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brain-rot-central · 1 year ago

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Unholy Desire

Pairing: spawn!Astarion x female!Tav (the reader is Tav)

Warnings: 18+, religious kink, breeding kink, innuendo, dry humping, mutual pining, reclaiming sexuality through kink, they talk out their feelings

Word count: 2.7k

Summary: Takes place in Act 3, pre-Cazador. You've finally made it to Baldur's Gate. You take time to offer prayers to your God after coming upon a small church on the outskirts of the city. You and your lover have grown closer over these long weeks, healing past wounds within your hearts, minds, and souls. Your desire has grown to become... sinful. You have a choice to consider: your Oath, or your lover?

This is the third camping spot you and your team find on the outskirts of Baldur's Gate. Rotating spots every few days was probably the best course of action, lest the Flaming Fists come to chase you away in the middle of the night.

You find an old abandoned church during your inspection of these latest campgrounds. It has been a while since you had a proper spot to sit and pray. Lathander has been kind in your journey, thus far. You hadn't offered thanks nearly enough for shining light in the darkest depths of the Shadow-Cursed Lands. Despite the challenges you faced, you and your companions arrived safely to Baldur's Gate. You kneel down behind a bench within the church and fold your hands in prayer. You hang your head and close your eyes. The sun begins to warm your skin as it shines through a crack in the church ceiling. A smile tugs at the corner of your mouth; Lathander is receptive to your prayer offering.

You don't recall how long you remain in that position, praying to the Morninglord. When your eyes lift up, you notice that night has fallen. You see a faint glow in the distance, surely that of the campfire. Faint bits of conversation travel along the night air. The conversation sounds jovial; it's probably fine for you to stay here a bit longer.

Astarion stands in the doorway to the small church, eyes fixated on you as you kneel once again in prayer. He'd come searching for you after your companions failed to reveal your whereabouts. He scoffs softly upon entering the abandoned structure. He thanks the tadpole nestled in his skull for affording him the luxury of waltzing straight into a church. Were this a few months ago, he surely would have burst into cinders upon the first step.

You hear a small 'crunch' off to your left; your head shoots up and your eyes settle on Astarion, who is frozen in place. You will your features to soften at the realization it was only your partner, your lover, who came to check on you. "Are you certain you're a rogue?" you speak to him through the darkness.

Moonlight pours through the ceiling and bathes his face as he comes closer to you, now within full view. He looks ethereal in the pale light. The moonlight reflects off his silver hair in a halo. His eyes glint like newly-polished ruby gemstones, his skin glows like the finest cut ivory. You find it challenging at times to believe he is your mate on this journey. Difficult to accept that the two of you had shared a bed on multiple occasions. The thought makes your mouth dry and your head swim. You shake your head slightly, clearing your mind of such perverse thoughts.

"My dear," he begins, his signature posh tone dripping from each word, "if you've truly forgotten just how deft I am with my hands..." Astarion sits next to your knelt form. He drops a hand to cup your chin, gently tilting your face up to meet his, "...then perhaps you need reminding."

You swallow thickly as he holds your face, and watch his eyes begin to hood. A smile graces his lips and he releases your chin. He scans the church briefly, snickering. "What in the hells are you even doing here? It's rather... drab, darling."

You stand up and brush yourself off. You proceed to then sit next to him on the bench. "I'm praying, Astarion." You take a deep breath in and meet his eyes. "Lathander has been most kind on our journey. I haven't given him nearly enough of my thanks."

Astarion audibly scoffs. "Ugh, I can clearly see that. But why, is my question."

"We made it safely to Baldur's Gate," you explain. "That's more than enough to be thankful for."

Astarion suddenly stands up and over you. A scowl graces his visage, "And you didn't think to tell me you'd be here?" He places one hand upon his hip. "No one had any idea where you'd gone!" His face falls and he averts his gaze to the side. "I was... concerned that you were still out in the city."

You chuckle. Astarion has a softer side to him that sometimes slips out of his otherwise gruff facade. It makes your heart sing with delight each time you see it.

"I'm Baldurian, my love. Remember? I know the city streets quite well." You reach out to hold the hand at his side, and his palm wraps around yours. "I also happen to be a Paladin."

You follow his eyes as they fall upon the floor. The grip on your hand tightens. "And it's not exactly a daily occurrence to have a blood-thirsty vampiric master hunting you." He sighs, soft eyes regaining their focus on you, "Please, darling, just give me some warning next time."

Ah, he's worried you may have been snatched by Cazador. You stand to meet him and wrap your arms around his neck. "My apologies, Astarion. It was not my intention to make you worry." You bury your face in his neck and breathe in. Bergamot, rosemary, and brandy; his signature scent. You feel your body slowly mold against his as the smell floods your olfactory receptors. There have been many nights you've fallen asleep dreaming of this scent. It was oddly comforting to you. It makes you feel safe and secure.

Astarion rests his hands upon your hips and leans his cheek against your temple. You stand together in the small ruined church, holding one another, bathed in moonlight from the cracked ceiling above. "Do you have any idea how much you mean to me," a low rumble escapes his chest as he speaks. His hands begin to snake up your back, his palms resting on your shoulder blades, "Any clue what I think about when I'm alone in my tent at night?"

You slide a hand up into his hair, twirling the locks between your fingers. You litter featherlight kisses along his jawline, and he tilts his head back to give you better access. The hand in his hair tightens, holding him in place. A soft groan escapes his lips as you lick a stripe up the center of his neck. "I don't think you've ever told me," you say.

He shivers within your touch. You watch his eyes flit to the back of his head as you suckle at the scars upon his neck, "Hells, Tav, I've told you so many times..." his voice comes as a soft whisper into the night air. Astarion's hands slide down your back and to your waist, gripping your hips.

"Remind me," you insist as you watch a purple mark bloom on his neck. His hips stutter into yours, and you feel the hardening length of him ever so lightly brush across your mound. You tilt his head to gain access to the opposite side of his neck, and your mouth descends once more.

Another moan escapes his lips and he lowers his face to your ear. "I..." You feel his hands sink lower, coming to rest on your backside, "I think of you below me." Astarion’s breath is cool yet heavy in your ear as his hips begin to meet yours in a soft rhythm, "Or, bent over, with my cock splaying your darling little cunt."

Your hands drop to his biceps as a shutter passes over you. Your hips involuntarily grind against his, pleasured groans slipping free from both of your lips at the joint friction. His hands grip your ass and he holds you against him. You feel the outline of him press against your sex; your walls clench around the thought of him buried to the hilt inside you.

You lean back in his hold and he dips his face to your neck, nose tracing the outline of your pulse point. You shiver as Astarion begins placing chilled kisses against your carotid artery, and you once again lace your hands through his hair.

"I think about your greedy pussy milking my cock for as much of my spend as it can…" Astarion takes a hand off your behind and guides it to your clothed mound, pressing his fingers slightly upward as he swipes across the general vicinity of your clit, "...until you’re positively overflowing, and my seed weeps down your folds into a pool under us." You buck into his palm at the pressure of his fingers. Your hips grind down instinctively against his hand, and you mewl into his neck.

"Please," you beg, "what else do you think about?" Your voice is airy and ragged. You notice the door of the church is open, meaning anyone could see your current state, were they to come over. You feel a sensual twist in your abdomen, and your hands begin untying Astarion's trousers. You need this man stripped and bare before you, getting caught be damned.

His hands come to rest upon your own. "Oh dear, whatever could I have possibly said to put you in such a state?" he feigns coyness as he takes over for you, undoing the knots to his pants. “Are you certain you can handle knowing more?” You raise your head to meet his gaze and nod, slowly. Your eyes are hooded over in lust and you feel a warm blush begin to creep across your face.

Astarion raises a hand to cup the side of your face in his palm. His lips come to grace the shell of your ear, nipping at it softly with his blunted front teeth. The hand on your cheek begins to slide down to your throat and his fingers wrap around the column of your neck. His grip tightens into light pressure against your throat. “Do you truly want to hear…” his tongue traces the curve of your ear down to the lobe, “how I bring myself to completion…” his teeth tug at your earlobe, “...at the thought of you, swollen, with the ultimate consequence of our couplings?” His voice is a whisper in your ear, and you feel your knees threatening to buckle. You groan and extend your neck, a silent offering to the hand on your throat to hold tighter.

He guides one of your hands between the apex of his thighs and cups his swollen length in your palm. Even clothed, you could feel how hard he is. It sends electric shooting down your spine, resonating as a throb of your sex. He sucks in a breath at the pressure of your hand. A broken moan escapes his lips and he speaks into your ear again, “Have you any idea how terribly my body yearns to breed you?”

Your head swims, slowly losing all connection to this material plane of existence. To carry the child of an undead would be blasphemy; you would lose your Oath and fall out of favor with Lathander. Yet… you breathe heavily at the thought of being pumped so full of cum that your womb no longer has room for it. Your pussy throbs at the thought of falling pregnant from such a situation. You feel wetness gathering at the center of your thighs.

“Wouldn't that be the epitome of a holy offering to your God of life?” Astarion moves to press his forehead against yours, and kisses the tip of your nose.

“He's…” you try to rasp out a reply, but your voice fails you. Your face is burning and your thoughts are a muddled mess.

“He's what, dear?” You can hear the amusement in Astarion's voice, knowing he has gotten you to the point where your mind can no longer form coherent thoughts.

“He's… also the God of birth,” you force out. You feel his cock twitch against your palm as the words leave your lips. A shiver passes through you at the thought of giving birth to an undead child, Astarion's undead child. Would it even be possible?

“My, my…” You manage to open your eyes and catch the devious smirk gracing his lips, “how entirely sinful that would be. Your holy womb, thoroughly disgraced by the planting of my seed.” Astarion's lips form into a pout, his voice taking on a soft mocking tone, “I wonder if your God would forsake you for such a thing?”

You often forget Astarion is an undead; he played the part of the living so well, would easily blend into any crowd. Yet, during times like these, he relished in his unholy attributes. He'd long teased you about your devotion to Lathander, went on long monologues about how the Gods were graceless and inevitably forsook everyone. He'd told you how he prayed to every God he knew of during the year he was sealed in a tomb by Cazador. None had answered him. He was bitter, you knew this. And yet… he was also enamored by your devotion. Jealous, even, that your attention was divided between him, and a God.

Your arms come to rest upon his shoulders once more, and you move your head slightly back from his. Your eyes find one another; you hadn't noticed before, but your chosen conversation is having an impact on him, as well. Astarion's pupils are blown wide, the reds of his irises becoming thin rings. “...Could we even do that?” you question, “Could we actually… could I… Now?”

A chuckle escapes his chest. The corner of his tips turns upward into a smile. “Now probably isn't the best time, my sweet. Unless you'd like an audience.” He nods his head in the direction of your companions sitting around the campfire.

Suddenly, your periphery vision returns to you. You recall you're in the small abandoned church within camp, with your companions mere feet away from you. You'd almost begged Astarion to take you within earshot of your companions… in a church, after having just finished your prayers. A scowl graces your lips at the thought.

“Oh, don't be so sour,” Astarion says, tucking strands of hair behind your ear, “We can always try to make this a reality later tonight?”

“Astarion, is it even possible for you to sire a child?” You watch his lips purse into a flat line with your questioning, obviously offended, “I mean, with your… condition.”

Silence stretches long between you. You watch his gaze fall to the laces of his trousers and he begins to retie the knots. The silence is uncomfortable, and you begin to fear you'd said the wrong thing. Yet, you genuinely did not know. Could it happen? You'd not taken precautions during your past encounters. Could it have possibly… already happened? You shift uneasily and remove your arms from his neck.

“...I read a book while out with Gale one afternoon,” he finally says, grasping your wrists before your arms return to your sides. His fingers weave between your own, joining your hands. “He'd been raving about visiting ‘Sorcerous Sundries’ again. Something about an old, dusty tome of some sort,” he scoffs. “I haven't a damned clue what he was talking about.”

Your eyes widen. “You went out shopping, willingly, with Gale?”

“I know,” he sighs, “rather unbecoming of me. Though, I often have reasons for my madness.” He raises one of your joined hands to his lips, kissing the back of your hand, “One being… us. And what our future could be.”

“Astarion…” It dawns on you: he took the afternoon with Gale to research this very topic. To find out if this could ever be a reality for you both.

He unlaces one of your joined hands and brings his palm up to hold the side of your face. “As it turns out, so long as you keep me well-fed, that of which you already do…” a genuine smile graces his lips, “this could very much be a thing between us.”

You smile and raise your hand to cover the one on your cheek, turning your face into his palm. You kiss the inside of his palm, “I think it's best we return to everyone else, lest we get tempted again to start.”

“Of course, dear. I would have to agree,” Astarion turns toward the doorway of the abandoned church, holding out a hand toward you. “Our chosen company of weirdos may turn up with pitchforks should I not return with you in tow rather soon.”

You place your hand in his and follow his lead toward the doorway. “Another night, then?” you suggest.

“No, my sweet,” he says, kissing the back of your hand once more, “tonight would make a lovely opportunity to start.”

#astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x female reader #astarion x female tav #astarion x tav #astarion smut #astarion/reader #astarion/tav #inspired by ruby #thank you ruby #your writing is always *chef's kiss*

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deliciousangelfestival · 4 months ago

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"Darling, bad luck seems endless." - Bucky Barnes - 2

Summary: You've always been haunted by bad luck your entire life, despising it deeply, until you meet someone who finds it amusing.

Character: softdark!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Chapter 1 , Chapter 2 .

Author's Note: Hello, everyone; this story is for thesleepover eventhosted by @the-slumberparty. What I chose is a strawberry sundae with gummy bears as the topping.

Main Masterlist || support: Ko-fi

Thank you to anyone who gave a like, reblog, and left a comment. It motivated me to write more.

Bucky didn’t trust you yet. To test if what you said about your lousy luck was true, he sent you to his competitor, Damien, a mafia boss who owed money to Bucky.

Damien spent most of his time at a museum. Bucky gave you an order, “And I want to see if what you said is true.”

You didn’t thoroughly dislike the idea because, as an artist, you enjoyed going to museums. The museum was a grand, historical building with high ceilings and intricate architecture. Walking through the halls filled with timeless masterpieces, you felt a sense of calm despite the task at hand.

As you wandered, you spotted Damien. He was exactly as Bucky had described: an older man, about the same age as Sir Galileo, with an air of authority and a sharp gaze. You stood at a respectful distance, admiring the same painting he was fixated on—"Portrait of Madame X."

Noticing your interest, Damien turned to you. “A fine piece, isn’t it?” he said, his voice rich and cultured. “John Singer Sargent’s ‘Portrait of Madame X’. It caused quite a scandal when it was first exhibited.”

You listened intently as he explained the history and significance of the painting. His passion for art was evident, and you found yourself genuinely engaged in the conversation.

Suddenly, your phone rang. It was Bucky. “Where’s the bad luck? I see you talking to him without anything happening,” he demanded.

“Uhm…” You hesitated. You never knew when bad luck would strike.

Just then, a scream pierced the air. “Kyaa!”

