#but still like. pets should be a two way street.
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panpteryx · 2 years ago
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Oh yeah so they are! I was mostly thinking about exotic pet care guides, which (due to reptile YouTubers) I suspect may be the primary way people find out about snakes and other less-appreciated species. They do have a tendency to blur the lines between “common, not endangered, native to [local region]” and “uncommon, at risk from poaching, native to [far away region]”? At least, the guides I’ve seen usually only mention foods other than rodents if the snake might have difficulty recognizing frozen/thawed rodents as food.
The conflict between “reptile YouTube spreads awareness and appreciation for species people typically consider to be distasteful” and “yeah but their information is often inaccurate and the husbandry is poor 90% of the time so is the appreciation worth it”, I guess
….though now I’m wondering if my ball python would like an egg as a treat, they eat a lot of birds in the wild and I’d be surprised if they didn’t eat the eggs too. guess I’ll do some research lol, chicken eggs *are* pretty big so they might not be safe, but maybe quail…
This is a gentle reminder to those who keep poultry to PLEASE keep in mind wild snakes if you are using fake eggs in your chicken coop. Snakes are incapable of digesting the wooden/plastic/ceramic fake eggs that are commonly placed in chicken coops to train hens. Snakes (like this little ratsnake here) can and often do eat these fake eggs and suffer life-threatening obstruction as a result!
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If you need to use fake eggs in your coop please strive to ensure that the enclosure is snake-proof (difficult) or superglue 3 or more eggs together so that snakes cannot consume them and become obstructed.
#snakes are really cool you guys#but also maybe double check the regions#and also animals in the wild invariably have behaviour a thousand times more varied than those in captivity#imo it’s the responsibility of any pet owner to provide an environment where the animal can do as many of those behaviours as possible#and also make sure the animal is being sourced in a way that doesn’t hurt the wild population#bc like. I actually think many good things come out of the exotic pet trade?#having thousands of eyes on a species means we’re going to learn things that would never have been possible to discover otherwise#and also let’s be real here habitat loss and climate change hurts the wild populations a thousand times more than the pet trade#so live capturing is more the icing on the cake/another small stressor on top of all the ones they’re already having a hard time with#rather than THE one danger to wild species#(live capture for the pet trade that is)#but still like. pets should be a two way street.#trade offer: ​you get [enjoyment of animal]: animal receives [safe environment with no predators and consistent access to food]#if the animal is gonna be stuck in a drawer and doesn’t have opportunity to perform natural behaviours and not all of it’s daily needs met#then it isn’t getting anything from the bargain and that’s just like. unfair.#which is why I generally advocate for keeping species that (in the wild) are already frequently found around human habitation#(like my mourning geckos which have a really wide range and are frequently just straight-up found in houses)#or that you can be absolutely positive you’re able to keep in a situation that’s a close enough facsimile to wild#that they can perform the vast majority of their natural behaviours#(which should also be a goal for the common species)#….and like. I’m including cats/Guinea pigs/rabbits/dogs in this#bc they ALSO have a lot of care requirements that are often not met even though they’re domesticated#….and for that matter humans too actually#humans in ‘the wild’ are highly social tenacious semi-arboreal problem solvers that alter their landscapes heavily to suit their needs#the current trend of keeping them in 10x10x8 boxes and making them interact with hundreds of strangers every day#and not letting them manipulate their environment unless they ‘own it’#is just straight-up inhumane! they should have everyday climbing opportunities and more predictable social structures and more enrichment#how do you know they wouldn’t use it if you don’t give them the OPPORTUNITY to use it#…..anyway yeah#……I may have opinions on this
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birbycakes · 11 months ago
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one last ramble- when it comes to working with animals I'd rather work with wild animals than pets, like as a vet or something. I just don't think I'd have the heart to deal with sick pets and people grieving for them/having to put them down/etc. It's just... different when it's a wild animal. It's still sad but a different kind of sad.
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rabbitblackx · 2 months ago
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AHASDBROFBDVSJ FINALLY!!! THE REQUEST I GOT!!!
Art the Clown sees his next victim (reader) and trying to make her uncomfortable only to get uno reversed so hard that he is doesn't know if he should kill her to end his misery or just swallow the pill and go fuck it and they become killer besties.
Art The Clown When Reader’s Weirdly Okay With Him
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Art found you eating alone in a diner one night, slinking over to your booth with his trash bag over his shoulder. He slumped down across from you, glaring into your soul with his mad eyes. You glanced up from your food, a grin meeting your face. His scowl soon became a broad smile too, eyes wide as he silently stared. You only grinned bigger yourself.
You and Art both smiled at each other in an intense silence for about a minute. If anyone else was there, they’d certainly be creeped out. You got the impression he was trying to make you uncomfortable, but two could play it that game.
“Cute bag. Where’d you get it?” You joked, nodding to the trash bag of weapons next to him. Art just kept on smiling, holding insane eye contact. “You’re kinda cute too, ya know? I like the black and white.”
He waved your compliments off bashfully, fanning his white face as if it was going red. You giggled and kept egging him on, teasing and playfully flirting. Art was surprised by your nice demeanour and lack of fear, feeling entertained by it. You were way more fun to be around compared to his past victims. Too bad you had to die. :(
When you finished your meal and paid, you bid farewell and left the diner, but Art followed like a dog. You glanced over your shoulder as you walked down the dark streets, grinning at him.
“Hey, you coming along?”
Art nodded enthusiastically, shuffling behind you with his trash bag. You could still tell he was trying to freak you out, but you weren’t there yet.
“Okay then. Let’s go!” The clown kept following you down the quiet streets, anyone passing looking disturbed at his appearance. “You’re a good guard dog. You keep the creeps away!”
Art tilted his head at your remark, eyeing you in a funny way. Why weren’t you scared? Couldn’t you tell he was a creep himself? It was beginning to grow annoying how nonchalant you were about him. This was getting old. Scream and cry already!
Art kept following you, and debated grabbing a hammer from his bag. Your back was turned and no one was around. A good whack would do you good right about now! But he refrained.
The killer kinda liked your voice. It’d be a shame to cut your vocal cords, and you had probably been the nicest and funniest person to him yet. He wasn’t used to the kindness.
Art grew pissed. You were annoying! Be afraid! He poked your side angrily and you squeaked.
“Hey! What?”
He glared and pouted. You tilted your head with a playful grin.
“What’s the matter, boy?”
Okay, as frustrating as you were, he had to keep you. Art didn’t know why, but you cooing at him almost like he was a pet… kinda did something for him.
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mactavishsgfandwife · 10 months ago
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Simon "Ghost" Riley and Your New Cat 🌷
simon having beef with a stray cat you brought home silly little idea i had no content warnings, just cute fluff, female reader :3 not proofread!
i just realised the cat’s name changes half way through 😭 i’ve fixed it now - 04/11/2024
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"What the hell is tha’?" he laughed, rubbing the back of his neck as he stared in disbelief at the little black kitten in your lap.
"I found him. He’s called Lettuce," you grin, cuddling the cat to your chest. You’re well aware that lettuce is a stupid name for a cat, but it just seemed right at the time. The kitten was tiny, and had seemed very weak when you’d discovered him shivering in a box outside your apartment block. Now, he seemed a lot more comfortable, making a little home for himself on your sweater. He was so small - he literally fit in the palm of your hand - but his frizzy black hair stuck out at every angle so that he looked less like a kitten and more like a wiry pompom.
"Love," Simon laughed, rubbing his face with a sigh, "Lettuce looks like a flea. Where the hell di’you find ‘im?"
"Oi, he does not! Well, maybe a bit. I found him in a box. He was meowing at me, he looked so cold…" you stroke the kitten’s cheek with your thumb as you he meows up at you.
"You can’t keep him, he might have diseases. You should give him to a pet shelter." Your boyfriend wasn’t being harsh, he was just worried about you - he didn’t want your little heart breaking because you’d got all attached to a poorly little kitten who might not last the week. But it didn’t come off like that.
"Wh… what..?" you frown, cupping the kitty in your hands to protect it.
"I’ll drive you to the shelter tomorrow, okay?"
"What? Si, no!"
"Baby…" he sighs, trying not to upset you "you can’t just find a scruffy animal on the street and take it home."
"S’what I did with you ," you pout, pulling the same face at him as Lettuce pulls at your sweater sleeve as he paws at it.
"Look," he crosses his arms, about to explain to you the reasons why you two don’t have the space for a cat, nor the prior knowledge. What if the cat walks in on the two of you in bed? What if it bites you and his pretty girl gets hurt? What if you end up loving the cat more than Simon and it steals you away? But your pleading eyes and the tiny, stupid looking kitten chirping in your laps convinces him. If you really wanted anything, you know he’d get it for you, so he’ll let you have your silly kitten.
"Alright, fine. For now." He laughs, ruffling his hair.
"I love you! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! I love you!" you squeal, gently placing the cat down before jumping up with and wrapping your arms around your boyfriend. He rubs your back softly, watching the stupid fluffy ball on the sofa chirp for your attention. Just because he’s letting you have the cat doesn’t mean he won’t see it as his mortal enemy.
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The next morning, after having gone out to buy cat food for you, Simon is sitting on the sofa, softly kissing your neck from behind. You’re sitting in his lap… completely ignoring his affection in favour of the kitty.
"Si, look! He can walk!" you grin, holding the kitten up so it looks like it’s standing on two feet.
"Mhm… cute…" Simon mumbles into the nape of your next, a strong hand wrapping around your waist to pull you into his chest. He is not watching the cat, he’s busy with you.
"I know right!" you ignore his advances still, gazing at your new pet with adoration, "I should make him a little hat, he’d look so sweet."
"Yeah, fuck, you’re so sweet…" Si keeps kissing you, moving between your neck and your shoulders, which are hidden inside his old tshirt.
"He’s so cute," you grin, stroking the back of the kitten’s head until it purrs, "I love him so much… he’s my baby."
That catches Simon off guard. He would never admit it to anyone, but he loves it when you call him your baby. He’s the only one you should be calling baby. This cat is stealing his girl. [gasp]
Si shoots the kitten a death stare.
"Oh yeah, he’s your baby?"
"Yeah, he’s the cutest…"
"Mhm. I’m sure," he pouts. When you’re not looking, he glares at the cat and points from his grey eyes to its little beady ones, like he’s trying to intimidate it.
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A few days later, the two of you fall asleep together, with Simon spooning you and holding you close. But you forgot to shut the door. So your boyfriend is rudely awakened by a very small, scruffy kitten stomping on his chest.
"No, oi, get off of me," you can hear him grumbling sleepily as you start to stir, alongside the cute chirping of your kitty.
"Listen, Lettu- cat. Stupid name anyways. We can’t have you disturbing the Mrs, alright?"
You can hear him pause until he hears the kitten meow softly in response.
"Tha’s right, soldier. She’s my Mrs, not yours, and if you so much as try to change that, I will never let you see her again. My girl. Mine," he pouts.
The kitten meows again, as if he’s responding to Simon’s orders. You have to try your hardest not to giggle, biting your lip in the dark as you listen to your big, tough boyfriend have an argument with a little kitten.
"Alright, now leave the lady alone." You almost think you can hear him plant a kiss on the cat’s head before he sets it down at the side of the bed.
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You’re away for the weekend, visiting family, without your boys (Simon and the kitten). :(
Simon’s fine, he’s a tough guy, he has no issue being alone - that is, until he’s poorly and he needs you to cuddle him and make him tea. But you’re not there, and talking to you over the phone only makes him feel worse.
So he resorts to laying in bed, in the shade, trying to nap. Poor boy feels too ill to do anything else (he has the man flu).
With the back of his hand over his forehead, one leg over the covers and one leg under, not quite sure whether he’s awake or asleep, he closes his eyes and frowns. A little black ball hops up onto his bed, waking him up a little.
It plods around in a little circle, looking around and exploring its new environment. When the fuzz creature spots Simon, he waddles over curiously, his little feet sinking into the soft duvet cover.
"Hey, cat," Simon smiles softly, watching the fluffy baby wander and get closer to his face. It looks up into his eyes, chirping, and brushes its fur against his cheek before settling into the crook of his neck.
He chuckles, closing his eyes as the tiny guy curls into a ball against him. The rivalry isn’t quite over for Simon, but that funny looking kitty is a little piece of you, and he’s happy to have its affection.
When you come home, it’s to the two of them, cuddled up on your bed. Silently, you change into a t-shirt and slip into bed behind Simon, planting a little kiss on his cheek.
"Told you he was cute."
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how i imagine your kitten 💗
i spent way longer on this than i thought i would but it’s so cute and i loved writing it! hope you enjoy lovieeees
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familyvideostevie · 2 months ago
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all of it still matters
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joel miller x fem!reader | 2.4k
you get sick and, much to joel's chagrin, refuse to take it easy.
jackson!joel, fem!reader, fluff, fainting, ellie and her dog that i invented for some reason, kind of plotless but who cares! it's all about love in the end, anyway.
a/n: welcome back to our lovebirds from just and just as. be gentle, please. it's been a while.
--
The sky is a brilliant orange. Golden hour, they used to call it.
It's probably a little too cold to be sitting on the front porch but you can't help it on an evening like this. You tug a fraying flannel of Joel's tighter around your shoulders. It's worn at the elbows and he reminds you that he'll fix it if you release it from your clutches but somehow that never happens. The journal he made you is open on your lap, almost full. You've taken care to write down not only your memories but the stories he and Tommy tell about their lives before, the day-to-day of Jackson, the jokes Ellie is particularly proud of. She recently recounted a birthday trip to a museum, laughing as she told you about pushing Joel into the water.
You take a sip of your pine tea. It's chilly through the whole day, now, and soon the morning frost will be snow. Winter was hard for a long, long time, but now it's comfortable. It means lights up in town, children throwing snowballs, community meals and dances. It means warm nights under your blankets with the furnace of a man you sleep next to, soft salve on chapped hands, a slowing down of the Infected sightings.
And it means Joel chopping wood. He should be doing it in the back yard -- usually does -- but this evening he's finishing up the trunk pieces Jesse left by the steps. A big tree had gone down at the edge of the town clearing and everyone got a few pieces once they'd split it up. Joel will no doubt give Ellie at least half of what he cuts.
The benefit of him doing it out front is you get to watch. His back is to you, but you can see the way his sleeves are rolled up, the damp hair curling over the collar. The exhale when he brings the axe down, the flex of his shoulder blades when he tugs it free of the stump. You could watch him do anything.
As if hearing your train of thought, Joel wedges the axe in the chopping block and turns to face you. He runs a hand through his hair, silver strands catching the orange light, and huffs.
"Enjoyin' yourself?" he says.
You grin at him. "I'd say so."
Two things happen at once. A headache blooms without warning at your temple, sharp enough that you wince and press your fingertips to the skin there. Joel notices and takes a step towards you but then a dog barks and his attention is drawn down the street.
"Naledi!" Ellie yells, jogging up the street after her dog. "Come on, we've talked about this!"
Joel glances back at you but you smile at him, ignoring the blooming pain in your skull. Naledi -- named after one of those characters from Ellie's comics -- runs right up to Joel and noses at his knee until he pets her. The animal loves him. You don't blame her.
"Jesus," Ellie says once she reaches the steps up to the house, panting. "She can run." She looks at the yard and scowls. "Aw, shit, Joel. Did you finish all the wood?"
Joel, one hand scratching behind Naledi's ears, levels her with an unimpressed look.
"Ain't gonna chop itself," he drawls. "Last thing we need is you holdin' an axe."
"Rude," she gasps. "You steal my dog and make fun of me. Are you hearing this?"
Ellie looks at you in mock outrage, cheeks pink from the cold. She's not a teenager anymore, but falls back into it so easily when Joel teases her. It's a treat to witness.
"I don't know, Joel, you've seen her --" You stand in the middle of your sentence and the words stop coming because your vision swims. Black spots dance across the yard and you pitch forward to brace yourself on the railing.
"Oh, fuck," Ellie says. Joel is up the porch and next to you in a blink, arm around your waist to steady you.
"You okay?" he asks, low and serious.
The spots disappear and you take some deep breaths. "I -- stood up too fast, I think."
Joel remains in your space for a few more seconds. Naledi barks, watching the whole thing with a tilted head from the grass below.
"Ellie," Joel says. "You wanna finish up the wood? I think we're gonna go inside."
"Totally," she replies. "Yeah, uh, go lie down, or something. We've got this."
Joel ushers you into the house and sits you down in the kitchen. The sun no longer peaks over the mountains so he flicks on the overhead lights, which make you groan. He's back by your side immediately, tipping your head up with a knuckle on your chin so he can look at you.
"Think you might've caught somethin'," he says. "Bout that time of year." He presses the back of his hand to your forehead and frowns.
You circle his wrist and tug his hand down. "Just tired," you say. "The overnight patrol is catching up with me."
"Hmm." Joel leaves you be and starts to fix you something to eat. You know better than to argue and, frankly, you don't have the energy to make something yourself. He sets some buttered toast in front of you and leans on the island to watch you take a small bite.
"Something to say?" you manage through a mouthful of bread.
He shrugs. "You should go to bed early." It's barely sunset but it sounds like a good idea. "You going to be okay to work tomorrow?"
Your shift at the stables with Ellie. Pretty easy, as far as labor goes. A good night's sleep should make it bearable. "Yeah, it's just mucking stalls."
"Hmm," he says again. You know what that means -- he's thinking, he's decided, he's preparing, but he'll let you reach the same conclusion in your own time. He won't force you into anything, never does, but he most certainly has an opinion.
You change the subject. "Did you grab my journal?" Joel nods and pulls it from his back pocket to set on the table next to your toast. You take another bite to appease him.
"Almost done with that thing," he says. "Gonna need another one."
"If only I knew someone who made them," you tease. That gets a gruff laugh out of him.
"What you writin' about today?"
"You, Tommy, and motorcycles." Tommy had told you all about the famed birthday ride at the last family dinner. Everyone had heard the story but you, so their voices overlapped about a hundred times as they fought to be the one to explain.
Joel chuckles. "You ever been on one?"
You take one more bite of your toast and push the plate away. He's on it in a second, taking it over to the sink.
"No," you reply. "I don't even know the last time I saw a working one. Just stripped metal out in the wild."
"Think you'd like it," he says. "Good way to see things. Bit of an adrenaline rush."
"Yeah, because there's a shortage of that these days."
The joke falls flat and your eyelids start to droop so you don't see Joel's reaction anyway. Your head throbs.
