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starcrossedmusings · 3 months ago

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Pretty Hands

Pairing: best friend!Yunho x f!reader WC: 3.2k Warnings: eventual smut, reader has a thing for Yunho's hands (who doesn't??), swearing, fingering, choking, a little bit of degradation (he compares her to a whore literally once), PRAISE so much praise, Yunho talks reader through it (you're welcome), pov is kinda all over the place just let it be, Yunho is absolutely WHIPPED for reader teehee, probably some other things that I missed (let me know)

Summary: You and Yunho have been friends for years, and you tell each other everything. He suddenly takes a much more vested interest in your love life when you can't stop mentioning your newest interest.

A/N: This is entirely self indulgent and also I just wanted to get something full posted. The Phantom fic is turning out to be much longer than I originally anticipated (and so did this one once I started writing it). Let me know what you think♡

Stepping into Yunho's apartment had always felt like coming home, and today was no exception. You take your shoes off in the tiled entryway and pad your way through the main living area, calling out to him as you walk.

"Yun? I'm here!"

His muffled response flows down from the end of the hall, "Bedroom!"

You make your way through the back hallway and enter his room, finding him exactly where you thought he would be, focused in on his computer. There's a selection of empty drink cans and snack wrappers scattered around his desk, which tells you that whatever he's currently building on Minecraft has probably occupied the majority of his day so far. He pauses the game and turns his chair to face you.

"Whats up?"

"Got bored at home and my roommate isn't even trying to muffle her pornstar moans for her new boy toy."

Yunho barks out a laugh, "Does she seriously sound--"

"Just like it Yun I can't make this shit up. I'm starting to think maybe they're recording themselves in there."

Yunho wiggles his eyebrows as he stretches his arms up and over his head, leaning back in his chair. "Well, if I ever see your living room on Pornhub I'll be sure to let you know"

You crinkle your nose. "Ew. I do NOT need to know that."

"Whatever, don't act like you haven't been talking to me for weeks about how horny you are. If I have to hear about your vibrator dying one more time I'm gonna buy you a new one myself."

"You try getting unintentionally edged three nights in a row with a full charge, it's some bullshit Yun. Besides, I'm allowed to complain about my dry spell."

Yunho scoffs, tone playful and lighthearted. "Dry spell? It's been what? Two months?"

"It's been three thank you very much." You move to sit on his bed.

"Well some of us haven't had sex in much longer."

"Oh, please, that girl that San was messing around with was all over you at his birthday party last month, don't tell me you didn't take that opportunity."

Yunho raises his eyebrows in shock, leaning forward in his chair. "Wait, really?"

"Oh my GOD Yun you are so oblivious. Yes really. She was all giggly and twirling her hair and shit. That's like...girl flirting basics."

"I am not oblivious, I am actually quite observant. I could tell you things about yourself you don't even know. I just have my sights set on someone and that someone is not her."

You shoot him an incredulous look and snort out a laugh, leaning back to lay down completely on his bed, legs dangling off the edge. "Sure Yun, whatever makes you feel better."

You hear Yunho stand from his chair and feel his weight shift onto the mattress. He appears in your vision, a challenging playful sparkle in his eyes as he peers down at you. "Okay, fine. I can tell that you're trying out a new perfume, you just went shopping because your leggings are a different brand than you usually wear, and I know that you washed your hair last night because you're wearing it all the way down today."

You do your best to ignore the way your stomach summersaults at his attention to detail about you and your routines. You roll onto your side and prop your head up on your elbow, matching his challenging gaze. "Okay Sherlock Holmes. What kind of underwear am I wearing then?"

Yunho pauses to consider before responding "a thong, probably black." You grin triumphantly and lean in just a bit closer.

"Wrong. I'm not wearing any. You lose!" You stick your tongue out playfully at him and he swats your shoulder, falling back onto his mattress.

"You set me up!"

"Face it Yun, I'm just better than you."

"Yeah yeah, whatever" Yunho pouts, voice hightening slightly from surprise. He can feel a slight redness creeping up his ears and prays his hair has grown long enough to cover it. 'I'm not wearing any.' He clears his throat. "So why go commando? You finally planning to seduce your new conquest?"

"He is not a new conquest, he doesn't even know I like him."

"He will once he knows you aren't wearing any underwear for him" Yunho jokes, smiling cheekily. You smack at his chest.

"I didn't want to do laundry last night, asshole. Get your mind out of the gutter!"

"You're one to talk" he mutters under his breath.

You sit up fully and reach for one of the pillows at the top of his bed, slamming it down on his face. "Jeong Yunho I swear to god!" On your second swing, he manages to catch the pillow with one hand and pry it from your grasp, but not before giving you an entirely unhelpful image of his long fingers gripping the plush material.

"What?? All I ever hear you talk about lately is how tall and handsome this dude is and how much his hands make you drool."

"You sound jealous."

"I'm not jealous, I'm pissed that I have to hear all about him and don't even get to know what the dude's name is."

"I told you, I'm gatekeeping this time. You run your mouth too much."

"I do not!"

"Do too."

"Ugh FINE whatever," Yunho chucks the pillow back towards you and you dodge it, leaving both pillows on one side of the headboard, "You're so agitating."

"You know you love me Yun. But just for the attitude," You adjust both pillows and shuffle your way back until you're leaned against both of them, "no pillow for you for tonights doomscrolling session."

He huffs a laugh and scoots up to meet you, pulling out his phone and settling in against the headboard.

An hour later you get up to go to the bathroom, and when you get back Yunho has stolen both of his pillows. You frown and cross your arms. "Hey, asshole, those were mine!"

"Yeah?" He taunts playfully, "Well they were mine to begin with, and my back is killing me. So deal." You roll your eyes and cross back over to the bed, crawling over the side you've been sitting on and curling yourself into Yunho's side to rest your head against his chest. You feel him tense slightly underneath you before he moves one of his arms around your shoulders to let you lay more comfortably.

"There's no way in hell I'm sitting up against that cold ass metal frame you call a headboard." You mutter as you begin scrolling. Yunho's chuckle rumbles through his chest and tickles your cheek. You both sit in silence for a while, content to scroll on your phones. Eventually, you turn to look up at him from his chest.

"I meant to ask how your new project has been going. Whatever you were building when I came in looked pretty intense." You can see the faint tinge of red trail up his ears and neck--a telltale sign that whatever you caught him building makes him embarrassed. You sit up, propping your weight on your elbow and placing a hand on his chest to shove him slightly. "Ooooo now you have to tell me what it is!"

"It's embarrassing..."

"Tell me tell me tell me tell me--"

"Okay fine, fuck. I'll tell you if you promise not to laugh--"

"I won't I swear!"

"Pinky promise?" He holds his pinky out to you, and you raise a hand from his chest. Before you can lace your pinky in his, he pulls his hand up above his head. "I'm serious, Y/N, if you laugh I'll have no choice but to tickle you to death."

He's definitely not stalling because he has to come up with a reply, because he certainly hasn't been building a treehouse for you in what he hopes will one day be a shared server. Yunho thinks to himself that he would rather die than let you find out.

You scoff, "I won't laugh...and even if I did I'm not ticklish so your threat is a moot point."

Yunho drops his hand down onto the mattress. "Bullshit."

"It's not. I don't have a ticklish bone in my body."

"Liar."

You shake your head, and Yunho takes the opportunity to gently press the pads of his fingers into the sides of your ribs. The sensation hits you almost immediately, and you feel the tight feeling in your chest as he begins tickling you. You squeal and thrash around in his grasp, trying desperately to get away from his assault.

"Yun stop it--"

"Not until you admit you're a liar!" You begin to giggle and manage to roll away from him, but Yunho is quick to follow. He swings a long leg over your hips and pins you beneath him, a single large hand trapping both of your wrists above your head while the other dances across your ribs. "Admit it," He sings out.

"Okay! Okay fine I'm a liar!" You gasp out between laughter. Yunho beams down at you and immediately stops tickling your sides, leaving you panting underneath him--

Oh fuck...you're panting underneath him.

He can almost feel the shift in the air as he stares down at you. He knows he should move, just roll off of you and make up some bullshit lie about what he was building. You like someone else, and he clearly wasn't getting out of the friend zone any time soon. He's just making a fool of himself...and yet he just can't bring himself to stop memorizing the way you look splayed out beneath his hips. Eventually he forces himself to stop staring at the way your chest rises and falls or the sliver of your tummy that's poking out from underneath your shirt that's riding up. He locks eyes with you.

Your voice comes out softer than he's ever heard you speak before. "Hey Yun?"

"Yeah?"

"You know that mystery guy I've been telling you about? The one with the pretty hands?"

A twinge of annoyance flairs in his stomach and he can't help but grumble out his reply. "Yeah?"

"I'll give you a hint. He's got me pinned to the mattress right now."

Yunho feels his heart drop deep into the pit of his stomach.

"Like...like right now he does?"

You laugh lightly. "Yeah, right now, Yun."

Yunho swallows thickly as his head starts spinning. He leans down much slower than he would have liked to, giving you plenty of time to take it back--to laugh at him and tell him you got him good. He feels like his whole body lights ablaze when you close the final gap between your lips, and suddenly he is kissing you.

In almost any circumstance that you had seen Yunho kissing someone, he was always fast-paced--hot and heavy petting in the corner of a darkened bar, dares in drunken party circles--which is why you were floored at the reverence he was kissing you with now. His mouth was steady and intense against yours, his hands roaming slowly across the expanse of your torso like he was memorizing the feel of something priceless. You gently pull your hands from his grasp and tangle them in his hair, pulling him closer and matching his intensity with your fervor. You feel his hands make their way to the lower hem of your shirt, and your skin erupts in goosebumps as you feel his fingers ghost along the sliver of skin there. He breaks the kiss and you feel his breath fan across your face as he pants. His hands gently make their way to rest just under your shirt, not quite pushing the fabric up. He locks eyes with you.

"Is this okay?"

You chuckle gently. "Yes, Yun, you can touch me. I want you to touch me." You watch his eyes darken and his hands start running up your torso, pulling your shirt up with them.

"Where do you want me to touch you, baby?"

You exhale heavily and arch your back into his touch. "Anywhere...everywhere...I don't care."

Yunho smirks and feels his ego inflate. "You don't care? Hmm..." He starts planting kisses along your jaw and down the side of your neck. Slow. Teasing. "If I remember correctly, you seemed pretty keen about having my hands in some specific places baby. Can you refresh my memory?"

The low whine that escapes your throat nearly sends him spiraling. "You know where...don't make me say it."

He does know, but there's nothing he wants to hear more right now than to hear you say it. He brings one hand up to your chest, cupping one of your boobs and squeezing gently as he continues peppering your neck with kisses. "Was it here? Or..." His hand trails back down and grips your hip possessively, "Here, maybe?" He hears you huff and feels your hand wrap around his wrist. You try to tug it up, and he chuckles softly but allows you to move his hand. He nips your earlobe and asks lowly, "Where do you need my hands baby?" He feels his cock twitch in his sweats when you wrap his fingers around your throat, guiding him to squeeze the sides gently. Your hands run down his chest and drop to your sides as he squeezes a little harder. "Fuck, look at you. So pretty with my hand around your neck."

You whine and buck your hips up, desperately looking for friction. Yunho coos as he looks down at you, wanting to have the image burned into his memory. He adjusts his position so he's sat on one side of you and brings his free hand to your thighs, squeezing the flesh there and watching the way you spread your legs for him. "Pretty girl, I need you to use your words. Spreading your legs like a whore isn't gonna get you what you want." He revels in the way you throw your head back onto the mattress and close your eyes, frustration evident already on your face.

"Need your fingers, Yun. Please."

Holy shit, he could combust right then and there. He smiles and traces his hands along the inside of your clothed thighs. "Good girl. So polite for me." He hooks his fingers in the waistband of your leggings and pulls them down and off, leaving you bare from the waist down. "Sit up for me baby. I want you between my legs."

Yunho sits on the edge of the mattress and allows you time to sit up, moving to sit in between his thighs. He hooks your legs over his, leaving you spread and completely at his mercy. A shiver runs down your spine as the pads of his fingers run across your thighs and you gasp as they brush against your core. He presses kisses into your neck and chuckles, "You're already soaking wet, what's got you all bothered hmm? I've barely touched you..." Yunho hums and teases your entrance with this middle finger. He can feel you clenching. "Do you like my hands that much baby? All it takes is a little choking and you're putty for me." He pushes two fingers inside, pumping slowly and curling back to find your sweet spot. He feels pride flare through his chest at the noise you make, a mix between a whine and a moan that eggs him on.

Your toes curl as Yunho almost immediately finds your g-spot. The pace he sets is almost perfect, and when he begins rubbing tight circles on your clit your eyes roll back into your head. The pleasure is a building wave, and it's all you can do to keep yourself remotely still as he continues pumping his thick fingers in and out. "Oh my god, Yun, please don't stop!" You clench helplessly around his fingers and let your head roll back to rest on his shoulder.

"Awe baby I'm not gonna stop. Not until I see how pretty you look cumming all over me. Will you do that for me, sweetheart?" he coos, bringing his other hand back up to your throat and squeezing lightly. "Will you cum all over my fingers? I bet you want to right? Wanna come on my fingers while I squeeze this pretty neck of yours?"

You whine and preen at his words and arch your back. Your legs begin to shake as Yunho's circling on your clit quickens pace just slightly, the thrusts of his fingers audible from the squelching between your thighs. Your breath quickens.

"My pretty girl, you're such a mess for me, aren't you? Can you hear how wet you are? All soaked for me? I bet your hands don't feel as good as mine hmm?"

You shake your head no violently, whining as he continues to talk lowly into your ear. Your orgasm builds quickly, and at this point you have no faith in your ability to speak coherently.

"No, they don't do they? I want you to show me how good my hands feel baby. Let go for me, sweetheart."

Your breath catches in your throat as you tip over the edge, and the feeling of your release washes over you. Your whole body jolts in his grasp as he continues pumping his fingers. You feel him squeeze your throat gently, just enough pressure to remind you that he's got you.

"Atta girl, look at you! Doing so good for me." You whine and buck your hips, orgasm still riding through your body. Yunho nips at your neck lightly and slows his pumping to a stop as you continue to shake. "That's it baby, just grind on them for me." The final aftershock of your orgasm finishes, and you go limp in his arms, leaning all of your weight back into his chest and breathing heavily.

Yunho pulls his fingers out and admires the mess you made on them before popping them into his mouth. He's still rock hard, and the taste of you on his fingers makes him twitch again. He'll definitely need your help with that later. He uses the hand around your neck to brush a stray hair from out of your face. "How are you feeling?"

You huff out a breathless laugh and turn your face to nuzzle into his neck. "How do you think I feel? That was...wow."

He can't help the goofy smile that crosses his face. "Oh really? Tell me more, I'd like a full report." He jokes, pulling the two of you down to snuggle on his bed. He grabs a throw blanket from your side and pulls it over the two of you and nearly melts when you curl closer to him, burying your face into his chest.

"Give me a few minutes to recover and I'll show you exactly how I'm feeling right now." Yunho rubs a hand up and down your back.

"I look forward to that."

"And then afterwards you're going to show me what you've been building."

Yunho chuckles and kisses the top of your head. No way in hell.

#ateez #ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #atz #yunho smut #yunho x reader #yunho imagines

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fastandcarlos · 5 months ago

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The Biggest Tease : ̗̀➛ Max Verstappen

summary: you're all for supporting max's career, but isn't a sex ban just a step too far?

“Stop right there,” Max called out as soon as he watched you walk down the stairs. Your face told him everything, your plan of mischief etched upon your face, unable to hide it.

You took a seat beside him on the sofa, resting your hand against the top of his leg. With two weeks off, you thought you were finally going to get your boyfriend all to yourself, that was until the seeming third wheel in your relationship got involved. Brad.

“This is ridiculous,” you huffed as Max kept his eyes on you, refusing to acknowledge where your hand was trailing. “What did I do to deserve this?”

“It’s just part of the job of dating a world champion,” he tried his best to joke.

Max almost felt sorry for you as you looked helplessly at him, hoping that somehow, he’d try and bend the rules. Brad was determined to keep Max in peak physical condition during the small break, and although you knew his job meant a lot to Max, you were confident you could find a solution that kept you both happy.

You grabbed the pillow beside you, admitting defeat and holding it close to your body. Max kept his eye on you as you did so, desperately wanting to reach out and give you what you wanted. Was it worth the scolding that he’d get back at headquarters? Probably.

“Max,” you whined, scuffing your feet along the bedroom floor as you found him sat in his gaming chair a few hours later.

“Hi sweetheart,” he hummed, spinning his chair around as he paused his game.

You perched on the end of the bed, folding your arms across your chest with a pout on your face. Straight away Max tapped his lap, inviting you over. You didn’t need to be asked twice as you jumped over, feeling his strong arms wrap around your waist to keep you in position.

“Playing anything good?” You enquired as you studied his set up in front of you.

“Nothing you’d enjoy,” Max assured you, pressing a gentle kiss against your shoulder. “It’s unlike you to come and take an interest in what I’m playing anyway.”

Your shoulders shrugged as you leant further back against Max’s chest, shuffling in his lap as you made yourself comfortable. As you did so, a faint intake of breath came from behind you, your movement taking Max by surprise.

You slowly turned your bright eyes to meet Max’s, catching his bottom lip being bitten by his teeth. His head shook slowly at you, knowing full well what you were trying to do, as if to tell you that you didn’t even need to bother.

“It’s only a couple more days until race day,” Max tried his best to remind you, but you were beyond waiting any longer. You shifted your body so that your lips could reach his jawline, kissing against it gently.

You were all for supporting Max, encouraging him to the best driver he could be, but your patience had been tested to its limit.

“Babe,” Max sighed as you continued to capture his attention.

“What? I’m not doing anything,” you innocently defended, sniggering to yourself.

“I love you, but we can’t do this.”

“Do what?” You quizzed, pulling away from Max so you could see the expression on his face. You could read him like a book, as serious as he wanted to be, his eyes were pleading with you not to stop.

“Are you going to explain this to Brad?”

“You mean am I going to explain to Brad how annoyingly irresistible my boyfriend is? Absolutely,” you chuckled, pressing your hands against Max’s chest.

Max’s head tilted back as you moved one of your hands to brush through his hair, tugging gently at the knots that had formed throughout the day. He soon found himself losing all control, a habit of his whenever you were around.

Soon enough Max’s hands were resting on your waist, refusing to let you move away from him. A smile of satisfaction appeared on your face as you looked at him again, a knowing look on his face.

“I hate what you do to me,” he whispered, secretly loving the way you tried to push all of his buttons.

“Me? What did I do?” You questioned, shuffling slightly again. “All I wanted to do was come and see what you were up to.”

Max’s eyes rolled as you tried your best to play innocent with him. He pulled you closer towards him, his hot breath tickling just underneath your ear, “two weeks is a long time without sex, right?”

Your head nodded straight away as he whispered, as much as you wanted to try and convince Max that you had full control around him, you didn’t. You were losing your mind; Max was so close and yet so far away.

