#Exquisite Fleet

[prontolimoservice]

Airport Transportation Service

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[izar-tarazed]

Which character type are you? Tagged by @hexenjagd (thank you!)

📚 The Scholar 📚

Someone who'd give away most things, perhaps everything, for knowledge, for understanding, for meaning. A person living in the world like it's an experiment; a person oddly generous when others least expect it.

... of course Izar would be the scholar. I love that I got this result for her. (Not tagging anyone for now, feel free to take this little quiz and tag me if you like so I can see your result!)

[onlyswan]

summary: in which jungkook can’t sleep, and he can’t stop kissing you either.

> fluff, suggestive / word count: 2.6k

> content/warnings: alexa play seven by jungkook! mentions of s^x, lots and lots of cutie kisses :( they’re in that afterglow <3 oc’s chest is his pillow :(

> in which masterlist!

note: hi hi. here’s ur slice of pure self indulgent fluff 🍰 i just had to write abt this jk :P there’s a reference to in which you always get what you want and jungkook is dying to kiss you 🥹 reblogs & feedback are vv appreciated. i’d love to hear ur thoughts so feel free to scream or laugh or cry <3

—

a fleeting white light passes through your closed eyelids, nearly blinding, as you hear the familiar shutter of your boyfriend’s polaroid camera.

“jungkook,” you whimper weakly due to the sudden disturbance, burying your face on the soft pillows while pushing the camera away.

“shit, shit- sorry, baby-” he winces, guilty of disrupting your journey to slumber, as he scrambles to fix his mistake. “forgot to turn off the flash.”

he places the polaroid face down on the space behind him to give it the time to develop the photo he had taken. much to your relief, the bedroom falls silent once more except for the quiet humming and breathing of the airconditioner. you return to properly laying your head on the pillow, taking a small gasp of oxygen, and jungkook smiles because of how adorable you are for still refusing to open your eyes.

“can i take more pictures?”

“did you turn it off?” you whisper as you stretch your legs to find a more comfortable position, unwittingly pulling down the comforter and exposing your nakedness to the cool air. this gives rise to goosebumps on your skin, causing you to shiver, but your boyfriend is quick to your rescue. he catches the hem before it could slide past your skimpy shorts.

“i did.”

a chaste kiss is planted on your shoulder before it is returned underneath the warmth of soft layers of cotton and fabric.

you sigh, melting back into relaxation. “okay.”

he re-anchors his elbow into the mattress, resting his head on his palm to admire the majestic view of you. jungkook likes this a lot, he lives for it— lying on the bed face-to-face with his sated lover, spending the rest of the night feeling like his heart is not a big enough vessel to hold all the love he has for you. the lights he is yet to turn off have splashed the dark room with a red glow that engulfs your figure as well, escalating his heartbeat, so hypnotic and tantalizing, he finds himself breathing heavier and heavier behind the viewfinder, or maybe he has stopped breathing at all. the shutter briefly fills the silence.

this is… the arch of your back is burned in his mind and he swears he still tastes you on his tongue, but seeing you like this feels so different.

he was consumed by his pleasure and yours just half an hour ago, admittedly almost blinded by his own sweat dripping from his forehead because he simply couldn’t stop wanting more of you, giving himself to you. you weren’t exactly innocent either, with your provocative touches and coquettish smiles, whispering lewd words that was gasoline to the lust flaring up inside of him. he revels in seeing that you’re just as desperate for it as he is, if not more, purely from the way you beseech him with your eyes mirroring stained glass windows. he knows you love it when he fucks you so good it brings you to tears, welcoming the delightful intensity of his nature, and that you were also trying to tire him out so he’d finally feel sleepy, but holy shit, looking at you right now, he wants nothing more but to hold you with utmost gentleness.

wildly concentrated with his bottom lip tucked in between his teeth, he brushes away the hair that fell on your face before capturing another exquisite memory to be burned into film.

jungkook is greedy when it comes to you.

a disgruntled whine slips from your mouth when the pillow underneath your head is replaced by his thick arm, which is then rudely cut off by his lips crashing on yours.

clearly, you’ve grown too comfortable in this relationship.

“i love you.” he drunkenly mutters, instantly going for another kiss and barely finishing his another- “i love you.” before he’s kissing you again.

“babe-” you chuckle then gasp, holding on to his wrist as his tattooed hand loosely wraps around your neck.

“i love you. i love you, i love y- i love you, i love you, i love you, i love you, i love you.” he repeats himself over and over, the volume of his voice gradually getting quieter as he runs out of breath, until his tongue becomes tied. grounded by the feeling of your steady pulse beneath his thumb, he silences himself by tenderly kissing you, soft lips molding with yours for a wordless declaration of devotion this time around.

pure static— there are no thoughts running in your head. your limbs feel numb but tingly. you feel like you’re floating- no, you’re falling. the bed has turned into an abyss and you’re falling endlessly and jungkook holding you close is the only thing that makes sense. you might have to consider this true heaven, nothingness with your everything, when the whole world is lights-out and quiet that it feels like time has been suspended, and the only way to keep track of it is through each pump of your heart.

at last, your eyelids slowly flutter open as he pulls away, and he greets you with that boyish grin. “pretty.”

his hand on your neck moves to stroke your face lovingly, eyes glimmering with various emotions as they wander your features.

“____ is so, so pretty.”

“hm, really?” you hum sleepily, leaning closer to his touch. “thanks to you.”

“me?” his doe eyes widen in confusion.

“you know, for the afterglow. i feel nice.” you giggle brightly at your own half-joke, positively out of your goddamn mind as you hide your warm face on his shoulder.

“ahhh- ah!”

enlightenment then dawns on your boyfriend.

his giggles blend in with yours for a harmony that strikes the same joy as the sound of wind chimes on a windy day.

jungkook tries not to appear too cocky about the compliment, but consequences be damned, he would die satisfying his lover.

“oh yeah, baby? do you now?” there’s a self-satisfied smirk plastered on his face when you take a peek at him, which then morphs into a grin when your eyes meet. “i feel nice, too.”

“nice?” your voice comes out delicate, droopy eyes asking him for confirmation.

“nice.”

he feels a tug at his heartstrings.

“you know what? fucking great… i could never have enough of you.”

it becomes silent for a while. his tattooed hand slides under the comforter, letting his fingers skim across the side of your waist, feather-light touches on your bare skin before he’s pulling you closer to his body.

“i… i don’t doubt that feelings like this can only grow as time goes on but… it’s still amazing that when i think about it, even until now, all the time, i want to be with you.”

he involuntarily breathes out a shaky sigh, ears going red as they do when he’s expressing sincerity from the deepest parts of his soul.

“really, how do you do this…? what is this magic? why- why do i like you so much? i mean, i know why! of course! but, wow!” he squeezes his eyes shut to express his disbelief, clicking his head to the side. “it’s possible for it to be this much? do you get what i’m saying? i just have thoughts like that— love is so fascinating.”

you barely process his words with your brain still in a haze of bliss, but it’s funny, hearing these questions from the same man who has the entire world madly obsessed with him.

oh, this actually sounds familiar. he’s getting all sentimental and philosophical. again. and he’s not drunk. were you that good tonight?

“i won’t give away my secrets just like that. what if you use them on someone else?” you tease him, rubbing your tired eyes and shaking your head as you giggle.

you receive a dirty look from him, clearly offended and uninterested in the thought of putting in the hard effort to impress someone that isn’t you.

“aish, stop talking! i don’t like hearing you talk in that way.”

“then what else am i supposed to do? you’re the one who woke me up.” you retort in annoyance.

but you honestly don’t think there’s any secret to tell. jungkook is in love with you. plain and simple.

“you’re right, i’m sorry. go back to sleep if you want to.”

he dips down to plant gentle pecks on your shoulder, going down on a trail to your neck, and you unconsciously tilt your head to his convenience because he’s bringing the butterflies in your stomach back to life. it feels good, everything he does always feels good.

“you’re seriously not done?” you mumble against his lips, unfaltering with the kisses as if he would run out of them any minute now.

he stubbornly answers with a “no!” as his lips ghost over your cheek.

if only bam was here, jungkook would eventually leave you alone to rest. he would pester him with his late-night burst of affection instead while talking shit about you to your child because you dodged his kiss in your sleep.

“babe, you’re supposed to sleep. you have work later.”

“no, i don’t want to sleep. i… i want to kiss you- baby.” he protests as he continues to pepper your face with kisses, giving your body a particularly tight squeeze when he searches for your lips again.

you blink at him in confusion when he suddenly sends you a look of irritation, eyebrows furrowed and eyes glaring.

“you haven’t even said ‘i love you’ back yet.”

“oh, i haven’t?” you wince innocently. “sorry. i love you.”

but he should be the one apologizing to you, since it’s his fault that you still can’t think straight, or walk for that matter.

you pat around the mattress behind his back until you stumble upon the camera, and it’s jungkook’s turn to be your beloved muse. you scoot away until the lens manage to capture him down to his shirtless abdomen. you watch him in complete awe behind the viewfinder. he squints at you, raising his eyebrows flirtatiously, and he smirks when you chuckle in amusement.

“ah wait- take this! take this! you have to take a good one, got it? i worked so hard on them yesterday!” he eagerly voices out a special demand.

he shuffles to flex his arm infront of the camera, showing off his well-defined triceps and biceps while releasing rich, throaty grunts. totally unnecessary, but so achingly jungkook.

your boyfriend is outrageously, ridiculously sexy— he’s still wearing that stupid black headband he hastily put on in the middle of sex because he got pissed off at his hair and he needed it out of the way so he could ‘properly see his love’s beautiful body.’

you roll your eyes inside your head.

what a fucking tease.

nonetheless, you acquiesce.

the flash goes off.

and another polaroid is crafted into existence that you selfishly want to keep for your eyes only.

“baby, let me see.”

“it’s mine!” you scrunch your nose with a childlike charm, hiding the polaroid behind your back.

he chuckles, hopelessly endeared by you.

“yes, i’m yours.” he coos in response.

and your unguarded heart is once again swept away by the taste of his tongue. the camera becomes an abandoned item. your fingers daintily pushes off his headband in favor of freely tangling them with his silky hair, and it also ends up getting lost somewhere in the sheets as his sweet kisses lull you in a false sense of security… because out of nowhere, that same blazing light burns through your closed eyes for the second time tonight.

jungkook playfully waves the polaroid infront of your face, and his toothy grin is met by your unimpressed expression.

“this is mine!”

he has been waiting to jump into this type of opportunity, to orchestrate a romantic moment to be stolen in film— you can tell by the sparkles in his eyes. reminiscent of that one late night in a tiny photobooth where your younger and clueless selves were cramped in, this is what you and his hyungs often talk about, how much you share the same fondness for the fact that jungkook hasn’t changed at all.

“just how many pictures of you kissing me do you need?” you ask him lightheartedly.

he juts out his bottom lip sullenly, and a few beats pass before he forms an answer. “i always need more for when i miss you.”

you copy his frown. “then what about me when i’m missing you too?”

“hmmm… i want you to always remember me like this, baby.” he melodramatically declares as he picks up the one and only polaroid you’ve taken of him tonight. “can you see my abs too…? oh- it’s not showing yet.”

he looks back at you shyly with a laugh, and he places it back down to let it continue developing.

“i’ll look later. i can’t even keep my eyes open anymore. ‘m so tired.” you sadly sniffle to gain his pity, fluttering your damp eyelashes at him. “let’s go to sleep, please?”

jungkook doesn’t find it in himself to articulate a consolation or protest, not when you’re tugging him down to coax him into laying his head on your chest.

“heaven.” he moans, overcome by contentment.

he adjusts himself a bit to be more comfortable before dragging the comforter further upwards to provide warmth for the two of you, all the while refusing to remove his face nuzzled up against you.

“why are you always like this? can you even breathe?” you chuckle with your eyes closed.

“i love your boobs.” his honest reply comes out muffled, cute for some reason, along with his satisfied hums prompted by your nails lightly scratching his scalp.

“i know.”

he turns his head to the side to look up at you, and he carries on to speak with his cheek squished against you. “i really, really mean it.”

“yes, baby. i believe you.”

a minute of silence passes. the ecstasy still flooding your veins becomes a stepping stone in the pond towards your dreamland, where all is either fantastically perfect or horrifically fucked up.

but then you feel sloppy kisses being deliberately scattered in the middle of your chest, leading down to your stomach, and you get rudely knocked over into the cold, clear waters.

yes, plea- oh no, no, no, no.

“jungkook, baby, stop. i can’t go another round.” you whine pathetically, being driven closer to the urge to burst into tears.

“AH! o-ow- ouch- baby, wha- i swear, i wasn’t even planning on it!” he loudly exclaims in surprise when you harshly pull him away by his hair.

“still…” your voice cracks. “you know i’ll get turned on!”

his chuckles are infuriatingly raspy and of no help at all, ego inflating upon hearing your response and the frustration obviously laced with it.

“okay, okay! i’m sorry! i’ll behave now!”

thank god.

he assumes his previous position, the place that he deems to be the warmest and the coziest. as he wraps his arms around your waist, your fist relaxes into an open palm that cradles the back of his head.

“____?” he mumbles, finally feeling the tiredness seep into his sore muscles now that he’s lying motionless.

“hmm?”

“let’s eat dinner outside after work.”

“…meat?”

“and beer!” he adds, brimming with excitement, and he salivates as he can almost taste them in his mouth already. they are his favorite, after all.

“i’ll come pick you up then.” you drop a kiss on his forehead, and he sighs happily. “but go to sleep or else i’ll kick you out of the bedroom again.”

his sweet embrace becomes an iron grip.

cold and alone, he swears those were some of the worst three hours of his life.

he squeaks in defeat. “goodnight, baby.”

