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littlejuicebox · 1 year ago

Text

Mermaid whiskey.

Pairing: Spawn Astarion x F!Reader/Tav Summary/Setting: 2 weeks after BG3 final battle, Elfsong Tavern / Astarion has been ignoring you and spending too much time reading for your tastes, you aim to distract him. Rating/Warnings: M+ / Smut / Light BDSM / Soft Dom Astarion vibes / Some mild in game spoilers/allusions to events / Overstimulation, Teasing, Bondage, Blindfolding etc Word Count: 4.3K Notes: Tequila Makes Her Clothes Fall Off x Whiskey Girl

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Two weeks after the final battle, Astarion is lounging by the crackling fireplace on the upper level of the Elfsong Tavern, a large goblet of red wine in one hand and a book in the other.

Everyone else spent time after the battle exploring the city or downstairs drinking and celebrating their victory as they all prepared to move onto new adventures. But Astarion had chosen nearly every opportunity over the past two weeks to hang back and enjoy some much-deserved alone time. Now that the constant worries about Cazador and the overall impending doom of Baldur’s Gate were all behind him, the rogue threw himself into finding bits of individual enjoyment whenever and wherever he could. He'd fixated himself on hobbies and leisure, and reading had seemed an obvious first choice. He'd easily idle hours away, sometimes reading an entire book cover to cover in one sitting.

Often, you would sit with the elf as he read, snuggled in a blanket or cuddled up against your love, but eventually you always got the urge to get up and do something else. You'd tried on more than one occasion to interest the rogue in another activity, but Astarion remained glued to the couch for those two weeks, barely stepping away to hunt, bathe, or trance. You'd noted, with a bit of concern, that he hadn't even asked to feed on you in more than a tenday.

Tonight, you’d tried more than once to pull him down to the tavern, but the elf quickly refused, barely lifting his eyes from the pages in front of him. Astarion seemed particularly obsessed with this book; you were almost convinced he’d already finished it and had started a second reading.

Several hours passed while you socialized down at the bar and Astarion's perfect nose stayed wedged in a book before a very tipsy Karlach decided to climb the stairs and speak to the vampire. “Oi! C’mon, Astarion! Close that dusty tome and join the fun. We’ll all only be together for a few more days. Me, Lae’zel, Shadowheart, and Tav are taking shots!”

The vampire’s ears perk up and he furrows his brow at the woman, snapping his book shut in the process. “Shots? Of what, exactly?”

“Mermaid Whiskey!”

“Oh no. Oh no, no, no! Karlach! Mermaid Whiskey practically makes Tav’s clothes fall off!”

Astarion is on his feet now, the book abandoned as he rushes past the Tiefling and down the flight of stairs into the tavern. He quickly spots the silky blue bandana you use to tie your hair up at camp strewn upon a forgotten bar stool. Knowing it’s possibly your most prized article of clothing, the elf tucks it into his back pocket. Scarlet eyes perform a hurried scan of the room and the vampire bristles when you’re nowhere to be found.

The others are still at the bar, where Lae’zel just challenged a bartender to an arm-wrestling competition. The women warriors are cheering Lae’zel on as she’s locked in a stalemate with the man.

“Shadowheart, have you seen Tav?”

Shadowheart barely acknowledges the vampire, too engrossed in the show. “What do you mean? She’s right—“ Her gaze flicks to the abandoned stool as Lae’zel successfully slams the worker’s hand onto the sticky bar, causing the campmates and some other patrons to erupt into cheers. “She was right there a moment ago.”

Astarion runs a stressed hand through his curled hair, inspecting the room for any sign of you. Soon enough, he spots a familiar pair of shoes and hurries to them, eyes already searching for the next clue. A discarded earring floating in a glass of half-drunk whiskey is sat on the bottom step of the stairs. That hadn’t been there when he descended down them, had it?

The vampire’s gaze trails up the stairwell and his suspicions are confirmed. Your navy-blue dress is draped across the back of an armchair he can barely see from his low vantage point.

‘She must’ve snuck around when I was talking to Shadowheart.’

The rogue dashes up the stairs to find you reclined on a chaise lounge, body flushed from the whiskey coursing through your veins. You are strewn suggestively across the chaise, clothed in only your laced undergarments and thigh high stockings. The alluring vision caused Astarion's heart to leap into his throat.

“Darling, what on earth do you think you’re you doing? You’re barely clothed in the middle of the tavern. This isn’t the wilds anymore.”

You’re lying on your side when Astarion finds you, and you pout in his direction as he scolds you, waving a dismissive hand. You roll onto your stomach, bending your knees and crossing your legs. You’re pleased to see the vampire's gaze drag down your body, pausing at the curve of your bottom, before flitting back to your face. Astarion licks his lips as he looks at you, the first sign that your little plan is working. You’ve finally gotten his attention after trying to steal him away from that damned book he was so enamored with all night.

“I know my love, but I’m just so unbelievably hot right now. You wouldn’t believe how hot I feel.”

Astarion quickly crosses the few feet between you two, placing a cool, concerned hand on your flushed cheek. “How many shots did you take?”

“Oh, just two. Maybe three? I kept losing the stupid ‘never have I ever game’ because everyone made all their questions about vampires.” You pout at your lover again before turning your head to press your lips against his thumb, lingering there intentionally, your wide eyes still focused on the rogue.

Astarion was no fool. With your mouth holding his thumb in that suggestive manner, he soon realized what you were doing. You adored the vampire with your entire heart, but on your drunken nights, you knew how to be a perfectly tempting, needy little brat. “And why, my sweet, did you keep playing the game if it was so clearly rigged against you?”

You groan, moving to a sitting position, while your hands toy with the laces of your bodice. “Because…” You sharply tug at the flouncy strings and Astarion’s hand catches yours in a tight grip, moments before you’re about to expose your breasts in the center of the lounge. “You’ve barely paid attention to me the past two weeks… and I was lonely and bored and wanted to have fun.”

“Darling, I know what you’re doing... I thought we agreed that tonight you’d go to the bar, and I would stay up here.” Astarion murmurs, nimble fingers toying with the strings of your bodice. He tries to resist the temptation to look down at your cleavage and fails; you see his eyes roll up in annoyance at himself and his inability to fight off his baser instincts in your presence. Inside you’re practically giddy that you’re winning the charade, but you keep the pout plastered to your face.

“We didn’t agree to anything, my Star. You didn't give me a choice.” You huff, pointedly brushing your hair away from your neck to reveal the little pinprick scars made by your lover. The rogue's eyes trail to the marks and he licks his lips again, suddenly quite aware of how long it’s been since he’s sunk his fangs into your flesh.

Gods you were frustrating. Astarion both loathed and loved that you could play him like a lyre; you knew him so well that you understood exactly what would make him tick. Every. Single. Time.

The vampire shakes his head, trying to rattle the fantasies out of his brain and not allow you the upper hand. You were being ridiculous; if you’d wanted attention, you should’ve just asked instead of acting out. Trying to turn the conversation, Astarion asks, “What is it you even like about whiskey? It’s vile.”

You sigh and roll your eyes before sliding off the chaise and sauntering away from the elf. For a moment you think he’s going to let you leave, but then he’s trailing after you like a lost puppy and you know you've got him hooked.

“Excuse me? You’re just going to walk away? Conversation over?”

You shrug and sigh again, stopping just in front of the door to your bedchamber. You turn to face the rogue, leaning back against the door and crossing your arms. Astarion’s eyes are narrowed as he stares at you with some level of frustration and incredulity at your antics.

“If you must know, I suppose I like a bit of edge… and a bit of pain with my pleasure.” Your voice is coy, eyebrow raised, and you're fully leaning into the innuendo of your statement. “And you like that I like it... don’t you?”

Astarion chuckles at this, a smirk ghosting his lips. “You are a wicked little thing, aren’t you? Using my own games and my own tactics against me now?”

You’re wearing a mischievous grin as the rouge saunters forward, closing the distance between your bodies. He firmly grasps your chin in his hand, scarlet eyes studying your face. Just as his lips brush against yours, and you're thinking you've won this little game, you murmur, “I guess the apprentice has become the master.”

Astarion pauses and draws back for a moment, the darkening of his gaze and his raised eyebrow causing you to shudder where you stand as he grips a bit tighter on your chin. “Oh darling. You’re cute. But now I think I have to teach you a lesson and remind you who the master truly is here.”

And then his lips are on yours, fangs clashing roughly into teeth. He feels for the knob behind you and turns it, forcing you both into the room before unceremoniously slamming the door closed. Your mouths are melded together as the vampire effortlessly guides you to the bed and shoves you into the mattress. Quick, pale hands tug at the strings of your bodice and your breasts are released from their confines, spilling out in front of the vampire’s eager gaze as he drags the undergarment off your arms and throws it aside.

Then Astarion grabs something from his back pocket — your blue bandana — and dangles it in front of you with a mock-condescending pout on his lips. All you can think about in that moment is how you want to take that pout into your own lips and bite.

“Darling, you left this downstairs and I had to retrieve it. I think I may need to teach you to take care of your belongings. You only have two of these, my love, and I know you would be so desperate to find them if they were permanently lost, wouldn’t you?”

You nod as you reach for your bandana, but Astarion is faster and pulls it away just in time, smirking at you all the while. “Come to think of it… where is your other bandana, my sweet?”

"It's in here." You murmur, lips already swollen from the rough kiss he'd pulled you into. You turn to the nightstand and withdraw your second bandana, an identical twin to the first. Astarion quickly takes it from your hand and grins mischievously, pressing a soft kiss to your lips as the silken fabric glides from your fingers.

“Good girl. Now, give me your hands.”

You oblige and the rogue deftly binds your wrists together with an expertly tied knot. He tugs at the bindings, testing their strength. Astarion lifts your hands to his lips and presses a kiss to the back of one before taking the second bandana and folding it into a long strip. Your eyes are fixated on his lithe fingers. Then he presses forward, face mere inches from yours. His eyes are dark and intense, but glimmering with adoration all the same, in a way that floods you with the overwhelming sensation of excitement and safety all in one.

“You’ll let me know if it’s too much, won't you, my love?”

“Y-yes.” You whisper, almost breathlessly and wholly impatient for what is coming next. Your body still burns with desire and Mermaid Whiskey. The last thing you see is Astarion’s eyes before the second bandana shrouds you in darkness.

Cool hands guide you to lay back onto the mattress and soon enough long, nimble fingers languidly trace their way down your body. You feel Astarion’s hands ghost over your arms, down your collarbone, and then trail circles around your breasts where he gives both nipples a gentle, teasing tug before moving on. His fingers brush your abdomen, around the curve of your hips, down the tops of your thighs, and finally to your calves. Then his lips press to your foot, and he works at pressing feather light kisses up your leg.

He continues kissing up your right leg for what seems like forever, fingers still moving tantalizingly along your calf and thigh. By the time the vampire makes his way back up to the top of your thigh, you are wiggling and keening in anticipation. He hovers over your still-clothed mound for a few beats before shifting slightly and returning to kissing down your left leg. You whine in disappointment, your bound hands straining against the fabric as you try to grip your lover. A dark chuckle is all you get in response as Astarion continues to kiss your opposing thigh, nibbling here and there, at a rate that seems somehow even slower than the first leg he worshipped.

By the time he’s placing a kiss to the top of your left foot, you’re writhing wholeheartedly, pressing your thighs together in an attempt to give yourself more stimulation. You don’t dare use your bound hands, knowing the punishment would be further binding and teasing. Astarion unhurriedly runs his hands up your legs once again, stopping to draw leisurely circles at the apex of your thighs before tracing one chilled finger along the waistband of your underwear.

“A-Astarion!” You choke out with another whine, just as the vampire runs that same finger down your still-clothed slit, feeling the wetness now soaking through the fabric from his torments.

Your lover chuckles in dark delight. “I’ve barely even touched you, my needy little love, and yet here you are, positively soaked. Your lesson is far from over, darling.”

There is a moment of silence apart from soft rustling; you cannot see anything, but your ears pick up the sound of Astarion’s buckle coming undone. And then you feel his weight on top of you. You can tell he’s still wearing his briefs as he presses his groin against your sex, legs straddling either side of your hips. Suddenly you feel a sharp pinch on both your nipples. Your back arches in response to the sensation while a pleading groan shoots from your mouth.

“Mm… I think you quite like that, don’t you?”

“Y-yes!” Is all you can reply as you feel Astarion's cold hands kneading the flesh of your breasts before he resumes pinching the swollen buds.

You try to buck your hips, but the bastard knows what he’s doing, and he’s got you pinned perfectly beneath him in a way that renders you all but helpless. Your bound hands search for Astarion’s body, and you barely graze against his abdominals before the vampire rips your hands away with a little tut, laying nearly all his body weight atop you as he raises your hands up over your head. You can feel his breath against your ear before he takes the lobe in his mouth and nibbles. Gods the torture was becoming unbearable. You buck again, another frustrated whine escaping your lips.

“Shhh now, darling. Shame we don’t have a third bandana or you would be gagged. We are quite impatient today, aren’t we?”

You whimper as he continues the abuse to your ear before trailing his tongue down to your neck. “My little whiskey girl…” His lips hover over that familiar little spot on your neck, his breath tickling your skin. Your pulse jumps to greet your lover. “May I?”

You barely nod, “Yes. Please.”

Astarion groans at your response, thrusting his hips forward to press his rock-hard bulge into your folds. You feel a sharp, icy sting in your neck before your body gives way to the delectable ripples of pleasure. The vampire laps from you lazily, rutting against your mound, the still-clothed underside of his cock sawing torturously between the folds of your still-clothed but now dripping slit. He continues suckling, not really drinking for sustenance but more for his own pleasure, his hardening member abusing your swollen clit. You’re keening again, and one of his hands moves to tease your nipple while the other gets lost in your hair, holding you in place as he takes his lazy laps.

“A-Astarion. Astarion! Please, I’m gonna—“

But before you can finish, you feel the wave of pleasure crashing over you and your legs are trembling as you find your release. The elf groans again as you orgasm, now suckling and rutting with more fervor as the taste of your ecstasy courses through your veins. When the crescendo wanes and you’re left panting, Astarion retracts his fangs from your neck with a pleased little hum.

Suddenly the bandana is pulled from your eyes, and you blink, adjusting to the light. The vampire is still straddling you, an arrogant smirk plastered across his face as he wipes the final rivet of blood from his mouth and licks it off his thumb. “Satisfied, darling? Have I paid enough attention to you now?”

You groan and buck your hips again, your drenched undergarments barely rubbing against the rogue’s stiff cock. “No!” You shriek as your bound hands pound back into the mattress.

Astarion’s lips are on yours anew, swallowing your protests as he delves his tongue into your eager mouth. You taste the iron of your own blood and groan, writhing against him and desperately pulling at your bindings. When the rogue pulls back he chuckles before easily delving two fingers inside your ruined undergarments, curling his fingers to barely strum against your swollen clit. You try to arch to meet his digits with a desperate, pleading moan, but the weight of him on your legs keeps you pinned, and you cry out.

“Please, please, please.” You whine in a soft chant coming from your lips, still using all of your strength to barely buck your hips. Your hands are twisting desperately in their bindings. “Please, please, please.”

“Such a needy little thing, aren’t you, my love?” He coos, continuing to barely tease your throbbing clit with expert fingers. “What is it that you want?”

“You know what I want!” You hiss through gritted teeth, your frustration bubbling over as the rogue torments that sensitive nub between your legs.

“Hmm… perhaps I do. But you need to ask for the things that you want, my sweet. The parasite is gone and I’m no mind reader.”

“Please put your cock inside me! Please.”

“Hmm... there we are. That’s my good girl. Now, was that really so hard, little love?"

Before you can answer, Astarion’s mouth is enveloping yours as he works to quickly remove his own undergarments. The feeling of his barren member on your mound renews your desperation and you keen into your lover's mouth, causing him to smirk into the kiss. He quickly maneuvers his knee to the inside of your thigh, hitching his own leg up to spread you wide, granting him full access to your sex. Deft fingers slide the thin, arousal-soaked cloth of your underwear aside and then you feel the head of his cock pressed just against your entrance.

“Who do you belong to, my love?” The vampire asks when he pulls away from the kiss, scarlet eyes peering into yours. He’s rocking his hips just slightly, the tip of his member barely teasing in and out of your desperate pussy. He brings his hand to the side of your face, stroking his thumb along your cheek.

“You, Astarion.” You whisper, so entranced by the look in his eyes and the feeling of his cock pressing into you that you can barely think or breath. You try to thrust down to meet your lover's miniscule ministrations, but his other hand has your hip pinned in place.

“Give me your hands again.”

You oblige, and the rogue quickly undoes your fastenings, gently pressing his lips into the angry red marks around your wrists. He takes one of your hands and interlaces your fingers in his. Astarion pins one hand back above your head, but allows you the freedom of the other hand, which you bring to the side of his neck.

Then the vampire kisses you once more. As his lips press into yours, his cock slides into your eagerly awaiting cunt. Every ripple of Astarion's thick shaft makes your body sing in delight, and you're groaning into the elf's mouth as he begins to make fervent love to you, hips snapping with vigor as he sheaths and unsheathes himself in a steady rhythm.

“You are… entirely infuriating… and vexing, sometimes. Do you know that, little love?” He purrs between his lips enveloping yours, tongue exploring your mouth. The vampire plunges into you with steady determination, slowly picking up his tempo.

You’re breathless, rolling your hips to meet the rogue’s. Your eyes are shut as you smirk at his comment. “I know.. I just think you’re so sexy when you’re frustrated.” You respond between panting breaths, and that earns you a rough thrust that hits your cervix and knocks the air from your lungs as you moan in surprise.

Astarion’s hand that isn’t intertwined with yours comes under your chin and takes a firm hold, pressing just enough on your windpipe to create the delicious feeling of breathlessness without actually preventing you from breathing. Your eyes snap open from the sensation.

“You. Are. A. Naughty. Girl.” He hisses, eyes boring into your own, face mere inches from yours, and each word punctuated by another forceful snap of his hips. You moan at the feeling of his length slamming into your cervix. By this time, he’s panting and the flush on his ears is rising, and you know he’s close to his own release. One of Astarion's fingers is lingering dangerously close to your mouth as he clutches your neck; you take the digit between your lips and begin to suck.

As the vampire sees your tongue snake around his finger, he’s done for. All resolve is gone, and your lover fucks into you with reckless abandon as you moan around his hand. The grip on your neck tightens as he starts to emit his own cries of pleasure, and your hand wraps tightly onto his neck in response, nails digging into cold flesh.

“Do you see what you do to me?” He asks through gritted teeth as his thrusts become sloppy. You’re seeing stars, and the friction of his pelvis paired with the intense throbbing of your abused pussy is sending you towards a second climax. As your body reaches its crescendo, you release Astarion’s finger from between your lips and cry out in a mixture of pleasure and pain. The rogue hears your beautiful cry and feels the pulsing of your sex, which finally pushes him over the edge as he spills into you, cock twitching with every new stream of seed.

His mouth is on yours before you finish your strangled cry of release, and Astarion’s works to kiss you down from your incredible high. The vampire releases your neck, and the passionate force of his lips slowly ebbs into a gentle, lazy kiss. Eventually, with both of your bodies fully spent, the rogue rolls onto his side, sliding himself from you and spilling the evidence of your love making across the silky sheets.

Astarion rolls from the bed, and you whine, but he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear as he promises he will be right back. He slips his trousers on and exits the room for a minute, only to return with the book he seemed obsessed with. Part of you is annoyed when the rogue settles back into bed, opening his arm so you can nestle yourself in the crook.

You give him a little pout. “Do you not love me more than you love these books? I’m beginning to worry I’ve coupled myself to another Gale. I was sure that tonight would distract you and I would have you all to myself.”

Astarion chuckles, shaking his head slightly before turning to kiss you on the forehead. “My sweet, surely you know the depths of my love for you far surpass the pages of a book. And you are always distracting... even when I am thinking of something else, I am also thinking of you.”

He shuts the book and taps his hand on the cover, lithe fingers moving to trace the embossed words of the title. “I apologize if I’ve been consumed and you’ve felt neglected, my darling. This book is just… intriguing.”

You turn your head and for the first time, read the title: ‘The Creation of Dhampirs: A Guide.”

Oh.

Your brow furrows as you turn to look at Astarion, and you see a wistful, faraway look in his eyes. This look was different from his unfortunately familiar one that he displayed during flashbacks and night terrors… this one contained hope.

“Are you imagining your future, Astarion?” You ask, sitting up just enough to place a kiss on your lover’s cheek and brush a few wayward curls back into place. “If you are, then I’d better be there by your side.”

The rogue snaps out of his reverie and turns to look at you again, his expression laced with love. He extends his long arm backwards, dropping the tome on the nightstand before placing his hand on your face. Astarion’s thumb strokes your cheek and he sighs happily before whispering, “Yes, you’d better be.”

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virginsexgod69 · 11 months ago

Text

❝ Bribery ❞

18+

pairings Shane and Rick x f!Reader

summary Rick and Shane catch you stealing and you do what it takes to convince them not to arrest you.

cw smut, unprotected p in v, oral (male and female receiving), power imbalance, slight age gap, tit fucking, spanking, pussy slapping, spit, degrading names, public sex, car sex

2.8k words

"I didn't even take anything!" you pleaded with the mall security guard.

"I saw you shoving shit in your pockets in the security cameras, lady," he deadpanned.

Well shit. You were caught.

"You don't know what you saw! It was probably someone else who looked liked me an-"

"Save it for the cops," he interrupted.

"You called the fucking police over some lipgloss?!” you snapped.

"Is that a confession?" the overweight security guard speculated.

"Oh fuck this!"

With the stolen lip gloss tube secured in your back pocket, you made a run for the exit. The slow clomps of the security guard’s feet attempting to chase you faded behind you as you ran. Once you were out of the mall, you scoured the parking lot for your car -a white, beat up 2006 Honda Civic. As you fiddled around in your purse for your keys, you heard the familiar sound of a police siren.

“Godammit!” You cursed, running away from the siren while still feeling for your keys.