"Bed," Joel says, softly. Hands on your shoulders, rubbing up and down your arms. "C'mon."
He ushers you up, hand on your back on the staircase. He waits while you brush your teeth and helps you into an old shirt and threadbare pants with a gentle touch.
When you're settled under the covers he perches on the edge of the bed and lays his hand on your forehead once again. A frown makes its way back onto his face and he checks your cheeks, your neck.
"I'm just tired, Joel," you mumble. "It's alright."
"Hmm." He kisses the inside of your wrist lightly and stands. "Gonna go check on Ellie, alright? I'll be back soon."
You fight to keep your eyes open and fail.
__
You feel like shit in the morning. Your head is pounding, your body aching. But you've had worse -- you've had broken bones and bruised ribs. You've been sick, you've been tired, you've been scared. This is nothing compared to life and death. You can muck a few stalls with a headache.
Joel isn't here -- a note on the counter says he got called to fix someone's sink and that he thinks you should stay home. You ignore it and head to the stables, taking deep breaths and walking slow.
Ellie shows up not long after you arrive and finds you leaning on your pitchfork in one of the stalls. Your stomach is churning but you're upright, still.
"You look like shit," she says.
"Thanks, kid," you grumble. "Where's your dog?"
"Dina's taking her on the trails today." They've been training Naledi to smell and track Infected.
You sway a little and make some noise of assent.
"Dude, are you sure you should be here today?"
If you leave now, she'll have to do the stalls herself. "I -- let me do a few more. I'm fine. It's alright."
She gives you a look she almost certainly learned from Joel but doesn't argue.
You are fine...for a little while. Ellie seems content to let you work in silence but you feel her eyes on you as you shovel shit and old hay. Just one more, you tell yourself. Then you'll go home and lie down. One more turns into two turns into three until you're scooping a big pile of straw and the spots dance across your vision again.
"Oh," you say with a gasp, and reach out for the wall, for something, anything to lean on. But your hand finds only air and then you're tipping, tipping, and you hear Ellie's Oh shit! and then --
Nothing.
No, I caught her before her head hit the ground. Are you on your back? Wait til she wakes to move her. Sounds like Esther. God, it smells like shit in here. Someone's hand on your forehead. He's coming --
You blink a few times and the roof of the barn comes into view. A groan makes its way up your throat without permission.
"Fuck," you say. "What --"
"Jesus," Ellie exhales. She's on her knees on one side of you, tugging at her fingers. "God, why did you come to work today?"
"I--"
"Where is she?" Joel's voice echoes through the barn and you try to get up on your elbows when you see him. The sudden movement makes your head pound again and hands on your shoulders help steady you. You're blinking into Joel's face, his creased brow and frown deepening as he kneels next to you.
A warm, weathered palm cups your cheek and his gaze catalogs the scene. He does this a lot -- takes in as many details as he can and makes a quick choice on how to proceed. It's a well-honed ability, one that's kept him alive this long. It's kept you and Ellie alive, and countless others in his company, too. Knowing how bad something is, and whether or not you can fix it.
He huffs, some of the tension melting from his face. "Just tired my ass," he mutters. "How're you feelin'?"
"Guess I fainted," you say weakly.
Ellie snorts. "No shit."
"Guess so," Joel echoes. "You wanna get up?" You nod. He does most of the work, arm around your waist as you stand and sway and end up tucked into his side.
"Surprised your knees work this well," you mutter. He makes a low noise in his throat and squeezes your side but otherwise ignores you.
"Think we're gonna go home, if that's alright," he says. You realize the crowd is a little bigger than you thought. Ellie, Esther, and some of the younger boys who work the horses stand nearby. Your head pounds too much for you to be properly embarrassed. You'll have to thank Ellie later for keeping an eye on you but for now, you let Joel lead you out of the stables without waiting for a reply.
Joel walks you home slowly.
"Did someone come get you?" you murmur. He nods.
"Kid said you fainted," he says. "I see you ignored my suggestion this mornin'."
"Yeah, but if I stayed in bed you wouldn't get to be a knight in shining armor."
There is a small voice in the back of your head that reminds you how bad it can be to be sick in this world. You've all seen it -- sickness takes a few people every year, a handful in bad ones. This is probably just the flu. You know that and Joel knows that. And even that can be dangerous, but you're here with the one man in the world who could defeat pretty much anything. Joel, who will keep you safe, who will see you through it. You really, truly believe that. And you want him to believe it, too.
"How polite of you," he says.
Your boot catches on the ground and you stumble a little. Joel slows you to a stop.
"I'm fine," you remind him. "Just sick, I guess." He huffs but you start walking again. "You really looked worried back there, you know."
"Yeah, well." You reach the stairs up to your house. He tightens his hold on you, practically taking all of your weight as you go up them one at a time. "Was worried you fell into some horse shit. Smell up the whole damn house."
That gets a laugh out of you. He gets you up the porch, across the threshold.
"You gonna listen to me this time?" he asks, sitting you down on the entryway bench. "Stay home, rest up?"
"I'll think about it," you sigh. "You gonna take care of me, Dr. Miller?"
He kneels in front of you to take off your boots and smirks. How many times have you done this? Peeling off each other's boots after a long day. When one of you is sick, when one of you is hurt. Your head is pounding and you almost certainly have a fever but Joel's gentle hands and familiar smirk sets you at ease. You're going to be doing this forever.
"C'mon," he says. "You know I'll take care of you."
He tucks your boots under the bench and puts his palms on your thighs. You lean forward to kiss him and miss by a mile, lips landing at the corner of his mouth.
"My head hurts," you say against his cheek. "I love you."
Joel sighs. "I know, baby," he murmurs. "I got you."
He does.
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sixosix · 1 year ago
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SLEIGHT OF HAND | LYNEY
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summary you will not let lyney get to you. unfortunately, lyney already got to you the moment you met eyes. after all, what is a magician if not an expert in stealing hearts?
or, local sumeru architect goes to fontaine looking for inspiration and comes out of it with three rainbow roses and a crushing magician.
warnings 13+, gn!reader, follows the fontaine archon quest, so there are major spoilers throughout the entire fic! MURDER (lyney trial spoilers) + feminine french pet names ough + bff!Aether loml + sweet talker lyney + KISS SCENE (suggestive)
notes 8K words. thank u to my french bff art @aanobrain who said lyney is a magician he would say mon lapin 🤧❤️ + other various french pet names. thank u to ellie hyomagiri & earthtooz too for hyping this up, my supporters…
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“500,000!?”
Sumeru streets are always bustling with its people—from children skipping around the neighborhood to frantic scholars who zip back and forth before returning to their homes when the moon is high. However, the sun is beating down on everyone right now: street vendors are making a profit, dogs are barking as they play fetch with laughing children, and you stand across the blond traveler and his floating companion.
You wince at the volume of Paimon’s shrill voice, inciting bypassers to send miffed glances your way. Embarrassed, you cover the side of your face with a hand, whispering, “Is—is that not enough? I can—”
“No, no, it’s not that!” Paimon’s arms flail around, eyes blown comically wide. “It’s just, you know, more than what we earn from our daily commissions combined!”
“Oh, I see.” you nod, relieved. “Well, I can lower—”
“No, no, no, no,” Paimon interjects hurriedly, and even the traveler shakes his head. “Pleasure to do business with you! Paimon and Aether, at your service!”
“Really?” you can’t believe your luck—the traveler himself agreed to escort you to Fontaine! Or does it count if Paimon agrees on his behalf? “That's a relief. Even Katheryne of the guild had a strange expression when I posted my commission.”
“It’s probably because of the amount of zeroes you might’ve accidentally put,” Paimon murmurs.
Aether tugs on her foot as if warning her. “We'll be leaving soon. Are you prepared?”
“Oh, yes. My stuff’s over there by the bench, you see?”
Aether and Paimon’s faces simultaneously fall. “All of that?” Paimon starts counting it, gaping when she has four little fingers held up.
They sure complain a lot. “You can still back out.”
Aether takes a deep breath, making his way over to your luggage. When he brushes past, you hear him chanting 500,000; 500,000; 500,000 under his breath. He wordlessly carries all of them, his chest puffed and expression grave.
“They’re heavier than I thought,” Aether wheezes out as Paimon flits worriedly around him. “How long are you going to be staying in Fontaine?”
“Oh, just a day or two, maybe,” you say, taking pity and taking one bag from him. “Most of what’s inside are art supplies.”
“Ah,” Aether says.
“500,000,” Paimon reminds him.
“We’re close,” Paimon says, flying back to where you and Aether are still walking behind, him heaving and you offering water now and then. “I saw a huge ravine-looking view! It was like a city on a waterfall!”
“R-Really?” Aether puffs out a breath, sweat rolling off his temple.
You tried prying some of your bags away from him when it seemed like there were monsters up ahead, but he refused instead to fight them with one hand on his sword. He still won. You guessed that he was trying to make traveling easier for you, yet all you felt was immense worry.
“Are you feeling okay, Y/N?” Paimon asks, floating beside you. “You look unwell.” You should ask your companion that, instead.
“I’m a bit nervous. After all, it’s my first time traveling outside of Sumeru.” You smile, patting her head. She doesn’t seem to mind, beaming back. “But I need to get out of my comfort zone to be better, right?”
“That's right! Paimon has a feeling you’ll enjoy Fontaine!” You and Paimon glance at Aether when he heaves a heavy breath, yet he only waves the pair of you off with his free hand. “Before you know it, you’ll be itching to travel again once you’re back in Sumeru.”
“I'm only there for work. I just need to learn a lot, and then I'll enjoy it.”
“Still a student through and through, huh…”
“I can see it,” Aether chimes in, looking all too relieved to rest his arm finally. “I can see Fontaine up ahead.”
You feel the cool breeze brush against your face, a refreshing change from the past hours you and the other two have been trudging through the desert. You could strip off layers and dive if you could. You can make out the harbor even miles away, pouring water out like an endless waterfall stretching for miles.
Arriving in Fontaine is introducing yourself to the rustle of layered skirts, the water-kissed smell, and citizens left and right babbling about tragic endings and thrilling climaxes.
Aether sets your bags on the floor with a heavy exhale. Paimon feeds him with another jug of water.
“I guess we’re here now.” You pull out a heavy pouch you’ve been keeping in one of the bags Aether had been holding over his shoulder. Paimon takes it with greedy, greedy hands. “Thank you for keeping me safe and carrying my luggage, Traveler— are you even listening to me?”
“There’s a girl over there,” Aether says, now staring ahead.
You and Paimon turn to look; sure enough, someone is standing by the edge, looking forlornly over the water. Half of her foot is off the platform, making Paimon fidget.
She gasps. “She isn’t going to jump into the water, is she? Maybe we should go check on her…”
Halfway through Paimon’s sentence, you gathered the courage to speak to the girl with the cat ears.
“Hey, miss.” Her ear twitches. “Is something the matter?”
She turns, looking faintly surprised. If you weren’t so close to her, you wouldn’t have been able to tell there was a change in her expression. “I'm fine. thank you.”
“Oh.” Now things are a little awkward. “Is there something in the water you’re looking at? You might slip if you keep tipping forward.”
She peers below, unworried—silent.
“As long as you’re okay, I guess,” you sigh, awkwardly hovering above her shoulder when realizing it might come off strange if you touch her. “I’ll leave you be.”
Her lips twitch, something close to a smile. You don’t stick long enough to admire it, heading back to Aether and Paimon and shrugging at their inquisitive looks. “She says she’s fine.”
“I think it’s time for me to separate,” you say. “I want to take all of it in as much as possible. Paimon has my payment. Thank you both so much for keeping me safe.” Mostly Aether, though. But Paimon was there, emotionally.
“It’s no problem,” Aether says, his smile warmer than when you first met him. “Stay safe out there. You can look for us if you need anything else.”
“I don’t always pay 500,000 for each of my commissions.”
Paimon wilts. Aether flushes, stammering, “Not what I meant.” You laugh heartily as they wave when you walk off to the aquabus, hopefully, prepared for what Fontaine will give you.
Your sketchbook is a page away from completion when you hear about a magic show at the Opera House. Not that it was hard to miss—everyone and their grandmothers were prattling about nothing else but the entire day.
Fontaine is known for its love for dramatics, but the twins they keep mentioning must be a one-of-a-kind spectacle to have half their region’s population speak about them so reverently.
After wandering for hours, taking in the endless sights of fresh water streaming and grand castle-like modern buildings, you find yourself in the Fountain of Lucine. You’ve heard of Fontaine being somewhat titled the ‘City of Love,’ but seeing couples surrounding each nook and cranny of the tourist spots was still astonishing.
(You console yourself by thinking that there’s something romantic in sketching frantically while the rest of the crowd are sucking faces.)
To your luck, you spot three familiar heads in the fountain plaza.
Aether senses you before you can even say anything, glancing to the side and smiling when you wave at him.
Paimon flutters excitedly. “Y/N! We didn’t think we’d see you again this early. You look like you’re glowing.”
“Was it that obvious?” you laugh sheepishly. “Fontaine is beautiful; I couldn’t even stick too long in one place before I see something else that catches my attention.” You look to the girl you met earlier, who nods politely. “Hello. Are you three acquainted now?”
“Mhm!” Paimon says, hands on her hips. “This is Lynette! She’s inviting us to the show they’re holding here!” She gasps, “Speaking of—”
“Ah,” Lynette says quietly, “I couldn’t get an extra ticket. I’m sorry.”
Lynette is the magician you keep hearing about? With her seemingly reserved personality, you wouldn’t have guessed it. “Oh, no, it’s fine. I wouldn’t want to impose.”
“Paimon,” Aether speaks up. “They gave you your ticket, right? Why don’t you just float next to me or sit on my lap?”
Paimon’s eyes sparkle. “Great idea! That way, I can give my seat to Y/N, right?”
“You guys…” Your chest feels warm as Aether hands you one of the two tickets in his hand. “You really didn’t have to.” Is this what 500,00 gets you? The loyal companionship of Aether and Paimon?
“It’s a good idea,” Lynette says. “My brother wouldn’t want you to miss the show. He’d be devastated.”
“If you insist, then I suppose I can’t refuse.” Aether and Paimon do a cute little cheer. “But I need to return to the hotel; I can’t be watching a magic show carrying all these.” Surely Aether can understand.
Later, with your hands finally empty and charcoal-free, you rush back to the Opera Epiclese, the person standing guard kind enough to open the doors despite being a minute late.
“Welcome, one and all, to the Opera Epiclese!” The audience roars with cheers as the spotlight illuminates a figure on the center of the stage. You hurry to your seats, brushing past Aether and Paimon. “I am the star of today’s show, Lyney.”
Lyney bows, then stands upright with a Cheshire cat grin.
The thunder of the crowd’s applause is deafening. If you weren’t able to see it, you’d think that you hadn’t been clapping at all—senses numbed and your fixed stare all on the boy on the stage.
Your eyes catch on the small braid on the side of his head before the gleam of his eyes hypnotizes you.
He’s handsome, you think dizzily at the back of your head.
“Don’t blink,” he says, his voice lower as if meant to be a whisper, “or else you might miss it.”
The show proceeds. A dove soars away from inside as he flips his hat; you flush at hearing the soft laughter that slips from him after. The cards that materialize out of nowhere descend to the floor. His fingers shuffle the cards while talking to keep the audience satiated; they fly off his hands, yet he doesn’t lose focus, stretching them mid-air with a sleight of hand. They fall apart and come together neatly and precisely.
His stage presence is demanding. It would be as if Lady Furina herself would accuse you of committing a crime if you were to look away for even a second.
Then, when he scans the crowd, busy twirling his cards in his fingers, his gaze catches your awed ones.
Something in the air shifts. Or maybe it’s that it slows.
A card slips from his grasp. A mistake. He blinks and breaks eye contact, laughing heartily to play it off. But you don’t believe it—not when you swore your limbs locked in place as well when lilac drilled into your soul.
You breathe, hands bracing against your chest. What was that?
You would’ve played it off as something you imagined if not for Lyney continuing to glance at you occasionally. His slip-up had been forgotten, as though it was all part of the show.
(Is it also part of the show when it seems he’s unable to tear his eyes off of you?)
Of course, the twins prove their worth. They showed you exactly why the people of Fontaine adore watching them through theatrical magic, cards in their sleeves, and defying logic.
You’ve shuffled to the edge of your seat as Lynette disperses into bubbles and comes back alive. You’ve held your breath as Lyney emerges from the box across he was in a moment earlier.
You’ve also been witness to the murder of Cowell.
CRASH.
The shatter of glass resounded along with the horrified gasps of the audience. Sickeningly enough, you could almost hear the crack of bones if you hadn’t been crying out in alarm. Yet, as they gape and shriek over the sight of a limp arm popping out, you find your gaze tracing back to Lyney, who stands motionless in front of the box.
When Lady Furina points fingers and has everyone siding against him, the guards escort the audience from the Opera House. All evidence presented left Lyney in a spotlight unlike his performance: with a disgusted and unamused crowd. Even you have to agree that it isn’t looking well for his case at all.
Yet all you can think of as you leave the room is that Lyney looked as terrified as everyone else was—much too raw of an expression for someone to accuse him of anything at all. He looked young and scared.
(His hands were shaking.)
The rest of your Fontaine trip is admittedly duller when you’re a little more familiar with its city and don’t have a yapping little fairy and a capable Traveler by your side. It’s hard not to hear chatter about the events that went down: Lyney’s trial, Aether volunteering to be his lawyer, and the truth behind the real murderer.
It solved a case beyond the murder of Cowell. Fontaine sure has its mysteries, and the crowd sure loves them as they would a magic show.
You keep your hands busy. Last night, you found yourself thinking back to the magic show, to deft fingers weaving through cards, to violet eyes that kept on flickering to you. By the time you snap back to reality, you’ve subconsciously drawn shapes and lines that suspiciously look like the magician himself: the curve of a smile, piercing eyes, and you entranced by it all.
Flustered, you crumple his face staring back at you out of sight. Yet you can’t bring yourself to throw it away.
You shove the last bit of garlic baguette in your mouth to furiously bat these unwanted thoughts away.
“Isn’t that Y/N?” Paimon’s voice is unmistakable, a short distance off.
You jump out of your skin, spinning to see Aether and Paimon waving and walking over to you. You thought they'd already left Fontaine after that; you wouldn’t blame them if they did.
“Y/N! We haven’t seen you since the Opera House performance,” Paimon exclaims, twirling around your head like a thrilled fly circling a trash can.