—

taglist in the reblogs! send an ask/dm if you want to be added (or removed) :D

—

[milkbobatyun]

foolish little dove

pairing: yandere!sunday x reader

genre: angstober, events, yandere

summary: the consequences of not listening to the head of the oak family

word count: 936

C O N T E N T W A R N I N G : yandere behaviour, manipulation, fear

a/n: this can be read as a continuation of my first yandere sunday piece 'my love, mine all mine'

the plush mattress of the bed dipped underneath you, the room furnished with an abundance of luxury—silk sheets, velvet drapes, golden accents, all shining in the glow of the candlelight. it was more than any common person could afford. yet, this was just a gilded cage, a dream disguised as a nightmare,

you were the dove, wings weighed down by invisible chains, helpless as you await for the fate your captor planned for you. the balcony teased you, thick, tempered glass doors teasing you, though it remained locked, the taste of freedom just out of reach.

oh how you prayed you could fly into the sky from the balcony, to feel the fresh air blow gently against your skin.

the vast room seemed to grow larger every day, the loneliness gnawed at your insides, making you yearn for company.

the sun rose and fell, night’s moonlight flooded the room. the repetitive ticking of the grandfather clock downstairs struck through throughout the room, the gramophone’s needle scratched out the same haunting tune, echoing around the bed chamber. 

you lost count of how many days you were locked up. the staff brought you your meals, took you to the bathroom to bath, their routine revolving around you like clockwork. your days began to blend into each other, making your mind a blurry haze.

today, a key jangled in the lock, the soft creak of the heavy oak door echoing in the still room.

sunday’s heavy boots thudded across the floor, muffled by the plush velvet carpet.

your blank gaze slid away from where your hands tangled each other, your hair hanging around your face like lifeless vines, towards the new figure in the room. when you catch sight of a white coat and not the mundane black uniform of the servants, your head snaps up, eyes lighting up with hope.

your eyes meet sunday’s steady gaze, lunging forwards, hands grasping at him, at his clothes, to prove to yourself he wasn’t a figment of imagination. those hallucinations happened more often now. 

sometimes, it was your family, screaming in agony, their bloody hands clawing at your exquisite clothing, cursing you to eternal suffering, their screams worming its way into your ears. other times, it was the trailblazer, haunting the dark corner of your room, a silent visitor who would stare blankly in your direction.

the smooth velvety fabric rippled cooling against your soft and warm skin. sunday’s mouth twitched into an amused smirk, as he closed the distance in a few long strides. for a fleeting second, you allowed yourself to believe that he was here, to free you from the cold shackles around your ankles. his cold hands, concealed by his pure white gloves, traced your face.

“my, my,” he purred, voice soothing. “how is my little dove?”

“please,” you pleaded, tears streaming down your face. “please, let me go… i beg of you” your voice trailed off, dying like the hope you held in your heart.

a hollow chuckle flooded the room, sunday’s face twisted in cruel humor.

“you still don’t get it, do you?” he hisses, voice taunting. “you’re mine now, little dove. even if i let you go, where would you go? home?” 

a twisted smirk adorned his face. 

“oh right,” he continued, tapping his finger on his chin in mock consideration. “you don't have one anymore! maybe because…they’re all dead!”

his eyes were alight with evil delirium, looking down upon you like a hawk would upon its prey. 

with one finger twirling a lock of your hair, sunday leaned close to your ear, lips brushing your ear like a lover’s promise, and whispered, “remember, my little dove, you’re mine now, always and forever.”

with a gentle, almost lover-like caress of your cheek, sunday placed a kiss on your forehead, before he turned on his heel, heading towards the door.

something within you snapped and you moved before you could think, hope shining in your eyes. you tried to run towards the opening. though your legs, weak with days of sitting around, failed you. sunday watched you with sadonic delight, gaze cold and emotionless as he observed you while you flailed about, like a newborn deer. 

throwing dignity to the wind, you dragged yourself towards the door, the comfort of the carpet burning against your skin. you watched as the shining sliver of freedom shut behind sunday. 

the door clicked shut with an echoing finality. hearing the snap of the lock, turning back into its place, you remained, clawing at the door. you were but a dove in a gilded cage, weighed down by invisible chains, freedom nothing but a cruel illusion, always out of reach.

taglist (open): @yeonjunsfox

∧,,,∧ ( ̳• · • ̳)  © curated with love by milkbobayun 2024 / づ ♡

[idkyetxoxo]

Aemond Targaryen - Hidden Heat

Summary - In the gardens, tension and desire collide as Aemond fiercely claims what's his, pushing boundaries with his wife in a dangerously public setting, all while others linger nearby, oblivious, or are they?

Pairing - Aemond Targaryen x reader

Warnings - Sexual content (smut!)

Word count - 2271

Masterlist for Aemond • House of the Dragon General Masterlist

"Lord Tully, your words are very kind," I replied, offering him a grateful smile as he complimented me with effortless charm.

The day was brilliantly sunny, and the keep buzzed with activity. Lords and ladies from the most esteemed houses gathered for the grand banquet hosted by the king later that night.

Seeking a brief respite from the throng, I had retreated to the gardens. Yet, it seemed that even here, I was not alone.

The garden was a sensory feast, alive with the fragrance of blooming roses and the gentle hum of bees, a soothing contrast to the vibrant chatter of the crowd.

"Married life seems to be treating you well, I hope?" Lord Tully inquired, his gaze warm and engaging. I chuckled softly, nodding in agreement.

"Indeed, it is," I said, though my attention wandered past him. I spotted my husband standing against a pillar, his gaze locked onto us with an intense, almost magnetic focus.

"I trust the prince treats you with the kindness and attentiveness you deserve?" he asked, his fingers brushing lightly against my hand as he spoke.

The fleeting touch sent a shiver through me, and I instinctively pulled my hand back, clasping them together in front of me.

I tried to maintain my composure, but I couldn't ignore the steely gaze of my husband, following the subtle exchange between Lord Tully and me.

Lord Tully seemed oblivious to the tension, his attention solely on me.

"You have such grace about you," he continued, his voice smooth and inviting. "It's no wonder the prince is so captivated by you."

My cheeks warmed slightly, though I kept a polite smile. Aemond's gaze, sharp and unwavering, was like a burning ember. He pushed himself away from the pillar and approached us with a deliberate, regal stride.

As he reached us, the air seemed to shift. His expression was calm, but the intensity in his eye was palpable.

"Lord Tully," Aemond said, his voice carrying an edge of formality, "I trust you're finding our gardens to your liking?"

Lord Tully's charm faltered momentarily. He straightened and offered a courteous bow.

"Yes, my prince, the gardens are exquisite, as always," he replied, his tone respectful but tinged with awkwardness.

"That's good to hear," Aemond said, his eye never leaving Lord Tully's face. "I trust you've enjoyed the conversation?"

"Very much," Lord Tully said, glancing at me with a subtle, questioning look before returning his attention to my husband. "Your wife is a delight."

Aemond's gaze softened slightly, though his eye remained sharp. "Indeed," he said, his voice measured, "she is."

With that, Aemond's presence cast a new shadow over the conversation. Lord Tully, sensing the shift, offered a polite nod before excusing himself, granting us a moment of privacy.

As he walked away, the garden's lively chatter resumed, but a different kind of tension lingered in the air.

Aemond's intense gaze fixed on me as he gently guided us to a nearby bench. His gesture was both commanding and tender, a silent declaration of his desire for us to be alone. Once seated, he pulled me onto his lap, his arms wrapping around me in a protective embrace.

"What happened?" I asked, my voice tinged with concern as I settled against him. The firmness of his chest beneath me was a comforting solidity amidst the social turmoil.

"He was rather taken with you," Aemond said, his voice low and steady. I looked down at him, confusion furrowing my brows.

"No, he wasn't," I replied, though my tone was more uncertain than I intended. Aemond's eye remained unwavering, his expression a mix of frustration and possessiveness.

"You're too naive to see it," he said, his tone softening slightly but still firm. I sighed, feeling a pang of guilt.

"I apologize," I murmured, reaching up to brush my fingers gently across his cheek. 

He captured my hand in his, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to my fingertips. The tenderness of his touch contrasted with the intensity of his words.

"I didn't mean to cause you distress," I said, resting my head against his shoulder. His arms tightened around me, offering comfort.

Aemond's fingers stroked my back soothingly, the warmth of his body a comforting contrast to the chill of the earlier confrontation.

"You have nothing to apologize for," he murmured, his voice a gentle reassurance that made me relax further into his embrace. I shifted slightly on his lap, finding a more comfortable position.

Suddenly, Aemond's hand shot out to grasp my arm, his voice tight with a breathless urgency.

"Don't do that," he gasped, and I was about to ask why when I felt the unmistakable hardness pressing against my thigh.

"Aemond," I whispered, shock and surprise mingling in my voice as I saw his eye flutter closed, a low, shaky breath escaping his lips.

I instinctively moved to stand, but his arms wrapped around my waist, pulling me back down onto his lap with forceful insistence.

"Don't move," he hissed through gritted teeth, and I felt the tension in his body holding me in place.

"Please," he whimpered, his head resting heavily against my back. 

His hand slid under the hem of my dress, fingers trailing dangerously close to the heat between my legs, sending a jolt of desire through me.

"Here?" I asked incredulously, trying to turn to face him, but he only hummed in response, his hand pressing firmly against the small of my back to keep me from moving.

"Aemond, someone could see us," I whispered, panic rising in my throat as I glanced around the garden. But he sighed, his voice a mix of frustration and need.

"No one's around," he assured, and I realized with a quick look that the garden was now eerily deserted.

"You're already so wet," he whispered against my ear, his words sending a flush of heat to my cheeks. There was no denying the way my body responded to him, betraying my own arousal.

"Fine," I breathed, and no sooner had the word left my lips that Aemond's hands were at his belt, unbuckling it with haste.

He freed himself, guiding his hardened length between my legs. The sensation of him filling me drew a soft, involuntary moan from my lips.

He began to move slowly, his hands gripping my waist to steady us both as he thrust upward. Each motion was deliberate, pulling me deeper into the intoxicating pleasure.

Our breaths became a symphony of soft moans and desperate gasps, lost in the rhythm of our shared desire. 

Then, the unmistakable sound of footsteps echoed nearby, and we both froze, panic flaring as I scrambled to pull my dress down. My hands trembled as I tried to cover us, though Aemond remained buried deep inside me.

"Mother," Aemond's voice was steady, though his body was taut with tension as Alicent came into view, followed closely by Ser Criston and Aegon.

My heart pounded in my chest as I struggled to maintain composure, praying they wouldn't notice the flush on my cheeks or the breathless look in my eyes.

Alicent's sharp eyes narrowed as she approached us, her gaze flickering with suspicion.

"What are you two doing?" she asked, her voice tinged with a mixture of concern and curiosity.

Aemond, ever composed, didn't miss a beat.

"Nothing, Mother," he replied, his tone smooth, though I could feel the tension radiating from him.

Inside me, I could feel his cock twitch, the sudden movement making it nearly impossible to keep a straight face. I bit down on my lower lip, desperately trying to suppress the gasp that threatened to escape.

Alicent's eyes lingered on me for a moment longer, and I could see the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. She seemed to sense something was amiss but chose not to press further.

I, on the other hand, could barely manage a smile, my thoughts clouded by the overwhelming sensation of Aemond still inside me.

Aegon, ever the mischief-maker, didn't let the moment pass unnoticed. He stepped forward with a wicked grin, his eyes glinting with amusement as he took in the scene.

"Why is she sitting on you, brother?" he asked, feigning innocence, though his smirk betrayed him. "There's more than enough space on the bench."

I could feel my face burn with embarrassment, the heat spreading from my cheeks down to my core as Aemond's cock pulsed within me. My breath hitched, and I struggled to maintain my composure under their scrutiny.

Aemond's grip on my waist tightened subtly, a silent reminder to stay still, to keep up the facade.

"She was just... tired," he said, his voice a careful balance of calm and authority. "We were resting for a moment."

Aegon's smirk only grew wider, his eyes dancing with mirth. He was clearly enjoying this far more than he should.

"Resting, hm?" he drawled, the insinuation unmistakable. "Interesting way to rest, I'd say." His smirk turned into a grin as he watched us, clearly savouring the delicate position we were in.

I shot Aegon a warning look, trying to silently communicate the urgency of our situation. But his amusement only grew, a soft chuckle escaping his lips as he revelled in the unexpected spectacle we had become.

Alicent, standing nearby, seemed torn between concern and a desire to move past the moment. Her eyes softened with motherly concern as she reached out to grasp my hand.

"My dear, are you alright? You seem flushed," she asked, her voice a soothing balm against the backdrop of tension.

The touch of her hand made my heart race, and I struggled to keep my voice steady, the weight of the situation pressing heavily upon me.

"Yes, I am fine," I managed to say, though my voice wavered under the strain. "I think it may be the heat," I added quickly, trying to explain away my flushed appearance.

Alicent nodded, her expression softening as she released my hand and stepped back, her concern still evident but now tempered with understanding.

"It is quite hot, isn't it?" Aegon chimed in, his grin widening further.

If looks could kill, Aemond's glare would have struck his brother down on the spot. Yet Aegon remained undeterred, clearly enjoying the discomfort his presence was causing.

I took a deep breath, but in doing so, my body betrayed me. My walls clenched involuntarily around Aemond, drawing a sharp gasp from him.

He leaned in, his breath warm against my ear as he whispered, "Please don't do that." I nodded subtly, willing my body to remain still despite the involuntary response.

"Are you in pain, my Prince?" Ser Criston asked, his eyes narrowing with suspicion as he observed Aemond's reaction.

His tone held a mix of concern and skepticism as if he sensed something was amiss.

"No," Aemond exhaled, shaking his head slightly to dismiss the question. His voice was tight, but he maintained his usual composure.

"I believe we should leave them be," Criston said, his gaze lingering on us with unsettling intensity. There was a knowing glint in his eyes that made my skin crawl, though he kept his distance, his voice calm.

"Should we, though?" Aegon quipped, clearly savouring the discomfort he was causing. I glared at him, hoping to convey the seriousness of the situation without drawing more attention.

"Aegon, come on," Alicent urged, her patience clearly wearing thin as she began to move away, following Criston who had already started walking off.

"How brave," Aegon murmured as he leaned in close, his voice a teasing whisper meant only for Aemond and me to hear. "Taking your wife in such an unconventional place."

The implication in his words sent a fresh wave of heat through my body, and I fought to maintain my composure.

"Leave. Right. Now," Aemond warned, his voice low and dangerous, his eye flashing with barely restrained fury.

Aegon laughed, raising his hands in mock surrender as he stepped back, still chuckling to himself as he finally turned to follow the others.

The moment Aegon was out of sight, I let out a long, shaky breath, relief washing over me like a cool breeze after a storm. My body relaxed slightly, the tension coiling within me unwinding.

I turned my head slightly, meeting Aemond's intense gaze.