Max’s hand trailed underneath the shirt that you were wearing, fingertips brushing against your skin. “I’m sorry I ever made you wait for me,” he hummed.

“I can support the diets, the exercise, and even the sleepless nights of different time zones, but sex is wear I draw the line,” you chuckled, hearing Max’s giggles mix in with your own. “Does Brad not realise what an irresistible man you are?”

Max’s eyes rolled as you continued to laugh away to yourself, “maybe you should tell him all about it at the next team briefing?”

“Does this mean that the ban is over?” You asked, a wave of relief washing over you as Max’s head nodded in reply to you.

The look on your face reminded Max exactly why he found it so difficult to control himself around you in the first place, especially after ten days of trying his best to distance himself.

“Brad will forgive me…I’m a desperate man,” Max laughed as he stood up from his chair, holding you tightly in his arms as he headed for your bed.

“Trust me, you’re not the only one whose desperate.”

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

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daisynik7 · 1 year ago

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Pairing: Takuma Ino x f!reader

Rating: Explicit – MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Word Count: ~1.7k

cw: explicit language, mentions of a popular horror movie, smut – PIV sex (cowgirl position), nipple play, blow job, mask kink, slight degradation (slut, whore), use of pet names (cutie, sweetie, baby)

Summary: You and your new boyfriend Ino decide to watch a horror movie together in honor of spooky season. Halfway through, he notices how skittish you are, making him want to play a silly prank on you with his signature ski mask. It’s all fun and games until he realizes that you actually like seeing him in this way more than he anticipated.

Author’s Note: Happy October y'all! What can I say, I am VERY into Takuma Ino right now and I just had to get this out of my system. This is barely edited or proofread, sorry for any grammar mistakes or typos, I really was just letting my fingers fly through this in a moment of passion LOL. Likes, reblogs, and/or comments are always appreciated, thank you for reading! MDNI banner by @/cafekitsune.

You turn off all the lights, the only source of illumination coming from the TV screen, paused at the very start of the movie you decided to watch tonight. With a big bowl of freshly popped kernels in your grasp, you huddle beside your boyfriend, Ino, on the couch, covering both your legs with a fleece blanket. He wraps his arm around you, pulling you in closer, reaching to grab a handful of popcorn to stuff inside his mouth. “Ready?” he muffles, pointing the remote to the screen, finger pressed to the center button.

Nuzzling your head against him, you answer. “Yup!”

It’s apparently one of those cult classic horror flicks according to Ino, who recommended it when you mentioned how you wanted to watch something scary for October. He’s seen it before, many times in fact, but he insists that you watch it. He has no clue how frightened you get over the silliest things, so tonight will be a treat for the both of you.

The opening scene plays out: a beautiful blonde picks up the phone and the conversation ends quickly short because it’s the wrong number. Normal so far, good. It rings again, but now the caller seems interested in talking. Do you like scary movies? Do you have a boyfriend? The man’s voice gives you the creeps, and you find yourself shuddering from it, cuddling closer to Ino, who glances at you with a smirk on his face.

You never told me your name.

Why do you want to know my name?

Because I want to know who I’m looking at.

This line gives you goosebumps and you lift the blankets up to hide behind it. “Ew, creepy!” Ino only laughs, throwing a few more pieces of popcorn into his mouth.

It escalates from here, getting increasingly chaotic and violent. By the time you’re halfway into the film, the bowl is down to its last kernels and you’re crouched in Ino’s lap, peeking through your fingers. He pauses the movie after one particularly brutal kill. “Snack break! I’m going to make some more popcorn and go pee.”

“You’re leaving?!” you whine, clinging on to him as he tries to get up.

He chuckles. “Babe! It’s just a movie. I’ll be right back, okay?” He kisses you on the forehead, heading into the kitchen, leaving you alone in the living room.

Of course it’s just a movie, but you can’t help feeling creeped out in the dark like this. You reach for one of the nightstands, turning on the lamp. You hear the drone of the microwave, and after a minute or so, the distinct sound of popping. Eventually, it comes to a stop, and the entire house is eerily quiet. You’re tempted to call out for Ino, wondering where he is, but you remember that he had to use the bathroom.

Suddenly, a shadowy figure appears right behind on you on the couch, grabbing your shoulders and shouting gibberish at you. You scream bloody murder, ready to punch him and run away when Ino lifts his ski mask up to reveal himself, tears streaming down his face, cracking up at you.

“Ino!” you yell at him, slapping his hands away from you. “You fucking asshole!”

He doubles over, cackling, wiping his eyes. It takes a good while for him to regain his composure as you glare at him, arms crossed over your chest. “I’m sorry, baby. I just couldn’t resist.” He sits beside you, stretching his arms out for a hug. “You have to admit, that was fucking hilarious.”

You shake your head, refusing. “You’re such a dick.”

“Oh, come on! It was just a little prank. Now you’ll be way more prepared for the rest of the movie!” He pulls the mask over his face again, everything covered except the holes for his eyes. “See? Not so scary anymore, right?”

You inspect him carefully, still pouting, not saying a word.

“I’m sorry, sweetie. Truly. I promise not to scare you again.” He scoots towards you, nudging you in the arm.

You roll your eyes at him, relaxing. “Fine.”

“Can I get a kiss now?”

He tries to lift his mask up, but you stop him, pulling it back down. “I don’t want to see your face right now. I’m still annoyed, you know.”

“Aw man! Really?”

You hoist it just past his nose, leaning in to give him a soft kiss on the lips. When you break apart, he smirks at you. “You like this, don’t you? Seeing me with my mask on.”

You shrug, a sly grin on your face, neither confirming nor denying his accusation. Sure, you were a bit upset at first, when he scared the shit out of you. But seeing his face covered like that may have sparked a desire in you that you never knew you had, until now.

“Oh my god! You do, you do!” he exclaims, shaking your arm. “My cutie has a mask kink!”

“Shut up, asshole!” you yell at him, pretending to shove him off, smiling.

“You’re a fucking freak!” he giggles, pouncing on you. He starts tickling you along your ribcage, causing you to squirm beneath him as he straddles you, trapping you between his legs. His fingers flutter under your arms, stroking your sensitive skin.

“Ino!” you cry out, laughing from the sensation.

You can feel his cock growing hard in his pants, balls heavy on your stomach. Suddenly, he stops, mask still folded to expose his lips, leaning down to kiss you sloppily. He pins your hands above your head, locking his fingers with yours. He slips inside your mouth, grazing your tongue with his, hungry for your saliva. “Fuck,” he moans into you, nipping at your bottom lip. “You like this freaky shit, don’t you? Nasty slut.” His playful tone is laden with lust now, low and sultry, mouth brushing along your neck, sucking at your pulse points to mark you.

You whine his name, wrapping your legs around his waist, grinding yourself against him.

“Look at you, getting so fucking dumb all because of my mask,” he purrs. “What else turns you on, cutie? Tell me.”

Without thinking, you blurt out, “Spit. Your spit. I want it.”

“Oh shit,” he swears, licking his mouth. He traces the outline of your lips, beckoning you to open up, dribbling a thick wad of saliva inside you. You gulp it down, sticking your tongue out for more.

“Oh fuck, you’re nasty,” he says, doing it again. “Makes me so fucking horny seeing you like this. Seeing my cutie act like a fucking whore.” He slips beneath your shirt, fondling your bare breasts, flicking your peaked nipples with his thumbs.

“Fuck, Ino,” you whisper, pussy throbbing in your panties, arousal leaking through the fabric.

“You like it when I play with your tits, huh?” Like it when I pinch them hard like this.” He squeezes them between his thumb and index finger, enough pressure to stimulate you, making you moan his name again and again.

He swears under his breath, shoving his pants down his legs, shimmying out of them until he’s only in his underwear now, erection stiff in his boxers. “You gonna suck my cock now or what, slut?”

You nod, kneeling in front of him, knees on the carpet, spreading his thighs apart. He lifts his ass off the couch to slide out of his boxers, letting them fall around his ankles. You kiss the tip of his dick, smearing his precum around your lips like gloss before swallowing him into your mouth.

He lets out a drawn out, “Fuck,” watching you with wide eyes as you bob up and down his shaft. Voice shaky, he asks, “Can I put my hands on you?”

Something about him in this ski mask makes you want to be submissive, makes you want to be used. You grab both his hands, guiding them towards the sides of your head, giving him free rein to manhandle you.

“Holy shit,” he murmurs, gripping you tighter, gradually thrusting his hips in tandem with you. His cockhead hits the back of your throat, teasing your gag reflex, but you resist, tears collecting in the corners of your eyes, enduring it.

Noticing you, he pulls out, a string of spit between you. “Baby, baby. Please don’t force yourself. I don’t want to hurt you.” He reaches to his side, grabbing a tissue from the table beside the couch, wiping away the spit around your mouth and the tears in your eyes. “Come here, cutie. I want to make you feel good too.”

You strip out of your bottoms, straddling his lap, pussy wet and aching against him. He moans as you rock back and forth on his shaft, pressing his thumb to your clit, massaging it. “There we go. Now we both can feel good, yeah?”

After a few more strokes, you beg him to fuck you, lifting up to guide his cock inside you slowly, sinking down on him until he bottoms out. You bounce on him, his hands gripped to your waist, guiding you, moaning your name between expletives.

As you approach your orgasm, you pull up his mask, placing it on his head as he usually wears it. He smiles brightly at you, nuzzling his nose to yours. “There’s my pretty girl. Can you come for me now? Come all over this cock?”

You kiss him passionately, arms wrapped around his neck as he thrusts into you, hands squeezed on your ass now. You reach your climax, moaning into his mouth. He comes with you, shooting his load deep into your womb, filling you up with his cream pie. The two of you continue to kiss slowly, catching your breaths. He caresses your back while you melt into his embrace.

“We need to establish a safe word,” he suggests, cradling you in his arms. “I want to make sure I’m not hurting you.”

You hum into his skin, saying the first thing that comes to mind. “Popcorn."

He chuckles, stroking the back of your neck gently. “Alright. Popcorn it is.” A beat later, he exclaims, “Popcorn! I totally forgot about the popcorn!”

You laugh, giving your boyfriend a wet smooch on the cheek.

#takuma ino #ino takuma #takuma ino x reader #takuma ino smut #ino takuma smut #ino takuma x reader #takuma ino x you #ino takuma x you #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader

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starsofang · 1 month ago

Text

CALL OF THE SEA / PART SEVENTEEN

pirate poly!141 x f!reader tw: NSFW, MDNI, violence, degrading, mentions of death/blood, dove is called some nasty words, please heed warnings for this chapter masterlist a/n: girlbossed a little too hard and finished the chapter a day early. posting this after my 14 hour shift with nothing but hope and dreams. this chapter is a long one, i think the longest one so far, so have fun :p

When a group of unhinged pirates invade your small village, you're whisked away from your peaceful home and thrown on to a voyage out at sea. Forced to obtain a new role as their medic, you have no choice but to accept your fate as you join their forces and aid them in their treacherous travels.

Up close, Graves was even more sinister than imagined. It was as if you were living in your own nightmare come to life, with beady eyes crinkling back at you as a curled smile stretched over his face. Adorned in all black from head to toe, with the only spouts of color being the mess of dark blonde atop his head, nearly covered by the old, leather pirate hat.

His skin was deathly pale, a feat you knew to be from his reaping sins. To take a life in return for a piece of his—a soul bind.

If he weren’t such a sick man, you’d dare say he’d been handsome, if it weren’t for the look of rotting to the core. His personality did no justice, something cocky and mighty. He knew exactly how to play his game, and he played it well.

In your turmoil, you dared to wonder if all of this was indeed another nightmare. Perhaps you were still asleep, stuck in an endless loop until Soap or Gaz awoke you as they always did; but with a sharp pinch on your thigh beneath the thin covers of Price’s bedspread, the world remained at ease.

This one wouldn’t be easy to get out of.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Graves mused, smile so wide you worried the corners would crack and bleed. You wished you could see him writhe like a helpless roach beneath your shoe. “Why the long face?”

“How—” You swallowed, fisting the sheets. “How are you here?”

Graves stood straight, glancing around the room. He pretended to ponder, holding his arms up to shrug. “I let myself in.”

Your eyes followed his every move as he slowly stepped throughout Price’s quarters, taking it in. You sat as still as a statue, completely frozen in place. The sound of his heavy boots along the wood floors rang alarm bells.

The air in the room fell icy cold, rising goosebumps on your skin. There was that frigid chill that felt as if you’d just stepped into a slaughterhouse, a hint of decay tickling your nostrils.

This was the feel of death you’d always felt, lingering behind you, watching. He’d always been there, even if only in your mind.

“Where is the Captain?” you asked, attempting to make your voice firm. Show no weakness—it was the very thing you’d been taught since your first day on the ship. You hoped Price would be proud that you remembered.

Graves’ eyebrows raised and while his smile remained, it only seemed to glimmer with excitement when the question was asked, as if you asked a dog if he wanted a bone.

“He truly has you on a leash,” he snickered, finding something amusing in all of it. “You’re like their little bitch, aren’t you?”

Your blood ran hot at the demeaning nature his words brought, but you knew better. They were for show, something to make him appear taller. If you fell for it, you’d only be digging a deeper grave for yourself.

“No,” you muttered, eyes narrowing. “I am a pirate, just as them.”

Graves barked out a laugh, one that made your ears bleed. It was meant to deplete your confidence, poisoned with arrogance.

“Is that right?” he asked with a shit-eating grin. “A pirate, are you?”

Graves stalked towards you, agonizingly slow, stopping when his knees bumped the side of the cot. He leaned down so his face was level with yours, empty eyes peering deep within your soul. His breath reeked of death and despair, nearly knocking you unconscious.

“I’d like to test that.”

His icy hand wrapped around your bicep, hauling you out of the bed. With a yelp, you stumbled to your feet, bare of their shoes. The world beneath your soles felt foreign now, ever since Soap had given you your gift and you’d never take them off unless you were falling asleep.

The grip was tight, causing your heartbeat to thump through your muscles angrily. Your skin under his hand paled from the sheer force.

Graves tugged you along as you fought to resist him, squirming and attempting to plant your feet to the floor. Without the help of your shoes compared to his unruly strength, your fight was deemed useless. He continued dragging you, so much so you could feel little splinters begin to dig into your soles and invoke dull pangs of pain.

Fear filled your body from head to toe, your heart pounding against your rib cage. A lump filled your throat, coated with anxiety. Your mind filled with millions of thoughts, smothering any confidence you previously had and replacing it with the idea of death.

Was this where all would end? Your crew was one of the most feared among the seas, a healthy bounty placed over their heads. But there would always be one person above, and that person was Graves.

Every kick, bump, resist was fruitless as Graves hauled you to the door. What lay beyond it terrified you, images of your men dead flashing before your eyes.

Coated in their own bloodbaths, bodies laid limp amongst the floors of their own homes, sprawled out as if they meant nothing. Oh, you couldn’t bear it. You’d have to go, too—you’d have nothing left.

When Graves opened the door, you weren’t sure if the sight was any better.

It was dark, the moon only a sliver in the sky, granting no room for light. A single lantern was all that was left to cast orange shadows, its fire flickering in a dance for a way out.

Your crew was lined shoulder to shoulder, on their knees in a submissive front, hands bound with thick rope behind their backs. Graves’ men, his Shadows, held the barrel of their guns to each of their heads.

Though the sight was an improvement from what you initially prepared yourself for, it was far from good. It was bordering those images, a glimpse into what could be a massacre.

The moment you were out of Price’s quarters, Graves let go of you, shoving you. You lost your balance, tumbling to your side, your head slamming into the deck. Pain blossomed under your skull and you hissed in pain.

“Dove?” you heard one of them call out. Your head spun, making it hard to figure out who it was.

A heavy blow landed on your side where you lay, and you wheezed, Graves’ boot unexpected. It kept you in place, applying pressure to guarantee you wouldn’t try to flee and fight back.

“Get the fuck off of her,” Price growled. You could recognize it, filled with a burning venom that dared to kill anyone that was in its crossfire. “This has nothin’ to do with her.”

“It’s all to do with her,” Graves spat, digging the toe of his boot into your rib cage. His previous cockiness had melted away, revealing his boiling rage. “Isn’t that right, dove?”

Graves lifted his boot, granting you a brief moment of relief before it slammed back down. It knocked the air right out of your lungs, leaving you croaking out a plea to stop.

You coiled in on yourself, curling into a ball in attempts to lessen the damage. It did nothing to stop his boot from weighing on your side. The pain felt like nothing you’d experienced before, and you were sure you felt a bone crunch.

“Dove,” Gaz called out, frantic. He tried leaning forward to get a glimpse of your face, to search for your eyes, but the barrel of the gun only pressed deeper into the back of his skull in warning. “Dove, it’s okay. Just listen to my voice, alright? I’m right here.”

Your eyes were widened with fear, chest heaving to catch the breaths that were stolen from you. You couldn’t move, frozen in place, even as Gaz called out for you with the threat of a bullet through his head.

“I don’t know what you’re plannin’, Graves,” Price snarled, “but this is between us.”

Graves laughed diabolically, throwing his head back. It only made everything much more tense.

“Isn’t she apart of you now?” Graves humored, cocking his head. His fingers drummed along the gun in its holster on his hip. “If I’m not mistaken, she’s a pirate. I believe those were your words, Price.”

The realization that Graves knew had you going cold. The closer he got, the stronger the connection became.

“What the hell is it ye want?” Soap asked through gritted teeth. His eyes were darting back and forth between your crumpled form and Graves. “S’always somethin’ with ye, aye?”

Graves eyed Soap, a glint in his gaze. There was something unfamiliar in it, as if he held a personal grudge towards the man in question.

“There is something I want,” Graves agreed, letting out a dramatic sigh. He tapped at the gun once again, staring up at the sky in thought. “I think dove here knows exactly what that is.”

Graves dug his boot once again, peering down at you as if you were scum. You couldn’t stop the small whimper from the agony drumming in your side.

“Go on, dove,” Graves taunted, grinning. “Tell them.”

“I don’t know,” you panted. You were unfocused, eyes staring at the old floor from where your head rested.

You tried recalling what it is he could want, anything at all, but nothing was becoming clear. You scavenged through the deepest parts of your brain for even a simple clue, but the blows had made you dazed.

“I swear, I’ll fuckin’ kill you—”

“You do know,” Graves repeated, cutting off the Captain. His tone grew annoyed. “Think real hard, dove.”

“I don’t know,” you cried, shoulders beginning to shake. All the built up confidence to fight back had vanished into thin air. Now, you felt like a scared little girl, begging for mercy.

Graves’ boot lifted, then returned back down. A string of curses were thrown his way from your crew, who were thrashing in the binds, unable to aid you under the lineup of guns to their heads.

You felt wetness cascade down your cheeks, dampening your skin and falling down to the side of your head from the angle you laid. It was then you realized you were crying, embarrassingly so.

Only mere hours ago you were deemed a pirate, and yet at the start of war, you fell apart like a damsel.

“The telescope,” Ghost said, voice low. It was the first he’d spoken, only sitting there silently as you were beaten down. His head hung low, as if ashamed, though the darkness in his eyes was enough to cast doom across entire continents. “He’s talkin’ about the telescope.”