You turned to see another visitor pointing in horror. The painting you had been admiring had fallen off the wall, landing dangerously close to Damien. You were too stunned to speak.

“No kidding,” Bucky muttered through the phone, equally shocked. It seemed impossible for a securely hung painting to suddenly fall in a museum. He was beginning to believe your curse might be real.

For the second test, Bucky sent you to a café. “Just choose a table and sit near my other competitor, Ivan. It’s an easy task,” he instructed.

You entered the cozy café, its atmosphere warm and inviting with the smell of freshly brewed coffee and pastries. You found a table near Ivan and started sketching another jewelry design for Bucky.

Ivan, seated nearby, glanced over and noticed your drawing. “That’s quite impressive,” he remarked, leaning in slightly.

“Thank you,” you replied, offering a polite smile.

“What inspires your designs?” he asked, genuinely curious.

Before you could answer, a waitress tripped and spilled a hot cup of coffee right onto Ivan’s thigh. He yelped in pain and surprise, the conversation abruptly ending.

Bucky, watching everything unfold on a screen, was astounded. “You really do bring bad luck.”

“...” You remained silent, unsure of how to respond.

“But I’m getting all the advantages,” Bucky continued with a sly grin. “Thank you.”

You didn’t know whether to feel offended or relieved that Bucky was starting to believe you.

The last incident that convinced Bucky was when he brought you to a ball party hosted by another gangster whom Bucky despised, who was there to show off his wealth.

The host planned to reveal a rare diamond during the party, but it was stolen. This was unexpected and seemingly impossible due to the high level of security. While everyone else panicked, Bucky remained calm. He looked at you and said, "You’re my lucky charm."

🍀🍀🍀🍀🍀

All these experiences made your once dull life exciting. You started to appreciate the bad luck you had. You realized that working with Sir Galileo was the longest job you had ever held.

One day, you asked him if he had ever faced misfortune. Surprisingly, he said, “I did. My former driver got into an accident, and the electricity short-circuited on the first day you worked here.”

You were shocked and felt guilty. “It must be because of me.”

He shook his head and said, “It’s nothing. I’ve lived a long time and faced a lot of things, especially working with gangsters and mafia. I just keep on living.”

‘Just keep on living.’ He’s right. Even with bad luck, you continued living. Life always punched you to the ground, but you got back up again.

Slowly, you started liking your bad luck. You experienced exciting events, even assisting Bucky in getting rid of his rival businesses.

But then you noticed that your bad luck didn’t happen as often. In fact, you started getting lucky.

You found $100 on the street one day, got a free coffee when the barista mistakenly made an extra, and even won a small prize in a local raffle. It felt like life was turning around.

Curious, you revisited the same paranormal. She said, “Bad luck left after you started liking it.”

“How?” you asked, bewildered.

“It’s complicated,” she replied with a knowing smile.

You still couldn’t believe it. You remembered the saying, “Fall in love with your problems, and maybe they will leave you too.”

Damn. Even bad luck left you.

If there was no bad luck, how could you help Bucky?

Since then, you stopped meeting Bucky, leaving him wondering. Days turned into weeks, and Bucky felt your absence deeply. Determined, he went to find you.

“Do you think I only wanted you because of your bad luck?” he asked, his eyes searching yours.

“Didn’t you?” you replied, your heart pounding.

Bucky stepped closer, his gaze intense. “I said before, you’re the only woman who’s willing to risk her life for me.”

You felt a warmth spread through you as he spoke. "Bucky, I—"

He interrupted, "It's not just your bad luck. It's you. You're brave, resilient, and you’ve changed my life in ways I never expected. I don't want to lose that. I don't want to lose you."

You looked into his eyes, seeing a depth of sincerity that took your breath away. "I never thought I'd hear you say that," you said softly.

"I mean it," he replied, taking your hand in his. "You bring something into my life that no one else ever has. Bad luck or not, I want you with me."

For a moment, you hesitated, memories of your past misfortunes flashing through your mind. But then you realized that with Bucky, you had faced and overcome those challenges together. And now, without the constant shadow of bad luck, you felt a new kind of strength.

"You really mean it?" you asked, needing to be sure.

He nodded, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "Yes, I do. We make a great team. And I want us to continue, no matter what comes our way."

You smiled back, feeling a sense of relief and joy wash over you. "Alright, Bucky. Let's face the future together."

With that, he pulled you into a tender embrace, holding you close. "Thank you," he whispered. "For everything."

You looked up at him, your heart full. "Thank you for believing in me."

From that moment on, your life with Bucky was filled with new adventures, challenges, love, and support. Together, you faced whatever came your way, more vital than ever. And you knew that, no matter what, you would always have each other.

-the end-

Taglist:

@thezombieprostitute

@thetravelingtyper

@scott-loki-barnes

@mostlymarvelgirl

@chemtrails-club

@dexter99

@seresingirlie

@missvelvetsstuff

@kjah97

@tfatwsoldir

@buckysdoll85

@lokislady82

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theapangea · 1 year ago

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Hanging on the Telephone

Lip Gallagher x innocent!reader

Part of the Every Little Touch Series

Summary: Phone sex with Lip Gallagher

W/C: 2k

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI!!! Male and female masturbation

A/N: I know I've been MIA but here is a little Lip smut for making you wait so long you little pervs ;). This was a fun one to write and maybe there will be a part two to this story! This is part of my Every Little Touch Series with Lip x innocent!reader. My requests is currently closed but when it does open please feel free to suggest any ideas you have for this story or another one. Love you cuties!! <3

Finally you murmur, shuffling your snow covered boots through the carpeted floor. Struggling to strip your coat and shoes off at the same time. Trying to work quickly as the stale air of the house makes you start to sweat under your several layers.

Eyes sleepy, heavy, ready to collapse onto themselves as the coat and boots are soon forgotten about, taking the last several steps to your bed before plopping face first into the mattress. The plush blanket muffling your scream as you release all the built up stress from the stupid little day you are having. Though the scream seems not to be working.

Rolling over onto your back, arms laying delicately over your mid section. Eyes fixated on the ceiling, the weight on your shoulders grows heavy as the strain builds behind your eyes making it tougher to breathe. Cursing silently at your stupid, sad, pathetic fucking life. A small stream of tears trickle down your temples, squeezing your eyes sharply together, wishing everything and everyone away.

Just need a little peace.

Just need a little release.

Taking a deep, slow breath as you let your mind wander. Rubbing your thighs together, the buzzing runs through your thoughts, suddenly landing on Lip. His causoled fingers running down your delicate skin. Absentmindedly touching the same spots he did while you continue to let your mind run wild.

Breath hitches as your fingers grace the lining of your jeans. Arching your back as you imagine Lip placing small kisses down the side of your neck, a trail of wet warmth and deep bruising. Not really thinking much into what you are actually doing. But you missed his touch, even if you have only felt it once. Missed the way he made you feel, wanting to feel that way every single day of your life. Desperately wanting to feel that release again, wanting him to send you over the edge.

The vibrating in your back pocket makes you jump from your skin. Almost as if someone has caught you in the act of thinking about the shared moment with Lip and what that would ultimately lead to.

Lifting your hips in the air, your toes digging into the carpet as your hand struggles to grip the small device from the bottom of your pocket. The vibration is still buzzing, sending a quivering through your body. Finally pulling the device free, flipping the phone open to see Lip’s name displayed on the small screen and behind it a blurry picture you took of him on last year’s school trip to Cloud Gate (the big shiny bean in Chicago).

Instantly pushing the answer button and placing the phone to your ear. A half-whisper greeting escapes you as you wiggle your way to the top of your bed. Feeling a little embarrassed to be talking to Lip after you almost let yourself get off on the thought of him.

“Whatcha doing?’ Lip questions from the other end, you can hear the brush of smoke that hits the receiver.

“Currently,” Pausing for dramatic effect, “Succumbing to my self loathing, waiting for the universe to end it all.” You force out a life to make light of the situation.

His low chuckle as a response sends a shiver through your body, igniting the fire that grows between your legs.

A smile lamenting itself firming onto your face. Lip has that effect on you, making this life feel a little less lonely. “And what might the famous Lip Gallagher be doing right now?” You ask, picking at the dirt underneath your nails.

“Ya’know, just been thinking.”

“About what?” You inquire, hoping you already know the answer.

Stuttering over his words as he tries to form them into sentences, feeling a bump in his throat as he doesn’t know exactly how to say it, “Ab-about the other d-day…about you.”

Heat rises immediately to your cheeks, a full breath filling your lungs until they burn. A huge smile engulfing your features as you silently giggle to yourself. Happy beyond belief that he was thinking about you.

“Yeah?” Is all you can muster to say as the air has fully exited your chest, leaving you laying there, basking in the bliss.

Carding a hand through his messy hair as he takes another drag of his cigarette. Lip’s body sprawled out over his bed as his voice hitches, “Can’t stop thinking about it.”

The words are music to your ears as you happily tap your feets against the soft comforter. He’s been thinking about you, thinking about what you both did together and he’s talking to you about it.

“Have you been thinking about it?” He speaks softly into the phone, finally realizing that you have been silent a little too long.

“Maybe…” You’re a little embarrassed to admit it. Not because you didn’t want it to happen or that you are embarrassed of Lip in any way. You’ve just never been comfortable talking about any form of sex or pleasure before, especially talking about it with someone else.

Another puff of smoke hits the receiver as you can hear Lip shift on the other end, “Any particular part?” He hums.

You’re hesitant at first, doing this stuff in person is one thing but having to talk about it is a whole other beast you’d never thought you’d have to overcome. But you want to talk about it with Lip, he makes you feel comfortable and wanted. He makes this experience way less scary than you had originally thought.

“Your hands,” You finally confess, the heat rising rapidly to your cheeks as you pull your legs to your chest, doing anything to hide.

He purrs against the receiver. “Where? Deep inside of you?”

“Lip.” You whine, embarrassed that he just said that out loud. He speaks about this stuff so plainly and bluntly that you almost don’t know how to act. Almost as if he gets a kick out of seeing you embarrassed.

“That’s exactly what I’ve been thinking about.” The words are heaven, laced in pure silk running perfectly over your body as the thought of Lip thinking about the way you felt under his grasp, the way his fingers curled expertly inside of you, the way you tasted, all innocent and pure. He can’t help not thinking about the way you relaxed under his touch and how he desperately wants to do it again. “Do you still feel that itch?”

The heat has not subsided yet from your cheeks as he keeps talking about it and you have to admit that the itch has truly never gone away. It was just in a deep little part of your brain, eagerly waiting for Lip to let it out.

You hum as you stretch your legs out in front of you, squeezing your thighs together again.

“Like right now?”

Especially now.

“Are you going to do anything about it?” He questions.

You huff, “I’m not really sure what to do.” You have to admit out loud which seems so silly at the moment.

“It’s okay,” his tone is subtle, “‘member what I showed you?”

Closing your eyes as his words whisper your mind into the amazing memory that you two share together. You could swear that you are currently there now, wrapped in Lip’s arms as he rubs your core into ecstasy.

You hum against the phone, your tone is whiny as your other hand grabs at the rough fabric of your jeans.

“Just touch yourself like that, tell me what you’re doing, how you’re feeling.” His voice calms you down.

Shaking your head as you murmur over the line, “Ok.”

Stumbling over your words as you struggle to take off your jeans while laying in bed, “I-I’m taking off m-my je-jeans…come on.” You angrily whisper to your jeans as you push them off.

Lip laughs on the other end at your struggle, able to picture you perfectly as the sounds of muffling come over the receiver.

“I’m in my panties now.” You say to him.

He laughs again, this time more from the chest.

“Don’t laugh at me.” You whine, “I’m new to this.”

“Do you want me to talk instead?” He suggests.

“Yes, please,” You breathe a sigh of relief. Blessing that you won’t embarrass yourself any further.

“One sec then,” Lip says before the phone goes silent. Jumping up quickly to rip off his shirt and jeans before grabbing the phone again, relaxing into the mattress. Lip’s hand is instantly on his cock when he gets back on the phone with you. “Ready.” He’s barely able to get out his words as his touch sends electricity through his body.

The pre-cum dripping slightly from his pulsing tip onto his stomach. He doesn't know how long he will last, his imagination has been getting him through the days, desperately wanting to touch every part of you, know every single detail.

You lightly breath out the word yeah, biting your lip in anticipation of what's to come next.

“Slip your hand under your panties.” His almost demanding tone falls delicately on your ears.

Your hand slips underneath your white, cotton panties. Fingers trailing over your mound, hesitant to touch too close to your burning center. A single whimper escapes you as you stop just short on meeting your needs.

“Good girl. Now touch that pretty little clit of yours for me.” Lip’s voice is paradise, guiding you on this journey of self-discovery. Begging, pleading for you to just slip your finger between your folds.

The electric jolt of pleasure bursts through your body as your middle finger grazes over your sensitive nub. You whine heavily into the phone. Lip returns with a groan of his own, happily pleasuring himself, your whimpers are addicting as he strokes his aching cock.

“How does it feel?” He purrs.

“Amazing.” Your chest falls as you sink a finger deeper between your folds, delicately teasing your entrance like Lip did before. Imagining that it’s his finger dipping graciously into your burning core.

“But not as good as when I do it?” He questions, his words teasing you.

“Definitely not.” Grinding against your fingers, the confidence begins to trickle in as you try to talk dirty to him, “I wish it was you…touching me, your fingers deep inside of me.” Curling a finger into your dripping hole, struggling to accommodate your own finger this time.

Adding more pressure to his grip as Lip’s hand falls down his length. Buckling his hips as he groans when you call his name, knowing that your holes are filled because of him.

Lip’s name whispers from your mouth, between moans, whimper after whimper as he tells you to pick up speed, pumping your fingers deeper inside of your burning core. Back arching, fingers losing rhythm as you gasp one final time. White, hot flames filling your bloodstream as you scream Lip’s name into your empty room, cumming intensely onto your soaked fingers.

Lip follows you as he pumps faster and more rapidly as you say you’re picking up speed, face contorting into pure pleasure as one last pump sends him over the edge. The perfect white liquid shooting from his cock, landing onto his stomach. Stroking a couple more times as his breathes even out and a small laugh departs his lips

Your chest is heavy when the world starts to fall into place again. Cumming with you was absolutely the best sexual experience Lip has ever had.

The phone is quiet for a couple beats, neither of you knowing what to say or how to continue.

And before either of you can continue a conversation, banging on the door from Lip’s end pulls you back to reality, “Lip, you're wastin’ all the minutes.�� Fiona loudly calls from the other side of his locked door.

“Shit,” Lip curses from the other end, “I’ll see you at school tomorrow, ‘kay?”

He hangs up with a quick goodbye.