Bright headlights obscured your vision before you felt the slow moving cop car knock you down into the asphalt. The bright lights went away and you heard the doors open and close. Two familiar figures approached and stood in front of you, but made no move to help you.

“You again,” said an irritated Officer Walsh.

“Me? I didn’t do anything I was just leav-“

Before you could finish your sentence, he roughly gripped your upper arm and yanked you up from the ground, pulled your hands behind your back and forcefully slammed you over the hood of the car.

“Rick,” he said to the other officer.

You felt his large hand smooth over the curve of your ass before slipping into your back pocket and pulling out the tube of stolen lip gloss.

“Office Grimes, is that y-“

“Shut it,” he ordered. Yup, it was him.

One of them -you couldn’t tell who- pulled you into standing up straight. The two men who you’ve become quite familiar with over some tome stood tall over you, staring you down with skepticism and disappointment apparent on their faces.

“Shoplifting, again?” Rick questioned.

You looked at them with an overdramatic offended look on your face. “I bought that, fair and square!” You lied.

“Show me your receipt then,” Shane challenged, making it clear as day he didn’t believe you were innocent.

FUCK FUCK FUCK

You panicked as you pretended to search all of your pockets for a receipt you knew you didn't have.

"I-uh...must've...um...dropped it when uh...you hit me with your fucking car!" you said, trying to shift the blame on them.

They shared a look then looked at you with expressions that told you they're not buying a damn thing you said.

"If you were anyone else, we'd let you go. But Y/N, you have a track record, so we're gonna hafta take ya into the station," Rick said, strong arms crossed over his chest with your lipgloss still in his hand. You looked at him with large, sad, pleading eyes, then at Shane with the same look. Neither of them budged so you dropped the act.

"Fuckin' pigs!" you shouted at them before running off to go knows where. The two men chased after you on foot, barking orders at you as they did. They weren't far behind, but there was still a good amount of space between you. You gave up on looking for your keys and just continued to run. When you couldn't hear their footsteps anymore you stopped and leaned against some car. You were about to relax but the sound of sirens got your heart racing again. In their car, they chased you out onto some empty road before you finally couldn't run anymore and collapsed into the grass on the side of the road. The car halted to a stop a few feet away from you before the men got out and ran over to you.

This time it was Rick who yanked you up from the ground. You were too out of breath to argue, or say anything for that matter.

"No innocent person would run away like that," Rick hissed in your ear. He forced your arms behind you back and cuffed you then dragged you over to the car where Shane waited. He walked over to you, looking down at you the entire way. His large, rough hand grabbed you jaw and forced you to look up at him.

"You wanna explain yourself 'fore we throw your ass in jail," he said venomously.

The severity of the situation finally hit you as your teary eyes stared into his cold brown ones. You couldn't go to jail, especially over some cheap lipgloss. You tried to swallow the lump in your throat as your brain worked to find something to say.

"C'mon, Shane. We used to go to the same church, y'know this isn't really who I am," you pleaded as you choked back sobs.

You could've sworn you saw Shane's resolve soften, but before he could say anything, Rick cut in.

"Cut the bullshit, Y/N. You have a record. This is who you are and this is the shit you do."

Rick's cruel words caused a pang in your chest. Hearing such things from a man who once trusted you enough to babysit his kid hurt. You really didn't think a few misdemeanors here and there would cause two people you once looked up to to think so lowly of you. You tore your jaw from Shane's grip and turned to face Rick.

"Rick, I-"

"Officer Grimes," he corrected.

Ouch.

"I-I promise I'll stop breaking the law, honest! I'll even make it up to you guys, just please don't take me to jail!" you begged.

"How do you plan on making it up to us, Peach?" Shane asked using an old nickname you haven't heard since high school.

You knew exactly how you were gonna make it up to them.

You slowly lowered yourself onto your knees, ignoring the way the ground dug into them. You looked up at Rick with innocent doe eyes.

"Take off your pants," you rasped.

You honestly weren't even sure if they'd give into your advances, at the very least you expected some kind of pushback. But both men eagerly undid their belts and pulled out their hard cocks. You shuffled your way over to Rick, not caring how the rough road scratched your bare knees. You licked at the pre-cum leaking out of Rick's pretty, red tip before pressing a chaste kiss to it. You stuck your tongue all the way out, licking up and down his length like it was the coldest, tastiest popsicle on the hottest summer day. His breathing shallowed as he did his best to keep his composure.After having enough of teasing him with your tongue, you took his entire length into your mouth, feeling his tip hit the back of your throat as you did your best not to gag. Rick couldn't take it anymore and grunted in pleasure. You looked up at him through your long lashes. He looked like he was in heaven. His head was thrown back in pleasure, giving you the perfect view of his Adam's apple moving with every pleasurable moan that escaped him. You bobbed your head up and down on his dick, moving at your own pace until he couldn't take it anymore and grabbed a fistful of your hair and began fucking your throat. You felt him twitch in your mouth as you choked on his large size. You were making him feel good and that made you feel good. You could feel yourself soaking your panties and wished you weren't cuffed so you can stimulate your aching clit.

"Oh god, Y/N. You're taking me so good...good girl," Rick praised between pants. His praise alone was enough to make your cunt throb. Rick's rhythm became sloppy as he felt himself about to cum. You started into his eyes, nonverbally begging him to cum down your throat and whether or not he understood your silent pleas, that's exactly what he did. You swallowed every drop of him as he pulled his softening cock out of your mouth.

"Damn Peach, when'd you become such a slut," Shane taunted with a smirk on his face and his dick in his hand. He took in the sight of you, already drunk on cock, mascara tears running down your cheeks and a streak of drool leaking down your chin. He stepped closer to you as he brought himself to his climax.

"Say 'ahh'," he ordered. You eagerly opened your mouth as he came all over your pretty face shamelessly. You blinked his cum out of your eyes as you swallowed what got into your mouth.

"Damn, look at 'er. She takes one cock and she's already all fucked out," Shane teased.

"Pretty lil thang still hasn't cum yet," Rick commented, noticing the way you were shifting around in an attempt to stimulate your needy clit.

"You think the lil felon deserves to cum?"

"Maybe we gotta fuck a lesson into her. Oughta teach her to quit stealin'."

"Alright," Shane agreed, "But I get 'er pussy first."

Rick reluctantly agreed. Shane pulled you up from the ground and quickly had you bent over the hood of the car like he did earlier. He took a minute to admire how good your ass looked in those tiny shorts before he practically ripped them off, taking your panties with them. He roughly smacked your ass a few times before spreading your cheeks open with his big, rough hands. He spat on your already dripping cunt before slapping it too. You whimpered in pleasure and tried to close your legs, but he kicked your ankles apart. He lined his dick up with your desperate hole that was already clenching over nothing.

"Jus' fuck me already, Shane," you slurred.

Teasingly, he rubbed his length up and down your slit, coating his already leaking tip with a mix of your slick and his spit. You wantonly whined in an attempt to get him to hurry up and put it in you already. And he finally did. Slammed himself all the way in, earning a scream from you as his rock hard dick hit all the right spots inside of you. He stayed still for a minute causing you to squirm. He leaned over you and whispered in your ear.

"Be patient, or 'm not gonna let you cum." You stopped squirming and he finally pulled out before ramming himself back inside of you. Your warm walls hugged his cock perfectly as he plowed in and out of your perfect pussy. The sounds your bodies made were so filthy and sinful it only made you clench around his cock even harder. More tears streamed down your face as he fucked you so good you could only babble nonsensically, begging him to make you cum.

"Ah, Shane, 'm gonnaa," you stupidly babbled.

"S'alright, Peach, I'ma get you there," he said as he thrusted into you sloppily, his own climax reaching him once again. You screamed in pleasure as you were overcome by your orgasm. As you came, you clenched down on the officer so hard he almost came inside of you, but he resisted until you were through riding out your orgasm. He quickly pulled out and released himself all over your lower back.

"Rick I need ya, please Rick I wanna feel you inside a' me," you begged.

You looked so fucked out laying on that car hood that the men wondered if you even knew what you were saying. Rick walked over to you and unlocked the handcuffs, finally freeing you. Before you could react, he roughly flipped you over onto your back.

"If you even think about makin' a run for it, I won't hesitate to throw your pretty lil' ass in jail."

"Yes, Officer Grimes," you whined. Hearing you call him 'Officer Grimes' made his cock twitch. He animalistically tore your tank top off before giving your bra the same treatment, leaving you completely naked and vulnerable to the two fully clothed men.

"You've got such pretty tits," he complimented as he rubbed his hands up your body. You let out little whimpers and moans, just waiting for him to fill you up and split you open on his cock. His large, warm hands finally found their way to your neglected tits. He grabbed a handful of each one, roughly kneading them. You squirmed and moaned just wishing you had something to rub your clit against. It was all too much. His thumb and forefinger pinched and twisted at your sensitive, hardening buds, earning the most pathetic, wanton moans he's ever heard. Unable to handle it anymore, you reached your now free hand down to your clit and began rubbing circles on it. Rick grabbed your wrist and slammed it against the car's hood.

"The hell you think you're doin'?"

"Rick, please!" you sobbed. You desperate pleas and endless begging finally got to him. He lifted your legs, putting them over his shoulders before lining himself up with your abused, aching pussy and slowly sinking in. Your eyes rolled back in your head at the heavenly sensation.

"What a pretty slut, takin' me so well," he praised once he was all the way in. Your cunt just loved the way Rick filled you up so good. "Jus' look at the way I fill you up," he admired as he pressed on his dick outline through your stomach. Shane watched the glorious way your tits bounced with each of Rick's thrusts. You looked like such a whore, spread out and completely nude, eyes rolling in the back of your head, mouth open, tits bouncing. It made him hard again. Rick rubbed rhythmic circles on your throbbing clit, making you see white and arching your back as another orgasm washed over your body. Rick kept pounding into you as he chased his own orgasm. When it finally came, he filled you up as your pussy milked him dry. His eyes rolled back as he threw his head back in ecstasy.

"Bring her over here," Shane demanded from the backseat. He sat in the back, facing the open door with his pants down as he stroked his hard-again cock.

"I'ma fuck those pretty tits."

Rick smirked as he forced you back down onto your knees. You stumbled a bit and fell into Shane's arms. He looked down at you and smirked to himself, proud of the mess he made on your face. One of his large hands kneaded one of your tits, whole he continued to stroke himself with the other. He spat on his hand, lubing up his cock before squishing your tits together with both hands. He groaned in pleasure as he stuck himself between your warm, soft mounds. The unexpected penetration of Rick’s tongue in your pussy had you moaning in unison with Shane. He was practically making out with your lower lips while Shane fucked your tits. The feeling of his warm mouth sucking on your overstimulated clit made your mind go blank as you screamed his name. His tongue redirected itself to your needy hole, tasting every bit of you and reaching places your fingers couldn’t. As the pleasure became too much, you gripped Shane’s muscular thighs, digging your nails into his flesh. His head was thrown back in pleasure as he tightened his grip on your tits.

“You’re doin’ so good, Peach,” he praised. All you could do was moan in response. The friction of Shane’s veiny dick sliding between your tits combined with Rick’s skilled mouth eating you out put you in a state of euphoria. You screamed the mens’ names as you came for the third time today. Shortly after, Shane came all over your chest. Once you came down from your orgasm, you slumped over onto Shane due to your exhaustion. Rick got out from under you and picked your scattered clothes from off the ground, keeping your panties for himself. Shane helped you into the car and Rick tossed you your clothes.

…

“We’ll let you off with a warnin’. But this is the last time, Y/N,” Rick said, sternly.

“Yes, Officer Grimes,” you sleepily mumbled as you dressed yourself in the backseat.

“We’re serious,” Shane affirmed as he drove.

“I know, Officer Walsh.”

You slept the rest of the car ride, worn out from all the fucking you endured. Once they pulled into your driveway, you woke up and exited the car.

“Don’t let us catch you stealin’ shit again,” Rick shouted from his rolled down window as you walked to your house.

“Okay. Can I keep the lip gloss though?”

masterlist

tbh, i don't even like shane, but this idea came to me in the shower a few days ago and i couldn't resist =p

#rick grimes smut #rick grimes x reader smut #rick grimes x reader #smut #shane walsh smut #shane walsh x reader #shane walsh x reader smut #female reader #the walking dead #the walking dead smut #rick grimes imagine #rick grimes #shane walsh #twd smut

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aemondluvbot · 6 months ago

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𝖑𝖆𝖙𝖊 𝖓𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙 𝖑𝖊𝖘𝖘𝖔𝖓𝖘

✧ ⸺ aemond x reader︱a “the dragon and the sparrow” blurb

𝔞. 𝔫𝔬𝔱𝔢: i have always genuinely adored the scenes in acotar where rhys teaches feyre how to read so this is very much inspired by that

𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: allusions to smut but nothing on page for this one, innuendo, nudity, fluff apart from that

“aeg…aegon the con…conc…” you groan in frustration, the words dancing in front of you eyes—elusive and more difficult than they have any right to be.

“conqueror,” aemond corrects gently, brushing his knuckles up and down your bare shoulders as you sit between his legs, the giant tome in your hands. it’s much past your bedtime, the hour of the bat, and yet you’re determined… determined to show him that you can make progress, you can learn.

it’s been a challenging few weeks, but you want to show him you’re worth teaching, a good student.

“aegon the conqueror,” you repeat, a little more confident, “was the f-feerst…?”

“first,” the prince corrects you again, laughing softly when you huff and slam the book shut. “come on little sparrow, you can’t give up just yet.”

“i’ve been trying!” you whine. and it’s true, every spare minute you have between washing linens and mopping floors and boiling water for baths, you sneak in quick peeks at the loose pages aemond has been giving you. more often than not, it’s history lessons—targaryen history and stories from all seven kingdoms, histories of dragons and lands beyond the narrow sea.

anything and everything that’s challenging for you. anything and everything for you to learn how to read.

“i know you have been, my sweet,” the prince placates you a little, placing a kiss on your bare shoulder.

just hours ago you were tossing between the sheets, lost in the throes of ecstasy, and now here you are… frustrated beyond belief and still on the first page of this newest lesson.

“open the book,” he says. it’s an order, more like, one you shouldn’t refuse. still you grumble a little, making him chuckle again. “go on…”

you clear your throat, a little dramatic. “aegon the con…queror… the conqueror was the… first l-lord of the sev…en kingdoam…kingdoms,” you pause, breaking apart several times and repeating words until they feel familiar on your tongue. until the letters make a little more sense than before. “and king on… the irun—”

“iron.”

“iron th…throne.”

“very good,” aemond praises, turning your face to him so he can give you a kiss as reward.

this has been the routine for a few weeks now—he fucks you to within an inch of your life and then makes you sit between his legs, a book in your hands, making you read the words out loud to him. the kisses are your favourite reward, as much a treat for you as it is for him.

“this is so dull,” you whine again, in a difficult mood tonight.

aemond hums. “you think my ancestor, aegon the conqueror, is dull?”

you gasp, realising what just came out of your mouth in front of the prince when you feel a pinch on your hip, making you half-yelp half-giggle. his mouth hovers just above your ear, kissing the shell and the lobe and then your jaw.

“i think i agree with you,” he whispers, making you giggle a little more. “should we get a new book then?”

“mm-hmm,” you nod, “you told me once you had a book on vhagar for me. i’d like that one, my prince.”

wordlessly, aemond leaves the bed, taking the book in your hands away with him. you instantly miss the warmth of his body, of the feel of his skin against yours. but you can’t complain too much about it, not when he's right there in front of you, gloriously naked and searching for the book you requested.

“a lot of big words in this one,” aemond warns while you salivate over his backside. you have a sneaking suspicion he’s taking longer than necessary, standing right there for a few more moments just for your viewing pleasure.

“i’m quite good with big things, my prince,” you answer, rather coy.

“are you now?” aemond turns sideways, his little smirk now half-visible. “that mouth of yours will get you in trouble some day, little sparrow.”

it’s not a threat, not even close. and yet it sends a tendril of thrill down your spine and straight to your core. “i look forward to that day, my prince.”

his smirk turns into a smile, but the prince chooses not to answer, pulling the book down from a high shelf instead. once he’s back in bed you slot yourself back between his legs, comfortable and snug.

the book looks just as old as the others, leather-bound and its pages yellowing, but the illustration on the front page is all too familiar. for a moment you close your eyes and think of the wind rushing through your hair, think of the prince’s arms around you much like they are now.

“shall we begin?” he nudges and you nod, turning to the first page.

you begin much like before—struggling with the words and repeating them until they come a little more easily. aemond corrects much like before too, gently guiding you over the more difficult ones, praising with kisses and soft touches when you get them right. it’s only after the first page that you turn to him in curiosity.

“can i ask something, my prince?”

he hums, busy stroking his fingers through your hair, and you take that as a yes.

“how did you get her? vhagar… she’s centuries older than you and so much bigger. you can’t have had her as an egg in your cradle.”

“i didn’t,” he answers, closing his eyes perhaps to reminisce the day you’d asked about, stroking your head still. “i was just a boy, ten years of age… and she was riderless.”

“you were ten?” your voice drips with incredulity, not doubting him, never doubting him. when you close your eyes you can picture it so clearly—a small boy of ten, silver hair down to his shoulders, approaching a dragon hundreds of times his size.

“do you not believe me, little sparrow?” aemond teases.

“i’d never doubt you,” you respond. “what did you say to her?”

“i said, ‘dohaerās, vhagar! lykirī,’ and she let me climb her,” the prince explains, dramatising the familiar words you’d heard him speak in high valyrian just a few weeks ago.

“you told her to… to… serve, and… be calm?”

“look at you, little sparrow,” aemond swoops down, capturing your lips in his for a deep lingering kiss that has heat coiling in your belly again. rather possessively, you grab his face in your hands, deepening the kiss, relishing the feel of his mouth on yours until he’s the one to break it.

“you can learn high valyrian—” another small peck on your lips “—once you’ve mastered the common tongue. until then…” his arms loop around you again, putting the book back in your lap to the page it was on before, and tapping the page with his finger.

you intertwine your fingers with his, kissing the back of his hand. “if that’s what my prince commands…”

and then you begin all over again.

𝔱𝔞𝔤𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱: @uhnanix

#✧.* ⸺ valyria writes #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #hotd #house of the dragon #house of the dragon smut #ewan mitchell x reader #ewan mitchell #smut #sparrow!reader

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underdark-dreams · 1 year ago

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A gift fic for @catsharky featuring their beautiful bard Tav, Ember! Fueled by catsharky's mind and by the amazing art of Ember & blushy Rolan trapped in a closet 😳

Pent Up

"How long has it been?" As the new Master of Ramazith's Tower, Rolan finds himself short on personal time. Then he finds himself trapped up against the bard.

Tags: Trapped in a Closet, Tails, Touch-Starved, Explicit Sexual Content

Word Count: 4,383 [Read on AO3]

For all its wonders, Ramazith’s Tower offered a staggering lack of privacy.

Perhaps few wizards had families; Rolan couldn’t think of another good reason why such a palace would have only one decent bedroom within its walls.

It hadn’t seemed like a hindrance the first days Cal and Lia moved in. They’d managed to find their alone time on the road from Elturel where privacy was nonexistent, hadn’t they?

After four weeks of Cal’s snoring and Lia’s constant tossing and turning in their beds beside his, Rolan felt like a bowstring ready to snap. Between the shared quarters and all of the newly inherited duties of managing Sorcerous Sundries, let alone cataloging the Tower itself, Rolan found himself…well. Out of time for his own needs.

More bluntly, if Rolan didn’t get himself off in the next tenday, he feared he might actually burn down a wing of his brand new library from sheer sexual frustration. The thought didn’t even embarrass him at this point—that’s how absolutely desperate he’d grown.

And of course the dreams weren’t helping.

That made Rolan’s focus falter for a moment, and the books he was levitating to the floor above slammed into their shelf with far too much force. He cursed under his breath and concentrated fresh on the next stack of tomes beside him.

Of all the people for his subconscious to latch onto, why, why did it have to be Ember? He respected her and valued her friendship more than just about anyone’s. He looked forward to every moment he got to spend in her company, in fact.

Yet lately, Rolan’s sleeping mind conjured up scenarios where he took her in every position on every surface imaginable.

Pressed into silky sheets—bent in half over his desk—on her hands and knees on the carpet, the wood floor, his own bed, Ember’s fists gripping the bedding beneath her as he—

“Hope you’ve got a good spot to hide up here!”

Rolan heard the jingle of bells behind him before he’d even turned from his work. Her voice sent a pang of mortification through him, as if she too might have glimpsed those images flashing through his mind’s eye.

Ember was dashing toward him from the Tower portal, still dressed in one of her stage costumes. She was barefoot save for a ring of little bells around each ankle, and her tail swung wildly behind her for balance as she ran into the room.

“What in the hells—” Rolan began, this time failing the final gesture of his spell. The tomes that he was carefully guiding upward lurched and crashed against the polished wood, toppling back down several floors. Rolan ducked aside just in time as they landed with a sharp thump at his feet.

“Explain,” he demanded curtly, knowing whatever story the bard had would be outlandish.

“That Aradin, remember?” Ember pulled up in front of him, clutching a stitch in her side. “Stupid bounty hunter? His crew’s downstairs. They seem very put out that he’s dead,” she added, letting out a breathless laugh.

Rolan failed to see the humor. “You mean you led them here? From wherever you were doing your—”

He tried and failed to find the right word, instead waving a hand around her figure. Ember’s attire revealed a strip of bare skin from her neck to her navel, and that sight had scattered Rolan’s thoughts around his skull like marbles.

“The Elfsong,” Ember supplied, not acknowledging his sudden fluster. “They didn’t recognize my stage disguise, but I overheard them planning to come here and shake you down for what’s owed them. You’re welcome for the head start,” she added, propping a fist on her hip.

Rolan tried to ignore the attitude as he bent to pick up his damaged books in a huff. “They do know Lorroakan’s dead too, correct? Whatever contract they had with him was never any of my business.”

Ember spread her arms wide in impatience. “I know that, Rolan, but they’re fucking idiots!”

“Let’s just call Aylin to stomp them to death,” Rolan muttered savagely, not altogether joking.

