. This man is entirely too perplexing. It feels like you’re always trying to run from him, convincing yourself that everything is a trick, that you must be on guard at all times so you don’t get close, but is this just a way for you to hide from what you fear most of all - that you will be unable to save him, and you will lose him all over again.

There’s just no fucking time for this anymore. There is no more time to lose.

Astarion directs your gaze to him, “What’s going on in that beautiful mind?”

“Do you remember what you said last night?”

Astarion’s brows round, and the corners of his eyes crinkle, “Yes.”

“Was any of it real?” You murmur, pushing yourself upright so you can look at him. You request the bond, and Astarion and you unite, transcending time and space, melding together. It takes you a moment to gather yourself, “Or were you just drunk?”

“I meant every word.” Astarion turns suddenly serious, sitting and sagging against the headboard, “I wish to speak to you about something.”

“Are you okay?”

“I am fine.” He combs his fingers through his hair, “You called me Master. I do not wish you to call me that - think of me in those terms. Is that how you see me? As your… ugh,” he casts his eyes to the ceiling, “Master ?”

“No,” you snap, but it’s a lie, and you know it, which means he knows it through the union. You backpedal, “Yes. It is what you are, Astarion. Whether you or I like it, I am your spawn, and you are my master. This is just reality. It will do us no good to pretend that the dynamic of our relationship is different.”

Disappointment slashes across the bond like a blade cutting into your heart. It’s so strong that it physically aches in your chest, and you splay your hand across it and whimper.

Astarion shakes his head, eyes downcast, “I do not want to be your master, little love. I never did. I did not make you a regular spawn.”

“I’m not sure I follow, Astarion. What do you mean you didn’t make me a regular spawn? What other kind of spawn is there?”

Astarion squeezes his eyes shut momentarily, taking a deep breath, the muscles in his jaw twitching. He leans, opens a drawer and produces a book that looks ancient. Its cover is dulled by timeless centuries, and its spine is broken with loose pages precariously tucked in. His fingers tap the book, staring at it as if he dreads what he’s about to do.

He gives you a skeptical sideways look and passes you the book, “Page 152.”

Opening the book, you flip through the musty, yellowed pages until you reach page 152, titled “The Dark Kiss.” You scan the page, reading it once, twice, three times while Astarion stares at you with an unreadable expression. You can feel him in your head, looking through your eyes, thrusting into the folds of your mind, penetrating the softness of your soul, caressing your most intimate thoughts.

There’s trepidation in him. Your soul practically quivers under the weight of his unease. He is afraid of your reaction, and the entity within him is stoking those glowing embers of worry with its babbling breaths of affirmations, trying to ignite an inferno of fear that will melt through the shackles of his control.

“You need to explain this to me, Astarion,” you gawk at him, swallowing thickly as the information slowly sinks in. You’re unsure if the nervousness making your stomach warp is truly yours or his.

“I made you my bride – consort,” he does not look at you when he speaks. His eyes stare blankly at his twitching fingers. “How many times did I bite you that night?”

“Uh,” you squeeze your eyes shut, trying to recall the memory fogged over from blood loss, “Three. Once when we had sex, once on my wrist, and then my neck.”

Astarion nods, “I don’t remember much from that night, high as I was on the power of 7000 souls, but I do recall my intent. I bit you three times, as described in the book you’re holding, and then gave you my own blood. I told you this bond was unique to you and me because it’s only shared with a bride.”

“I’m sorry.” You rack your fingers through your hair, tousling it into an incomprehensible mess to match your whirling, tangled thoughts, “Are you trying to tell me that we are - what? Vampire married?”

Astarion smirks at the bewilderment adorning your face but looks bashful, “I suppose that’s an accurate description, yes.”

“And you declined to tell me this until now because?”

“Honestly?” Astarion’s eyes drift once again to the ceiling, “I meant to. I had every intention of telling you the truth, and then... I enjoyed the power, the superiority I had over you. I saw fear in your eyes when you looked at me, and I liked it. I liked you believing you were nothing. I wanted to revel in it. It fed the sickness within, and then I was... lost for a while.”

“What does this mean for me exactly?” It takes incredible effort to keep the rising panic from your voice.