And then it was reality staring you right in the face when you realized that you’d have to face Lip at school tomorrow. Fuck.

~~~

Let me know what you think!! My replies don't work but I am more than happy to talk to you in my inbox or messages. Thank you for supporting me !! I LOVE YOU!!!

#lip gallagher imagine #lip gallagher smut #lip gallagher x reader #lip gallagher #shameless x reader #lip gallagher fanfic #lip gallagher x you #every little touch series #theapangea

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al-the-remix · 3 months ago

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BuckTommy Positivity Week Day 4: hobbies and dates

a dirt biking date for @bucktommypositivityweek day four! 🏍

(Something, something, I have a lot of feelings about Buck finally having someone who trusts him to be himself, even when he's reckless and impulsive. It's an important facet of the Evan Buckley Experience. Anyway, this only sort of brushes the surface of that.)

So maybe taking Evan out on the trails had been a little self-serving…but Tommy had always been a sucker for a man straddling a dirt bike. In his experience, all men looked better with a little mud on them. It was one of those fixations that had started early, sinking its teeth into his lizard-brain like a dog and refusing to be shaken off.

And maybe he hadn’t been prepared for just how good Evan would look, all adrenalin-flushed and wind-chafed, his curls unglued from their standard gel and plastered to his forehead with helmet-sweat. Unlike some of his previous boyfriends, Evan actually knew how to ride a motorcycle; the competence was both incredibly hot and had presented its own issues...

Road biking and dirt biking weren’t the same, but Evan’s eyes had gotten big and dish-saucer like when he’d seen the bikes hanging from the ceiling in Tommy's garage. Not long after he had been hovering over Tommy’s shoulder as Tommy had showed him maps of off road trails on his iPad, pointing out the ones he had thought looked nice.

“That one,” Evan had said, indicating a trail marked Difficult. “It’s got a great look out.”

Tommy had raised a brow. “Are you sure you don’t want to take it easy for your first time?”

Evan had snorted out a laugh in his ear. “Why would I want to do that?”

“Right, I forgot who I was talking to…” he’d teased and Evan had elbowed him playfully. “Alright, Bud Ekins, advanced it is.”

In his experience Evan Buckley wasn’t a man who needed training wheels or kid gloves; and watching him tear away on one of Tommy’s bikes onto the forest trail was just another, very literal instance of Evan revving the gas and leaving Tommy in the dust. It was thrilling on some level. It had been a long time since Tommy felt challenged in a relationship in positive ways, he hadn’t realized till meeting Evan how stuck in a rut (ha) his dating life had been for a while now.

It was all going very smoothly until it wasn’t. It only took a split second for Evan’s bike to spin out and disappear into a ditch. Tommy swore, pulling into a sliding stop.

“Wait! Wait, don’t move!” he called, jogging over to where Evan lay flat on his back, looking a little stunned. At least all his limbs were laying at the correct angles.

He slid down the bank on his heels, coming to kneel at Evan’ side. “Did you land on a rock or anything?” He ripped his gloves back to feel around Evan’s neck.

“I’m fine,” he groaned as he reached for his helmet. “You wrapped me up in enough protective gear you could FedEx me cross country.”

“Well, you’re a very important package,” Tommy quipped, finally allowing Evan to sit up.

Evan rolled his eyes huffing out a laugh. He didn’t look too banged up, but Tommy still felt compelled to ask: “How does your head feel? We should go to the hospital if you think you could have a concussion.”

“Do you really want to spend the rest of our day off in the ER?” Evan challenged.

“I’d be more than happy to, if needed.”

Evan’s eyes skated down and away as he visibly swallowed. “Seriously, I’ve broken enough bones and sprained enough joints to recognize it when it happens. I’m good.”

Tommy didn’t exactly feel great about that, but he wasn’t about to force Evan to do anything he didn’t want to. He knew his body well.

“And you’d let me know if you did?”

“Yes.”

“Okay,” Tommy said, giving Evan a hand pulling his bike back out of the ditch. “You think you can get yourself back? I can give you a ride and get the bike out later if you want.”

“Nah, I’m good,” Evan said, tightening his neck guard back up.

“We’ll go slow.”

When they made it back to the parking lot Tommy got Evan situated on the tailgate of his truck and went to forage for his first aid kit buried under other junk in the backseat footwell.

Evan was peeling his chest protector off with a grimace when Tommy returned. “I don’t think I had enough skin showing to get any scraps, mostly what’s bruised is my ego,” Evan said, a little sheepishly as Tommy settled in between his knees.

“Let me check for my own peace of mind.”

He helped peel the long sleeve over Evan’s head, who sat surprisingly patiently as Tommy gave him the once over. His skin was flushed and a little bruised but all together nothing too serious, and maybe Tommy lingered just a little longer than necessary, running his hands up along Evan's arms and over the broad curve of his shoulders.

“Ah, I see, this was just an excuse to feel me up the whole time,” Evan drawled when he realized what Tommy was up to.

“You caught me,” Tommy said, slipping deeper between Evan’s legs.

Admittedly Evan had been correct, and he’d be sore and stiff tomorrow, but no worse off. The only broken skin was a small scrape on his arm where his sleeve had rolled up, and Tommy took his time dressing it even though it wasn’t bleeding.

“You know, Maddie used to do this for me all the time,” Evan said, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled over them. “I was always getting myself into some kind of predicament.”

Tommy hummed. “No wonder she's such a good nurse, she had a good patient to practice on.”

“I’m not sure she’d agree,” Evan said, his laugh edging on self-concious.

“I think she would,” Tommy said and pressed a kiss to the bandaid for good measure. “There, as good as new.”

“Well, I still feel a little embarrassed,” Evan admitted as he hopped off the tailgate with a groan and hobbled around so he could lean himself against the side of the truck. “It's way harder to put the moves on you with a limp.”

“I wasn't aware I was being wooed,” Tommy said as he began setting up the ramp.

“You're always being wooed, trust me,” Evan drawlled, gaze skating the length of Tommy’s body as he pushed the first bike up into the bed.

Tommy paused, catching Evan’s eyes where he stood, looking down at him. He knew with Evan his life would never be boring, but instead of being intimidating, the prospect was a comforting one. He knew that he’d never have to worry about where Evan was coming from or if he wanted Tommy as badly as Tommy wanted him. Evan, who was intense and passionate and sincere, someone Tommy could get into trouble with and he knew would still be at his side when they had to dig their way back out.

He trusted Evan to be himself: one of the strongest people Tommy knew.

“I do,” Tommy said, with more weight in his words than he was really intending. "Trust you.

Evan’s expression turned a bit startled, then softened. “Thank you.”

#bucktommy #mine #telling myself no one notices that one mistype i just found and i don't have to fling myself into the void

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alexiswritingstuff · 14 days ago

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A partner in the dark.

Pairing: Logan x male reader

Request: Logan with a m!reader who has insomnia/just can’t sleep?? I can’t sleep, but I’m never sure if it’s insomnia because other times I sleep just fine. maybe it’s anxiety, idk - but sometimes I think all those problems would go away if I just had a big fluffy man to cuddle on, y’know??

Warnings: none.

A/n: this might be the shortest fic I have ever written. This request is so unbelievably real. As always, be aware that my characterisation of Logan may be a little off as I'm still getting used to writing for him, and that there may be spelling mistakes and such as I can tend to miss them.

To the person that sent this in I hope this is what you were asking for, and that you enjoy it!

The same goes for everyone else!!

Logan masterlist.

The awareness of time had been lost. It had been hours at this point. The only certain thing was that the night had taken over the sky.

Your room was cascaded in the usual darkness, except for a few streams of the outside light that escaped through a parting of the curtains. Apparently they hadn't been closed right.

To put it simply, you were wide awake in a bed that practically served no purpose.

Your eyes were stuck on the ceiling. There was no particular reason. I mean, there wasn't anything to look at anyway, it was just plain white. A shade that was really starting to get boring.

But alas, every attempt at peeling your gaze from it or even just shutting your eyes had failed. Similar to the effort to sleep.

Multiple times the rustling of the bed sheets would crackle through the air as your limbs shifted across the mattress, though the only thing really achieved was discovering a new position.

Eventually, your back was the last option left. So, there you were, stuck facing upward while your hands sat on top of each other on your chest. You could feel it rise and fall. Even the faintest beats of your heart.

And it still didn't work.

An exhale parted your lips after sucking in through your nose. There was one more try for comfort, your shoulders sort of rubbing into the bed as if they were the source of the problem.

“Can't sleep?”

You blinked initially, the sound almost delayed in your ears as your senses weren’t as active as they were before.

Soon, your head loosely lolled to the side, at most an attempt to send a simple glance at the man. Though, it remained when you had met with his dark eye.

Only one was on display; the other engulfed by the pillow. He lay opposite you, in more ways than one. He was on his stomach as he peered at you, eyelids visibly heavy; each blink lasted longer than the next.

“Did I wake you?” you whispered.

Logan sort of huffed at that, air piercing from his nose. “Could,” he corrected through a grumble, “until some guy kicked me in the leg.”

The side of your face fully pressed into your pillow, chin lowering, so that you could face him enough. “I did?” You were cringing, concerned gaze fixating on Logan while he slowly but surely started to twist his body round with an equal amount of groans.

There was almost a sigh of relief when he had landed on his back, his body bouncing just a tad from the sudden movement. “Don’t worry about it.” he offered with some gruffness, his lack of energy seeming to affect his use of tone.

It had you just looking at him for a moment. Watching the last few times he blinked before his eyes decided to stay closed. You hummed for a response, a sound so light it had barely even made its way through your throat.

And then you were back to facing that dreaded ceiling. It almost annoyed you by how smooth it looked. Didn’t even look like it had been painted, even if it had; there were no streaks or imperfections. Just purely white.

“What’s wrong?”

This time, you didn’t budge. “Nothing.” you practically whispered. “You sure?” Logan was quick to ask, seeming to shuffle around a little bit as the bed creaked, “I personally don’t find a ceiling all that interesting.”

The tensity in your muscles eased, especially in your face, when you allowed your head to turn. Yet again.

He was looking at you through almost half lidded eyes. Though, his eyebrows were raised, inviting your answers. You sighed, trying to think of the right words to use before your lips inevitably parted.

“My brain’s too loud.”

It was the only way you could describe it. I mean, the room engulfing the two of you was silent. Completely silent. There were no sounds of birds from outside, or wind. Not even a car driving passed on the road.

If a pin had been dropped in any corner of the room, maybe even right down the hallway, you would have heard it. Thus, it was all from your head.

Logan seemed to sit up a little at that. The movement wasn’t so much in his body than it was his head as it raised slightly from the pillow beneath. “D’you wanna talk about it?”

You could’ve pictured the expression on his face if you hadn’t already been looking at it; the furrowing of his eyebrows, the squint of his eyes, the light frown that dragged the corners of his lips. Now, he was awake.

You shook your head, as much as you could in your position. “It’s just annoying.” you confessed, grabbing onto Logan’s hand when he reached over.

Initially it was aimed towards your face, but you held it instead. You needed something in your hand; to feel it. “I’m so tired, but when I try to sleep nothing happens, you know?”

“It’s the one thing I should be able to do– like everyone else, and I just… I can’t. I can’t get myself to stop thinking.”

Logan’s other hand came up from somewhere under the sheet, dragging along the bedding until it could finally make contact with your face. An exhale instinctively huffed through your nose at the touch, and the feeling of his warm fingers. He caressed along your cheekbone. “Come here.”

You stared back at him for a moment, his features barely visible in the few streams of light until it got to his shining eyes.

Logan let go of you for a moment, grabbing at the dog tags around his neck before pulling it to the side. And then he held his arms out, proving that he meant it.

You complied.

Your head ended up landing on his chest, mostly because he guided it there himself, and it was almost instantly that your body melted onto his.

You could feel his arms encasing you, finding their wanted positions just like yours were, though eventually his hands had settled around your shoulders.

His heartbeat was right in your ear; the slow rhythm of it, the thuds themselves. Truthfully, even if none of this helped you to sleep, you still wouldn’t mind listening to it until the sun came up.

“There’s nothing to worry about now,” Logan insisted with a breath that raised you with his chest. He pressed a kiss to your head before leaning his chin against it, “It can wait until morning.”

“I can’t just shut my mind off, Logan–”

“It can wait.” he maintained, tightening his hold on you as he shifted slightly on the bed.

It had you wanting to roll your eyes. To shake your head, maybe even roll off of him completely, but there was something about it that made it impossible to do so.

You were surrounded by his warmth. His arms. Him. He had given his body to lean on, and offered the sound of his heart right to you; a sound you don’t get to hear very often. There was no chance that you were moving.

By the next exhale, your head had sunk further into the bare skin of his chest. The two of you practically melded together.

Your fingers lightly traced along the back of his arm, following the edge of his muscles as the sound of his breaths filled your ears. “Thank you.” you whispered after a moment, finally letting your eyes fall closed.

“No need.”

#logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x male reader #wolverine #wolverine x reader #wolverine x male reader #x men

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umemiyan · 8 months ago

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𝗞𝗔𝗧𝗦𝗨𝗞𝗜 𝗕𝗔𝗞𝗨𝗚𝗢 𝗫 𝗔𝗙𝗔𝗕!𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗗𝗘𝗥. ⌇ 18+ only, mdni / unprotected sex / allusion to reader being on birth control / a kinda angsty situationship, they're mean to each other, etc.

your knees are planted on the mattress, legs working you up and down the length of his cock in a rhythmic bounce. katsuki's fingers dig into your hips and aid you in your movements with his strength, all while those ruby eyes are fixated on the motion of your tits. they flash up to meet your face when you ask a question.

"can you cum inside this time?"

his brows furrow briefly, and he responds resolutely with no hesitation, gaze falling back to your chest. "hell no."

you meet him with an offended scoff, disappointed in his unsatisfactory answer. "why not? you know it's safe."

"i don't care."

your irritation at his stubbornness heightens, and you need to question his reasoning. "but that doesn't make sense."

katsuki's own annoyance swells along with the strength behind his grip on you and the speed with which his hips move up to meet yours. "will you just shut the hell up?" his jaw is starting to clench, the angry shape of his brow intensifying, and he thinks he could cum if you'd be quiet; he needs to pull out—

"no! it doesn't make sense!" even as your words are jostled by the choppy airflow to your lungs, you're apparently insistent on ruining this for him.

he growls through gritted teeth. "dammit—"

fed up and frustrated, he pulls you off of him and tosses you to the side where you land on the mattress with a bounce, effectively edging himself, little to your knowledge. he's pissed and heaving and sweating, cock red and pulsing with his rapid heartbeat, equally as angry. and you're empty.

you take a moment to process the change, growing cold both physically and emotionally.

"are you serious right now?" you ask, looking over and examining him. "why are you being such a bitch?"

katsuki's staring at the ceiling, an arm resting on his forehead and somewhat blocking you from his peripheral vision. his voice is breathless and lacks fervor. this encounter is over. "fuck off. stop askin' me dumb ass questions."

you shake your head with a smile of pure disbelief. "oh my god…"

equally as irritated and returning to a frown, you sit up more properly and stonewall him in return. "okay. whatever." you quickly move to collect your clothes, throw them back on, and leave his room without another word.

he can't even manage to finish himself after that; though, still covered in your slick, he aches and leaks against his stomach for several minutes once you shut the door.

hours later, your phone buzzes with a text.

> it feels too good

it's katsuki, and you're confused. what the hell could he possibly be on about after earlier?