Rolan had fended off Aradin’s rude threats for his entire apprenticeship, and now that he was Master of the Tower himself, he was in no mood for more of that lot barging in and demanding things. After watching the aasimar dispatch Lorroakan, Rolan suspected that Dame Aylin would share the feeling.

“Nice idea,” Ember allowed, “but unless you’d like blood on your new carpets, I suggest we make ourselves scarce. Like now. You know you’ve still got a portal down there practically labeled ‘Real Nightsong Hunters This Way’?”

This brought Rolan up short with a curse; Ember had a terribly good point there. He could kick himself for not having the sense to fix that glaring security risk before now.

Considering the slew of Gazette articles speculating wildly about how Ramazith’s Tower had fallen into his hands, perhaps it was wise not to add any other deaths to his first month as Master.

When he straightened, Ember was already casting around the cavernous interior for a suitable hiding spot. “There,” she pointed up suddenly.

Apparently done trying to urge him on with words, Ember’s fingers clasped over his, and the next thing Rolan knew she was dragging him bodily up the staircase. The books under his arm tumbled again to the floor.

Through his surprise, Rolan felt something wet between their palms. He glanced to find that her hand was spattered with blood.

“Did they hurt you?” Suddenly furious, Rolan nearly stumbled on a stair behind her. A handful of defensive spells sprang white-hot into his mind.

“Oh, no—” Ember dismissed the idea. “It’s not mine.”

That only raised more questions, but there was no chance to form them as she yanked him onto the open landing. When Ember made a beeline toward the narrow door between two ornate shelves, Rolan tried to object. “That’s only a—”

Ember threw the door open and practically shoved him inside.

“—closet,” Rolan finished deadpan, even as the bard jostled in behind him, swinging the door to its latch behind her. The space was comically small with two people.

Or it would have been comical with someone else.

Instead, Rolan found himself suddenly pressed up far closer to Ember than he ever had been outside his own mind. Standing chest-to-chest, he was painfully aware of every spot where their limbs brushed together—especially when her hand accidentally swung against the robes at his thigh.

It finally made her pick up on the tension radiating around him. Ember cleared her throat, although her eyes were sparkling with amusement. “Unless you’ve got a better idea?”

“No,” was all Rolan had time to say before the whirling sound of the portal below traveled up to their ears. The two of them froze still. Ember's eyes on his face went wide, as if it might help her hear behind her better.

Over Ember’s shoulder, Rolan could only see a thin vertical sliver of the lower dais through the crack in the closet door, but it was just enough.

Into the room shuffled two men, one dark and one fair. Rolan indeed thought he recognized them from Aradin’s crew back at the Grove. They moved warily across the central floor with hands near their weapons, as if expecting an ambush. When the blonde-haired man turned slightly, Rolan glimpsed two fresh streaks of blood running from his nostrils.

Almost as if someone with quick reflexes had jammed the heel of their hand against his nose in a defensive move, bloodying their palm in the process.

“I see,” Rolan whispered, partly to himself. “Any chance you instigated this whole thing?”

“He deserved it,” Ember whispered back with vehemence. “He called you a—”

Their eyes met for a second, and just as Rolan’s heart began to pound at how close her face was, she glanced away.

“Let’s just say he had Aradin’s vocabulary,” Ember finished.

So she had bloodied a man’s nose to defend his honor? He should find it absurd, but at this moment, all Rolan could think was how pretty Ember looked with her jaw set in righteous indignation like that.

“I’m flattered,” Rolan told her, only half-joking. He glanced back through the crack in the door, partly to distract himself from her again.

The two thugs had quickly given up any pretense of stealth in favor of searching the premises. Their unguarded footsteps were enough to track them, and after a short verbal exchange those heavy treads spread out to explore the floor below—far from Rolan and Ember’s hiding place.

“What if they steal something?” Ember whispered suddenly.

Of all Rolan’s concerns right now, that was by far the least pressing. “The stuff they’re looking for is all down in the vault. But I’d love to see them try, this place has enough defensive enchantments to flatten a troll, some my own magic. They’ll get knocked out if they so much as crack open a book. Though I doubt they can read,” Rolan added.

That made Ember laugh, a breathy and quiet sound—Rolan felt it against his cheek and hoped she wouldn’t notice the way he swallowed hard at the sensation.

With the two intruders blundering about so loudly, it suddenly seemed like an unnecessary risk to keep the door cracked open to watch them. In one move Rolan reached around Ember’s arm for the doorknob, pulled it shut, and muttered a quick incantation. The lock glowed blue-white with a series of clicks, now magically secured from the inside.

It was a slight change, but it somehow made the cramped space feel far more intimate. The light streaming under the door was just enough for him to make out Ember’s face a mere foot from his own.

Shelves packed with broken baubles of unidentified usefulness lined the walls around them, muffling the sound in the small space, everything but their breathing. Ember was close enough that Rolan felt her every exhale tickle his cheek.

“Now I guess we wait,” she said.

Rolan nodded, then remembered she might not be able to see. “I suppose. Hopefully those idiots lose interest fast.”

“What about Cal and Lia?”

“They’re both at Alfira’s,” Rolan answered. Worry ran through him for a moment, but they wouldn’t be back for at least an hour. By any luck Aradin’s old crew would be long gone by then. Good gods, please. Rolan didn’t think he’d survive an hour in a confined space with Ember’s body brushing up against him without doing something immensely embarrassing.

There was another muffled pause as they both shifted on their feet. One of Ember’s bells gave a tiny jingle.

“So…what’s new with you?” Ember’s quiet voice shook with mirth. This whole situation was apparently all good fun for her.

Rolan found himself enjoying it for his own reasons, but not any he remotely wanted to admit. The slashing neckline in Ember’s shirt offered a very generous view of her chest from this angle, and it took most of his concentration not to stare. He shifted again in an effort to put more space between them—with little success.

“Nothing but the usual,” he told her, grasping at the distraction. “Organizing Lorroakan’s hoard of magical artifacts, putting the library in proper order. Preparing the Tower’s defenses for the army marching down on the city any day now.”

“Sounds stressful.” Ember frowned at him a bit. “Don’t you take any time for yourself? Have a little fun?”

“When exactly would I have a chance to do that,” Rolan laughed mirthlessly.

And that was precisely the problem, wasn’t it?

As though Rolan’s subconscious hadn’t taken over after enough inaction on his part. As though exactly four nights ago he hadn’t experienced a dream shockingly similar to their current scenario, one where dream-Ember had instead dropped to her knees with lovely lips parted to take him.

As though Rolan hadn’t jolted awake at midnight, sweaty and tangled in his bedsheets, hard cock in his own grip—

That alarming line of thought was interrupted when one of Aradin’s men called to the other. This time, the voice came from just a few meters outside the door.

Both of them froze at the sound. Rolan’s mind was actually distracted by the threat of a confrontation, though only for a moment.

Whether from nerves or something else, Ember’s frame shifted in closer against his. He thought he could almost feel the heavy beat of her heart through the muffled and dim space.

The motion notched their bodies together in a new way. With his next smallest of movements, Rolan felt one of her thighs nudging in between his legs.

No—no no no, not now—

Yet blood was already rushing south of his waist in a primal reaction to the contact. Rolan clamped down with all his mental training, willing his body not to do anything so humiliating while she was trapped up against him like this with potential danger just outside. He conjured up thoughts of death, and pain, and anything that might distract his touch-starved body from the destination it was already barrelling towards headlong. His tail tip flicked eagerly behind him, and he coiled it around his calf to hide his tell.

But she was so firm and warm against his groin, and despite his best efforts, Rolan felt himself stiffening against her under his robes.

Ember’s eyebrows rose silently. Rolan felt the hottest blush blooming all over his face in response.

“Ignore that,” Rolan whispered curtly. Looking at any part of her only made his face burn even more, but it was hard to find anywhere else to look in their close quarters.

Ember bit and released her lower lip. “That’s going to be hard,” she whispered back.

Her choice of words made him wish the floorboards would open up and swallow him. Gods, this was humiliating.

“Do you always get this excited from the thrill of danger?” Ember continued in a teasing whisper.

“Now’s not the time,” Rolan hissed at her, trying to ignore the way she had angled herself slightly against his side.

“Or maybe it’s the close quarters—”

“Hush—” Rolan was genuinely trying to listen, unsure whether the intruder had moved away or was close enough to hear their whispered exchange. He was in no state to concentrate on spellcasting at the moment.

As he strained his ears, one of his arms nervously bumped against Ember and actually grazed the soft curve of her breast. Her breath hitched against his ear.

Fucking hells. Rolan thought every bit of him could melt on the spot—all but the length between his legs, which was now hard as a rock against the side of Ember’s hip. Rolan tried to shrink back further against the shelving behind him, but there was nowhere left to go.

Ember certainly made no move to give him space. “Didn’t know you had it in you,” she whispered coyly. “Honestly, I’m flattered.”

“This isn’t because—” Of you, Rolan wanted to tell her. But that seemed rather insulting, not to mention a bald-faced lie. He let out a shaky breath. “I’ve…not had much time to myself lately, that’s all.”

“Oh,” she replied. Rolan could practically feel Ember’s eyes on the side of his face. “Oh.”

A pause followed in which Rolan stared up at the dark closet ceiling and wished to disappear. Outside, there was a more distant crash and a yelp—one of the idiots triggering an arcane trap, no doubt. He felt a twinge of satisfaction. They were the whole reason he was stuck in this predicament.

“How long has it been?”

Rolan glanced down at Ember, whose face was tilted toward him sincerely.

“A few weeks,” he mumbled, then looked away again. “Almost four.”

“Damn,” Ember whispered.

“Yes,” Rolan said stiffly, continuing to avoid her gaze as prickling heat climbed up his neck. “So if we could just—wait here quietly.”

Ember let out a low, thoughtful hum. Something about the sound made Rolan’s palms sweat where they hung at his sides.

“How quiet can you be?” She asked him.

It took Rolan several moments to catch her meaning. He blinked at her in shock, certain she must be trying to tease him again. “What do you—”

“Because we’re alone right now,” she interrupted. She spread her palms to each side, as far as the cramped walls allowed. “And you've got nowhere else to be at the moment, right?”

She was so close Rolan’s eyes had to flick back and forth between hers. “That’s insane,” Rolan said hoarsely.

“Is it?” Ember sounded quite serious, though she kept her tone to a whisper. “Listen, Rolan, you’re not subtle. I’ve noticed, everyone who cares about you has. You’ve been impatient, and snippy, and Lia said you keep forgetting projects in the middle to start new ones.”

“When did you talk to—”

She didn’t slow for his question, and Rolan felt her hand actually curl up over his shoulder. His skin glowed with heat under her touch.

“For your own sanity, you need to get off,” Ember finished.

“I’m not going to—while you’re standing right here,” Rolan choked out. His mouth refused to repeat the phrase.

Ember was so close that he actually saw the color travel up her cheeks. “Rolan, seriously…you’ve been staring down my shirt every ten seconds. And you’re practically impaling me with that thing in your pants.”

All Rolan could do was squeeze his eyes shut with a small groan of humiliation. “I’m sorry.”

“You don't need to be sorry,” she told him, and with his eyes closed, he heard a new note in her voice. “I’m telling you I can help.”

As she spoke, a soft hand closed across Rolan’s mouth.

His eyes flew open in shock to find hers. Ember’s luminous blue-gold gaze looked at him from under her lashes, sending a wave of heat rippling and licking across the skin under his robes.

With heart pounding in his chest, Rolan connected the dots. She could help. She could keep him quiet.

As his breath panted faster under her hand, Ember tilted her body slightly against his. Before he could think, she moved her free arm as if to reach between his legs.

Rolan shook his head frantically. If she touched him there, this would all be over. Not to mention…some small part of his mind admitted…he wanted to feel Ember’s hands there for the first time under different circumstances. Some night when he could take his time with her on even footing.

She had withdrawn her hand immediately at his indication, resting it gently around on his back instead. It was almost a sweet gesture—until she used the leverage of her pressed palm to roll her hips very slightly over his trapped thigh.

The small motion slid his hardness against her side through layers of clothing, and the simple friction made him throb. Rolan moaned at the back of his throat and felt the vibration stopped up by her hand. His tail had uncurled from his leg to shudder and flick in excitement again, nearly knocking something glass off the shelf behind him. Desperate to keep quiet, Rolan wound his tail up Ember’s leg with the tip brushing against her thigh.

She bit one side of her lip in response. At that sight, had her fingers not been clasped firmly over his mouth, Rolan would have closed the distance to kiss her.

While he panted and wished, Ember’s hand trailed down the back of his robes with no particular goal in mind. But when her fingers met with bare skin at the base of his tail, Rolan jerked involuntarily as a strangled groan rose from his chest.

The fingers of her other hand clenched tighter over his mouth. Ember stared at him, eyes wide with surprise and something like delight.

The last working bit of Rolan’s brain recalled her upbringing among non-Tieflings. Was it possible—could she not realize what a very sensitive area that was?

She appeared to be getting the picture either way. Without moving her hand from his lips, she curled four fingers ever so lightly to cup around the base of his tail.

“Wait,” Rolan managed to gasp out against Ember’s hand, and she slid it down to his chin. His length throbbed painfully against his trousers, pressing obscenely into her thigh, yet she made no move to adjust positions.

But Ember did hesitate as she watched him. “Does that hurt?”

“No, hells—” Rolan shook his head in a daze. “Far…far from it.”

Ember looked over his face with almost curiosity, and then her lovely fingers squeezed slightly around him.

“Wait!” Rolan repeated, and his tone shot up to a quiet whine. He was past trying to control his reactions, trembling and heated with weeks of pent-up desperation, but it felt vital to salvage what shreds of his dignity remained before she tipped him over the edge. And she had him very, very close.

“This isn't how I wanted—with you—but it’s been a gods damned month between everything, and Cal and Lia—and I’m master of the Tower now, and there’s the Absolute—”

Whether or not Rolan’s whispered and disjointed rambling made any sense, Ember had the grace to watch him from under her lashes until he sputtered out. In the next moment, she uttered the sultriest thing he’d ever heard.

“Honestly, Rolan, I just want to watch you come all over your robes.”

With that, her grip tugged firmly at the spot where his tail met his ass.

If not for her other hand clamping over his mouth again in the same motion, Rolan would have let out the most humiliating whimper of pure relief. Instead the noise was a muffled strangle of sound as his body gave her exactly what she wanted.

With a full-body shudder, Rolan twitched and spilled inside his trousers. His fingers clutched and dug at Ember’s hips with a mind of their own, pulling her forward shamelessly, allowing him to finally grind against her thigh in earnest as he came.

The wave of long-awaited release shot all the way up his spine with an intensity that made his knees buckle. Ember pressed his hips back against the shelves with her own just enough to catch him, sending the precarious tinkle of metal and glass around the small space—but her hand pumped a few more times over his tail to tease every last wave of pleasure from between his legs.

Rolan’s limbs trembled and shook from the force of the most satisfying climax he’d had in years. As white stars behind his eyelids popped and cleared, hot, sticky spend pooled in the fabric between his legs…then rapidly turned cold and mortifying. All Rolan could do was hang his head over Ember’s shoulder and pant against her hand.

At this moment, he’d give half his tower to know a good Banishment hex.

But if Ember was put off by his loss of control, she certainly didn't show it. Instead she let out a sound like a satisfied purr; she finally released his twitching, oversensitive tail to wrap both arms around his neck.

Rolan felt drunk in his afterglow, too spent to do anything but loop his arms around Ember’s waist and bury his flushed face into her shoulder. He realized through the haze that he'd heard the portal activate a while ago, though it hadn't registered then. They'd been alone in the tower for some time.

“Feel better?” Ember asked, her cheek resting against his shoulder.

It was difficult to answer. On the one hand, he could sob from the relief. On the other, Rolan had just done the most unimpressive thing against the leg of the very woman he wanted to impress most.

But Ember hadn't pushed him away in disgust. She was even closer than before, the length of her body pressed up comfortably against his as she hugged him. If not for the cold wet stain soaking from his clothes into hers, the position would be quite nice.

Rolan cast a simple spell as his energy returned, and the fabric between them was instantly warm and dry again.

“I've felt worse,” Rolan admitted as he reluctantly drew her away. Ember had begun to feel a little too nice pressed up against him; he wasn't taking any chances on a repeat.

“Good.” Ember looked down to brush herself off a little, and Rolan wondered whether he was imagining the darker color in her cheeks.

Without another word, Ember wheeled to open the door and accidentally thumped up against the unyielding wood. “Ouch—”

“Sorry,” Rolan said hastily, releasing the arcane lock with another quick spell and a flash of light. The door swung open.

They both stumbled slightly on the way out, blinded by the daylight streaming through the highly arched windows after so long in a dark enclosed space.

Ember walked ahead first with a hand shielding her eyes. “Well, looks all right out here…they didn’t try to trash the place, at least.”

Rolan glanced at her to respond, then stopped short.

He gaped open-mouthed at the back of her. From between the seams of her costume, Ember’s tail looped up in a perky and exaggerated S-curve. The sight was utterly adorable and incredibly tantalizing all at once. It also offered a very nice view of the curves of her hips, and Rolan could only blink and swallow hard as his mind whirred through several possibilities to land on the obvious one.

Had she enjoyed that?

Apparently unaware that her tail was curling and swaying at him in a come-hither motion, Ember turned back to him with a bright, unsuspecting smile. Rolan rushed to compose his face.

“You should come to my show this week,” she told him. “It’ll be fun. Bring Cal and Lia, relax a little. You’ve gotten all pent up in here,” Ember added, waving an arm around the cavernous tower.

He would say she had no idea, but in fact, Ember now knew intimately well.

Thanks to the electrifying realization that she had some feelings of her own about the matter, Rolan was able to manage a shaky laugh.

“I might just chance it.”

#nsft #spicy #rolan x tav #rolan x oc #tav: ember #oc: ember #fuck me tails #bg3 rolan #rolan bg3 #rolan #catsharky #thank you for letting me take Ember and Rolan out to play!#underdark-dreams #bg3 smut #bg3 fanfiction

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spinderella-umbrella · 10 months ago

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@jegulus-microfic | 27-03; Birthday | 373 words

“Happy birthday Reg,”

James has followed him through the library, coming up behind him and whispering in his ear. He wasn’t sneaky, and Regulus shuddered uncomfortably at the breath on his neck.

Regulus slams the tome he was flicking through closed and replaces it into the shelf, unimpressed at both the nickname and the public familiarity. He whirls around to see James with a stupid smile on his face and his hand behind his back.

“What do you want?” Regulus snaps, raising his chin so he could peer down his nose at James.

He didn’t need to look around to see if anyone could see them. He’s led James here intentionally— but even if someone happens upon them, it will look like what it is. An altercation. Because if James has the gall to have a gift behind his back, Regulus is going to kill him.

“I got you something.” James says the dreaded words.

He feels the fire of frustration burning behind his eyes, and he’s sure if anyone other than James freakin Potter was in front of him, they’d cower.

James just pulls his hand from behind his back and holds up a leather bound journal.

“I noticed you were near the end of yours, so it’s practical, and, you would have had to get a new one anyway, and well, I liked picking it out for you.” He rambles, and Regulus surprises himself by reaching out and taking it, turning it over in his hands.

It’s nice. Really nice. The binding looks hand done, the leather work is precise and shows skill. He unwinds the tie, opening the book to feel the pages— textured hand made paper cut so precisely that there was a clean edge on the pages, just like Regulus liked.

He… loves it. Dammit.

Regulus glances up at James, who is turning red from holding his breath. Why does he even like this moron?

“Breathe, idiot.” Regulus says, rolling his eyes.

James lets out a breath and grins, and okay. That smile might have a little bit to do with it.

“Thank you.” He says quietly, genuinely, before nodding goodbye and walking away. He’ll thank him properly the next time he gets him in a broom closet.

#marauders #maraudersfanfiction #Jegulus #marauders era #regulus black #marauders fanfiction #James potter #yes I’m aware it’s James’ birthday today #but this is what came out of my tired brain sooooo

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brokebonewritings · 11 months ago

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Never Before, Never Again

Astarion x Fem! Reader

Tags/ Warnings: 18+, Angst, Abuse, Death, Mentions of Blood, Smut

Summary: It’s been six month since settling down in Baldur’s Gate with Astarion. After killing Cazador, you notice his aggressive nature taking over. How long will it take for you to be truly done with his wrath.

Word Count: 2.6K

A/N: I want to start off by apologizing but I felt so inspired after the new romance scenes in Patch 6. I also want to say that I will be writing a good ole, fluff fic with Astarion just to make up for this.

Navigation || Masterlist

You paced down the corridor of the palace you now shared with Astarion. It had been 6 months since that fateful night. The killing of Cazador had been eventful so to say and shortly after you had accepted his invitation to be his. Forever.

It wasn't the same. You started noticing it little by little. His attitude towards you had become increasingly aggressive. Feral even.

You couldn't shake off the feeling of unease that lingered in the air whenever Astarion was around. His once charming demeanor had turned into something darker. As you walked through the palace corridors, you couldn't help but feel a sense of foreboding creeping up your spine.

Reaching the library, you decided to throw yourself into your research. You were a scholarly warlock, after all. And work you did. For hours you studied magic texts, and the histories behind them.

As you sat in the dimly lit library, Astarion entered the room with a predatory glint in his eyes. His movements were slow and deliberate, like a predator stalking its prey. When you turned, you tried to shake off the feeling of fear that gripped your chest as he approached you.

"Darling, is this where you've been all day?" His voice was low and dangerous, sending a shiver down your spine. "I've missed you and your delicious body."

The room turned cold as his words sank in. Something had changed in him, something dark and possessive.

You swallowed hard, trying to maintain your composure in the face of his unsettling presence. "I've been busy with my studies," you replied, keeping your tone neutral despite the growing sense of dread in your heart.

The dread whenever he was around had only appeared in the most recent weeks. You tried to focus on the book in front of you, but his proximity was suffocating.

Astarion's hand suddenly shot out and slammed the book shut, causing you to jump in your seat. His grip on the tome was tight, his knuckles turning white as he leaned in close enough for you to feel his cold breath on your skin.