You hold onto her back, hoping she’ll stop making you dizzy. “We were escorted out before I could say goodbye. I couldn’t watch the court trial but heard it all turned out fine.”
“That’s right!” Paimon nods proudly. “Paimon helped a ton during it; you should’ve seen it! What have you been doing?”
“I found a fellow architect while visiting the cafe nearby, and we chatted for hours,” you say, remembering that your voice is hoarse for that reason. You also don’t tell them you couldn’t get a certain magician off your mind. “I learned a lot. I don’t regret coming here one bit.”
Paimon says something else that you’re sure you’ve nodded absentmindedly at while your gaze wanders over to the two familiar people a few feet behind, watching you three with cat-like eyes—and it’s not just because of Lynette’s unique features.
“Those are the magicians, right?” you gesture behind Paimon and Aether as if you haven’t already familiarized yourself with their faces.
Paimon nods. “Uh-huh. You should introduce yourself! They look like they want to talk.”
Something about that feels foreboding. “Um, no, it’s fine. I don’t want to be rude and interrupt your conversation.”
“No,” Aether says firmly. He seldom speaks; you might as well play along if he says so. “Besides, Paimon is right. Lyney wants to talk to you, you know?”
“Oh, yeah! He kept mentioning seeing someone sitting beside us! And it couldn’t have been Neuvillette because he said it was an unfamiliar beauty that bewitched this weak magician’s heart.” Paimon nods, even recalling how he’s enunciated each syllable theatrically.
“I’m sorry?” you blurt. “Lyney recognizes me? What did I do?”
“Paimon thinks it’s because Lyney is curious about who Lynette met! He was like that with us, too.” Paimon changes her pitch to match Lyney’s. “Are these your friends, Lynette?”
Aether’s eyes feel like they know something you don’t. “It won’t hurt to strike up a conversation with Lyney. He’s been shaken up since the trial.”
There’s something unspoken hidden in his words. “What does that mean?”
Paimon doesn’t wait for an answer, grabbing you by the arm and dragging you to where the twins are waiting. Aether chuckles as he jogs behind.
“Paimon, Aether,” Lyney says, almost sly, “You haven’t introduced us to your friend here.”
“Paimon can do it!” She floats on top of your head and does a bit of jazz hands. “This is Y/N, the one who commissioned us to escort them from Sumeru up to Fontaine.”
“Generously,” Aether adds.
It’s a little embarrassing to have the legendary Traveler and Paimon introduce little old you to a famous magician such as himself, but his grin is still excited.
“From Sumeru?” Lyney repeats, smiling wider when you nod—as if that crumb of attention is enough for him. “I see.”
He performs a bow around the same height as where your hands rest; he takes one, kisses the back of your palm, and smiles against your skin. “I’m Lyney, and she is my sister, Lynette.”
“It’s nice to see you again.” You smile at Lynette, who nods in return. Lyney straightens to look at his sister.
“We met when the Traveler and Paimon just arrived at the harbor,” Lynette sighs even without looking at her brother.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” you say, meeting Lyney’s eyes. The spot where he kissed is still warm—tingling. “Your show was incredible, despite what happened. I’m glad that the truth revealed itself.”
“Thank you.” Lyney’s gaze sharpens. “I saw you at the performance, yes. I was worried for a second you might steal the show if you were to come up on stage.”
You blink. “Are you saying—”
Lyney grins, “I apologize that the night had to end that way; it must’ve been horrifying. Say, what if I give you a little show right now to make it up to you?” Did he make it up to each one of his audience, too?
This is not a man acting “shaken up,” as Aether put it.
“You really don’t have to.” You glance at Aether and Paimon, silently asking for help; however, they’re too far gone, urging you to say yes with gestures and encouraging nods.
Lyney tilts his head, demanding your attention on him once more.
You sigh. “I would love to see it if you don’t mind.”
“Of course!” Lyney looks like he’s the sun bursting personified. “It would be a pleasure, ma chérie. Not to worry, it’s nothing life-threatening. I just need you to focus on me.”
Not that it’s hard. The others have become a dull buzz in your mind as Lyney holds your gaze. “Okay.”
Lyney smiles, much softer, satisfied. “Good. Now,” he tips his hat, “recently, I’ve received a little lesson from someone about the language of flowers. Are you familiar with them?”
“Not in Fontaine, no,” you mumble, watching his hands closely. You were expecting a rabbit to hop out of that hat any second now.
“Shame. But I suppose I wouldn’t want to spoil the fun.” Lyney snaps his finger, then deposits his hand inside his hat. “Hmm… Oh? Something’s not quite right. Would you mind looking into this hat for me to see if the flower is here?”
You hesitate. The hat is so close to him.
Swallowing, you nod, leaning in to inspect his hat at a careful pace. All you can sense is the faint scent of heat Lyney is emanating, the breath you two share, and the pounding of your chest. You swear you could also hear his, matching yours.
“The hat’s empty.”
Lyney smiles wider. “Yes, perhaps because you already have it.”
You jump back in surprise, your hands patting your body to see where he could have snuck the flower in. With your frantic movement, the flower falls off from what seems to have come from your head—Lyney catches it.
His mouth carves into a smirk, leaning to invade your personal space, his free hand coming up to tuck hair behind your ear. “Careful.”
Your face is burning. Plucking the flower out, the delicate and tender pink sears into your palm. “What does this flower mean?”
“What does it, I wonder?” Lyney whispers thoughtfully. “I suppose you’ll have to tell me once you find out.”
And when he inclines backward, it feels like you can breathe again. Time flows normally, and the people passing by seem much louder than before—as though you’ve surfaced from underwater.
Lyney clears his throat. “Shame I haven’t prepared myself a grand show for you, but I suppose that would call for another time, wouldn’t it?”
Lynette is looking at Lyney as if he is stupidly amusing.
“Thank you,” you say, burning, burning. “For the show, I mean.”
“That was a little weird,” Paimon whispers to Aether, but she is terrible with keeping volume and has everyone turning to her with varying expressions. “P-Paimon means that was good! Wow, Lyney! Isn’t that a different flower you gave us? That’s the flower Charlotte was talking about, right?”
“Rainbow rose?” Aether supplies.
“Yes! It means—”
“Ahem.” Lyney is quick to interrupt. “Lynette and I must take our leave now, if you don’t mind. It was fun catching up with you two.” You have to hold your ground and not look away when he hones in on your figure. “And it’s a pleasure meeting you. Don’t be a stranger. Look for me if you want more.”
His smile is a little devilish, you now realize.
“Bye,” Lynette says blankly, following after her brother, who seemed to be hurrying to exit.
His ears were red.
“You’re still staring.”
“I am not,” you rebuke hotly, flailing to cover Aether’s mouth with your hands. Yet all it does is bring your attention back to where Paimon and Aether are staring—the rainbow rose on your person.
Paimon and Aether yelp when you drag them away despite Lyney having already left the scene.
“Hey—! Don’t just go dragging Paimon around like a balloon like that! Did Lyney get to your head that much?”
“He did not.”
Paimon tilts her head, frowning. You shy away from her worried gaze, glaring at the flower instead. You still don’t know how Lyney managed to get it there; you hold it to your chest, where your heart is racing miles per minute because of his stupidly smug smile.
“What does this flower mean, Paimon?”
Paimon seems elated to be of help. “Easy! Charlotte told us that Rainbow Roses mean ‘passion’ and most notably ‘romantic encounters’!”
“Passion,” you curse. The rose seems as if it is staring back innocently, unknowing of the turmoil you’re going through because of it. “Romantic encounters.’ ugh.”
You can still remember how Lyney’s eyes twinkled as you felt his breath against your face.
“Ooh, he thinks he can trick me. He thinks he can affect me just because it pleases him to do so. I’ll show him. I’ll show him! I am not a blushing maiden!”
“You’re already very affected by this,” Paimon says, yet it’s lost by your newfound determination. Two can play at this game.
You’ve definitely been staying in Fontaine longer than what you told Aether and Paimon, but you can’t leave yet. Not when you found yourself walking to a flower shop to purchase a vase, fiercely digging through soil, turning gentle when your fingers reach for the Rainbow Rose. Not when you see it in the corner of your eyes as you try to sleep, and you find yourself daydreaming about a charming violet-eyed virtuoso.
It’s for research, you excused lamely at the hotelkeeper who didn’t ask why you’re extending your stay. In truth, not that you’d tell anyone. It was because you were hoping for another grand show from him. A farewell show for you—closure.
If you were to travel back home and get too drunk to think straight, Kaveh would learn about your crisis (romantic awakening?) and laugh at your face.
In hopes of looking for your Fontaine architect friend, you spot Lyney instead, on the side of the street surrounded by cheering kids. They clap and jump, and Lyney laughs. “One more, one more!”
“Again?” Lyney does an exaggerated sigh. “I’m starting to run out of cards in my sleeves. I’ve guessed my entire deck from your hands by this point!”
“But, Mr. Magician,” one of them whines, pouting up at him and blinking, “we want to see more! We want to know how you do it!”
“Alright, how about this, hm?” And then Lyney peers right at you. Ironically, you’re the one startled when you’ve been watching that entire spiel, and he hasn’t acknowledged your presence beforehand. “Y/N, would you mind giving these children a little show with me?” He gestures for you to come closer.
“What show?” you ask suspiciously, taking slow steps in case he pulls out another flower out of nowhere.
“You don’t have to worry,” Lyney laughs. “Will you be my assistant for this show? You are very familiar with this trick.”
“Please, we want to see!”
You falter at the little kids’ excited grins, especially when paired with Lyney’s pout and round eyes. “Okay, tell me what to do.”
His eyes do the little gleam again. “Stand in front of me, mon lapin.”
Your heart is skipping beat after beat, making itself known as you shuffle until Lyney is directly behind you.
“Relax, chérie, you just need to stand still.” It’s a little hard to relax when you feel his breath against the back of your neck, but you won’t give him the satisfaction of admitting that, so you keep your chin high and relax your shoulders. “Good.” 
He begins to speak louder to his awaiting audience. “I know it’s hard to keep your eyes off this beauty before me, but watch the hat for a surprise, alright?”
He flips it for his little audience, one hand resting on your waist and the other extended to hold his top hat. The proximity is almost suffocating. You watch with bated breath, and they complain about it being empty.
“Oh, is it?” Lyney hums, twirling the hat until it’s flipped upside down, presented right before you. “Perhaps I need my assistant’s help.” You snap out of your daze when you realize he’s talking to you. “Y/N, do me a favor and show them the flower inside.”
You reach inside the hat and, much to your surprise, feel a stem. You pull it out; the Rainbow Rose stares back at you, almost mocking you, saying he did pull out a flower out of nowhere. It's this trick again.
The kids gasp in awe and confusion—it’s all the same for Lyney, who snaps his fingers and creates magic like he was made to. Like magic was for him to summon with his hands.
“What? It was empty!”
“Where did that come from? I was watching Mister Magician’s hands the whole time!”
“Are you a magician, too?”
“No,” you say lamely, holding the rose, feeling Lyney still patiently standing behind you. Heat crawls up your neck. “No, I’m not. It’s all Lyney.”
“It’s all me,” Lyney echoes in amusement. “You’re quite magical yourself.” Finally, he spares you, pulling away to stand beside your figure. He doesn’t take the rose back—maybe even give it to one of the children. He knows exactly what he’s doing. “That’s enough for today. The sun is setting, and your parents might get worried.”
They pout and slump their shoulders, but Lyney has this older brother's sternness to him that has the children scurrying back home anyway.
You then realize having to stand in front of Lyney was unnecessary.
The flower is warm. Lyney’s eyes slip to yours.
“I didn’t even have to stand in front of you like that,” you complain, heart inclined to race off your body.
“Yes, but I feared that I would slip up again if I were to catch a glimpse of your face,” Lyney admits smoothly. His lips curl into a smirk when you stare wordlessly. “What? Don’t believe me? I had to improvise when I saw you watching from afar.”
“A great magician such as yourself? Making a mistake? I doubt it.”
“You already have such high expectations placed on me, chérie,” Lyney says, his smile easy, but his ears are a little red, poking out from his hair. “That’s no good. With no audience, I’m just plain ‘Lyney’ to you.”
“No trickery? No cards up your sleeves?” you play along.
Lyney doesn’t miss a beat. “No, though I do have a few more roses begging to be held by your hands.”
“They can keep begging.” Lyney grins wider when you glance down at his hands. “Do you give them off to everyone you meet?”
“Who do you take me for?” Lyney isn’t offended; he laughs, delighted. He is preening under the sunset—or maybe it’s your attention. “Of course not. At least, not like this.”
You stare, unimpressed. “Sure.”
“So cold, chérie,” Lyney sighs, plucking the stem from your fingers to slot it behind your ear. It seems he likes doing that. “Here I am, trying to get you to warm up to me, and you treat me like this.”
“You don’t have to. I’ll be going back home soon anyway.”
Lyney’s expression shifts into something more unrecognizable, his eyes dipping down to somewhere below your nose. “Oh. Avoiding attachment?”
You nod.
He grins, and he’s still so close. He knows how to entrance his audience, pulling you in until you forget to resist. Always watch the hands; yet Lyney could be digging a dagger to your side at this moment, and you wouldn’t even notice.
“I’m flattered you even want to avoid me because you know you’d get attached,” he purrs, tilting his head. Is Lyney just big on personal space? 
“Don’t assume,” you retort. “I know how guys like you think. Even a magician as great as yourself can’t trick someone who’s already seen through it.”
“It would be easier if it were just a trick, wouldn’t it?” Lyney sighs, much to your confusion. “I take it that someone has told you what this flower means?”
You’ve nearly forgotten all about it. “Yes.” You find yourself unable to look directly into his eyes. “I know.”
But even with that, you can still feel his heavy gaze, pinning you down and threatening the strength of your knees. You suppose it comes with being a performer—watching his audience carefully, pinpointing each micro expression to say the right words.
“There doesn’t have to be any attachments.”
“What are you trying to say right now?”
Lyney’s reaches for your hip, sharing your gaze like he doesn’t know how to do anything else. “That you enamor me. That I am holding back from wanting you. I know you feel the same—you can never hide anything from a magician. But if you’re concerned,” he mumbles, “then this doesn’t have to mean anything. You may call it infatuation.”
You want to laugh. Or maybe you want to cry. Most of all, you want to nod helplessly, wrap your arms around his neck, and give in. It’s hard not to when he looks at you like that. “You want me that bad?”
“I almost want to disagree.”
“Almost?” Lyney gets closer, and you stop him with a palm on his chest. “We’re outside.”
Lyney grins. “Have you forgotten what Fontaine is also known for? No one would bat an eye. Love is in the air, and all that.”
“Absolutely not.”
“So still you’re letting me?”
You laugh this time. Letting him, as if you aren’t the one itching to pull him close and find out what he’s like behind the curtains. “Are you asking me as plain old ‘Lyney?’”
Lyney brightens, clearly pleased there wasn’t a ‘no’. “Yes.”
“No tricks?”
“No tricks. No strings.”
You let him lead you away into some dark alleyway. He kisses you like he was longing to do so all his life. You have only met him that fateful day, not even a week ago. But you claw at him like you get it—like he’s ruined you for anyone else the moment you shared gazes in the Opera House.
Romantic encounters, you quietly recall as Lyney swipes a thumb over your aching bottom lip.
You don’t see Lyney the day after that. And for some reason, it makes the itch worse. (Perhaps it’s because you’ve gotten a taste and can’t get enough.)
It’s mostly your fault, the sudden disappearance—you’ve cooped yourself up in the hotel room, buried your face in pillows, and screamed. You berate yourself for giving in, but another part of you—one that’s louder than any other thought in your head—wants to do it again. Wants to hold his handsome face in your hands and have him kiss you breathless. That was nothing like you had ever felt before.
You groan. It’s another new day. You might as well make some progress with your portfolio.
There’s a Café you’ve been visiting more often than not. Ordering a drink and spending a good chunk of your day sketching the view. Instead, you find yourself staring at Aether, Paimon, and Lynette seated at one of the tables.
Lynette’s eyes flick up to yours as she sips tea. She murmurs something to the other two, and you watch with amusement as Aether and Paimon’s heads snap to face you.
You let your gaze wander, eventually landing on Lyney, who is reciting his order with his charming-act-on smile, who is present because of course he is. You want to turn and run away, but that’d be letting Lyney win, and you’re nothing if not stubborn and prideful.
“Y/N!” Paimon greets once you’re within earshot, kicking her feet happily. “Good morning! What are you doing here?”
“Breakfast,” you reply, waving at them. Aether pulls a chair from the other table and gestures for you to sit. “Did I interrupt something?”
“Nope!” Paimon swipes a fork from the table and digs in on the Ile Flottante, leaving nothing for Aether. “Lynette and Lyney told us about another show they’re holding to make up for the previous one.”
“Mouth full,” Aether reminds her, a little too late as the Ile Flottante spews from her mouth.
“Really now? Maybe I can pay properly for a ticket this time,” you laugh, nodding at Lynette. She smiles faintly, hiding it behind the rim of her cup. Lynette sure is the polar opposite of her twin brother.
A shadow looms from behind, the silhouette of a figure with an unmistakable top hat. You tilt your chin and see Lyney peering down at you with a sweet smile. You will yourself to keep your gaze focused on his eyes only and nowhere else below the nose.
Speak of the devil…
“Sweetheart,” Lyney says instead of exchanging pleasantries like a normal person.
“Lyney,” you reply in kind. Then you look away upon realizing that Aether, Paimon, and Lynette had been silently watching the exchange with muted, stunned expressions.
Lyney, holding a tray of drinks and food in both hands, scoots the chair next to yours with his ankle. “I wasn’t informed that Y/N would be joining us,” he says, setting the drinks and plates down like a waiter with a flourish. “You can drink mine. Let me order another.”
You hold onto his wrist as he makes his way back. He turns to you, surprised. “Let me at least pay for my own breakfast.”
Lyney grins, delicately withdrawing from your grip. He places a loud kiss on your hand. “Don’t worry about it.” And then leaves, because he can’t take no for an answer.
“Is it just me,” Paimon starts as you resign yourself to finishing Lyney’s drink (It’s your favorite, the one you always order), “or is Lyney acting weird around Y/N?”
Aether laughs. “There's definitely something going on. Don’t end up staying too long in Fontaine, now. What was it you told us? ‘A day or two’.”