? <

you're left waiting a few moments for a response.

> cumming inside you > feels too good > i know i wont be able to stop

this is his explanation—his begruding, indirect apology.

he's known ever since the first time that it'll be a slippery slope if he ever indulges again, so he doesn't. but he cums to the thought of it. he always does.

#dividers by @cafekitsune #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo smut #katsuki bakugou smut #my writing.#re: katsuki bakugou

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mm-lurking · 7 months ago

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Russian Roulette of Poison - Aventurine

A business deal, lies and a poisoned wine glass is how you find yourself in Aventurine’s arms, crying bitter tears of pain. A/N: I started playing Penacony and met Aventurine. Had some ideas brewing so here you go.

Warnings: Aventurine x fem! reader, angst drama and tension, I made up half of the stuff I say here, its all fanon, there is no logic only feelings

WC: 2356 — It’s another grand night in the magnificent land of dreams, Penacony. The Dreamscape Hotel is bustling with the most renowned guests and exquisite catering befitting for such a place. Everything glimmers and dazzles from the floor to the ceiling, there is a joyous melody playing in the background and the most unique conversations you have heard. But none of that matters to you as you sit at the far end of the lobby anxiously observing Aventurine, your situationship, and that lady next to him. From your position, you can only make out their figures but it is enough to make you nervous.

You massage your temples as you ponder on what is going on between them. Aventurine stands in front of the bar with a hand in his pocket and a wine glass in another with a smug smile on his face as he converses with that lady. Judging from her pose, she seems to be relaxed and friendly almost as if Aventurine was a long-lost friend she had reunited with at Penacony. Judging from her clothes, she seems to be someone of high status and wealth. Your head starts to throb as you dig through your mind and try to figure out where you had seen her before. She looked so familiar but why couldn’t you figure out who she was?

There’s a saying that goes: trust your gut. Trust your intuition for it tells you something is wrong before you even realise so. And right now your gut was sending you signals that something wasn’t right about the conversation between those two. That you had to interfere and see for yourself what was going on. In this land of dreams, even the brightest smiles hold sinister intentions and you knew for yourself you couldn’t trust anyone wholeheartedly here.

So you make up your mind and slowly walk over to them both, the bright lights shining over you as you move from the darkness of your corner back into the dazzling atmosphere of the hotel. Your eyes are fixated on the lady this time as she grabs two wine glasses off the counter and pours sparkling wine into them. Just like everything else in this room, the wine fizzes and reflects the light of the gleaming chandeliers in the room. Your eyes narrow immediately as she pours the wine into his glass; the subtle yet obvious change in the liquid immediately alerts you it's poisoned.

To your surprise, Aventurine casually just takes the glass and swirls it around, smiling at the woman while doing so. Now, you didn’t doubt his abilities -of course not! There is a reason he had earned the notorious reputation he has today. If life was a poker table, he always had a royal flush in his decks. Even if the odds weren’t in his favour he always found a way to turn the tables. Life was a grand gamble and he would always be the final victor, the one with the most chips and most wins at the table. Only a fool would misjudge a mastermind such as Aventurine.

But this was different. You were almost certain he didn’t know his wine was poisoned. To the untrained eye, the wine would appear as normal but to you, an expert in toxicology, it was obvious as hell. Years of forensics and cleaning up murders meant you were often able to predict danger before it unfolded.

“Don’t drink it..!”

Before you register your actions, you are already standing in front of Aventurine and the guest as you tightly grip his wine glass and look at him in panic. He glances at you momentarily with a confused look before shaking his head.

“It is rude to stop me from consuming a drink that was especially poured for me don’t you think?”

“My my, who do we have here? Care to introduce her, Aventurine?”

The woman interrupts your conversation and you turn to look at her, nervously fidgeting with your hands as you think of what to say. She doesn’t look angry but the way her eyes narrow slightly implies she isn’t too happy either.

“Oh her? I coincidentally ran into her at Penacony. She occasionally works with the IPC if contracted.”

Aventurine answers for you and you blink at him before quickly nodding. No, you both being here in Penacony was not a coincidence; he had brought you here with him given your…special relationship with him. The woman smirks and lifts her wine glass higher, swirling it intently before staring right into your eyes.

“And this friend of yours has quite the nerve to interrupt us so rudely don’t you think, Aventurine?”

“The guests on Penacony are always a handful.”

He replies and you sigh quietly. Of course, he wouldn’t really take your side just because you both were into each other. You weren’t boyfriend and girlfriend, but not exactly just friends either. Friends don’t kiss each other secretively while passing in the corridors. And friends definitely don’t spend the night together every few days. Keeping your complicated relationship status aside, business was business and right now you looked like a fool interrupting their conversation like this.

“The wine is poisoned Aventurine. Don’t drink it.”

You ignore the way they both take jabs at you and glance at Aventurine. You tightly grip his wine glass and try to take it away, but it doesn’t budge. The laugh the woman lets out in disbelief makes you turn your attention to her as she stares at you and scoffs.

“Poisoned? Are you out of your mind?”

“I saw it myself.”

“You saw the wine being poisoned? In this room full of people?”, she stretches her free hand and motions around the room at the bustling atmosphere surrounding you three. There were already eyes on you from the beginning and now more people were starting to look in your direction from the way the guest loudly spoke. Embarrassment creeps in and you feel yourself turning pink from the awkwardness of the situation. Regardless, you stay resolute and repeat your thoughts.

“I remember what I saw very well, madam. My eyes do not lie.”

You look straight into her eyes and she rolls them, clearly outraged by your accusations.

“You have quite the audacity to assume I would poison the wine of my dear guest so publicly.”

Aventurine watches quietly and seeing how neither of you were backing down he tries to calm down the tension.

“Hey, let's not go there now-“

“How about this, friend of Aventurine, since you don’t believe me, why don’t I drink the wine myself to prove to you that the wine isn’t poisoned?”

She cuts Aventurine off and smiles at you slyly as she raises her glass high in the air and takes a large sip of the wine. You nervously gulp as she pushes the glass away from her lips and looks at you.

“See? Nothing happened at all. You are embarrassing yourself.”

“But-”

“Enough. You’re humiliating yourself now. Everyone is looking at us, friend.”

Aventurine hisses into your ears and you feel your heart drop at the lack of his understanding of you. The shame and discomfort causes tears to form in your eyes and you harshly gulp, unwilling to show your weakness. Whispers and chuckles erupt in the air as you hear people talking about you and pointing fingers at you but you shake your head and focus on the situation at hand.

The woman keeps talking, insulting your intelligence and common sense but you’re too focused on your thoughts to fully register anything. You rack your brain as you try to think about how to prove yourself. It doesn’t take too long for you to figure out another path. Right, that must be it. If he wasn’t going to believe you then-

Without a word, you snatch Aventurine’s glass forcefully and take a sip of his wine. He is unable to stop you in time as the sparkling wine runs down your throat and the instant you swallow the liquid a bitter burning sensation sets in your throat.

-you would have to prove yourself in the most extreme way possible. Just as you suspected, it wasn’t the wine but the glass itself that was laced with poison. It was not strong enough to kill you immediately but not weak enough to set in slowly either. You stop momentarily and stare at the glass before gulping down the rest of it completely.

The average person would assume that the bitterness in their throat was the result of the strong wine; continuing to take slow sips throughout the party and allowing the small yet steady dosage of the drug to cause harm. This way the perpetrator wouldn’t be traced back so easily among the various servers, bartenders and guests. Yet you drinking the wine down in one go meant only one thing.

“!!!”

Aventurine stares in horror as the wine glass shatters on the floor and you fall along with it, choking and gasping for air. Loud gasps echo in the room as people watch everything unfold. You feel nauseous and an overwhelming amount of pain in your body from how the poison sets in so rapidly. Blood drips out of your mouth as you cough and tears follow. He quickly drops down to your level and takes you into his arms as he hurriedly observes you. The look of horror soon turns into full-blown anger as he looks back up at the guest, who is now smiling evilly without saying a word.

“You-!”

His voice is laced with frustration and shock; though he wants to say more, nothing comes out of his mouth. You don’t ever remember seeing Aventurine this mad. How his eyebrows knit together and his eyes are illuminated with fury as he stares at the guest makes you mentally chuckle even in such a state.

“A fool should never interfere in the wiseman’s plans.”

The guest completely ignores Aventurine and looks straight at you while speaking before scoffing and walking away. Aventurine wishes to run after her but he reconsiders when you weakly stroke his arm to stop him. He looks back at you with a sad smile as he tries to help you.

“A-Aventurine-“

“Silly girl. What on earth made you do that?”

You foolishly smile back at him and attempt to take a deep breath which makes you cough harshly.

“You never trusted me…even at the moment you didn’t believe in me…” His eyes widen and he exhales slowly. You both had a rocky relationship since the beginning. In between the romance and intimacy, there was a gaping hole regarding the emotional connection and understanding of each other. The trust you had in each other wasn’t firm and he definitely didn’t trust you as much as you trusted him.

“I…”

He doesn’t know what to say. He’s still processing his emotions as his gaze flickers back and forth between you body and the spilled wine. Seeing you like this deeply hurts him but he knows he hasn’t been the best man to you. Had he had faith in you and listened to your intuition, would you still have ended up like this?

“Anything for you Aventurine…anything…even if you don’t love me as much as I-“

“Don't. Please.”

He had never lost a gamble or a bet. Everything and everyone in his eyes was a chip at the table, a token to take a risk with to go big or go home. But tonight, his favourite chip was at the losing end and nothing could turn the bet back into his favour. You can hear his rapid breathing as he calls for backup and help all while trying to keep an eye on you. He couldn’t appear weak, even in such a position, he couldn’t show others how tightly his fist was clenched underneath the table.

He continues to hold onto you tightly, shouting orders and clearing the crowd to get you medical assistance. His panicked voice is all you remember before your eyes shut close and your breathing becomes almost undetectable. – In a quiet corridor, away from the main hall of the hotel, the guest dials her top contact and patiently waits. Once the line connects, she exhales.

“The job is done.”

A small laugh is heard over the guest’s phone after she speaks. She can hear the loud rustling of papers and items on the man’s desk before he replies.

“Good.”

“Despite the memory loss induced in her, it seems she still hasn’t learnt her lesson.”

“Oh?”

“Same foolish woman. Even after such a tragedy her mind still does the same pattern of behaviour that got her in trouble.”

“She didn’t remember you at all, Sapphire?”

“No sir.”

“Good.”

A moment of silence follows. Sapphire inhales slowly, wondering if she should speak her mind. After all, she was the guest Aventurine had been talking too and just like him; another member of the Ten Stonehearts. Regardless of their differences of opinion, he was still a colleague.

“You have something on your mind. Say it.”

“Sir…what about Aventurine?”

“He won’t know a thing. Besides, what happened to that girl is none of his concern.”

“..right.”

The call ends with a click and the man sighs as he places the handset back into the receiver. Besides the telephone, his nameplate glistens on the table glitters like the very gem he is named after, a Diamond. He rubs his temples and frowns as he recalls your case from seven years ago.

“Looks like you have caught on our little trick, infiltrator of the IPC. You were found in the wrong time and the wrong place. Lucky for you, your forensic skills are too excellent to throw away.”

“Can’t answer me? That is fine. Besides, I have no choice but to cause a slight corruption in your memory. Such a shame, Sapphire and you would have made good friends. A little electric shock is all you’re going to need and we will overlook your charges.”

“Oh my, fighting back are we? Don’t worry, there will be nothing left to fight for once we are done with you.” ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇ ©mm-lurking 2024 do not copy, steal or reuse my work.

#honkai star rail #hsr x reader #hsr angst #hsr aventurine #aventurine honkai star rail #aventurine x reader #star rail aventurine #aventurine #penacony #aventurine hsr #honkai star rail x reader #hsr #star rail

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klovercrown · 6 months ago

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(18+) Bo Sinclair x AFAB reader x Mark Hoffman smut

Warnings: Reverse bear trap, spit kink, face slapping, tears, oral fixation

(This is my first time writing something on here, especially smut. There might be some grammatical errors and I'm not good with laying out text. It's also pretty long 🥲)

You're thrashing around with your legs kicking as Bo has you slung over his shoulder, making his way down into the basement. He ran his other hand up the back of your thigh to firmly squeeze your buttock, causing you to yell. The stairs disappear from view as he makes his way down into his lair, settling your body onto the surgical chair.

In front of you stood your two favorite men. Mark looked at you like he was thinking of a thousand different ways to torment you, and Bo with his signature smug smirk you always wanted to smack off his face.

"Careful with her." Mark said, emitting a huff from the other man. "She can handle it." Bo casually says as he steps closer to you, kneeling down to lean in close to grab your chin and make you look at him.

"Right, darlin'?" He whispered, causing shivers to run up your spine and a wave of arousal to hit you. Smirking at your reaction, he releases your chin and moves down to unbutton your pants, while Mark leans in to press his soft lips against yours. You softly moan as he devours your mouth with his, feeling Bo slip your bottoms off your legs.

A muffled moan came from you as Bo ran a finger along your covered pussy, teasing you and smirking to himself as he could feel how drenched you were. "What a slut," Bo muttered, grabbing a hold of the waistband and ripping your panties off of you. You immediately close your legs as you feel the cool air, only for Bo to roughly grab your legs and spread them.

You were so overwhelmed by Mark's rough mouth against yours and Bo massaging your wet folds that you didn't notice one of their hands grab the neckline of your camisole and rip it off like it was nothing, leaving you completely naked on the chair.

Mark moved his lips away before pressing a kiss to your cheek and moving down to your neck, causing you to arch your back from the feeling of his warm breath against your skin.

"I have something in store for you…" Mark says this against your skin, reaching to fondle one of your breasts. You cried out as he pinched and pulled on your nipple, feeling Bo slip one of his fingers inside of you. "I'm getting hard just thinking about it." Bo gruffly said as he slipped another finger inside of you, slowly pumping them in and out. You let out a string of moans, whimpering as you could feel his fingers stretch your wet core.

Bo kept his fingers deep inside of you as he moved to your side, glancing down at you with a hint of disgust. "Great. He slobbered all over your mouth, and I gotta clean it out." Bo complained, which earned an eye roll from Mark. "Shut up and hurry so we can get it ready." Mark said to Bo as he massaged one of your breasts.

As you were about to ask what they were talking about, Bo grabbed a fistful of your hair and pulled it back to where you were staring straight at the ceiling. Your eyes widened in fear as he leaned in, staring down at you as if you were a fresh piece of meat. "Open your mouth, sweetheart." You obeyed, watching him move his lips to gather a glob of spit.

Bo gripped your cheeks, making you whimper in pain due to how hard his fingers dug into the fat of your cheeks, and he spat into your mouth. You moaned as it landed on your tongue, tasting the nicotine from the cigarette he had while hunting for you. He let out a low groan at the sight of you, lightly smacking you on the cheek. "Little slut." Mark lowly said as he moved his hand down to your pussy, running his thick fingers along your wet folds. You gasped and were about to swallow the saliva in your mouth before Bo glared down at you. "Don't swallow yet, bitch." He commanded through gritted teeth before he moved his hand to your jaw, his middle and index fingers sliding to both sides of your bottom row of teeth.