You blinked away the tears, eyes burning. Realization dawned on you the moment Ghost spoke. Through your huddled position, you tried to tilt your chin down to meet his eye. As if thinking the same thing, he lifted his head, connecting your gazes. You could see that familiar apology pooling out of him, expressing everything he needed to say.

Washed away to land and shore,

shall be the looking glass for ocean eyes.

The telescope you found for Gaz was an innocent gesture. The sight of it called out to you, as if meant to be owned by you. If you would’ve known it was Graves it was calling, you would’ve thrown it into the deep sea so it could never be found again.

“So he speaks,” Graves mused sarcastically.

Ghost broke contact first, eyes boring into Graves. He looked murderous, plotting his own bloodbath with just a simple look. The dim light of the single lantern did nothing to lessen the ominous glow, only highlighting it.

“Don’t fuckin’ talk to him,” Soap hissed, scowling. The look of pure disgust was such a contrast to his normal, boyish grins.

Graves paid no mind to him, stuck in a contest with Ghost. The two of them had a dark force swirling between them, one that even outside made the air heavy and suffocating.

“A point for your bravery, Ghost,” Graves sighed dramatically, breaking his stare. He looked between each and every man, sparing you no glance while his boot remained in place. “My telescope. Give it to me, and I’ll let her go.”

You instantly shifted your eyes to look at Gaz, who seemed to be struggling with a decision. You knew why he was having a hard time—you gifted the telescope to him, unknowing of who it truly belonged to. It was something he treasured, something he didn’t want to let go of.

“I have it,” Gaz said lowly, head bowing. “It’s in my quarters. I’ll take you to it.”

Graves sucked his teeth, feigning pity. He shook his head, hand fully resting on the gun at his hip. “Not going to work on me, Gaz. I’m quite capable of getting it myself. You sit tight, aye?”

Gaz stiffened, expression growing grim. Nevertheless, he said nothing, deciding silence was the best contender for a fight bound to end in loss.

Graves gestured for the man behind Price to fetch the telescope from Gaz and Soap’s shared quarters. Price didn’t tear his eyes away from Graves once, even as the Devil of the Seas took out his own gun and pointed it right at Price’s forehead.

He pressed the barrel of the gun into Price’s forehead, indenting the skin. It was a snug fit, a perfect shot for Graves if he wished to end things the easy way.

Graves didn’t like it easy. He liked it fun.

“Scared we’ve caught on to your trail, aye?” Price bluffed, voice gravelly and malicious. “That’s why you came out here like a fuckin’ mutt, hidin’ in the storm until you found the right time to ambush us?”

“You have your dove to blame,” Graves replied nonchalantly, rubbing his boot back and forth along your side. The pressure had you sucking air through your teeth, eyes clenching shut. “She might be your new toy, but she’s just as much a mutt as I am.”

“You shut your fuckin’ mouth,” Price snarled, body shaking with feverish rage. If he could pounce on Graves, you knew he would.

“Looks like you finally grew some balls, Captain,” Graves snickered, pulling back the hammer of the gun. It resounded a loud click, which translated to a warning bell in Price’s favor. “Such anger. That anger has never worked for you, Price. It didn’t work for Ghost—it won’t work for her.”

Price let out an animalistic growl, his lips pulling back in a sneer. You’d seen the Captain angry, and you’d seen him under the guise of a scary, ominous pirate who would kill any innocent bystander that stood in his way.

This was entirely different. This was personal. A build up. This was a storm that had been coming for ages, and you were only toeing the edges.

The Shadow returned, holding the telescope you’d gifted Gaz. It shimmered in the lantern’s glow, glinting its gold details and showing it off. It felt like a goodbye.

“I’d be real careful from now on, Graves,” Price warned. It was the first you ever heard him speak so menacingly, like the demon inside of him was erupting with a stream of hot lava filled with nothing but spewing hatred. “When I find you, I’ll fuckin’ kill you myself. String you up on my sails until you’re dry, toss you into the ocean to the sharks. I’ll take pleasure in watchin’ you burn until there’s nothin’ left but ash and dust.”

Graves took the telescope from his Shadow’s hand, inspecting it. The words Price spoke clearly struck a nerve, for the arrogant grin had vanished, replaced with a gloomy, threatened expression.

“Hm,” Graves huffed, letting his gun fall and placing it back in its holster. He signaled for his men to follow suit, and you watched as all weapons dropped. “I await the day that happens, Captain. Until then, keep your mutt on a leash, aye?”

Graves made no effort to untie the crew, leaving them bound as he gathered his men to walk the plank connecting the two ship. A long, woden plank that creaked under the weight, one od wish you could kick from its balance and send them flying into the dark sea.

The moment was brutally silent as they left. Nobody moved a muscle until Graves was on his ship, the plank pulled from its placement, and the skull flag waved goodbye as they set sail into the pit of the night.

Time stood still, but the second Graves and his crew were hidden in the waves, all hell broke loose. Price and Gaz worked together to unbind each other with their backs to one another, frantic to be released. Ghost sat silently, eyes staring into the floorboards as if they’d speak to him.

“Say somethin’, dove,” Soap begged, scooting on his knees to be by your side.

As if the dam broke, you began to cry once more, heartbreaking sobs coming right from your core. You curled up tighter into your ball, your hand resting on your side as if it would magically ease the pain.

“It hurts,” you replied, voice cracking.

You’d stayed strong up until that point. Now, you couldn’t hold up your front.

You were scared. You felt more helpless than ever. You couldn’t remain strong for the sake of pretend anymore. Everything hurt, and Graves’ presence shook you to your very core.

“I know,” he cooed. He made a frustrated noise when he struggled against the binds. “I know, dove. We’re right here, alright?”

It felt strange, being on the other side of the spectrum. You were used to being the one to aid people in their injuries, but now, it was you being comforted. You couldn’t grasp what your life had become.

Price was released from his binds, quickly helping Gaz slip out of his. While Gaz made quick work to move to work on Ghost, Price was by your side in an instant.

One hand rested on your hip, turning your body towards him while the other found your face, resting his palm on it. His eyes were filled with worry when you faced him and he urgently wiped at your tears with his thumb.

“Dove,” he breathed in relief, his heart aching at the sight of you so broken. This was his fault. “You’re okay, I have you.”

You whimpered when he shifted so he could slide his arms beneath you, one under your shoulders and the other in the bend of your knees. The movement flared pain all over again, and Price murmured apologies, unsure of what to do.

He hurried to his quarters, his men following closely behind like scared dogs with their tails between their legs. Gaz held open the door, and you only caught a glimpse of his guilt-stricken expression before you were ushered in.

Price carefully slid you on to his cot, wincing every time you whimpered or cried. The pain felt excruciating, your breathing quick and labored.

“She needs a medic,” Soap stressed.

“She is a medic,” Gaz reminded, resting his hands on the edge of the cot so he could lean over and inspect your face. “We have no help besides her.”

“Well, she can’t treat herself, ye fuckin’ oaf,” Soap snipped, shooing him away from your space. “Cap, she needs to get checked. She can’t even breathe properly!”

Your head began to pound from the sheer loudness that filled the room. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to will away the ache while simultaneously trying to correct your breathing.

You knew well enough that there was something shattered or broken. A rib, though small in theory, but dreadfully painful without the correct medicines. Not to mention the amount of force Graves had used—it was pure hell.

Price was silent, as was Ghost, the two of them sharing a conversation with just a look. There was an understanding shared, and Price gently shoved Gaz and Soap aside, replacing them.

He mimicked Gaz’s previous stance, leaning on the bed. His hand came to brush a stray tear away, frowning embedded in his mouth.

“Tell me what to do, dove,” he said softly. “I’ll do whatever it is.”

You sniffled, hand shaking where they rested on your side. You shook your head, nearly deranged from the shock and horror of it all, unable to snap out of it.

“I—I can’t fix it on my own, Captain,” you quivered, lips trembling. “It hurts.”

Price nearly broke, filled with guilt. He glanced behind him at Ghost, who quickly looked away, hands balling into fists.

“I know,” he assured calmly, brushing his finger along your cheek where he wiped the tear away. “We’ll fix it, aye? You just have to sit tight until we can. Can you do that for us, dove?”

Though you knew the wait would be cruel—a slow healing process until you could receive proper care—you found yourself nodding shamelessly, instantly trusting Price and his promises.

Price nodded along with you, giving your cheek a comforting pinch. “Attagirl,” he praised, calming your nerves.

“I’ll fuckin’ gut him,” Soap muttered, jaw pulled tight. “He’s fuckin’ dead.”

Gaz reached up to grip Soap’s nape, tugging at his hair. Soap threw him a glare, one Gaz promptly ignored, turning his attention to you.

“Listen to Cap, birdie,” Gaz encouraged warmly. “We’ll get you all fixed up. You won’t even know you’re hurtin’.”

Price had a look of hesitation when you caught his eye. You furrowed your eyebrows, frowning in confusion before he spoke again, causing you to grow uncomfortable.

“We need to check it first, dove,” he said apologetically. “If you don’t feel well with all of us bein’ here, you can pick who you prefer. No hard feelin’s, hm?”

The idea that one, if not all, had to see you undressed in order to inspect the damage was one that made you a bit dazed. You’d never been seen beneath your raggedy clothes in the village, and the same applied for your time on the ship. It felt sacred, like your vulnerability was on the line, but you had to remind yourself that it was purely medical—you’d done it plenty of times when in practice at your old home.

“It—it is fine, just… just turn away, yes?” you pleaded, unable to meet any of them in the eye.

You heard a round of shuffling, only seeing Gaz elbow Soap in the corner of your vision. Once you were sure they feasted their eyes upon the old wall, you began to carefully lift your hips, biting your lip to muffle the pained noise that threatened to leave.

The hem of your dress was swiftly pulled up past your thighs, all the way until your torso was exposed. You stopped it beneath your breasts, quick to tug the blanket over your nakedness that remained uninjured and in no need to be checked.

The anxiety that pooled in your stomach left you queasy, but you toughed through it, knowing how important it was. If you had more than a mere fracture, it could become worse over time.

“Okay,” you said quietly, cringing when they turned to take you in. The men did their best to make you feel as at ease as possible, gearing their focus towards the nasty swelling on your side.

You dared to take a peek yourself, fearing for why they were so quiet. What you saw was ugly—swollen and puffy, beaten to the point it was already turning purple and blue. It was tender to the touch, even more so without clothing as a barrier.

The worst was the gnarly, black veins that spouted out like roots, dipping deep into the new bruising. It was inhuman, something completely out of the ordinary. You knew it was Graves’ dirty work, and it reminded you of when Ghost had cut his finger in the kitchen and his blood turned black, vanishing into thin air.

When you shifted your eyes from your injury, you searched for Ghost’s, who was hard-stuck on the veins. His body was tense, a darkness swirling in his irises.

“Ghost?” Soap tried, nudging the brute lightly. “Any idea what that is?”

Ghost glanced over to Soap before returning to your side, taking in the sight. “Could be anythin’,” he muttered, unsure. “I don’t know what all he’s capable of. For all we know, it could already be infected.”

“Infected?” you asked, a worried chill racking through you.

Price reached out a careful hand to spread his fingertips along the veins. You choked on a gasp at the immediate discomfort, face scrunching up into a wince.

“We’re goin’ to a doctor,” Price nearly growled, taking his hand away. “I don’t care where. The moment we spot land, we’re goin’.”

“We still have bounties on our head, Cap,” Gaz reminded with a frown. “We can’t just go anywhere. It’s not the same as shoppin’. If we end up in the wrong place, we might get ourselves in deeper shit.”

“That is a risk I’m willin’ to take,” Price argued, firm in his stance. “If we start nitpickin’ where to go, it might be too late. You’re either in or out.”

The room fell silent as the men stared at their Captain. The answer to them was obvious, though you knew why they hesitated; if they were imprisoned, it would do you no good.

Emotions were high and the clock was ticking. It placed everyone on edge.

“I agree with Price.”

All heads turned to Ghost, who stood with his arms crossed, eyes boring into yours.

“It’s my fault she’s marked. So long as she gets fixed up, I could care less about bein’ thrown into a cell. I’m with Price,” he finished.

“Ghost—” you tried.

“I am quite firm in what I’ve decided,” he interrupted harshly before realizing his mistake, calming himself down. He looked away from you, crossing his arms a bit tighter. “I’m in no mood for arguments.”

You went quiet, watching Ghost turn towards the door and plot his escape. You knew out of everyone, he was affected the most, tormented with sickening guilt for all that’s transpired. You could only imagine how he felt, now that times had grown darker.

“Let him go,” Soap murmured softly, gaining your attention. “He’ll be alright. Let’s just worry ‘bout ye, aye?”

You were torn, but you nodded nonetheless, silently agreeing.

“You’ll stay with me for now,” Price explained. “No use in movin’ you anymore than I have. I’ll get you situated for now, and then you can rest.”

Gaz, Soap, and Price muttered amongst themselves, discussing a brief plan of what to do. The two set off to find more pillows to extend your comfort while Price remained by your side, plopping himself in his chair with a heavy sigh. His elbows rested on its arms, his fingers coming up to rub at his temple.

He looked exhausted, the bags under his eyes becoming more prominent the longer you looked.

“I am sorry, Captain,” you said quietly, eyes glueing to the ceiling.

“What have you got to be sorry for?” he asked, frowning. “Got nothin’ to apologize for, dove. Our worry stems from care.”

“Yes, but,” you paused, gathering the words, “I have caused much trouble since my arrival. Things only seem to be harder for you.”

“Life was hard before you, dove,” he assured, letting his hand fall from his face. “That’s the way it goes. It is to no fault but the world.”

You took in his words, letting them sink in. You hadn’t known a true life of trouble before, the only hardships being your utter loneliness and daily taunts from the local villagers. This was something beyond your knowledge, and you were beginning to understand that there was more to life than simply displeasuring people. There was more than what meets the eye, but there was also light at the end of every tunnel.

“You do not see me as a mere burden?” you asked, and he huffed.

“What have I told you before?” Price pressed in return, tilting his head. “You are one of us. A true pirate, if that is what you’d like.”

“I am far from a pirate,” you scoffed to yourself, ashamed. “I could not even defend myself or any of you.”

“Dove,” Price called out softly. He scooted his chair closer to your bedside, forcing you to turn your head and look at him. “A loss is not always a failure. Some wars are too big to handle on your own. There’s nothin’ wrong with that. Why must you speak so lowly of yourself?”

You stared at him unblinking, studying the furrow of his eyebrows and the curl of his lips, hidden beneath his beard. The worry lines on his forehead showed years of hardship, and you wondered how he managed to live through it if you could barely survive your own smaller ones.

“I have known nothing else,” you confessed bitterly, though not towards him. You were angry, not only with yourself, but at life for dealing its deck of cards in such an unfair way.

“I see,” he hummed, leaning back in his chair. He tapped his fingers along the armrests, getting lost in thought. “It was the same for me as well.”

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Really?”

“Mhm,” he sighed, picking at the splintering wood of the armrests. “My father was a captain before me. Had the tongue of a devil. Always angry, always cold—treated me like scum, even as a child.”

“I am sorry,” you murmured quietly. Price bristled, frowning.

“That is not the point, dove,” he replied. He leaned forward to rest his elbows on the side of the bed, mere inches away from where you laid. You waited patiently for him to continue, keeping your gazes connected to show you were listening. “Some may treat you like a mutt on the street and deem your worth how they please. The only thing that matters is how you take it and how you come out of it.”

It dawned on you what he was implying. It was his way of comforting you, shielding you from your own burdening insecurities that never seemed to escape your mind.

“I could’ve remained angry and bitter, but now I captain my own ship and crew. The same applies for you—you may have experienced cruelty all your life, but you must take the reins on your own worth and decide what it is, dove.”

A blinding warmth shrouded you, like a blanket after being trapped in the icy cold, and you welcomed it with a smile. You’d never known Price to be so well with words, not int he way he was expressing now.

He knew what you needed to hear after being trapped in your own world of darkness, and he provided the light you needed to find your way out—all of them did. A glimmer of hope in a world full of loss.

“I am very thankful you kidnapped me,” you blurted, unable to contain your inner thoughts.

Price laughed, boisterous and loud, a smile washing over his face. It was a lovely sight, one that made your heart pound. Even through your pain, you found solitude in the aftermath, reaching a level of comfort you’d always wished to feel.

“I am happy to have you here despite it,” Price teased warmly. “I can say the same for the rest.”

You laughed, almost immediately regretting it at the shooting pain coursing in your side. He shot you a sympathetic smile, slowly standing from his chair.

“I will let you rest,” he said, giving you a gentle pat to your thigh over the blanket. Your heart jumped at the action, and you repressed it.

“You are not staying?” you asked, deflating.

“Soap and Gaz will be here with some more pillows soon. I must gather a plan so we can get you to a medic as soon as possible.”

It made sense, and you knew it was important. There was no telling what was flowing through the black veins, but your heart longed for more of his presence.

“Just for a moment longer?” you dared to request, voice small.

Price peered down at you from where he stood over you, a hint of surprise flashing on his expression before it softened. He nodded, reaching over to give your hand a gentle squeeze. You held on as long as you could.

“Just a moment then,” he repeated. “I will do it for you.”

You squeezed his hand in return, feeling as if you were on cloud nine. Your feelings were uncertain, but the more you spent with them, the clearer your vision became. It was an inner battle, forcing yourself to push them back in order to protect yourself. Now, though, you decided to allow yourself the comfort, just for a little while.

“Thank you,” you told him, unaware your voice had become a mere whisper. The air between you felt heavy, as if something unspoken was there.

Price glanced down at your hands that remained interlinked before shifting his gaze back at you. The gears in his mind were turning, and just as you were about to ask if it was alright, he beat you.

“I am not an emotional man,” he murmured quietly, seeming just as unsure as you were. “I make very stupid decisions and take paths I shouldn’t take. One of them is tellin’ me to kiss you, and I’m not sure if that’s alright.”

You froze in place, eyes growing wide. You were unable to look away, lost in your own little moment. Everything in you was yelling yes, yes, yes! and it was hard to ignore. You had always been weak in your feelings.

“Gaz tried to when I gifted him the telescope,” you said, unsure of why you did. “I hope that is okay.”

Price broke out into a smile, huffing out a breathy laugh. “So long as he did not beat me to it.”

You released a relieved breath, a shaky smile spreading on your lips. Price did not seem angry, and for that, you grew more enticed for a kiss. While your feelings for the others were all different in their special ways, having Price be the first was not something you could deny. It excited you more than it should.

Before you knew it, Price leaned down, capturing your lips in his own. There was no spark like you’d read in books you’d read at merchant stands when you couldn’t afford them, nor were there fireworks.

Instead, it was a calm sea that smothered you in peace, easing every worry that crowded your mind. They washed away, replaced with a warm buzz.

He was gentle, hand still grasping yours, the other coming to rest beneath your jaw. His skin was hot to the touch, rough from the callouses on his palm.

The moment wasn’t long, and when he pulled away, you wished you could reel him in for more.