"Studies can wait," he whispered, his voice sending a chill down your spine. "I have other ways for us to spend our time together."

You had to play along. It was the only way to appease him. The only way you could escape.

"How is that, my love?" You say as you rise from your seat, taking his outstretched hand gently.

In a swift motion he pulls you in close to his chest. As he held you tightly against him, his grip almost bruising, you couldn't help but feel a surge of fear mingled with a strange sense of thrill.

His lips brushed against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine as he whispered, "I want to show you a new side of pleasure, my dear. A side that only I can unlock for you." His words were laced with seduction.

As he guided you out of the library and down the dimly lit corridors of the palace, you couldn't shake off the feeling of being led into the unknown.

You found yourself in a room you were very familiar with. The air was heavy with the scent of ancient magic, and as Astarion's eyes gleamed with an otherworldly light, you realized truly you were not in the presence of the man you one knew.

"Darling, did you bring me in here to ravish me?" You say as you begin to remove your silk dress.

Watching his eyes darken with hunger, his lips curled into a sinister smile. He circled around you like a predator assessing its prey, his fingertips trailing lightly along your skin, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

He finally stops behind you and reaches around your neck to grip your jaw. His touch was both possessive and delicate, a stark contrast that sent a wave of conflicting emotions through you. As he tilted your head back to expose your vulnerable throat, you could feel the weight of his gaze burning into your skin.

Astarion's voice was a low murmur against your ear, promising whispered secrets and forbidden desires. "Oh, my sweet little morsel," he murmured, "I am going to make sure there is not a single place on your skinned that is untouched."

His mouth finds the pressure point in your neck and you moan as he gives it a gentle bite. You know he can feel you tremble beneath his hand. He trails his kisses lower until he is able to fully sink his teeth in.

You begin to gasp and writhe under his touch, the intensity of his grip and the sharp sting of his bite both arousing and terrifying. And then, as suddenly as it began, Astarion pulls away, leaving you breathless and exposed.

"Astarion!" You shout, hand covering the bite marks on your neck. "I told you to ask before doing that!"

"I do not need to ask permission! You are mine! I own you!" He grabs your arm pulling you towards him.

That did not stop the tears from beginning to drip down your cheeks. Everything he did not want to become, he was. After countless promises that he was the same rogue you had met that fateful day.

"Oh darling, do you see what you have made me do?" He whispers. "You know I don't like to shout at you."

Astarion's features softened as he saw the tears on my face, though his eyes remained distant and cold. He slowly released my arm and stepped back.

You take a deep breath, trying to calm the tremors in your body. "You need to control yourself, Astarion. You are beginning to change into someone I don't know."

"Of course I am changing. I am the most powerful being in this world." He walks over to the chair by his desk. "Are you doubting me now?"

Shaking your head, you couldn't help but to submit to the question. "No, no. Of course not, love."

He motions with his finger for you to come to him and you obey. When you approach him, he motions for you to kneel before him. Once again you obey his command.

"Here is what we are going to do, pet." He begins "You are going to be a good girl, and do as I say. Understand?"

You nod. "Yes I understand."

"Such a good girl, aren't you?"

He stands and steps forward grabbing hold of your chin and bringing you in for a searing kiss. Once he was satisfied, he pushes against your cheek causing you to fall back roughly. You try to catch your breath as you sit there, staring up at him.

"Get undressed, and sit on the bed for me, darling."

You stand and finally fully undress. You sit on the edge of the bed, feeling the silk sheets beneath you. You didn't know how to react at this point.

He stepped closer until he was looming over you, his shadow engulfing you in its darkness. Then, he reached down and began to trace the outline of your body with his fingers, starting at your neck and moving down to your chest.

"Spread your legs for me," he commands, his voice low and seductive.

You hesitate for a moment, but then you find yourself doing as he says, unable to resist his authority. He takes a moment to enjoy the sight before him, his gaze lingering on each part of your body that he intends to claim.

Finally, he leans down and kisses your inner thigh, his lips barely brushing against your skin. You tremble as he slowly makes his way up, his tongue tracing a path along the delicate flesh. Each touch of his lips and tongue sends shockwaves of pleasure coursing through you.

As his lips reach your most intimate place, you arch your back, your breath coming in short gasps. You feel him tease you, his tongue flicking against you, driving you mad with desire.

Astarion smiles, a wicked smile, as he notices the effect he's having on you. He pulls back slightly, giving you a moment to catch your breath before he begins to devour you. His tongue plunges inside you, sending waves of pleasure through you that threaten to consume you.

You can't help but cry out in pleasure, your hands gripping the sheets beneath you as his tongue moves inside you. You are completely at his mercy, your body arching and writhing as he takes you to heights you never thought possible. Finally, he pulls back, his eyes gleaming with triumph. He leans down and kisses you, allowing you to taste yourself on his lips.

"Now," he says, his voice low and commanding, "It's time for you to learn what it means to truly be mine."

You nod, still reeling from the intensity of the experience. With one swift motion, he grabs your hips as he flips you over. You lay there a moment, listening to the ties of his pants coming undone.

He lifts you up and positions you at the edge of the bed, spreading your legs wide to reveal your vulnerability. His powerful hands grip your hips, and he begins to enter you slowly, his movements deliberate, almost intimate.

You gasp in pain, then pleasure, as the feeling of fullness envelops you, overwhelming your senses. He moves harder, faster, and you can't help but arch your back to meet his thrusts, moaning his name over and over.

He continues to dominate you, his voice a low rumble in your ear, promising you more pleasure than you ever thought possible. Your body responds, writhing beneath him, your hands clutching the sheets, your moans echoing through the dimly lit room.

"That's it, my love," he growls, his voice low and filled with lust. "Take it all."

His thrusts became more erratic, his breath ragged, and you felt his grip on your hips tighten. Astarion's eyes lock on yours, and you see the intensity of his desire reflected in them. With one final thrust, he groans your name, and you feel him spill inside you.

When you feel him slip out of you, you can't help but turn yourself around to face him. You were met with the unpleasant feeling of a sharp dagger being pressed against your chest.

"Astarion?"

"I know exactly what you are planning to do to me, Darling."

The dagger you had hidden in the pocket of your dress was the exact one that was being held against you.

"Please Astarion, it doesn't have to be like this!" You begin to cry. The man you once knew and loved had been left in that chamber.

"Oh, but it does have to be like this." He presses the dagger a little harder causing you to wince in pain. "You were the last person I expected to betray me."

"Betray you?" You choke out, swallowing the lump in your throat. "I... I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, Darling." Astarion's voice is cold and murderous, and you can see it in his eyes. "We both know that's a lie."

He steps closer, the dagger still pressed against your chest. You can feel the cold metal prick you, causing you to jolt in pain.

"Tell me," he demands, his voice barely above a whisper. "What did you plan to do to me?"

"You are becoming exactly like Cazador, Astar-"

"Don't ever mutter his name in here again!" His voice seized with venom. "I am more than he ever was! Smarter, Powerful."

His grip tightened around the dagger, its edge digging deeper into your flesh, drawing a thin line of blood. Your heart raced with fear, but you couldn't help but retort, "And yet, you still lack control."

As he raises the dagger back to plunge it into your chest, you quickly maneuver and shove him into the bed without second thought. The knife falls from his hand and slides onto the floor near your feet.

You take a moment to catch your breath and gather your thoughts. This situation has escalated far beyond what you had anticipated, and now you need to act quickly to save yourself.

Staring into Astarion's eyes, his murderous intent shining back at you. With a surge of adrenaline, you push yourself off the bed and lunge for the dagger on the floor. You manage to grab it just as he jumps to his feet, ready to pounce.

With the dagger in hand, you cautiously back away from him, trying to keep your distance. "Listen to me, Astarion," you say, trying to keep your voice steady despite the trembling in your body. "You have hurt me beyond words can explain! I have had enough!"

"I have given you everything you have ever wanted!"

"And yet you have taken everything I needed!"

Astarion's eyes narrowed at your words, and he took a step towards you, menace radiating from him. You raised the dagger in front of you, preparing to defend yourself if necessary.

"You betrayed me, Darling. You lied to me, and now you want to take my life?"

You shook your head, tears streaming down your face. "I never wanted this! I just wanted.. I just wanted you to be the person you were before, but you've become someone else. Someone I don't recognize."

"I was always this person!" He shouts, you see his hands shaking with anger. "You could not change that even if you tried."

Astarion took a deep breath, his fists clenching and unclenching. You knew he was about to do something that would change the course of both of your lives.

"I'm tired of being your spawn, Astarion."

With that, Astarion lunged at you. The dagger that was held tightly in your hand was raised as you plunged it into his heart. His eyes widen in shock, his breath catching in his throat as the cold steel and wood pierce his chest.

Blood spills from his mouth before he speaks. "I thought you loved me."

"I did love you." You sob, "But I knew for a while that you truly didn't love me."

You watch as his body convulses for a moment before going limp. You step back, staring at the lifeless form before you. The room is silent, only the sound of your ragged breathing filling the space.

Taking a deep breath, the shock of the moment is still fresh in your mind. You never thought it would come to this.

You sink to your knees beside his body, the weight of what you've done heavy on your chest. The blood is still warm as you reach down to touch it, a single tear falling onto his skin.

"I'm so sorry, Astarion," you whisper. "But I had to do it. I had to save you from yourself."

Slowly, you rise to your feet, your legs shaking with the realization of what you've done. You take in the scene before you, the remnants of your love now tainted with blood and death.

Taking a deep breath, you wipe away the blood from your hands, leaving behind a red smudge on the wall. You grab armor from the wardrobe before finally leaving the palace. When you reached the door and opened it, the cool day air felt cool against your skin.

Looking back one final time, you realize just how trapped you had been. Now free, you felt the weight of sadness as you set out on your own once again. You would never let this happen again.

Taglist: @fruityrituals @guacam011y

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#astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion x you #astarion #bg3 astarion #baldurs gate astarion #bg3 #bg3 fic #bg3 fanfiction #astarion fanfic #baldurs gate 3 fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfiction writer #astarion smut

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magnoliasandarson · 9 months ago

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april 27th

In Wayne Manor there is a room unlike any of the other. It is not the Batcave, with all of its wonderful and physics-defying technology. It is not the study with its auspicious clock. It is not the library with its hundreds of rare and mysterious tomes. It is a room in the family wing, two doors down from the master bedroom.

This room is so special because it exists outside of time. In that room, it is always the morning of April 27th, just before dawn.

A small pile of dirty clothes is haphazardly tossed in a hamper next to the armoire. Drafts of half-written essays are scattered over the desk. A long-dead iPod is tucked between the pages of a lovingly annotated copy of Pride and Prejudice. A red hoodie is draped over the back of the desk chair, its pocket still holding a Batarang, a learner's permit, and a pencil.

In the center of the room, on the dusty floor, is a shattered picture frame.

If you were to look past the broken glass and the smallest blood stain, you would see a torn picture of a teenage boy standing between two men in suits. The boy was grinning like he'd won the lottery- crooked teeth on full display and blue eyes sparkling. The man on the right looks proud, also beaming at the camera with his hand clasping the boy's shoulder. The man on the left has his hands behind his back, the smallest smile pulling wrinkles into life on his face. The three looked like their lives had never been better; stood on the steps in front of a courthouse with the boy holding a freshly notarized certificate.

Perhaps that is why the frame was shattered.

Perhaps, on April 27th, in the early hours of the morning, Bruce Wayne knocked on the heavy mahogany door, regretful and wanting to make amends. But when he heard no response, he pushed the door open. Maybe when he saw the picture tossed to the ground, he panicked and dropped to his knees, slicing his fingers open on the glass in his haste to read the note that had been tossed onto the wreckage. The note crumbled in his hands as he raced out, slamming the door behind him.

The room remains untouched from that moment on, except on the 27th of April. Every year, a nightmare will rip Bruce Wayne from his fragile slumber, and he will tear through the manor in a blind panic, throwing the door open with the name Jason on his tongue.

Every year, he is greeted with the room that time forgot, and he falls apart.

#dc comics #dc universe #jason todd #robin #batman #batfam #bruce wayne #april 27 #the death of jason todd #jason peter todd #jason todd wayne #rare good dad bruce wayne post #alfred pennyworth #wayne manor #batfamily

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french-mermaid-outfit · 2 years ago

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A mathematician turns coffee into theorems but what if I told you we could turn theorems *slams ancient tome down in front of you* into coffee

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summer-nights19 · 2 months ago

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Omertá part 3

Romeo Scorpius Lucci x fem reader Part 2

Part 4

As you were eating breakfast in the cafeteria the morning after your deal with Romeo, your phone buzzed from a message notification. Trying not to sigh, you opened it. Who could be bothering you this early in the morning

Unknown number: This is Romeo. Come to my office immediately after finishing breakfast so we can discuss your work for the next week.

You: Ok. How did you get my number ?

Romeo: I'll explain later. Stop wasting time and hurry up.

You put your phone back in your pocket, growing increasingly exasperated. The day had barely started and you already had a feeling it wasn't going to be an easy one. Unfortunately, it couldn't be helped, so after finishing up your coffee, you headed back to Sinostra and straight for Romeo's office.

Once you reached the door, the usual guy standing on guard waved you in dismissively. You assumed Romeo had informed him you'd be coming ahead of time.

"You're late, Y/N. In the future, if I call you to my office, I expect you to be there within five minutes of me sending the message,"

You tried to keep the irritation out of your voice. After all, this was still the man who could technically decide to kill you at any point.

"Mr Lucci, this campus is enormous. Unless I somehow develop the ability to teleport, how am I meant to go from one place to the next in five minutes,"

Romeo glared at you. Looks like you weren't the only one who was irritable in the mornings.

"That's not my problem. Also, it's Fico. I despise being addressed as Mr Lucci- it was my father's title, and I share nothing in common with that WTWUT,"

"WT what ?" What was it with this man and abbreviations ?

"Wall to wall useless trash, obviously," Romeo rolled his eyes at you as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, and you sent a sharp glare in his direction.

"From my experience, Mr Lucci, all men of your ilk are the same. If you want to be called by a different title, you'll have to prove that you're different,"

Gritting his teeth, Romeo scowled. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see him clenching his fist around his expensive fountain pen.

"You'd do well to remember that I can still do whatever I want with your life, Y/N. Keep talking back and you'll see what happens,"

Glowering at him, you took a seat at his desk and decided to leave it at that.

"Why did you call me here ?" You tried to keep your tone as calm as possible, which was no easy task. Apparently, the Sinostra vice captain could get under your skin just as much as you could his.

"I'm here to discuss your work for today. If our agreement is to amount to anything, you should try to become familiar with how the Casino works. We still have an hour before we open officially, so read this,"

Romeo reached under his desk and took out a thick, leather bound notebook, which he thrusted in your direction. As you skimmed through it, you frowned.

"What is this ?"

"The full record of business activities, investments, costs and profits for the last six months. I'd recommend you read it before you start working,"

"Before ?? You mean I'll be doing something other than studying this tome all day ?"

Romeo sighed, and he glared at you as if you'd just asked the world’s stupidest question.

"Obviously ! You will experience all the positions in our casino. In the morning, you'll do all the front of the house work - that includes card dealers, cleaning, and waitressing. Then, in the afternoon, you'll experience some of the less ... public positions with a few of my underlings. You'll just be picking up cargo and dropping something off to a customer, so even you could manage that,"

You looked at him, trying to work out if he was joking or not, but when you met his gaze, his face was completely deadpan.

"You're trying to say that I need to do all that work today ? That would take like eight employees !"

Romeo slammed his hand down on his desk, causing piles of documents to collapse and flutter to the ground.

"Be silent ! If you want to live, you'll follow my orders,"

Taking a deep breath in, you looked down at the notebook and started to study it. There was no point in delaying the inevitable. You saw Romeo smirk to himself out of the corner of your eye as you started skimming the notebook, but you decided a reaction wasn't worth the effort.

After about half an hour of silent study of the records, you cleared your throat.

"Mr Lucci, I think I've located a potential issue. A lot of your slot machines have people winning too frequently, so you're not really making much of anything from them. If I had to make a rough estimate, I'd say halving the odds would maximise your profits. Also, with the roulette table-" you completely lost your train of thought as you noticed how Romeo was looking at you. His face was almost the same unreadable mask he'd worn last night, but now, he looked kind of interested, maybe even a little impressed. You could see a smirk forming on the corners of his lips.

"Keep going, BB. For once you're saying something of value,"

Deciding to ignore the jab, you resumed your explanation of how he could tweak the casino games to maximise his profits,trying to give him rough estimates where possible. By the end, he was fully smirking, and his face almost seemed to have lost some of that coldness.

"I knew you could be useful if you tried hard enough. Good girl,"

You felt your face heating up as he praised you, so you decided to avert your gaze. Maybe you were coming down with a fever after the stress of the last few days.

"Also, Y/N, you should take this. I can't stand seeing your hands in such horrible shape," This time, Romeo took out a jar from one of his desk drawers and placed it next to you.

You looked down. It was luxury hand cream, imported directly from Italy. Trying not to laugh, you thanked Romeo and put it on your bag. He did seem like the kind of person who would want to get everything from back home, no matter how expensive and impractical.

"Maybe I do have a last bit of advice, Mr Lucci. You should stop spending so much of your earnings on fancy trinkets and reinvest some in your casino," this time, you were the one smirking, your eyes glinting with silent laughter as you finally looked up at Romeo.

"I also have advice, BB. Keep such useless and ridiculous insights to yourself. Now leave, they're expecting you at the roulette table in five minutes,"

Rolling your eyes, you slung your bag over your shoulders and walked out of the office, mentally preparing yourself for the start of what was sure to be a very long day.

Masterlist

#tokyo debunker #tokyo debunker fanfiction #tokyo debunker x reader #tkdb #tdb #tokyo debunker romeo #tokyo debunker romeo lucci #romeo lucci x reader #romeo scorpius lucci #romeo lucci

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im-ovulating · 1 year ago

Text

(A/n: Told you it'd be up soon😅😘)

Word Count: 2,007

Summary- How do you expect Lucio to deny a treat such as yourself?

Warnings: Con Noncon, Mentions of "deflowering" (social construct but🤷‍♀️), anal, a singular slap at the beginning, fingering, unprotected sex- no creampie, let me know if i missed any

Age Rating: 18+ Minors DNI

Count Lucio x Male! Reader: Corruption + Anal; Kinktober 2023

--------------------------

The palace library is filled with the steady shuffling of paper as you flip through various spell books.

Asra has been trying to teach you how to enter the Arcana Realm on your own but you just can't seem to grasp it. So here you are: sorting through book after book to try to figure it out. Sure, Asra would be more than happy to give you extra help, but you can't bring yourself to ask. Not after everything they have done for you already.

Just as you let out a sigh, about to give up for the day, the library doors slam open. You don't even have to look to know who it is. But you do, because he's the count and something about respect, yada yada yada.

You politely nod in acknowledgement even though you're trying to keep your eye from twitching in annoyance. You're already stressed between Asra's new task and the general mayhem that comes from being the count's personal magician.

Namely, the count's particular fascination with making you do measly magic tricks as though you're a court jester - it makes you regret ever accepting the Countess's offer.

"Ah! Y/n! What a wonderful surprise!" Count Lucio exclaims as he strides over to you.

As if he came to the library for any reason other than wanting to bother you.

"Count Lucio," you deadpan, continuing to flip through the pages in front of you.

He perches on the table, not bothering to move the priceless tomes and scrolls. You cringe as the papers crinkle and crunch under his weight.

"I'll never understand why you choose to bury yourself in such a dark, dusty room," he absently flips a book closed as he glances at the papers with a screwed up face. "If I didn't know any better I would think you like these books more than me~"

'Guess you don't know better, then…' you think bitterly.

"Do you require my assistance with something, your Excellency?"

His lips twist into a nasty smirk, sending a chill down your spine.

"I do, actually~"

Rubbing your temples you bookmark the tome you're looking through and set it aside. "And that would be with..?"

Over the course of your time at the palace, you've come to learn that the count has little to no regard for personal space when it comes to the people he favors, -unfortunately, you're one of the most favored of his staff- so you don't think much of it as he grabs your wrist and brings your hand toward him.

That is, until he places your hand on his lap. Specifically, his notably hard crotch.

His grip tightens when you move to yank your hand back.

"Sir-"

"Ah, ah ah~ You know what happens to people who upset me~" The Count chides.

The threat behind his words makes you freeze as images flash through your mind.

Various staff members who have been executed in various ways. From public hangings to being chased down by Mercedes and Melchior.

"There's a smart boy~" Count Lucio sing-songs. "You will do as I say, when I say it. Understand?"

Your jaw is set as you numbly nod.

"Good boy… Now, strip." He commands as releases your wrist to shrug off his jacket, leaving his torso bare.

You'd be lying if you said the count wasnt insanely attractive. Or that you hadn't thought about almost this exact situation before. But reality is different from fantasies.

A slap to the face snaps you out of your thoughts. You keep your head snapped to the side as he speaks.

"I said: strip."

With no other choice, you stand, slowly peeling layer after layer off until you're standing bare before him. Keeping your eyes to the ground, you wait for his next order as embarrassed tears prick at your eyes.

"Fuck… Look at you- better than I imagined." He breathes.

The tears slip down your cheeks as the praise causes your cock to start to twitch to life.

Horror dawns on you as you realize he said 'Imagined'... That means he's thought this… That he planned it. Oh, gods…

"C'mere."

His voice brings you back. Numbly, you move your legs until you're in front of him. He yanks you to stand between his legs.

"Open your mouth." Dropping your jaw open, your hands clench into fists at your side. Why you? Why couldn't this be happening to another staff member?

You know it's an awful thought, but you can't help it.

His fingers are heavy on your tongue as he slides them in to the knuckle. "Now suck."

The count's intense gaze never leaves you as you suck and swirl your tongue around his digits. You close your eyes in shame as your cock stands at attention between you. You know it's just a primal response, but the disgrace still fills you.

Even more so when you acknowledge the small part of you that's enjoying the attention. The part of you that whispers about all the times you imagined being bent over by him and fucked until you couldn't walk; reminds you of all the times you've feverishly tugged at yourself to the thougbt of him until you were spilling into your bath water.