"Should we continue?" he murmured, his voice now softened but still carrying a trace of the earlier intensity. His lips quirked into a half-smirk, the suggestion hanging playfully between us.

I couldn't help but laugh, the sound bubbling up as I playfully slapped his chest.

"You're hopeless," I teased, shaking my head as I carefully lifted myself off him, feeling the subtle ache from our earlier passion.

I adjusted my dress, smoothing the fabric with practised ease, while Aemond mirrored my movements, his calm demeanour making it seem as if nothing unusual had occurred.

"Perhaps in the safety of our chambers," I suggested, my voice tinged with a hint of mischief. A small smile played on my lips.

Aemond's smirk deepened at my words, his eye gleaming with that familiar, dangerous allure. Without a word, he grabbed my hand, his grip firm yet gentle, and began leading me down the familiar path toward our chambers.

As we navigated the winding corridors, the thrill of our earlier encounter buzzed beneath my skin, the memory fueling anticipation for what was to come.

I felt the warmth of Aemond's hand in mine, his presence a steady comfort and a reminder of our deep connection.

When we finally reached the doors of our chambers, Aemond paused, turning to face me. His gaze was intense, his smirk giving way to something deeper, more profound.

He pulled me close, his lips brushing against my ear as he whispered, "Let's continue where we left off."

His voice was thick with promise, sending a shiver of excitement down my spine.

I nodded, my heart pounding in anticipation as we stepped into the privacy of our chambers, leaving behind the dangers of the garden for the sweet indulgence of our desire.

A/n - Nothing says 'a romantic interlude' like a surprise visit from the in-laws!

Aemond tag list - @darylandbethfanforever9 @lessdepressy

[ninibeingdelulu]

Three types of kisses ft. leon kennedy

Slow Motion Type:

Leon's lips brushed against yours sending sparks through your body. His rough fingers tilted your chin up, lining you both up before going any further.

Those intense slate eyes stayed locked on you, reading your reactions while he gradually increased the pressure bit by bit.

Savoring how you melted together, eliminating any space between you.

Everything beyond that singular connection faded away as Leon slowly drew you both deeper into that mesmerizing trance binding your very essences as one...

Teasing type :

His lips grazed yours briefly before that signature smirk returned, knowingly pushing your buttons now.

Those strong hands gripped your flushed face steady while your breathing raced from the light tease leaving you desperately craving more that he delighted in controlling.

A mischievous glint sparked in his eyes before he started trailing fleeting licks and nips along your parched skin.

No pattern, just arbitrarily lighting up nerves across any exposed area like he owned you until your whole body throbbed for release from his sublime torture.

Only once you completely surrendered as his plaything did Leon crash his lips back onto yours. The searing reunion making you moan out every ounce of blissful suffering you endured for this exquisite payoff...

French Kiss Type:

Without warning, Leon lunged forward locking you into his intoxicating tractor beam. Those toned arms yanked you flush against his powerful frame, hungry intensity buring straight through you.

No hesitating, his skilled tongue bulldozed past your lips claiming ownership over every inch of your existence in that moment...

His tongue ruthlessly invaded your deepest spaces without mercy, plundering your most sacred places while extracting complete submission through dominating conquest.

Your very essences hemorrhaged together, searing away all boundaries until only unity remained.

Leon's mastery fused you into a higher ascended oneness in that infinite singularity.

Creating an eternal genesis of sublime rapture initiating you into realms beyond this plane through divine communion as one...

[cloudwisp]

𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐲 · 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐩𝐬, 𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐩𝐬

contents: fluff. established relationship. mildly suggestive. wriothesley finds your lips irresistible in the color red. 1.1k wc.

“You look absolutely stunning, sweetheart.”

The soft curve of your lips spreads into a smile at the sound of Wriothesley’s voice followed by your gaze flickering to his pensive appearance from the reflection in the looking glass. There he casually leans against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest with a fond smile of his own settled over his face. He’s perfectly dressed in a dark-tone tailored suit and his usual loose tie around his neck, and with the way he’s posing it makes you think he wants to draw your attention to the outline of his muscular biceps under all those layers.

“You look quite handsome yourself. I’m almost ready, just need the last final touch…” You drawl, as you continue where you left off to smear the pigment of the bold lipstick over your bottom lip and you don’t notice the way the innocent act itself seems to have enamored him. Your ring finger then lightly taps the plush of your lips to blend the color seamlessly until you hum in approval with a nod of your head after doing a once over of yourself. Your legs swing over the side of the chair to bring yourself upright and after smoothing the wrinkles of your dress you chime, “All ready now!”

“New dress? Looks lovely on you, darling.” You could feel the heat of Wriothesley’s gaze roam over your body, taking in your features and the exquisite outfit that you spent hours getting ready for the gala tonight. He pushes himself from the threshold and with a few short strides, he gently grabs your waist reeling you into him while his other hand brushes against the expensive fabric that he spent good money on before resting on your hip.

“And you’re just a vision in red right now.” There’s a hint of primal desire behind his eyes as he glances down to your beautifully painted lips. He feels himself inching closer and closer to revel in its softness when suddenly he finds your index finger pressed to his lips instead.

“Sorry Wrio, I don’t want to ruin my lipstick.”

He blinks once and twice, and a chuckle escapes him when he registers that you denied his advances to save yourself from a little lipstick smear. That’s fine by him, so he just needs to work a bit harder for your sweet loving affections. He takes your hand that’s between you both in his much larger one and peppers several quick kisses over your knuckles, his thumb brushing over your skin as he moves to hold your hand simply down by your side. “Not even going to give me a taste? Just one wouldn’t hurt. Enough to tide me over for the night.”

“We played that song before, and we were almost an hour late the last time.” Your hands reach up to adjust his tie and he gives a low groan when you tighten it to properly fit around his neck. He knows that you’re right with the way his smirk broadens at you. A sweet taste from you is only going to make him want more of you, and now he’s thinking about how much he wants to ruin that lipstick just to see your messy lips. He’d even let you leave lipstick stains in the shape of your gorgeous lips all over him if that’s what you wanted. And that stunning dress he can’t wait to take off later…

“Ah. You’re killing me here, sweetheart.” His eyes wander down to your lips for a moment once again before slowly drifting back up to meet your gaze. He presses himself against you and you can feel his warm breath against your lips, “Fine, fine. But I could use a little color on me. I’m so monochrome. How about right here?” He taps his cheek, looking at you with mock innocence.

You feel like you could see right through him, but you don’t want to be a complete spoilsport and ruin all the fun so after much contemplation you finally relent because a fleeting kiss on the cheek should be harmless. And it wouldn’t be too much trouble getting him all cleaned up and appearing presentable again with the few minutes that you both have to spare before it’s time to make your departure.

“Okay, I suppose that’s fine. Just a kiss on the cheek.”

“That’s what I like to hear.” A cheeky grin tugs at the corners of his mouth and he doesn’t hide his eagerness to turn his cheek toward you to receive your love. You laugh quietly to yourself with a small shake of your head in amusement as you gently take his face in both your hands, one resting on his cheek and the other on the nape of his neck. On your tippy toes, you crane your neck to plant a soft peck on him but much to your surprise you kiss him fully on the lips when he does a quick movement at the very last second. “See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“No. no, it wasn’t.” You’re nothing but soft giggles and adoring smiles despite being outsmarted by your boyfriend, and you feel him slip his arms loosely around your waist locking his fingers together at your lower back. Your thumb goes to wipe away the transferred smudge from his lips, and you always feel so seen when he looks at you with such tenderness behind his eyes after he was much too pleased with himself for stealing a brief kiss from you. “Was that everything you hoped for?”

“For now? Yes. But I won’t be able to stop thinking about your lips, or wanting to pull you off into some secluded room during tonight’s event.” He says almost teasingly, but it sounds more like a tempting offer if you somehow decide the festivities aren’t meeting your expectations or you need a moment away for some quiet time with him. And you suppose, the same thoughts have surfaced in your mind when you first saw his delectable get-up in the mirror but you couldn’t bear the embarrassment of explaining your late arrival to Monsieur Neuvillette with frenzied excuses again.

“That’s quite the imagination you have there.” Wriothesley notices that you’re not outright denying him of such tasteful fantasies, and he knows that it’s only a matter of time before you eventually cave into his enticing seduction. “We should head out now if we want to make it there on time.”

[nayziiz]

Freckles | LN4

Pairing: Lando Norris x reader (she/her)

Author's note: I'm trying something a little bit different with shorter form fics, so please send through any requests or feedback. These one shots will likely not have a second part unless it really speaks to me to continue with it. Thank you!

Masterlist

In the public eye, Lando Norris was a figure shrouded in misconception. People projected onto him their own fantasies and assumptions, painting him as a hedonistic playboy living a life defined by fleeting pleasures. Yet, behind the veil of rumours and gossip, Lando harboured a far more complex truth.

Contrary to popular belief, it wasn't the physical act of sex that enticed Lando. Instead, it was the elusive intimacy th!

In the quiet sanctuary of their shared moments, Lando found solace in the tender details that transcended mere physical gratification. As their bodies entwined in a dance of passion, it was the subtleties that ignited his soul.

He cherished the way her head would lull back, surrendering to the waves of pleasure that swept over her, her eyes closing in blissful abandon. Each pant and sigh echoed in the intimacy of their shared space, a symphony of desire that spoke volumes without words.

But it was in the moments of tender connection that Lando found his truest fulfilment. As their fingers intertwined, a silent affirmation of their bond, he revelled in the unspoken language that passed between them. With every thrust, every heartbeat, they forged a connection that transcended the physical realm, anchoring them in a world of their own creation.

Her gaze, unwavering and intense, held him captive in a realm of shared intimacy, each glance a testament to the depths of their connection. In the hushed whispers of their lovemaking, they found a refuge from the chaos of the world, a sanctuary where their souls could intertwine without fear or judgement.

Her touch, featherlight and electric, sent shivers cascading down his spine, igniting a symphony of sensation that reverberated through his being. In the gentle caress of her hands, he found a home—a sanctuary where he could lay bare his soul without reservation.

For Lando, the culmination of their love was not measured in mere moments of release, but in the exquisite tapestry of connection they wove with each shared breath. In the quiet intimacy of their embrace, he found a love that surpassed all understanding—a love that left him breathless, craving more with every beat of his heart.at surrounded it, the connection forged in vulnerability and trust. While others sought superficial encounters, Lando craved the depth of genuine connection, a yearning that only intensified as his public persona diverged further from his private reality.

Amidst the clamour of misconceptions, there was one person who understood Lando in a way no other could. She saw beyond the facade, delving into the depths of his soul where his true desires resided. Their bond transcended the superficialities of fame and fortune, rooted in mutual understanding and unwavering support.

For Lando, intimacy wasn't a commodity to be bought or traded—it was a sacred exchange reserved for those who cherished his true self. And in the tumultuous world of fame, there was only one person capable of satiating his craving for authentic connection.

In the hushed aftermath of their shared ecstasy, Lando would draw her close, her body yielding to the gentle weight of his embrace. With a tenderness born of reverence, he would trace the constellation of freckles that adorned her skin, each one a testament to the beauty of their shared moments.

Starting at her wrists, he would press soft kisses against her delicate flesh, a silent homage to the journey they had embarked upon together. Slowly, reverently, his lips would trail upward, mapping the landscape of her body with an intimacy that transcended words.

As he reached her shoulders, he would linger, savouring the warmth of her skin beneath his lips. Each freckle became a point of connection, a tiny universe unto itself, as he traced their patterns with a reverence that bordered on worship.

Moving lower, his touch would dance across her back, following the gentle curve of her spine with a tender reverence. With each kiss, each caress, he would weave a tapestry of intimacy that bound them together in an unbreakable bond.

But it was when his lips found the freckles scattered across her thighs that the true depth of their connection was revealed. In those moments, as he traced the contours of her skin with a gentleness born of love, they were no longer two separate beings but a single entity bound by the threads of passion and desire.

And as she leaned against him, her body still humming with the echoes of their lovemaking, she would search for the few freckles that dotted his own skin, a silent invitation to reciprocate the intimate exchange. In the wordless language of their love, they found a connection that transcended the physical realm—a connection forged in the heat of passion and tempered by the gentle touch of understanding.

[ekuudarlin]

♥︎ 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭: 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐲/𝐧 𝐬𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠: “𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐬𝐨 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐦𝐞. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐝 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞. 𝐀𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐥𝐥, 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮.”

♥︎ 𝐓𝐲𝐩𝐞: reaction

♥︎ 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬, 𝐨𝐛𝐯𝐢 𝐨𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐥𝐮𝐬𝐭, 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐜𝐲 𝐢𝐧𝐯𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬, 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐩𝐡𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐦

♥︎ 𝐒𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐫: 𝐈’𝐦 𝐡𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐫𝐲—𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭’𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐥

You uttering those words from your pretty lips give him pause. “A-Angel?” he stammers, pulling away from your neck where he had been pressing open mouth kisses prior. He’s staring at you in disbelief, eyes wide like a dear caught in headlights. An all too familiar heat crawls up his chest and setting on cheeks.

Did he hear that right? God, let him have heard you right. Let it not be another daydream playing tricks on him. The words flow too sweetly to only be his imagination. Would he be so cruel to himself to imagine you saying those very words? Yes, he would. He already went so far as to imagine a whole life with you, not much difference in that.

“C-Can you repeat that?” He’s seeking confirmation. His arctic eyes hold a growing intensity that rivals the heat of the blush splashed over his fair cheeks. When you repeat yourself, it’s not at all as confident as the first time—the embarrassment was settling in.

Ren didn’t really feel the same. He was swooning inside despite it not showing on shocked expression yet. His heart felt like it was going to combust in his chest with how over the moon he felt. One blink, his facial expression changes to one you haven’t really seen on him. He’s squinting down at you, a impish twinkle in his eyes and a grin slowly etches onto his face.

You really are an angel—you had to have heard his prayers. You’re giving him what he always wanted—with no restraints. Ren’s trembling as he’s still attempting to hold himself back; it’s too soon for him to drop all his future plans on you right now. So many plans—

“You make me so happy, baby,” he coos, lowering himself to your face. Being this close, you swear you can see hearts in his eyes, “But don’t you worry! I’ll make you feel so much, promise!”