“Rest,” he encouraged, his smile brighter than a thousand suns. “We’ll get you fixed up and better before you know it, alright?”

You nodded dumbly, your head empty. You were practically vibrating with excitement, the feel of his lips still tingling on yours.

He stroked his thumb over your cheekbone before pulling back, stepping away from the bed. He gave you a soft farewell, reminding you that the boys will be back soon and to try and sleep until then.

Once he was out of the room, the quiet didn’t bother you. It wasn’t maddening, driving you up a wall, suffocating you with loneliness—it was peaceful and kind, welcoming you with open arms as you slipped into unconsciousness, the images flashing behind your eyelids of the four of them in your life only bringing you true comfort after the storm.

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bunnys-kisses · 3 months ago

Note

can I pretty please get nanaimo bars,english muffin with the side of milkshake, frozen latte with Charles Leclerc 🥹🫶

bakery menu

the bakery is open and accepting orders! we're cooking up smiles every day! submit your own order! reblogs & comments are appreciated! thank you lovely anon for submitting this, it was something very different to write that i loved. size kink with charles is super interesting given how many people see him. but sometimes i forget he is close to six feet tall and built like someone who does f1. he may look sweet as honey, but there's probably something more sinister (sexually) going on in that brain of his, haha.

nanaimo bars ("who's my pretty girl? c'mon say it.") + english muffins ("aw, is someone crying?") + milkshake (size kink) + frozen latte (dumbification) served by charles leclerc (formula one)!!

cw: smut/pwp, size difference/kink, dumbification, teasing/dirty talk, crying kink, cry baby!reader, oral sex (charles receives), deepthroating, facials & cock slapping, safe words/signals, hair pulling

"mon cœur"

"la douleur dans ma poitrine."

"mon amor..."

"ma salope."

charles liked to make you cry. he loved when his mean words would curl up into your brain and make that waterworks come out. he was the prince of ferrari and of his home country. it's pride and joy. he was seen as effortlessly cool and could entice anyone. that smile, those green eyes. but even with all he had been afforded, nothing turned him on more than seeing his precious girlfriend's bottom lip wobble her eyes grow cloudy with tears.

he was running on high after monza, it was like everything was barking in the back of his head. even out of his driving suit and away from the track for the night, he could still feel the adrenaline. and while many would go for a run or spend the night with a drink in hand. he yearned for something different.

and when he saw you in his lavish hotel room, in one of his shirts and what appeared nothing else underneath. he knew that he was in for a treat tonight. with his bag down and his shoes off, he entered further into the room. he ended up by you on the couch and took you by the chin.

he smiled, "most take off the make up before they get comfortable." his thumb trailed under your left eye.

you replied, "i took everything off earlier and put on the mascara that runs easily." it was from a cheap brand at the pharmacy. perfect for what charles liked.

he chuckled, "you are just full of surprises, my love. you're going to be good for me tonight, right?" it was moments like these that you realized just how much bigger charles was. most painted him as short and frail.

he was just under six foot but built in a way to withstand the strain of racing. with large hands and thighs that could kill. his hand could easily fit around your neck as easily as his cock did to the back of your throat. there was a flicker in the greens of his eyes, the noble prince had stripped away into a hungry animal that yearned for you.

you swallowed, "i always am. always for you."

he tapped your cheek six times and you tapped his wrist once in response. even if these sick games where you cried and grew stupid on his cock, there were limits everyone had. charles didn't want to break your little world apart because he took it too far. he got on the couch next to you and undid his belt. your delicate hands helped him and dropped the leather to the floor.

charles held you face to look at him. he remarked, "you really are pathetic, so eager. i'm surprised you didn't stalk the halls looking for something to fuck your throat while i was out."

you frowned a little bit, "i'd never, honey."

he pinched your cheek a little harder than normal and leaned in, "right, right. because you're a good girl, my pretty girl. who's my pretty girl? c'mon say it." his words were enticing and it made your stomach flip.

"i am."

"you are pretty, my love." he said, "god blessed you with good looks because he knew you'd be stupid. add a dash of being a cock hungry whore and sometimes i get worried. i've never wanted to kill a man, but if another sank his teeth into you." his words were low and they made you curl in your gut.

if you wanted out, as a last resort. tap once then six times in rapid succession. charles liked to make your bottom lip wobble, but he wasn't a monster. he pulled you in for another searing kiss, his hand in between your legs. he felt panties as he rubbed his hand up.

he knew it was going to be a long night tonight. but first, he had his eyes on your pretty throat. after all his marks had faded over the week. while there would be press photos soon, they didn't mean he couldn't mess up the inside of your throat. even if you couldn't talk for the week, he was more than happy to do all the talking for both of you.

"stupid thing." he said, "you know that? i feel sorry for whatever school gave you your diploma." he acted like he wasn't at your graduation, "i bet you paid them off. or worse, sucked them off. little whore on campus, too stupid to actually learn anything except be on her knees and breath through her nose." he made a small noise of disappointment.

and charles got excited at the sight of you. that bottom lip was going, he could see the shudder in your shoulders. that struck a nerve, post-secondary was hard for you. you felt like people called you dumb without actually saying it. and charles' toxic words only added the fuel to the fire of doubt.

"aw, is someone crying? don't cry." he said, faking sympathy, "if you start crying then you won't suck my cock properly." he rubbed the back of your head as he watched the tears come down your cheek. he sighed once more, "silly thing."

soon your head was between his legs. he could feel your hot tears against the base of his cock as they streamed down your face. they weren't a rush of tears, but a slow trickle as charles' words clouded your head.

you started to work his cock and he felt the excitement in his body. it took a good while but eventually you learned how to deep throat him. he hissed and held onto the back of your head. you were both still clothed (or at least partially for you).

charles had a habit of running his mouth when your mouth was on him. and he rocked the blunt end of his cock up against the back of your throat, occasionally making you choke, he started talking. "i should throw you to the rest of ferrari. let them ruin you. then maybe you'll stop being so greedy for cock when you've had enough for a lifetime. i see how they look at you, my logo across your pretty breasts as you look so cute down at the paddock. if i waved my hand and told them to have their way with you, you wouldn't be getting far." he tugged on your hair a little and forced you up and down his cock faster.

you choked a little bit and sputtered, trying to catch your breath through your nose. it all was a deep throb in your head as you tried to cram as much of his cock into your throat.

"i'd say they'd make your ass ferrari red. but i think it would be closer to mercedes black. you wouldn't be able to sit right for months. maybe i'd be generous and let the other drivers have a chance too. crying on their cocks."

you sniffled, tears welled up in your eyes some more. while most despised having 'raccoon eyes', charles found it endearing. the poor little thing can't help but cry because she knows that he's right. you knew in your gut that you were at least a little cock hungry at all times. he watched you squirm in your seat at times while you let your imagination run wild.

he continued to use you to his liking. you were perfect. trained you from the ground up to be perfect on his cock. he caught glimpses of your face and your red eyes. poor thing, crying to much making a big mess.

so dumb, so small, so stupid.

he took his cock out of your mouth and rubbed it up against your cheek roughly. spit and pre-cum caught across your right eyelashes. his cock pushed your top lip up and he groaned at the sight. your tongue licked a bit of pre-cum that was dangerously close to your face.

"so small, i'm surprised you could take all this. i remember when i couldn't put it in without prepping you. then you spent all season training your cunt for when i got home. now you take me in every way perfectly." he licked his lips, "you know where you belong."

his words excited you as you put your mouth back on his cock. you whimpered as you felt it hit the back of your throat once more. he was big in a way that it made you squirm.

you continued up and down his cock, putting all your brain power (what little you had left) into taking him well. you coughed and panted, air felt in short supply as you got him to the base. your nose in his groomed pubic hair.

a picture perfect beauty, all for charles to devour.

he knew he was close. he could feel it in his bones and in the tension of his muscles. he then tensed up further with his hand in your hair and pulled your mouth off his cock (as much as it pained him to do that). with his other hand he stroked himself off quickly to the sight of your quivering, overheated body. you panted heavily and he finished all over your face. he streaked your skin white with cum up to your forehead. it dripped down your face as you coughed a little.

the debauched sight made him get a few more ropes up cum on your face before he settled down. he pulled your head back to look at you, you could barely have your eyes open. he wished he could take a picture. the white of cum and the mascara mixed tears created a sight that made charles run hot.

"now you look like a slut." he said as he got his jeans off. he rubbed his cock up against your soft lips before he slapped his still hard cock against your face, only making the mess on your cheeks more intense.

"charles." your throat felt raw from it. you looked at him and panted heavily, your tongue stuck out a little bit. and charles knew the night was far over. he fucked you stupid without stimulating your poor pussy. he wanted to see how stupid he could make you.

"we're not done yet." he said.

you tilted your head to the side, almost innocently as if your face wasn't a mess. you asked, "what?" your brain not capturing all the words properly.

he held onto you for a moment and said, "ten seconds to clean up your face. then i want you naked on the bed, or i'll fuck you on the bathroom floor." then let go of you and watched you scramble to clean yourself up. those words stuck in your blissed out brain even though you almost tripped over yourself.

charles chuckled and leaned further back onto the couch, his cock at full attention. even though the mascara was going to be gone, it was okay. you still looked just as pretty with just those tears streaming down your face. <3

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l4mplight · 4 months ago

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Miquella and Trina; A Tragedy

Hey Tumblr. I have a lot of thoughts about Shadow of the Erdtree, and these ones... let's just say I don't think they'd do well on Reddit. It's not often that I feel particularly impacted by a particular fictional character. Usually I connect more with narrative arcs and themes, which is why I think I'm so drawn to the ephemeral, vibes based storytelling of Fromsoft's games. Playing through SOTE, though, I found Miquella (and St Trina) to be extremely emotionally compelling and relatable, and I wasn't sure exactly why. I think I've put my finger on it now though. First of all, know that I am writing from the perspective that Miquella is a sympathetic character. I know that it's not uncommon to read him as a manipulative Machiavellian villain, but I think that's both a misreading of the text as well as just plain boring. Like, he's not a Griffith clone you guys, give From some credit. Anyway, here we go.

"You have no understanding. Of Miquella the Kind. Of St. Trina's Love.

Content Warning: I'll be discussing themes of depression, and the implication of suicidal ideation.

So, a classic Fromsoftware theme is despair, and the ways we cope with a world full of it. It shows up twice in Shadow of the Erdtree; with Midra and the Frenzied Flame, where despair leads to a selfish nihilism that asks us to burn everything down, and with Thiollier and St Trina, who offer sleep as a comfort to the weary. Running a small errand for Thiollier has him say the following.

"If you find yourself… weary of the weight of this life, then just give me the word. Sleep is a balm, and eternal sleep… is an elixir."

Drinking the elixir he offers will, of course, result in an instant death. This is our first encounter with the idea of "Eternal Sleep," a more potent form of the sleep status effect that only appears here in the Shadowlands, after St Trina has been abandoned. The Velvet Sword of St. Trina tells us as much: "Silver sword of St. Trina, now stained the color of velvet. Inflicts eternal sleep. When St. Trina was abandoned, the faint, light-purple mists coalesced into an intoxicating deep-purple cloud." In order to ascend to godhood, Miquella abandons first his physical body, and then the more abstract aspects of himself. As we begin to descend down the fissure where we'll find Trina, a cross marks the spot as the place where Miquella abandoned his love. This connects Trina, "the discarded half" as Thiollier puts it, with Miquella's love. Leda confirms this in her own dialogue:

"St. Trina's love for Kind Miquella is boundless. She is, after all, his other half. Or perhaps her feelings go beyond even that. Even if she was left behind, I doubt her heart would waver."

Keep that in mind, it'll be relevant later.

Near the cross, a spirit offers up some of the most heartbreaking dialogue I've come across so far. The spirit gives us a bigger picture of Miquella's goals:

"Kindly Miquella... I see you've thrown away... something you should not have. Under any circumstances. How will you salvation offer... to those who cannot be saved? When you could not even save your other self?"

I teared up at this. The emotional impacted was aided by the fact that I ran into the spirit right after telling Moore to put his past behind him, leading him to rededicate himself to Miquella. He says:

"Hm. Maybe that’s Kindly Miquella’s love. Love for all the unloved. Love, to banish the pain."

Note here that Moore suggest Miquella's love will "banish the pain." This is also essentially what Trina's sleep does. It's a comfort to those in need. Anyway, between these two instances, we end up with a pretty good picture of the sort of god Miquella wants to become. He was already sympathetic to the outcasts of The Lands Between in the basegame, where he built Elphael and the Haligtree as a haven for those rejected by the Golden Order, such as the Albinaurics and Misbegotten we find there. In the Shadowlands, he has gone a step further. Hornsent tells us that he has committed himself, in essence, to righting Marika's wrongs.

"Miquella has said as much himself – he wishes now to throw it all away. He says the act – though undoubtedly painful – will sear clean the Erdtree’s wanton sin. The truth of his claim can be found at each cross. 'Tis evidence enough to earn my belief."

Of all of Marika's children, Miquella is the only one to see the serious flaws in her empire. Ymir points this out to us as well.

"No matter our efforts, if the roots are rotten, then we have little recourse. Ever-Young Miquella saw things for what they were. He knew his bloodline was tainted, his roots mired in madness. A tragedy if there ever was one. That he would feel compelled to renounce everything when the blame lay squarely with the mother."

My thinking here is aligned with Mother Ymir. You really have to feel for Miquella; he has essentially taken on, alone, the responsibility of making up for centuries of Golden Order imperialism. That's a massive burden to bear, especially for Miquella, cursed with eternal childhood.

(It's easy to miss, but Miquella actually ages up significantly when we see him in god-form. Until he steps back through the Divine Gate, he would have looked and sounded like he does in the introductory art and in ending memory scene. Compare those with how he appears in the boss fight, and it's clear godhood at least helped him reach puberty lol) So we've established that Miquella is the child of Imperial Rome on Steroids, is cursed with eternal childhood, and is an empathetic prodigy with the weight of the world on his shoulders. Surely his mental state is perfectly healthy, right? Right??

Final warning, this is where things get quite sad. Here is where I will try to tie Miquella's arc together with Thiollier and St Trina, and the comforting oblivion and relief from despair that sleep represents for them.

As we search for St Trina, we descend down into the Stone Coffin Fissure. This is a place of death, with massive coffins built into the fissure walls, and Gravebirds, Bloodfiends and Putrescent enemies everywhere. St Trina is found at the deepest possible pit of this fissure, in a swamp of putrescence that has since blossomed into a garden of deep velvet lilies because of her influence. Trina offers us nectar of "eternal sleep," as Thiollier did previously, and as established then, "eternal sleep" is essentially nothing more than a peaceful death. Trina seems to fit in quite well in this place of ancient dead things, with some of the ancient remains even being compelled to fight for her in exchange for eternal rest, becoming the Putrescent Knight.

(Side note for levity because we're about to get sad again; I love this guy. It's a knight made out of the skeleton of a horse, riding on that same horse's decaying flesh goop body. Like, ugh. Beautiful. Plus, it may even have taken that shape because of Trina sharing Miquella's memories of Radahn, who was never far from his horse Leonard...)

We meet St Trina in her garden, and when we imbibe her nectar, we eventually begin to hear her voice in our death-dreams. She seems to pity him. Mourn for him, almost.

"Make Miquella stop... Don't turn the poor thing into a god..."

Trina appears to be in a bad state after her fall. She can only manage to get a few words across to us at once. Just as Leda predicted, her heart hasn't wavered. She is only concerned with Miquella's well-being.

"Godhood would be Miquella's prison. A caged divinity... is beyond saving."

Trina's most pressing concern is that godhood will be a prison for Miquella. Now, this could in theory be because gods are subject to manipulation from the Fingers and the Greater Will or a similar reason, but given that she calls him a "poor thing," I think there is likely a more emotional reason behind Trina's plea. I think that Trina is speaking as the embodiment of Miquella's love, but especially his ability to love and care for himself...

"You must kill Miquella... Grant him forgiveness."

...and she asks us to kill him.

In excising Trina from his being, I think Miquella also expelled the part of himself that was able to recognize how miserable divinity would be for him, and how miserable he was. The part of him that was tired of carrying the responsibilities that his compassion demanded of him. The part of him that was exhausted, despairing and desperate from having failed to cure Malenia, failed to save Godwyn, failed to perfect the Haligtree. St Trina is the part of Miquella that wanted to be stopped, to rest, to sleep, to die. In abandoning her as he does, Miquella is essentially repressing those thoughts and feelings, replacing them with more "selfless" ones; self-sacrifice, suffering on behalf of others, his martyrdom and apotheosis. I don't want to forget about "grant him forgiveness" either. She might mean forgiveness for failing to become a god, for not being good enough to succeed Marika and right her wrings. Maybe forgiveness for failing Malenia and Godwyn, or for leaving the Haligtree behind. Maybe even for abandoning her. But on the road to godhood, Miquella can't afford to indulge in this sort of self-pity. A child craves forgiveness and approval, a god must cast these things out.

"I'm feeling rather lost. Haunted by memories. Of St. Trina. Her visage. Her scent. The lure of velvety sleep. Would Kindly Miquella chasten me? For falling for St. Trina, while knowing that she was the discarded half? The problem is… I simply cannot help it. I would sacrifice everything, just to gaze upon her, one last time."

I want to mention Thiollier one more time here too. His primary visual motif is the long white braids that he wears on his clothes, reminiscent of Miquella and Trina's own signature braids (remember, she looked like an older feminine Miquella before her fall and injury). Thiollier is obsessed with Trina, pursuing her to hear her voice and fade into the comfort of her velvet sleep, though this doesn't kill him like it does us. I don't think Thiollier is connected to Miquella in any textual way, but I think he does serve as a reflection of the sorts of thoughts Miquella may have been surpressing. The self-pity, the need for approval and love, the feelings of weakness and uselessness. These are the things that lead Thiollier to pursue endless slumber.

Thiollier doesn't give in to that despair, however. Though he initially takes St. Trina's words... poorly, he eventually realizes what must be done, and dedicates himself to his new purpose: carrying out her final wish.

"I am here to serve St. Trina evermore. I am deeply sorry. For doubting you. I am here only to grant St. Trina's singular wish. I will stop Miquella the kind. He will never become a god."

This post is already quite long, but I also want to mention the obvious gender stuff going on here. There are a number of moments that make it seem as though St. Trina might actually be more than just "half" of Miquella. Firstly, as she is shown falling in the story trailer, Leda is describing how Miquella abandoned his fate, as if Trina had a vital role to play in Miquella's future. It also seems as though Trina isn't cursed in the same way that Miquella is; her voice and size indicate that she is at least more substantial than his "infant form," and she is depicted in "adult form, somewhat unnervingly" on the Torch of St. Trina. Furthermore, her "adult form" has a third eye in the middle of her forehead. The third eye is a symbol of enlightenment in both Hinduism and Buddhism; it seems that Trina has achieved some level of wholeness in this depiction. Meanwhile, when Miquella achieves godhood, his eyes remain permanently shut. He also appears to have only one physical arm. He holds Radahn with two incorporeal arms while casting with his real right arm, but his left arm appears to fade away to nothing before the elbow, as if unfinished. Miquella's blindness and asymmetry here, I think, reflect how unbalanced and incomplete his divinity is without Trina.