You felt yourself gag a bit as he toyed around with your mouth more, feeling his saliva threaten to run down your throat. He used your jaw to pull you closer, using his fingers to jack your mouth open. With another glob of spit hitting your tongue, he gently pushed his fingers onto your tongue to push the saliva closer to the back of your throat. As Bo played with your mouth, you felt Mark's warm tongue lick around your clit as he fingerfucked you. Your moans were muffled, and you gagged around his fingers. He looked down at you with satisfaction, then back at Mark. He watched as Mark started to quicken his pace as his fingers repeatedly pushed deep inside of you. Your legs squirmed before he pinned them with his elbows, holding your thighs down.

His tongue and fingers drove you crazy; you could feel your arousal grow more and more as your body was lavished by the two men. Bo moved to kiss you hard, accidentally making you bleed from biting your bottom lip. He ran one of his hands to your face again, pushing his index finger into your mouth for you to suck on before smearing the blood-mixed, saliva-coated digit across your cheeks and lips.

Your moans become louder as you can feel your orgasm come closer and closer. It didn't help that Bo moved to torture your nipple with his fingers as well. Your stomach tightened up as your orgasm was about to wash over you before Mark cruelly pulled away, looking at you with a smirk. You whined at the loss, looking at the two men in confusion.

Nothing but pleads and whimpers left your mouth; pure desperation was in your voice. Bo caressed your hair as Mark went to one of Bo's work desks, bringing back a reverse bear trap in his hand. You knew about this contraption he's used before and how it usually ends. Mark could see the panic in your expression before leaning in to press a kiss to your hairline.

"Don't worry about it, sweetheart. This one is different." He calms you down as he lifts it to your view, turning it to the side to where you can see a small button next to the timer. He was about to explain before Bo interrupted. "You're gonna do the scary voice?" Bo said, clearly trying to piss Mark off. Mark side-eyed Bo, huffing through his nose in frustration. "I'm not doing that, asshole." Bo held up a hand to brush it off and played with your hair as Mark explained the functionality of the jaw-breaking trap.

Mark looked at the side of the head gear, pointing at the button. "This was specifically made for you. In case you want to stop whenever you want." He explains as he pulls a small black toy bullet from his pocket. "It's connected to this." You were still confused; most likely, your frustration from the stolen orgasm was making you dizzy.

Bo leans into your ear. "He's going to stick that into your tight pussy. Right when it slides in, the trap will lock in place and the timer will go off..." He says, clear excitement in his rough voice, as he takes pleasure in your scared expression. "…you have two minutes to cum, or it'll rip your fucking jaw open." The way he threatened you, even in this controlled scenario, made you even wetter. You nod in understanding, looking at the two men with half-lidded eyes.

Mark settles the head gear around your head, adjusting the metal piece to be inserted into your mouth. Bo bit his bottom lip at the sight of you; only your watery eyes were visible, and they stared at him and Mark like a pathetic dog waiting for its treat. He unzipped his pants, pulling his thick, hard cock out and grabbing your hand. You knew what he wanted—grabbing his shaft into your hand and stroking him. He quietly groaned as you teased the tip with your thumb, smearing his precum around the head.

Mark teased your pussy more, making sure you were wet and prepped. He looked up at you, the bullet in view in his hand. "Are you ready, sweetheart?" He asked, which earned an eager nod from you and a low groan from Bo as you squeezed his cock more. Pleased with your response, Mark quickly inserted the bullet into your hole and teased your clit. As you felt your walls tighten around the object, you felt pressure from the headgear as it tightened around your head, and the timer started to tick.

Tick…

The adrenaline hit you like a pile of bricks; it made your heart race, your breathing became more panicked, and your hands started to shake, which all made your pussy throb. This terrifying situation was so hot for you. Knowing that, even if it really wasn't life or death, your life was at stake for you to cum or not. Your whorish self would be the thing that could save you.

Tick…

Mark teased your clit with two fingers, making circular motions and slipping two fingers inside you with his other hand. Your hips lifted from the seat as you were getting overstimulated by his touch, whimpering with the metal piece muffling your mouth.

Tick…

Bo groaned and removed his cock from your hand, stroking it with his fist. "You like being tested for being a little fucking slut?" He asked harshly, rubbing the tip of his cock against the soft area around your nipple and muttering more obscenities toward you.

You let out a string of whimpered moans, keeping your hands at your sides to not risk angering either of them. As Mark kept fingering you, you felt your orgasm near once more. Throwing your head, you let the pleasure build up more and more to achieve your freedom. Until Mark slowed down his movements, making you practically scream underneath the headgear in desperation.

As the generous man that he is, he resumed his quick pace, fingering you and rubbing your clit. Bo beat his cock into his fist, aiming at your breasts. Your moans increased as your peak raced against the fast ticking, and you felt your thigh muscles tense as your orgasm washed over you. The ticking from the timer immediately stopped, and the pressure from the headgear loosened back up.

Mark continued pumping his thick fingers into you through it, quietly praising you. Bo let out a low groan as he released spurts of cum onto your breasts and chest, decorating your torso in pearls. As your body calmed down, Mark withdrew his fingers from you and smeared his wet-coated fingers on your inner thigh.

You weakly lifted your hands to remove the trap from your head, only for both men to grab your wrists. This was far from over.

(I might write full on sex for a next part, depends on how this one goes 🩷)

#slashers #slasher fandom #horror fandom #smut #House of wax #house of wax 2005 #Bo Sinclair #Saw #Saw franchise #Mark Hoffman #Detective Hoffman #Bo Sinclair x reader #Mark Hoffman x reader

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resowrites · 1 year ago

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Holy Grail - drabble.

Summary: Henry develops a fixation for a certain part of his pregnant wife’s body…

Pairings: AU!Henry Cavill x Wife!OC

Warnings: fluff, banter/British humour, sexy talk, language, dialogue heavy, nondescript OC body type/appearance, hastily written/lightly proofread.

WC: 635

A/N: My work must not be copied, reposted, or translated elsewhere. Likes, follows, reblogs and comments are thoroughly welcome and appreciated! Gifs/pics not my own. I hope you all enjoy and thanks for visiting!

Holy Grail - drabble.

"Whoa--"

"Henry, get out, I'm trying to get dry!" He quickly turned around as she grabbed the towel from the bed and clutched it to her chest.

"I'm sorry! I came in here to fetch Kal so I could give him his tea!" But the pooch was still fast asleep at the foot of their bed.

"Well you better get out of here before he wakes up, you know how protective of me he is at the moment."

"I know, the soppy git…"

"He's soppy?! You almost had a panic attack yesterday when you thought I ate shrimp! And he picked up following me into every room from you!"

"Yeah well at least I don't guard you when you're in the shower--"

"Well thank God for Kal, otherwise you'd be leering at me through the glass!"

"At least then I'd get a look at them! Come on, drop that towel, and lemme see if I can't tune in for the news and weather--"

"Out, now! I wanna get dry in peace."

"Then here, let me help…" Henry took a few steps forward only for her to dart under the bed so she could fetch something. "What the hell is the broom doing under there?!"

"I had to bring it up last night to squish a spider on the ceiling and now I'm going to use it to get rid of another pest."

"My lady may call me whatever she wishes. For she is beautiful, rich, and got huge… tracts of land!"

"That's it! I'm not enduring Monty Python quotes. You're banned from my presence the rest of the evening. Be gone!" She tried to jab with the broom only for him to dart out of the way.

"Aww come on, when was the last time we got to knock boots?"

"Last bloody night!"

"Then you should be warmed up by now!"

"God give me strength… anyway I thought you just wanted to cop a feel?"

"Well I'll take whatever I can get--"

"Yeah well by the time I'm finished with this broom, you'll be able to sweep the floor!"

"Charming, all I wanted was to enjoy the beauty of my pregnant wife! Honestly, it looks like you're holding up two ten-gallon hats--"

"God you belong on a bloody list… can't you go one night without being a pervert?"

"No, but I'll tell you what, you flash me lefty and I'll give you a hundred quid."

"A hundred quid?"

"Yeah, would you prefer cash or bank transfer?"

"Is that all you think I'm worth?!"

"Well, it's not like you're giving me a handful!"

"And how much would you pay for that? I was thinking of redoing the kitchen…"

"What? Why? I did a good job of the tiling!"

"Henry, two fell off just this morning!"

"Then let little Henry have a dance in your ballroom and I'll fix it for free!"

"Will you also disappear back downstairs?"

"God, you always want to get rid of me!"

"Yeah, cos you get on my sodding tits!"

"I bloody wish!" She looked up at the ceiling and prayed for guidance.

"Henry, give me one good reason why I should have sex with you tonight."

"I can do better than that, I can regale you with song."

"What?!" Henry cleared his throat.

"Every sperm is sacred, every sperm is great. If a sperm is wasted, God gets quite irate!" She perched on the edge of the bed with her head in her hands.

"I can't actually believe I'm having your child…"

"I can, especially after last night. Now get thee to bed, and let's go for round two--"

"Really? You're reciting Shakespeare now?"

"Well I thought that might do the trick--"

"Fat chance."

"Why not? I can leave the money on the bedside table--" she chucked a pillow at him.

To be updated on when I post please follow @resowrites and turn on post notifications.

@elizabetharegina @fanfictionaddiction99 @luclittlepond @caffeinatedfestivalsheep @summersong69 @ushijimbo @geralts-yenn @livesinfantasyland @jackjanira

#henry cavill #henry cavill fandom #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill imagine

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wordsbymae · 8 months ago

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The Fisherman Pt. 1

Continues from the prologue that you can find on my masterlist. I actually really struggled with this one, I have so many ideas of where to take it, that I couldn't really choose one consistent way of bridging it to where I want it.

The fog curled around the bay, seeping into the cracks and crevices of the island. You imagined the fog being devoured by the land itself, nourishing the barren, desolate rock you were forced to call home. The sky was near black, the sun suffocated by dark clouds. Rain pelted down, leaving harsh lines along the window you looked out from. You shivered in slight fear as the small house shook from a powerful burst of wind. The storm was frightening in its power, the lighthouse overlooking the bay failing to make a difference.

You felt nothing but disappointment.

Disappointed the fisherman was not amongst the waves. You had hoped his boat would have been dashed across the jagged rocks lining the cliffs. Instead, he made his presence known by the sound of his heavy footfalls up the old wooden stairs. He pauses for a brief moment at the last step, his weight shifting slightly. An audible creak lifting into the air. Your eyes were still trained solely on the waves crashing against the rocks. Even above the rain and wind, you could still hear the constant sound of the bay in all its chaos. You shifted your gaze from the bay to the fisherman's reflection. His sad, lonely eyes staring back at you. Almost as if he was willing you to turn around.

His mouth opens.

Then shuts.

He looks down back the stairs, weighing his options. He shifts his weight onto his back foot, the decision of leaving you alone silently on his mind.

You begin to left out a breath you'd been holding.

His weight shifts again, the creaking of the wood signalling your fate.

He begins to walk to you. You suck back in a breath, straighten your back and close your eyes.

He stops mere inches away from you. You can smell the salt on his skin and feel the heat he provides. In this cold, decaying house he felt like hell fire.

Your eyes remained shut, your ears listening to his shallow, frantic breaths, almost in time with the waves breaking on the rocks.

You open your eyes slowly, willing him to be gone. He stood silently behind you, eyes fixated on yours in the reflection.

"Will you come for supper?" he croaks, struggling to articulate each word. You struggle to remember a time you've heard his voice. Even before he took you kicking and screaming from your small village by the sea, you could hardly say you've ever heard anything from his mouth. Not even a whisper.

You turn to face him, eyes dull and lifeless. You could feel a dull ache in your belly, you imagined it was hunger. Though in the week you have been trapped within these walls, you failed to feel anything but despair. Not even the pains of hunger or the dryness of your throat for the want of water could compare to the growing emptiness within you.

You stare into his eyes. They unnerve you. So bright and cold. You remarked to yourself that they seem to be mimicking humanity rather than being of it. Looking into his eyes filled you with dread. You turned your attention back to the window, away from his soulless eyes.

"No thank you" you answer, keeping your voice level. His shoulders sag at the reply, you had been sitting at this window in the attic for hours now. Before that, the window in the kitchen. Before that, your eyes were focused on the ceilings rafters in your bedroom, counting each strand of the spiders webs swaying like flags in the breeze that floated into the house.

He sighs, disappointment flows across his face, before a dull spark of emotion makes its home on his face. You think for a second it is guilt or maybe just the way the rain on the window muddles his reflection.

You watch as his hand ruffles into his pocket, the same time another gust of wind pushes against the house. You don't fear it this time round.

His hand removes itself from the abyss it found itself in. You can't see what is inside his hand, only catching a bright glimmer of gold. It blinds you for a moment, until you blink, and the glimmer turns to nothing. He ponders for a moment, a finger plays around the edges of the small object in your hand.

"I have this for you" his voice is smoother this time, still harsh, but mellowed in its little usage. His face still looking upon the object. Eyes becoming focused purely on the motions he conducts with his finger.

He blinks slowly and lifts his gaze towards you.

You turn to face him, eyes slowly falling upon his open palm. He reaches it towards you in a silent offering. He needs not to say a word, the action screams loudly at you instead.

'Please, Please, Please, Please, Please'

Asking for what you don't know. You've tried to ponder his motives, his desires, but he never made them known.

A small golden ring laid upon his palm, a dark lilac gem sat amongst vines of gold, the gem catches the light with ease, another bright glimmer catches your gaze.

There is something about it, the craftmanship, the way light seemed to bend itself away from it, the cold that radiated from it. Without thought your hand inches towards it, hesitating just as you begin to grasp the metal.

You doubt his intentions, his motive behind gifting you this strange yet beautiful artifact. He stole you from your home, ripped you from your family, marooned you amongst a decaying house upon a desolate island. But as you gazed into the gem, the specks of gold, silver and lilac dancing in the light, the worries amongst your mind floated away, devoured like fog into the cracks of the island.

Before you truly comprehended what was occurring, the ring was slipped onto your left ring finger. You weren't even sure if it was you who did it.

Now nestled on your hand, it was warm, it felt like it had been there for years. But of course it does, because it had been there for years. Hadden it? The feeling of emptiness and despair lifted from you in a second, collected with your worries and floated away to be consumed. In fact, what exactly were you upset about? You know you had felt something, or maybe the absence of something. But it was gone, as if you were waking from a strange and unsettling dream. You admired the ring upon your finger, just as you lifted your gaze to admire your husband. He was so good to you, providing for you, protecting you. Because that is what husbands do, right?

The rain continued, even falling harder, the clouds finally succeeded in diminishing the last of the suns light, and darkness descended upon the bay. Yet, it was all perfect. The chaos and the violence of nature was so so so perfect. Everything was. Because of cause it was. You had your husband, your love, right in front of you. Everything would forever be perfect with him.

A bright smile broke across your face. You wondered for a brief second why it felt so unnatural. Oh well, these feelings come and go.

Your husband's face shone with delight at your display of emotion. A dry, flustered laugh began to emerge from his mouth.