You huff, your face turning unbearably warm. “Shut up, you two. I am here to do research, not to find a summer fling.” You’ve already failed, but they don’t need to know about that.
If you were to touch your lips with your fingers, you’d think of no one else but Lyney’s hands on your hips and his mouth swallowing your words.
Lynette clears her throat, a quiet but noticeable thing. “Don’t be fooled by my brother, Y/N.”
“Oh, don’t worry. I’m still keeping my safe distance.”
She shakes her head. “That’s not what I mean. Don’t be fooled by my brother.” She stares at you from the rim of her cup—something about that has you listening obediently. “No matter what he tells you, he always cares too much. No matter what you may think, he always gets hurt first.”
“That’s not…” You can’t imagine that. From the start, it’s always felt like he was the one who could do what he wanted.
No tricks.
Lynette is his twin, after all. She knows him best.
No strings.
Defeated, you sip on the straw with the same fervor of an aggravated hilichurl, and that’s the end of that.
Conversations during breakfast are much lighter when Lyney returns with a full meal as his treat. Celebration, he says. Celebration for what? Who knows? Lyney winked, but his glance directed to you said enough.
“You say that you don’t want to get attached, but you’re awfully close to the Traveler, of all people,” Lyney says offhandedly once the others have left for their own matters.
You lean against your seat, grinning. “Are you jealous?”
He doesn’t say anything, instead upturning his nose as if scrambling to regain control. You laugh, oddly endeared. Lyney turns his head away, trying to hide the smile that curls his lips upon hearing it.
“Hey,” Lyney says seriously, reaching for your hand. “Where have you been yesterday?”
“Why? Missed me?”
And because he’s Lyney, he takes his time kissing each of your knuckles. It’s more intimate than the whole ‘no strings’ arrangement you agreed on, but you suppose Lyney thinks that any physical attention is free reign. “What would you do if I said yes?”
“You’ll be fine,” you say slyly. “You’ll have to get used to it if you want to risk your heart just to get laid.”
He rolls his eyes, tugging you closer. “I’m not risking anything to get laid. Do you think so lowly of yourself, chérie?”
“Isn’t this all there is to it? Physical attraction,” you ask, genuinely confused.
Lyney blinks. “Of course, but—” His eyes flicker down, and his words trail off.
When you speak, you feel your breath bounce back from his skin—a testament to your proximity. “Lyney,” you whisper. For what? Urging him to continue? Urging him to close this distance? You’re not sure, either.
You have so much to ask. What do you mean? Why can’t you finish your sentence? Why don’t you just kiss me already? But it’s hard to speak; Lyney’s name is all you can think of. 
You whisper his name again. His grip on your hands tightens and loosens, a frustrated frown creeping up his brows.
Your hand shoots out to reach for the back of his head and give in. He flinches for a second before relaxing completely.
His lips almost taste sweeter than his words. Almost as sweet as how he finds purchase on your waist and holds your chin during every kiss.
You pull away to breathe, missing how he leans closer to chase after you and pouting when he can’t. “Yeah. That—That didn’t have to mean anything. I just wanted to know what it felt like again.”
“Yeah.” Lyney licks his lips, his gaze unable to tear away from where yours are swollen. “Yeah, I know. You taste like my drink.”
Really, no one’s surprised you gravitate towards each other again, feeling like you’re soaring and melting into a puddle at the same time. Lyney doesn’t touch you where you both know would cross the line, but he grips near possessively to what he can, as if breathing you in and worshipping your skin.
You know after this, he’d go back on stage, fooling his audience with what’s invisible to the average eye, as if this never happened. You know this because this is your deal: satiate the feverish attraction you have with each other and leave once you’re satisfied. (But you also know that you’ll be thinking of his touch and his lips while you stare at the vase beside your bed.)
Lyney is a magician, first and foremost.
He hooks you in, and keeps all your attention to himself like he’d die without it. Then he disappears with a snap of a finger. He’s finished his trick, leaving you befuddled in your seat with more questions than answers.
As you drift off to sleep, all you can think of is that there are two roses now.
“Brother.”
Lyney looks up from where he’d been entertaining Rosseland, seeing Lynette with a stern face. “What? What happened?”
Her tail flicks. “You said you weren’t going to get attached.”
Lyney exhales softly, his eyes slipping shut. “I’m not.”
Lynette finds herself smiling softly. “I may just be your assistant, but you can’t lie to your own twin.”
He buries his face in his hands. With his sight gone, images of your face while whispering his name flash in his mind. His eyes fly open, mortified, his whole face red. “I don’t know how it happened. I didn’t think it’d be deeper than that.”
He was the magician in this, but it felt as if you were the one who tricked him instead.
It’s been two weeks since you first arrived in Fontaine. By this point, you’ve grown more familiar with its views than your own city. Having Aether, Paimon, Lynette, and even Freminet around doesn't make it any easier for you to feel at home.
And then there’s the Lyney Situation. You meet up most nights, more than that when he’s free from shows. He keeps seeking you out, and you keep letting him in. There was one night where Lyney spent the night instead of heading straight to the door—and those nights turned into two, then three, and then he finds any excuse to keep doing it.
It’s not like you could stop. He told you look for me if you want more, and you always want more, because how could you not? Lyney treats you like he’s never had to take care of anything more precious but still manages to render you breathless like you’ve never experienced thrill the way he gives it to you before.
But you still have to go back home. And Lyney still has his own life, has his secrets. He feels untouchable even when your arms are wrapped around his neck.
No strings attached can still work for summer flings, doesn’t it? And what are summer flings, if not just that?
Lyney hovers above with his hands caging your face. He’s grinning so wide—and you’ve seen all kinds of smiles on him with your time spent together, but it was never this genuine.
“You’re bad for me.” He says it like a confession, a prayer.
You raise an eyebrow. “What did I do to you?”
His hand trails down until he’s rubbing shapes on your hips. “Make me feel like I’m myself whenever I’m with you.”
At your silence, Lyney clears his throat. “But it’s not like that, don’t worry. I just mean—”
And how does that even make sense? He pours his heart, then later reveals it’s nothing but a decoy to keep this facade realistic.
“Oh,” you say.
That was the final act you’d been waiting for. The final trick—the farewell show.
And so you pack your bags—shoved your sketchbook back inside, face forward, and promise not to look back. Leaving Sumeru hasn’t even been this hard.
Aether and Paimon shouldn’t be surprised if they find you missing; they’d been the first to know that your stay in Fontaine isn’t meant to last forever. And you’ve warned Lyney about this. Avoiding attachments? It felt more like running away from your problem.
Lyney is a busy man on his own; you’re nothing but some architect from a different region who happened to get caught up with him at the right time.
You sigh and call for the aquabus.
A hand clasps around your wrist, pulling you to collide against a familiar chest. Lyney’s eyes are wide, almost insane. Sweat clings to his forehead, and his breath comes in frantic pants.
“W-What—”
Lyney’s eyes search your face. Or maybe it’s him trying to convince himself that you’re right there, in front of him. “You didn’t even tell me.”
“I—I’m sorry—”
“Were you just going to leave like that? Don’t you think I at least deserve a farewell?”
“Lyney, I’m sorry. I know, that was stupid.” You haven’t seen him with an expression like this before—so raw and broken, begging to be glued together with your hands. “I didn’t want to formally say goodbye because I knew I'd want to stay.”
“That’s stupid,” he repeats in agreement.
You breathe shakily, eyes scanning the stunned crowd. What’s The Great Magician Lyney doing here? Holding some stranger in his arms? That must be what they’re thinking.
“How did you even know I was leaving?”
Lyney’s eyes cut down to his hand, gripping a crushed rose. “I was paying a visit to an empty room.” Embarrassed, he tries to toss it away, but you take it before he can.
You wordlessly place it in its home: the spot behind your ears. You don’t tell him that the two other roses he gave you serve as bookmarks in the sketchbook you’ve used all up in Fontaine. Where you’ve drawn his face more often than not.
Lyney groans in frustration, his hands curling around your waist. “Is staying so bad?”
“It’s not like I’m leaving forever.”
And then you notice Lyney’s hands. They’re shaking uncontrollably, not unlike how it did during that incident—and with it came the frantic exhales, as if natural human breathing alone is already hard enough for him.
“Oh, Lyney,” you say softly. You drop your bags and embrace him fully.
He doesn’t hesitate in pulling you closer, burying his face on your neck. “Don’t—don’t,” he gasps, “don’t just try to leave like that.”
It’s hard seeing Lyney like this. He’s usually so composed and easy-going. He gulps in a deep breath, and his voice cracks as he calls for you. This must be something out of his control—something deeper than the back of his stage.
“Y/N,” he whispers.
“Lyney,” you call back as gently.
He swallows your surprised noise with his mouth, moving against you like you’re his last meal on Teyvat. He’s still shaking, but it has subsided the longer you stay pressed against each other. You’re not sure if it’s his Pyro vision or if it’s your skin burning at the thought of Lyney’s skin against yours. It’s searing.
This is different from the last kisses you shared.
Passion, you think dizzily, breathless from his hunger. This is passion.
“What was that for?” you ask, embarrassingly winded.
Lyney brushes his thumb over your bottom lip. He looks sad. As though he only comes alive when you’re with him. “A kiss to make up for your absence in the following weeks.”
“I can always come back,” you say. “No, I will come back. I promise. I just need to get home for a bit.”
“Okay.” Lyney nods, exhaling heavily. “Yeah. I know, I understand. Once you come back, come straight to me, alright?”
“Of course.” You lean in to kiss his cheek. You’ve never done it before because it always came off too intimate. And judging by the blush that explodes on his face, he thinks the same.
It all doesn’t matter. The line has been crossed days ago; you’ve just been turning away from seeing it.
He kisses you again. Then again. “Have a safe trip,” he says in between kisses. “I almost wish you commissioned me to escort you, regardless of the price.”
“What, you want 500,00?” The aquabus has arrived; Lyney grips you a little tighter, childishly willing himself not to see it.
“500,000 kisses, and more.” Lyney rests his forehead against yours, his captivating eyes keeping you still, the way it always does. “But you can give me that when you come back.”
( Before they were taken away from the stage for an investigation, Lynette comes up to her brother and asks, “What happened back there, Lyney? I thought you were about to twist your own fingers.”
He is unsure how to tell his sister that he saw your awed expression and nearly lost his wits.
“It was nothing,” Lyney admits, his face growing hot at recalling his slip-up. 
It wasn’t out of embarrassment, no—not when the memory of your wide-eyed beaming expression and how his mind blanked along with the skip of his heart plagued his mind.
“It was nothing,” he repeats numbly. It’s not. It was the start of something. )
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a/n ok just a quick rant this fic BROKE ME. it was like every other day i hated then loved writing this fic. im not used to writing fics this long so pacing is not my forte </3 but i just feel proud of myself for finishing this so HOPE U LIKED IT. if ure still reading until here ily ❤️
more a/n two lyney fics and two kissing scenes. i can’t even lie to myself. everyone can tell.
more more a/n it was halfway through writing this fic that i rewatched the magic show and only noticed lyneys hands were shaking and i GOT SO SAD OMF 😭😭😭😭
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thebeast-dennis-etcetera · 2 months ago
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Interference Part 2
Prompt: You run to your FBI neighbor when you and your boyfriend get into a fight.
Part 1
You shut your laptop with a frustrated sigh and crossed out the last address you had written down on your pad of paper. The last two days you had been searching for a place to rent, only to be turned down due to your bad credit or limited income. You didn’t have the privilege of asking your family for help, most of them had shunned you once you got into your relationship and the few that did still speak with you were in no position to lend you money.
Your phone rang again for the 3rd time in 30 minutes, a blocked number popping up on the screen. You had ignored it the last 2 times for the fear that it was your boyfriend, but he should still be in jail with no chance of making phone calls, right?
Deciding it wouldn’t really hurt to answer it, you slid the call open and instantly regretted it once the familiar devious voice spoke to you.
“Hello bird,” he greeted with fake sincerity, using the pet name he made for you as a jab at your eating habits. The fear shot through you just as hard as the other night, rendering you speechless.
“I’m out baby. I’ll be home soon and we can sit down and talk about everything. Hopefully you were able to get the house cleaned, it was a mess the last time I was there.”
He didn’t get a chance to say anything more before you ended the call. Anxiety and fear began creeping into your body, making you scramble to grab a luggage bag from the closet before shoving some clothes, toiletries, and your laptop in it. Running into the living room, you peeked out of the curtains, hoping to see Aaron’s car in the driveway. No such luck.
So grabbing your keys, you left the house, not even bothering to lock it and threw your luggage into the backseat of your car. You tore out of the driveway and down the street like a bat out hell, unsure exactly how far away your boyfriend was. As reckless as driving 50 in a residential was, you took your chances of being pulled over and put as much distance between you and that house before dialing Aaron’s number at a red light.
“Hotchner,” he answered professionally from the other line.
“Aaron. He got out. I don’t know how, maybe his mom paid his bail. He called me and said he was on his way to me.” Your words were fast and frantic. You would've continued rambling had Aaron not stopped you.
"Y/N. Just take a deep breath for me, alright?"
The light turned green and you did as he instructed, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, it doing very little to calm your frazzled nerves but appreciated it regardless.
"Now do you have anywhere you can go, maybe a friends house or family member? Somewhere you'd be safe?"
"No," you spoke. "I don't have any friends and most of my family disowned me when I got into this stupid relationship. The rest of them live on the West Coast."
There was a pause of silence as you felt him thinking over the phone. Most likely figuring out the easiest way to get rid of you and your problems.
"Alright. I have some down time before my meeting in an hour. Why don't you come by and we can figure out a plan. I'll send you the address, just take the elevator to the 4th floor."
A second later you felt the buzz of your phone from the incoming text message. "Ok. Thank you so much Aaron. And I'm so sorry for taking up your time." Tears threatened to fall but you held them back.
"Don't be sorry, Y/N. I want to help you. Don't worry, we'll get this all sorted out. Just text me when you arrive."
"I will," you replied before you both said goodbye and hung up. You put the address in your navigation and drove mindlessly through traffic, so many thoughts going through your head it made you want to scream.
The address wasn't too far from your own homes, arriving there in less than an hour and heading into the very drab looking building before taking the elevator, texting Aaron that you had arrived on the way up.
You had just made it to the front desk before seeing Aaron headed in your direction, giving the receptionist a small smile. "She's with me Lonnette, thank you."
You waited as Lonnette printed your visitor badge and handed it over with a friendly smile before following Aaron through the floor, passing by glass offices and cubicles. You were quiet, not really in the mood for small talk which you felt he sensed and didn't bother saying anything as he lead you up some stairs to an office that you presumed was his by the gold name plaque on his desk.
"Have a seat, please," he offered politely, closing the door and walking over to his side of the desk. "Would you like something to drink? Water? Coffee?"
You shook your head. "No thank you. I appreciate the offer though."
He unbuttoned his suit jacket and sat down, moving some files to the side. "So I'm genuinely surprised to hear that he's out of jail. You said you think his mother bailed him out?"
"Yeah. I don't think she knows anything about what happened but whenever he asks her for money, she just sends it to him. I think she feels guilty for never being in his life so giving him money when he needs it helps her feel better about it." You rung your hands together, anxious about the whole situation as well as being there, talking with a man that was pretty much a complete stranger, bugging him for help.
"And he called you afterwards, telling you that he was on his way? Did he seem upset?" His tone was curious as if trying to get every piece of puzzle to fit perfectly in order to build an accurate idea of who your boyfriend was. It made sense considering his profession.
"I don't know. He's really good at hiding his anger until he snaps. He was talking like nothing had happened and we were just going to go back to normal." Your head whipped towards the open window blinds where someone was just walking by, Aaron noticing your jumpy behavior immediately.
"You're safe here. No one knows anything about what happened except you and I," he reassured you, making you relax just a little. "I don't think he'll be out of jail for long though, at least until he sees the judge for arraignment. I will personally see to that."
His words brought you a bit of placidity and hope as you still wondered why he would go through such lengths to help you out.
"I do have a small flat not far from here that I use occasionally for late nights at the office when I don't want to drive all the way home. You can stay there for now, until you find a place of your own if you'd like. Completely up to you, I don't want you to feel pressured."
Your eyes looked up from the floor to meet his, surprised by his offer.
"I- uh. I couldn't impose on you like that-
"You wouldn't be. I barely use it anymore, I prefer to be at my home with my son whenever I can."
Son? He has a son. Of course he does. He probably also has a wife or at least a girlfriend since you didn't see a ring on his finger. The thought of him with a son didn't bother you, in fact it only gave you more of a reason to trust him.
"If you're sure you don't mind," you said, trying not to sound too excited, relieved that you wouldn't have to go back to your boyfriends house. "Please let me pay some sort of rent or something though. It's the least I can do."
He shook his head no, his expression soft and nonchalant. "Don't worry about it. You're gonna need the money for your new place. Just promise me that you won't contact him or go back to that house unless you have some sort of escort, preferably by law enforcement."
You could be my escort.
You nodded in agreement, ignoring your thoughts.
“Alright then. I can send you the address and give you the keys now. I'm not sure if the fridge is stocked but feel free to add or throw anything away. There is a washer and dryer there so you can wash the sheets and anything else you need." He pulled his keys from his desk drawer and removed a ring with a single key on it, holding it out for you.
You took it gratefully and stood with him as he buttoned his suit back up and checked his watch.
"Could I at least make you dinner or something?" you blurted, not sure where such confidence came from. "I mean, I just want to do something for you in return for your incredible generosity." You couldn't stop the blush from burning your cheeks, your words successfully embarrassing yourself.
A small smile played at the corner of his mouth, showing off just the slightest sight of dimples. "I'll be with my son tonight but maybe we could grab a coffee sometime tomorrow."
You smiled back, more than satisfied with his offer and followed him out of his office, feeling a few stares from people but avoided eye contact. Aaron walked you back to the receptionist and even had her add you as a contact so visiting would be an easier feat.
"Thank you again Aaron," you spoke, the anxiety you had been feeling for the last few hours, finally beginning to dissipate. He answered with a friendly nod and you entered the elevators. Once the doors closed and you were completely alone, you took in a deep breath. Maybe everything was going to be ok like he said.