Astarion’s eyes widen as your whirlwind of terror is added to the mixture of emotions between you, “It means you’re not quite a spawn, not quite a True Vampire, but as close as one could get while still being bound to me and under my control should I choose to exert it over you. I believe it can be reversed, should you wish it so. I’d have to do a little research--”

“No!” you blurt out in a yelping retort that makes Astarion flinch. He assumes your anxiety is due to being bound to him in such a way, you realize. The truth of it is your panic is a shadow looming over the increasingly dire odds of everything you stand to lose.

A friend. A lover. A partner. A... husband?

You smirk at the notion, pushing away that worry - you have time to worry later. Right now, you want to enjoy this. It’s the closest you have gotten to Astarion telling you he loves you. Perhaps, the closest you will ever get, and some sad speck of your soul laps at that wound and dabs it with this new information as if it might cure the incurable.

“Well,” you shift into his lap, leaning into the asylum he’s promising you through the bond, “I’m definitely going to start calling you husband now. I hope you’re prepared for that.”

“HA!” Astarion giggles, shaking his head with an endearingly lop-sided grin. His unkempt silver curls fall and bounce carelessly, “But of course. I can deny you nothing, wife. I wish to try and undo what he,” he corrects himself. “…I did - your name. I might be able to reverse it, but I’m not entirely sure how. You need to trust me, and I can feel you do not.”

You’re a little bemused that there is something Astarion doesn’t know how to do, and you grin at him, your fangs peeking out of your lips.

“Good Gods,” he rolls his eyes at you with a heartwarming smirk. “I am all-powerful, not all-knowing. Compelling is instinctive. Releasing it is another story entirely.”

You want to trust him. Gods above, you long to trust him like you used to, but how can you, given what you know? You wrench on the tide of the bond, causing it to spill and break over you as ocean waves crash upon boulders that dare protrude from its surface. You scour the chords of the harmony, picking them apart note by note, feeling for any sign of manipulation, deceit, or ill intent. Astarion flinches, squeezing his eyes shut with a wheeze, but he does not attempt to stop your search. You find nothing, but then again, he is the Vampire Ascendant. If he wants to hide something from you, he will.

If you want to get your name back, you have little choice.

“Do it,” you confirm.

“Look into my eyes,” Astarion purrs in a deep baritone. “Remember, I don’t know exactly what I’m doing.”

Bringing your eyes to his, the crimson in his eyes sparks alive, like little matches aglow in the red sea, and you have never seen sparks quite so beautiful.

The sensation starts mellow, like the flow of a calm spring, as it trickles through your mind. It feels like liquid fingers whispering against your psyche. The sensation makes your skin prickle, and goosebumps erupt all over. You want to shudder, but your body cannot move. Tributaries branch off and stream until your whole brain feels like it is being grasped by a hand.

And that’s where the pain begins in a sudden influx, a steely, jarring stab, and it feels like his fingers are in your brain, parting every crimp, crease, bend and wrinkle like you are a tome to be read. You’re unsure how long you can take this as he picks your mind apart, looking for whatever compulsion does. You manage to let out a whine, and his eyes flick.

“I know it hurts,” he soothes. “Just a little more, I think. Can you hold on?”

You can only whimper your response. You’re not sure if it sounds like a no or a yes. He continues his dismantling forage, ferreting around in your mind. Suddenly, something changes. All those tributaries and calm, flowing springs snap into one spot, and white-hot pain blooms in your eyesight, blinding you. You’re positive he’s cutting a piece of brain matter right out of your skull. You want to writhe, to scream, to beg him to stop, but you cannot.

You wonder if you might pass out, and then you hope you pass out as the pain becomes more than you can bear. Sharp, like a red-hot blade, has punctured your skull, pierced your brain, and is now broiling against your grey matter. Your vision starts to tunnel, black borders encroaching, blurring everything but the glow from Astarion’s eyes.

Just as you think you're going to lose consciousness, a knot untangles, an invisible barrier crumples, and the bondage on your body eases.

“Hey,” Astarion jostles you, fingers brushing sweaty strands of hair behind your ear. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” you breathe shakily. “It’s fine. Did it work?”

“I think so?” Astarion rubs the back of his head. “There’s only one way to know for sure. Do you remember your name?”