For a fleeting moment—your words fail to capture his attention. Lost in the enchanting image of you, partially naked beneath him, he only snaps back to the conversation when your demeanor shifts to shyness, making him realize he missed a part of what was said.

"Are you okay, rosebud?" he murmurs sweetly, gently tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, placing your well-being above his own needs for the moment. In response, you repeat yourself hastily, your voice resembling a squeak, akin to a mouse caught in a trap.

Truly, there wasn’t a more accurate description. You’re trapped in Damon’s arms, and he gazes at you as if you’re the most exquisite meal he’s ever encountered. Your words shatter the composure he usually maintains for your safety—a concern he takes seriously.

Dealing with this unhealthy, secret obsession for you is difficult on its own—something he constantly has to control, particularly in moments like these to not scare you away. Now, you're indicating that he doesn't need to hold back, but you're unaware of just how misguided that suggestion is for him.

It would be a lie if he claimed not to have dreamed of you uttering similar words, and on those occasions, he seizes the opportunity. In dreams, you're less fragile and more aware of who he truly is. Oh, his poor rosebud.

A desire-filled growl rumbles deep in his chest, and he accompanies it with one of his signature toothy grins. "Careful with your words, love... you're sparking all sorts of ideas in me."

John felt as though he wasn't truly present with you; instead, he felt himself drifting above, observing the interaction unfold like a scene from a romcom he had grown fond of watching. It was during those moments that you were at your most physical.

Though this time isn't much different, your words struck a chord as they flowed from your lips like sweet nectar. He couldn't recall a time when you had ever spoken so provocatively, and he remembers every detail about you...

Things you couldn't bring yourself to confess even to God, that often weighed heavily on your conscience, shrouded in shame. Yet, your web history left a trail of breadcrumbs that John consumed with an unhealthy fervor, imitating them solely for your sake. He was willing to do anything for you.

He's come a long way, enduring every bad end repeatedly so that you could ultimately end up like this, nestled comfortably in his arms, exchanging sweet nothings that meant the world to him and more.

Weakness overcomes him as his focus returns, his eyes filled with adoration fixed on you. There's nothing he can do but express it. "Me too!" he exclaims, his smile resembling a chester's cat, strands of hair cascading across his face. "You can be rough, I'm yours!"

John leans in, planting kisses on your face repeatedly, murmuring, "Forever and ever and ever," before trailing to your neck.

Alan is in the process of burying his face into your clothed stomach when you speak those magic words. A shiver, filled with anticipation and excitement, dances down his spine—naughty and sinful. He pauses, stuck in a trance as he replays the words in his head.

Do you have any idea what you do to him—truly? As if his heightened senses of smell, touch, and even taste weren't sufficient, you further bless him with your teasing words. He silently thanks whoever is out there that he's currently spooning you, or else he would collapse from weakened knees.

He remains silent for a moment longer than expected, leading you to believe he didn't hear you. But he did—he's simply grappling with the shock and contemplating how to translate those words into action. He's thought about it before, of course he has.

Perhaps not to cause physical harm, but to assert his control, guiding you into every imaginable position within minutes, leaving you placid and breathless, entirely for his pleasure.

Alan looks up at you, a feral intensity gleaming in his eyes. You can almost envision him casting heart eyes your way, his gaze a perfect blend of adoration and want. “Mine to do what I want.” He says it more as a promise—a statement more than anything else.

Any ordinary person might raise an eyebrow at your preference for pain, but Jack smiles, perhaps even blushes. He feels honored, particularly by your declaration of love. He belongs to you as well—he's uncertain how many times he needs to affirm it, but he will, without hesitation.

Under no circumstances will he physically harm you—he doesn’t even enjoy choking you, despite your preference for it. The most he'll do is leave painful and long-lasting hickeys on your body or handle you into position a bit roughly. Anything beyond that is off the table. He's a big guy, and hurting you is the furthest thing from his mind.

He’s too preoccupied with making you happy. His little ray of sunshine, the reason he doesn’t linger on the past is because the present with you is so fulfilling. Waking up beside you gives him a sense of happiness and purpose.

Even if that purpose is to consume you whole—sinfully.

He chuckles softly, his eyelids drooping to a dangerously seductive degree, sending a jolt through your core. "I could never harm you," he murmurs, practically purring as he draws you in closer. "You're my sunshine," he says, as though it’s the most obvious truth. And indeed, to him, it is.

"But I'm more than willing to make you cry out in pleasure."

It was difficult for you to even utter the words with his tongue shoved down your throat. You could say he really ate it up—both literally and figuratively. When he finally pulled away to allow you to catch your breath, he was grinning so wide, your cheeks ached just from looking at him.

Peter is thrilled. He knows deep down he's a bit of a freak—the only person unaware of this between the two of you is you. Maybe later after he folds you like a pretzel you'll realize mentioning something like this wasn't the best idea, but for now, he's thrilled. Your confession, or rather demand, came much sooner than he anticipated though. Shocked him just a little.

Originally, he planned to discuss introducing new elements into the bedroom, but this turn of events suits him perfectly. However, he knows he needs to take things slow, even though his mind is already racing ahead, imagining how he wants you to end up—preferably begging. But he's a very patient man.

“You’re so fucking cute… You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for those words.” He murmurs low, slowly trailing kisses down your body with a steady grip on both your thighs.

[libbybee]

IN THE HEAT OF YEARNING — SA.

summary: after cazador's defeat, astarion faces something he thought lost to time; his heat returning with a force he never expected. the unfamiliar sensation of longing mixed with freedom make him torn between the instinct to dominate and the desire to surrender to you. warnings: MDNI 18+, female!reader, sub!dom vampire spawn, shameless smut, mentions of astarion's past, pleading, dependence, masturbation [M], anorgasmia [M], p in v, vaginal sex, cock riding, unprotected sex, creampie. word count: 6K+ MASTERLIST . SPOTIFY PLAYLIST . AO3 . GIF

a/n: english isn't my native language, sorry if there are grammar mistakes.

‎

It had been weeks, perhaps months, since you helped him put an end to his master, Cazador. Even now, Astarion wasn’t sure how to feel or what to do.

The sensation of freedom hit him like a tornado tearing through his life, leaving him adrift and uncertain. Even the pronunciation of the words caught on his tongue, clinging to his throat whenever he tried to voice a trace of what he felt.

Declaring himself “unchained” sounded jarring to his ears, but, fortunately, there you were to help him adjust to these unfamiliar emotions that weighed on his shoulders. With everything that freedom entailed. Everything.

He hadn’t told you about this... personal problem of his. Truthfully, he couldn’t bring himself to do it, ashamed of what you might think or say if you found out.

Astarion knew it was foolish to feel so ashamed, especially considering the kind of person you were and how much better you treated him than the nightmares of his past—the loneliness that had surrounded him since he had begrudgingly accepted the curse of immortality. But, gods, just thinking about it made his throat tighten painfully and his hands tremble with cold sweat.

He tried his hardest to confess to you on those unique occasions you shared in private, when there was no one else around to overhear, but every time, he backed down.

After so many failed attempts, he stopped considering it altogether, only cursing himself for not telling you sooner.

Now, feeling this unbearable urge, he was determined not to say a word. Nothing in hell would make him... except his very self.

His lips whimpered pathetically, your name slipping through gasps muffled against the fabric of your panties. His eyelids squeezed shut, his other hand massaging the head of his cock tightly enough to hurt, desperately trying to mimic the sensation of your warm walls wrapped around him. Only to fail miserably.

His vampirism had awakened this cursed heat, a condition he loathed to the very core of his damned nature, yet he couldn’t prevent or fight against it. He had spent decades quelling his desires in solitude, without anyone to ease the craving when he needed it most.

The self-pity of it swelled his skin, feeling himself become so... damned “sweetly necessitous” and so lovesick for anyone who crossed his path in those times when he was still delivering prey to his master. But now he had you. And gods, you were going to be a problem. The faint traces of your arousal on the crushed fabric pressed to his nose were enough to drive him mad; you smelt so, so irresistibly good...

Fleeting memories of the first time he bit you flashed through his mind in a haze of desperation to reach his orgasm. The sweetness of your blood, like rich port wine on his tongue, was the finest thing he’d experienced in his entire existence.

He was quite clear just how thoroughly you’d unravelled his self-reliance. This inefficiency blazed brighter than ever in his mind each time he found himself dependent on you and you weren’t there for him, just like now. Craving you in a way he hadn’t needed anyone in lifetimes.

The sheer sensation of having your naked body pressed up against his while he buried himself balls deep inside you, the feeling of the perfect, welcoming warmth from that exquisite pussy of yours, gripping him as if he were the most vital thing in your life... He’d give anything to feel you like that right now; have you easing his agonising heat until his pain and loneliness were fully sated. But these thoughts only sent his urgency skyrocketing higher than ever.

The side of your shared bed still held your intoxicating scent, and pressing your panties to his sharp nose reminded him of how tightly your walls would clench around him every time he thrust in and out of your perfect cunt as he fucked it exactly how he knew to so well. An intense desperation took hold of him, slamming his clenched fist into his quivering pelvis to fuck his hand with a ferocity that echoed how he would fuck you again if you were here. By now, thick beads of his precum trickled from his swollen tip, sliding down his pale, agile fingers.

His silky white curls clung to his sweat-dampened forehead and nape, his teeth gritting in nothing but frustration at his inability to reach that elusive release. Each time he came close, the peak seemed to slip away, taunting him from just out of reach. But he couldn’t fully blame himself, because deep down, he knew he didn’t want to cum like this.

It wasn’t just the release he craved; it was you. Without you here, everything felt hollow; his touch was a pitiful substitute for the real thing. He wanted nothing more than to cum inside you, to hear the sweet, melodic sounds of your moans and gasps as his warm semen filled you, seeping out around the edges of his cock as he stayed buried deep within. He longed to watch you bask after your climax, knowing you were utterly his in that moment, both bound in bliss.

The fantasy gripped him, vivid and fierce—an impossible hope to leave something lasting within you, to fill you until he could almost imagine creating life together, even though he knew his cursed being would never allow such a thing. Yet the thought alone, however unattainable, only drove his need further, intensifying his urge to fuck you completely, as if every part of him belonged to you, even in ways that fate had denied him.

A deep flush spread from his cheeks to the very tips of his sensitive ears as he realised just how utterly charmed he was by you and how his mind overflowed with visions of you and only you. He could see it all so vividly: your gorgeous, tempting pussy, the soft contours of your breasts that fit his hands as though crafted just for him and his carnal lust, your lips swollen from his endless kisses, and your eyes glazed, pupils blown wide with pleasure.

Every detail of you was etched into his mind—an addicting vision he couldn't escape. You were the star of every lustful scene that played out in his imagination, the embodiment of his most desperate fantasies.

He tried once more to focus, though his body trembled atop the sheets with sheer need. He closed his eyes and fantasised about your pussy all reddened and swollen for him, glistening in your rich juices and so deliciously wet that you’d be dampening the sheets beneath you.

Astarion could almost feel the anxious pulse of your clit, just begging for his mouth and tongue. The thought of his lips grazing that sensitive bundle, tormenting it to the point of agony, filled his mind, and he could hardly help but drool. He could practically taste you, the luscious, toxicant sweetness of your arousal filling him as he’d lavish every inch of your cunt with his mouth, sucking and licking with ravenous need until you were drenched.

He let out a low, frustrated growl, swirling his closed fist just around his incarnate tip in a futile attempt to force his climax, but his mind betrayed him, flooding with vivid images of your sweaty body and the insatiable pussy he yearned so badly. However, he was pretty clear: nothing could replace you. Not his hand, not the fantasies that had become a poor substitute, nothing could come close to the reality he wanted.

In his mind, he saw you beneath him, legs spread-eagled, your lips calling his name in whispered moans that grew louder with each thrust. He could nearly feel your breath against his ear, filling him with the sweet sound of your whimpers, each one more desperate than the last. His hand felt pitifully inadequate compared to being buried deep inside you, his body pressed down against yours as he consumed every last piece of you.

In the quiet shadows of your bedroom, he trembled with the wrenching pain, torn between hunger and exasperation. His voice whispered out, barely audible, “My love… I need you.”

Astarion’s breathing came in ragged gasps as he chased a release that refused to reach him. Tightening his hand to increase his movement speed, he became almost frantic, as though sheer desperation could fill the emptiness of not having you. His head tipped back, eyes squeezing shut as he let out a strangled moan against your panties, your lovely name slipping from his lips like a mantra.

He was completely lost, so absorbed that he didn't even hear the soft creak of the door or the faint shuffle of your footsteps.

You’d woken in the night, drowsily reaching for him only to find the other side of the bed empty, letting your hand land on cool sheets instead of his skin. Concerned and bleary-eyed, you went looking for him, thinking that perhaps a nightmare had drawn him away.

But nothing could have prepared you for the sight before you.

In the dim light spilling from cracked curtains of a window, his silhouette trembled, his hips bucking desperately into his hand as if he couldn’t stand another second of the ache inside him. His cheeks were flushed with a feverish red, and his lips parted to release soft, breathless whimpers. His grip on himself was almost punishing, fingers digging into his flesh as he stroked with an almost frenzied pace, trying to force himself to the relief he sought but clearly struggling.

You inched closer, entranced by the sight of his body arching and tensing, brow knit in frustration as he let out quiet, ragged curses under his breath. His voice, thick with desperation, cracked as he whispered your name as if the mere thought of you was both a balm and a torment. He was so lost, so utterly engrossed in his aching need, that he didn’t notice your presence. He didn’t felt your eyes or the way your own heart raced at the sight of him.

Unable to resist, you let out a quiet voice calling his name while opening the door, just loud enough to break through his veil.

He snapped open his eyes, the red irises gleaming in the darkness as he finally became aware he wasn’t alone. Astarion froze, lips parting in shock as his gaze met yours, the flush in his cheeks deepening as he felt instantly embarrassed with your underwear under his nose. The rich fabric of his Victorian shirt clung to his chest, slightly askew from his restless movements.

“I was… I wasn’t expecting you…” He managed to speak with a low, rough voice, as if pulled straight from the depths of his body. He relaxed slightly in an attempt to regain his composure, though his cock gave a subtle, instinctual thump against his stomach as he failed to suppress his arousal. Then he swallowed hard, the exposed skin at his throat glistening in the dim light for his sweat, his expression a blur of yearning and bashfulness.