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risuola · 3 months ago
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HANDCUFFS AND ALIBIS || GOJO SATORU
It's rare that you make mistakes. You know which houses to target and which ones to avoid but this time, you failed to read a note properly — that led you to a man that you, as a robber, would rather avoid. It's a story about a dance between crime and law.
contains: policeman!satoru x burglar!reader, crimes (burglary, corruption, slight blackmailing, thief, gun usage), smut (strangers, unprotected sex, oral very briefly licked), usage of pet names (kitten, good girl), wc. 5000 ⋯ reader discretion is advised
kinktober '24 masterlist || art in the header: @/lxzemathena on X
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Seventy-seven.
“Fuckin’ lucky sevens,” you grumble, breathing quickly as you look down at the ever-present city of Tokyo. The flickering neons and long stripes of light glitter against the dark streets and buildings, matching the starry skies above. There’s so much life below you — the cars rushing through nighttime traffic, people scurrying over the jaded pavements. You can smell the mellow scent of the street foods and when you close your eyes, you can almost see the older ladies calling invitingly to try whatever delicacies they are offering. The view is gorgeous, you have to tell, but it’s also incredibly high and scratching you in all the wrong places. But you move through the roof, the skyscraper below your feet seems to vibrate slightly with each step you take. “You better be damn lucky.”
Once more, you glance at the piece of paper you kept in your pocket — a handwritten note from your associate, the address along with the numbers of the apartment, your tonight’s target. It’s supposed to be empty and full of goods you can steal. It does seem a little strange that your middle-aged middle-class businessman lives at the very top of the building, in a zone that you are certain is reserved for vips, but there’s no time to question it. Maybe the not-overly-successful CEO is in fact more successful than you’re giving him credit for. Or maybe it’s the lucky sevens.
Moving with feline fluidity, you’re swift about the break-in. The window is open, invitingly so, and you slip off the edge, swallowing the swearwords that bubble at the top of your throat — right above your racing heart. You move like water, like a drop of liquid sliding through the surfaces until you reach your destination. Two more steps and one little jump and you’re in. Breathless for just a moment, you listen to the silence making sure that you’re alone, as you are supposed to be. The businessman that’s unluckily occupying the lucky sevens should not be home for three more hours at least so you’re fairly confident that you can wrap it up in that time and maybe even grab some chicken nuggets on your way home. That being said, it’s better to be safe than sorry so you listen, you focus on the darkness as the soft thud of your landing echo in your ears along with the furious beating of your heart. You hear nothing.
But nothing hears you. The thud of your feet meeting the wooden planks lining his floors makes his lips turn upwards. Oh, Satoru has seen you way before you even thought about placing your little foot on his windowsill. It wasn’t hard, or rather, he’s very perceptive. Maybe it’s because of the experience he’s gathered in life or maybe just his own eyes are predisposed to catch little details that otherwise would have slipped away.
Once you’re inside his apartment, ruthlessly shifting the balance of his sanctuary, he allows you a moment to look around. He lets you wander and pick on his things just to look at you, to take you in. You’re clueless, it’s sweet. Gojo doesn’t rush it, the night is still young. He lets you find out yourself, he lets you experience the dread when you’re ready. He would hate to spoil the surprise.
There’s much less valuables than you anticipated and it makes you wonder why would your associate even recommend this house to you? But it does look good. With cat-like quiet, you move around the living area, taking in the sight of the opulent surroundings. Even in darkness you can make up that the furniture is high-end, crafted from real wood and glass. Looks like ebony, dark and rich, but you’re not sure. There is a feeling of luxury, a scent of it coming off the leather couch and armchairs, artistically mingling with the hint of perfume that marks the place with male presence. A nice perfume, with hints of vanilla and tobacco. Maybe you’ll snatch the bottle once you make it to the bathroom. Just for yourself.
You find some money in one of the pockets of the jeans discarded messily over the backrest of the sofa. The belt doesn’t seem expensive so you leave it before moving towards the bedroom. That’s where the main event is and as you go through the drawers, you grab a watch, already eyeing the laptop resting on the nightstand. Quickly, you move the socks around and then your hand finds something hard.
Oh, it is surprising to pull out a god damn handgun.
“I see you’ve found it,” a voice pulls at the strings of your attention and your eyes snap to the side. The light flicking to life blinds you for a split second before you see the man leaning against the doorframe. He’s tall, white hair and eyes that seem to be blue. How could you not hear him earlier? You must have been too busy rummaging through his belongings, too confident that there’s no one home that you lowered your guard. Rookie mistake. “Now be a good girl and put it down.”
You’re not a good girl and you raise it up, pointing the barrel at his direction — it’s an instinct, you wouldn’t shoot him, probably. You’re a robber, not a killer. He chuckles, as if he knows it as well as you do, or more.
“You’re not—”
“Oh, I certainly am not,” he cuts you in, his face morphing into a smile that you could only describe as wicked. He’s amused, you can tell, exhilarated even. He wants and will toy with you if you allow him and you’ve already decided that you won’t. “I wanted to let you know earlier but you were too sweet to interrupt. A little kitten digging through my underwear, searching for treasures that are nowhere to be found. It’s disappointing, isn’t it?”
“Shut up,” you snap, feeling the annoyance boiling inside your chest. Maybe you will shoot him.
“Now, now… don’t hiss at me,” he shakes his head, his white hair bouncing with every move of his neck. “I must admit, the wash of dread on your face was a sight I would hate to miss and you surely delivered. Now give me the gun–“
“I will shoot you,” you threat, taking a step back once he takes one forward. “Stay where you are.”
“Oh, kitten, do you think I keep a loaded gun right next to my boxers? That seems like a bad luck,” he laughs, his broad shoulders moving up and down as he shrugs nonchalantly. “See it for yourself. There’s a button on the side, can you feel it?” He’s instructing you and despite yourself, your eyes lower from him and onto the weapon in your hands. “Right there, good girl. That’s a magazine release button. Press it and the magazine will slide down from the gun’s grip.”
You truly don’t know why you follow the instruction. Maybe it’s because you have no real idea how to use a weapon or maybe it’s because his voice is so beautifully honeyed as he praises you. Maybe it’s because of how distracting he is, standing right there in nothing but a pale blue t-shirt and a pair of black boxers. And he is excited, in more ways than you’d expect.
You put some pressure on the button and just as he said, the magazine pops from the bottom of the handle. You pinch the protruding baseplate with your fingers and pull it out in a steady motion but you have not even a second to examine it when the man closes the distance between you two. His long legs covering the missing meters effortlessly and his body moving as if it was something he does on a daily basis. He grabs the barrel, aiming it up and grips your wrist, wrenching the gun out of your grasp. Throwing the weapon away, he twists your arm behind your back, slamming you onto the nearest wall. Your chest meets the cold paint and you whimper in surprise and discomfort.
“Got you,” he murmurs, his breath teasing your earlobe and you feel his strong, big body pressing against yours, much smaller one. The hard plates of his musculature crowd you in the forced embrace, his heat a harsh contrast against the cool wall. “Such a naughty little kitten, aren’t you unlucky to break into a cop’s house?”
A cop. It makes a lot of sense.
“Seems like the sevens on your door have nothing to do with luck,” you sneer, struggling in his grasp, shifting and pulling your body inch by inch towards the freedom. And he lets you, he lets you have hope as he keeps the control over every squeeze of your muscles.
“Sad to disappoint,” he hums, teeth grabbing the delicate flesh of your earlobe teasingly before his cheek presses against your temple. There’s something threateningly intimate about the way he keeps you close, his breath so delicate while his grip holds you harshly. “It truly would be a waste to put you in jail, don’t you think?” You can’t see him, but you can hear that damn smirk. “You wouldn’t like it. Pretty girls like you were not made for the bars and enclosure.”
“Oh yeah? And you’re so sure of yourself that you will catch me?” You ask, despite all and he’s laughing again. His free hand slides around your waist, splaying possessively across your stomach as he pulls you harder against him. You feel his crotch pressing against your butt, the bulge hard and prominent against the plush of your rear and the leggings you have on do little to mellow it down.
“Let’s be real now, will ya?” He muses, slowly enveloping you more and more within his arms. You feel them snaking around you, smothering, suffocating. “I could think of far better uses for such a delectable little kitten. Perhaps we could come to a more… mutually beneficial arrangement. What do you say?”
And you laugh at the realization. “Not very lawful of you now, is it?”
“Not very lawful of you to break into my house too but here we are,” he nips at your ear, sharp teeth grazing the sensitive skin and sending shivers down your spine. You feel his lips moving lower, following the side of your neck, marking the juncture of it with little wet kisses. “Damn, you smell so good,” he purrs, nuzzling his nose into your skin and inhaling deeply.
And he smells good too. Once so close, the lingering scent of his perfume fills in your nostrils much more. It’s musky, a hint of wood and a spice lingering below the sweetness of vanilla. There’s something impossible to guess too — something that seems to be just him.
“What’s stopping me from screaming?” You challenge, fighting yourself to not purr at his touches. “I’m sure your neighbors would love to hear about their friendly neighborhood cop assaulting a helpless woman.”
“Go ahead,” he chuckles. “Go ahead and scream, kitten. No one will hear you. Besides,” he lowers his tone, mouth hovering right next to your ear. “I don’t think you really want to be rescued, do you?” You don’t. “I bet you’re wet already.”
It’s you who laughs this time. What a sassy bastard. It doesn’t take you long to catch him off guard, twisting out of his grasp and elbowing him straight in the ribs. You’re not gonna go down without a fight, though… you wouldn’t mind getting a taste of that man, sinking your teeth into his muscled flesh, leaving a mark on him.
He groans and you push him back, making him stumble just a bit and it’s enough for you to flee through the doors, right towards the exit but he’s right behind you before you touch the locks. “Good luck with that, sweetie,” he mocks and you hear the metal clinking behind your back. You turn, expecting to see the keys dangling off his finger but instead, there are handcuffs there. “I wouldn’t want to cuff your pretty little and oh so fragile wrists, but you might not leave me with a choice.” He’s toying with you yet again and yet again, you scoff.
He’s annoying. Everything about him — the tone of his voice, so smooth and buttery; the sly smirk on his stupidly handsome face, those eyes that now you see are in the shade of the sky in the middle of summer, or the ocean, twinkling below the sun; the way his hair sticks out and falls down here and there in an artistic kind of mess. And his body, oh, how infuriatingly sexy he is. It makes you want to both choke him and choke on him and sooner or later you might act on either one of those urges.
Satoru knows you want him just as he wants you. It’s easy to tell in the way you look him up and down; he can almost feel your eyes exploring his frame, studying the lines and edges of his physique. It tickles his ego, feeding into his grin and he knows he needs to have you by the end of the night — and after that, the world can turn upside down. You’re too good to let go, too beautiful to let you slip between his fingers. The way your lashes flutter when you blink and how your brows furrow each time you try to act bothered by his words makes the fire burn hot and bright in his lower belly. The things he would do to you—
“You’re playing a dangerous game,” you warn, eyes fixed on him as you take a step towards him. “It’s a fire you’re toying with and you know what fire does? It burns.”
“Dangerous games are the most fun,” he grins, fingers finding the edge of your jaw as soon as you’re close enough. His touch trails along the line, hand splaying a little wider once he slips below your chin and you feel it wrap around your throat. He squeezes just enough to let you know it’s him who’s in charge. You allow him to think that it’s him.
You’re exhaling a little weaker, inhaling greedier as he holds you in his hands. You do nothing to stop him, you play into his game, dance to his melody just as he dances to yours. Your eyes meet and he’s smiling, stepping closer, you feel his heat going right through the thin layers of clothing between you. “So what will it be?” He’s purring, voice low as he leans down, running his nose down the bridge of yours.
Tilting your head, you grab his mouth, your teeth grazing over his lower lip as you nip and kiss him. He tastes like mint, you want more of him. Your hands find his hair, tugging on it, gripping it as you pull him closer. He pushes you back, your butt meets the edge of the dresser and soon you’re sitting on it. His growing bulge presses right into your core, grinding against the thin fabric of your leggings and you can’t help but whimper into his mouth.
His hands are all over you and yours are all over him, tugging and pulling the fabrics away, shedding the threads and baring his skin to your hungry paws. He’s a stature, light skin stretched over the wall of muscle that you’re all too eager to explore. He’s gorgeous, you let your lips lower, tracing down his jaw and neck, towards his shoulder. Little nips and sucks made him chuckle — purr — as he wastes no time removing your clothes.
“Aren’t you fucking gorgeous?” He breaths out, taking a step back and admiring you with an unabashed grin. “And dripping already.”
“And who says it?” You tease him back, hopping off the dresser. Your bare body is a sight, the curves and edges of you he wishes to engrave into his mind forever. You can tell he’s hungry — for you — and it stirs a thing in you, you want to devour him. You skip the distance, your hand gripping him through the boxers, palming the thick, throbbing erection and your thumb finds the tip, rubbing circles over the wet, sticky patch on his underwear. “I’m not the only one dripping, am I?”
“Certainly not.” He grins, large hands kneading the supple flesh of your bottom.
“Let’s get the guns out,” you muse, pushing him back, step after step until his knees met the edge of the bed.
“This gun is loaded, little kitten. Can you handle it?” He’s nonchalant as he falls back, bouncing off the mattress with a low chuckle. You let him smirk, pulling the black fabric off his legs and it makes you salivate — he’s thick, throbbing with need. Pearly white globs of precum glisten at the pink tip, stretch between it and his skin each time the hefty shaft meets the bottom of his stomach, too heavy to stand properly on its own.
“I can handle a corrupted cop,” you mock, crawling on top of him, running your flattened tongue up his length and swirling it around the tip.
And he’s laughing, taunting, “oh, says the little thief,” sneering. But his breath hitches, his eyes glued to the way your mouth stretch around his tip. It feels warm, wet, like silk and honey. You have no intent of rushing, you want to tease him, to make it painfully slow, to make him beg. “Be a good girl.”
“Am I not?” You stop, grinning wickedly and he groans, twitching right against your cheek.
He won’t beg.
You can’t have another lick before he’s right on top of you. Your chest vibrates when you laugh at his desperate movements, a mocking reminder of your victory but he ignores it. Set on the target, Satoru moves your thighs apart, groaning “shut up,” before he rubs the tip of his cock against your clit.
The contact is electric, sending tendrils of pleasure through your entire body. His movements are deliberate, it’s intense, it makes your thighs tremble on the sides of his hips. You look at him and his eyes are set on the spot you’re connected — the way his precum coats your throbbing bud, how it mixes with the thick, sticky fluids that slick your pussy, how your body twitches from pleasurable little shots of ecstasy.
You won’t beg either.
But he’s never been patient, he wants to be inside you. He needs to feel you around him, to be squeezed by you, to be buried to the hilt and lost completely, utterly in you. So he moves, his tip sliding down your slit, prodding your entrance as if giving you a ghost of a chance to run away, before he’s deep in you. One thrust is all it takes; he groans and you moan. Your back arches off the mattress, hands find their way onto his shoulders, scratching and squeezing, pushing and pulling.
The air hot from each breath, thick with tension and heavy with anticipation. He fills you completely, your walls stretching to accommodate his girth and a gasp escapes your lips. You feel all of him, it’s too much and not nearly enough. It overwhelms you, consumes you; the sensation, a mixture of pain and pleasure, sending shivers down your spine and makes everything blurry. His pace is relentless, punishing almost, each thrust harder than the last. His hips snap against yours with desperation and desire. It’s lustful, it’s raw.
Your bodies move together in a primal dance, the room echoing the symphony of raw, unfiltered passion — a cacophony of heavy breaths, soft moans, the wet smack of skin on skin and the rhythmic creaking of the bed beneath you. You grip his shoulders, run your fingernails across his pale skin, mark him with pleasure that fills every cell of your being. It burns you from the inside out, it turns your mind into a flurry of no thoughts. Your walls clench around him — it’s a silent plea for more, for harder, for faster.
His hand finds its way into your hair, gripping it tightly, tilting your head back as he pounds into you. He can feel the pressure building, a fire igniting within his core and he wants more. His teeth graze the exposed column of your neck, like a predator, he runs his nose along your silky skin inhaling your scent, memorizing it. He nips and kisses the delicate juncture, leaving wet marks and wet trails.
Your legs wrap around his waist, heels digging into his firm ass, urging him onward, urging him closer. Satoru listens, his pace quickens as each powerful thrust drives deeper into your overly sensitive body, stoking the fire between you both. You feel the tension building, a delicious pressure coiling in your lower belly, threatening to unravel at any point and you don’t hold it. He grips your hip, bruising your flesh with his fingers as he holds you in place. You scratch his back and he’s leaving marks, you bite his shoulder and he sucks your skin. You lose your mind and he loses it too.
In this moment, there is no corrupt cop and a petty thief – you are just two souls entwined in the throes of ecstasy, drowning within the sea of pure, deafening bliss. The world outside ceases to exist, walls of reality blurring as you surrender to the overwhelming sparks coursing through your veins — an eager, desperate chase of euphoria. With each thrust, he claims you, branding your very essence with his presence and yet, in the surrender, there is a sense of empowerment. You hold the key to his undoing, just as he holds yours.
Your heart is pounding in sync with the unforgiving rhythm of Satoru’s hips against yours. You see the strain on his face, the muscles in his neck standing out as he’s fighting to maintain control, to prolong this exquisite torture, but he can��t. Sweat beads on his brow, trickling down his temple and mirroring the sheen that glistens upon your own skin. The salty tang of perspiration blends with the heady aroma of arousal, creating an intoxicating perfume that fills the room. Soon, his restraint snaps, he’s growling lowly as he drives into you with frenzy — new ferocity of his movements sends you careening over the edge. You cry out, arching yourself as the waves of crashing pleasure wash over you. It’s a freight car that hits you, sending you spiraling into the abyss, it’s a tsunami that sweeps you off your feet and into oblivion.
“Look at me,” he commands, stilling himself inside you — despite himself, despite the overwhelming need and the surges of electricity that seem to be the only thing to keep him alive right now. “I want to see you when you come undone,” his voice is barely more than a raspy whisper and you look at him. Hazy eyes find his own, blurry lines of his face are all you’re able to make out in the dimly lit room but he’s there, you see him, you feel him.