"Do you love me?" he urged, hands rough from work gripping onto yours, thumb playing with your wedding band.

"Of course I do...um...husband!" you giggled back, stopping only to realise you have forgotten his name. How could you forget your husband's name? How embarrassing! Oh well, these things happen.

He allowed himself to finally laugh, a desperate, ugly display of pure joy. You laughed along side him, not understanding why he felt the need to display such a sight.

A feeling began creeping over you as he continued, you couldn't quite place it. It wasn't very nice though, it was harsh and almost wet in feeling, like your heart was being drowned under a roaring current. Your laughs began to mutate, from those of joy to laughs of fear, what was this growing inside you? It felt slimy and ugly, pushing out from within, like a creature desperate to be released. Tears began to flood your eyes. The pain of this feeling encompassed your body. Your husband still laughed, why couldn't he see your tears? Why didn't he feel this grip of dread that overwhelmed you?

Sobs began to rack your frame, breaths came out if huffs and gasps for breath, you didn't understand anything. Who was this man? Surely if you were married you would know him by name? Surely you would feel safe with him, but instead fear and sorrow encompassed the air you shared between you.

You looked down to your joined hands and a gleam of purple stopped your questions. The gleam grows, pulsating in beat with your heart, your cries softened, the feeling of dread and fear slowly slithered away, back down deep deep deep deep inside you.

You looked up. Oh! Your husband was looking at you, with...fear?

"Is everything okay husband?" you ask. Head tilting, tears drying upon your face. Had you been crying? Surely not.

"Yes, yes of course my love. Everything is absolutely perfect” he rushes, a smile lifting the corners of his mouth.

You smile back.

Everything is perfect.

#fisherman yandere #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yandere drabble #yandere prompts #fisherman oc #yandere fisherman #yandere x female reader #to be fair gender isnt mention like at all #but reader is canonically fem

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mostfandomfanatic · 1 month ago

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WIP Snippet/Teaser

Astarion x Raphael’s Daughter!Reader

Warnings: nsfw content, sexual assult, rape, blood, self harm

please let me know if I missed anything in the warnings

Also I’d love to hear some feedback!

The chains attached to your wrists rattle, echoing throughout the room as loud as the grunts and moans coming from the devil above you. You stare off blankly at the ceiling, tearing eyes fixated on the detailed mosaic tiles that you’ve grown accustomed to, their images your only escape. All you can do is wait for the man to finish as he continues to pummel himself into you with enthusiastic vigor.

With a loud groan and a final thrust, he was finally done. He ungracefully untangled himself from you, grabbing ahold of your chains and with a yank, forced you up. He pulled you off the bed with a sadistic grin, the silk sheets falling from your body, revealing your bare skin to the hot air. He dragged you down the steps towards the bath, where he settled down, tugging at the chains until you were sat in his lap.

“You were such a good girl for me.” he smiled wickedly, grasping your chin roughly in his fingers, forcing your face closer to his so he could plant a wet peck to your lips. He pushed your head away with a laugh. “So… malleable.”

He sighed with a satisfied smile and stretched his arms out to across the edge of the bath, relaxing in the rejuvenating water. His hooded eyes trailed up and down your body. Your body that was now covered in bites and bruises of his making.

You didn’t move, you weren’t allowed to move, not until he wanted something from you. You stared down into the water, waiting for a command, watching the water turn red.

You felt his hand land on your head, petting your hair, twirling a strand in his fingers. “You know, your father is a fool to share you. If you were mine, I’d keep you all to myself.”

You didn't react to his vulgar statement, or when his hand went down to your core, or when he slipped his fingers into you again.

The chimes of a distant clock ring out, and with an annoyed groan, he stood, dropping you into the water. He dried himself and got dressed, then walked out the door.

Just like that, he was done with you.

You climbed out of the water sat at the edge of the bath, drying off your body, gently around the bites and bruises. You grabbed at the fancy bottles of hair and skin oils until you found a soothing balm. You scooped out a coin size amount and rubbed it into a rather large bruise on the inside of your thigh.

Ripples in the water beneath you caught your eye. Another ripple, then a drop on your leg. Something wet runs down your chin to your neck.

You realized, you were crying.

You frantically wiped away the tears, afraid that someone might come in and see, but they didn’t stop. You sobbed, your hands shaking, your body shivering.

Your body felt dirty. Your skin felt wrong. Your scalped itched where his hand touched your hair.

Stop.

You pulled on the chains. You scratched at the bruises. You clawed at the bites.

Stop it.

Your sharp nails dug deep into your skin where he touched you.

Stop it!

The water beneath you turning red as blood drips from your arms and legs.

“Stop it!”

A voice screamed at you. A hand grabs your shoulder. You jolted away, turning to see who had caught you.

It was Hope.

Your only friend in the entire world, your world that is this house. The House of Hope.

Your cries muffle as you bury your face in your hands, shame filling in your chest. You didn’t want her to see you like this.

“You’re all right. It’s over now,” she said, placing a cautious hand on your shoulder. You shook your head, your cries becoming stronger.

You fear it will never stop. There’s a heavy, bitter feeling in your chest that tells you it won’t.

“It will get better. You must have hope, and already you do! I’m right here!”

You looked up at her from your hands, she was smiling warm and gently. You gave a meek smile back, before turning to stare into the red water, thick with your blood.

What have you done?

“Can-“ you pause, your voice hoarse from the cries that wracked your body, “can you help me?”

“Of course,” she replied softly.

She helped you run a new bath, then took the balm and began rubbing it into the bruises on your back. Her touch was gentle, motherly. The pain washed away, her touch healing all your bruises and aches.

“You're not supposed to use your powers like this,” you tell her, knowing that this wasn’t the first time she had done so, nor would it be the last.

“I know,” she says simply.

You lean your head back on her shoulder.

“Thank you,” you say softly.

“Anytime,” she said, smiling down at you.

~Thanks for reading~

I’m looking forward to when I actually finish this, it’s very different than anything I’ve written before

#astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion bg3 #astarion x f!reader #astarion x female reader #astarion x female tav #astarion x you #astarion ancunin x reader #astarion ancunin x tav

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nhasablogg · 5 months ago

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Heaven sent

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Characters: Reid, the BAU members

Summary: The team solves a case where the UnSub apparently tickled his victims before killing them. Reid is having a crisis about how something that makes him feel safe can be used for evil.

A/N: This is mostly introspective, but a bit of tickling takes place. I really enjoyed trying to involve most of the team in different ways. I hope you like it!

Warnings: Non-con tickling, mentions of murders, mentions of bondage, mentions of tickle kinks

Words: 4k

(Read it on AO3)

Reid couldn’t stop looking at the photographs. Gideon had warned him early on not to let himself get too caught up in visual evidence, unless he really thought his persistence would land them a solved case. “You’ll see a lot of things you’ll wish you didn’t,” he’d said, tilting his head at a 24-year-old Spencer Reid. “Don’t cause yourself unnecessary harm.”

He thought after so many years he’d mastered the art of this profession and knew when to switch to words on paper, or when to walk away entirely for a moment. Only he was entirely captivated now. It made him feel dirty.

He leaned back in his chair and took in the whole picture, which technically consisted of many smaller photographs of the lair where they’d found Stephen Miller after two days of searching. They’d known they only had another 24 hours to find the bar owner, who would otherwise turn up dead tied to a tree alongside the highway. The trees where the other four bar owners had been found had been far apart, as far apart as the individual bars had been, but the pattern had been easy to solve. Finding where William Harris, their UnSub, kept his victims before they ended up dead, had been the difficult part.

Reid ran a hand through his hair. The case was, technically, over. This was, technically, time to work on his report. One would argue he didn’t need visual evidence to compile something he’d written millions of times at this point, but no one ever questions his methods of working either. He could get away with this, and yet he jumped each time someone walked past the conference room. On edge. Feeling as if what he was doing was wrong.

“Jesus,” he mumbled to himself as he watched Hotch pass the room toward his office, their eyes briefly meeting before he disappeared out of sight. He pulled the file closer to him, pen still in his grip, only his gaze would not move from the photographs. On one, a chair where Stephen Miller had been tied, reminding Reid too much of his time with Tobias Hankel. He could, would he be questioned, blame this fixation on his kidnapping, only it wasn’t it and Reid couldn’t pretend to himself that it was. The case still lingered inside of him - probably always would - but this was a different issue. This was stupid and uncomfortable. He wasn’t sure how to feel.

He took a sip of coffee and shifted his gaze to the picture next to it. The handcuffs were on a single bed when they found Miller, but he’d said that they had been used to tie him in all kinds of ways. “The bed frame, the ceiling-” He’d cut himself off, as if the memories had overwhelmed him. They’d figured the rest out themselves.

“You see these marks here?” Prentiss had said, pointing to another chair than the one with the ropes installed to the armrests. “The back rest is all worn.”

Morgan had leaned closer, inspecting the chipping wood. “Almost as if his arms had been tied back with the cuffs and that he had struggled.”

“What’s his obsession with tying his victims in such elaborate ways?” Reid had asked, dragging his gaze through the whole room, which was big and dark almost like a basement. It was only much later that Miller had told them of the things Harris had done to him while tied up, which made all the cuffs and ropes and stocks make sense.

“You tickled your victims,” Hotch had said to Harris in the interrogation room. “Why?”

Harris had grinned, as if happy they’d finally caught on. “Why not? They’re laughing. They seem to like it.”

“Being tickled for prolonged periods of time without being able to defend yourself is torturous,” Hotch had countered and Harris had laughed for so long that they’d had to cut the interrogation short.

“He’s making them suffer without leaving marks,” Rossi had later said. “Well, other than the marks the ropes and cuffs make. It’s almost as if he’s taunting us. We could only really see what method he’d used to kill them. Had we not been able to determine when they’d been killed it would almost be as if he’d done it when he’d captured them.” He’d shrugged. “Three days of captivity and nothing to show for it. He fed them regularly.”

“He wanted them to have enough strength to struggle,” Hotch had said. “It was half the fun for him.”

Morgan had shuddered. “God, at that point just kill me already.”

Reid grabbed the photograph of the cuffs and put it at the far left of the table, exchanging it with one of the stocks. Harris had two sets. One for the feet only, and one which came with a seat for the victims where their hands could also be tied to the side, slightly above their heads. Enough for the blood to slowly trickle from their hands. Both of them had ropes for the toes to be tied, leaving the feet mostly immobile. “That must’ve hurt,” JJ had said quietly as they’d examined it. “I mean, none of this must’ve been comfortable, but that?”

Reid had nodded and refused to imagine it.

The need to control. Giving the victims no space to consent. Naturally. This was a serial killer. Reid had seen them time and time and again.

And yet.

“Hey kid,” Morgan’s voice suddenly said as he barged into the room. He probably just opened the door calmly, but Reid flew out of his chair anyway. “Woah, sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.” He was laughing, but Reid could sense the concern. “Just wanted to see if you wanna get lunch.”

Reid sat down again, heart hammering. “I’m not hungry.”

“Well, take a break anyway. The case isn’t going anywhere.”

He entered fully when Reid didn’t move, rounding the table to stand next to him. “I’m telling you. This can’t be healthy even for that genius brain of yours.”

Reid ducked his head. “I’m fine.”

“Reid, come on, what’s going on?” Morgan dropped into the chair beside him. “This case seems to be eating you up. It’s over. We solved it. We caught the UnSub and Miller’s alive and recovering.”

Reid shook his head. “My report’s not done.”

“It’s never taken you this long to complete a report. Something’s obviously eating at you.”

“I can’t explain it.”

“Could you try?”

Reid had two options here. Either he could keep avoiding the questions and inevitably have his teammates watch his every move for the next few days, or he could attempt to tell Morgan some sort of version of the truth. Neither option sounded very appealing. And flat out lying would be useless in the BAU.

He rubbed a hand over his face. “I just- I can’t let go of what that must’ve been like.”

“What?”

“You know. Their captivity.”

“You mean being tickled to half death?”

“I guess.” He sat up straighter. “Usually, when people get tortured, it’s not something I want to linger on more than I have to. But this case is different.”

“I guess you don’t really hear of tickle torture too much.”

Reid said it quietly, quickly. “Did you know it’s a kink?”

Morgan blinked. “Tickling?”

“Uh huh.”

“I mean, sure? I haven’t thought of it, but I’ve kind of realized most things can be kinks. I can imagine that being one. What, you think Harris had a thing for it?”

“I’m not sure. If he did it was in a very messed up way. I did some research on it. Consent must be a big part of it for it to work.”

“People consent to being tied up and tickled?”

“Or participating in more playful sides of it. There’s big emphasis on a safe word being involved.”

“So this guy was a creep who didn’t value that. There’s much more wrong with him than just that though. I’m sure he doesn’t represent them all.”

“I just can’t stop imagining what it’d be like to normally enjoy it and happen upon something like this,” Reid said, his voice low.

Morgan turned his body fully toward him. “That’s what’s bothering you? Reid.”

Reid didn’t reply. Reid didn’t know what to say.

When Miller had told them of the tickling, his first reaction had been to stiffen and then force himself to act normal about it. So much so that he’d missed key details and had had to ask Prentiss to repeat them afterward. She’d not asked, but had been obviously confused by it. Reid rarely missed things. Afterward he’d had to stifle his own emotions surrounding the method of torture enough to make it through the interrogation and final interviews before taking the jet back to Quanitico, where he’d then spent the past two days hunched over the pictures and unable to stop looking.

Of course his teammates would wonder. Of course it had been Morgan who’d asked first.

“Reid.” A hand on his arm, almost making him jump. “Is this about Tobias Hankel?” A valid question. Hankel had been the reason for his past behaviors many a time. Reid could so very easily pretend that was it. “Did he tickle you?”

He laughed. He didn’t mean to. “No. No, he didn’t. Everything simply- hurt there.”

“I can’t imagine being tickled like that doesn’t hurt though. But good. Okay. No tickling. So what then?”

“Imagine having something that makes you feel safe. And excited.” Reid grabbed the photograph of the handcuffs. “Imagine someone using it like that.” He turned toward Morgan for the first time since this conversation started. “I’m not saying any of the victims liked it. We established that that had nothing to do with it. But just- I don’t know.”

Morgan tilted his head. “You mentioned feeling safe. That’s not usually the first thing people think of when they think of more extreme kinks.”

“But it makes sense, doesn’t it? You have to really trust someone to do this, or any kinks that involve any type of strain to the body. There’s safety in that.”

“Does it- does it make you feel safe?”

Reid had known it would come. He wasn’t stupid enough to think Morgan wouldn’t have caught on. “I don’t know,” he answered honestly. “I’ve never tried it.”

“But you’d like to?”

“I don’t know.”

“Okay. Well. Let me put it like this.” Morgan moved back slightly, as if to not crowd him. “Was that something you did with your mom growing up?”

“Sure. Didn’t everyone?”

“Not everyone enjoyed it.”

Reid ducked his head. “My mother wasn’t very affectionate. She showed her love in other ways. It was rare, moments like those. What? You think I have a thing for it because of that?”

“Do you have a thing for it?”

“I don’t know.”

“Oh my god, Reid, okay.” Morgan was laughing. That was good at least. “Something obviously has caught your attention with this case. Something about tickling. It’s cool. I don’t judge. I can see why people would like it. And why this case would mess you up if you do like it. I reckon it’s not nice seeing something that makes you feel safe used like this.”