You think hard, trying to pull it from the deepest recesses of your memories, but you can’t remember it. “No.” You sigh, “Can you say it to me?”

“Illyria?” 

Big thank you for everyone who takes the time to read/reblog/comment, and all the other magnificent things. As always, please enjoy ☺️

AO3 [Crossposted]

Master List of Chapters: Fangs and Fractured Hearts

If you're interested I write another fic with Spawn Astarion x Tav called - Shadows of the Past

Small Notes:

Yay! Tav can hear her name, but does she actually remember it?

I'm leaning into the "Dark Kiss" bride/consort theory because why not?

#ascended astarion #astarion fanfic #bg3 #bg3 astarion #astarion x you #astarion #bg3 fanfiction #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion smut #astarion x oc #astarion x named tav #fangs and fractured hearts

[zuhamuses]

♡ " A mess "

Pairing: Jude Jazza x Kate (MC)

CW: lots of cursing + jealous jude!! (Tho it isn't much of a warning, lol.)

Note: My 2nd entry for @judejazza 's event!! I hope everyone likes this Jude fic <3 divider & header by the lovely @natimiles

Jude's eyes followed her figure as soon as she entered the dining room. Her smile lacked its usual cheerfulness, and her eyes looked sad.

That expression of Kate's broke something inside of him. This wasn't the first time she was wearing that look. Of course. She was living in a castle with cursed people, but Jude knew that wasn't why she looked so down.

Jude clicked his tongue in annoyance, but his eyes quickly looked her over... making sure she was doing physically well... that she wasn't harmed. He quickly looked away.

He was pissed. Very fucking pissed if he had to be honest. Whatever they both had going on was messing with both his head and heart. Jude Jazza was smart, but he couldn't find it in himself to put a name to their "relationship."

When she got hurt, he had wanted to kill all of those people right then and there. Her smile brought a strange sense of calm over him. She was beautiful -- fuck. Shit. He mentally cursed himself and faced her.

"How was yer date?" He basically spat the words out with that sadistic grin on his face.

Kate huffed and narrowed her eyes, looking angry. "Why are you looking so smug, Jude?"

He barked out a laugh, leaning back on the chair. "Smug? Whatcha talkin' about, Princess?"

"Do you take pleasure in seeing me hurt?"

Jude looked at her straight in the eye. "Ya should have the answer to that already."

Her face was red. Kate was fuming. The earlier hints of sadness from her expression were all gone.

"Why do you even care? Huh?" She questioned him, crossing her arms over her chest.

"I don't fuckin' care." Jude replied, expression mirroring hers.

"Then you shouldn't act like you do. Even if he didn't come to the spot--"

He threw the newspaper in front of him, a little too aggressively.

"Then ya will agree to meet that fucker again? Even if he stood ya up two times already? Princess, do ya have any self-respect?"

Kate gasped. "Jude! Just what is your problem? I don't get it!"

Shit. He messed up. Her eyes were filled with tears and... he was the cause. Jude mentally laughed at himself. He was warning Kate about a guy while he was the worst of them all. Surely, the Princess deserves better.

He took slow strides towards her. "Do ya like him?"

"... What?"

"That lousy fucker who can't even show up on a date, and stood ya up twice."

"That's none of your concern."

He took slow strides towards her, but Kate wasn't moving back. She stood still in her place, curious to see what he was going to do. Her eyes were fixed on him, studying his every expression and movement. Kate's eyes were shining as always, but she had changed so much...

She turned even more beautiful.

"He doesn't deserve ya. Ya are wastin' too much of your time." He said nonchalantly, bending down slightly to meet her eyes. "Or do ya like bein' stood up?"

"I can't understand you, Jude Jazza..." Kate breathed out, eyes narrowing once again in fury. "You push me away, say harsh things, then act like you care about me. Just what do you want?"

He clicked his tongue, and they both kept staring at each other. They weren't able to break eye contact, or they just didn't want to. Jude wondered... just what was she actually thinking?

He reached out to wipe a tear that had escaped from her eye. His hand was rough from his line of work, but his touch was gentle.

Kate's reddened cheeks, her big eyes filled with curiosity, her laughter and giggles, the way she would listen to him, and how she had tried to keep him safe during missions... that was all so precious to Jude.