He moves again, the crescendo builds as both of you dance at the edge of the release. Sweat slicks your skin, mingling as you press tightly against one another. It’s a torment, an expertly administered torture that targets your very soul and you love it, you grow addicted, you want more of it, more of him. And then, as if the universe itself cannot resist the pull of desire as powerful and heavy, the dam breaks. Your inner walls clamp down around him, orgasm ripping through you with power you have never experienced before — one that leaves you breathless, that makes you see nothing but stars in the dark blue eyes of the man above you. Release rips through you, it comes and drowns you as he angles his hips to hit that one sweet spot over and over, making you cry real tears and gasping for air. Soft moans and pleas escape your lips in a litany of need, a beg for mercy and for more at the same time. And he’s right after you; feeling your climax, he lets himself come undone too. He finds his release within the tight embrace of your body. Enveloped by the pulsating walls, milking him until he too succumbs into the overwhelming sensation, shuddering and following you headfirst and into the bliss. You can feel the muscles in his body tensing as he empties himself in you, fills you until you can’t take any more and spills, running down your velvety skin and onto the bedsheets below.
For a moment, time stands still. The two of you remain locked in an intimate embrace, hearts pounding in tandem as the echoes of your shared climax reverberate through the silence. Your breaths blend together and hearts mimic each other’s beating. As the aftershocks subside and the haze of passion begins to clear, you find yourself in a tangle of limbs, the evidence of what happened cooling on your skin. There’s a sweetness in the aftermath. A gentle vulnerability that neither of you are accustomed to showing but none of you fights against. It’s a moment of peace. Rare. Real.
Satoru rolls onto his back, taking you with him so that you’re draped across his chest. His heartbeat thrums steadily under your ear, a comforting rhythm that lulls you into a state of peaceful repose and for now, you choose to simply exist in this moment, allowing the events of the night to wash over you. The moonlight filters through the window, casting a silver glow over the scene. You feel his breathing evening out, his grip on you loosening bit by bit.
His sleeping form seems peaceful. He’s beautiful, truly and you almost feel bad before disentangling yourself from his embrace, careful not to wake him. Silently, you retrieve the handcuffs from the pile of discarded clothes on the floor and dress yourself in what you came in. There is a brief flicker of remorse as you secure his wrist to the bedpost, but it’s quickly extinguished by the thrill of the impending escape. Of winning. You lean down, pressing a soft kiss to his lips — a strange mixture of gratitude and goodbye, a stolen intimacy that you couldn’t get enough that night and you know, deep inside, that you will miss the feeling of him.
It’s bittersweet.
His wallet, watch and badge lie on the bedside table, ripe and ready for the taking. With deft fingers, you lift them, ensuring to keep the silence, not to disturb the peacefulness of the room. You pick up the gun — the one he has ripped out of your hands before everything escalated — the weight of it is unfamiliar in your grasp and you hesitate. For a moment you consider leaving it behind, but your nature wins out and you tuck it into the waistband of your leggings.
Clad in the moonlight, you take one last look around the room, memorizing the details — the rumpled sheets, the faint smell of sex still hanging in the air, and the man who — for a fleeting moment — made you consider a different life.
But that life isn’t for you.
With a final glance at the sleeping cop, you slip out of the room, closing the door softly behind you before you’re on your way out. As the steps echo through the staircase leading you down the building, you can’t help but smile. You want to laugh, it’s impossible. You can’t shake the feeling of Satoru’s touch, the memory of his body intertwined with yours. He’s a dangerous distraction, one that could get you caught if you’re not careful enough.
Once you step outside, the cool night air greets you, a stark contrast to the warmth you’ve left behind. The streets of Tokyo are never quiet and quickly, you allow yourself to be swept by the chaos, by the neon lights, by the people chatting around the edges of the street food booths. And you run, forward, somewhere. You run and you laugh. It’s high, you’re lightheaded. New day will come by and you’ll never see him again.
It’s okay.
It was worth it.
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The first rays of dawn seep into the room, casting a golden hue over the tousled bedsheets, warming up the bare skin. Satoru stirs, blinking sleep away from his eyes as consciousness returns. He stretches, expecting to feel the warmth of a body that had been nestled beside him only hours before, but instead, his hand meets the cold sheets and even colder metal. His eyes snap open and he turns his head to see his wrist bound to the wooden bedpost by a pair of his own handcuffs. The very same ones he had shown you at night, the ones he wanted to put on your forearms. He tugs at it, listening to the metallic clink that echoes in the otherwise silent room, as the events of the previous night come flooding back.
You’re gone, and Satoru laughs. A cursory search of the bedside table confirms his suspicion — you’ve taken the wallet, the watch and even his badge. A souvenir, he thinks. Alone in his bed, he relaxes. He lost. A little thief had bested him, the woman who had writhed beneath him, had turned the tables in a way he hadn’t anticipated. He lowered his guard, allowed himself to fall into slumber.
You’ve played his game and won.
You had enough curtesy to leave the key, knowing that once he’s awake again, you’ll be long gone. You left the key knowing, that he will not pursue you, that he will not call the authorities. Oh, you little minx. As Satoru uncuffs himself, he cannot stop chuckling. There’s so much lies he will need to tell to get out of losing his badge and the gun without admitting to what truly has happened.
But it’s okay.
You are worth it.
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maxlarens · 6 months ago
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i promise i'm writing my max oneshot CURRENTLY but i had to get the sillies out about this really badly. australian spring/summer i love u i love u i love u!!!! also at this point i think the difference between a one shot and drabble on this account is non existent and simply based on vibes. this is only a one shot bcs it feels a bit more coherent i suppose?
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LN: australia street
pairing(s): lando norris x piastri!reader, oscar piastri & piastri!reader
word count: 1.3k+
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It all feels very familiar, nostalgic even— though you've never been in quite this situation before. With Oscar sure; you always rope your brother into doing things when you're in Australia again. But this is the first time that Lando's joined you.
It's nice, to be home.
Not that it's yours or Oscar's home anymore (that's not true. It always will be, no matter where in the world you jet off to). It's certainly not Lando's. It's hard to put words to the feeling, you just know it's nice.
You're driving, of course, because Oscar and Lando can never decide which of the two of them should drive. So you'd snatched the keys to the Piastri family '96 Holden Commodore and slammed the driver door behind you before either of them could say boo. Lando had snagged the passenger seat in a mad dash that you'd watched play out in the rear-view mirror, while Oscar had complained all the way to the backseat.
"Whered'ya wanna go?", you half turn your head to ask Oscar, checking your blind spot at the same time.
Oscar hums as he thinks. You can feel Lando's eyes burning a hole into the side of your face.
"Do you remember that fish and chips shop—"
You do, "Where Dad used to take us? Yeah, it closed down," then you add, "Besides, Lando hates fish. Jeez, Osc."
"Ah fuck," Oscar groans, "That sucks."
Lando makes a noise, indignant, "I can't believe you forgot. It's my one thing."
Oscar rolls his eyes, "It's not your one thing, Lando. You have plenty of things."
They start to bicker, devolving into an argument that you only understand about half of, about pet peeves and the things the other one does that get on the other’s nerves. You chime in a few times to agree about Oscar’s annoying habits, the things you'd grown up complaining to your Mum about. Quietly to yourself, you decide on a route to an old Italian place you know is still kicking around— they won't mind.
You roll your window down, feel the balmy spring breeze in your hair, on your face. It smells like the bloom of jasmine flowers, of warmth, of the smoke of people BBQ-ing in their backyards. You breathe deeply, absently aware of the petered-out conversation. Oscar dozing in the backseat like he always does. Lando looking out the other window, watching gum trees and bottlebrush on the sides of the road. 'M looking for koala’s he'd said the other day, which had made you laugh. You'd been tempted to tell him about drop bears, but you're sure that Daniel had already warned him of the dangers.
"Do you miss it here?", Lando asks suddenly.
"Mm," you affirm, "I do."
"A lot?"
You shrug at the question, not sure why he's pressing it, "Sure, Lan."
"Then why do you travel with Oscar?", you spare a glance at him, he's fiddling with a bracelet on his wrist, the one you'd made him that matched the one you'd made Oscar that matched the one you wore, "Don't you want to, y'know, settle down here?"
You raise an eyebrow, scoff a little, "God, I'm not an old maid, dude. I'm not ready to pop out babies yet. Far out."
"No, no," he's blushing, you know he is, you don't even need to check, his tan cheeks growing a little darker, redder, "Fuck. That's not what I meant. You know what I meant."
You snicker. You do. But Lando is fun to rile up.
A latent sigh leaves your mouth, "I dunno," you admit, "It's my favourite place. But I have the rest of my life to come back, and besides, it's more special like this. I appreciate it more when I'm only here for a short time."
Lando hums, turning your words over in his head. You think he may be about to say something else—
"Do you like it here, Lan?"
You're not sure why you ask. No, you are. There's this fantasy that keeps floating around in your head. Little bits of it have been coming true on this trip. Lando standing in the garage with your Dad, talking about project cars and then showing him grease covered parts, explaining where they'll eventually end up. Your Mum roping you, Lando and Oscar into helping her cut vegetables at the kitchen counter. Your younger sisters giving you loaded looks behind Lando's back, you trying to pretend you have no idea what they mean by them. It's a pipedream, it's weird and you need to stop doing it.
But you can't. Sometimes, you look at Lando and your thoughts just pick up and run away with themselves.
Lando nods in answer to your question, "'Course. It's very," he trails off, fingers finding the beads on his bracelet again, he hums, "It's very you. Hm, does that make sense?"
You feel warm all of a sudden. Something creeps up your neck, settles at the base of your skull. You blink a few times, remind yourself to focus on the road.
You skitter out a laugh, an awkward thing, you're trying not to look at him, your hands tight on the wheel, "Yeah— uh— it does. I s'pose."
You lapse into silence for a short while. The sky is eggshell orange and purple and red, stretching out in front of you. Punctuated by the star-brightness of the street lights, terracotta tiled roofs and the shadowed branches of towering Eucalyptus trees. It fills you with a feeling you can't name— there's nothing else quite like it out there. Not in London, not in Monaco, not in any of the many other cities you've traveled to or lived in for a stint.
They're all gorgeous and interesting in their own right, but they don't live up to the special peculiarities of suburban Australia. The flash of a possum's eyes where it's skittering across a powerline. The faint sounds of kookaburras laughing as dusk falls. The glow of families watching TV in living rooms coming through screen doors left unlocked. Old men tinkering in wide open garages. Wheelie bins with red and yellow lids out on the curb— cricket stumps painted on the sides.
It’s special. In the way that home is always special.
Then Lando says, apropos of nothing, “Pretty.”
“Huh.”
He shrugs, gestures around at the neighbourhood, “It’s pretty. Warm too. I can see why your parents live here. Raised you guys here. I can see myself doing that.”
You decide not to tell him about the bipolarity of Melbourne weather. Cold to hot to wet to dry to gusty all in a few hours. You let him enjoy the rare consistent spring day. And you try not think about what he’s saying, what he’s admitting. You try not to think about what you might be admitting, driving him through streets you used to play in, to places you used to go with your family, talking about settling down, like it’s on the horizon anytime soon.
It’s not— you’ve not met anyone to settle down with.
At least you don’t think you have.
It’s certainly not Lando, in the passenger seat of the old family car, fresh off a day of meeting your grandparents for fuckssake and taking a tour of your childhood bedroom. Laughing at your old boyband posters and the teenage girl shrine you’d kept to Niki Lauda. It can’t be Lando, who you turn to when you can’t turn to your brother, who gives you his hoodies when you’re cold even though he’s colder, who’s come on a bloody trip to Australia in his four week break because you’d said you wouldn’t know what to do without him for that long.
It can’t. It’s not.
He’s talking in hypotheticals and you’re getting carried away with yourself again. Like you always do.
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listened to this playlist while writing😌
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channieskies · 2 months ago
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Pairing: Lee Know Reader (Fem) Bang Chan
Summary: Your joke turns into you and your boyfriends gift to his good friend for his birthday.
WC: 3920 {Reading Time: 16 Min}
♱‧₊˚. Kinktober: Day 25, [Bondage, Choking, Oral Fixation, Threesome/Multiple Partners]
Genre: Smut, PWP
Nets: @neverendingdreams-net & @mirohs-aurora-society
Warning(s): Dom/Sub Dynamics, Threesome, Vagial penetration, Oral, Anal Play and penetration, gagging, BDSM, Unprotected sex (This is a work of fiction, please protect yourself in real life), Vaginal and anal creampie, Cum swallowing, Pet names (Baby, Dirty Little Slut, Dirty Girl), Please let me know if I missed any!
Authors Note: Happy Birthday to our lovely Cat Daddy, Lee Know. I originally started writing this (last year) for a joint birthday project, but never released it. Even though it's the last hours of his birthday, I still wanted to post this. It's also Kinktober, so why not join the festivities with a very filth filled fic? This has not been beta read or thoroughly proofread. I hope you all enjoy this!! Thanks to @saradika-graphics for the dividers.
Disclaimer: This story does not reflect the real lives or personalities of Stray Kids. I do not know them personally. This is purely a work of fiction.
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You exhaled deeply, your main focus was on not choking on your own saliva. You were bound and gagged, laying on the expensive rug of your boyfriend's downtown apartment. The panoramic view of the city was your backdrop to the filthy scene that was playing out, with you as the main character. Guess you could say you were in a festive mood, all things considered. You honestly looked like a turkey with the way your legs were tied. Bent at the knee and tied in two places, once at the ankles and once at the thighs to prevent you from moving your legs in any way your boyfriend didn't like. 
There was a spreader bar attached to the ropes that kept your legs open, your pussy on full display for anyone to watch. Even the people in the high-rise across the street would be able to see any and everything they wanted if their hearts so desired. Your hands were cuffed with the same material your legs were and were connected to the bar that kept your feet apart. You also had a nice ball gag in your mouth, because why the fuck not at this point? You were stuck, but the longer you sat like this, under the careful watch of your significant other and his friend, the more you liked it.
“And you were really up for this? For me to.. fuck her too?” Your boyfriend nodded at the other man's question. 
“She wanted this to be your birthday present.” He sighed, “I normally would object, since I don't like to share, but just look at how she looks.” He stuffed a hand in his pocket as he took in your appearance. 
“She almost looks like she should be the centerpiece on a table, no?” His friend chuckled.
Chris took his bottom lip between his teeth and chewed on it. “You ready baby?” You whimpered and nodded. You were wet and exposed, but thankfully the fire that burned nearby kept her warm and toasty. “You can start, Minho. I kinda want to watch.” Minho was thankful to his hyung for inviting him into his home like this, presenting him with such a beautiful and pliant present. He wasn't one to pass up a good time when one was offered so generously. He stepped closer, his slippers mere inches from where you lay. 
“I heard you've been thinking about this for a while now. Such a dirty little whore, lusting after another man's cock.” He kneeled right next to you and pulled up a little by your neck. “I hope you enjoy all that's coming to you.”
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This had honestly started off as a joke. You really didn’t think he would take you seriously when you said it. It was a joke. A bad joke, but a joke nonetheless. You were just going to get a cute cat tower for Minho’s birthday, one he had mentioned he wanted in passing. He was your boyfriend's friend, so anything too extravagant looked a little weird on your end. So when he asked, you jokingly said, “How about I give him some head for his birthday?” You hid your joking smile behind the wine glass you had in hand. But when he seemed to really be thinking about it, you almost told him you were joking until he answered. 
“Okay. I think that would make his birthday. He deserves it after the year he’s had.” You were in shock, your wine almost choking you as you took a sip. It took more than a moment to compose yourself after his unexpected answer. 
“Wait- are you serious right now?” He nodded, “You really want me to give him head? Minho?” You could admit that there was something about Minho that really made you curious as to how he would fuck. You'd heard the rumors about how talented he was with his hips, and it went without mentioning just how much damage that silver tongue of his could do. You'd even had a friend that told you of a girl passing out from the sheer pleasure she felt while fucking him. But head was head and you truthfully shouldn’t be thinking of anything deeper than that. He’s your boyfriend's friend after all.
“Just head? Are you sure?” His lips curled into a smile as he looked at you from the other end of the couch. “Because… we could make this a full blown threesome and make his year.” Just the look he gave you, sent chills up her spine. You’d never seen your boyfriend in this light. He was usually very selfish with your time with him. That was in no way a bad thing, you loved it actually. Due to his line of work, you couldn’t see him as often as you’d like. So his monopolization of your time was seen as sweet and not an act of pure control.
“Huh?” You were unsure. “Threesome? Chris… I was jus-” He cut you off, pulling out his phone.
“I'll contact him.” And that's how You ended up like this, laying in the living room like a stuffed Thanksgiving turkey.
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Minho didn't bother unbuckling his belt, he just unzipped his trousers and reached his hand in, pulling his member out of the hole in his boxers and through the unzipped opening in his pants. 
“You said she's good with her mouth, right?” Chris smirked proudly as he took a seat on the sofa, legs spread wide.
“Yes. She actually gets pleasure from it. She aims to please.” He leaned back, getting comfortable, so he could enjoy the show.
“You really have no idea just what He says about you in the group chat, do you?” He kneeled next to your head, taking care not to sit on your hair. “All the little nasty things he's said you've done. All the photos he sends us to make us jealous. And now I get to have my turn.” He gently moved your hair from your face, before unbuckling the gag that your boyfriend so lovingly put in your mouth.
Your lips were swollen, mouth tired from being wrapped around the toy ball for quite some time.
“There's that pretty little mouth.” He tossed the gag somewhere behind him, having no use for it now. His thumb traced your lips, smearing the saliva that had settled from the gag.“That pretty little mouth he loves to show off wrapped around his cock.” 
Chris had your permission to show off pictures to his friends. Most of them were faceless anyway, they could imagine anyone they wanted to, it didn't have to be you. He slipped his thumb into your mouth, watching carefully as you sucked the digit. You kept your eyes on him, feeling almost like you were incapable of looking away.
There was a fire that burned in his eyes, one that told you he wanted to do unspeakable things to you.  “Open that pretty little mouth for me.” You did as told, without an ounce of hesitancy. You stuck your tongue out to accept whatever it was he was going to offer next. He slipped his thumb out and quickly replaced it with his cock. 
Minho was longer than you expected. His girth slid into your wet mouth, inch by inch. He placed a caring hand on your cheek as he started down at you, watching you take him in. He paused halfway, head tipping back with a loud groan passing his lips. “Fuck… I se-see why you always show off how well she takes you.” His head tipped forward again. “Her mouth feels amazing.” 
Chris chuckled from the couch. “Yeah, well wait until you feel her tight cunt.” His words made you clench around nothing. You really weren't expecting to get this far, let alone far enough for him to actually fuck you.
Minho started to pull back, before thrusting slowly back into your mouth. His eyes traveled down your body to your glistening folds, the crackling fire adding just the right amount of light to illuminate it. He had the perfect view of it in the strange mirror Chris had set up in the middle of the living room. Just the thought of finally getting to fuck you, made him want to blow his load. 