You took another step closer to your old bed. The intensity of his state made your breath quicken as you took in every detail of his parted lips, the flush trailing to his ears, the slight tremor in his fingers as he tried to maintain them steady...

“Couldn’t sleep, Astarion?” You asked with both curiosity and... somewhat understanding.

Astarion let out a sigh while a soft smile tugged at his lips. “It seems I have… trouble finding satisfaction without you, my dear.” He lowered the fabric of your underwear from his face to leave it on the nightstand, his eyes never leaving yours, although his vulnerable yet unabashedly captivated emotions.

“Come here…” He murmured in a velvet purr as he reached out, inviting you. His eyes gleamed with want, and, at that moment, he felt himself wholly yours to possess and do whatever you wanted, but you didn't know just yet.

His delicate fabric slightly loosened at the collar and sleeves, a bit untied, his hair tousled... This image of him awakened something inside you, drawing you deeper into his charming and cuddly spell.

You reached for his hand, marvelling at how adorable he looked at this moment. With a serene smile, you settled beside him on the bed, the mattress dipping under your weight as you sat close enough to feel his body almost touching yours.

Astarion let out a long, shaky breath, his body finally relaxing as he leaned into you, his forehead coming to rest on your shoulder. He was warm, and you could feel the faint tremor in his body as if something had unravelled his entire being.

Then he let out a low, breathless giggle; the sound tinged with relief and a hint of humour. “You’re toying with me…” He murmured softly against your skin before placing a kiss on it with a touch of playful reproach. “Leaving me here, all night... suffering by myself.” His words were light, but you could feel the weight behind them, the hollowness he rarely showed.

As his head rested heavily against your shoulder, Astarion’s fingers tangled in your hair, gently gripping it as if securing himself to you. His touch was both eager and tender as he instinctively snuggled closer to encircle your waist, seeking solace in your embrace. It was a stark contrast to that usually composed and confident vampire you knew, making him appear almost childlike as if he were looking for comfort after a nightmare.

You wrapped your arms around him, pulling him closer against you. The way he nestled into you made your soul melt in affection, but a flicker of concern crept into your mind as you wondered what had haunted him in the quiet solitude of the night. His sigh was soft, barely audible, and his grip on your hair tightened, almost as if he feared losing you in this vulnerable moment.

“What’s wrong, Astarion?” You asked softly while caressing his arm gently. “Why didn’t you wake me?”

He furrowed his brow slightly, the weakness in his demeanour becoming more pronounced. “I suppose… I thought I could manage. But it seems I could not.” His voice was low, laced with an honesty that took you even by surprise.

Before continuing, he took a deep breath to steel himself. “There’s something I haven’t told you... something I’ve been trying to suppress.” As he spoke, his eyes peered at your face, a mixture of uncertainty and yearning reflected in their blackness. The playful humour that often danced in his gaze was gone, replaced by a rawness that tugged at your heartstrings.

You searched his eyes to urge him to continue while your thoughts already were wondering what it could be. “What is it?”

Astarion swallowed hard, his brow furrowing as he wrestled with his emotions. “I... I’m in my heat...” He finally confessed. “After everything that happened with Cazador, I thought I could control it and push it away. But it’s relentless. This... need; it’s too much, and I’ve been fighting it alone for so long.”

You instinctively pulled him closer, the warmth of your body against his providing a gentle anchor in the storm of his turmoil. Feeling a surge of empathy, you cupped his cheek, your thumb brushing softly over his cheek, hoping to erase any sense of his silly shame. “Astarion... You are not alone any more. I’m here... with you.”

He leaned into your touch, a faint shudder passing through him as he let out a soft sigh, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly for your words. “I didn’t want to burden you with this, darling…”

“You could never be a burden to me, silly.” You reassured him.

A liberating glint passed through his eyes before they narrowed slightly, his expression gentling as he leaned his cheek into the warmth of your hand. “So tell me, my darling... what are you going to do with me now?” He asked sweetly, smiling with some curiosity, as though he were either coaxing you forward... or daring you to finish what he’d started.

You held his gaze for a few seconds longer before letting your eyes drop to his hard, aching length.

You slowly pull out of his embrace to rise from the bed, then with unhurried motions, you slip your fingers beneath the waistband of your pyjama trousers and your panties, sliding them down your legs. The fabric fell to the floor, quickly joined by your bra, leaving you bare before him. The chilly winter air grazed your skin, causing a shiver to dance along your back and harden your nipples instantly.

“I’m going to take care of you…” You saw how his eyes roamed over every inch of you with his usual intense, hungry gaze, caressing your body as though it were a precious treasure he could finally hold.

Astarion’s gaze returned to yours with a warm, wide smile, brimming with adoration and desire. “You’re…breathtaking…” He murmured, almost as though speaking the words out loud might shatter the moment.

Your heart swelled at the sight of him, so open, so vulnerable, and so utterly yours. You settled back onto the bed beside him, leaning close as you placed a soft, reassuring kiss against his cheek. Letting your hand drift from his thigh to his lap to wrap your fingers around his cock, feeling the hardness of it, respond immediately to your gentle touch by throbbing excitedly. You began to slowly stroke him, keeping a slow yet steady rhythm.

He moaned softly, his head fell back, and his eyes closed while a subtle shudder ran through him. His fingers instinctively clung to your arm; the look of pure need etched from his face only spurred you on. Your strokes grow firmer as each pass of your hand drew a new, delicious sound from his delicate lips. During that, you leaned closer to let your warm breath graze his neck before you started to spread soft kisses along it.

His usual composure had crumbled, giving way to a raw, unrestrained need—a desperation born of decades of unsatisfied feelings and the maddening ache of his heat. He tried so hard to find satisfaction, but nothing had ever been enough since he met you. Only you could soothe this torment and bring him the relief he required.

You pulled back slightly from his neck, meeting his eyes as you paused your attentions to gently nudge him onto the bed. He didn’t resist at all, allowing you to do whatever you wanted with him and looking at you with sparkling impatience across his darkened pupils.

You ran your hands along his thighs one more time, fingertips tracing over every taut line and curve, savouring the feel of his skin. As you settled on the mattress to straddle his hips, you leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to his stomach, your lips grazing over the fabric stretched over his torso. Your hands travelled up, resting on his chest, where you could feel his muscles tense beneath his clothing. With a teasing smile, you left a gentle trail of kisses along his uncovered chest, up to his collarbone, and finally brushing your lips along his jaw.

His hands locked to your thighs, his breaths warm as he relaxed in your presence. He allowed himself to be vulnerable before you, and it was unlike anything you had seen in him before. He looked as though he might beg at any moment, desperate and undone. His fingers trembled slightly as he held you tighter, sliding his hands up to grip your hips.

“Is this what you want?” You asked, although you already knew the answer well, just to savour this moment, having him so needy for you.

His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed, his answer slipping out almost without thought. “Yes.” His voice was harsh, barely holding together as he looked up at you in admiration, like he could hardly believe he was so close to the release that he’d been yearning for.

Astarion moved his hands from your hips to your waist, guiding you down as he suppressed a desperate groan, his head tipping back into your pillow, still infused with your intoxicating scent. “My darling…” He purred, calling out to you. “I need you, please…” The words spilt from him with urgency, though his seductive edge persevered. His hands gripped your waist again, uncertain where to grab; only knowing he wanted every part of you. “Pretty please…”

The transformation in him was almost endearing, watching his pride melt in the face of his heat. You couldn’t help but smile, your cheeks warming as he let slip those velvety, magical words.

Reaching down, you let your fingers brush over the base of his cock, feeling the rigid heat of his arousal. You spit into your palm and took his hardened cock to slick him out, stroking him slowly up and down. You weren’t entirely wet yet, and you wanted this moment to be as perfect as possible for him.

At the same time, your other hand slipped lower, cradling his sac and massaging softly in rhythm with each stroke. His sighs came faster, a soft groan escaping him as your fingers trailed along his sensitive skin.

You moved your focus to his swollen, pulsing glans now, slick with precum that had trickled down his length. You continued stroking with both hands now, smoothing the warm fluid mixed with your saliva down his length to make sure he was well lubricated. Finally, positioning yourself, you let the head of his cock rub your clit and your entrance.

Although you were keenly aware of his need and, in a way, his impatience to bury himself inside you, you couldn’t deny that you wanted to draw out this special moment as long as possible.

Finally, you let the head of his cock kiss your entrance, beginning to lower your hips as you felt the delicious stretch of your slit as it let him through and of your interior accommodating him. You felt yourself tighten instinctively around his thick length, your walls gripping him as he slid deeper within.

You closed your eyes, savouring the sensation until you heard him release a strangled moan, his fingers digging into the skin of your hips as if holding you could somehow ease his ache. Reopening your eyes, you saw his flushed cheeks and closed eyelids, and you felt captured by his vulnerability. Your heart pounded against your chest at seeing him so... exposed to you.

Once he was fully seated within you until his tip was pushing against your cervix, you began to rise and fall slowly. Rolling your hips slightly forward and back, you felt the rigidity in his cock and every vein deliciously caressing your walls. His grip tightened as he released sweet, breathy sighs with each massage you gave his cock with your cavity, his eyes fixed on you, utterly enraptured as he felt himself dissolve beneath you.

“Just you…” His voice trembled with a tone you haven't heard from him. “I’ve needed this... needed you... for so long. I tried to resist... gods, I tried... but nothing, nothing else could…” His words trailed off in an involuntary moan as his pelvis lifted instinctively to feel every inch of your insides squeeze his painfully swollen cock.

A satisfied moan escaped your lips as you watched himself giving to pleasure, his expression lost in bliss. Spurred by his urge, you began to move with more eagerness, riding him harder and faster, your pelvis colliding with his in a wild rhythm. Every thrust sent jolts of pleasure through you both as your hips moved in perfect sync.

Bracing your hands on his chest, you leaned down to capture his lips, and he responded with a yearning whimper, returning the kiss with impatience. “I’ve never seen you like this, Astarion.” You murmured against his lips, admiring the flush across his cheeks. “It’s… adorable.”

He let out a soft, breathless laugh, though his voice was thick with longing. “I’m yours, my love…” He confessed in a low tone, holding your gaze with an unusual intensity, his eyes shining. “With you… I can’t help but lose myself…”

His hands slid up to grip your waist, attempting to guide at least your intensity and reclaim a hint of control, but you took his hands in yours. Sliding them over your torso to your breasts, letting him grab them and feel the softness of them. "Love, let me...” He raised his hips once more to penetrate you deeper. His need to bury himself inside you almost agonisingly, each motion making his tip hit your sensitive G-spot and coax gasps from your lips as he struck it with raw precision, just as your cervix.

You threw your head back, a strangled whimper escaping as the blend of pleasure and faint pain sent shocks through your womb.

“Astarion…” You called after recovering your breath just enough to let your lips brush his ear. One hand tangled into his silky hair while the other traced his chest, your fingers skimming over the fabric of his shirt. “Let me… I want to make you feel good, my love…” You whispered, letting your breath ghost over the sensitive skin of his neck, feeling him shiver beneath you because of how responsive he was to your closeness.

Astarion’s throat caught at the sensation of your warm lips on his neck for your sudden smooch, his fingers tightening around your breasts. A sly smile played on his lips, though his usual sharp wit softened because of his heat.

“Oh, my darling…” He rasped with his tone both a plea and a command as his fingers slid down to your hips, anchoring you closer. “You already do make me feel good... so exquisitely good.” His lips found the spot behind your ear to press a kiss against it. Descending to the curve of your jaw, and then lower, tracing a path full of delicate, heated kisses down to your neck.

Then he pulled you, rolling you onto the mattress in a sudden but gentle motion. His body hovered over yours as he took a moment to drink in the sight of you beneath him. “But I think it’s time I return the favour.” His voice dipped into a low growl, his thumb smoothing against your cheek as he cradled it. “Let’s see just how well I can repay you, love...” He whispered before diving to your lips with a ferocity that left no doubt of his intentions.

Every single touch and lingering kiss was a deliberate act of his devotion, focusing entirely on bringing you to the same heights of pleasure he so desperately craved.

Your lips crashed against his with a passion that mirrored his, a burning hunger in every kiss. You tangled your fingers into his silken, white hair to hold him close, refusing to let an inch of space between you. Your other hand gripped the fabric of his shirt in his waist, tugging it firmly, wanting nothing more than to feel his skin against yours.

Before drawing you into his embrace, he positioned his cock at your entrance to enter back inside you, joining his hips firmly against yours with a delicious thrust that made your clit kiss his bare pelvis. A guttural groan escaped his mouth as he responded eagerly to your touch, his hands wrapping around your waist and pulling you close. Each of his movements quickened, his hips surging forward with growing intensity, each thrust driving you both toward a shared frenzy. Impulsively, he broke the kiss to trail his lips along your neck, leaving a searing path of devouring kisses and grazing your skin with his fangs, sending a subtle shiver through you.

“Gods, you're... intoxicating.” He whimpered roughly between kisses. His hands slid to your hips, gripping you rigidly to guide your body in time with his as he fucked you. His lips stayed on your neck, savouring every moan you gave him, lost in the sensation of your bodies moving together with an urgency that none of you could contain.

Astarion’s hand grabbed firmly at your nape, his fingers threading through your hair as he held your head in place against his shoulder. Positioned snugly between your legs, his thighs lifted yours, angling you so that every inch of his cock entered your pussy, leaving no space unfilled.

He bobbed his hips forward with a ferocious, exhausting pace that drove him impossibly deeper into your cunt, his mouth returning in trailing hot kisses all over your skin. His grip on your nape tightened with each surge of his pelvis against yours, anchoring himself in the intensity of it, feeling how your walls massaged and vibrated around his cock. His other hand gripped your waist, drawing you closer to him as if he wanted to merge your bodies completely.

The rhythm had become urgent and desperate, his mouth leaving feverish kisses along your neck and shoulder as his pace grew erratic, driven by the overwhelming, raw desire consuming him. His hand tightened around your waist, pulling you more tightly as his thrusts grew harsher.

The fire in your body was exactly as his, a blazing need that surged with every stroke. Your hand slipped down to your swollen clit, fingers stroking it in synchrony with his pleasurable thrusts. Your actions only seemed to drive him further; a primal growl escaped his lips as his hips snapped forward with a force that stole your respiration.