After his fingers are thoroughly slicked, Count Lucio pulls his hand back and slips it behind you. You jump as you feel his wet fingers slip between your ass cheeks and trace around your hole.

"Wait!" You yelp, taking a step back. Which, with the way the pressure makes his finger breach you, does anything but help the heat in your face. "What are you doing?"

The count's head tilts to the side as he leans back against his metal arm. You try not to let the way his abs tense with the movement get to you. Try.

Raising an eyebrow he says, "Well, I was going to prepare you to take my cock, but, if you'd prefer no preparation, I'm happy either way…"

His dismissive attitude has you sputtering.

"So?" He asks, "Prepped or not prepped?"

"Well- I- Um- Wh-" You can feel the heat in your chest with how embarrassed you are. You're standing in front of Vesuvia's ruler, as naked as the day you were born, being asked how you like to be fucked. Please let a hole open up beneath you and swallow you whole…

Count Lucio rolls his eyes and huffs a sigh, "Prepped it is. Now- forearms on the table." He stands from his perch.

Hesitating, you just glance between him and the table. This is actually happening…

"Now."

His tone carries the authority of the fearless commander he's known to be and it has you shuddering as you lean over a couple scrolls.

"Good boy~"

You suck in a breath at the appraisal. Your hips jerk as he starts to push his fingers into you once more.

He pushes the first finger in until what you guess is the second joint before pulling it out and joining it with another finger. The count slowly starts to scissor you open.

"This is wrong…" you whimper out and the dirty feeling washing over you. "This is so, very wrong…" Fresh tears flow from your eyes as the count ruins you.

"Oh, baby, the only thing wrong right now, is you." You can feel his warmth as he leans over you to whisper in your ear. His fingers continue to force small whines from your lips as they pump in and out of you. "This isn't right, the body isn't meant for this…"

"Wait a minute-" Count Lucio pauses with a grin. "You don't mean the situation, do you?" Your bottom lip trembles as you shake your head.

"Please, don't do this to me," you whisper as your forehead falls to the table in defeat.

"Oh~" you can hear the growing smirk in his voice.

"Oh, I'm going to ruin you, my little magician~" he growls out.

His fingers start up with a renewed vigor and he speaks.

"Gonna ruin this tight little hole. Gonna ruin you for anyone else; you're never gonna be able to even think about anyone else after I'm done with you."

All of a sudden his fingers are gone and something much bigger is pushing at your rim. When did he undo his pants?

"Please… Lucio-"

Before you can get the rest of your plea out, you're interrupted.

"Godsdamn it-" He groans. "Drop the "Count" from now on. My name sounds so good coming from your lips, baby…"

You cry out as the count starts to push in. Not out of pain, but because you're never going to be intact again. Facing the ultimate shame has you once again cursing at the Arcana for not choosing someone else to be deflowered in this way.

You're sobbing into the tabletop by the time Lucio bottoms out. You can feel his metal fingers contrasting his flesh on your opposite hip; the sharp, gold digits digging into your skin as he starts to pull out.

You're babbling various pleas and protests as he thrusts back in. Your words fall on deaf ears as he starts to pick up the pace. Your cries mix with his pleasured curses fill the otherwise empty library.

One particularly hard thrust has you screaming out in pleasure and pain as he slams into your prostate- over and over the bundle of nerves takes the hits. Over and over you clench your eyes as you jaw goes slack. The most obscene noises leave you, noises you didn't know you could make.

"Fucking hell-" Lucio hisses as he snaps his hips against yours, "Feel so fucking good; look at you sucking me in so eagerly. And to think- hah- you were so against this."

You can't bring yourself to answer. Your cheek is smushed against the wooden table as you get shoved up and down it with every thrust. The shiny surface fogs with each pant and moan that escapes you.

You can feel yourself climbing closer and closer to the edge, your balls start to tighten as the pain of neglect becomes almost too much for your leaking cock.

"Please…" You don't know what you're begging for at this point. You've already been ruined. Why not capitalize on it?

"Please, Lucio… I- I can't-'' You're still sobbing, but it's more from frustration than anything by now. The pleasure coursing through you with each stroke too much yet not enough. Not enough to make you cum.

In your desperation, you sneak your hand beneath you, damning any shame that action makes you feel, and grip the base of your cock, stroking your hand in time with Lucio's thrusts.

"Hah- Aughhh~" Your eyes roll back at the added pleasure, your hazy mind forgetting how wrong this is.

"C'mon," Lucio growls behind you. "C'mon, baby- cum for me." His grip is searing as his movements get somehow wilder. More erratic, more rough. It makes you insane.

With a final hit to your prostate, you cum with a cry. Your vision dances with black as you feel a sudden emptiness followed by something warm hitting the back of your thighs.

"Fuck…"

You don't know who says it… It could have been both of you for all you know.

"You okay, baby?" Lucio asks, taking his jacket and pulling you up, into a hug. "I wasn't too rough?"

A small smile plays at your face as you think back to the scene that just played out.

"It was perfect…" you nuzzle into his bare chest. "Thank you for indulging me, I know it's a bit weird to get turned on by that kind of stuff…"

Lucio rests his chin on your head as he speaks, "It's not weird baby boy- out of the ordinary, maybe, but it's not weird. And if I can help you indulge in even a fraction of your fantasies, then I've done my job right."

He lifts your chin up to place a kiss on your forehead, then the tip of your nose, finally landing on your lips.

Reblogs are appreciated!🛐

#count lucio x reader #count lucio x mc #count lucio smut #kinktober 2023 #the arcana smut #the arcana count lucio #the arcana #the arcana x mc #the arcana x reader

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verifiefangirl · 4 months ago

Text

I've been rewatching Shadowhunters and just bear with me.

If you want to hit peak sad vibes read it with this is me trying.

Azriel is training with the girls and he notices Gywn seems off. Her smile wasn't as dazzling. Instead of her usual irreverence there seems to be a heavy weight on her shoulders. Her usual teasing and goading non-existence. Azriel is usually observant but he'd been paying special attention to the priestess lately. Even Nesta hadn't sensed something was bothering her yet. He knew better than to push but his eyes stayed glued to the other half of the ring throughout the whole session even though she was technically Cassian's charge.

Most of the trainees had dispersed after class but Gywn always went the extra mile to get a half an hour in alone. On a usual day, Az would either offer his teachings if his schedule wasn't packed which seemed fewer these days with the amount of responsibilities on his plate but today he just leaned against the archway and watched, his hazel eyes lost in thought as he catalogued her moves and her seemingly building frustrations. As she moved to the side of the ring to leave, ignoring his presence the whole time. He gently encircled her wrist with his fingers, stopping her in place.

"Berdara." His voice was deep like gravel, his all seeing eyes flickering over her worn form. Her breathing was rough from exertion, skin wan. Their eyes locked for a brief second and the amount of pain washing through those teal eyes knocked the breath from his chest. She jerked out of his touch and continued her descent down the house stairs without looking back.

It had been couple weeks since that incident and neither had spoken since that day. The following training sessions had followed a similar pattern with Gywn's mood plummeting further. Cassian, along with the other charges made sure to give the flamed-haired, nymph a wide bearth, in and out of training.

Azriel didn't know why he chose to go to the library. His shadows had been pressing on him all day, whispering utter nonsense. He told himself it was because he needed more resources on the otherworlds and nothing to do with the Valkyrie that resided there.

Clotho bowed her head to him in greeting. You seem more restless than usual this evening, Shadowsinger.

"Just some unfinished business." He mumbled back flatly as he disappeared inbetween the stacks. His wings were tucked in tight and body stiff. His fingers skimmed over multiple tombs until he found the one he was after. On a normal occassion he would just grab his books and go back to his office but his shadows urged him to watch, to listen.

He sighed. He could already feel a migraine coming on. He couldn't remember the last time he had gotten more than two hours of sleep in. His tired eyes skimmed over words and symbols. The sound of his pen scratching over parchment filling the silent air of the library.

He didn't know how much time had passed but he could feel a crick forming on his neck. He stood up to stretch, his muscles stiff from sitting for so many hours. He heard a slight shuffling coming from a level below the sound of voices. He stilled, knowing it was none of his business at all what was bothering Gywn but he went below anyway against his better judgement. His shadows were swirling like crazy around him.

He had every intention of making his presence known but stopped in his track when heard a white haired female berating Gywn. Every bone his body straightened at the tone.

"You are worthless, Gwyneth." She sniped as she slammed a tome in front of her.

"How am I supposed to read your sloppy writing." Gywn softly whispered something back that his ears couldn't make out.

"What are you good for if you can't do such a simple task that even five year olds have perfected. Mother above, you call yourself a priestess. Why have you been shackled to me? " She groaned.

Anger so hot choked Azriel. He wanted to roar at her for speaking to Gwyn who was one of the most capable people he knew in such a way. He knew that was a bad idea and took all his restraint to not defend her. He knew how as a male he was already intimidating in this place but add his darkness and shadows and he was terrifying sight, just like his father.

"I-I...I'm sorry, Merill." Gywn voice was shaky and her entire demeanour was defeated. Merill just looked at Gwyn in disgust before she stalked into another row of books.

Azriel watched as Gywn took a deep breath, trying to steady herself but he could see the tremble of her lips and the way her fingers kept opening and closing.

She turned to make a move back to the desks in the centre when she came face to face with him.

"Azriel!" Her voice conveying surprise. He could feel the shame rolling over her in waves. Her eyes were turned to the floor as her hands went behind her back.

"Are you okay?" His tone was soft but his eyes were still a hazel storm.

"Of course." She tried to play it off like it was nothing but her irreverent nature was nowhere to be found. Her lips still trembled and her eyes were like sea glass as they glistened.

"Gywn..." It was one of the few times he used her name and it seemed to break something inside of her. The dam had finally broken and a sobbed strangled in her throat as her hands went to her face to cover her tears.

"Everything she said is true, I couldn't save my sister, I couldn't complete the bloodrite on my own and I can't even write some damn notes for Merill. How can I call myself a priestess let alone a Valkyrie." Her body shook from how hard the tears were pouring out of her.

"She's wrong and you are too." He merely shrugged, knowing this would infuriate her. He could handle her annoyance, her anger, her teasing. Anything but that hopeless look in her eyes.

"You don't know anything about me." She scathed. He shrugged again, feigning calmness when he was anything but.

"I know enough to know this isn't you. You are a fighter and a scholar and the bestest friend Nesta has ever had. You are a Carythian and a Valkyrie and a Priestess. That is more achievements than most would ever accomplish in 10 lifetimes and sometimes what we think to be our greatest weakness is our biggest strength."

The Nephelle philosophy.

Gwyn blinked at him, stunned for a second.

"Thank you." the sound a mere whisper, tears still streaming down her face. She tentatively wrapped her arms around him. Both of their bodies went stiff. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been embraced by a women whom he wasn't in a physical relationship with. She made to pull away, clearly finding it too awkward but he wrapped his arm around her and pulled her in closer. His breath ruffling her strands of hair. She melted into him now and his fingers gentled over her head as his eyes fluttered shut and he just enjoyed this moment. He felt warm and...and something else he couldn't quite name the emotion but it was nice to have a friend such as Gwyn. Who was fierce and loyal and went to the mat over and over again and she was here, hugging him and thanking him...He felt good..in a way he hadn't for many centuries now.

Thank you for listening to my ramblings. I have no doubt I'll have more Az inspo as I continue to rewatch the show and see more of the snacc off a man on screen and the way they both have that long they both have a long suffering vibe about them. Someone give these two characters a break with pina coladas

#Azriel #Azriel imagine #Alec is so Azriel coded in the show lol #gwynriel #gwyneth berdara #verified tag #verified writing #verified imagine #gwyn berdara #gwyn acosf #shadow daddy #shadowsinger

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scrapsovereign · 3 months ago

Text

Kinktober Day 18 - Body Worship

Prompt List

Word Count: 3.1k - ish (I swear I didn't intend for it to be this long)

Pairing: Fat Female Reader/OC x Ascended Astarion

Rating: Explicit

Additional tags: Astarion is kinda soft but also kind of a dick, internalized fatphobia, maybe some feeding....maybe???, slavery, masturbation, is it body worship if HE makes YOU do the praising?, vampires love fat girls those are the rules and I didn't make them up

This work is HEAVILY inspired by “A Night With The Ascendant” by PursuitsEternal, the brain rot set in when I started to daydream about what it would be like to be Astarion’s pleasure slave and it never let go

(posted with LITERAL MINUTES to go before 12am PST bahahahhaahha)

“Come along now, don’t dawdle, girl. Let’s not keep the master waiting.”

You barely register the raven-haired man’s clipped words. Your feet covered in silk slippers pad along the cool marble floors, calves aching as you try to keep up with his pace. The attire (if it could be called that) of fine gold chains and gossamer chafes and stimulates the sensitive parts of you underneath the beautiful, buttery silk robe that covers it as you move along.

He leads you through a labyrinth of hallways that twist and turn, some in various stages of renovation and repair. While great care has been taken to preserve the craftsmanship of the halls, the decor is significantly different from one area to the next. Rich burgundy and mahogany are replaced with ivory and gold, heavy velvet window treatments to block out the sun being replaced by airy chiffon.

Not at all how you’d expected the place to look.

The act of assessing your surroundings as you walk swiftly behind the pale, raven-haired man quickly drains your energy reserves. Your head spins as you reach a set of doors at which he turns around to face and address you.

“You are to address the master as ‘master’ or ‘my lord’. Do not speak unless you are spoken to. If you displease him, you risk the fate of your mortal life ending in a giant bloody puddle on the floors. I advise against this, as this was the fate of your predecessor and I don’t much feel like cleaning up that sort of mess again. When your time here is done, you will exit these doors and wait for someone to collect you and bring you back to your room. Am I understood?”

“Yes,” you lie, struggling to keep yourself upright.

He grunts in approval, turning to knock a pattern on the set of doors, the anticipation of what’s behind them making your empty stomach lurch.

“Enter.”

You are hardly given a moment to collect yourself and take a steadying breath before you are thrust in front of him. He follows closely behind you as you make your way to a desk before a panel of glass windows, the sheer curtains ruffling gently in the midday breeze.

An elf with attractively mussed silver curls peers down through reading glasses at a large, musty tome- one of many crowding the surface of his desk. He scribbles furiously with his quill on a scroll you cannot see, stopping only once to refresh the implement with ink before he continues. He worries the corner of his lower lip gently with an elongated canine, hunching over to squint as he re-reviews the passage in the ancient book before him.

“The girl you summoned, my lord.”

He gives you a cursory glance of bored indifference before he freezes, slowly trailing his crimson gaze up your curves to really, fully take you in.

Your eyes meet with his for only a moment before you remember yourself, looking down obediently to the floor.

Away from the face of the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen.

You jump at the sound of the book being slammed shut, cringe at the forceful exhale made through his nose as he rises from his desk. Adrenaline sets your heart hammering in your ears, your senses made sharp once again. He makes his way over to you and you flinch where you stand, using every last bit of your willpower to stay still as he raises his elegant, manicured hand.

Not to strike your face, but to caress it.

“Gods below us, what have you done to her?” he snarls at the raven-haired man.

“She was…larger than described, so I thought to lean her out a bit before she was presented to you,” he sputters, his voice thin and reedy.

The hands that hold your face in his tender grasp are warm- similar to the sunlight that streams in through the room’s large, open glass windows.

“I never ordered this,” the elf snaps, brushing a thumb over your cheek. “Tell me darling, when was your last meal? What did they serve you?”

“Last night- a few bites of roast chicken and a handful of vegetables…my lord,” you add quickly, your face heating with shame at almost forgetting to address him properly.

He scoffs, the displeasure radiating off of him in waves as he inspects you.

His touch, however, remains gentle.

“Hardly enough to sustain one’s self. For how long?”

You look up at the raven-haired man again, seeing the sweat that is starting to form on his brow. “Since I arrived a tenday ago, my lord. The same meal, once every day.”

The elf’s jaw twitches in response.

“I see. We should still have the dried, smoked tuna and the salted salmon in our stores,” the elf states, removing his glasses and placing them on the desk with care. “Do you remember the dish that…he would prepare for our mortal guests when they were ill? Have the kitchens prepare it and send one of the staff to bring it to us.”

“It will be done, my lord.”

“Oh, and Dufay?”

“Yes, my lord?”

“Your meals shall be limited to one goblet, once per day for a tenday. Starting now-”

“Master, I-”

“Starting. Now,” the elf growls, and you swear that you see his red eyes glow…though you might be hallucinating in your hunger. “Pick your jaw up off the floor, and begone from my sight before I change my mind.”

The raven-haired man gives a single bow from the hinge of his hips to acknowledge his orders. He disappears from sight, as quiet as a whisper of smoke.

Your heartbeat begins to race as you realize you’re now alone…with him.

The man that had chosen you as homage in place of coin or crops from his lands. The man that, according to Dufay, had reduced the person brought to him before you to nothing more than viscera and blood. The man who was rumored to be the only and first day-walking vampire, his powers bought and paid for with the sacrifice of 7000 tortured souls.

“He’s lucky that I need him to run the damned place, and between us I think he knows it,” he confides in you, the warmth of his hand moving down to the column of your throat to rest on your pulse. “On to more pleasant matters. What’s your name, pet?”

You almost don’t say it, and when you do, it comes out as a trembling whisper.

He repeats your name, his velvety drawl wrapping around you in a cocoon that soothes your ragged nerves.

“Pretty,” he comments with a cock of his head to the side, pulling his hand away. Your chest aches at the loss of his touch, the world seeming a little less bright as he distances himself from you, setting himself down in a plush chair by the fireplace.

“Come to me.”

You move obediently towards him, your legs wobbling like a newborn fawn with every step forward. A dull headache sets in as you ponder what’s going to happen next. If any of the tales you’ve heard are true, your fate has been sealed as a lamb sent to slaughter. You make up your mind to endure the last few moments of your life peacefully- with what dignity you have left after you’d been isolated, starved, then dressed up and trotted out before him.

He giggles then, the high-pitched sound of his odd laughter piercing your chest.

“Poor darling. I suppose you’ve heard all sorts of stories about me, haven’t you?” he inquires, reaching out to gather your hand in his. Your heart soars with his touch, filling with that addictive, intoxicating warmth. He guides you into his lap and nestles his head against your breast, sighing with contentment. “What’s the thing that’s shocked you the most?”

Oddly enough, it’s not the fact that he could be a vampire. It was an open secret that the lord that previously held these lands was one himself.

No, there’s another fact that’s sitting at the front of your mind, something far more personal.

“That you would agree to accept me as tribute.”

A young tiefling woman appears then, silent as a ghost as she sets a side table before you. She catches you staring at her as she sets the table and winks at you, revealing a bowl of steamed rice with bits of pink salmon over the top. She pours a honey-colored liquid into it from a teapot, setting it down and disappearing before you have the thought to thank her.

The elf reaches over and picks up an oddly-shaped spoon resembling a miniature ladle, gathering a little bit of everything into it before he raises it to his mouth.

Your eyes are drawn to his plush, soft lips, blowing on the contents of the spoon to cool them down. Heat pools low in your belly as you imagine how they would feel on yours, how sweet they might taste.

“Eat.”

He raises the spoon to your mouth and you consume the strange, delicious contents with hesitation- aren’t you supposed to serve him? Isn’t this supposed to be the other way around?

“This dish is called ochazuke. You could say it’s an old family recipe,” He begins before cooling another spoonful and raising it to your mouth. “Good, no? It should give you some strength back.”

After a few more spoonfuls consumed in tense silence, he speaks again.

“Why do you believe yourself to be unworthy?”

You look down to the floor, away from him.

“My lord, I’m sure that there were prettier-” Your speech is interrupted by the eating utensil shoved in your mouth, not leaving until you swallow its contents down.

“Any idiot with eyes can see how lovely you are,” he intones harshly. “Try again.”

The compliment goes straight between your legs in spite of its delivery. Your mind races through the fog of lust that threatens to set in, trying to find the best way to hedge around the owlbear in the room. His broad, lean chest has enough width to accommodate you, but isn’t he feeling cramped for space? Aren’t his muscular thighs complaining from having you atop his lap?

You accept the last of the savory and sweet rice dish, your courage returning with your body’s renewed vigor.

“It is because of my size, my lord.”

He chuckles, leaning forward to politely set the utensil aside, next to the bowl.

“And there it is. I believe you deserve to have a little fun for your honesty, no?” He purrs, ensuring you are gathered in his arms.

“Hold on tight to me, little love.”

You yelp with surprise as your lord stands, lifting you as if you weighed nothing, carrying you out of the room.

“Where are we going?” You ask impulsively, cringing inwardly when you realize you’ve spoken out of turn.

“A place where I can teach you a lesson,” he says with a bit of a growl. You bite down on your lower lip, feeling your pussy clench in hopes that it’s the sexy kind. “ Alright then, here we are.”

The double doors in front of you open with a wave of his hand, your lord carrying you over the threshold of one doorway, and through another. The decor of the rooms matches that of the rest of the new renovations, with the elevated staples you’d become accustomed to in your time here. Silken fabrics, plush imported carpets, painstakingly crafted furniture- and you’re guessing that by the size of the innermost room and the presence of the massive, 4-post bed that this is his personal bedroom.

As you near the bed, your legs squeeze together and your clit twitches when you spot the silken fabric tied around the posts. Is this how he’s going to teach you a lesson? By tying you up and having his way with you?

He chuckles then, a low, dark sound of amusement as if he can read your thoughts. “Maybe another day. I have a different activity in mind.”

You enter his wardrobe, a room that is easily the size of your family’s meager home in Tumbledown. He sets you down to stand in front of a large ornate mirror, coming up behind you, pressing the warmth of his body against the thin silks of your robe.

It is then that you notice what is unmistakably his erection pressed against you, poking at the small of your back.

“We’re going to play a game,” he drawls, the heat of his breath against the nape of your neck making a shiver run through you. “You’ll look upon yourself and name what you like. If you can list at least ten things, I’ll give you a reward of your choosing.”