"He can't treat ya good, ya dummy." He said softly.

Kate was silent for a while, but then she spoke in an equally soft voice.

"If he can't... then can you? What are you implying, Jude...?"

His expression as he looked at Kate was so gentle, so soft. There was no sarcasm in his voice as he replied, "Yeah, if ya don't trust my words, then wanna test it out?"

He chuckled upon seeing her flustered and surprised expression. Yeah... he wouldn't trade her for the world...

#☆ musings ☆ #ikevil x reader #ikevil imagines #ikemen villains #jude x reader #ikevil jude #invitation2crowncc

[pepsiboyy]

HEARTSTRINGS. - p1

masterlist ⚜ p2

pairing: chris sturniolo x fem!reader summary: after moving to massachusetts from florida, y/n lives with her half brother, nathan doe, who is part of a small garage band. their sassy guitarist, chris sturniolo, can't help but get on her nerves. but there's something about him. warnings: use of y/n lol, mentions of drugs, cursing a/n: rewrote the FUCK out of this, i hope this one is SO MUCH BETTER. love u guys. <3

"chris?"

"phone charger girl!"

"the fuck is he doing here?" my voice boomed in the garage, causing nathan to flinch slightly.

"woah, you two know each other?"

"sort of." chris responded with that stupid smug smirk on his face.

"not at all, actually." i responded quickly, immediately shutting down chris' disgusting expression.

my heartbeat was racing. i couldn't feel anything but anger in every fiber of my being. i couldn't help but remember to myself earlier today.

i had been living in massachusetts for about three days now. very interesting place, very different from florida.

after my mom's drug addiction became a major issue, cps was informed and i was sent to my dad's in boston, where i was completely unfamiliar with everyone and everything.

my dad's side, they weren't complete strangers if checking his status on facebook counted as being close.

shortly after i was born, my mom took me and left my dad in boston while we fled to live in florida. and as i get older, i can't help but feel more hatred towards the woman. my dad was a great guy, never deserved the way she treated him. he definitely did not deserve his first child being ripped away from his grasp a few months into my life.

when my mom and i moved to florida, my dad met another woman and had a child with her, whose name is nathan.

he seems like a really cool guy, an awesome brother to have, so i was looking forward to this move a lot, more than i probably should have.

the feeling of fresh air was appealing to me and the feeling of finally being there to reassure my dad that i want to be with him was even more exciting to me.

nate and i clicked pretty quickly, talking about our music taste on the way home from the airport. we talked a lot about video games, and he told me he was involved in a small garage band and plays the drums.

"that's so fucking cool!" i exclaimed with a bright smile, and nathan nodded.

"yeah! we mostly do covers now, but i plan on releasing some new and original music soon."

i nodded as i stayed focused on nate as he spoke, playing with my hands in my lap nervously.

the fact that this kid was my brother was so mind blowing to me. i couldn't wait.

the doe family had left to go to an event they had only bought three tickets for. i reassured them over and over that i was okay with staying at the house and continuing to settle in. and with that they left.

i dug through my bag and frowned when i came to a tragic realization.

"fuck." i cursed under my breath as i stood up and slid on my shoes.

time to go to that one gas station down the street we stopped at on the way here from the airport.

i left the house through the front door and slid my earbuds into my ears, playing my favorite playlist as i walked down the street.

boston was a lot more close together than florida. it genuinely made my heart happy.

about fifteen minutes into my walk and i find the gas station, pulling the door opened and look at the employee at the counter, smiling faintly to greet him. his eyes were glued to his phone though, so i turned to make my way up and down the aisles and look for the phone charger that works for my phone.

"eighteen dollars is fucking bizarre." i muttered under my breath at the charging brick box that i now have between my fingers. i carefully took it off the bar and grabbed a six ft long cord, making my way to the counter.

this is great. no job, new place, and i was already burning a hole into my savings for a fucking phone charger.

i set the two boxes on the counter and began digging through my pockets to find my wallet, the boxes hitting the counter a little harder than i had intended.