“Look at you... so eager for more...” Astarion purred, his tone rasping and dripping with lust. His crimson eyes roamed down your body, pausing at the place where your fingers moved against yourself. He observed, entranced, how your fingers stroked your entire clitoris, slick and needy while meeting each of his thrusts. The sight seemed to inflame him, his pupils dilating as he devoured the scene before him. A wicked grin curled on his lips. “You’re utterly delicious... I can hardly resist the urge to devour you whole.”

His voice was thick with desire, and how his crimson eyes darkened further made your heart race. You could see the pure hunger burning within him, igniting an answering fire deep in your lower belly. As you continued to stimulate your clit, the tension grew unbearable, stretched so taut that one more push, one more touch, was all it would take to send you both over the edge.

He dipped his head, his breath hot against your skin. “I need to hear every delicious sound you make, every gasp and moan.” He murmured, the rasp in his voice thickening with each thrust.

As if in response, you moaned louder, the heat pooling between your legs intensifying as you clung to him. The urgency in his movements grew, his thrusts becoming a frantic tempo, pounding into you with a force that sent waves of ecstasy crashing inside your entire pussy. You could feel him nearing his peak, the way his cock hardened impossibly harder inside you, leaving copious amounts of precum between your walls. The quickening pace of his breath and the tightening grip on your hips only made it more evident.

“Please...” You pleaded in a whisper, not fully sure of what you were pleading.

Astarion surged forward, claiming you with a fervour that stole the breath from your lungs. Every thrust felt overwhelming, as though he were trying to mark you as his own, to leave a lasting imprint on your body and soul. Your bodies moved in perfect harmony, a primal dance that sent shockwaves through you both, pushing you closer to the precipice of bliss.

“My love…” He purred, his voice a seductive growl that resonated deep within your pussy. “I want to feel you cum around me...”

As the words sunk in, you felt your walls tighten further around his cock. The intensity of the moment was overwhelming, and the delicious pressure built higher and higher, threatening to spill over.

“Together…” You gasped, feeling the edge draw nearer. “I—” His lips crashed against yours in a fierce kiss, drowning out your words as his tongue rapidly tangled with yours. The world around you faded, leaving only the two of you entwined in this frenzied embrace. And then, as if replying to your unspoken plea, the dam broke.

Your climax hit you like a storm, pulsing through your core and leaving you spent as your arms tightened around him and your hips moved to fuck his cock as well. Astarion let out a shuddering moan that broke the kiss, his grip almost bruising you as he reached his own release, his body trembling and spasming as yours with the intensity of it. You felt his warm cum exploding inside you, each release sending a delicious sensation up your womb and cervix, prolonging the endless pleasure crashing through you. His hands held you against him as you both rode out ecstasy, lost in the shared, heady sensation of being completely intertwined as he kept buried inside you.

You clung to him, surrendering to the exquisite moment, feeling utterly consumed by the heat and the connection that bound you together. The aftermath left you gasping for air with your heart racing, both of you lost in the afterglow of passion.

As the lingering waves of your climax subsided after a while in each other's arms, you gazed at Astarion, a playful smile tugging at your lips. His tousled hair fell charmingly over his forehead, and a layer of sweat glistened on his skin, making him look beautiful and irresistibly enchanting.

“You know…” You started softly with a glimmer in your eyes, “You look absolutely adorable like this, all consumed by your heat.” Your heart fluttered as you watched his brows knit together in playful disbelief.

“Adorable?” One of his eyebrows went up. “I assure you, my dear, that’s the last thing on my mind right now.”

“Oh, come on!” You replied, laughter bubbling up like the sweetest melody for his ears. “Just look at you! You’ve never looked more charming—practically irresistible!”

He warmly chuckled, a rich sound that filled the air with joy. “Irresistible? My dear, I was merely indulging in what is quite natural for me. Thank you.”

You feigned a dramatic gasp, placing a hand over your heart in mock shock. “Darling! Just admit it! What an honour it is to see you in such a cute light! Who knew a fierce vampire could also be a cuddly little beast?”

Astarion rolled his eyes, but the smile that tugged at his lips was an undeniable admission of his enjoyment. “Cuddly? Now you’re pushing it, sweetie.”

“Maybe.” You said, leaning closer to him as your eyes sparkled while you batted your eyelashes playfully. “But honestly, there was something so sweet about you right now. You were so lost in the moment, like watching a passionate artist at work.”

He leaned back slightly, crossing his arms with an exaggerated huff, his attempt to maintain composure failing delightfully. “I suppose I must allow you this little delusion, but do not mistake my passion for cuteness.”

“Whatever you say, my fierce little vampire.” You joked, inching even closer. “But I stand by my word. You’re absolutely adorable.”

With a soft, fluttering laugh, you reached up to plant a gentle kiss on his lips. The moment felt electric, charged with love and affection. Astarion’s lips curled against yours before reciprocating your kiss, and for a fleeting second, the heat of passion intertwined with the sweetness of the moment, turning the surrounding air into something truly magical.

As you pulled back, you found him looking at you, a soft smile gracing his features that melted your heart. “You’re insufferable, you know that?” He murmured in a playful voice mixed with exasperation and fondness.

“Only for you.” You replied, a mischievous grin spreading across your face. “And I think you love it. A reason more to the list for being with me!”

��Don’t say it too loud.” He replied, the playful glint in his eyes betraying his bravado.

You laughed, his presence enveloping you as you revelled in the playful banter, your hearts intertwining in the sweetest ways. At that moment, every worry faded, leaving only the bliss of shared affection, laughter, and the delightful intimacy of you two.

‎

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[literatureloverx]

BSD MEN x their first time meeting their darlings

Characters: Fyodor Dostoevsky, Dazai Osamu, Nakahara Chuuya, Nikolai Gogol, Akutagawa Ryuunosuke

BSD MEN x fem!reader

Fyodor Dostoevsky

You and Fyodor met at the museum.

He noticed you from a distance, intrigued by your beauty as you stood before a painting for longer than most would.

Drawn by an irresistible curiosity, he approached you to hear your thoughts on the artwork.

To him, you resembled a beautiful doll, exquisite and delicate, with a mind that radiated compassion toward his complex moral code and a heart that was both truthful and sincere.

Your gentle smile captivated him, sparking an interest that went beyond mere admiration; it stirred something deeper within him.

The full scenario is HERE

Dazai Osamu

You met Dazai either in his Port Mafia or in his Armed Detective Agency era. I will go with the second option, because PM!Dazai is more complicated.

Dazai encountered you on the beach at dawn.

It had been another sleepless night for him, and he was wandering aimlessly, as he often did after consuming alcohol without a care for the consequences.

The cool sea breeze tousled his hair, and the rhythmic sound of the waves crashing against the shore provided a stark contrast to the chaos in his mind.

Thinking the fresh air would help ease his slight headache, he walked at a slow pace, allowing the serenity of the beach to wash over him.

Scenario

As he wandered, he spotted a bench facing the beautiful water, where the dawn reflected brilliantly like molten gold. Without a moment's hesitation, he settled onto the bench, feeling the rough wood beneath him as he gazed at the horizon.

The sun began to rise, casting warm hues of orange and pink across the sky, but even that beauty couldn't quite pull him from the fog of his thoughts.

He yawned, a weary reminder of yet another night spent in restless contemplation, unable to escape the burdens that always seemed to find him.

A few moments later, someone sat beside him on the other side of the bench. His eyes widened in surprise as he turned to see you, a soft smile gracing your lips, almost apologetically.

The way the morning light played with your features was mesmerising, and for a fleeting moment, Dazai forgot the weight of his troubles.

Your gentle, melodic voice cut through the sound of the waves and reached his ears, wrapping around him like a warm embrace. "I hope it's okay for me to sit here? I also came to watch the sunrise."

The sunrise cascaded across your angelic smile, illuminating your hair as if each strand were made of stardust.

Dazai felt an unfamiliar flutter in his chest, a sensation he hadn't expected. He studied you, taking in the delicate way your eyes sparkled with the early light, and the calmness that radiated from your presence.

It was as if you were a breath of fresh air amidst the heaviness that often surrounded him.

"Of course," he replied, a hint of a smile breaking through his usually stoic demeanor. "I can't say I mind the company of such a beautiful young lady, especially at a moment like this."

You smiled, but didn’t answer.

As you both sat in silence, watching the sun rise higher into the sky, Dazai's mind raced.

The tranquility of the moment was refreshing, and he felt drawn to you in a way that was both thrilling and unsettling.

He was self-aware enough to know that this was no simple attraction he was feeling; it was something deeper, something he didn't quite know how to handle.

Nakahara Chuuya

Chuuya likely knows you either from his childhood—perhaps through the sheep—or your family has loose ties to the Port Mafia, and you happen to cross paths by chance.

I prefer the second option because it excites me more and is easier to write. (I’m really excited about this and want to write a full story with various chapters, but unfortunately, I have too many requests to finish right now.)

You know those Wattpad stories where the main character's dad has ties to the mafia, deeply indebted?

One day, the handsome mafia boss appears out of nowhere, demanding the money back—or worse, the daughter of the man. Well, this is not how Chuuya operates. He is a gentleman, after all.

Due to certain circumstances, instead of Akutagawa, Chuuya—the mafia executive himself—takes on the mission to collect the debt.

The jewelry mart of the mafia is under his care, and he decides to handle the matter personally this time.

It's a rare move for him, but something about the situation tugs at his instincts.

He circles your house, a sleek black car parked discreetly down the street, as he assesses the scene with a discerning eye.

The neighborhood is quiet, almost too quiet, and he can't shake the feeling that something is off.

The thought of confronting someone who owes the mafia money doesn't faze him, but he feels a sense of responsibility creeping in.

He pushes the thought aside; his focus is on the task at hand.

Storming in with a show of force, Chuuya enters your home, flanked by eight other men meant to intimidate.

But everyone knows that Nakahara Chuuya is a one-man army.

Scenario

The tension in the air is palpable as he strides toward your father, who stands pale and trembling.

Without hesitation, he forcefully pushes your father to the pavement, making him bite the concrete.

"You've made a grave mistake," Chuuya growls, the weight of authority lacing his words.

Your father stammers, trying to explain himself, but the panic in his eyes only fuels Chuuya's anger.

As Chuuya raises his gun, ready to make an example of your father, a pleading voice interrupts him.

You, a young woman, are being held back as you desperately try to reach your father.

"Please, don't!" you cry, your voice breaking.

Your teary eyes strike right through his heart, leaving him momentarily dumbfounded. Here's someone ready to sacrifice herself for her family.

You.

In that instant, he feels something shift within him—a stirring he hasn't experienced before. He doesn't understand what is happening; he can swear he's never felt this way before, and it unnerves him.

"Who are you?" he asks, trying to mask his confusion behind a façade of coldness.

"I'm his daughter! Please let him go! Take me! Take me instead!"

Your words are infused with desperation and bravery, resonating deep within him.

Everything else—the chaos, the noise—fades into silence. He is entirely focused on you, captivated by your beauty and your courage.

Chuuya can't help but admire your spirit. You're not begging for mercy out of fear; you're standing tall in the face of danger, ready to take your father's place. It strikes him as both foolish and incredibly brave. The dichotomy fascinates him.

As he lowers his gun, the gravity of the situation begins to weigh on him. He looks at your father, then back to you, and realizes he doesn't want to be the monster in this story. Not before your eyes, at least. Not now.

"Enough," he says, his voice steady but softer than before.

He knows he doesn’t need to be doing this. He can take the debt in more than one way. He has many options, but he chose this one because it was the quickest. However…things changed.

Without a second thought, he lowers his weapon and releases your father, taking a step back. The shock in your father's eyes mirrors the confusion swirling in Chuuya's mind, but he knows he's made the right choice.

As you rush to your father's side, Chuuya feels an unfamiliar warmth spreading through him. You’re so…mesmerising.

The way you move, the way you talk, the way you cry…he could stand there and watch you for hours, maybe even days. In fact, he felt like he could watch you for all eternity.

He tries to shake this weird feeling off.

"Consider this your lucky day," he adds, turning on his heel, his heart pounding in his chest. "But next time, you won't be so fortunate."

Nikolai Gogol

He either encountered you during a mission, where you were merely an unusual target that intrigued him, or he met you before he joined the Decay of the Angels.

For the narrative, I would lean towards the idea that "he met you on a mission where you were an odd prey."

For Nikolai to become interested in someone (be it romantically or platonically), he would need to sense a connection between the intricacies of his mind and your understanding of this complex moral system.

You were likely an unassuming office worker, perhaps even a part-timer, blissfully unaware of the corruption that plagued your workplace and why it could become a target for a terror attack.

How naive of you.

When he sees your innocent, almost silly face, he would smile, a glint of mischief in his eyes as he prepares to do something whimsical.

Scenario

Nikolai approached you, flashing his trademark grin—one that held a hint of danger mixed with playful charm.

"QUIZ TIIIME!!! Guess what I'm about to do to youuuu, little dove?!—“

He moves forward, his nose almost touching your cheek. His theatrical chuckle echoes through the halls left behind.

The floors are covered with blood and shards of glass, and you’re the only one remaining alive—together with this madman.

“—Yes indeedy! I'll make you feel free like a true bird! Free from everything! I’ll free you from the cage of your emotions, so that you can live as a credit to our race, a truly free homo sapiens!!"

His voice danced with mischief as he leaned against the doorframe, tugging slightly at the ropes bound around your wrists.

"P-please..." you stammered, the tremor in your voice betraying your anxiety. He ignores your quiet plea.

"Do you happen to like birds, little dove?" he asked, tilting his head slightly. Your startled expression was delightful to him.

You nod, and he follows up with, "Why is that?"

You have no idea what this strange clown wants from you. The only thing you want now is to flee—to run away, to go home, to survive. You’re not sure how you’re going to reach that goal, but you’re willing to do anything.

That’s why you start making up excuses to occupy him with your chatter for as long as possible. You’re hoping to get rescued… or at least to receive his mercy.

"Some birds are free in that sense, while others are made to remain in their cages…"

Nikolai leaned closer, intrigued by your perspective, his whole presence threatening every fibre of your being.

"So you believe that some birds are meant to be clipped, little dove?"

"N-no," you replied, trying to steady your voice despite the flutter of panic in your chest. "They are meant to be free. But even if the bird is free to go wherever it wishes, freedom is nothing but an illusion.—“

You were scared, and you didn’t know if what you were doing was the right thing to do in this situation. Your voice trembled.