Reid was blushing now. He wasn’t usually a blusher. Morgan, to his credit, didn’t tease, although he did do a poor job of fighting back his grin.

“Well, now that we’ve established why you’re having a crisis.” He ruffled his hair. “Will you please come to lunch? I’m starving.”

Reid let out a laugh and nodded. “Yeah, sure, come on.”

Reid’s crisis didn’t get worse, but also didn’t go away. He finished his report and gave the photographs back to Hotch who put them where they belonged and didn’t ask him about why he’d kept them for so long. Morgan had, despite probably itching to do so, neither tickled him nor asked him about it again. Reid wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

There was a lot he wasn’t sure of to be fair.

He’d never considered tickling as a kink, nor was it something he got to experience often. But whenever he saw it, or whenever it was mentioned, he felt a jolt and a flush and then a feeling of slight comfort. It was strange. He’d tried not to linger on it. Until the case, of course. Now he couldn’t stop.

He didn’t regret telling Morgan, although it did make him feel somewhat weird that he was walking around with that knowledge before Reid could even figure it out himself. He didn’t think he would tell anyone else, but the thought of it sent him into a slight, unnecessary panic.

He truly had better things to do than to focus on this.

Hotch had shown him grace for approximately one week before calling him into his office. “You’ve been distracted.”

Reid shifted in his seat. “I’m sorry.”

Hotch raised an eyebrow. “So you know you’ve been distracted.”

“I do, sir.”

“Okay.” He nodded, reevaluating the situation. “I hope you’ll figure it out before the next case. We can’t afford that while on site.”

“It won’t be a problem, sir.”

They sat staring at each other for a second too long for Reid to think this conversation was over.

“Reid,” Hotch started, obviously hesitating. “Do you want to talk about what’s going on?”

Reid looked away. “I did with Morgan.” Universal sign of not being alone with this, which is probably what Hotch had meant.

“Did it help?”

“A little.”

“Is it serious?”

“No.” He shook his head. “Unbelievably stupid actually.”

“I doubt that.” When Reid looked at him he was almost almost smiling.

So he had to figure this out as soon as possible before more of the team started asking questions. Cool. He could totally do that.

Distraction. Distraction from the distraction was the first step.

“What are you doing?” He all but barged into Garcia’s room, stopping just enough to knock before trespassing on her territory. He must’ve done a poor job of sounding casual though because she blinked at him for slightly too long before answering.

“Why?” she added once she’d told him of her latest research.

He shrugged. “Just wondering. I haven’t seen you all week.”

“That’s sweet, but doesn’t sound entirely genuine. Although I don’t doubt your love for me, I think you have ulterior motives here.”

“So I need company. Sue me.”

“I can give you company, boy genius, you just have to ask.” She patted the chair next to hers. “But I might interrogate you about what’s going on, because something obviously is.”

He hesitated and sat down anyway. “I can’t promise I’ll answer,” he said, swirling the chair around twice before coming to a stop.

“Oh, but I have ways of persuading you.”

Reid imagined it could be one of her methods, but didn’t expect her to reach out for his ribs. He couldn’t ever remember her tickling anyone, let alone him, but maybe this was something people just did after knowing each other for a certain amount of time. He let out a surprised yelp at her sudden touch, too light and too skillful, and wondered briefly if Morgan had told her.

“No, no, oh my god, wait.” He tried to grab her hand but she simply used her other one to block him, turning it into a dance of some sort where Reid got tickled no matter how he moved. It had been years. It had been years. He didn’t know that his reaction to tickling was frantic squirming and that he would start giggling immediately. It was embarrassing. It was heaven sent. He didn’t know what to do with it.

“Do you give up?” she asked, her voice laced in a laugh and Reid felt something akin to joy in his chest from that alone.

“Yes, yes-” Although one part of him wanted to say no to not have this end, only he realized he couldn’t stand it. Would probably die had he been one of William Harris’ victims before any real violence would be done to him. The lack of an option of controlling when it would end, like he had now, because despite it all Garcia would stop once he really wanted her to.

It was too much.

Garcia must’ve seen something in his face when she backed off, because she didn’t push it like she’d said she would. Only gave his hand a squeeze and trusted that he would’ve told her if the tickling had crossed any lines.

Reid made no habit of breaking into places and so he didn’t do it effortlessly, although he was smart enough to not do it when Hotch was in. He tried to be casual about it, as if he had business going into his office, but he was on the brink of panic the entire time. He had no idea if the photographs were even in there, but he knew he needed to see them again, the real thing, despite his eidetic memory. Somehow he felt he couldn’t move on without them, but asking Hotch to see them was more than he could handle. And so he opened random drawers and tried not to look too much at their contents, which of course made his search harder than it needed to be.

“I’m not sure if I should be alarmed,” Rossi suddenly said from the doorway. Reid was somewhat not surprised it was him who caught him. Rossi and Hotch seemed kind of inseparable nowadays.

He straightened and met his gaze sheepishly. “Don’t tell him. Please don’t tell him.”

Rossi crossed his arms. “Maybe if you tell me what you’re looking for I’ll consider it.”

Dear god.

“The William Harris case. I’m looking for the photographs.”

“Shouldn’t your report be in by now?”

“Oh, it is. This is, uh, a personal matter.”

“I see. I’m sure Hotch would be happy to lend them to you if you asked. Unless of course you didn’t want him to ask questions, which in that case too bad I caught you because I for one love asking questions. Much more than Hotch.”

Reid’s gaze flickered to the door behind him, wondering if he wanted Hotch to arrive or not.

“He’s away for another half hour,” Rossi said almost gleefully, closing the door. “It’s just you and me, kiddo.”

“Look,” he started, unsure of how honest he should be. “This was a lack of judgment based on a very strange situation I’m not sure how to approach. I recognize it. It won’t happen again.”

“I’m trying to help you here. Something is obviously wrong if you want to revisit the case. Did you think we missed something?”

“No.”

“Will you use it for research?”

“Well, no, although it would be interesting now that you mention it.” He was being much too honest, he realized.

“Then what’s left?”

“Uh. Personal interest?”

“In a serial killer? Or is it his method of choice that intrigues you?”

Lie, Spencer Reid, Jesus Christ. “Something like that.”

“I mean, it is fascinating,” Rossi said, launching into work mode. “He seemed to have no more interest in it other than to torment his victims. Usually there’s sexual interest involved. I can see how this would interest you.”

“Me specifically?”

He squinted at him and Reid wished he’d never spoken. “Everyone. Anyone.”

“Right.”

“Spencer.” Rossi was the only one who almost always called him Spencer at this stage of life. It made him feel strangely warm.

“I can’t let the case go,” Reid said in response. “And I think I need to look at it all again to maybe get some closure. I can’t tell you more.”

Rossi didn’t ask for more either, although Reid felt certain he understood. Even if he himself barely did.

Apparently it was JJ who’d been keeping the photographs. She handed them over to Rossi with a questioning look at Reid who was hiding behind him, feeling like a child. “You’ll get these back tomorrow,” Rossi said without consulting Reid, who would be fine with anything over thirty minutes honestly. “Thank you.”

“No problem,” she replied. “Just leave them at my desk when you’re ready.” She wouldn’t stop looking at Reid, who did his best to appear casual.

Reid didn’t take them home even though he easily could’ve. Instead, the conference room, pictures spread out over the table once more, only this time he’d locked the door and had his back turned to it and the windows, allowing himself to dive into this fully. One last time. One last chance to figure out how he felt about this all. This time with Garcia tickling his ribs in mind. This time allowing himself to feel.

These were the facts: William Harris tickled his victims during the three days he kept them captive before killing them as some sort of power trip where no physical evidence would be found other than the marks from the bondage. He clearly had a thing for bondage, what with all the different tools and methods used to tying them up, although he seemed less fixated on the tickling. At some point, maybe while keeping Stephen Miller in his lair, he decided to start tickle torturing his victim. Nothing suggested he’d done that to the remaining bar owners he’d killed. Perhaps Miller had just been ticklish enough that he’d noticed. Who knew what else he’d been doing to him before settling on that, or what he’d been planning. At the end of the day he’d been caught and that didn’t matter too much, especially since Miller wasn’t up for saying much else, partly due to how raw his vocal cords were after all the laughing.

These were also facts: Reid felt weird about tickling being used like this. Possibly because he kind of enjoyed it although he wasn’t entirely sure due to a lack of experience. But the case had hit him like a truck, leaving him dazzled and uncomfortable. He was aware that tickling was a disliked activity that many found torturous, as well as something that helped people bond in a playful way. He knew it was also kink. He knew not everyone who got tickled liked it. He knew a case like this couldn’t be unique.

But it didn’t sit right with him. He didn’t like the thought of it at all. The lack of consent. The fear and humiliation instead of trust and giddiness. He was certain it tickled like crazy even if you consented to being tied up and tickled. He looked at the photographs and didn’t find a single trace of ease, because why should he? Harris didn’t aim for ease and comfort. He wanted to torment and taunt.

Was Reid weird for enjoying something that could be torturous? Or was the UnSub merely being evil by using something like that for, well, evil?

God, he was going insane.

A knock on the door startled him out of his thoughts, not entirely unwelcome. Reid sat still for a moment before standing to unlock it. “Emily.”

Prentiss was holding two cups in her hands. “One for you. I figured whatever you’re doing you could need some fuel.”

He accepted the coffee gratefully. “I hadn’t realized it, but this is exactly what I need. Thank you.” When he turned around he expected her to follow, but she remained in the doorway. “You can come in if you want.”

She peeked over at the table. “You sure? You seem kind of busy.”

“I’m mostly done I think.”

“Did you find what you were looking for?”

“I’m not sure.”

She entered, her own cup in her hand. “Well, that’s life sometimes. It’s part of the job, whether we like it or not.”

They sat. Reid took a sip and tried to accept what she’d said. That it was sometimes okay to not have it all figured out. By the end of it, when he returned the photographs to JJ, he was almost okay with that.

#tickling #tickle fic #ticklish!spencer reid #criminal minds fic #n writes #heaven sent

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harmonyrae · 2 months ago

Text

Power Couple

CHAPTER 3 - Introductions

Concept: AU of how Sylus & you (reader) met. Both are leaders of large factions in the N109 Zone, Onychinus (Sylus) and Himitsu (you). They have been cutting into your territory over the past few weeks, so you decided an introduction is required. You laid the trap and Sylus walked right into it. But this is just the beginning...

Your fingers run along the bars. You survey the lock and the evol suppressor beacons, breathing in the scent of fresh paint. This room was your masterpiece. You were waiting for the opportunity to use it for nearly 2 months. A huge metal cage sitting in the center of the room. A metal chair chained to the floor sits inside. The lock, both mechanical for a physical key and a print scanner, sits square on the heavy door. Three large evol suppressor beacons hang from the ceiling facing the cage. Whoever sits inside would have no access to their Evol. A large black recliner sits outside the cage. A carpet with an intricate floral pattern sits beneath it. You’ve referred to it as your throne as a joke, but tonight, it will be. You can’t suppress your smile.

The thick door in the far corner of the room swings open slowly. Dorian enters the room with hastened steps.

“It’s time.”

You never attend operations. You plan them and deal with the aftermath, but never get your hands dirty. Tonight that changes. You lean your head back against the headrest. You’ve been sitting in this car for nearly 10 minutes waiting for Dorian’s signal.

Blackburn Bar sits before you. Dorian and your team secure the building and you’ve already heard the sharp pop of a silenced handgun in the alley to your right. Your earpiece filled with confirmations as one-by-one, the men Sylus placed around the bar are taken out. You spot Dorian on the roof of the bar, setting up the signal blocker. Sylus won’t be able to call for backup or communicate with anyone for that matter.

You check your golden watch, allowing your fingertips to trace the diamonds circling the face. It’s 10 minutes past 8pm and your heart is pounding in your throat. The bracelet sitting beside the watch faintly glowing. You’ll keep your word on the evol suppressor, not that it works on you or that you’d even need to use your evol with how many men you have stationed around the bar.

“Green light.” Dorian whispers through the earpiece.

Your door opens and you gingerly step out. Pulling your coat tighter around your shoulder as you walk toward the entrance of the bar.

Ding Ding

The chime of the bell above the door rings to signal your entrance. You glance around the empty bar silently. Your eyes land on a single figure, casually leaning against a billiards table at the back of the bar. You let your eyes drift from his sleek dress shoes, to his pressed suit pants, the fitted button up closed in by a dark suit jacket adorned with swirls of red draped over him. His broad shoulders look even more impressive with the jacket hugging him tightly. His hand holds a glass of whiskey, he swirls the liquid slowly. The ring on his middle finger glowing faintly - his evol suppressor it seems.

You dare to start your slow walk towards him, hearing your heels click on the tile beneath you. Your eyes never leave the shadowed figure.

Your eyes fixate themselves on his chest, the top buttons of his shirt undone, then you’re staring at his face. You realize his eyes are staring right back at you. You don’t stop walking and you hold his gaze. You take in his breathtaking features. A smile tugging at one corner of his mouth. Your eyes drift up to his eyes, somehow dark and bright at the same time. They shine like rubies in the dim lights of the bar. His silver hair swept across his forehead, shielding part of one of his eyes, which you swore looked to be glowing.

Your eyes dip back to his lips. Still set in a smirk. Your thoughts hone in on how smug he looks and how much you are looking forward to ripping that confidence from him. Then another thought invades your focus. His lips look so soft. You suddenly remember his voice from the phone call earlier that day and you try to blink away the heat rising to your cheeks. That voice, passing those lips. You bite the inside of your cheek. You plan for everything, but somehow, the one thing you did not plan for, was how to react if your rival was one of the most attractive men you’ve ever seen.

You’re finally close enough to him now, you smile sweetly. Taking in how much taller he was compared to yourself. He sets his glass on the table, still never taking his eyes off of you.

“How many of my men did you take out before finally deciding to stroll in here?” His voice, that deep rumbling voice, still confident as ever.

“All of them. But I’m sure you figured as much.” You’re surprised how smooth your voice sounds. You were sure there would be a twinge of panic or a stutter in there somewhere.

“I’m impressed. I really didn’t expect Hunter to be late. Or should I say, "Miss Hunter.”

You can’t contain your smile anymore. You’ve been waiting for this moment for years. You’d practiced a speech for the first person to receive the revelation. But realizing he had connected the dots on his own in the short walk you made from the door sent chills down your spine. To hear “Miss Hunter” - you couldn’t put words to the feeling. Proud. Satisfied. Content. All of the above. You slip your coat off your shoulders and lay it on the booth next to you.

“Y/N.”

“Y/N.” You watch his lips form your name, it was mesmerizing. But hearing him say it, you had to break eye contact for a brief moment so he wouldn’t see your eyes light up. Your name sounds so good when he says it.

“And you’re Sylus. The infamous leader of Onychinus.”

“Infamous? I think ‘notorious’ is a more fitting description.” There’s that cockiness again. Oh if you could only kiss that smirk - wait, no no no - if only you could wipe that smirk off his face.

You’re becoming acutely aware of your body temperature rising. You unbutton your blazer in an attempt to cool yourself. You straighten your shoulders and move closer to him. Realizing your face hadn’t been illuminated fully until now. For a second, you see his eyes widen slightly. His eyebrows raise and his smirk falters. It’s only for a second, but you saw it. And it’s already been filed away in your mental notes. You can overthink later, right now you need to be the leader of Himitsu. You need to make sure your plan plays out perfectly.

You stand directly in front of him, nearly drowning in those ruby eyes before flipping the switch.