He'd been curious about you since the first time his hyung introduced you to him. He could honestly detail every second of that moment without missing a step. From the thigh length, form fitting, black dress you wore. To how you smelled like vanilla, tuberose, with a light hint of arousal tied right into what he could recall as being the most sensual scent he's ever had the pleasure of inhaling. 
Even to the smallest detail of the hickey on your neck from what he would assume to be a quick, yet steamy makeout session with Chris before you both entered the restaurant. He couldn't blame the man, you were drop dead gorgeous. He had to applaud him for even making it into the building at all. Because If he was given the chance, he would have fucked you in the parking lot while all his friends waited for his arrival. Nothing wrong with being fashionably late to your own birthday party. 
One particularly hard thrust and the sound of you gagging pulled him back into the room. Your wet mouth had sent him into a daydream, he could see how easy it would be just to drift off until he'd come crashing back down to earth with a soul crushing orgasm. He pulled back, taking his member in his hand, rubbing the tip against your lips in an attempt to ground himself in the moment. He'd seem like a bitch if he came less than five minutes in. 
But you were relentless, even with just him tracing your lips with his tip, you still took the initiative to slot his member between your lips, sucking the underside of it as best you could, given the fact that you were completely bound. 
“She isn't made of glass, you know? I guarantee you she's thinking that right now. She doesn't like being treated like she's fragile. Trust me, she tells me that all the time.” Chris mumbled the last part, but Minho still heard him loud and clear. His eyes met yours and you nodded. Neither of you knew he was taking his time for his own sanity. He resigned himself, taking in a deep breath, then exhaling. He grabbed a fistful of your hair with one hand and led his cock back into your mouth with the other.
He'd have to fuck your mouth like he'd wanted to do all these months. Liked he'd imagine he was doing every time he fucked his fist to the pictures his hyung sent. He'd tried not to fap to them at first, but what else were these benevolent gifts for if not for high quality spank bank material? With a tight grip on your hair he resumed thrusting. Letting you get adjusted, before slamming his cock into your mouth like you clearly wanted him to. It was something about the way you hollow your cheeks. Something in the way you glide your tongue on the underside of his stiff cock. Something in the way your moans sound for him as he fucks your throat. 
If mere pictures could make him unravel, what would happen now that he got to feel you? You constricted your throat, making him groan, causing his hips to stutter. “Fuck…” You kept doing with every other deep trust, making him spiral. Minho came undone, his seed slipping down your throat, despite his best efforts not to cum too soon. He let out a guttural moan, grip on your hair tightening as he came hard. You continued to suck, not wanting a drop to go to waste. “Sto-stop, stop.” He had to pull away, if not, he'd risk overestimation. With the prospect of being able to fuck you he couldn't risk that. 
“Now you know why I always show off, yeah?” Minho felt like he'd gone deaf in one ear and blind on the same side, because he didn't hear or see Chris get up, nor did his words register until after he'd gotten to his side. All he could do was nod, his brain wasn't functioning at a high enough level to form a response. “Scoot. It's my turn.” Minho obliged, crawling a few paces away to give his friend room. Only then did he notice his friend had undressed. It felt like maybe he'd blacked out for a moment, that was the only way he could explain the unexplained time jump after he'd nut.
“You doing okay, pretty girl?” Chris gently wiped a tear that had fallen from your eye. You nodded. You were more than okay. How many other girls could say they were lucky enough to participate in a threesome with their boyfriend and his very handsome friend? Probably not many. You were soaked and ready to have more than just your mouth fucked. “Good. Because I want your best, yeah? You know how I like it.”
He knew you knew exactly what he liked and you were more than happy to indulge him. It was Chris's turn to kneel next to your head. He was even closer than Minho, practically straddling your neck. He bypassed his dick entirely and grabbed his balls, fisting the sack. “Open wide for me baby.” The words barely left his lips and you eagerly did as told, opening your mouth as wide as you could.
Minho waited with bated breath, to finally get a chance to see just how well you took his friend. Pictures, as he'd recently found out, don't do you justice. While they were beyond hot, to feel you for himself took things to a whole different level. Chris was already hard. He wouldn't admit it, but seeing you like this did something to him that he couldn't quite explain. Now, he wasn't saying that the situation would ever happen again, but he could say he was enjoying himself.
You took His balls into your mouth, sucking on the skin as he stroked his length. “You're so fucking good, baby.” He tipped his head back. The combination of your mouth on his balls and his skilled hands working on his own length was euphoric. Minho watched on, in awe of just how well you worked together. You knew your boyfriend well and even without you being able to touch him, you could still lend a hand in pleasing him.
He noticed how you clenched around nothing, wetness already dripping from your untouched cunt. His eyes finally focused on the plug that sat snugly in your ass. Your wetness had dripped over the shiny heart-shaped diamond. God, how he wanted to taste you. Your wetness tempted him, begging him to come closer. He didn't even realize he'd moved until he was face to face with your pussy. He took a tentative lick, unsure if he was even allowed to do it. You moaned, squirming underneath him, alerting Chris to what was happening between your legs. He looked back, an amused smirk on his face.
“Just couldn’t resist, hmm?” He chuckled as Minho glanced up at him, mouth busy between your folds. You could feel him smirk against you, too occupied to answer your boyfriend's question. He went back to work, getting the confirmation he needed from both you and Chris. Was this your birthday or his? Because this was some extreme wish fulfillment here. Your boyfriend's balls in your mouth and a handsome man enjoying his birthday gift between your legs. What more could a girl ask for? 
Clearly you could ask for more. Chris leaned back, pulling his balls from your mouth, just to replace it with his thick cock. You clenched again as you gagged, much to both Chris and Minho’s delight. You pushed even more wetness on the man between your legs’ tongue, making him groan. How could Chris not talk about how good you tasted? How sweet your pussy was to devour? He dove in even more. He wasn’t afraid of drawing, even if he couldn’t swim. His moans and smacks are what alerted your boyfriend as to why you were shaking, why tears were pricking your eyes. He smiled to himself. Glad you were getting pleasure out of this for yourself. While he loved to use you, he didn’t want you to feel used. 
Your hands were balled into fists. This was almost too much for you to take. Your mouth was full, your ass plugged, Minho had just stuffed two fingers inside of you, all while he mercilessly toyed and sucked on your clit. Your legs were shaking, you couldn’t help it. What was a girl like you to do? Chris pushed his dick in as far as it could go. Reaching between his legs, thumb on your throat to constrict your breathing. Your body tensed. This was it. This was how you reached heaven. Your vision blurred, tears beginning to stream down your face as you came. He pulled his cock out of your mouth, allowing you a little room to breathe. Thick strings of saliva connected you to his member as you choked out a long wonton moan.
You couldn’t see the satisfied look on your boyfriend's face, but you knew it was there. Meanwhile, Minho happily ate to his content. He had tuned out anything but the soft cackling of the fire and your moans. He wanted to make you feel good. He knew this was the one and only time he’d get to do so, Chris had told him as much when he gave him the rundown for the night's events. So Minho wasn’t going to take this opportunity lightly. With your clit still in his mouth, he added another finger to your cunt, totalling them to three. He searched for the squishy little pad inside of you, pressing up on it, dragging his fingers back and forth on it. Luckily for him, you couldn’t move, because you seemed like you wanted to run, as overstimulation started to take over. You cried out, unable to do much else. 
“What's he doing to you baby?” Chris asked smugly, index and thumb grabbing your chin, lifting you. He forced you to look at what the birthday boy was doing between your legs. You almost came from the sigh alone. His face was smeared with your essence, eyes completely dark with lust, fingers stretching you out as he continuously hammered your g-spot. Your second climax hit you without warning. Your squirt forcefully being pulled from you, painting the man's face and fingers between your legs. You let out a scream that reverberates off the dark walls of the apartment. Thankfully you knew that the walls were well insulated and the neighbors wouldn’t be calling the cops to file a noise complaint. “Look at that…” Chris almost looked proud at the mess you’d made. “You’re spoiling my baby, Minho.” 
The man groaned against you, still licking up all of your juices, determined not to leave a trace behind. You were intoxicating. Minho was absolutely enamored with you. From the fucked out look that graced your face to the taste, smell, and aura of you. He could shamelessly say that the little crush he harbored for you, might be developing into something more. But he couldn’t think of that now. What would his hyung say if he ever found out his feelings? He pulled back, pushing thoughts of wanting you for his own, out of his head. “You ready, baby?” Chris ran a loving hand down the center of your chest, under your tied arms and over your stomach.
“Since it’s Minho’s special day, I’ll let him decide if he wants your tight little ass or cunt. Okay?” You nodded with wide sparkling eyes. Any bit of tiredness was washed away with the prospect of being fully stretched by two men. That made Minho painfully hard. He groaned as he sat on his knees, fingers finding their way to his member, tugging it to feel a bit of relief as he thought about what he wanted. If he was being truthful with himself, he’d admit he wanted to be shellfish and have you all to himself. But he couldn’t do that, not here. Not when his friend was so nice to share you with him. “What do you say, Minho?”
“Pussy.” There was a hint of desperation in his voice. He needed this. He needed to feel you wrapped around him.
“Pussy it is, then.” Chris undid your restraints, your hands going to each of your wrist to rub where the fabric had left behind little marks. Something to remember the beginning of the night by, at least until they faded. Chris stood and being the gentleman he was, helped you up to your feet. He made sure you were steady as he led you to the couch. First he had you bend over, legs spread, so that he could carefully remove the plug from your ass. But not without toying with it first, pulling it in and out, making sure your hole was nice and stretched for him. Next was the application of lube to both of your holes and his member. “Here,” motioned the bottle towards Minho, who was forced to peel his eyes away from the sight between your legs to take it. 
Chris was the first to lie down on the couch, leading you to lie with your back to his chest. Deft fingers, led his member to your waiting ass hole, and he expertly guided it in. Your head rolled back onto Chris’s shoulder as he filled you up, pushing you down slowly on him, making you take him inch by inch. Minho stood there, just watching as your face morphed into one of pure ecstasy. He was still tugging on his length, readying himself for you. Chris waved him over, letting him know it was his turn to slide in, and he honestly couldn’t wait. Despite not wanting to come off as too eager.
He swallowed the lump of spit that settled in his throat as soon as he kneeled on the couch between your legs. You were spread wide, lubed up, ass stuffed full of cock, while your pussy waited to be filled by him. Only him. He was still gripping the lube in his hand and used a bit more of it on himself before tossing it and lining his member up with your entrance. He slid the tips back and forth through your folds, making you jerk and squeeze your boyfriend. Chris’ grip on your thighs tightened, spreading you even wider. The sight made Minho dizzy. “Please…” The whine that fell from your lips nearly drained the man of his life force. “Please Minho…” You reached a hand between your legs, spreading your lips even more for him. 
He nearly crumbled. He wasted no time, sliding in, feeling your warmth envelope him. His eyes rolled back in the back of his head. This had to be the best feeling in the world. You were warm and tight, made even tighter by your boyfriend stuffing your ass. He took a moment to savor the feeling, before he started moving. That was Chris’ cue to do the same. You bit the back of your hand, to keep yourself from screaming. The feeling was indescribable.The initial pain subsided so quickly it scared you. Chris moved your hand. “Let us hear you, baby.” He dragged his nose along the column of your neck and pressed a kiss under your ear. “Let us know you feel good.”
You nodded, eyes focusing on the man in front of you. His eyes completely focused on where you were connected. Fixated on the way your walls pulled him back in every time he pulled back. The lube slowly mixes with your cream, and the sight would be one he’d remember for the rest of his life. What other birthday was like this? Has there ever been a gift given to him that was better? Nothing could top this. Well- unless he got to do this every year. He picked up his pace, loving the grip you had on him. Your eyes closed, mouth agape, but only long enough for fingers to be stuffed inside it. You felt spit coat your clit, causing your eyes to flutter open in time to see Minho rubbing it fervently. He wanted this to be a mind blowing experience for you too.
Your hand flew to his wrist, almost ready to pry it away. But the pleading look in his eyes made you pause. He angled his hips in just the right way, the tip of his member brushing against your spot, making your toes curl. Tears once again brimmed your eyes, the feeling of both men fucking you open was almost too much to take but at the same time you wanted more. Wanted to give them as much pleasure as they were giving you. You squeezed your walls, tightening around both of them. Chris’ hand that was still holding your thigh, moved to your neck, squeezing it in retaliation. Minho picked up his pace, fucking into you faster, using his years of dance training to further impress you. A few more flicks of his fingers against your clit had you coming undone. Shaking wildly between the two men. 
But that didn’t stop their thrusts, if anything that encouraged them to keep going, extending your hard orgasm. Minho did at least give your clit a break, reaching for your nipples, to pinch and pull on both. You let out a choked sob, feeling on the edge of hysteria. Chris' hand relaxed around your throat, the fingers he had in your mouth stroked your tongue. His hips gave a few more thrusts up into you before he unloaded right in your ass. You grabbed at his hand, nails, digging into the skin of his wrist. You could feel his seed seeping out of you as he stilled. He softly ran his fingers over your sweat slicked stomach, soothingly.
Minho was still going. He leaned in, kissing the parts of you he was allowed to. Your lips were off limits, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t get close. He littered your jaw with kisses and bites, then did the same to your neck and chest. Once again he was like a man starved, needing to consume every last bit of you. He left marks all over your skin. Hoping that you would cherish the small amount of time you could share together, because this was certainly going to be burned into his brain. This was now going to be a part of his personality, something deeply embedded into his psyche.
The way you were looking at him, like he had the power to unmake you at this very moment was making his head spin. “Minho…fill me up… please…” You reached a hand out, fingers brushing over his cheek as you looked him in his eyes. This was delusion inducing. He didn’t need you to look at him like that. What was he to do if he fell for your charms any harder than he already had. He shook his head, closing his eyes to break the searing eye contact you had with him.
Chris chuckled, reminding Minho of his presence. “Baby, I think you are fucking with his head looking at him like that.” Minho’s eyes shot open. What did that mean? “Don’t lead him on… tell him what you want.” He grabbed your chin to keep your eyes on Minho. “Tell him again what my dirty girl wants.”
Your tongue darted out, wetting your slightly parched lips. “Cum inside me, Minho….” You were pleading with him now and how could you not oblige? “Fuck it deep into this pussy… it’s yours for the night…” Could he get high off words? It felt like more than his lower head was about to pop. That was all it took for him to burst. He pushed his hips flush against yours, hands moving to your hips to keep them in places as his streams of cum filled you up. You reached for his face again, dragging your thumb over his bottom lip, as your eyes stared deep into his. He didn’t need a kiss if this was how you treated him. But if he had one wish, this night would never end. He’d repeat it over and over again until the end of time.
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© ✐Channieskies 『MINORS DNI! This post contains nsfw material. Please do not interact with it if you are under the age of 18. Do not translate or repost here or on other sites. Please leave a like , comment, and reblog if you enjoyed this story.♥』
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sincerelyneo · 9 months ago
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hickeys | z.cl
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❯ summary: Your boyfriend, Chenle, is competitive. And even though the comment about you giving better hickeys than him was a joke — he’s always up for the chance to prove you wrong. Yes, he loves you, but that doesn’t mean he’d let you get away with thinking he was bad at something — especially not something you claim you’re better at than him — so he settles it.
❯ pairings: chenle x fem!reader
❯ genre: established relationship, very suggestive, fluffish, very slight minor angst, reader is slightly inexperienced.
❯ words: 2.9k
❯ tags: 18+ minors dni!, marking/hickeys, a lot of kissing, light petting, chenle is sulky, brief mentions of jealousy, chenle and reader have a hickey competition idk????
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“Can you believe the nerve of that guy?” your boyfriend huffs, shaking off his coat as the two of you usher through your shared apartment. 
He’s pissed — scrap that — he’s beyond fuming. He’s angry that the guy at the coffee shop you frequent every morning thought he could ask you for your number the moment he slipped away to the bathroom.
He just can’t seem to quite understand it. It’s not like you were alone — you and Chenle had walked in together. And Chenle knew the guy on the counter knew who he was because, for the last three months of your relationship, the two of you had made it a habit to get coffee at that same cafe on your street corner every morning. 
“He probably just didn’t realise we were together. Don’t think too hard about it babe,” you say wrapping your hands around his waist as he hangs up his stuff on the coat rack.
Chenle rolls his eyes before turning around. He’s upset you’re trying to brush this off, but he knows it’s not your fault so he still places a gentle kiss on the top of your head. Then, he unwraps your hands from him and walks to sink into the soft black couch, pulling out his phone and scrolling through it. 
You know he’s still pissed but is pretending not to be. You see the harsh way he’s gripping his phone case, and the way his eyebrows keep knitting together, and the frustrated sighs he keeps letting pass through his nose. 
But the whole thing is silly really — but you know he doesn’t see it that way. And honestly, if the shoe was on the other foot, you’d be beyond pissed too. 
“He didn’t realise we were together my ass,” he mumbles.
You cross your arms over your chest as you stand in front of him, “are you seriously jealous right now?”
He sees the way you’re smirking at him, teasing him, and he hates it. 
“Being jealous would mean he has something I want-” he puts his phone down on the spot next to him and leans forward on his knees, eyes fixed on you “-I already have you. He should be jealous of me.”
You let that comment slide with a roll of your eyes.
“He might just be new, LeLe, and he might not have seen us walk in together.” 
Chenle knows that’s not possible. He knows the barista was not some new recruit — he was the same guy he’s clocked eyeing you every time he seemed to be on shift. Your boyfriend hated the way the man's eyes would flick to your lips as you ordered; and the way he’d let his hand linger for too long when passing you your change. 
At first, he didn’t mind it. He was proud to have such a beautiful girlfriend that was so unaware of the effect she had on other people. What bothered him was when he made a point to wrap his hand around your waist, tight, and the man didn’t care, still making advances at you. 
Yeah, that’s what pissed him off. 
“It doesn’t matter, he should have seen that hickey on your neck and minded his own fucking business,” he growls. 
Your eyes widen, remembering the way your boyfriend lightly feathered kisses down your neck before sucking down, only hard enough to leave a light bruise as replacement when he pulled off with a pop, last night.
It’s then you realise he’d made sure to do that to you every single night for the last three months — even if you weren’t having sex that night. And even though the mark would be slightly faded come the morning, you still reprimand him for it. 
In fact, your boyfriend had never expressed an interest in marking you until you had started your morning coffee ritual. And then it clicks. 