“Yes, my lord,” you assent, already wondering how bold you can be with your prize.

“Let’s give it a go then, hmm? Untie your robe for me.”

Your trembling fingers hastily undo the knot at the front of the silken robe, resisting the temptation to look away when his deft fingers slide it off your shoulders.

The sharp inhale from the man behind you and the twitch of his hardness pressing into your back does not go without your notice.

You meet your own gaze, slowly acknowledging the sinful vision of golden chains and jewels artfully draped around your figure. The deep v neckline of the gathered, gossamer silk gown you wear above the layer of body jewelry splits over each leg high on the hip, teasing a preview of what it hides below. You’d never thought in your wildest dreams you’d wear anything that resembles this. It must be custom-made, the way that it brings attention to the right places, hiding the spots you feel insecure about.

A small smile forms at the corners of your mouth- whoever picked this out knows what they’re doing.

And If you’re being honest? You’re a little turned on by how sexy you look.

Your lord takes a deep inhale, as if he’s caught the scent of something addictive in the air.

“Don’t keep a man waiting,” he leans in, rumbling the words inches away from your ear. “Tell me what you see.”

You start in safer, known waters at first. “I like my eyes, the makeup that the maids put on really brings out the color.”

“And my freckles, even though I used to get teased for them when I was a kid,” you add with defiance, squaring your shoulders, standing a little straighter.

This pleases your lord, your heart beating a little faster when a smile graces his lips.

Encouraged by this, you continue.

“I like…how I look in the dress that’s been chosen for me,” you say, letting the words fall from your lips without a second thought before you have a chance to doubt yourself. “I like the way it shows off my cleavage, it makes me look like I have legs for days.”

“Indeed you do,” he breathes, your ears picking up the sound of fabric rustling behind you. “Go on then, what else?”

“It shows off my arms, which I’ve always liked,” you admit, proud of the strength you’ve built over the years. “And the curve of my calves.”

“And what of the curves that your dress disguises?” He asks, his voice a low, seductive purr. “Take it off.”

The command to fully reveal yourself is the key you need to unshackle the chains of shame that have held you back. You loosen the ties that keep the dress held in place, letting the fabric fall away from you, pooling on the ground at your feet.

You have three more things to name but many more reveal themselves, a veritable galaxy of discoveries waiting to be called out.

“I like how shapely my rear is,” you observe, your eyes widening in shock as you feel the warm, velveteen rod that pushes up against it in mutual appreciation.

“As do I, but I’m quite certain you’re aware of that by now,” he laughs, his amusement giving way to a lusty groan as you feel his cock glide across the curves of your backside.

You watch the rise and fall of your chest, admiring the shape of your nipples pebbled underneath the gold chains that frame them. You ponder how appropriate it is to mention until you spot him reaching into his coat pocket, opening up a small vial you suspect is lubricant. His kohl-lined eyes squeeze shut in relief as he empties the contents, begins working his arm up and down on his length.

All decorum has officially left, flown out the window now that he strokes himself, giving you the courage to speak your musings out loud.

“I like the shape of my nipples,” you declare boldly, a glint in the mirror catching your eye as you speak.

Following the glimmer, your attention is drawn to the apex of your thighs, stealing your breath away. Your labia is swollen with desire, your cunt dripping clear, slick juices of arousal down your thighs. A whimper escapes from your throat as you see your clit twitch, the enlarged nub begging to be touched- worshiped by the man pleasuring himself from the sight of you- ALL of you.

“I like how my…” your voice cracks and goes dry- Gods, are you really about to say this out loud?

“I like how my…pussy looks, wet like this and ready for you, my lord.”

Strong arms grasp at you and whirl you around. He captures your jaw with his thumb and forefinger, forcing your chin up to look at him, to meet his burning ruby gaze.

“I have a suggestion for your reward,” he rasps, his body trembling as he speaks. “I’d like you to watch me lick that delightful cunt of yours clean and make you cum with my mouth and my fingers, and then watch you bounce on my cock in front of the mirror.”

He licks his lips, his eyes fixated on the wetness between your legs. “And by the looks of things, I’d say that's what you want as well.”

“Yes, my lord,” you admit breathlessly, “I can’t think of anything I’d like more.”

“Good.”

His lips mash yours in a hungry, open-mouthed kiss. His tongue thrusts itself forcefully between your lips, and when you submit to him, the sinful moans he sings into your mouth are the sweetest song you’ve ever heard.

A sharp object in his mouth catches the bottom half of your lips, creating a small cut that he noisily sucks at. He wrenches himself away and you whine from the loss of him, leaning forward into the space he previously occupied.

“Ahhh…delicious,” he groans obscenely before pushing you backwards onto a wide tufted bench centered in the mirror’s view, falling to his knees before you. He grasps on to your hips and drags you to the very edge, wrenching your thighs open.

“One more thing, pet- I want to hear you call out my name when you cum.”

You nod with gusto in response. “Which is, my lord?”

He pauses to give you a rakish, dangerous smile before he leans down to taste you, devour you.

“Astarion.”

#bg3 kinktober #bg3 kinktober 2024 #kinktober prompts #ascended astarion #ascended astarion fanfic #ascended astarion x oc #fat oc #vampires love fat girls its canon #astarion x reader

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siremasterlawrence · 9 hours ago

Text

Creating Aiden

My name is Aiden now made to be the fully property of Master Lawrence because you belong to me the one and only king of the universe to serve him for the rest of his life and my existence. I use to be named Alan a hot shot, sexy stud with a massive muscle body made to be worshiped by others that was me but now I see I wrong and you won’t imagine how this happen to me and all it took. He took me a side of the house pretending to place me in to micro pod in the back room upstairs locking me as he is sealing me tight in with such a exciting glow to his skin as he became a hero and all I know is that I am in deep trouble. He slid a key out placing in to the key hole as I turn the key switching it up the door blows up with light washing over the room a load of gas shooting in to the pods putting me to sleep.

“Hello Welcome! Follow me inside to preview the house and offer a deal.”

“Is this a full automated Real Estate deal?”

“Yes”

“Wow! Awesome”

“Please enter the room “

“It’s empty! What’s going on?”

“Mwahahahahaha! Welcome home!”

“HELP Help!”

“No one can hear you”

“Take a deep breath”

“Sleep gas activated “

“Why are you…doing…this?”

“It’s my job”

“I am programmed to hold Aiden”

“Aiden is all connected “

“Aiden activated”

“Perfection! Commence mind link”

“Aiden is home “

“Aiden process him”

“This is his body now! Do you understand?”

“WHO’s body?”

“Aiden’s “

“I comprehend “

“Yes! I here and obey”

“Excellent! Rise to your feet”

“Aiden connect the micro chip”

“Operation is commencing”

“Connecting”

“Processing “

“Uploading “

“What a fine body?”

“I am at his mercy “

“His brain is uploading “

“We are connected “

“He is set up “

“You are home, stay in here and you will be brought back online.”

The wave of white light washes through the entire house as everything disappear in to a blank canvas where everything fades away In to nothingness as a voice beckoning a very sexy man named Ben who stood right in front of the house. In a flash of light the door swung open as the light flushing out in to the street a hand grabs him pulling into the house and he is never seen again for the rest of his and he falls to the ground he is tied down. Alan was a tighten very sexy, quiet a handsome as fuck but I have to be actually admit that it’s his height that got me but when it comes to Ben it’s his body in my imagination mixed with Alan’s massivebody type and height with Ben’s frame my god. “What delicious specimen you are? Well! Don’t you think so my dear? You areso hot and I have to own you for the restof the future.” I say in to the speakerssending a shivers down his spine due tome. “Who the fuck are you? Where are all the host and possible buyers?”

“Enclose the area”

“Hey wait!”

“Hold on”

“Are you locking me in?”

“Hey stop”

“Come on man free me”

“Wait a second”

“STOP”

“Lawrence!”

“Bastard”

“Freak”

“You asshole and get back”

“Get on your knees “

“I don’t submit “

“You shall submit “

“You have no other choice “

“I know own you for life”

“Do you have to question me?”

“Aiden come online”

“Yes Master”

“Good boi Alan”

“Stand over him and hold him”

“Hey! Hey let me go”

“Knock him out

“Drop him on the chair”

“Place it in the pod”

“Tie him down”

“Lock the door “

“Will you surrender to him?”

“Master owns”

“I claim you forever “

“I love you “

“You will succumb to”

“You are under my ownership “

“Yes! You are my God!”

“I am also Aiden”

Sebastian flows in to the house flinging the door slamming on the wall with such power, glee, and excitement coming my way as he attends to my side as he enters the main room and the door shuts us both in as the lights come on. The screen descending onto the walls coming on as it roars on blowsup for him to see a spiral showcasing on the wall instantly it ensnares him as he is frozenin time and he walks back in to the wall hithis back and he slid to the ground. In the process of it all the floor shined ever so brightly as the floors open up under hisfeet, he goes free falling in to the mainfloor through the floor boards and on tothe basement ground dropping on to the bed.

“Alan and Ben attend to him”

“Yes Master”

“Where am I?”

“Please strap him down to the table “

“Lay him low”

“Tie him down”

“Wrap him up”

“Place him in the pod “

“Shut the door “

“Enclose the area”

“You know your place “

“Set me free”

“Fuck this “

“Fuck you “

“Oh no! Never but…”

“But what?”

“I will fuck you indeed “

“Nnnnnoooo!”

“Oh yes! You will enjoy it”

“You shall begin at once”

“Commence the project “

“Yes Master”

“As you wish”

“How do you feel about me?”

“With all my heart”

“How about you ?”

“To the moon and back”

“Hey babe”

“I am Aiden”

“Kneel “

“Yes Master”

“Who am I?”

“My God”

“My lord “

“My everything “

The end

#alan ritchson #ben affleck #sebastian stan #Creating Aiden #Ai simulator #Smart House #symbiosis #mind hack #mind link #mind control #hypnosis #reprogramming #hypno slave #hypno submission #we are one #tyler hoechlin

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deepcollectionunseen · 8 months ago

Text

Twink Death

CW: forced weight gain, hypnosis, nonconsensual, musk

Alex was enjoying the sensation of being filled. Josh’s thick cock was stretching him in all the right ways, but something felt off. His eyes fluttered open to see the dark figure leaning against his bedroom doorway.

“Cam!” Alex frantically shot upright, Josh’s frame turning to face the man in the doorway.

“Hi, Alex. So this is who you’ve been running to? I knew you were a size queen but this…”

“Cameron, it’s not what it looks like-“

“I was just coming by to pick up my stuff.”

Josh stepped in front of the fully clothed man, his naked body clearly meant to intimidate the twig in front of him. Cameron glanced between the heaving pecs in front of him, and the sprawled twink in the bed. Sweat was clearly glistening, running down the broad man’s body down to his- Cameron looked away.

“Clearly, his body is more satisfying to you. Is that what you always dreamed of? Or did you never feel like this when we were-? Nevermind. My books. Sorry.”

Josh intercepted hIm again, cock twitching slightly. Was he enjoying this? Bullying the poor cuck?

“I don’t think now’s a good time, nard,” Josh spoke with a sneer. Oh, so he really was a bully.

Alex gave a frustrated whine, pitifully pleading, “Josh, please. I forgot he was coming by. Let him grab the box, and get out.”

Josh cocked his head slightly, then with a sweeping gesture, let Cameron pass into the room. Upon entering, Cameron was assaulted by the sweat and musk in the air. Bending down, he picked the box off of the floor, the books inside various tomes of magick and witchkraft. He sighed. His mind was racing.

“So, are you just waiting to watch the next round or…?” Josh taunted.

“Shut up, Josh,” Alex scolded. His eyes darted down to the books. A look of fear crossed his eyes. Cameron noticed. Well… it would be good, wouldn’t it. Curse them both.

“Sorry, lost in thought,” Cameron sighed.

“Please don’t, Cam. I’m sorry.”

“What?” Josh interrupted.

“Nothing,” Alex quickly muttered, “Just let him leave.”

Cameron looked down at the lithe figure sprawled on the bed. How many times had he caressed that body. He had become a top for that beauty. The perfect bottom, those luscious lips pulled in a pout. But potentially they had been too similar. And based on the hulk of man who’d just been going at him, Cameron was clearly never enough for Alex. Cameron pointed.

“You-”

“Cam, please!” Alex begged, drawing a pillow to himself.

“Will never cheat again. You will be obsessed with his musk. Whenever you smell it, you will want his cock in your throat, and his bush in your nostrils.”

“Yes.” Alex said, his eyes glazed slightly.

“Good.”

“Yo, what the fuck is going on,” Josh demanded, quickly crossing the room to grab Cam’s arm.

“You,” Cameron quickly said pointing at Josh, whose grip became slack almost immediately, “will treat him like a cock-sleeve. You will make yourselves massive for him. You will make yourself a muscular god to make him happy. Your balls will never be empty, you will always be horny. And you will make him fat on your cum.”

“Yes.” Josh’s eyes glazed over, and his balls fattening almost immediately. Cameron gave them a soft feel, they were the size of eggs. But they could be bigger.

“Whenever Alex gains ten pounds, your balls will get bigger by ten percent. You want to have the biggest balls you can have”

“Yes.”

“Have a good life you two.” And with that, Alex swept out of the room. The slam of the door broke the strange reverie.

“What was that?” Josh asked, his vision coming back into focus.

“Cameron cursed us I bet,” Alex groaned, “Probably something stupid, like we’ll never be able to avoid a hangover or something. That’s what he did to a one night stand one time.”

“Damn. He can do that?” Josh asked glancing at the twink. Alex’s body was beautiful, almost like he was carved from marble. But he could stand to gain a few pounds couldn’t he. His ass would look a little better with a little more heft. A little more jiggle. He moved closer to Alex.

“Yeah, he… what is that, mmmm, that smell. Is that you?” Alex breathed in hungrily, his nose like a bloodhound, sniffing out the source. It brought him down to Josh’s now flaccid penis. “It is you. God. You’re a beast. I need you. Josh, Daddy, ram your cock down my throat right now.”

“I feel like I ought to clean myself off first since- oh!” Josh bucked slightly as the twink buried his face into his crotch, “Oh, Daddy likes.” He grabbed Alex’s hair slightly, the urge to face fuck him taking over. He was horny. He was ravenous. And he wanted to fill the Twink with whatever he had.

Alex was lost in the scent. He could feel his mouth aching and the bruise on his throat from the beating it was receiving from Josh’s cock. But he couldn’t stop, even as he felt the twitching pulse as Josh came down his throat. Josh’s balls were pulsing on his face, and the musk was driving Alex crazy. Almost immediately after he came, Josh was already pounding Alex’s throat again. The twink was his fleshlight, an object to be used and filled. And Josh was horny. He was ravenous.

The two passed out, hours of facefucking drawing all of their strength, fatiguing their bodies. The smell of sweat, and musk, and cum pervaded the air as the two fell into a deep sleep.

A few weeks later, Alex was noticing changes. His pants weren’t fitting quite as well. His belly had budged up a little. It must have been the change in diet. Josh had gotten really into bodybuilding again. He said he wanted to be massive for Alex, which made him blush remembering the way he growled it into his ear. Alex would have to start doing more exercise to make up for it, but it was hard to exercise with Josh. The moment he caught a whiff of the muscular man, he couldn’t help himself. The urge to drink him in was too much, so he had taken to just waiting for Josh to get home from the gym, so he could bury hsi face between the larger mans thighs. And Josh loved it.

Almost a year later, the changes had really started to catch up. Alex was near the 300 pound mark. His lifestyle of gluttony had taken a toll on the slender twink’s body. What one was toned muscle was now a layer of flab. But his boyfriend was a different story. Despite the near similar weight, his boyfriend was a beast. Nearly every inch was pure muscle, his body shook the ground when he moved. His biceps we mountainous peaks, his pecs were slabs of beef, and between the two was the beautiful armpits that Alex worshipped like a puppy, breathing in the intoxicating scent. Josh’s thighs were thick and corded, and Alex spent most of his time nestled between them, drinking the jock’s nearly endless supply of fresh cum.

“Drink up my little piggy” Josh said, emptying his balls down Alex’s throat for the eighth time this morning, “I want to make you a whale.”

Alex’s moaned around his boyfriend’s cock, the orange sized balls pulsing energetically. Alex hadn’t liked the nickname at first, but was coming around to it. He felt like a pig, a good pig with his face covered in cum. It felt like every drop of cum that was poured into him now was enough to keep him fed. He was stuffed, and he loved it.

It was three years later that Cameron finally dropped by again. The scent of the house made him gag at the doorstep. Wrapping a mask around his face, he knocked.

“Come in” came a booming voice. Cameron opened the door slightly, and heard the heaving breathing and moving of weights down the hall. The house was a mess. It looked like the apocalypse had happened, cobwebs and dirt piled up everywhere. Empty takeout filled the table, and Cameron swore he even saw a rat sneak through the filth. He followed the sounds, but was stopped in the doorframe, and chuckling he leaned against it.

Inside was a massive man, clearly he had taken muscle growth to heart, His whole frame had blown up. It looked like he was struggling to move with how massive his body had become. His arms looked like gorillas, the musculature showed every vein, extending from two shoulders that deemed more like beachballs. They framed his head, where a thick beard hid most of his face and neck. His pecs were heavy; he was past slabs of beef, he was a whole bull waiting to be carved up. His waist tapered slightly, but the round gut he had showed he staring for strength, not for aesthetics. His thighs were tree trunks, but little more than could be said about them, because nestled between them was a mop of hair, furiously. Going to town on him.

The twink was gone, obliterated. In Alex’s place was a whale of human being, his throat seemed swollen from the sheer amount of cum he was constantly draining. Kneeling in front of his master, the former twink rested on his massive belly, his ass high in the air. Every inch of him was flab, soft and supple, too big to move.

“So… looks like I was right. You didn’t cheat on him”

All that answered Cameron’s jeering was the muffled gags from Alex, and a deep sigh of release as Josh came again. Cameron walked around to view the handiwork. And like he imagined, Josh balls hang like two weights, solid watermelons, churning and pumping cum into the whale in front of him. The cycle now seemed permanent. Every time Josh came now, he was probably pumping a gallon of cum into his personal cock sleeve. It wouldn’t be much longer til the two were just growing each other constantly.

“I’m doing fine. Thanks for asking. But it looks like you’re happy like this.”

There was another sigh of release, and frantic gagging as Alex was pumped full again. Guess he really was a size queen.

#musclegrowth #cuminflation #weightgain #revengeporn #hypnosis #forced growth #forced weight gain #gay #musk

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deans-baby-momma · 10 months ago

Text

Anonymously Yours

Will a wrong number lead to love?

BOLD = wrong number's messages

Italics= Y/N's messages

A/N: Thanks to @kazsrm67 for being my beta for this story and also @chriszgirl92 who bullied me into letting her read it before it was posted, who actually found mistakes that had been overlooked. LOL

‘Hey girl! I had fun last night with you. Maybe we can do it again sometime.’

‘Wrong number.’

‘Girl, quit playing! It's me. Did you get so drunk you developed amnesia?’

‘DUDE! It's 6 am. I've been asleep all night. As I said before, wrong number!’

‘Oh come on darlin’. I know you didn't give me a fake number.’

Y/N's phone lights up her face as she reads the last message. This guy just wasn't giving up.

‘Listen Romeo. Whoever you met last night either gave you a random number or you put it in your phone wrong. Sorry but I'm not her.”

‘I can't believe this. This never happens to me. Well, I'm sorry for waking you up. Have a good day.’

Y/N slams her phone down on the mattress and closes her eyes, willing for sleep to overtake her. But it never comes. She can't stop thinking about the poor schmuck at the other end of the conversation.

She sighs as she re-opens her eyes and grabs her phone

‘I'm sorry for being such a bitch. It's early. I didn't sleep well and shouldn't have taken it out on you. I hope you find the girl who fooled you…..but seriously if she just gave you a random number, she probably wasn't all that into you.’

‘Yea. That's pretty obvious. But thanks for laying it out like that. And sorry for waking you up. Again.’

Y/N read the message and then threw the comforter off her body, sitting up and placing her feet on the cold concrete floor of her room.

That's the thing about living in an underground monster-proof shelter….it's always cold! Especially in the deeper quarters, like the bedrooms and restrooms.

But being in the business of keeping the world safe from what goes bump in the night, Y/N and the Winchester Brothers must adapt and overcome the inconvenience of living off the grid.

So, an old defunct Men of Letters safe house is Home Sweet Home for the martyrs.

After using the facilities and brushing her teeth, Y/N heads toward the kitchen area, her stomach growling for sustenance.

She and Sam had spent days researching and analyzing tomes, trying to gather lore on how to kill a Khiksaz, the newest threat to the population. So much so, that it has been close to 24 hours since she had eaten anything.

She was starving!

The delightful aroma of coffee engaged her senses as she neared the kitchen. Inhaling the caffeinated fragrance, she entered the room to get her fill.

Dean, the oldest brother, stood at the stove flipping bacon. The sizzle of the meat met her ears and she hummed in bliss.

Y/N loved Dean's cooking skills. He could turn the most mundane ingredients into a delectable, magnificent meal.

“Good morning sweetheart,” he says as turns to look at her. “Sleep well?”

Y/N sips the hot beverage, letting the liquid brew wake her more and warm her from the inside.

“I guess,” she answers as she takes a seat at the table. “No nightmares, so that's a plus I guess.”

Dean approaches the table with a plate of bacon and pancakes that were warming in the oven and sets it in front of her.

“Progress though, right?”

That's the thing about Dean and Y/N; they share a connection of both suffering from nightmares. Dean’s of Hell and Y/N’s of witnessing her family get murdered by a rugaru while on the annual family camping trip.

The only thing that saved Y/N from the monster who stole her family was the fact that she had stepped out of the tent and wandered into the woods to find a spot to relieve her full bladder. She had watched from her hiding place behind a big oak as the giant beast tore her mother, her father and little brother to shreds. The guttural screams still haunted her all these years later!

“Yea, I guess so,” she admitted. “But I also feel like if I don’t dream about them, it means I’m forgetting them.”