"woah there, sensing some aggression from 'ya. boyfriend start an argument with you or what?"

i finally found my wallet, but my eyes shifted quickly to the boy at the counter. "excuse me?" i asked, my face flushed at the thought. "it doesn't-" i blinked a few times. this kid was insane. "just ring me out please." i sighed as i inserted my card in the cardreader.

"relax sweetheart, just yankin' your chain." he stated defensively, skipping through the prompts on his screen. his hair was a little longer than average, and fairly wavy. he had a silver cuban link bracelet on one wrist and a few small handmade ones on the other, a ring or two on each hand. he had silver hoops in his ears and a plain black t-shirt on over his blue baggy jeans.

i stared at him in disbelief before i put my pin into the pad, yanking out my card as soon as it beeped and quickly shoving it into my wallet. chris set the charger boxes into a small plastic bag, placing it on the counter between us.

"i'm not your sweetheart," i narrowed my eyes at the nametag on his shirt, sucking in through my teeth, "chris."

i gripped the bag and left the gas station, and never turned back to see chris with his arms raised, and that disgusting smirk on his face.

my music was playing extra loud in my headphones in a desperate attempt to drown out the sound of nate slamming the drums in the garage.

i carefully sat up, my hand moving to run through my hair as i slipped on my shoes and stepped down the stairs. i was just wearing some pajama shorts and an oversized hoodie, but who even cares, right?

my hair was thrown into a messy bun, and i had one earbud in as my eyes were glued to my phone. i turned the doorknob to the garage carefully before stepping in and lifting my head as the music came to a halt.

and with that, my eyes widened.

and that's how we got here. with a finger pointed to my face.

"the fuck is he doing here?" my voice boomed in the garage, causing nathan to flinch slightly.

"woah, you two know each other?"

"sort of." chris responded with that stupid, smug smirk on his face.

"not at all, actually." i immediately barked back, crossing my arms.

nate looked between us both and shrugged it off quickly before he pulled a chair beside him. "come listen, y/n. i think you'd like it a lot." he told me.

i couldn't say no. i really was curious to hear nathan play. "okay, sure. just for a bit though." i reminded him of the time, and he smiled brightly and sat down in his seat.

i felt chris' eyes burning into the back of my head the whole time, his shaggy brunette locks perfectly draping over his forehead, which was a bit damp, while his eyes shifted to focus on his guitar again.

nate turned to me with a bright smile, grabbing his drumsticks as he glanced to the other two, making sure they were ready.

i watched the three and smiled as they began playing.

they were really good, actually.

better than i had expected them to be.

with nathan slamming the drums with his drumsticks and the boy i didn't know yet playing the bass, chris actually knocked his part out of the park.

chris glanced up for half a second, where we locked eyes. my eyes widened as he turned back to his guitar and a small smile grew on his face.

i hate this kid.

the song came to an end, and i turned to nathan, applauding happily.

"you guys sound great, genuinely. have you guys worked on any original stuff?"

nathan chuckled and shrugged, glancing between the other two. "a bit. chris writes phenomenal lyrics. we're working on it."

i glanced to chris for a moment, who was now gently strumming the strings of his guitar. i gulped as i stared at his hands, then turned back to nate. "i'm excited for you guys. let me know if i can do anything to help?"

nate nodded happily, and i stood up.

"alright, i'm gonna try and go to sleep. good luck to you guys." i waved at the three, and smiled at nate, my eyes quickly glancing at chris who waved softly back, no clear expression on his face anymore.

and with that, i opened the garage door and shut it, before taking a deep sigh and leaning against it.

"dude, you didn't tell me your sister was bad as hell," an unfamiliar voice rang, which i assumed was the bassist.

"wh- ben, gross! shut up dude," nathan quickly stated.

i cringed at the boy's comment, shaking my head quickly as if he could see me responding or something.

"invite her more often." chris stated blankly, standing up from his seat as he adjusted his guitar strap.

nathan turned to chris and narrowed his eyes.

i quickly stood up and made my way back to my bedroom, laying flat against the bed and turning up the music playing in my earbuds.

chris playing guitar and writing some lyrics.

it made me genuinely curious about whether or not this guy actually wrote good lyrics.

i hated being curious about him.

but i needed to know more.

masterlist ⚜ p2

comment to be added to taglist!! taglist;; @sturnioloshacker

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