One more hint towards St Trina being a part of Miquella's future lies way back at the Haligtree. In Malenia's bossroom, just above where Miquella's cocoon was once embedded into the tree, the branches and roots appear to form a silhouette. This could be Miquella, Trina, or both, but I do see a certain resemblance to Trina's depiction on the torch in the way the "hair" covers the eyes. Given that Miquella's body appears to have grown a decent amount inside of the cocoon when we see in at Mohg's palace, it's possible that the cocoon situation was his original attempt to cure himself of his own curse, or perhaps become a part of the Haligtree itself. In the Shaman Village, Marika's home, there is a similar scene. A woman's body that resembles Marika seemingly mummified within the hollow of a tree. I honestly have no idea what to make of that just yet, but I thought it worth a mention.

So, with all that in mind, abandoning Trina seems to be even more significant. Not only has Miquella divested himself of his love and his fate, but maybe even his future, too. Being eternally nascent, he is always in a state of potential, after all. Am I suggesting that Miquella is a transfeminine character? That he was meant to grow up to become a goddess in the aspect of St. Trina, or maybe even more like Marika than he already is? Well, maybe. If you find it compelling, then absolutely. Fromsoftware's storytelling is always ambiguous, and is always design to leave us some room to read and interpret, to really play in the space we are given. Personally, I do find it compelling in a horribly tragic sort of way, fitting for the setting. It's also entirely possible that I have rather self-indulgently projected some of my own angst onto these character. I likely have, to be perfectly honest. It's rare that I really connect with a set of characters or a story like I have with this lot, and I hope that maybe some of you reading this will feel similarly. If you have read this far, thanks <3

#elden ring #shadow of the erdtree #miquella #st trina #elden ring dlc #miquella the unalloyed #thiollier #elden ring sote #elden ring spoilers #elden ring lore

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lipglossanon · 7 months ago

Text

Shimmer

Leon S. Kennedy x Fox Fem!reader <one shot>

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, very little world building, smut a plenty 😆, Leon POV, hybrid reader, teasing, flirting, kissing, dirty thoughts, dirty talk, nipple play, oral (f receiving), breeding kink, mommy kink, unprotected sex, creampies

not proofread ✌️ just a smutty hybrid au

title from Shimmer by Fuel

Leon couldn’t believe his eyes. You wind around the trunk of a tree, bright eyes locked on him as a little smile hovers on your lips like a secret. He swallows, tracking your movement, tenebrous colored tail flickering in and out of the tree line. He didn’t know he’d see a pretty little fox this far out.

Leon planned for his four day weekend to be a relaxing hike in the local mountains, camping for a night (maybe two), and then heading back home to veg out in front of the tv before the next work week starts. He’s been out here in the forest for a few hours now and finally found a place to bed down for the night when you appear. A gray fox isn’t as common as the red, but he’s heard people in town talk about the few that have been spotted out here in Arklay.

Leon doesn’t consider himself a hardcore outdoorsman, but he at least knows enough about the local wildlife. The closer you get to his little campsite the more enraptured he becomes; you’re absolutely captivating. His fire crackles and keeps him warm despite the chill permeating the night air; he’s afraid to move once you take a graceful seat on the opposite side of his fire pit, flames highlighting the hollows of your face.

“Hi,” you smile, sharp little fangs glinting at him.

“H-hi,” he croaks, throat dry so he tries to clear it.

“Camping, hmm?” Your gaze lazily drifts to his tent and satchel before landing back on him.

“Yeah, needed a break,” he shrugs, hands clasping together to give them something to do, “you live near here?”

“Now why would I tell a stranger where I live?” You laugh, a throaty sound that makes Leon’s blood run hot.

A flush overtakes his cheeks, “Sorry, I-I’m just making small talk.”

You laugh again, tail shifting to drape across your lap, “You’re cute. What’s your name?”

“Leon. What’s yours?”

He listens as you answer but his eyes can’t stop darting between your perked ears and soft tail.

“Do you want to pet me?” You grin, tail swishing back to your side.

“What—no, I mean, maybe,” Leon’s sweating bullets, mesmerized by you but also terrified you might rip his throat out with your sharp little teeth.

Smiling even broader, you stand up and make your way to him, folding down into a crouch in front of him. This close up, Leon quickly takes in your facial features before noticing the small black collar wrapped around your neck; his eyes trace down the modest sundress to your bare legs and feet.

“Aren’t you cold?” He murmurs, blue eyes roving back up to your curious gaze.

“No,” you smile, “but I’ll be sure to let you know if I am.”

Leon blushes and you look delighted, kneeling closer to peer up at him.

“You’re pretty far out for camping, little Leon,” you fingers graze over his jeans, sharp nails making his pulse race, “aren’t you scared you’ll run into some big scary animal?”

Swallowing, he shakes his head no, “I-I brought bear mace and I’m sticking to the game warden trails.”

He watches your head tilt as one of your ears flick back, listening to the dark forest behind you.

“Hmmm, you should be safe enough then,” your smile returns and Leon feels your tail brush across his arm, “want to see how soft it is?”

With hands steadier than his heart, Leon carefully strokes over the soft fur. It’s more silver than grey with a streak of black that ends at tip of your tail. Some white highlights catch his eye as his hand softly glides down the length.

“It’s lovely,” he murmurs, dazed eyes coming back up to lock on your bright ones.

“Thank you, Leon,” you purr, flicking your tail away behind you, ears perking forward, “you’re no slouch yourself.”

You let your nails brush across his sandy blonde fringe before pulling away. Leon doesn’t know what it is but he’s so drawn to you that his defenses are completely down. So he makes no move to stop you when you drag those sharp claw tips across his scalp and down his neck.

A low groan slips from his mouth and he jerks away, an embarrassed blush crawling up his neck. You laugh and inch closer, hands moving down to skate up his jean clad thighs before resting on his chest.

“Little Leon,” you coo, “are you feeling flushed? You look red.”

“I’m,” he coughs, trying to cover up his nerves, “maybe I’m just too close to the fire.”

“Do you need help to your tent?” You hold his gaze, your little grin showing off an incisor, “don’t want you to pass out.”

Your fingers drum across his pecs and he has the intrusive thought of you ripping into his shirt to tease his nipples. Biting back another groan, he nods jerkily.

“I should probably lay down,” he clumsily stands, watching as you easily stand next to him, hands hovering over his shoulders.

“I’ll help,” you take his arm and guide him the few feet away over to his accommodations for the night.

Pulling back the flap, you help Leon ease down onto his knees so he can kick off his boots before placing them inside next to the opening. Before he can thank you, you crawl in next to him, tail brushing across him as you splay out on his sleeping bag.

“Comfy,” you pat the space next to you, “come lay down, Leon.”

His cock twitches in interest and he quickly zips the tent closed; the light glow of the fire can still be seen through the mesh. Moving over to you, he copies you, lying on his side with his head propped against his arm.

“Figured you might like some company tonight,” your eyes drop down to his mouth, “don’t want you to feel scared.”

“Thank you,” he murmurs, pulse thundering in his neck as you shift closer, legs tangling with his.

“Maybe,” you murmur, lips ghosting across his, “you should get comfortable for bed.”

Without any other prompting, he quickly shucks off his jeans and socks before taking his shirt off just leaving him in his briefs. His cock sits half hard against his thigh and he watches as your greedy eyes take him all in.

“Mmm, not bad,” you grin at him, tail waving back and forth behind you.

He settles back where he was and you move into his space, lips kissing across his jaw before pressing softly against his own mouth. With a groan, Leon lets your hot tongue lick into his mouth, hips rolling forward until you finally push him on his back and lay atop him. You break the kiss once to stare down in his face while you rock your wet little cunt against his bulge before lapping at his parted lips.

Kissing you messily, Leon can’t stop from moaning and groping your ass through your sundress. The hard press of your nipples against his chest makes him grind against the apex of your thighs even rougher. Pulling away, you raise up into a sitting position over his lap. Your sharp nails tease across his pink nipples and his whole body jolts like he got an electric shock.

“Oh, Leon,” you grin.

He feels powerless while your fingers pinch and tug his stiff buds until he’s mewling and rocking up into your ass. Hands grabbing onto your thighs, he presses your dress up until he can see your bare cunt coated in clear slick that makes his mouth water.

“Sit on my face,” he pants, “fuck, sit that fucking chubby pussy on my face, please.”

“What a dirty boy,” you lean forward and bite his nipple.

Leon keens in his throat, a sharp high noise he’s never made in his life. Fuck, he thinks he might cum from just you abusing his nipples. His eyes flutter as your wet little mouth decides to suckle and tease his swollen buds; your sharp teeth scraping across them has his cock weeping precum, staining his briefs.

“I-I’m gonna cum if you keep that up,” he finally gets out, hands tangling in his own hair, “fuck, please baby, sit on my face.”

“I guess since you’re being so good,” you sigh, sitting up to pull your dress up and off, nude body coming into view for the first time.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he breathes out, eyes sweeping down your body.

Your ears twitch and you smile, “You’re so sweet, Leon. Now sit back so I can ride your face.”

“Please,” he whines, helping you crawl up his body.

As you move, Leon shimmies his briefs down and off his legs. Your knees then rest on either side of his head and you gently sit your fat dripping cunt down onto his face. With a moan, Leon’s lapping and sucking up all of the slick coating your pussy lips, tongue running up and down your slit. Settling more of your weight down, you relax against him and he humps the air, cock drooling everywhere as he licks your pussy.

“So good, Leon,” grinding your cunt down on his mouth, he flattens his tongue letting you rut against the slick muscle.

He moans, hands cupping your ass to keep you from moving off of his face. Even if he suffocated, Leon would die a happy man. Chillbumps race down his body when your tail brushes over his chest and stomach. The soft fur of your tail eventually drapes itself over his stiff and leaking cock making him lap eagerly into your cunt, tongue fluttering against your pussy walls.

“Right there,” you purr, nails carding through his hair and scratching at his scalp, “suck on my clit and I’ll cum all over your pretty mouth, Leon.”

More precum leaks from his slit, cock so swollen it aches. His eyes shut in an effort to control himself, control his thoughts before he cums all over himself like some virgin. You rock and grind down on his tongue, low moans filling the tent as he laps along your clit before sucking it into his mouth. Keening, you press your bodyweight down, making sure he stays suckling your swollen bud until your orgasm finally overtakes you.

Leon moans just as loudly as you do, drinking up your slick like he’s a man dying of thirst. You undulate in place until the overwhelming feeling of his mouth has you shifting back down into his lap with a pleased little hum.

“Fuck, you taste good,” he rasps, eyes blown out as he takes in your relaxed posture.

“Glad to know,” you tease, running your hands down his pecs and across his puffy nipples.

He lets out a low hiss but doesn’t stop your touches. Your soft hands drift down to the thatch of hair at the base of his cock before sweeping down his thighs.

“Finally,” you sigh, one hand slowly stroking his dick while the other cups his balls, “a nice fat cock.”

Said cock jerks and leaks even more into your palm, balls throbbing as Leon watches you play with his dick.

“Fuck,” he whimpers, slowly rocking his hips up, “you like it?”

“Mm hmm,” you purr, “I’ve had lots of men over the years, but you have the prettiest cock I’ve ever seen.”

A spark of jealousy lights in his chest but it’s washed away by the twist of your wrist around his tip making him lose all train of thought.

“I’ve been looking for someone like you,” you whisper, eyes flashing, like it’s a secret— Leon supposes it might honestly be, “someone to mate.”

His cock kicks, a glob of precum dripping over your fingers where they’re wrapped around his length. You use the sticky wetness to glide your hand more easily up and down his dick, slowly jacking him off. He groans, hips pumping but you only loosen your grip with a sly little grin.

“Please,” he murmurs, “it hurts.”

“Does it?” You pout, hand softly massaging his sac before tracing the seam down to his taint, “poor little Leon wants to cum?”

“Uh huh,” he drops his head back with a broken moan, “please, w’nna cum for you.”

“Oh?”

The way your voice piques with interest has his gaze lasered back in on your face. Your attention is focused on his cock but he sees the want sitting as heavily on you as he feels.

“Since you’re being so sweet,” your eyes flick to his and you hold the connection as you rub his cock over your slippery clit, mouth dropping open to pant.

“God, you feel so good,” he grunts, hands grabbing your waist, thumbs digging into your hip bones, “please, please.”

You press his cock against his stomach and glide your soaked cunt up and down—the world's most torturous pussy job he thinks dazedly. His tip leaks so much there’s a small sticky puddle of precum forming on his stomach as your slick coated pussy lips part around his cock, hole dripping and rubbing against him.

“You’re going to stretch me open so much,” you coo sweetly, tail swishing excitedly behind you, “hope you don’t cum too soon.”

Before Leon can even argue, you tilt his cock up and sink your pussy down on him; he knows he’s gripping you too hard, but he can’t let go when your hot little cunt’s sucking him in so agonizingly slow.

He’s babbling too, but fuck if he knows what he’s saying; whatever it is, you don’t mind since you’re giving him that same throaty laugh from earlier that makes him wanna spill deep in your greedy hole.

It feels like a lifetime before you start to bounce on his lap, pussy squelching deliciously, making his mouth flood with saliva knowing what you taste like. The pace picks up and before he can blink, you’re riding him rough and fast, pussy clamped down on his cock like a vice.

“I’m gonna cum,” he grunts, hands going to your hips ready to pull you up and off so he can spill all over your pussy.

He feels like a fucking teenager, not able to hold back on cumming inside your pussy like he’s never fucked a woman before. Hybrid pussy must be something else, he thinks dizzily, cock throbbing as your slippery walls pulse and throb around his thick length.

“Cum inside,” you moan, nails digging into his forearms so harshly blood runs down his arms.

The pinprick of pain makes him buck up harder into your spasming hole. His brain fizzes in arousal, dick buried balls deep in your soaked cunt.

“Can’t,” he gasps, “fuck, what if you get pregnant?”

His cock thickens at the thought, balls tight against his body, at the hint of knocking you up. You laugh, that throaty sound that makes Leon throb, and you grind harder down on his lap.

“Then mate me, little Leon, spill your seed deep inside and give me kits,” your lips spread in a smile so wide your fangs show, “breed my pussy like your cock’s begging you to.”

“Oh god,” he whines, “I-I can’t,” but he doesn’t stop himself from fucking into your pussy harder and deeper, balls aching to shoot his load.

“Aww you can’t?” You mock, guiding his hands up to grab your breasts, “can’t fill my cunt with your thick cum? Can’t breed a wet pussy that wants it so bad?”

He’s losing the battle. It just feels too good inside your fluttering walls while he rabbits his hips against yours, cock stuffing you on every thrust. He squeezes his hands until your tits spill over his fingers, nipples hard against his palms.

“Make me a mommy, Leon,” you croon, voice saccharine sweet in his ears and he nods before even realizing what you’ve said.

“M-mommy?” He slurs out, body flushed and overheated as he fucks up into your cunt.

You giggle and lean forward, “Mm hmm, you like mommies, Leon?”

He gasps, eyes rolling back as he leaks heavily inside your hole, “Ye-yes. Love mommies.”

“Good boy,” you murmur, dropping a dizzying kiss to his lips and he chases your mouth with a moan.

“Mommy, want you to be a mommy,” he babbles out, brain complete mush now from the arousal, “want you to be my mommy.”

“Ohh?” You sigh gustily and lean forward more, pressing your breasts into Leon’s face.

Taking the hint, Leon’s hand shift down to your ass so he can mouth and suck at your tits, licking and suckling your nipples as he thrusts sloppily.

“Mommy,” he murmurs, tongue lapping at the soft skin of your breasts before sucking a nipple into his hot mouth.

Whining, his eyes flutter shut. If he breeds your cunt, you’ll leak milk from these gorgeous tits. He moans loudly, the thought turning him on so much he can’t stop sucking your nipples. He pumps his hips up into your soaked cunt, feeling you drip slick down his cock to drip off his balls.

“So hard, Leon,” he distantly hears your voice, “being such a good boy for me, fucking your mommy so good.”

Mewling against your breasts, he bites the puffy bud in his mouth, tongue lashing against it until you’re squeezing and rocking down on his dick. He could fill you to the brim, bust his load deep in your pussy and keep you on his cock til it takes. Eyes rolling in pleasure, he swaps to your other breast, mouth greedily suckling the hard nipple into his mouth.

He pulls away, mouth brushing across the stiff peak as he looks up at you, “Mommy, gonna cum for you, gonna cum so hard in your pussy.”

“Good boy,” you smooth back the sweaty strands of hair sticking to his forehead, “if you fill me up you can keep me, a mommy all to yourself.”

His eyes drop to your collar and you grind down hard on his cock making him moan.

“This is to keep people from getting any ideas,” you smooth your hands down his chest, nails scratching at his abs and making them tense, “you can put your own collar here if you want.”

Leon closes his eyes, trying his best to behave. Having you in a collar he picked out? Coming home to you waiting for him, maybe even splayed out in his bed, wet and wanting his cock. Shuddering, he blindly mouths at your chest nuzzling until he finds your nipple to pull into his mouth with a rough suck.

“Mommy, ‘m so close,” he groans, “wanna keep you on my cock forever.”

You pull yourself from his lap with a loud wet suctioning noise that makes his balls draw up tight. The words to keep you sitting on his cock die in his mouth as you kneel down at his feet with your back facing him. You dip at the waist to press your chest into the sleeping bag as you arch your ass into the air. Your tail mesmerizes him for a minute before he scrambles up onto his knees behind you.

“So pretty,” he slowly strokes his hand down your tail and you moan longingly, spreading your knees to present your wet little cunt to him.

“Breed me, Leon,” you look back at him, ears twitching and teeth biting your bottom lip, “want you to fill me up.”

“Fuck,” he hisses, notching the head of his cock at your opening before slowly sinking inside.

His hands grip the fat of your ass, eyes unable to pull away as he watches your pussy eagerly suck his cock back into your slick soft heat. The first few thrusts are slow and deep, letting him luxuriate in the feeling of burying his cock in your hot little pussy.

“Harder,” you whine, hips pushing back, “give it to me, Leon.”

He lets out a pained grunt as he pumps his cock in and out of your tight hole. Leaning forward, he braces one hand on your shoulder to pin you down as his other grips your hip. The new angle lets him piston his dick deep and hard into your slick greedy hole. Moaning, Leon rabbits his hips faster and faster, balls smacking your clit on every thrust and making you squeeze his dick.

Moving the hand from your hip, his fingers seek out your slippery swollen clit and rub soft circles across the pudgy bud.

“So good, such a good boy,” you pant, nails clawing his sleeping bag to shreds, “god, you’re gonna make me squirt.”

The words turn Leon on so much he nearly blacks out. Chills race down his back and he teases your clit from side to side, dipping down to wet his fingers from the slick leaking from your stuffed cunt before pinching your bundle of nerves.

“Your pussy is so perfect,” he gasps, leaning back as he slides the hand from his shoulder down to grab the base of your tail, “gripping me so fucking tight.”