“I know sweetheart,” Dean says from his side of the table as he pours a generous amount of molasses on his hotcakes. “But I’ve told you before. Just because you don’t dream about them doesn’t mean they’re not still in your thoughts; doesn’t mean you don’t love them or miss them anymore.”

“Yeah,” Y/N answers forlornly. “I know you’re right.”

She takes a bite of her own breakfast and moans obscenely at the burst of flavor.

“So how was your night?” she asks, knowing Dean had left to search for a hook-up to take his mind off the monotony of research. “Did you find some willing girl to get your rocks off?”

That’s another thing about Dean and Y/N’s relationship-friendship; they were crass and blunt with one another. They were like two peas in a pod. And it all started when Dean came to Y/N for advice on what exactly women want in a hook-up.

FLASHBACK

“Y/N,” Dean says as he sits at the table where she had been scouring an old journal she’d found in the library. “You’re a female, right?”

The question catches Y/N off guard and she laughs. “Yes, Dean. Unless I’ve been cursed in the last 5 minutes, I am a female. I have a vagina and boobs.”

“Smart ass,” Dean says with a smile. “Can I ask you something though? Something that only another female might understand.”

“Sure, Dean. What is it?”

“What do women look for in a hook-up?”

“I’m going to be blatantly honest with you here,” she says and continues once Dean nods. “Plain and simple. To get off. Someone who knows what to do with what the good lord gave him. We don’t really care about size but if you don’t know how to use what you got, we have to do It ourselves. And while that gets the job done, it's not as fun. As the saying goes, ‘It's not topside of the boat; it's the motion of the ocean’.

“So, Mr. Winchester,” Y/N smirks as she places her elbows on the table and rests her chin on her palms. “Do you know how to use what you got?”

She smiles as she notices the blush creeping up his neck. Who knew Dean Winchester could get flustered so easily?

Y/N would be lying if she said she'd never noticed how handsome Dean Winchester is. She has eyes with perfect vision, she can see the sex appeal. But she swore to herself that she would never be the fly caught in his web.

Dean Winchester was a player and a philanderer. He didn't do romantic relationships. Something else they had in common.

Y/N found out very early in her adult life that her choice of profession didn't lead to having a partner who understood the need, the commitment to keeping others safe from attacks of the paranormal.

So, much like the oldest Winchester, she sought out one-night stands, a love-em-and-leave-em situation was what worked best.

“Awww is Dean-o embarrassed? Well, tell me this then. Canoe, yacht or cruise ship?”

Dean flips her off and pushes up out of his chair and rushes off down the hallway, Y/N's laughter following him.

END FLASHBACK

After breakfast was finished, with Sam popping in after his early morning run to mix up a smoothie Y/N and the Winchesters gathered in the library to research more about the Khiksaz.

About an hour and one less brother later, Y/N's phone vibrated in her pocket. She pulls it out and notices it's the same number from earlier with another text.

‘You single? There's not some big burly man out for my head for waking you up this morning is there?

‘No worries Romeo. Single as a Pringle over here.’

‘That's good. You seem nice.’

Y/N couldn't help but laugh at that. This morning she had been bitchy and quite frankly rude to this stranger and he just called her nice.

Sam looked up from the book he was reading, an eyebrow raised in question.

“Sorry. Just read something funny on my phone.”

As soon as Sam was once again studying what he was reading, Y/N began texting her new friend.

‘Is that your way of asking to be friends?’

‘What if it is? What would your answer be?’

Y/N left him on Read as she contemplated his question. Would it be so horrible to befriend this guy? She knows nothing about him and he knows nothing about her. It could remain anonymous and be something to get her through the boring task of research.

‘It stays anonymous. You don't ask my name and I don't ask yours. We'll keep it casual unless one of us has a bad day. Then we'll help the other out. No pictures, no voice messages, no videos. Capichè?’

‘You sure do drive a hard bargain RG. But okay.’

‘RG?’

‘Yea. Regina George….you know the bitchy bitch from Mean Girls.’

‘Are you seriously calling me a bitch this early in the friendship?!’

‘NO!!! God no! You said it yourself this morning. You apologized for being a bitch. Sorry. I'll come up with another name for you.’

‘Oh. Haha. You got me. Okay, Regina or RG is fine.’

‘Good because I already gave you that moniker in my phone.’

The rest of the afternoon consisted of researching this new species of monster and texting Romeo, as he was now labeled in her phone.

Dean was once again absent from the library after he had brought in some sandwiches he had whipped up.

As evening approaches, Sam and Y/N were still poring over the lore and taking notes. Dean walks Into the library with a whistle on his lips and his keys twirling around his finger.

“See ya later nerd,” he calls out as he heads up the stairs.

“Wrap it before you tap it,” Y/N yells.

“Fuck you!”

“No thanks.”

And then he was gone. Off to find some floozy in a bar to make him forget the awful world they live in.

Y/N retired to her room around midnight, her eyes tired and her back aching from leaning over all day.

As she changes into her pajamas She hears her phone ding with a message.

‘You awake?’

‘No. I'm sleeping peacefully. Ha! I just climbed into bed. What's going on?’

‘Eh. Nothing much. Just lonely.’

‘Lonely? You mean Romeo didn't go out and try to find another conquest?’

‘Not really in the mood. Just wanted to have a conversation that didn't lead to anything.’

‘Okay. So tell me about your day.’

Y/N laid in bed, reading texts about Romeo's job in pest control and how he hated that customers would call him in about their problems but when he eradicated the vermin there was no appreciation, no gratitude.

She tells him about her work as customer service and how she suffers the same fate.

‘The adage “The Customer is Always right” is bullshit. Complete and utter bullshit!’

‘I feel you there sister.’

The two of them keep texting back and forth throughout the night until Y/N hears Dean’s early morning return from wherever he’d been. She made a note to sanitize Baby’s backseat before their next trip.

She listens to his footfalls approaching and then continues past her room to reach his, further down the hallway.

‘God this night sucks! I just want to fall into bed and sleep. Text tomorrow, bestie?’

‘Tomorrow Romeo.’

That night, Y/N’s sleep is plagued with nightmares. They consist of the anonymous person on the other side of the phone. As the night continues the images behind her eyelids morph into more pleasant ones. Her dream guy is tall, muscular with beautiful features and a complete sweetheart; a complete and adorable heartthrob.

She wakes the next morning with a smile on her lips and an urgent need to masterbate. She sends out a silent thank you to the girl who gave out the wrong number; before making her way to the bathroom.

A week later, Sam and Y/N finally had enough knowledge and data on the Khiksaz for the three of them to venture out to the small community of Sikeston, MO and take this monster on.

With help from the immense amount of lorebooks and tomes in the library of the Bunker, they figured out that a Khiksaz was a phantasm from a tribes of Arabian descent that had been captured and stored for millennia in a handspun clay jar after the spirit ripped through the older members of the tribe and began to beseech the still infantile and juvenile members to allow it to lead them.

One of the oldest chiefs, a religious man, conjured up a binding spell that captured and trapped the Khiksaz creature into the urn for all eternity. Unfortunately, someone in Missouri had come across the container and, not knowing what it contained, unleashed the beast which was causing chaos and devastation in the small town.

Sam and Y/N had worked mercifully at creating a copy of the enchantment and found a similar vessel to once again apprehend the offending spirit.

It was a 9 hour drive that took Dean only 7 to accomplish. Once they were checked in and unpacked, the three of them set out to make sure they had what they needed to accomplish the job.

Well, Sam and Y/N did. Dean sulked and flipped through the television channels until he found an old John Wayne western to watch.

Y/N felt her phone buzz in her pocket, but she was too busy perusing the spell once again to check.

After a few minutes, Dean huffed and turned the tv off and announced he was going out to find some fun in this one-horse town.

Y/N had had enough of his attitude for the last few days. He had been agitated and snippy at them both.

“God damn Dean! We are here to get this Khiksaz not for you to get your dick wet in some strange pussy!”

“Don’t you fucking worry about where my dick is going!” Dean yells back. “I don’t need a cunt to get off. My hand works just fine. I just need a drink or twelve.”

“Asshole!” Y/N says, stepping up to the older Winchester and getting in his face.

“You’re insufferable! I’ll see you two when I see you.”

He steps toward the door, throws a middle finger sign over his shoulder and sings, “Don’t wait up.”

Y/N growls. She literally and audibly growls.

“What the hell is his problem?!” she asks, rhetorically.

“He’s Dean,” Sam tries to reason. “You know how he is.”

“Yea, he’s a giant asshole.”

Once the two of them get the spell and weapons, along with the container to hold the Khiksaz in, they decide to go find something to eat.

While waiting on Sam to use the restroom, Y/N pulls her phone from her pocket to see a text from Romeo.

‘How you doin’?”

‘Friends fan huh? So maybe I should call you Joey. By the way, that is the lamest pickup line ever.’

‘I thought it was pretty good. In the 90s. It worked a few times.’

‘Yes I tried it.’

‘An no, I’m not hitting on you’

‘I don't know whether to be pleased or offended.’

‘Why?’

‘Why what?’

‘Never mind. So what are you doing?’

‘Getting ready to head out and get a bite to eat.’

‘Alone?’

‘Nope. My brother is coming with.’

‘Oh. You have a brother? So do I.’

‘Cool. What are you doing? I thought we were keeping this anonymous?’

‘You're right. No deep seated questions about one another. Sorry.’

‘Feeling like a jerk. A co-worker of mine and I got into it and I said some things I didn’t mean and now I regret it.’

‘So go apologize.’

‘Yea. I probably need to. ‘

‘Go apologize Romeo. Or I’ll send my brother to kick your ass.’

‘You make your brother do all your dirty work?’

‘I don’t make him do anything. But anyway, he’s out of the bathroom now so I’ll catch you on the flip side.’

‘And go apologize.’

As they walked across the highway to the diner, Sam brought up the texting.

“You have a boyfriend or something?”

“No,” Y/N answers sheepishly. “Just a friend….who might be a guy.”

She waits until after the waitress takes their order before delving into the whole story of how some random guy began texting her because he was given the wrong number by a girl.

“Ouch! That’s harsh.,” Sam says. “But what do you know about this guy? Is there a reason the girl gave him a fake number?”

Y/N shrugs as she takes a sip of water. “I dunno. Like, he seems nice. And we get along. But just through text. I don’t even know his real name. I called him Romeo in jest and it kind of just stuck.”

“You don’t even know his name?! Does he know yours?”

“No,” Y/N laughs at the ridiculousness of it. “He refers to me as Regina or RG.”

Sam looks at her confused so she explains.

“Regina George from Mean Girls. I was kind of a bitch to him, like Regina is to everyone in the movie. I didn’t take offense to it. I thought it was quite hilarious.”

“Let me see your phone,” Sam says, holding his hand out for it.

Y/N watches Sam scroll through her contacts until he gets to ‘Romeo”. He opens the information tab and studies it. His lips pull into a quarter smile as he closes the phone and hands it back.

“What?”

“What, nothing? What was the smile for?”

“What smile? I’m just happy you made a friend outside Dean and I. I mean, you gotta be careful because of our line of work. But I like that you have someone else to talk to.”

“Oh.”

The waitress brings their food and the subject is dropped. Their attention and concentration goes back to the job at hand and they discuss how to lure the Khiksaz out and distract it while the incantation is said.

In the early morning hours, Y/N is awakened by Dean stumbling into the room, blitzed out of his mind. He staggers to the mini-fridge and pulls out a bottle of water, opening it and downing it.

Between the smell of booze and the aroma of some of the most fragrant perfume, Y/N can’t help but gag. Dean notices the involuntary movement and shakes his head.

He cautiously walks to the bed and sits down beside Y/N.

“Are you here to gloat?” she whispers. “I really don’t want to hear about your sexcapades with some poor hometown girl.”

“Y/N, we’re friends right?” Dean says instead and it shocks her.

“Yes, Dean. We’re friends.”

“I’m sorry about earlier. I didn’t mean to call you an uptight cunt.”

“Um, Dean? You didn’t.”

“Yes, I did. On the drive over to the bar. I called you an uptight cunt and a self-righteous prude and I’m sorry.”

“All is forgiven,” Y/N says, burrowing her nose into the pillow. “But please go shower and wash that stink off you before I puke!”

Dean chuckles. “Yes ma’am.”

Unfortunately the next day does not go to plan at all. Both Winchesters and Y/N are thrown around while fighting and trying to capture the Khiksaz. Sam ends up with a concussion but Y/N breaks a couple of ribs.

With horrible dictation, Dean gets the spell read and the monster is once again bottled up and will make the trek back to Kansas to be stored away in the dungeon of the Bunker.

Y/N feels every curve and bump in the road of the 647 mile trip. Broken ribs are uncomfortable and painful when you're lying still but Dean insists on driving like a bat out of Hell.

He is on a tangent about how the information they had to the Khiksaz wasn’t complete and they didn’t know it had powers and how it’s his fault for leaving the research up to the two of them.

Sam tries in vain to reason with his hard-headed brother.

“We don’t always know everything about the monsters we go up against. This is just another instance!”

“Yea. Well-”

“Well, nothing! This hunt was no different than when we went up against that Wendigo or the rugaru that killed Travis! What?! Is it because Y/N got hurt? Is that why you're so pissed off?”

“We all got banged up; it's not just her,” Dean defended. “You have a concussion for Christ's sake!”

“And your brooding and griping isn't helping. Let's just call it a win and move on. Please!” Y/N pleaded from the backseat. “And Dean? Slow the fuck down! You're killing me back here.”

Knowing that his erratic speeding and Baby's lack of sufficient suspension is probably agonizing with busted ribs, he took his foot off the gas.

“Sorry sweetheart,” he apologizes. “I just want to get back to Bunker to rest and recuperate. I'll go slower.”

The rest of the ride was quiet and uneventful, other than when Sam tried to fall asleep and Dean blasted Metallica to keep his brother awake.

Once parked in the garage, Dean hurried to help Y/N sit up and get out of the car and hovered around her as she made her way to her room.

“You need anything, just holler okay?”

“Thanks Dean.”

As soon as he was out of the room and the door was closed, Y/N pulled her phone out.

‘I've had a shitty day at work. Tell me a joke.

There was no response for the longest time; so long Y/N began wondering if Romeo had actually blocked her.

‘Did you hear about the Italian chef that died?’

‘No. What happened?’

‘He pasta-way!’

‘OMG! They was corny as fuck!’

‘Forrest Gump’s email is 1forrest1.’

‘That one is no better. Lol. But they made me smile. Thank you Romeo.’

‘You're welcome Regina. Wanna tell me about your day?’

‘Nah, that's okay. It was just another one dealing with ungrateful, unappreciative customers.’

‘How was yours?’

‘Honestly, about like yours. Customer called with a rodent nuisance and I took care of it. Customer never acknowledged it.’

‘People suck!’

‘Yes, they do.’

The phone was silent for a few minutes before it buzzed again with an incoming text.

‘I ordered a chicken and an egg online. I'll let you know which comes first.’

‘Ya know, I'm starting to understand why that girl gave you the wrong number. You. Are. A. Dork!’

‘You asked for it missy! I am quite offended. I'm the farthest thing from a dork. I'm suave and charming for your information!’

‘And a dork. But you made me smile with your silly dad jokes. So thank you.’

‘Glad I could make you feel better. Our conversations make me happy.’

‘Same goes for me. But I'm getting pretty tired so I'm gonna try to get some shut eye. Good night Romeo. :*’

Y/N's eyes widened as she realized what she had done. She'd sent him a kiss face! A stranger! Someone she didn't really know.

What if he took that the wrong way? They had agreed to be anonymous friends. FRIENDS, nothing more. So why did she send him that?

What did it mean?! Was she developing feelings for this mysterious man?

She thought back to just a few nights ago, the erotically passionate dream she'd had with what she imagined this stranger to look like.

She reminisced of her dream Romeo kissing her breathless, worshiping her body as if it were a temple; of how they had fervidly made love into the early morning hours. He had brought her pleasure numerous times!

Oh fuck! She was falling for him.

‘Sweet dreams darlin’ :*’

Y/N laid awake for hours, contemplating on how to handle the knowledge that she was falling for the stranger.

How was it possible to develop feelings for someone you've never met, someone you'd never laid eyes on. Hell, she didn't even know the sound of his voice.

Around dawn, she decided she would no longer exchange messages with him and as soon as her body was healed, she was going to go find some willing guy to fuck Romeo's memory away.

Of course, she was awakened by her phone alerting her that a text was waiting.

‘Good morning beautiful’

‘You're probably still asleep’

‘I just can't get you out of my head’

‘Maybe we should break the anonymous rule and meet?’

Y/N read each of the lines over and over, each time making her heart drop. She didn’t know what to do.

She began to think that maybe she should’ve just ignored and erased his first message; when she realized it was a complete stranger who had accidentally texted the wrong number. She shouldn't have engaged with him. Now she was in this predicament. Of course, this is how her life is, fucked up and confusing as hell!

Y/N silences her phone and rolls out of bed carefully. The motion takes her breath away as her broken ribs shift with the motion. She makes her way to the door and down the hallway toward the bathroom, only to be almost bowled over when Sam, dripping wet and shirtless, comes barreling out of the bathroom.

“Oof.”

“Oh god Y/N. I’m so sorry,” he apologizes, profusely. “I didn’t expect you to be out of bed. Dean said he was going to bring you breakfast.”

“That’s sweet of him,” Y/N responded with a smile. “But that doesn’t negate my bladder issues.”

Sam laughed and stepped to the side. “Yea, I guess not. So, ummm…I guess I’ll come check on you later?”

“Okay,” she says as she closes the door to the communal bathroom and shuffles to the row of toilets. As she went to sit, she realized that the mundane task was hindered; she couldn’t bend without excruciating pain radiating from her thorax.

Even though her bladder was yelling at her to be emptied, Y/N stood and studied the ancient throne. With a small shrug, she grabbed the roll of tissue and tore off a few squares of paper before pulling her leg out of one side of her sleep pants and straddling the seat.

After cleaning up-because peeing like a man isn’t as easy for a woman as you’d think- Y/N heads back to her room, where as Sam said, Dean was waiting with a tray of eggs, bacon and coffee.

“Oooh, nectar of the Gods,” Y/N says as she reaches for the hot beverage. “Thanks Dean!”

“You’re welcome. How’re you feeling?”

“I’ve been better. I can tell you that,” she answers. “I’m going to try to wrap them later.”

“I can help you do that,” Dean says as he watches her sit on the bed before sitting the tray of food on the table. “You probably can’t get it tight enough.”

“M'kay.”

A few hours later

“Dean, I swear to Chuck if you try to cop a feel, I’ll kick your ass!”

“Oh be quiet, Y/N/N. It’s not like I haven’t seen them before,” Dean teases.

And he was right. On a couple occasions the eldest Winchester had been witness to Y/N’s top half of her body exposed; whether it’d be walking into the bathroom as she was exiting the shower or when she got wasted at that bar the three hunters visited and she flashed the whole crowd as she finished singing “Natural Woman” by Aretha Franklin; well butchered it would be a better word as she couldn’t hit a single good note in her inebriated state.

But she was being ogled by a fellow patron and was feeling frisky so after placing the mic back on the stand, she flipped her shirt up and flashed the whole bar. Her bra covered the main parts but it had been a ragged one and didn’t hide much.

So, yea Dean and Sam and half the community of Bumfuck, NM had seen her tits.

“I know,” she giggles and then groans as he wraps the gauze around her torso tightly. “Motherfuck! That hurts.”

“Cry baby,” Dean jokes.

“Let me kick you in your balls and see how you feel,” Y/N threatens.

“Hey now. If I can’t grope you, you aint groping me!”

“You’re such a dork!” Y/N says and they both laugh.

“Okay, you’re all bandaged up now,” Dean says as he hands her her shirt. “Go on and get redressed.”

As soon as Dean leaves, Y/N feels her phone buzzing in her pocket.

‘Regina? Are you there?’

‘Did I scare you off?’

‘Could you please answer me?’

‘Please?’

Y/N pockets the device and heads back to her room. How is she going to answer him? Is she?

She sits on her bed and stares at the phone as it begins vibrating again.

‘I’m sorry. Whatever I’ve done, I’m sorry.’

Deciding to throw caution to the wind, she answers.

‘I’m here. I’m fine. No you didn’t scare me off. You actually didn’t do anything. I did. We agreed to be friends and I went and let my feelings take control and didn’t even realize it until I sent you the emoji after my message.’

‘I know you aren’t interested in me. I know I’m just the consolation prize for the busty brunette or blonde, maybe even a redhead, that you were really hoping to talk to and text. I won’t hold it against you if you want to stop texting. No need to meet in person to tell me.’

Y/N reads over her message a couple times before hitting send and laying her phone down. It immediately starts ringing.

Romeo calling…..

Fuck!

‘I’m not answering you.’

The phone stops ringing and then a message comes through.

‘You have it all wrong, darlin’. You are not a consolation prize…not even close! I wanted to tell you, to say the words to you. But you won’t answer so I’ll just type them. I’ve fallen for you too.’

‘Don’t just say that to appease me. I’m a big girl. I can take rejection’

‘Baby, rejection is the last thing on my mind. Will you please answer the phone?’

Y/N reads Romeo’s last message a few times before she opens the chat box and responds.

‘No. But I will agree to meet you. Work is going to be pretty busy for the next few weeks and I won’t have much free time. So, how about two months from now we meet at a mutually agreed upon place and see where this goes?’

‘Deal.’

Y/N knew that in a couple months her ribs would be healed enough to not raise any questions or alert Romeo to the fact that she fights monsters for a living and not existing in a dead-end customer service job as she had alleged to.

The next few days, Sam and Dean went on a couple little salt-and-burns, leaving Y/N at the Bunker to continue healing.

Y/N and her mysterious Casanova texted continuously, getting to know one another better and just regaling one another with childhood memories and stories.

It was nice; it was befitting for two strangers to become acquainted. Y/N still refused to actually speak to the man she had feelings for. The secrecy was thrilling to her and she preferred the voice he had in her now-nightly dreams.

To pop that bubble by finding out he had a high pitched, nasally voice would be most crushing.

Of course, she hadn't told Romeo her real past. He knew her parents had passed, but she claimed a car accident took them from her.