“I think I prefer “former,” personally.” You tuck your hands in your trouser pockets and shift your weight between your feet. Back and forth. A method of self-soothing, your anxiety was building, or was it your confidence? You weren’t sure.

“Are you planning to kill me, Miss Hunter?” For the first time, his eye contact breaks. His gaze falls as he scans your body before locking back to your eyes once more. You can feel your chest and cheeks growing hotter. You try your best to mask the fluttering in your chest.

“Oh that wouldn’t be nearly as fun, sweetie.” Your voice is deep and clear. You surprise yourself, but you’re proud. You did it.

Sylus hits the floor in a thud. The tranquilizer darts scattered across his chest. You’re almost sad that you can’t stare at those crimson eyes anymore. A faint red and black mist circles his hand slowly before dissipating in what seems like defeat.

Dorian stands beside you now. His eyes set on you, bright with amusement.

“You okay boss? You look a little…” You clasp your hand over his mouth in one swift movement.

“Get him to the cage.” You drop your hand revealing Dorian’s smile. You grab your jacket and stride to the door of the bar. You turn on your heel and look back at him.

“And turn the beacons to max. His evol is…” You have no idea how to describe what you felt. Evol suppressants don’t work well on you, you can resonate with any evol, but what you sensed was something different. You’re not even sure you could resonate with whatever is contained within the man now laying in a heap on the floor.

“It’s different.” That’s the only way you can describe it. Dorian nods. Turning to work with the other men who have arrived to secure Sylus.

You leave the bar and climb into the car at the curb. Immediately hitting the switch on the ceiling to close the barrier between the driver and the passenger area. You catch your driver's gaze, he throws you a knowing wink before the screen completely closes. Harvey was used to you needing to have a moment of privacy while he drives you around the zone. He once drove around for 3 hours to let you nap undisturbed.

With the screen closed, you tear off your blazer and aim the car vents at your face cranking the air conditioner to the max. You open the mini cooler under the seat in front of you and pull a mini bottle of champagne out. You rip off the cap and drink it quickly, the bubbles burning your throat. Your stomach is still doing back flips. You look out the window, the tint so dark you only see your reflection.

“I am not going to let this man get under my skin. I have worked too damn hard to waste this opportunity just because he is attractive. I will not…” Your determination drifting away as the echo of Sylus saying your name floods in your mind.

This is going to be more complicated than you thought.

Words: 1,645

Chapter 1: https://shorturl.at/Bx95C Chapter 2: https://shorturl.at/3PwTi Chapter 3: https://shorturl.at/a7xnF Chapter 4: https://shorturl.at/fKYgX

Tag List (comment if you wanna be added!): @trishiepo0

#love and deepspace #alternate universe #angst and fluff #minor violence #slow burn #eventual smut #mafia trope #sylus (love and deepspace)#sylus x mc #sylus x you #sylus smut

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heartilywrites · 3 months ago

Text

،، 𝒮o this is love ; Korra

< back to part 1

request guide | masterlist

resume: where a single ball changed your life.

content warning: a shit ton of fluff ; angst if you squint your eyes ; Korra x fem!reader ; description of eye color ; r is the fire nation's princess and a blue firebender ; no use of y/n

wc: 2.5k

a/n: this one is the most agonizing fluff i've ever written, has to be my favorite so far. ENJOY :D

" I can see you're scared of your emotions, I can see you're hoping, you're not hopeless. So why can't you show me.ᐣ

The mattress springs sounded once, twice, even three times in less than a minute when you turned again over yourself. Four nights had passed since the ball hosted by your family and your mind was still replaying the short time the mysterious girl and you shared together.

Korra, her name has been resounding in your brain, scratching it in such a way that it was almost impossible for you to forget it.

You’d thought of looking for her, of course, but how would you explain to your parents that you wanted to look for a girl you met at the ball? How would you tell them you needed to go to both Water Tribes to ask if there was any girl with an important rank named Korra? You always liked to keep things to yourself, so telling them about your feelings for the girl was completely out of the table. So that was your life at the moment, sleepless nights and endless days always thinking over and over again about Korra; what you would never know was that she was living the same way as you.

Your name made echo in Korra’s mind when you introduced yourself and since then, she had been repeating it like a broken record while looking at her ceiling. Wondering how you’d look without your mask, if your eyes would shine the same way your smile did, if your hands on hers felt softer… Warmer in a peaceful ambience, if they would fit perfectly with her hands when holding them, if you would feel complete when she was holding you in her arms. The avatar was doomed and her friends knew it the minute everyone came back from the ball, she was deeply in love with a complete stranger.

Unlike you, Korra did try to look for you since the morning after the event. Asking for Asami’s help, saying how it was important to her finding you, but was met with her avatar duties holding her back from her search. Grudgingly she did as expected, fulfilling her tasks like it was nothing and leaving satisfied people.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “General Iroh asked if we could attend the Fire Nation, he said he needs help with…” green eyes narrowed, Bolin frowned. “I can’t understand his letter, what does it say here?”

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Agh, can’t they just stop requesting us for some days? I need to do some important shit.” Korra pulled her face down a bit with both hands, Asami giggled funnily at her reaction.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Come on, Korra, this could help your super important investigation.” the girl next to her said. “Didn’t you say your impossible love was from the fire nation?”

The southerner straightened up quickly on her seat, as if she just recalled something and smiled big.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “You’re so right! We need to go!” suddenly Korra had recovered all her energy. “Asami, set course to the Fire Nation! We have an important meeting to attend!”

And so the group set course, by night the airship used for transportation had landed at the palace zone of the Fire Nation.

At the descendance of the team they were met with the royal family welcoming them to the place. Korra smiled and bowed to everyone, her eyes stopped at your sight; she knew about the princess descendant of Azula, but she had never seen her or heard her name, so it was certain she didn’t know who you were… However, there was something about you that called for her whole attention. Your own eyes fixated on the floor, praying that the whole thing would pass quickly so you could go back to your room to fantasize about your crush.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Princess,” Iroh called you a second time, making you snap back to the present. You looked at him who pointed with his head. “They’re introducing themselves.”

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “I’m really sorry,” you said, Korra tilted her head a little. “Welcome to the palace, avatar… Guys. I hope you find it comfortable here.”

Your voice sounded different from what she heard at the ball, the one you used at that moment was deeper, more formal, so Korra couldn’t recognize you just by that and you by yourself were too distracted to analyze the voice of the avatar. When your eyes were wandering along the four new members, they stopped at the avatar; warm eyes despite them being cold tone colored, they resulted familiar and at the same time foreign to you.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “The princess and general Iroh will show you to your rooms so you can settle and rest, tomorrow we can talk about what is needed. You’ll be notified when dinner is ready.” the Fire Lord decreeted making everyone nod.

At first everyone was silently following your cousin and you, but it was the firebender that came with the avatar who broke the silence wanting to chit chat with the general. Everyone moved to where they felt at ease while still walking, Korra went ahead to take Iroh’s place beside you so she could talk with you.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Hey,” she greeted with a smile, you corresponded with one of your own in a shy way. “I’m sorry if we arrived on a bad time, general Iroh called for us suddenly.”

You shook your head softly. “It’s okay, avatar, no need to worry. We… Well, they’re in need of your help after all.” the girl giggled a little bit, your heart skipped a beat to the sound, how? “I’m sure you guys will find it relaxing too, we have lovely areas to be on when you want to be alone.”

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “So I’ve heard,” she continued, nodding. “And seen, you have gardens around here, don’t you? A beautiful one next to the events salon.”

Amber eyes blinked in surprise. “We do… Have you visited the palace before?”

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Kind of, I was-” the girl got interrupted by the earthbender calling for her. “Oh, uhm, excuse me.”

Another nod from you letting her jog to her friends who were choosing their rooms. Your eyes now fixated on the avatar, Iroh walked to you catching you distracted and followed your gaze with his own.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Are you getting along with the avatar?” he asked you, making you now look at him, a smirk was painted on his mouth making you roll your eyes.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “She’s nice, I guess.” you shrugged. “But we don’t know if she likes me, the rumors are still out there, who knows if she heard them.”

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Trust me, if she had, she wouldn't let them influence her judgment without knowing you.” Iroh tried to assure you, making you sigh and turn to the girl once more.

For dinner you had asked to be excused and allowed to eat by yourself in your chambers, saying how you were making an important task asked by your tutor so you totally missed the joint meal.

Passed bedtime, you found yourself once more thinking about the masquerade ball and decided maybe if you went back to the garden now that the avatar had reminded you maybe you could find comfort. Walking up to the bench where the girl and you passed time, you saw a lantern light that made you frown in confusion.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Oh, Your Highness!” the avatar exclaimed as surprised as you, like she was the one not expecting you to be there.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Avatar,” you greeted back with a nod. “What are you doing here?”

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Well, I remembered back in the ball which bench I sat on and had such a beautiful view that I needed to see it again.” she smiled; what a weird coincidence, you thought. “You don’t mind if I stay here, do you?”

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Not at all, they’re public after all.” you answered, she made space for you to sit and so you did. Looking up at the sky you allowed yourself to relax under the bright moonlight where you found comfort. “Such a beautiful night.” you spat out of nowhere.

Korra’s eyes widened a bit and turned to you, blue sky colored orbs analyzing your profile. Her mind started to wonder. “Gorgeous, I would say.” she murmured back, almost as if she was hypnotized.

You blinked for a couple of seconds, trying to register the deja vu you just felt and turning to the avatar you were met with her eyes. It all suddenly felt as if you already lived that scene, like you were back to the masquerade ball… And the realization hit the both of you so sudden like a bucket of cold water dropping on you. It was her, she was the girl at the ball.

Your eyes widened at the moment, panicking on not knowing what to do.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Your Highness-” Korra tried to talk, to get your attention, but you standing up interrupted her.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “I’m sorry, avatar, I need to leave now.” just as that night, you shook your head at the weird feeling of repeating the scene.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “No, wait!” she tried to make you stay, but your own feet were faster to make you almost run back to your chambers while Korra screamed for you, calling you by name.

Your heart felt like it wanted to escape from your ribcage, your whole world felt like it was moving down your feet.

You had the thought that if you found the girl again, it would feel as if everything was complete, but all you felt was anxiety, denial… You felt fear. Fear of her not wanting anything to do with you, fear of her believing what was said about your part of the family, but overall fear of having your heart broken when she realizes that being with you meant disrepute to her title. The avatar with Azula’s granddaughter? A scandal anyone would prefer to avoid.

By morning, Korra woke up early and started walking around the palace in hopes of bumping into you. She didn’t know where your favorite places were or what your daily routine was. Maybe she would’ve lost herself in such a big infrastructure, but it didn’t matter to her. She wanted… No, she needed to talk to you.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Your Highness!” her voice stopped your steps, chills running down her spine. You looked over your shoulder to make sure it was her and at her sight, you started to walk faster; the avatar called your name a couple of times. “We need to talk, I need to talk to you!”

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Korra, please!” your voice had a begging tone. “There’s nothing we need to talk about. Our encounter was purely a one night thing, I know what you’ll say.”

Even if you weren’t looking at her, she had an offended look on her face. How could you say that? She knew you felt the same way she did that night alone.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “But you don’t,” she said again, now you frowned with confusion and turned completely her way. “There’s not a single person in this world that could know what I’ll say to you or even think about you, because my feelings are my own and I get to decide who gets to know them.”

You hesitated before putting your hands behind your back. “Alright… Go ahead, avatar.”

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “I get what you mean by what you said and also get your actions,” she began, taking slow steps your way. Like a predator walking towards its prey. “But you have to believe me when I tell you that I couldn’t stop thinking about you since that night.”

Fire colored eyes fought against iced colored ones, like wanting to prove dominance, but Korra’s eyes were soft, inviting you to let your guard down.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “And I am aware of what they say about you and your family,” a small grimace showed on your lips, she shook her head. “I can totally tell you right now, I don’t care about it, at all. That night you allowed me to see you for you, the real you everyone dismisses and take as a facade; I know why you didn’t tell me right there you are the princess, it’s the same reason why I didn’t tell you I am the avatar: we wanted a real connection, one were at least one person didn’t judge us by our title.”

Your hands were playing now with the pieces of lace your robe had on the sleeve, Korra was now at least two steps away from you.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “If you allow me to show you appreciation, kindness, even love, I promise you’ll get what you had always deserved. What is per title yours, please, princess, let me be part of your life… You have already latched into mine and I think if you say no right now I will be in shambles.” she finished with a little giggle, her eyes never left yours and now your own were starting to tear up.

There was no way that could be real, could it? A big part of you believed every single word the avatar just said to you, but there was still a small amount of your being telling you that it could be a trap, a cruel trap against you and your feelings. But how would you learn about those romantic feelings if you didn’t allow yourself to feel? To trust someone, to let yourself fall in love for once.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “I’m scared,” you whispered when you noticed how she was just centimeters away from you. “I’ve never felt like this.”

Gingerly, the southerner’s hands cupped your face tenderly. “I swear, I won’t hurt you, I would never hurt you if you give me that chance to give you my heart and all my affection, Your Highness.”

There wasn’t a verbal response to what she said, you let for once your impulse guide you and your lips crashed hers in an inexperienced kiss, but it was sweet. You could feel the girl smile under your lips, she then took the lead for the gesture, just when your lungs were crying for air did you pull away from her and a small shy smile was given to her, Korra gifted you a big one, so bright that you knew the sun could envied her.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “I told you, you were going to like her.” Iroh’s voice caught both of you out of guard and turned to him. A general smiling big still in his pajamas was standing in one of the halls. “Indirectly, I’m like cupid, am I not?” You fought against your impulse to burn him, Korra just giggled happily.

#the legend of korra #the legend of korra x reader #korra x reader #avatar korra #korra x you #korra x fem!reader #korra fanfic #tlok #one shot #request

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