He tugs lightly and you keen, body thrashing wildly as your pussy clenches rhythmically around his cock.

“Fuck that’s hot,” he groans, chin dropping to his chest to watch him fuck your cunt.

The more he pets and tugs on your tail, the harder you squeeze down on his dick. Leon’s fingers also never let up on teasing and rubbing your clit while the fat tip of his cock kisses your cervix and makes you squeal.

“Leon, ungh— fuck, I’m gonna cum,” you slur out, drooling on the slick material of the sleeping bag.

“Please cum for me,” he keeps the same breakneck pace paired with circling your clit and tail, “want that fat pussy creaming my cock, mommy.”

Your body locks up underneath him and Leon feels a gush of slick push his cock out and wet thighs; quickly recovering, he shoves his dick back inside your spasming walls and humps your pussy fast and hard.

“You fucking squirted,” he whines, “never had a girl squirt on my cock and you fucking—god, I’m cumming, fuck, this chubby fucking pussy is making me cum, oh mommy—”

Leon nearly collapses as he presses himself as tight against your ass as possible, balls drawn up tight and pulsing as he spills deep inside your cunt. Your slick walls milk him for every drop— his dick spurting rope after rope of thick hot cum until it’s dripping from your used hole.

When he goes to pull out, you whine and press your ass back against him.

“Stay,” you sigh, “don’t want a mess just yet.”

Shuddering, he groans as your walls flutter and hug his cock. In no time, he’s just as stiff and hard as he was ten minutes ago.

You moan low in your throat, “You can go again?”

“Yeah,” Leon’s breathless reply surprises himself, cock flexing inside your pussy and making you whine.

The second time Leon creampies your pussy is rough and nasty.

Pulling out, he flips you onto your back and slips his cock back inside your cunt. Slick and cum ooze out around his fat cock, but he’s too busy pressing your legs up and over his shoulders to notice.

Mewling against his messy kisses, you clench and whine from Leon’s rough fucking. At this point, he can’t stop himself from giving it to you hard and fast.

“Gonna fuck your little cunt all night, mommy,” he knows he has no filter at this point, completely pussy drunk, but it doesn’t stop him from talking, “you’re gonna be stuffed to the brim, stuffed full of my cum.”

“Leon,” you moan, nails digging into his back and making him buck harder, dick knocking into your cervix roughly.

“Yeah? Like that? I’m gonna pound this hot little pussy til you can’t take it anymore. Fuck, ��m gonna give my mommy what she needs,” he growls out, feeling your heels bounce against his back with his thrusts.

“Want it,” you grin wickedly up at him, “give it to me, Leon. Be a good boy for mommy.”

He’s too wound up from earlier so in no time at all Leon’s cumming inside your pussy for the second time that night. His fingers pinch and rub your slippery clit until you’re clamping down tight on his cock, milking him into overstimulation as he finishes spilling his seed in your sticky walls.

Pulling out with a grunt, Leon collapses next to you with a sigh. Laying there in the quiet, he lets his heart rate drop back to normal before turning to you.

“You really want to get pregnant?”

You smirk and it makes his pulse race.

“No, that little issue has been fixed,” you kiss the tip of his nose, “but it’s fun to pretend, right?”

Leon’s cock twitches against his thigh and he nods.

“Yeah,” pink blooms across his cheekbones, “I liked it.”

Curling up into his side, he softly runs a finger across one of your ears.

“Can I really keep you?” He whispers.

Night sounds slowly seep back into his awareness as a cicada screams nearby.

“Can you truly keep a wild thing?” You muse humorously, head tilting back so he can see your bright eyes.

At his contemplative silence, you run your hands through his hair with a half smile, “But I want to go home with you, Leon. If the offer is there.”

“Please,” he blurts out, not caring if he sounds desperate or whipped, “I’d love for you to come home with me.”

Smile softening your features, you brush the fringe from his eyes, “Then, I’m yours.”

Relief and excitement fills his chest and he grins, “Perfect.”

#hybrid au #hybrid!reader #fox!reader #leon s kennedy #leon smut #leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x y/n #leon s kennedy x hybrid!reader #leon kennedy #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy x hybrid!reader

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felassan · 6 months ago

Text

Dragon Age: The Veilguard info compilation Post 4

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [another post]

Post is under a cut due to length.

There is a lot of information coming out right now about DA:TV from many different sources. This post is just an effort to compile as much as I can in one place, in case that helps anyone. Sources for where the information came from have been included. Where I am linking to a social media user’s post, the person is either a dev, a Dragon Age community council member or other person who has had a sneak peek at and played the game. nb, this post is more of a ‘info that came out in snippets from articles and social media posts’ collection rather than a ‘regurgitating the information on the official website or writing out what happened in the trailer/gameplay reveal’ post. The post is broken down into headings on various topics. A few points are repeated under multiple headings where relevant. Where I am speculating without a source, I have clearly demarcated this. if you notice any mistakes in this post, please tell me.

Character Creation

BioWare confirmed that even if you make your Rook a short king, the team has done work to ensure animations fit any character build [source]

"Dragon Age's character creator has seen a massive glow-up" [source]. "The volume of choices you get here are frankly insane. As Epler noted, “you could spend forever here,” and he’s not kidding." [source] The art and graphics teams spent a lot of time trying to make hair look amazing [source: the Discord]

In CC we can customise our "bulge size" [source]

Some more detail on the new lighting options to see how Rook looks like in CC when you make them: you can view them in "blazing forest sunshine versus the glare of an underground temple" [source]

"newly mobile, extra-hairy hair" [source]

Faction choice has statistical boons. For example, Shadow Dragon Rook deals extra damage to Venatori blood cultists [source]

Faction choice basically determines why Rook has been called to help in the fight against Solas [source]

All pre-determined character models in CC can be adjusted [source]

You can make a really tall dwarf if you want [source]

"Setting your previous world state is fully integrated into the character creator for Veilguard" [source: the Discord]

Inquisitor appearance will be re-created, there is no way to carry their appearance from DA:I into the game [source: the Discord]

Classes for Rook are not restricted in the sense that you can play any almost class, lineage and faction combination that you want. For example, a mage Rook can be a Crow [source: the Discord] (Fel note: it sounded like Rook cannot be a magic-wielding dwarf, even though the exception of Harding now exists) (Fel note: there is a mage Crow in one of the books)

Story and lore

Here is another article which refers to Rook as "the Rook" [source]

The story is set "9-10 years from DA:I and about 8 years from Trespasser" [source: the Discord]

They have been tracking Solas for "a while. Something else you’re gonna learn about…" [source]

The game does not use the Keep [source]

Shadow Dragon is the faction background with the most in-game reactivity (e.g. from other characters' dialogue) during the prologue section of the game, due to the fact that the prologue is in Minrathous and the Shadow Dragons are a Tevinter-based faction [source]

"I also saw a big moment after the gameplay trailer ends that I can't talk about" [source]

During the more narrative-heavy dialogue choices, "the game will also give a bit of context on what you're about to choose, but doesn't go as far as explaining the exact consequences or precisely what will happen thereafter" [source] "the game shows you how you’ll go about the choice, but it doesn’t tell you the consequence of that choice". [source]

"The game is bringing back Dragon Age 2s dialogue system, which was tone-based and resulted in its protagonist Hawke falling into one of three different personality states. You have three general tones in a conversation: kind, humorous, or aggressive, with slight variations depending on the situation" [source]

"Venatori blood cultists" [source]

"The whole game has the makings of another Suicide Mission [ME2], given that you are up against a god with the ability to collapse dimensions" [source]

"Choices and consequences". "Now, it seems you can see the effects of your choices like never before, and this time, they marry that choice with incredible visuals" [source]

In the bar when you're trying to get information in the opening, if you choose to fight it out and the barbrawl ensues, you then have to run from the pursuers in the bar [source]

A key concern of the developers when creating the environments was to make “a world worth saving" [source]

The prologue is quite linear but there are additional paths you can follow to find additional loot [source]

In the opening section of the game there is a dock which has been attacked and the soldiers that were there have been killed, "but rather than seeing this passively, we walked through the aftermath and had to interact with the scene to piece it all together" [source]

The tone of the gameplay video is a good indicator of the tone of the rest of the game [source]. On the tone: "dark fantasy" [source]. horror & gore is back along with DA's classic dark elements [source]

Tevinter Nights is a better tone indicator for the game than the original reveal/character trailer. Ghil Dirthalen: "Tevinter Nights has felt the most 'DAV' to me" [source]. The gameplay reveal video is the best indicator for the tone of the game (vs the character one) [source]. there is still messy dark shit in the game [source]

Tonally the game is closest to Tevinter Nights and DA:O [source]

Ghil Dirthalen: "[as] one of those unfortunate souls who has latched onto a media world so hard: This game is for me. For the hardcore DA lore nerds, I've been secretly screaming about things I saw for MONTHS now" [source]

The game is true to the DA stories we know and love [source]

Characters, companions, romance

You can choose to engage in companions' own storylines as you progress or ignore them entirely [source]

You will often have to make dialogue choices that will affect how your various companions treat you [source]

Neve is quick-witted [source], measured and elegant [source]

In the opening, you interact with the companions as you move through Minrathous. "your choices during these interactions will determine who goes on portions of the mission with you, along with how “pleased” they are with the answers." [source]

On Varric and Harding: "Instantly the two felt like they’d never been away and avoided the trap of being parodies or fanfiction versions of themselves" [source]

Solas' eyes were always purple hh [source] (yes!)

Gameplay, presentation, performance etc

Some enemies have additional shields that are weak to ranged attacks [source]

When asked about if the war table from DA:I returned, John Epler said "There is a table. Now, whether it works the same way as the table in the previous game..." [source]

Once you get passed a certain point in the game, it opens up dramatically, however it is not an openworld game and they wanted to make sure that all the content mattered and was a more structured, sculpted experience for the player. There is some exploration, some opportunities to get off the beaten path, and some spaces that are fairly wide [source]

The button to press to bring up the skill wheel is RB or R1 (depending on what controller you're using) [source]

"You'll also have access to two skills or spells for each of your two companions that you can command. For a more seamless, uninterrupted combat experience, you can also assign these skills to shortcuts (such as holding the left trigger and hitting the X button) to quickly use them" [source]

"booting Fade demons into pits" [source]

"BioWare have revised Dragon Age's art direction to make character models a little more consistent with the series' lovely Tarot-inspired menu art. Flesh is ruddy to the point of painterly; facial features and bodily proportions are thicker and more striking, as though the characters had been cut from clay" [source]

The 3 specs for Warrior are Reaper (has lifesteal/stealing health from enemies, and other freaky powers, does big damage), Slayer (can wield the biggest blade, big swords, big damage) or Champion, which is tanky, shield-using and Paladin like [source] [source]

There are quick-recover prompts [source]

You can roll through puddles of incoming AOE [source]

There are ziplines between some levels levels [source] (Fel note: just like in As We Fly... )

There are also slidey hills to slide down between some sections [source]

There are still some Hinterland-type areas designed for exploration [source]

We can do some home base management to our home base [source] (Fel note: this refers to The Lighthouse, detail in a previous post)

Camera placement is quite zoomed out [source]

Where Rogues have 'momentum', Warriors have 'rage' and Mages 'mana'. When a warrior spends rage in the ability wheel it triggers more powerful attacks. this has been referred to as a build-and-spend mechanic. this system resource gates your use of more powerful skills and is built by getting stuck in [source]. Momentum for Rogues is built by landing hits without taking any [source]

There are big glowing environmental cues for picking up loot or replenishing health potions [source]

"Epler noted that The Veilguard will not be an open-world experience like Inquisition, and instead will have large spaces to explore with quests littered throughout. This allayed my early concerns that they would course correct too hard from the oft-maligned open areas of Inquisition" [source]

Melee and ranged attacks can be charged up [source]

It sounds like there is an option to have greater guidance on when enemies are attacking [source]

The community council gave a lot of notes on the game's art direction to BioWare (gave feedback to the devs) that they were told and shown were changed from the first reveal/character trailer, these made it into the gameplay trailer [source]

The community council asked about having an arachnophobia mode, though they can't guarantee this was implemented [source]

"You’re encouraged to explore and grind for stronger weapons and gear, so your stats and cosmetics improve the further you get into the game" (in the sense that you’ll be rewarded for hard work) [source, two]

Follower information such as cooldowns and health will be visible on the HUD [source: the Discord]

There is a "quick cast" option if you prefer not to use the wheel, should be a chorded action using a controller [source: the Discord]

On PC you can play with keyboard and mouse or controller [source: the Discord]

An accessibility option is the ability to make auto-targeting stronger or weaker depending on your preference [source: the Discord]

The game will have DLSS support at launch [source: the Discord]

Re: hard drives, the game can be played using an HDD, they would recommend an SSD though for the optimal experience [source: the Discord]

There are lots of different interface options you can play with, e.g. combat text size, opacity, when to display health bars [source: the Discord]

Other

The leak from last year or whenever it was (the one that leaked screenshots and a gif from the game) was mainly a lot of outdated stuff and didn't really represent even the early version some community council members had played [source, two]. It was not leaked by a member of the community council, but by a member of another focus group [source]

The community council were given the chance to play the game twice, once in Fall 2022 and a year later in 2023 [source]

There is no information as yet regarding when pre-orders will be open [source: the Discord]

BioWare are hoping to at the very least have the very "best of" the Discord dev Q&A featured on social media and potentially in a blog [source: the Discord]

[☕ found this post or blog interesting or useful? my ko-fi is here if you feel inclined. thank you 🙏]

#dragon age: the veilguard #dragon age: dreadwolf #dragon age 4 #the dread wolf rises #da4 #dragon age #bioware #long post #longpost #video games #blood cw #mass effect #solas #dragon age: tevinter nights

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aratribow · 5 months ago

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For my BELOVED @itsredpaint !! ^^ And a LOVELY snippet from mah waif sarcassie!!

Dan Feng acts as if he doesn’t hear the subtle whisper of fur brushing against wood, nor see the sliver of light followed by a faint shadow as the curtain is pushed aside, nor hear the delicate steps approaching him until…

A tail—two, three, nine—appears in his lap, the fur as brilliant as the translucent traces of a first snowfall, the strands intertwined with the rays of the setting sun.

“And where might you have been?” Dan Feng chuckles fondly, turning the page of a manuscript he has been passing the time with.

Once more, he feigns ignorance as his hair is gathered with a gentle touch, claws tracing the skin of his neck in a featherlight tease. The life of a deity is often dull in its immortality, yet this unspoken game is a routine Dan Feng never tires of.

His response is a soft yet coy chuckle. “Have you come to miss your most loyal priest’s company so soon?”

Deft fingers thread through inky black hair, the movements so masterful it would be nigh impossible to notice if not for Dan Feng’s familiarity with the strokes.

“You are my *only* priest, Jing Yuan,” Dan Feng notes, amused.

“That only makes my words all the truer, does it not? The best—and the only one you will ever need.”

The deity breathes a laugh, which earns his hair a single sharp tug.

“Remain still. You would not wish to ruin my masterpiece, would you?”

“I would never display such disrespect to my most devoted priest.”

Several minutes pass in blissful silence, only interrupted by the occasional turning of a page or the relaxed swaying of a tail. Dan Feng sets to caressing the ones lounged in his lap.

“Are you perhaps attempting a distraction, Dan Feng?”

“I am deeply aggrieved you would accuse me of such a thing.”

Not long after, a pair of braids are let down Dan Feng’s shoulders, a clawed hand toying mildly with a tip.

“Is it to your liking?”

Dan Feng lifts the other braid for an inspection in spite of knowing he would love anything Jing Yuan created.

“Lovely as ever.”

The tails retract from Dan Feng’s hold in a satisfied twirl. The rules of the unspoken game dictate that he remains as he is, yet fond impatience makes him follow the movement with a turn of the head.

Jing Yuan’s ears twitch in the telltale manner they do whenever Dan Feng’s eyes are on him, and a tender smile curves his lips.

“You have missed me after all.”

Dan Feng smiles back. They may be bound by a contract—a deity and a priest, life force shared in exchange for servitude—yet their bond extends far beyond.

“I have, my darling fox.”

There is hardly a need for Dan Feng to be a deity with Jing Yuan.

#aratribow #my art #honkai star rail #jing yuan #hsr jing yuan #hsr dan feng #dan feng #fengjing #jingfeng #MAN I CANNOT THANK MY WIFE ENOUGH FOR MAKING FOOD LATE AT NIGHT TM #OSBSKSBSJ SO GRATEFUL AMAGAMAGANBSBSBSBSBSJ #ALSO FUCK SHIT UP FEESHY #i love yall sm fr

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pearlywritings · 5 months ago

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To think of lace - to lose one's mind

synopsis: that little game of teasing you started back home promises to keep your husband on his toes throughout the whole day. Will he manage to endure? And is it really a punishment or more like a reward?

pairing and characters: Alhaitham x fem!reader

tw: SMUT, established relationship (marriage), lingerie, petting, fingering, oral (fem receiving), unprotected sex

word count: 6.7k+ words

a/n: this the second part of A slip of the tongue and I highly recommend to read it first!

Ever since you bid your goodbyes to Kaveh and left the house, Alhaitham has been glued to your side. With your fingers wrapped around his wrist the two of you had a nice morning walk to the top of the enormous tree, where, upon entering the Akademyia, you immediately had many eyes drawn to you. It is almost funny how some of the students still get that stupefied look on their faces whenever your husband is spotted with you by his side, clearly not looking like simple colleagues.

You, however, ignore them, turning the opposite to the House of Daena direction and making your way to the auditorium of where your defense will take place.

The nuisance still appears in the form of some senior student, who practically jumps in your path and waves a stack of documents in your husband’s face. Oh, looks like someone is brave this morning.

“Scribe Alhaitham, I need your approval for-”

“Declined,” the man doesn’t even stop in his way, momentarily wrapping an arm around your waist and moving your bodies to step around the young scholar.

“What!?”

“Check my working hours next time. Besides today I do not accept anyone in my office or outside of it,” his hand squeezes your hip a little, and you roll your eyes with a smile. Of course, because he is making his priorities right.

Leaving the stunned student behind, you take a turn to the next corridor, which is notably emptier, and you cannot help, but tease him.

“Oh, am I making my dear husband abandon his duties? What a bad wife I am…”

“You are my duty too. So technically I don’t slack off,” his face remains stoic, though you take notice of how his hand still lingers on your hip - usually he is never this handsy in public.

“Sure, sure, if you say so,” chuckling, you lean into his side. The rest of the walk remains silent.

On the inside, however, Alhaitham’s thoughts are all over the place like an annoying buzz. The primary one is understanding that under these few layers of clothing the thin lace is kissing your skin, and his palm is directly there. The second one is of irritation, that you let him take a look, but never appreciate it properly. The third one is cursing at himself for being ruled by the thoughts of how appealing your body is, wrapped in that set of lingerie, looking like a perfect temple to worship. The fourth is rolling his eyes for the last comparison he did - Kaveh’s antics do rub off on him it seems. The current one is realizing that the next time he’ll manage to get a glimpse of the tempting sight is only back home, and until then it’s going to be many excruciatingly long hours.