She felt terrible for lying to him but how do you tell someone that your parents were killed by a beast that isn't supposed to exist?

What Y/N doesn't know though is Romeo had lied to her about his past also.

When Sam and Dean returned from their latest hunt, neither one of them acknowledged Y/N or said a word.

Both Winchester stomped to their respective rooms and she heard one door slam right after the other did.

“What's gotten into them?” she wondered aloud before going back to reading the book she had found. It was an erotic novel.

Greg cups her cheeks in his hands and he leans into her, closing the distance until their lips meet. His were soft and plump against her thin, chapped ones, but the lack of moisture on her lips was the last thing on her mind. He licked the dry vessels until she obliged opening them, inviting him in to taste her.

Greg’s, Romeo’s moans filled her ears as he explored her mouth, his tongue wrestling with hers.

Layla Regina threw her arms over his shoulder and planted her hands against the back of his head, pulling her lover closer and deeper into herself.

They stumble and almost fall but right themselves before hitting the bed, her on her back and his weight pushing her into the mattress. As his hands begin wandering her body, Regina silently begs for his hand on her most intimate area. As his palm slides down the skin of her abdomen, she wonders if her prayers were heard.

After becoming so enthralled with the book that she was even substituting her and Romeo’s nicknames into the plotline she missed the sound of Dean’s boots thudding down the corridor.

“What has you all dreamy-eyed and drooling?”

Y/N jumps in her seat and slams the novel shut, internally lamenting the fact that she didn't mark her place for later indulgence.

She looks up to see Dean standing at the mouth of the hallway, a couple of beer bottles in his hand.

“Are you reading porn?” he asks with a laugh and a smirk.

“It's a romance novel, dumbass!”

“Eh, same thing,” Dean shrugs as he steps toward her and offers her one of the beers. “Romance guy woos the damsel right into his bed.”

“So, you know oh so much about this subject, I take it you've read a lot of romance novels?” Y/N snarks.

“You know as well as I do, life doesn't happen that way,” Dean says instead of answering her. “It's a lot more messier and a lot less loving.”

“Are you telling me you don't woo all those unwitting hookups you have? Not even just a little bit?”

“Oh no. I woo the hell out of them. Tell them exactly what they want to hear-” he takes a drink then continues. “Then I get what I'm after and leave before daylight. Easy in, easy out.”

“You are a real piece of work Dean,” Y/N says with a laugh. “Those poor women probably think they've finally found the man of their dreams and the poof! you're gone.”

“Oh like the schmucks you hook don't know you're a one and done?” Dean says, rolling his eyes. “I've heard them before, telling you all their hopes and dreams. I've heard them during, thinking you are ‘the best they ever had’- their words, by the way- and then you're usually in the back of Baby before Sam's even gone for his run.”

“Oh my god,” Y/N laughs, trying to hide the embarrassment of the fact Dean has heard some of her excursions. But that's what you get when you stay in cheap motel rooms with thin walls. “That was one time! And he was a clingy fucker. Always had to be touching me; my face, my hands, my hips. Hell he even tried to suck my toes. Eww!” she shivers at the memory. “I couldn’t get away fast enough.”

They both laugh and then it goes quiet as they drink.

“So, um…” Dean begins. “Girls, ahem women, don't like that? The touching?”

“No. I mean yea we love an attentive man but sometimes it just takes away from the whole experience. Touch me all you want, run your hands all over me. Play with my tits, my clit…hell a little ass play ain't out of the cards but once he's inside me, I expect to get fucked! Not just filled and rubbed. Use that dick and make me feel it. Ya know? It's inside me for a reason.”

Dean shifts and adjusts his body in his chair and clears his throat. “Okay. Okay. I get that but let's change the subject.”

“Oh is Deanie-poo getting turned on?” Y/N jests. “You got a big ole boner under this table?”

“Shut up Y/N,” Dean mutters before getting up and bolting back toward his room, his half-empty beer bottle still on the table.

Y/N shakes her head and laughs before opening her book to try to find the place she left off at.

Why is it that time crawls when you are looking forward to something?

Y/N's ribs are slowly healing, thanks to the Winchesters generous and considerable care. They both made sure she was taking it easy and mending.

Sam always made her stretch and exercise what she could so her muscles wouldn't lock up and get sore while Dean kept her fed and hydrated and in good spirits with his complete goofy foolishness.

Y/N also noticed that as time went on and closer to her “date” with Romeo, Dean began to get happy and cheerful and just completely giddy.

Not like him at all. She'd also noticed he went out a lot more than usual. Once the day was done, Dean would disappear with only the sounds of his beloved Impala leaving the compound behind.

Does he have a girlfriend? Has he met someone and is unofficially officially dating? Who is she? When will she and Sam get to meet her? Will they?

Y/N didn't put much more thought into Dean's disappearance because truth be told, she had her own secret. She was in deep with Romeo.

They had texted regularly after their proclamation and had even done a little sexting.

Nothing too graphic, just a few descriptive words here and there and talking about using and touching. But it was enough to make Y/N wet and yearn for the day she finally sets eyes on her Romeo.

‘What are you wearing, gorgeous?’

Y/N smiled as she read the words on the screen.

‘Wouldn't you like to know.’ she teased.

‘I wouldn't have asked if I didn't.’

‘I'm sitting on my bed in a lace bustier with the matching thong. I'm so lonely Romeo.’

‘Is that an invitation? Because I can be there in no time at all.’

‘Haha. I’m only joking with you. I’m sitting here in an old pair of ratty sweats and a tee-shirt that had way too many stains to be presentable. My hair is up in a bun on top of my head but most of it has already fallen out and is just blowing in my face. I do not want you to see me like that at all.’

‘So when we meet in a few days, I still won’t get to see the real you? You’re going to be all dolled up and not the picture of perfection that you just described.’

‘Romeo, believe me….NO ONE wants to see this.’

‘I do. I am going to be honest with you. I am tired of going out and hooking up with people who don’t show their true selves. Who lie about who they are, what they do….give out random wrong numbers. I’m ready to be with a real person.’

‘Wow. That is honest. And truthfully, I feel the same.’

‘Maybe getting the wrong number was an omen. Someone up there believes we are both ready for something substantial. Shit, duty calls. I’ll text you soon :*’

As soon as Y/N read Romeo’s last message, Sam was knocking on her door.

“Come in,” she calls and the tall, long-haired man peeps around the open door.

“Just got off the phone with Jody. She needs help. I called Dean and he’s coming to pick me up and head to Sioux Falls. Wanted to let you know.”

“Okay. What’s Jody got?”

“Sounds like a cursed object wreaking havoc. A couple of bodies have come up….” Sam begins to explain and Y/N pushes herself off the bed and begins throwing items in a bag. “Wait, what’re you doing?”

“I’m coming with, I’m tired of sitting here by myself. Don’t worry,” she says as Sam gives her a pointed look. “I will stay away from the line of fire so to speak. I can hang with Claire and Alex or something.”

“Okay,” Sam answers, skeptically. “I don’t know if the girls are even home. You know, Claire has been hunting and Alex….well, she has her own friends now. You might be stuck at Jody’s by yourself so how’d that be different than staying here?”

“Sammy,” she says, patronizingly. “Jody’s has windows and sunshine and warmth and just please let me go?”

“Yea I guess I can see your point,” Sam answers and Y/N pumps her fist in the air before finishing packing. “By the way, Samuel, were you calling me old? When you said the girls might not even be there? Insinuating that they wouldn’t want to be saddled with the old, hurt woman?”

“Shut up, Y/N” Sam says with a smile. “You know that’s not what I meant!”

Dean didn’t seem surprised at all when Y/N threw her bag into the back seat of the Impala and climbed in. He just nodded and as soon as everyone was loaded, took off toward South Dakota.

“Y/N!” Sheriff Mills exclaims as we all exit Baby. “I didn't expect you to come. But am I glad you did.”

She hugs me and whispers in my ear, “I sure could use another female to talk to.”

“I'm here,” I whisper back and then pull away from her embrace. “I'm gonna crash on your couch while these two help you with your case.”

“Good. Good.”

She turns to the Winchester and greets them with their own hugs. After the warm welcome, the three of them head toward the station to discuss the case.

Y/N pulls the erotic novel she's reading and heads to the park across the street and sits at a table.

Opening to the page she marked, she immerses herself back into the story. As she continued reading about the marriage of Greg and Layla, the fictional characters in the story, she began fantasizing about another wedding; one that featured herself and Romeo.

She is brought back to the present when her phone buzzes in her pocket and she pulls it out to see a message from the man she can't seem to quit thinking about. She smiles as she reads the words, remembering how she felt as they vowed their lives to one another.

‘Another day, another rodent to take down. Please tell me your day is better’

‘Not really. This seminar is taking forever.’

Before Romeo can respond, she hears Dean call her name and she turns to see him slide his phone into the front pocket of his jeans as he heads to the Impala.

“We're heading to Jody's,” he announces. “You coming?”

Y/N hurries to mark the place she thinks she left off at and shuts the book before jogging across the empty road to get to the Impala.

“Did you figure out what’s going on this time?”

“We think it’s Lamia,” Sam answers. “Bobby went up against one, years ago but he put it through a wood chipper so this is not the same one but it’s the same M.O. They look female and seduce men and then choke them and eat their hearts.”

“Ew. Well, where’re we going to find a woodchipper?”

“We’re not,” Dean says. “I’m going to pretend to be the victim and then stab it with a blessed silver knife and burn it.”

“That’s risky,” Y/N states, worry about her friend filling her with dread.

“Well…” Dean says with a shrug and the conversation ends.

They pull into Jody’s driveway to see the Sheriff having a very animated conversation with her surrogate daughter, Claire.

They watch through the windshield as Jody hugs Claire and then the young blonde heads toward an old jalopy of a car and takes off.

“That girl is going to be the death of me,” Jody exclaims and her three guests join her. “Come on in guys. I’m making lasagna.”

That night, after helping Jody with the dishes, Y/n and the Sheriff join the Winchesters on the back deck of Jody’s modest ranch-style home.

The conversation flows but no one brings up the case at hand.

Y/N notices Dean is distracted and keeps looking down at his lap and wonders if he is beginning to regret his role as the Lamia’s victim.

‘Just to let you know. Something’s come up and I gotta leave town for a few days so you might not hear from me for a while. Just know I will be back for our date. I’m looking forward to it.’

Y/N reads the message and smiles. She’s been looking forward to it also.

‘Be safe and I’ll talk to you soon :*’

After the guys go up to bed, Jody and Y/N finish their glass of wine and stargaze.

“So what’s new with you?”

Y/N turns her head, looks at the older woman and smiles.

“I have a date.”

“Oooo, tell me more. Who is he? Does he know about….?” Jody begins badgering her with questions.

“I don’t know his name. I call him Romeo; it’s a joke between us. He, uh…..a few weeks ago, someone apparently gave him a fake number and he texted it but it wasn’t exactly fake. It was mine. We’ve been texting back and forth since and agreed to meet.”

“Oh,” Jody says, looking apprehensive.

“What is it?”

“How do you know this ain’t some demon or monster just trying to get to you and the boys Y/N?

“I’ve thought about that, Jod. I’m wearing my silver rings and I’ll have a flask of holy water to spike his drink if need be,” Y/N explains. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve got it covered.”

“Sounds like,” Jody chuckles and then lightly punches Y/N in the shoulder. “You gotta tell me all about it, though. Even the juicy parts, especially the juicy parts. Damn, I ain’t got laid in forever. I need to find a man.”

They both laugh and then settle back down and stargaze some more before heading inside and going to bed.

Dean Winchester almost becomes the Lamia’s fifth victim. If it hadn’t been for his fast thinking brother, Dean would’ve succumbed to the creature’s power and be dead.

Although he was alive, it was only barely. The Lamia had sucked so much blood from his body that he was unconscious for days.

Sam and Y/N had maneuvered him into the backseat of the Impala and raced back to the Bunker, hoping to find something to revive the oldest Winchester.

While they waited and researched, Y/N realized that she hadn’t heard from Romeo in almost a week. Their date was coming up and he had gone radio silent.

Sure he had told her that he had to leave town and wouldn’t be able to text her but couldn't he at least take a second to check in?

As soon as she could, Y/N sent him a message.

‘Haven't heard from you in a few days. Are you okay?’

And then, for the rest of the day, she kept an eye on her phone for a response.

The device stayed silent.

When Dean finally came around two days later, it was much to the relief of both Y/N and Sam.

They sat at his bedside and regaled him with the story of how the Lamia was not who they thought it was but that Sam caught on pretty quickly and used the current from an old stove hookup to burn the creature before she could take Dean’s life.

Dean, as stubborn as he was, refused to stay in bed. He was adamant that he needed to get up and that he wasn’t wasting away in his room while there were other monsters still roaming the world.

Sam and Y/N eventually gave up and left him to his own devices, going to their respective rooms to rest themselves. It was tiring trying to save a life then having that same someone argue that they hadn’t needed it.

Y/N was awakened by her phone buzzing with an incoming text. She opens the message thread and sees that Romeo has responded.

‘Sorry darlin’. I’ve been extremely busy. But I’m back in town and chomping at the bit for our date. Wanna move it up a few day?’

Y/N felt her face flush. She had been excited and eager and wishing that time would move faster as well.

‘A few days would mean tomorrow. You want to meet tomorrow?’

‘Yes. Tomorrow.’

Y/N woke up the next morning, nervous but excited. She was going to meet the man she had been messaging and getting to know through texts for the last three months.

She joined the guys in the kitchen for breakfast and then headed back to her room to determine what she was going to wear.

What do you wear when meeting someone new? She knew him, she thought, but she had yet to see him face to face or even hear his voice.

What if he was not at all what she’d been picturing all this time? What if they meet and one (or both) of them weren’t completely different from what the other thought?

She chose her nicest pair of jeans; nicest meaning they weren't covered in monster blood and guts and other bodily fluids of the creatures she has murdered.

Next, she chose a nice flowy camisole that wasn’t so low cut it showed much cleavage but low enough to show off her chest. Over that she wore a fitted leather jacket with the fancy schmancy silver buttons.

She slid the silver and turquoise necklace on with the matching silver ring, that way if Romeo went in for a hug instead of a handshake, she could still test if he is a werewolf or skinwalker and she had a vial of holy water in her purse to confirm he wasn’t a demon.

As she was finishing her makeup she heard Dean walking past her room, a whistle on his lips.

“Why is he in such a good mood?” she wondered out loud then went to look at her reflection once more.

By the time she got to the garage, the Impala was gone. Y/N was glad because she did not want to explain to Dean why she was borrowing one of the many cars there.

She chose an older model black Ford Mustang because it was one of the few inconspicuous cars they owned. Heads wouldn't turn at the sight of it rolling down the street, unlike the Bel-Aires and the Fairlanes would.

She didn't want to bring attention to herself for a set of wheels that should be in a museum somewhere.

As she drove toward town she hummed a tune that had been stuck in her head for days. She'd finally realized it was ‘Hooked on A Feeling’.

Y/N had no idea where she'd heard the song or even who sang it but it seemed appropriate for the situation. She was hooked on a feeling that she'd found her soulmate through a mistaken wrong number.

Once she got parked and walked toward the door of the restaurant she was to meet her Romeo, something caught her eye.

Down past the building was a sleek black car that she'd know anywhere. A 1967 Chevy Impala that if you looked closely had been rebuilt at least twice but was in pristine condition.

She turned her head to look through the window of the restaurant and her heart dropped. Dean was inside!

What was he doing here? Did Sam tell him about her rendezvous with Romeo and he was here to stop it? But then she realized that she hadn't told Sam about the meet-up.

Turning on her heel, she walked with purpose back to her car and slipped inside.

‘Something has come up and I can't make it. Sorry.’

Y/N raced back to the Bunker, parked the car and ran to her room. She flopped on the bed and let the tears flow.

How dare he be there? Finally, when life was going her way, she was going to meet the man of her dreams, Dean fucking Winchester had to go and ruin it!

Her phone buzzed a couple of times in her pocket but she didn't check it until she was all cried out.

‘Hope everything is okay. Is there anything I can do?’

‘Are you ghosting me?! Really?’

She didn’t answer. Y/N wasn’t sure how to answer. She was no better than the woman who gave Romeo the wrong number to begin with.

What was she supposed to do? Tell him that her “brothers” were actually just two men she lived with in an underground shelter that was warded to keep out supernatural beings that were out for their head? That her job consisted of continually being on some demonic radar?

Yea, he’d think she was nuts!

So instead, Y/N turned her phone off and laid in bed, wallowing in her own self-pity. She would never find a man to understand her lifestyle and she wasn’t going to give it up.

Fighting monsters and demons was her life! She was dedicated to making sure no one ever had to witness or live with the fact that their loved ones were murdered by things that shouldn’t even exist!

A few moments later, she heard the bunker door slam shut and could make out the boys’ voices but couldn't understand what they were saying. It got heated quickly though as she heard Dean yell, “You don’t fucking understand!”

Y/N got off her bed, wiped the tears from her face and left the bedroom, heading toward Sam and Dean.

“I just don’t understand it, man,” Dean says as she reaches the doorway to the library. Y/N stays just out of their sight; she can see them but the boys have yet to notice her presence.

“We get along so well. She’s funny but smart. She puts me in my place.”

“Maybe you should just man up and tell her your real name,” Sam suggests.

“No, no way. That opens up this whole world-” Dean says as he waves a hand around, motioning to the room and all the books on the supernatural they have. “She’s not like us. She wouldn’t understand. I just don’t know what happened?”

“I’m telling you Dean,” Sam says sternly but compassionately. “You may just be surprised.”

“No. I’m not telling Regina about this life.”

Y/N gasps and puts her hand over her mouth as it all comes clear. Romeo is Dean. Dean is Romeo. Holy shit! Wait, what? Like, what the actual fuck?! Dean is who she’s been chatting with via text for months now?

She thinks back to the first message and tries to remember if it came in as Dean since she has his contact information saved. But no, it was a number that came up, not a contact. She quietly runs back to her room and grabs her phone.

As soon as it turns on, she goes into her contacts and scrolls down to Romeo’s. She opens it and sees it is indeed a different number than she has saved for Dean….and his other phone….and his other, other phone.

So what is going on?

She walks back toward the library and this time she makes herself known.

“Oh hey Y/N.” Sam says with a smirk on his face.

“Hey Sweetheart,” Dean says, his tone melancholy before taking a drink of his beer.

“So, which came first? The chicken or the egg?”

Dean swallows the drink in his mouth and then slowly turns his head toward her. “What did you say?”

“Which came first? The chicken or the egg?”

“Um, how do you know that?”

Y/N walks closer to Dean and holds out her hand. “Hello Romeo. I’m Regina.”

Dean froze. The only thing that moved was his eyes, from her outstretched hand to Y/N’s face.

Time stood still as Y/N waited for Dean to catch up to what she had said. Suddenly his eyes widened and his lips opened and closed like a fish trying to breathe.

“What?!” he finally found his voice and spoke.

“I’m Regina and I’m assuming you’re Romeo from what I’ve heard.”

“You are the amazingly hot chick I’ve been texting all this time?”

Y/N nods her head and Sam laughs from his spot across the table from his brother. “It’s about time! I was getting tired of watching you guys pine for one another, and not realizing it.”

“Shut up Sam,” Y/N and Dean both state.

Dean pushes his chair back and stands up, pulling a dinosaur of a phone from his pocket. It’s a frigging flip phone for Chuck’s sake!

“What the hell is that?” Y/N asks as she laughs and watches Dean flip the phone open and punch in numbers on the number pad. “How old is that phone?”

“It was Dad’s,” Sam explains as they both watch Dean work on getting into the phone and open up the text thread. “I didn’t even know it was still usable but apparently my brother uses it to hook up.”

Y/N turns her attention back to Dean and watches as he looks at the screen, apparently re-reading all the messages.

“Well, fuck!” Dean says with a chuckle. He then turns to her and smiles. “Romeo at your service. And he is a dumbass. I didn’t recognize your number, but I do now.”

Sam stands and closes his laptop. “I’m going to go to my room and give you two some privacy.”

Neither Dean nor Y/N pays attention as the taller Winchester leaves the room, their eyes glued to one another’s, studying one another. No words were spoken for a few minutes.

“You’re Regina?”

“And you’re Romeo,” Y/N states with a nod. “I just have one question though. How the hell do you know who Regina George is? That's a chick flick if there ever was one!”

Dean shrugs and blushes. “Rachel McAdams is hot. What can I say?”

They both laugh but then Dean surges forward and wraps her up in his arms.

“But not as hot as my Regina. She can't hold a candle to you, baby.”

Y/N feels her heart squeeze around such a heartfelt compliment and smiles. “How idiotic are we?”

“Well sweetheart, this idiot has fallen for you.”

Y/N’s phone slips out of her hand and her arms wrap around Dean’s neck. “It’s a good thing I’ve fallen for you too then.”

They stand there, wrapped up in each other just taking it all in.

“Can I kiss you now?” Dean asked and Y/N nodded.

He slowly leans in, their eyes glued to one another's until at the very last second he glances down to her lips.

As soon as their lips touched, it was like everything became clear. The world had been dark and gray and now it was bursting with vivid color.

Dean licked against the seam of her lips, begging for entry and Y/N immediately granted him access.

When the need for air became necessary, they pulled apart but not before Dean placed his forehead on hers and smiled.

“Who knew love was right under my nose?”

“Well, here it is,” Y/N says as she tightens her hold on the older Winchester. “Who knew we belonged together? Now take me to bed!”

@spnbaby-67 @sea040561 @delightfullykrispypeach @larajadeschmidt13 @atc74 @vicariouslythruspn @squirrelnotsam @sandlee44 @blacktithe7 @hoboal87 @mogaruke @supraveng @akshi8278 @lyarr24 @kazsrm67 @chriszgirl92 @deanwithscissors @raisinggray @fanfic-n-tabulous @hobby27 @stoneyggirl2 @purpleeclipseeggsland @kmc1989 @leigh70

#dean winchester #y/n #sam winchester #Anonymously Yours #angst #fluff #smut-ish #Supernatural

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