“—Because even if the bird is freed from its cage, it won’t be truly free to go wherever it wishes. The laws of nature still apply—it can’t abandon its flock.”

Your heart raced, and you felt exposed, as if you were revealing too much of your own fear. His unnerving heterochromic eyes scare you, you're trying to make something up, to avoid his gaze.

"—A bird that has never known freedom won't long for it; it is simply content with its cage and the comfortable life it provides—“

You aren’t sure if this is working, but he isn’t hurting you, and he’s certainly listening. You gasp as he tugs at the ropes again, speaking in his usual whimsical manner.

“Can you think of any reason why a bird born in a cage would crave freedom? A reason for the bird to detest its own—“

He giggles.

“…’comfortable’ cage?”

“I…I don’t see a reason for that to happen…unless that comfort turns into terror—"

His façade seems to crumble for a moment. Your voice wavers, the weight of his gaze amplifying your anxiety.

"—unless the bird has been abused in its very cage, sir..."

He stepped back, contemplating your words. The thought was foreign, yet it resonated with an undeniable truth.

Too real.

It felt way too real for him.

"You're quite insightful for someone so naive.”

"Please... just let me go," you whispered, your heart pounding.

He giggles again. It’s just one of the many unnerving qualities he possesses, as you recognize.

"I can't do that," he said softly, his tone shifting. "But I can promise you this—your voice matters to me now, little dove."

"After all," he added, his grin returning with a hint of mischief, "what fun would it be to let you go without revealing some of my tricks first? Riiiight??!!"

Akutagawa Ryuunosuke

He either met you during a pivotal, life-altering event, like when he was gravely wounded (edgy and intimate), or in a more everyday setting, like a grocery store or shopping mall (wholesome and adorable). I’ll go with the second option, just as you’ve chosen.

He coughs as he takes the shopping bags into his hand, nothing more than some snacks placed inside.

He feels particularly weak today, and he knows it’s best if he returns to a safe space.

It’s time to go home.

As he walks, his thoughts swirl with a familiar frustration.

Weakness gnaws at him, contradicting everything he knows he needs to know—survival of the fittest, strength above all.

He can’t even enjoy something as simple as crisps without feeling the sting of inadequacy, a reminder that he constantly strives to prove himself strong despite the frailty he sometimes feels.

However, a certain someone might change this mindset of his at some point. It’s you.

Scenario

“Excuse me!”

The soft voice cuts through his thoughts, and he turns around, annoyance bubbling to the surface.

He dislikes attention, especially in public spaces. It serves no purpose, and as a mafioso, he values his ability to blend in, to move through the world unnoticed. Drawing any kind of attention to himself, especially when he feels vulnerable, is the last thing he wants.

He scans the area, irritation rising when he realizes there’s no one in sight. His first thought is that he’s hallucinating—another sign that he needs to retreat to his quarters before the nausea overwhelms him.

But then, out of nowhere, you appear. Right in front of him.

His eyes widen slightly, just enough to betray his surprise.

His shock is mild but undeniable as he takes in the sight of you, someone warm and inviting, standing confidently before him. What could someone like you possibly want from him?

Akutagawa’s gaze flickers over you, searching for a reason, a threat, something to explain why you’re in his path. The unfamiliarity of the encounter makes him uncomfortable, and his guard instinctively rises.

“You dropped this…”

Your voice, kind and genuine, takes him off guard for the second time. Two moments of confusion in a single encounter—he’s already feeling off balance.

It would be a sight to behold had you known who he truly was—one of Yokohama’s most feared mafiosos.

You’re holding out his handkerchief. The one he uses to cough into.

His gaze shifts to the cloth in your hand, then back to your face. The urge to dismiss you rises quickly, but as he looks away, something unexpected happens.

Your eyes meet his. His cold, grey stare, which normally repels others or leaves them frozen, meets your gaze, and for a brief moment, something inside him stirs. The sensation is strange—something between discomfort and intrigue—as if, for just a second, he sees you differently. Not just as a stranger, but as something… more.

He’s not used to this. The feeling tingles at the edges of his awareness, unsettling and foreign, making him question what it is about you that sparked this unfamiliar warmth in his chest. In that instant, he feels the weight of his ideals—the relentless pursuit of strength and dominance—shift slightly, as though something in him yearns for connection despite the ferocity with which he clings to his principles.

Akutagawa hesitates, caught off guard by the genuine kindness radiating from you. He can feel the knot in his chest tightening as he grapples with the implications of your presence.

He clears his throat, attempting to regain his composure. “… Thanks,” he mutters, his voice low and rough, barely above a whisper.

The handkerchief hangs awkwardly between you, and he feels a surge of irritation at the vulnerability it represents.

You smile at his gratitude, and he can’t help but find the expression both refreshing and irritating.

“You didn’t have to bother. It’s nothing important.”

You tilt your head to the side. What could he mean? Nothing important as in ‘just a handkerchief’? It looked expensive. It definitely didn’t look like something you’d throw away after using it once.

“I wanted to,” you reply, your tone light and genuine. “I couldn’t just leave it there.”

He narrows his eyes, instinctively defensive. “Most people wouldn’t bother,” he retorts, his annoyance flaring up.

Oh, he wasn’t trying to blend in at all. He was being impolite.“They don’t care about things that don’t concern them.”

Your gaze wavers slightly, making him feel uncomfortable, which catches him off guard.

“But I do care. Sometimes, it’s the little things that matter.”

He scoffs, an edge to his voice. He mumbles, ready to leave any moment. “Little things? They mean nothing.”

You either survive or you don’t.—Is what he told himself. He recognised that he stepped out of the line. The nausea surely wasn’t helping him.

“Maybe,” you say, unfazed, “but that doesn’t mean we have to give in to that. We can choose to be different.”

Akutagawa’s chest tightens at your words. What were you yapping about? Like that stupid weretiger. He shifts his weight, irritation bubbling beneath the surface.

“You think you can change anything?” he asks, skepticism lacing his tone. He wants to leave. Your presence is making him feel uncomfortable.

“I believe we can,” you answer, your conviction steady. “Even if it’s just for one person at a time.”

His heart races, battling against his instinct to retreat into his shell. He studies you, trying to dissect your motivations, to find the weakness in your resolve.

“And you think you’re that person?” he challenges, his eyes cold.

“Why not?” you reply, meeting his gaze head-on. “If you’re open to it.”

His cheeks flush slightly. He feels an unexpected pull toward you, and he knows that he needs to leave. Now.

[knownoshamc]

how I think want 70s-80s Devil's Minion is going to be (unpopular?). An essay, by me. (edit: apparently I do have to make it clear that these are all my own headcanons and I'm aware that they are not a healthy couple)

The "chase" lasts a couple of months instead of years

they start as the popular fucked up sex

Armand takes Daniel on a hunt, to show him how he plays with his food sometimes, how look I could be doing the same to you. But Daniel very loudly thinks fuck that's hot

Daniel starts picking up on how Armand behaves during sex (even how dissociates sometimes), since most of the time it's when and how Daniel wants (the normal thing for Armand). He starts checking on him more, like you sure, we can do something else // are you comfortable with that? // are you okay? it's just sex for them, sure, but there is this change.

but... they also start dating. once, for fun, they are curious. more dating. Dates are Armand using his mind gift so they have the restaurant by themselves. Taking Daniel to the top of a building so he can have the best view. Museums, galleries, movies...

And Armand brings him flowers, chocolates and poetry and Daniel playfully rolls his eyes and then giggles and kisses him and he even keeps the now dried flowers. Daniel returns the favour, and Armand looks at him as if he brought him the most exquisite and most expensive gift in the world.

Daniel makes Armand laugh for the first time (Armand smiles, smirks even grins, but he doesn't easily laugh) and Daniel realizes he is in love with him. He loves how Armand can be ruthless, cruel, cold with the humans he hunts before giving them an easeful death. He loves how excited with simple things like a phone, a microwave, a blender. How he lets his mask slip sometimes (more and more as time passes) and he sees the real him, the vulnerable side he rarely shows, the anger towards the world he thinks he doesn't deserve to feel.

Armand realises he is in love with Daniel earlier, in little moments, like how human Daniel is and how for the first time in centuries that is fascinating and not indifferent. And he loves Daniel because of how excited he is when he writes something or when he wants to read to Armand an interesting book/article/something he wrote, how clever he is, how he can be cold and compassionate at the same time...

And they talk about little and big things, from a good restaurant that Armand saw pass from generation to generation, to philosophy. And Armand reads Daniel's mind to see if his mind wanders and... Daniel is fully invested. Like I love getting to know you, how you think, what you think, who you are, tell me all about you. And Armand does. He tells Daniel the most.

they are in love and explore the world together and all its fascination and simplicity, and they are really happy.

but... Daniel doesn't want this to end, he wants to stay young forever, he wants to spend forever with Armand. How can't Armand see that this is not just because Daniel wants to be with him for eternity?

Armand sees how his own darkness but lure Daniel in... a bit too much. How he thinks that watching someone die and getting a life is the same thing, how he romanticises vampirism. How maybe he focuses on Armand a lot, and misses a deadline at work. A work that he loves. Maybe one day he catches a fleeting thought of Daniel wanting children someday. But he doesn't bring it up right away. He doesn't want to lose him. And he just can't understand how Daniel can love him unconditionally.

Then Daniel proposes to him in Paris. He has a ring and a romantic little speech to go along with it. But does it really mean he loves him? Or that he wants for Armand to make him a vampire? Isn't that what marriage is, after all, a promise of forever? How can Daniel just love him? So he says no.

Daniel is hurt, he is angry that Armand doesn't really trust his love and he tells him that yeah maybe he does want kids, a family, normality. And maybe a part of him does. They break up.

Daniel meets a girl, Alice. He doesn't fall in love, she doesn't really fall in love either, but they like each other. They get together. She gets pregnant.

Daniel needs Armand's blood (he needs Armand) but he can't have that, so he turns to his old comfort, drugs. It gets bad, he goes back to Armand, asking to get back together, asking for his blood, Armand says no and Daniel storms off to get his high somewhere else. He comes back a couple of days later, apologising and promising he won't ever do it again, he will really get clean this time. Again. And again. Until he comes very close to overdosing, and Armand takes care of him until he can actually go to a rehab facility, even though Daniel just begs him for his blood, to just turn him or let him die.

And this time, he knows what to do. Daniel can't have his normal life if Armand is still in his mind. So he just... erases it all. It's the only way. He couldn't see another way. And Daniel understands what Armand intends to do and he is crying, asking him not to do it, that he can get over this on his own, but Armand doesn't trust him, so he just tries to calm him down, telling him how great his life is going to be, with a brilliant career, a family... happiness. An easeful breakup.

thank you for coming to my ted talk

[syoddeye]

when he tires of your moping and brooding, vampire!price lets you go for some years. 

he watches you tear your way across another country, another age, bitter and angry. he used to worry, those first few ventures, that you’d pursue some silly notion of a cure or seek out your demise. that you’d waste your holiday and all his hard work. but, ever the paragon of patience, a being hardened by time and a devout observer of your habits—he knows you’re a coward. a spineless fledgling who can only dawdle for so long before you look for a hand to hold. despite his bite and all its benefits, it’s the one gift he never intends to bestow and a weakness he’ll never fortify.

historically, your separations end one of two ways.

the first and the more frequent outcome, begins with his rediscovery of an artifact or heirloom from your mortal life. (one of many he collected in those early days, before you knew the undead existed. before you knew he existed.) overcome with nostalgia, he tracks you down. you are never thorough enough to cover your tracks entirely or break your patterns. no matter where you go, he sniffs you out. communes. boarding houses. barracks. once, a convent.

he plucks you from your pitiful attempts at penance or enlightenment, drags you out by the collar, and forces your mouth to the nearest, weakest neck. rubs your nose in it like one would a dog. you put up a fuss and fight, but you drink. it’s instinct. stronger when closer to him. it goes down easier with his voice in your ear, anyway.

the second, rare and exquisite, are the times you crawl back to him. out from a dark pit of despair, caked in the soot and the shit of your own stirring. wounded, aching, and hungry. nothing tastes right without him. not enough necks in any part of the world to slake your thirst. can hardly savor a drop without him beside you to share. to hold your chin and wipe your lips.

so, after another world-ending argument, when you pack a bag and slaughter your human retainers, he simply lights a cigar and listens to the same grand overtures. you stamp your feet on the oushak, declare you won’t return, no matter what, and glare as he thumbs through a rolodex of names and faces. you don’t want an eternity of security and devotion? fine. hundreds more where you came from. 

(of course, your would-be replacements are pale imitations. dolls he dresses, trains, and plays with. breaks. things to pass the time with.)

months later, price jolts awake in the early dawn. he’s only just closed his eyes when he feels it, a vibration traveling down the web to knock him out of slumber. the last gasps of his dinner still wet his beard and stain his tongue, yet they sour with realization. turn his stomach. he knows at once that you, his creation, have found what you believe to be a safe harbor. and it is not some podunk village or bustling metropolis—it isn’t a place at all. but it’s not like your other fleeting romances or trysts. no. you’ve found someone bigger and meaner to sidle up next to. someone whose pedigree he doesn’t recognize.

the sum of his terrible lineage stirs. an antediluvian possession raises his hackles.

oh darl, just whom have you invited in?