Today is your test for becoming a Dastur. Right now it is his test for patience and sanity.

He manages to calm his heated mind down when you leave his side to go to the special stage from where you’d be holding your speech. The Scribe joins other attendants and members of the certification committee, but sits as far as he can and alone, to escape unwanted discussions and make his presence forgotten. Because he is here only for you, and he knows that you see him very well from where you are standing.

You smile when your gazes lock, and warmth spreads in his chest, which quickly travels south, when your fingers, as if smoothing your tunic, brush right where he knows the hem of your stocking is. Yes, it is indeed a test for his patience.

The title and introductory part is all good - his mind is cleared once again, and he admires the way you talk and demonstrate the valuable information on the slide behind you. But the longer he watches your lips move and body slightly sway and bounce when you take steps across the stage, the thinner becomes the string of self-restraint for not sliding his eyes all over your figure, imagining your without such unnecessary clothes. Until it snaps and he does. It’s a simple action, really - and no one would’ve noticed it, had they not been Alhaitham, who has been watching you like a hawk - you take a sip of the water. Just a sip, but the tiny droplet that escapes the corner of your mouth and slides down your neck and disappears under the hem of your shirt, makes the clothes before his eyes completely disappear, gleaming orbs following the imaginary path of the cooling bead on your smooth skin.

Has it been long since the last time the two of you were intimate? There is no other explanation for the man’s easily-rising excitement rather than the combination of the sexy look of his beloved wife and the lack of bedroom activities in the past month - you were too busy with preparing for your presentation, and he had a work trip somewhere along the way. He’d come home, eat dinner with you, spend time together, reviewing your work or enjoying reading his book and then go straight to bed. Of course he took notice that your visits to his office during hours at the Akademiya got fewer, but with how hectic your lives are, he didn’t give it much thought. Well, he should have.

And he definitely will tonight.

His strayed attention is back to reality and you manage to catch that moment, when in the clouded eyes appears the sparkle of clarity. Oh, you are enjoying this so much. Whatever your husband may say about Kaveh - the architect is a freaking genius. It was his idea to give Alhaitham some eye candy and then tease by not giving him more. At first you did not believe it would work, to which your blond friend only rolled his eyes dramatically, picking up his mug, and claiming that he was not blind and saw the way the ash-haired man at times devoured you with his eyes alone. Now, you see the artist really has a keen eye.

Yesterday you truly were annoyed with your partner (in the beginning) - even for a moment he didn’t want to stop and think and carefully choose his words and show you that he understands that you want some support from him and not a lecture. So now, even though you no longer hold any grudge against him, the payback feels so great. Besides you weren’t lying - having witnessed how the man was looking at you in the morning with a hardly concealed desire to touch boosts your confidence.

You want the typically reserved man to squirm.

Three hours. It's been three, goddamn, hours, that could have been one, if it hadn't been unnecessarily stretched with the attendees' stupid questions. Alhaitham didn't even care what looks he could attract, when he grabbed your hand and led you to his office, after you were dismissed for the committee to start an equally long discussion about your academic destiny.

The fireflies were bumping all over the walls of your heart when your husband finally dragged you inside the secluded space and slammed the door closed, locking it. It was your initiative, however, to take a hold of his cape's lapels and draw him close, luring him into a kiss. Your plan is far from its end after all.

"Habibti…" his voice is so breathless, hushed words caressing your plump lips, before he dives in again, kissing them, holding you tightly between his toned body and the wall in his office. You are so pliable in his arms, leaning into him, embracing his neck, fingers burying in the short hairs at the back of it.

On purpose you push your body into his hold eagerly, letting his palms slide over your waist and down to your hips, gliding over the curves in silent appreciation. With the stressful factor (the presentation) out of your way, there is undoubtedly neediness rising in your own system, your own realization of just how hot you would be with all the clothes off, and how enticingly would glint your husband's eyes once landed on your body again.

For a moment it gets hard to follow the plan and not give him a green light to have you right against the wall of his office.

However, you will yourself to keep your act.

Alhaitham groans in dissatisfaction when you break the kiss and draw your face back, putting the tips of your fingers against his lips, not allowing him to chase after yours.

"My love…" you make your voice extra breathy and borderline sad, looking at him with fake droopy eyes and lips drawn in a line. "I am so tired… You think I can use your couch to take a quick nap?"

It's so easy to see the shift in the man's expression. The attention he observes your features with. The hands that return to your waist, but sliding more to the small of your back to support your suddenly weakened body. The shaky sigh he releases and a gentle kiss he presses under your eye, where, conveniently, the evidence of your lack of proper regular sleep is quite apparent.

"Yes, my love, of course," watching him holding back once again, this time with your best interest in mind, is heartwarming and you lean close to peck the corner of his mouth.

"Thank you, habibi. I promise, we'll have our fun tonight. Can you wait for me?"

Closing his eyes and leading you to the couch he firmly nods. His self-restraint is admirable and there is just a tiny slither of guilt in your chest. But at the same time you know - some denying now will cause a greater experience later.

"Certainly. Give me a moment, I'll bring you more pillows."

"Spoiling me, huh?"

"Not yet, but I will," he holds your hand as you sit down on the plush couch Alhaitham demanded for his office's accommodation years ago. "You were great out there."

"Aw, thank you, dear," a bright smile lightens your 'tired' face, and your husband feels his heart skip a beat. If he had a genie to grant him one wish, he'd ask to see your smile every day till the rest of your lives. "Did you enjoy the way I shot all the Rajkumar's critiques down?"

"More than I probably should've," he quietly chuckles, kissing your temple and straightening to go and grab extra pillows. "I saw your scientific supervisor smirking smugly while you were at it.”

“Oh, yes, sounds like him,” you hum in acknowledgement, and the man hears some shuffling. It’s astonishing how quickly the whole mood has changed and, while you, without any doubt, appreciate it greatly, you can’t just not tease your beloved some more, right?

When he turns around with two pillows in arms though, his breath hitches - the view from before is once again in front of him. Mesmerized, he watches you carefully laying out your robe on the table, which leaves you in a white shirt only and those pretty stockings in sight.

“Love, mind grabbing a duvet for me too? I know you have one somewhere in here,” you don’t even look at him, sitting back down on the sofa, stretching those beautiful legs and letting the hem of the last proper piece of clothing left on you roll up your hips. Silently, Alhaitham walks to you, handing what he’s holding and getting a soft ‘thanks’. A minute later you are also provided with a thin blanket, and your husband receives a kiss on the inside of his wrist.

“You are the best,” burying the side of your face in a pillow, kicking your shoes off in the process of fitting onto the sofa, you let out a quiet yawn. “Wake me up in an hour alright? Bet they are going to be discussing for two.”

“Okay,” it’s hoarse and thick, falling from his dried lips, and you praise your boldness. A big palm slides under your ankles to shift your legs a bit comfortably under the piece of soft fabric, and you hide a smirk at his sneaky attempt to touch your clad in dark green legs.

Suddenly sleepiness actually overtakes your body, growing heavy and mind foggy - you were going to spy on him, but now an actual nap doesn’t sound so bad.

The last thing you hear is the scraping sound of the chair being drugged closer to the desk.

Alhaitham could barely concentrate on the papers in his hands. Your stunt - he really can’t come up with a better word for it - from before left his mind occupied way better than any volume before could. Sure, you’ve napped in the security of his office before, with a door locked and no visitor allowed in when you are over - but never were you this…enticing.

With an exasperated sigh, the Scribe lowers the documents and pushes them to the side, glancing at your soundlessly sleeping figure, hiding from him under that damned duvet, back turned to him and one of the pillows held close to your chest.

He sure as hell won’t do much in an environment like this - only if driving himself mad and aroused, which won’t do, at least not now.

Grabbing the back of his chair, the man carefully moves it, standing up and just as cautiously pushing it back. He could at least make some use of this hour - it’s been a while since breakfast, and he won’t be surprised if upon waking up you’d feel hungry.

Quickly writing a note and putting it on top of your robe just in case, Alhaitham picks his office keys from the desk and strides to the door, the carpet muffling his steps perfectly.

Four turns of the key later he is walking down the corridor and to the exit. The warm breeze caressing his cheek and running through the ashen locks the moment he steps outside is sobering. Lungs fill with air hungrily, making his broad chest rise and fall quite heavily, heart calming its wild pace. Archons, what his wife manages to do to him… In a process of punishing her husband no less.

The amused quirk of his lips is gone faster than anyone around him can register it, and the Scribe hastily descends down the many stone pathways. The bustling market he steps in is such a stark contrast to the quietness of the Akademiya, and it quickly overtakes his being, making the thoughts of you lose their grip on his mind. Maneuvering between the many people on each and every road, Alhaitham makes his way to the Lambad’s tavern, pace even and fast, his long legs being perfect for the task at hand.

However, halfway to his point of destination, an annoyingly familiar voice calls out for him, and only then the stoic man realizes - he forgot to turn on his earpieces. Truly, only you would make him forget even the most routine things he does.

At first he doesn’t even want to acknowledge Kaveh, pretending he didn’t hear him, but when a hand grabs his wrist, the Scribe is forced to stop.

“What?” The architect isn’t fazed by the irritation hidden behind those cerulean eyes.

“Where’s Y/n? Don’t tell me you actually left her on such an important day.”

“I did not,” it irks Alhitham how quickly his roommate jumps to conclusions, but, then again, you did “complain” to your friend about his idiotic attitude yesterday. “And if you are so concerned, why weren’t you present yourself?” “Because I had an important meeting with a client this morning and Y/n supports that,” he finally lets go of his wrist, putting a hand on his hip instead. “Besides, trust me, I was not going to sit there and watch you drooling all over your wife like a desperate idiot, I have enough of it at home.”

“My home.” “Your and your wife’s home, if we take law into consideration,” the blond huffs. “By the way, about that. You might think your face is all unreadable and stonelike, but I know your stupid ass long enough to recognize the look in your eyes and the thoughts behind them when your wife is simply mentioned. I can pretty much guess the events of this evening, so I’ll stay at Cyno’s tonight. Just wanted to give you a heads up.”

Oh, so your little plan was crafted by two people? He should’ve guessed that Kaveh contributed to it too. However, as much as it annoys your husband, he can’t completely brush off the usefulness of the architect at times. Especially when he intentionally and inadvertently makes your marriage so much better.

“Thank you,” the stunned look on Kaveh’s face is almost amusing, but he doesn't care to elaborate. Turning on his heels, Alhaitham walks away as if this short exchange never happened.

“What for?” He hears from behind and only quickens his pace to mix with the crowd sooner. “Hey, what for!? Alhaith-!”

This time the Scribe doesn't forget to turn his earpieces on.

Teasing and riling up your husband proved to be an amusing and pleasurable experience - one you’d really like to repeat again. His mesmerizing eyes have not once strayed from your figure for the remainder of the day, gazing at you as you slept, as you two shared lunch, as you were named Dastur and congratulated by many, as you smiled brightly, happiness radiating from your very being. His hand was unwilling to let go of yours whenever you had to leave his side, and immediately intertwined fingers with yours once you were back with him. His lips shaped in beautiful words of quiet praise for you, pressing a kiss now and then to the back of your hand, to your temple, the corner of your lips when no one looked.

It was amazing and flattering how his body gravitated towards yours in different forms and by the time you stepped inside your shared home, your mind was set on not torturing him any longer.

And since your husband assured you of Kaveh’s absence…

Alhaitham is almost taken aback, when you grab his hand and drag him to the closest piece of furniture to push him onto - a daybed in the lounge area, not so far from the entrance. The moment his back touches the cushions and he bounces a little, you are already dragging your robe off. When he pushes up on his elbows, you are straddling his hips in an instant, palms firm on his chest and a sweet smile plastered on your lips.

“Oh, my love, you’ve been such a good boy for me today…” your voice is as sugary as the words you grace your husband with. Applying some pressure onto his pecs you force Alhaitham’s arms to give out, putting him on his back again, which he doesn’t complain about. Next you reach to take his earpieces off and immediately gasp, when the man effortlessly lifts his hips with you on top of him, to untie the waist porch with a player inside. With the device out of the way, you are no longer afraid to take action.

Alhaitham grits his teeth and throws his head back, as you forcefully push your clothed pussy against his concealed length, grinding. Fingers curl around the collar of his tight shirt and tug, baring the skin of his neck, which in a moment becomes the victim of your eager mouth. His big palms fly to your hips, burying under the white blouse of yours and cupping the tantalizing curves you’ve been hiding and teasing him with all day. Green lace is pleasant under the fingertips and he has half a mind of tugging it off, which is quickly cut off by your lips sucking a mark right under his jaw. Alhaitham quietly moans.

“Mmm, how I love these sounds of yours,” you murmur against his ear, gently biting onto the lobe, sending a slight shiver down his body. “Much more enjoyable when listening to you lecture me.”

Ah, right. This whole thing was supposed to be his punishment. Even though right now, with the way you drag your cunt against his crotch, it feels more like a reward. Good to know you’re acknowledging his efforts.

Although he can do so much more to earn your forgiveness. Plus, he did promise to spoil you.

You gasp when he uses the strength of his body to roll you two over, pinning you to the daybed and hovering above. The man takes a moment to drink in your disheveled state; legs, clad in pretty stockings, brush against his thighs in an attempt to close and hide the wet patch on the front of your panties. Then there is that blouse, which rode up to your waist, and he doesn’t waste time reaching to undo the buttons, gently swatting your hands away when you try to deny him weakly. Once open it reveals the beautiful almost see through bra, and your husband thickly swallows at the sight of your perky nipples straining against the sheer material.

“The lingerie stays on,” he almost doesn’t recognize his voice - hoarse and thick with arousal, and it seems to be doing things to you, given how you squirm from just a few words.

He sits back onto his heels, busying himself with undoing the clasps of his cape and letting you lift your upper body enough to tug the blouse off. His top is the next piece to end up on the floor and the scholar can’t help but chuckle at how quickly you start palming at the hard muscles of his chest. You mewl when he pinches your left nipple through the bra in retaliation.

For now he leaves his pants on, going back to what you were doing just mere minutes ago - pushing his clothed semi-hard dick to your pussy. He doesn’t care if there is going to be a stain on the dark fabric, all he cares about is your scorching lips finding his and drawing the man in a kiss full of unresolved need. It’s nice to know you’ve been craving him the same way he has been you and your little game affected your body too. He rubs himself between your legs, rocking his hips with vigor matching yours, while his hands cup your soft breasts, squeezing and rolling the erected nubs with his thumbs.

He catches every single moan with his mouth, not letting you go for longer than mere seconds to gasp for some air. The room grows hot, or maybe it’s just your heated bodies, glued to each other and even more so with your legs wrapping around his waist.

Archons he needs to taste more of you, not just the lips.

A surprised, borderline dissatisfied sound leaves your throat when he breaks the kiss, but is quickly transformed into a pleased sigh, as Alhaitham starts laying a path of gentle pecks down your neck and all the way to the valley between your constricted breasts. With an index finger he tugs that little center gore between the cups, enough to bare some of your tender flesh, humming in approval after you reach to roll the straps down your shoulders, letting the nipples pop out of their lacy confines too.

Right as the left nub disappears in his hot mouth and is pressed on by that skilled tongue, your hands fly to the back of his head, fingers burying in the soft ashen locks. Back arches and pussy throbs - fuck he can feel it with his cock through those little barriers you still have on. Your husband sucks and is not disappointed with the breathy moan you release and another throb of your core, which he sure is making that spot on your new panties bigger. Maybe he should help you a little.

“Shit, aaah, fuck- Haitham!” He can feel your nails slightly dig into his scalp and body jolt when his hand disappears under the waistband of your sexy underwear, the pads of his middle and index fingers immediately sliding between your pussy lips.

“Who would've thought that one of the esteemed Haravatat Dasturs got herself so worked up, that the mere touch from her husband can force such a language out of her,” the Scribe can't help, but snicker, lazily toying with the same nipple by the tip of his tongue, before carefully taking it between the teeth and slightly tugging.

It feels like the spark of electricity shoots through your body. Especially as he taps your clit at the same time.

“You are- oooh~ very mean right now,” Alhaitham doesn’t need to lift his head to see your pout, but he does so nevertheless, leaning up to give you a reassuring kiss.

“Just trying to match my wife,” he murmurs against your lips before returning to your chest to take care of the neglected nipple, two fingers entering your fluttering hole. Your mouth hangs open in a myriad of moans as he sucks and kisses the areola, all the while working his quickly soaking digits in and out of your heat. Your typically patient and lazily teasing in bed husband is making quite a quick work on preparing your body, which has you smiling proudly at achieving your goal today. Sure, moving up the scientific ladder was a satisfying thing, but having your lover so eagerly caressing you is an amazing treat.

Alhaitham hums when your hips start rocking, trying to match the thrusting of his fingers. It’s not unwelcome, but tonight he feels like doing all the work. So, he finally leaves your wet and swollen nubs at peace and, traveling another path of kisses down your stomach, pushes your body further up the daybed to come face to face with your pussy. He smiles as your fingers comb through his messy fringe, putting it up and away from his face, and he loves how your breath hitches when he looks up at you with those magnetic eyes of his, right from between your spread legs.

Not breaking eye contact, he hooks the fingers of his free hand onto the front of your panties and tug them aside. He feels how you clench around the two fingers and when he draws them back next time to re-enter more comfortably, pushes the third in as well. You are the one to look away, throwing your head back and whining his name, and he, after sucking a blooming mark right above the hem of your stocking, dives in.

Having Alhaitham put his mouth onto your cunt is a rare treat, given how much he loves teasing you and how he’d rather prefer kissing your lips, swallowing your muffled pretty sounds. And because he knows how damn loud you get when he eats you out.

Just like now, moaning and whining and barely forming any sentences while his tongue and lips are toying with the sensitive clit, fingers curling to press against your g-spot. It’s no surprise that not a minute later your thighs clamp around his head and with a sensual arch of your back and a scream of your beloved’s name you cum.

The man doesn’t care that he is being suffocated, he keeps working his fingers and mouth to help you through this mind-blowing orgasm, and only when you start kicking your feet from overstimulation, does he stop fingering you and wraps both his big hands around your thighs, forcing them open. He loves the whining sounds you make and how you try to push his head away as he licks your swollen labia with the languid strokes of his tongue, flicking the tip every time it reaches the clit.

Finally he decides to have his mercy on you, placing a soft kiss to the hipbone and pushing himself up. As he wipes his lips and chin with the back of his hand, he can’t help but appreciate the disheveled state he put you into. Locks of hair streaming wildly on the mattress, the hooded look in your eyes and the mouth slightly ajar are drawing a beautiful picture. Accompanied by your bra being pushed down and panties aside, you remind him of the ancient sculptures, depicting the true beauty of the lover’s body.

Without a second thought he leans down to kiss you. Your shaking arms are a welcomed wrap around his shoulders and he slides his open palms under your back to embrace you tighter.

“So,” he begins after a few seconds of slow kissing, putting his forehead against yours, “would you like to continue here, my dear impatient wife, or would you like me to bring you to the bedroom?”