[chwocolatte]

♪ 𝓫𝓮𝓪𝓾𝓽𝓲𝓯𝓾𝓵 𝓫𝓸𝔂 𝄞♭♪ . .

yūta okkotsu x reader ﾉ sfw — domestic fluff ﾉ features a sweet doting reader . . (⸝⸝o̴̶̷᷄ ·̭ o̴̶̷̥᷅⸝⸝) ﾉ reader is admiring yūta’s handsum self ( a hundie percent warranted hehe ) ﾉ lottsa lottsa smoochies between reader ‘n yūta . . ﾉ ‘princess’ used as a petname tew refer tew reader ﾉ vrrie yumeshippie coded ‘n self indulgent . .

ohhhh . . . nu words cld ﾉ possibly ﾉ b adequate enough tew describe da sheer gorgeousness of yūta . . i did try m’ vrrie best but .ᐟ .ᐟ he is simply tew beautiful fwor mi tew paint wif jus words alone . . (⸝⸝⸝ᵒ̴̶̷̥́ ⌑ ᵒ̴̶̷̣̥̀⸝⸝⸝) doesnt he shine sho pwettily ⭐️ .ᐣ

twinkling like a thousand stars, your eyes shine with a brilliance that could rival the cosmos, the universe itself. you are captivated within his gaze, the pools of cerulean that peer into your own. they hold abundant affection, the adoration evident in the way he regards you, the ardour a tangible thing.

gazing upon his visage, it's easy to lose yourself in the ethereal beauty that is his features. they are sharp, chiselled to perfection, a masterpiece of the gods, an effigy carved from marble. how could anyone compare?

yuuta may be considered average to some, but to you, he is a paragon of celestial splendor. he's the epitome of beauty, the pinnacle of perfection. a small pinch of his essence could send the most stoic of individuals into a frenzy, their minds clouded with the fervour that is him.

to put it simply, the young man is an angel in your eyes. an angel in every sense of the word. the term 'beautiful' fails to encapsulate the full extent of his splendor, the magnitude of his radiance and the depth of his ethereality. but it's all you have to describe him, and so you use it anyway, the adjective a pitiful attempt at expressing the immensity of your devotion.

“beautiful…”

the whisper leaves your lips in a reverent breath, and the sound of it causes the young man to flush a lovely shade of red, the tinge rivalling the vermillion hue of a rose. a shy smile plays at the corners of his mouth, and his teeth are a flash of pearly white as he laughs bashfully. the sound is melodious, a symphony of harmonies that reverberates throughout the room, the tune a cacophony of bells and chimes.

the flush reaches the tips of his ears, and the colour bleeds down the column of his neck, the sight reminiscent of a summer sunset. you can't help but reach out, the desire to stroke his flesh an undeniable pull. and so you do. your digits graze the planes of his visage, the contact feather light and delicate, a whisper against his skin. a lean in to your touch, a pause, a deep breath, and then…

he sighs contentedly, his eyes fluttering shut, the lids a curtain that shrouds his irises— twin windows to his soul. he leans further into your palm now, his profile nuzzling your hand, the gesture tender, loving. a silent plea for more.

and who are you to deny him?

mapping out the contours of his face, you commit each feature to memory, snapshots of him immortalised in your mind.

soft like a dream, his complexion is smooth beneath your fingertips, the texture akin to satin, the skin a silken sheet. his lashes are dark and full, a lush canopy of sable strands that fan out prettily, a feathered brushstrokes against his cheeks. they tickle you— oh, but not as much as the faint cupid’s bow that swiftly steals a kiss from your fingers does, a chaste peck that has you giggling like a fool. the sensation is fleeting, yet the effect lingers, leaving the pair of you smiling fondly.

it's a moment so intimate, the pair of you cocooned within a bubble of your own making, the rest of the world fading into obscurity that a part of you wishes to preserve it. to freeze time, to capture this precious fragment of life and etch it into your soul.

simple, yet exquisite, memories such as these are worth their weight in gold. they're treasures, and you want nothing more than to hoard them, to stow them away in the recesses of your mind, a gallery of cherished remembrances.

with a gentleness that speaks volumes of your feelings, your fingers dance until they meet their destination, the pad of your thumb brushing against his plump lower lip.

the flesh is velvety and inviting, and you can't resist the temptation. you give in, and, with a slight nudge, part his lips, your thumb slipping into the crevice, a small breach, before standing on your tippy toes, feet rising to meet him.

the miniscule space between the pair of you closes, and your breaths mingle, the air shared between your bodies, the heat radiating off of his person and seeping into your own. your nose is a hairsbreadth away from his own, the distance almost non-existent. and, in a moment so quiet and fragile, the tension so palpable it could be slit with a knife, you share a breath.

one, two, three… the beats pass in a pregnant pause. then, with a swiftness that belies his previous timidity, yuuta swoops down, taking your mouth into his.

confectionery sweet and sugar coated, the kiss is a concoction of love and longing, a decadent delicacy you can't seem to get enough of. the taste of him is a nectarine bliss, the sensation a pleasure akin to none. so special, so unique, you doubt there could be anything in this world that could compare.

you indulge yourself, drinking your fill, savouring the flavour of your loved one, the ambrosial treat a luxury. it's a sweet surrender, the submission a mutual one, gooey strings of honeyed saliva connecting the pair of you when you pull away, your bodies clearly unwilling to part.

however, the need for air wins out, and you reluctantly withdraw, the loss keenly felt. a whine, high pitched and petulant, escapes your throat— a child's tantrum, albeit an admittedly justified one.

the separation is a temporary one, though, and you're quickly pacified when peppered across your face are a barrage of kisses, the sticky film of his saliva sweeping over your skin as if to paint a picture. his mouth is an artist's brush, the tip dexterous as it dabs a mélange of imaginary pigments upon your features.

the final kiss lands squarely on your nose, a dot. the finishing touch makes the button twitch, the appendage quivering with a tingle, and the sound that leaves you is an amalgamate of laughter and giggles.

the pair of you are a mess, your visages smeared with the evidence of your affections. and, by the heavens, do you love it. the attestation of his infatuation is a badge of honour, the smudgy slaver a token of his regard. you don't dare to wipe it away. rather, you wear it with pride.

who could blame you? surely not him, judging by the grin he sends your way.

so dazzling, the beam is blinding, the brightness of it akin to that of the sun itself. it's a sight you would die a thousand times to behold.

"you really are the most beautiful boy, yuu.." the compliment tumbles from your mouth unbidden, truthful and raw. your words are nothing but an echo of your thoughts, an unconscious murmur of the musings that occupy your headspace.

"not as beautiful as you are, princess.. not even close." his response is immediate, spoken with that simper of his, the curl of his lips so pretty and soft.

in preparation for a protest, your mouth opens, the objection ready on the tip of your tongue, but a single finger to your lips is all it takes to silence you. a pout forms at the contact, the expression a puerile pucker.

"let me love you." the plea is a soft thing. "let me love you like you deserve. let me love you.. like you love me." yuuta repeats, a quiet request. his tone is a beseeching, the desperation written clear as day across his countenance. it's an entreaty that melts the last dregs of resistance left in you.

so, with a nod, you acquiesce.

you hear a suspire of relief, and then you're swept into the arms of a boy so in love, he's willing to do anything to show you just how much. and as you're carried off into the depths of his heart, the place that's reserved only for you, a singular thought occurs: perhaps, just this once, you'll allow him the win.

for a boy as wonderful as him, there's no harm in giving him the upper hand, is there?

[theinnerunderrain]

Turmoil at Sea [Yan!Merman x Fem!Reader]

Warnings/tags: Yandere themes, description of violence, I saw a video of orcas hunting and wanted to write something abt it, disturbing content.

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"Marlin."

With a shaky voice, you called out to the merman lurking beneath the dark depths of the water. Your eyes danced wildly along the watery surface, desperately seeking a glimpse of him.

"Please come out. You're scaring me."

On hands and knees, you clung to the meager wooden surface that barely qualified as a makeshift raft, the sole lifeline between you and the vast expanse of the ocean. The survival itself was a stroke of fortune, remnants of a shipwreck etching haunting memories – cannon balls piercing through ship walls, the frantic cries of the crew in a desperate quest for safety.

"Marlin!"

You attempt once more, your voice rising in volume and gaining a sharper edge. Splashes of water collide with the raft, showering your bare ankles. The once elegant gown, worn for your birthday celebration, now serves as your sole source of warmth. Your left thigh is wrapped in makeshift bandages fashioned from scattered scarves found amidst the vast sea. Slowly edging toward the raft's edge, you strained to peer through the dense water veil, only to be met with an impenetrable darkness that revealed nothing but a faint reflection of yourself. With eyes reddened, pallid skin, and hair beginning to knot after enduring two weeks adrift at sea, your physical state mirrored the harshness of your oceanic ordeal. The scent that clung to you was a noxious blend of fish and seaweed, the very sustenance provided by the merman. Surprisingly, you marveled at your resilience, having somehow endured the consumption of raw, uncooked meat without succumbing to its potentially fatal consequences.

Abruptly, a hand emerged from beneath the water, prompting you to swiftly retreat to the safety of the raft's center. The owner of the hand revealed himself to be none other than the merman, Merlin, whose expression conveyed clear disdain. His hand extended, torso flat against the raft's surface, and intense ocean eyes locked onto you.

"..M..Marlin."

He remains unresponsive to the sound of your name, his long blue tails faintly visible as they linger within the water. After a moment of uninterrupted gaze, he finally speaks, his voice flowing like a smooth seam of silk, captivating in its beauty. The sunlight above did little to forsake his beauty; instead, it gracefully highlighted his features, casting an enchanting aura that rendered him majestic, akin to a water nymph.

"Do you truly despise me that much?"

"What..?"

A bitter laugh escapes him as he withdraws his hand, crossing his elbow to rest his chin against his forearm. His dark hair cascades down, lightly sticking to his chin, a subtle dampness lingering. One can't help but marvel at how a being like him manages to thrive in the frigid waters, contemplating the preservation of his skin and hair—unchanged and undamaged, a testament to their enduring beauty.

"You've proven yourself quite clever, manipulating me into scavenging for food. Quite the strategist, aren't you?"

"I do not understand.."

Your brows furrow slightly at his words, perplexed by the notion that you might be using him to scavenge for food. After all, it was he who volunteered to assist you, the one who rescued you from the wreckage and gently placed your body onto the raft. During the night of the celebration, you discerned his presence beneath the water, catching a fleeting glimpse of his exquisite tail. Despite your observation, your crewmates dismissed him as a mere swordfish or dolphin, oblivious to the captivating mystery that lingered beneath the waves.

"You're exploiting me for your survival, only to abandon me once other humans come to your rescue, aren't you?"

"Certainly not! Once I set foot on solid ground, I am determined to find every possible way to express my gratitude for your kindness."

He scoffed at your words, finding your naivety simultaneously endearing and tinged with folly. Your captivating gaze drew him in, becoming the sole reason Marlin chose to rescue you amidst the entire ordeal. Although not inherently fond of humans, he found solace in the radiant brightness and warmth emanating from your eyes—a quality seldom witnessed through the eyes of pirates or the sailors he had encountered along his journey.

"Do you genuinely think fellow humans would permit such a scenario? If anything, they'll likely exploit that pretext as justification to pursue and hunt me down."

You dismiss his words with a subtle shake of your head, lips forming a tight line as you attempt to speak over him, any method to reason with him.

""Don't worry. I'll reassure them that you pose no threat. I can even persuade my father to consider implementing legislation concerning the pursuit of seamen!"

"My dearest human, it's not as straightforward as it may seem. Even if your father possessed the authority to enforce such a rule, do you believe those who exploit my kind for gain would genuinely adhere to it?"

"B..but it truly is!"

"It is not."

""Marlin, if you assist me in finding my way home, I am prepared to fulfill any wish or desire you may have forsaken. I give you my word—I am willing to do anything."

Marlin fixed his gaze upon you, his laughter crackling as if your words were nothing more than a comedic jest. Your face flushed with embarrassment, the dignity befitting a lady tarnished and mocked amidst the vastness of the ocean. After a few moments, Marlin succeeded in stifling his laughter, pressing his head onto the wooden surface of the raft. He pushed himself up, grinning at you once more.

"Given your persistent stance and reluctance to reconsider, it appears you are determined to return to your modest homeland."

He inhales deeply, then eases himself off the raft, submerging more than half of his body in the sea. His head emerges as the sole visible part, and his long, dark hair ripples in the water, reminiscent of the seaweed depicted in the textbooks you frequently borrowed from the library.

"Well. You leave me with no other choice."

He gracefully plunges back into the water, his form seamlessly vanishing into the azure depths. Your fist tightens as you attempt to fathom his intent, but before clarity settles, he emerges near you. His tail propels a considerable amount of water, conjuring a substantial wave that gracefully cascades onto the raft, drenching everything. A surprised yelp escapes you as the water meets your palm, and you swiftly realize you're gradually sliding toward the edge.

You successfully maintain composure for most of the ordeal, believing his juvenile outburst had concluded. However, your apprehensions materialize as you witness him rapidly approaching, his tail propelling him through the water with increased speed. The waves generated this time are more substantial, causing the raft to sway significantly. As the waves hit and water infiltrates beneath the raft, your last semblance of remaining afloat teeters.

It's over.

A second scream escapes your throat as the waves crash around you. The raft, teetering slowly, slips from your grasp, and you plummet into the cold embrace of the ocean. The frigid water engulfs your senses as you struggle to stay afloat, the taste of salt seeping into your mouth and nose, inducing a stinging sensation. Despite the pain, your eyes stay open, but water bubbles cloud your vision, leaving you disoriented in the underwater turmoil.

"[First Name]."

Even as the water filled your ears, a cold hand firmly gripped your torso, preventing you from descending deeper into the ocean's depths. Through your hazed vision, a pair of bright blue eyes and a mop of dark hair came into view, confirming that it was Marlin who held you.

"..N...No..!"

Your attempts to speak result in nothing but muffled cries, your struggle to wriggle free and rise toward the air and sunlight impeded by his unrelenting grip. Your body yielded to an inexplicable force, surrendering to his control like an underwater puppet. In a fleeting instant, a sensation of cold and softness grazed your lips. Uncertain in your disoriented state, you couldn't be sure if it was Marlin's lips pressing against yours, but the moment lingered in a haze of confusion.

As time slipped away, the diminishing air began to weigh on you, involuntarily coaxing your mouth open and allowing water to seep into your lungs. Your ears, now entirely filled with water, rendered Marlin's words muffled and distant.

Observing your distress, Marlin placed an additional hand on your stomach. His fingers, accompanied by sharp nails, delicately traced along your bare skin, adding an unsettling dimension to your already harrowing struggle. As the sands of time trickled away, you strained to discern the letters, your grasp on survival slipping through the narrowing hourglass.

The first letter being, "I". You could feel Marlin pulling you deeper into the ocean.

The second letter being, "L". The salt in your lungs were too much to bear.

The third letter being, "O". You can't see a single thing, your vision being nothing but complete darkness.

The fourth letter being "V". Oh God, you're going to die.

Before comprehension could settle, your body succumbed, surrendering to the relentless force of the deep. As your consciousness slipped away, the haunting echo of those unfinished letters lingered in the underwater silence.