You think for a moment, playing with the damp hairs at the back of his neck - more to collect the shattered pieces of your mind than to anything else.

“Mmm… In all honesty, I don’t feel like moving to the cold sheets of our bed,” you eventually say after a couple of beats of silence. “And here it’s so warm already and comfortable… I want you here. Please.”

Well, if you ask so nicely.

“I am not dealing with Kaveh if he comes screaming at us for leaving stains here,” Alhaitham unwraps the lock of your hands and straightens his posture, before stepping down from the daybed to remove his pants and underwear.

“You’ll just have to be careful and cum inside,” you give your body a stretch in preparation of what is to come, letting out a pleased sound.

“Oh, I am not worried about myself, habibti,” naked at last, your husband joins you once again and, tugging the panties aside more properly, presses the tip of his fully hard cock to your entrance. “I’m more concerned about you dripping all over here.

“You-!” He effortlessly catches your hand and presses it beside your head, leaning forward and pushing the head inside. Oh, how quickly the annoyed look on your face changes to the surprised and then keening one. With every inch of his dick sliding inside, your chest rises and falls more feverishly, and more delicious sounds are drawn from your throat. A pretty unmarked throat.

Now, Alhaitham isn’t necessarily a possessive partner, but even he can’t deny the appeal of having his wife’s neck be littered with his marks. So when the last inch of him is finally settled inside you, he gives you a moment to adjust, instead focusing on sucking and nibbling onto the skin of your shoulder, slowly moving higher up the side of the neck, only to repeat all of this but in reverse for the other side. He can feel your arm wrap around him again, nails slightly digging into the muscles of his back, because you know very well, what a brutal pace your lover is capable of setting. Your breath hitches when your beloved grabs your hip, letting your other hand go, which immediately goes to his back too, and bracing himself on his now free one.

A couple of shallow thrusts are to test the waters, and when he gets a positive response of your gummy walls clenching around him but with no painful resistance, Alhaitham draws his hips back till only the tip stays inside and slams forward properly.

A whole month without sex shows in the fast pace he quickly sets, the deep strokes that stimulate all your sensitive places, the wet slapping of skin against skin with every thrust he delivers to your pussy. It’s also in the desperate need to be impossibly close to you, chest to chest and lips to lips, tongues meeting and moans shared. The way your legs wrap around his waist once again, attempting to pull him even closer, drives the man insane, because he feels the nylon of your stockings, he is reminded how gorgeous you are at the moment, and the memory of your teasing snaps the very thread of the sanity he’s been trying so hard to maintain throughout the whole day.

You curse as he uses the hand still holding onto your hip to move your pelvis in tandem with his, pushing you down onto the daybed when he pushes out and slamming you up as he thrusts in. The squelching sound is so dirty and there is a thought at the back of your mind that you sure are to ruin the piece of the furniture, but it is quickly forgotten when your husband groans into your neck, mouthing at your jaw.

“You’ve done such a great work,” he whispers, kissing over one of the marks, “I’m so glad I came to watch you. My most amazing, smartest, patient and forgiving wife. I love you so. Damn. Much.”

Each thrust accentuating his words cuts off your attempt to tell him he doesn’t need to apologize anymore, that he’s justified enough already with his prior actions, but it seems that Alhaitham wasn’t taking it lightly than he promised to make it up to you.

You scrunch your eyes together, tilting your head back as he keeps his eyes glued to you. Cock drilling in and out of you the man licks his lips, cursing under his breath at the particularly hard squeeze of your cunt. His expression is surely the same as yours - eyebrows pinched in pleasure, jaw slack, breath labored as he is driving you both to your peaks.

“Feels good?” He asks after another deep thrust that jolts your body a little. Clit is throbbing with the need of being touched and you mewl to your husband, begging just for it. He chuckles deeply and lets go of your hip, leaning back and grabbing your legs under the knees instead. In a second you find yourself folded in half with your handsome husband jackhammering into you. As asked, he also reaches for your clit, ribbing tight circles with his thumb, eliciting the loudest moans he hasn’t fucked out of you in a while.

“Better, beautiful?”

”Yes-!”

He groans, watching your body jerk and shake at his ministrations. He can’t take it anymore, his cock throbs at just a mere sight, not to mention the telltale rhythmic clenching of your walls, warning him of your rapidly nearing orgasm.

A wail you let out as you cum sends a wild shudder down your husband’s back, pushing him over the edge just seconds after you with a moan of your name. White shoots inside, painting your walls, filling you up with warmth, greedily milked.

It takes everything in Alhaitham not to collapse on top of you, but he catches himself right on time, one hand planted onto the mattress next to your shoulder, the other abandoning your swollen clit and sliding up your thigh to the back of the knee, gently rubbing. With deep shaking breaths he caresses the skin hidden under the nylon and then carefully puts your leg down, uncurling your body, to which you groan in relief - he makes a mental note to rub your thighs when he’ll be taking you to the bath.

For now he focuses on showering your cheeks and nose with fleeting kisses to make you squint, to hear you giggle. Your arms embrace his frame for Archon knows what time this night, and you lean up to leave multiple tender pecks on his face too and, as he quickly realizes, to try and catch his lips with yours.

Before he indulges you in your desire, Alhaitham swiftly puts his hand under your back to find the clasp of your bra, worried that the tender flesh of your chest has been squished uncomfortably by the bunched material. The relieved sigh you let out when the hooks are undone is chased after and successfully captured by your husband’s mouth.

With the bra thrown to the side, the man slowly slides his softened length out and immediately tugs your panties back in place, to prevent his cum from leaking out and onto the expensive looking cover of the daybed’s mattress. You whine at the loss, but he kisses you again, murmuring a promise of the second round, should you desire one after you finally move from the lounge area. Which you eventually do in a couple of minutes - not without the help of your beloved, your legs feel like that wobbly Padisarah pudding after all.

As much as you didn’t want to continue your evening escapades in the bed previously, the cool sheets are a nice contrast to your heated skin now, after Alhaitham put you down to prepare the bath. With a quiet groan you roll onto your back and lift one leg, pulling the knee to your chest to remove the stocking.

Just as you throw the sheer piece to the floor and lift the other leg, your still naked husband emerges from the bathroom.

“What do you think you are doing?” You note the strange undertones in his voice even before you turn your head to look at him and notice a small scowl on his face.

“Undressing? Weren’t we going to take a bath?” Confusion paints your features, thumbs already hooked under the hem of the second stocking. The man just sighs, shaking his head and walking to where you are lying.

“With all that teasing I’ve endured today, I assumed that unwrapping your body is the least compensation I could’ve had.”

“Oh, is that so?” A smile tugs at the corner of your lips and you straighten your leg, extending it towards him and touching the chiseled abs with your toes. “I suppose you are right. You’ve done a very good job today, being an amazing supporting husband that you are.”

Alhaitham catches your foot, holding it up and placing a lingering kiss to your calf, sending blood to your cheeks. Then he slides his open palm along the length of your leg, caressing it in appreciation, inching towards the slightly darker hem. Hooking his index finger he puts on a show of slowly tugging the nylon off, making the action so vulgar and hot with the bottom lip caught between his teeth and lids half-closed, that you feel the blood running south this time.

It’s almost sobering how earnest his next words are.

“You’ve brought it to my consideration that I tend to switch off my mind when I’m around you, spewing nonsense as a result. So, from now on I promise to pay closer attention to what I say to you.”

“Habibi,” you rise onto your bent elbows, foot still firmly held in his hands, “as much as I appreciate the notion, I want you to know I am not mad. And you’ve shown today that I do matter to you more than the discomfort of staying for long around other people and your distaste for big Akademiya gatherings”.

“Oh, believe me, I know you are not mad. If you were, you would’ve put all the books lying around the house into the bookcases and put the locks on them and then made me sleep on that very daybed yesterday,” a small smile graces his face and he gives you a knowing look, right before finally tugging the stocking completely off and lowering your leg. “But I still mean what I said. I know I am not a perfect man, but for my wife I am willing to work on my shortcomings.”

“I know you do, love, it was in your wedding vows after all,” you mirror his smile, pushing yourself up, not without a small wince at the feeling of his cum leaking out and wetting already ruined panties. “And trust me, I knew what I was signing for when I decided to get serious with you.”

“Hopefully you are not disappointed,” is a quiet murmur, as he gently holds your waist and helps onto your feet.

“Of course not. It would’ve been so boring if you were always agreeing with me,” he gives you a look, but you only laugh, raising your hand to cup his cheek. “Thank you for sharing this moment with me today, Alhaitham. It truly means a lot to me.”

“Yes,” he closes his eyes, leaning into your touch with serenity etched into his features, “I am glad I was there too.”

taglist: @meimeimeirin, @rjasmin2021, @callinz, @monamourbladie-mb

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #alhaitham x reader #alhaitham x fem!reader #alhaitham #genshin impact smut #moonlit pearl stories

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ghost-proofbaby · 6 months ago

Text

too sweet (astarion ancunin x reader)

"you know, you're bright as the morning, as soft as the rain. pretty as a vine, as sweet as a grape. [...] you're too sweet for me."

summary: astarion realizes you're too sweet for him, and he probably shouldn't let this go further than necessary. but, oh, he's going to. isn't he? (based on this request and the song 'too sweet' by hozier <3)

pairing: astarion ancunin x gn!reader

warnings: spoilers for games regarding camp dialogue with astarion, discussion of astarion's past trauma, talks of self-loathing/disgust with sex, vague mentions & allusions to sex having been had, manipulation at it's finest! minors dni.

wc: 2k+

a/n: i just wanted to get inside this man's mind when he drops that fucking line the second time he tries to sleep with us/tav. why does his face fall like that? why?

divider by @firefly-graphics <3

As Astarion observes the rise and fall of your chest in the soft morning light, he can only think one thing: shit. He fucked up.

And he had spent most of the early hours trying to retrace his steps, trying to decipher exactly where his monumental mistake had begun, but it seemed useless.

It could have been somewhere between the first and third bottle of wine shared with you last night during festivities, where he’d sweet-talked you to the high Hells until you’d agreed to return to his bedroll in the dead of night. Where he’d made the joke that wasn’t all that funny – the joke that he loved you. Three pretty words tried out on his tongue, and they hadn’t been nearly as light-hearted as he’d wanted them to be. More of an experiment, a quick sip to see if he liked the taste. And he had fucked up, because he did like the taste. He liked the sweetness that stuck to every corner of his mouth as he delivered the sugar-coated lie to you, his entire face falling as a new weight appeared in his chest.

But perhaps it had been the first night he tasted you – well, your blood, that is. The night he’d awoken from a nightmare of Cazador and in his vulnerability, had chosen you as his victim of yet another experiment. A test to see if he was truly free. One drop of a thinking creature’s blood, that was all he needed. But you’d given more than he’d bargained for, and your cloy ichor had coated his taste buds so addictively, and he had just known that night was only the beginning. It was the first time, but certainly not the last.

He thinks he could drink in whatever you offered him, and only that, for the rest of his days while still finding some sickly, twisted version of reprieve regardless. Not a drop more than he needed, always vying for more.

He’d be okay with that type of hunger, that type of yearning, and that might have been his first real mistake.

Or maybe, just possibly, it had been that very first meeting. Maybe he had doomed himself from the moment he’d pressed a blade to your neck, when he had dragged you to the ground with him and felt all that warmth, all that fear, radiating off of you. So frightful, and you still had offered your help to him when it was all said and done. Perhaps that was when he had well and truly screwed himself over. One simple introduction, void of his usual wine and flowers, and he’d locked himself in for pure trouble.

Not even the fun kind, at that. What a shame.

At the end of the day, or rather the beginning of the day as it is now, it doesn’t matter where his threads had started to unravel. All that matters is that they were – every carefully thought out line of his plans had all frayed, all detangled from the bigger picture, all because of you.

Heart of gold, blood of honey. You were far too sweet for him, and he knew it.

“Having fun, are you?”

“I am, it’s hard not to with you.”

You’d taken each of his tactics in stride, hadn’t you? Whereas his face had nearly crumbled beneath the weight of that beautiful lie, insides twisting uncomfortable as the humor had slipped through his fingers, your eyes had only glittered as you bit back a smirk. To so lightly tease him, to banter right back with him, instead of see the truth behind it all. He didn’t know if you were simply that naive or if you were another kindred soul – Perhaps you were finding just as much safety, just as much sanctuary, in whatever dance he’d dragged you into. An entanglement of lies, a blithe facade, a daring smile that whispers come now, play with me.

And play with him, you had.

You’d played with him, you’d drank with him, and you’d now slept with him. Twice.

“You’re up early,” your voice murmurs, silken tone cutting through all his racing thoughts.

He hadn’t even noticed you had stirred, rousing yourself out from underneath his stolen blankets to peer at him curiously as he perched on the edge of the bedroll. As far from you, and as far from your sweetness, as possible.

“Oh, you know what they say, my dear,” he chirps, rolling his shoulders as the act wraps him back up. The charismatic charmer. The illusive rogue, trained impeccably to coax you in and secure his safety, “No rest for the wicked.”

He’d awoken before you last time, too. Had watched the sun rise and enjoyed the warmth of it plastering across his skin long before you’d ever woken up. He half-hopes you’ll be less talkative this time; he half-hopes you’ll try to rope him into whatever discussion you can, if only for a few extra seconds of your attention.

You were too sweet. Too sugary on his tongue, too soothing in his chest. He shouldn’t entertain you – he shouldn’t let this go further than necessary.

You hum thoughtfully, the blanket slipping and exposing more of your chest. With the light flickering in from his tent’s entrance, he can easily spot those two scarring dots along your jugular where his fangs fit perfectly, “I don’t know if I’d describe you as wicked, lover.”

“No?” Roped into discussion, it is. “How would you describe me then?”

He’s not comfortable in this lighting. He feels feverish beneath your steady stare, the way your eyes take their time as you look over every inch of him. The languid observation has him convinced you’re seeing right through him – your glance can pierce right through all his armor and expose every flaw. You see him for the monster he is, you see him for the bitter soul he’s become, you see him as the unworthy spawn he believes himself to be.

He almost swears that you even see right through his nice, simple plan at hand, not so easily fooled as he had believed you to be.

“Charming, certainly,” you suddenly sigh, sitting up and keeping your body mostly covered still with that knitted blanket. He’d only snagged it because the shade of the wool nearly matched your eyes – not that he was paying attention to your eyes, of course, “But then again, you’d have to be to have bedded me twice now, wouldn’t you?”

“We can always make it thrice,” he banters back, ignoring the bile that builds at the insinuation. But if that’s what it takes – laying on his back over and over again – to guarantee your protection, he’ll do it. He’d do it a thousand times over to keep himself as far away from Cazador’s chokehold as possible, “Does that entice you, love?”

When he turns his body fully, beginning a carefully and calculated crawl up the bed roll, ready to slot his body back between your thighs and encourage you to have his way with him, you stop him. The heel of your foot delicately presses against his chest, your head tilted curiously before you shake it.

“Who’s the eager pup now, Astarion?”

He likes the way his name drips off your tongue. Almost as if he might be made of the same sugar and spice as you, the same pure honey flowing through your veins also inhabiting his. You say it like a song, articulate it like the sweetest fruit.

He shouldn’t like it. It shouldn’t be able to overpower his lingering disgust with himself so easily.

“It’s hard not to be eager when it comes to you,” he says the line with good practice, beckoning a purr to his tone that had always won over the victims he’d entrap in dark taverns back in the city, “I said the Gods had made you just to ruin me, and I meant it.”

He’d meant it more than he’d realized. It wasn’t just your body that had been sculpted to draw him in – it was everything. Your entire aura, your entire glacé demeanor. All that innocence and all that geniality enticed him more than he could ever admit. You were certainly going to ruin him, so wholly and so entirely. You’d already started to, really.

You don’t respond at first, and he swears he has you. You’re locked in on his distraction, caught up in his web, just as he needs you to be. One lithe hand lifts to your ankle, cool fingers wrapping around your warm skin as he begins to lower his lips, ready to pepper kisses up your leg. Prepared to offer you his mouth, his body, in return for the one thing he needs. Self-loathing be damned.

Old habits die hard, right along with pride, and he’s not quite ready to bury either at your grave yet.

But just as he presses the first chaste kiss to your skin, nearly taken back by how your sweetness still breaks through the salty surface, you’re pulling the limb away from him. Your knee draws back and a disarming smile has risen on your cheeks, eyes glittering at him just as they had the night before.

“I suppose I’ll have to come find you when everyone is asleep, then.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

What exactly had he been waiting for? You, of course. But had he been waiting for you to find him solely for what had transpired? To explore your portfolios of talents once more, as he had put it? Or had it been for something more… precarious?

Was he nothing more than a prey, waiting for you to be his demise?

Had he actually been waiting for this?

The challenging look in your eyes as they reflected back stars, the warmth of your skin so close to him he nearly melts into you. The upturn of the corners of your mouth, outlining the way you certainly know something that he doesn’t. A look you wear well, a look that shakes his foundations and rattles his bones.

“As tempting as you are, I’ll have to decline. Duty calls, as they say.”

Can you see right through him?

He should be more deflated when you start going through the motions; he should be pouting or overthinking it all as he watches you gather your clothes once more, covering up the few bite marks of his that litter your skin. Every moment you prepare to leave his tent should be one spent overthinking where he’d gone wrong – why didn’t you want him? Was his plan even going to work?

Were you truly too sweet for him? Would he have been better off trying to romance the likes of Gale for the safety just shy of his grasp now?

He doesn’t, though. For once, his mind is quiet as he watches you patter about. The bile retreats, the disgust fades. For the first time in a very long time, Astarion is leaving this interaction not feeling used.

Maybe it’s in the way you cheekily snatch one of his shirts as you both pretend he doesn’t notice it, or maybe it’s in the gentle caress of your fingers through his hair as you pass him to pick back up your discarded weapon. Maybe it’s in every shy glance you offer him, or maybe it’s in your ever present grin.

Watching you leave should worry him, but it only feels like a breath of fresh air. A wind that comes sweeping in with the promise of next time just as you pull back the flap to his tent.

And he hadn’t realized he’d been waiting patiently for you to turn back to him until you do just this, offering him one final glance that sets him aflame, “Oh, and before I forget – you can feed on me tonight, if you need to.”

Heart of gold, blood of honey. He couldn’t say no even if he wanted to.

“Then I’ll see your delicious self tonight,” he takes a pause, one big and unnecessary breath filling his chest alongside that warmth you bring to him. The fearless leader, the kindest soul. His most apt nickname for you yet falls off his lips in a content sigh, “My sweet.”

He shouldn’t entertain you – he shouldn’t let this go further than necessary.

But he’s going to. Gods, he is going to.

After all, the sweetest fruits always fall from the most forbidden branches, do they not?

#ghost's stories #astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion x tav #astarion fanfic #bg3 #god i fucking love this song #idk why i really like the heart of gold blood of honey line #when i wrote it it really scratched an itch in my brain? it's probably stupid #no taglist except for reblogging on my makeshift tagging blog because i still have been too lazy to add astarion to the options #womp womp

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