“Zhong Chenle, have you been marking me on purpose?!”
Your sulky boyfriend sheepishly sinks back into the couch, lips pursing into a line. Your hands go to your hips, and so do his eyes, as you wait for a response from him. 
“It’s not like that, Y/N, I swear, it’s just…he…ugh…I don’t know,” he’s starting to get flustered and you can’t help but giggle at him. 
You take the seat beside him, holding his hands in yours. 
“You’ve been giving me hickeys every single night to prove that I’m yours?” you ask, a smirk twitching at the corner of your lips. Chenle nods, making you smile. “Well, you’re not doing a very good job at it if guys are still hitting on me.”
You’re joking, trying to lighten the mood and add a smile to his face, but he doesn’t find you funny. The minute the words leave your lips, Chenle’s eyes darken, and the hold you have on each other’s hands tightens. 
“What’s that supposed to mean?” 
He drops your hands immediately and turns his body to face away from you. You realise you’re making the situation worse and can’t believe your boyfriend’s being so sulky about something you thought was a none issue. 
“Oh come on, Chenle. I’m just playing around,” you bring your hand to his cheek to turn him back to look at you. He brushes your hand away, but stays facing you — you’re thankful for that at least. 
“Sounds like your saying I give bad hickeys,” he mumbles. You have to laugh at him, he’s being ridiculous. “It’s not funny.”
You roll your eyes, “No, I’m saying maybe I should give you the hickeys from now on to clear up everyone’s confusion.”
“You think you give better hickeys than I do?” His eyes have narrowed on you.
You knew of your boyfriend’s competitive nature, and now he’s giving you a look he only ever really gives to Haechan when the two of them play video games; or Jisung when they’re playing basketball. But now, he’s directing that look at you, tense jaw, tight fist, slit eyes. 
He looks so hot like this, all riled up, confronted and pissed off at you. You can’t help but swallow the lump in your throat and clench your thighs together as your pussy flutters at the sight. 
“Chenle, I’m playing with you-”
“You’re challenging me,” he corrects, leaning in to brush against your skin. He whispers discreetly in your ear. 
You don’t dare to make a sound, feeling the pit in your stomach rise. He takes his middle and pointer fingers and taps them against last night’s purple mark. He pokes his tongue out of his mouth then you feel his wet lips brush the spot. Your breath hitches and Chenle laughs, the throaty sound vibrating on your neck so good you almost moan. 
“This isn’t good enough for you, huh?” he pulls back to examine his work. His fingers are rough as he rubs up and down against the mark, cooing as he soothes the soft spot of your skin. Once he stops, you gasp as his hand grips your jaw so that your eyes meet his. “Think you can do better?”
“C-Chenle,” you breathe out as his grip keeps you in place. You love the dominance the gesture exerts. 
His other hand grazes up your thigh, his thumb caressing the inner part of your skin. The touch is small, but it doesn’t stop your body from going on fire. 
“I think we should put this to the test, don’t you think?” 
“W-W-What do you mean?” You can’t think straight, not with his hand inching closer and closer to your panties. And you know the minute he reaches them, he’ll tease you about the wetness already pooling there. 
“I suck your neck, you suck mine,” he nuzzles back into your neck now, his breath fanning over you as he whispers low. “See which one of us is really better.” 
You shove him back because you can’t believe what he’s saying. Chenle never lets you mark him, not with his job, so you’re in a state of disbelief. That and you just couldn’t take any more of him acting like this without jumping his bones right there on the couch. 
"That’s not fair, you know you have more experience than I do,” you object. 
Chenle huffs, “You’re the one who started this by saying I give bad hickeys.” 
“I never said that.” 
“Might as well of.” 
He’s impossible. 
"And besides baby, have you ever heard of quality over quantity, you could prove me wrong-” his touch comes back as he nuzzles in closer. “I don’t think you will, but I’d love to go see you try.” 
Now it was your turn to feel challenged. If this was how he wants to play, then fine. You were gonna do this, and you were gonna give it your all proving him wrong. You narrow your eyes and lick your lips. 
"Alright, fine. But I’m going first,” you turn your body a fraction to meet his direction. 
Chenle tilts his head back upright and looks at you with shock. You glimmer a grin, knowing he wasn’t expecting you to agree so soon.
“Bold for someone who was just complaining about having a lack of experience,” he teases and you scowl. 
"Ever heard of quality over quantity?" You mimic him.
Then, you're tilting his head and leaning into the crook of his neck. You start off gently, easing in very calm and slow. His lips gently part at the plush feeling of your lips. You’re taking your time with it — and it’s killing him. You don’t suck or bite just yet, only gently kissing him in very calming spots. 
You begin to pick up speed starting to suck but keeping a gradual build. You moan into his skin causing vibrations to ripple through him making him grunt. When you pop off and look at the red mark starting to bruise on the side of his neck, you smile. You look down to see his cock straining against his jeans — and that does wonders for your ego. 
“Don’t get too smug-” he pulls your hips closer to him. “It’s my turn now.” 
Your stomach starts to turn in your nerves as you straighten your back so you’re closer to his head level. Your chest gently rises up and down as his hands start gripping your thighs. He’s so close you notice just how good he smells. 
You felt a brief exhale from him, humid air gliding down the arch of your neck. You gently shallow out your breathing, and that’s when he leans in to make contact with you.
You force your eyes to stay open, wanting to bask in the feeling of his warm contact on your sensitive skin. Your boyfriend was also one cocky motherfucker, so you refuse to let a sound slip from your mouth or allow your eyes to shutter in ecstasy. 
His first initial touch is wet and warm. And when he starts moving, he begins slowly with very tender kisses. He does that thing you love when he moves up closer to your ear knowing that’s the spot that gives you the most pleasure. 
You know this isn’t a fair battlefield. Chenle knows all the right things to do that have you squirming and writhing underneath him — and God did he know it. You’d never given him a hickey before, so you were already at a disadvantage. 
His kisses keep getting heavier, parting his lips with a subtle suck between his teeth, sending sharp shocks through your body. He notices you jolt and starts soothing the skin with a lapse of his tongue after.
Then he starts integrating suction, right below your ear. He sucks with a roughness he knew  you enjoyed, breathing heavily in an almost pant. You couldn't help but allow your eyes to feather shut against your will. You bite the inside of your cheek, refusing to make a sound and feed his already large ego. 
His hand grasps your side, gripping you firmly right below your rib cage. The touch applies heat to your stomach, the pleasure of his fingers digging into your sides. He sucks on different places until he’s back up to lace under your ear. You bite your cheek harder as his hands start gripping your bare thighs more aggressively.
Those hands start creeping further up your skirt until his left-hand rests above your panties. He takes your earlobe between his teeth, and at the same time, his hot breath huffed right into your ear. You uncontrollably shiver and tilt your head back a bit, making him smile against you sadistically.
"Aren’t you fidgety?" He whispers, as his hands start teasing the material. He loved to gravel a choppy exhale against your ear, knowing the sound and feeling always made you shiver.
“Because you’re not playing fair, Chenle,” you grip his hand, stopping him. 
He knows he’s not — but he doesn’t care. The only thing he cares about right now is winning and hoping you swallow your words. 
“Really?” He asks, “I don’t remember us having any rules.” 
His face is flush flat right against your cheek, his deep breath exhales on your skin as he loves every minute of you squirming. 
“W-We didn’t, but this is c-cheating,” you finally let out a whimper and want to curse yourself after trying so hard to fight it. 
“What’s cheating?” He asks innocently, his hand moving back to the wet material between your legs. 
“This,” you grab hold of his wrist, but you're not strong enough to stop the way he teases your waistband and glides his rough digit above your pubic bone. 
“What’s ‘this’?” 
“You’re not allowed to touch me like this. It’s cheating!” 
Chenle laughs but doesn't remove his hand. And deep down you didn’t want him to — despite your protests. Instead, he greedily makes you take your own hand, which was white-knuckling your other thigh, so he could have full access to spread your legs open. Your chest was rising now, eyes looking down at the large ring-covered hand brushing between your thighs. Chenle’s eyes flicker with lust, and you’re certain yours do too. 
He curls his lips into your neck, satisfied. The gentle noise of euphoria he had gotten out of you was enough to fuel his fire, because from there he started going harder. He continues grunting against your ear, lacing down just below it to leave what you assume to be violent marks. 
His large hand curls into your underwear rather than just sitting on top of it. You cussed under your breath, stomach jumping. 
He doesn’t touch you, leaving his hand to just linger before your folds. It causes a burning heat between your legs so much that you couldn’t help but shift in your seat. Your body was screaming to be touched at this point.
"Are you sure you want to consider this cheating?" Chenle coaxes in your now sensitive ear. “Wouldn’t want to break the rules now, would I?” 
You know he’s lying. He’s never given a fuck about rules. Ever. 
You shake your head, trying to shift and cause any kind of friction you could get, but Chenle snaps his hand from out of your panties. 
You’re so overwhelmed at this point but in the best way possible. His lips continue to massage your neck in rough-tempered ways, his hand only rubbing the skin of your thigh but they’re almost quivering.
“Please Chenle,” you whine. 
The game had completely left your mind by now. His hand eventually moves to your core, and he cups you over your panties. You uncontrollably let out a struggled moan, being too turned on to handle anything right now. He delicately grazes his fingers up and down your covered pussy. 
"Still think I’m bad at this?” He talks into your neck.
"I-I never—”
Chenle’s fingers suddenly — but finally — slip into your underwear, making you gasp when you feel him graze your naked folds. Your body flexes in startle, but even the lightest touch from him felt so good.
"You’re wet.." He whispers, pulling his hand back out.
You hated the way he kept doing that. 
You pull your head away from his lips, making him lock eyes with you. When he did, his face dropped a bit when he picked up your lustful expression. His eyes flick to your chest, rising up and down. 
His hand stills on your thigh, "Still think you’re better at this than me?”
Fuck no. 
You shake your head violently making him grin. There’s more amusement in his eyes than you would have liked but right now you don’t care — you just needed him. 
He takes the fingers that have toyed with you and taps them against the wet spot on your neck. He coos, rubbing over the stinging skin.
"Think this should be enough to keep him away from you.”
You bite your lip and nod. You can’t see the damage just yet — but the way he’s just been ravaging your neck — you're sure he’s done a number on you. 
Your chest is still rising up and down. Core aching and body screaming at you to beg for him. 
"Say it, baby," He tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "Say I won, and I’ll touch you…”
You don’t waste a second more, your body on fire with need. 
“Of course, you won, Chenle! Now hurry up and fuck me!”
425 notes · View notes
ihavethedreamies · 7 months ago
Text
In the Doghouse | Yeosang
Kang Yeosang - ATEEZ
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Rating: M (18+) MDNI
Word Count: ~4.8k
Pairing: Dog-Hybrid!Yeosang x Cat-Hybrid!AFAB!Reader
Genre: Hybrid AU!, Historical/Period, Reader-Insert, Fluff, Smut, Some Plot, Strangers-to-Friends-to-Lovers
!!This is smut…if that much isn't clear you should probably leave now!! MDNI!
Warnings: She/Her Pronouns used, Pet Names (Kitten, Love), Swearing, Kissing, Biting/Marking, Bonding/Mating, Heat/Rut, Pheromones, Oral (F! Receiving), Unprotected Sex (This is pre-birth control so…), Breeding Kink (u3u)
Trigger Warning: There is some talk of abuse and/or neglect in this. It doesn't go into detail, but the reader in beginning is living with a cruel relative. It's not related to Yeosang or the relationship between the two. Also, Yeosang is a 'Police Dog', but there is very little talk of police and cops.
Author's Note: This is NOT Omegaverse, but they do both go into rut/heat. They have animals ears and tails and he's got a knotted doggy cock. Yeosang is supposed to be a Doberman, even though the breed wasn't in this time period. This is set in the late Victorian Era of London, and sorry if it's not completely accurate to the time.
I will be doing all the members and uploading them as I go. I normally like to upload a whole series at a time but I'm trying to pack to move.
-> Series Hub <-
🦁 Hongjoong's 🦁
🐻 Jongho's 🐻
🐯 San's 🐯
I am cross-posting this on Archive and Wattpad. Please reblog! If you know anyone that would like this or future fics but they aren't on here my name and icon are exactly the same on the other sites. Happy reading!
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"Geddat fuckin' cat!" You heard the storekeeper’s shout echo through the narrow street as you dashed in the opposite direction. You clutched the bag closer to you, hoping to hide it from prying eyes. You purposefully wrapped your tail around your leg, hoping to make it less obvious, ears flattening to your head to blend in with your hair. Turning a narrow corner into an alley, you heard some footsteps against the cobblestone behind you, but they ran past where you had entered. Leaving the alley into the opposite street, you turned the way you had come, back toward your house. Sliding into another back alley, you placed the strings of the bag in your mouth. Without stopping, you jumped up onto the ladder hanging down from your second-story window. Climbing up the rungs, you pulled the window open all the way and jumped into your bedroom. Unhooking the rope and wood ladder from the windowsill, you reeled it in and shut the window. Panting for breath, you rested against the wall, sliding down so you were sitting on the floor. Heaving for air, you glanced at the bag that you had brought it, laying in a heap on the floor under the window. Finally, when you could breathe easily enough, you got on your knees so you could reach and grab the sack, opening it. Inside, the two loaves of bread were still steaming and your stomach rumbled in desire.
"Man, I wanna fish…" You sniffed in displeasure, tail whipping angrily behind you. It was bad enough you had to steal food to eat, but all you could typically manage was some bread or maybe potatoes. As you stood to close your door so you could enjoy your haul, you heard banging from downstairs. Someone was pounding on the door. You heard your aunt call for the person to hold on and you stood still, staring at the open door of your bedroom. Did they really find you? They never had before…
"Hello, madam. I hate to bother you, but I was told that a thief might have made their way into your second story window." You heard from down the hall, at the base of the stairs. Your eyes widened in panic and you prayed that your aunt would cover for you. Fat chance.
"Second story? You've got to… (Y/N) get down here, right now!" She screeched and your ears flattened at the noise. Stepping forward as quietly as you could, you stuck your head out just enough to look past the door frame to see your aunt standing halfway up the stairs. Her own tail was swinging back and forth with ire and her arms were crossed. The nastiest look you had ever seen was on her face and you clicked your tongue.
"What did you steal this time, you lazy stray!" She hissed and you shuffled out of the room, bag hanging limply from your hand at your side. There was a man in a police uniform in the doorway, and next to him…A dog hybrid. He was…beautiful, honestly. Prettier than you for sure. His hair was longer, with a slight wave at the end of the black strands, two tall, pointed ears sticking out from the top of his head. You couldn't see a tail, so it was probably docked into a nub. The hairs at the back of your neck and base of your tail rose, shoulders tensing as you got to the top of the staircase. His sharp eyes met yours, and you knew that's how they found you. Fucking police dogs…
"Give me that!" Your aunt swiped the bag from you, her claw-like nails scratching your hands, making you pull them back. Holding your other hand over the red marks, you glared hard at her when she opened the sack.
"Bread?! You stole bread?!" She hissed, fierce eyes searing holes into your skull.
"Maybe if you didn't fuckin' starve me, I wudduna had ta'!" You hissed back and you flinched as you saw her raise her hand.
"Now, madam, it’s nothing to harm her over. We'll take her to the station." A smooth, deep voice prompted you to open your eyes, seeing the guard dog holding the wrist of your nasty aunt. His grip was loose, so as not to dig his thick claws into your aunt's skin. He should have though… Your aunt took her arm away from him when he let her go and you were more willing to go with him then stay there any longer. Honestly, jail would be a welcome change. You followed the dog down the stairs and your aunt went as well, handing the stolen loaves to the human officer. With a strong hand on your bicep, the police dog led you further down the street, his partner following.
"Did you really steal because she starves you?" The elder officer asked you, his tone gentler than you expected. Your aunt wasn't poor, by any means, but you lived in what was equivalent to a storage room.
"I get a potato every other day if I don't." Your tail flicked nervously, ear flicking when a drop of water hit it. Glancing up at the sky, you sneered at the gathering clouds, feeling another drop land on your face. You wiggled your nose, feeling the drop most likely wash a trail of dirt off your face.
"She doesn't feed you any meat?" The dog furrowed his brow, letting you go, eyes zigzagging over you. It was evident your clothes were somehow too big and too small at the same time, and your boots were old.
"Alley bastards don't deserve meat." You spat out the words you were so used to hearing. It wasn't your fault that your mother slept with a commoner, but your aunt and grandparents took it out on you. The only reason your mother's sister took you in was because she got a tax cut for listing you as living with her.
"How old are you, Miss (Y/N)?" The human officer asked.
"Twenty…somethin'…" You weren't for sure, never celebrated your birthday.
"I think the baker will be willing to forgive if we return the bread. Yeosang?" The officer looked at the dog and you did as well.
"The poverty shelter doesn't take cats, does it? Just dogs?"
"Yessir." The dog, Yeosang, sighed, glancing back to you. The rain seemed to be waiting as well, only a few drops falling as you looked nervously between the two men. What were they going to do with you?
"She could stay with me, if that is alright with her." Yeosang cast you a look, his gaze warm and you blinked in shock. Charity? Wow, you had heard of it before���
"Any where’s better than auntie's…" Your tail was still whipping and the elder officer nodded with a hum.
"Thank you, son. You may get off your shift early. Make sure she gets a good hot meal." The human smiled warmly himself and headed off toward the bakery, bread bag in hand.
"Are ya sure? I'm notta hassle?"
"No, kitten. Let's get you some meat." The hand that had been on your arm went to your upper back so he could pull you to walk next to him, then he led you presumably to his home. Right as you got under the awning over his front door, the rain started to pour.
~*~*~
"Slow down, love. There's plenty." The dog was way gentler with you than you expected. His home was nice and warm, cozy, and smelled good. He had presented you with bread that he had bought the day before, as well as some cured meats, cheese, even some fruit. Not sure where to start, you reached carefully for a slice of summer sausage and then your vision went red, your appetite raring to full force. Yeosang huffed in amusement, able to hear the rapid purr you let out as you ate. When he had removed his uniform coat, he just had on a thin white button up underneath. The shirt did very little to hide the obvious muscle underneath, the buttons struggling to hold still over his chest. As you had started to eat, he rolled the sleeves up to above his elbow, showing toned forearms. He ate more leisurely, and once you were no longer ravenous, you slowed your pace. You took each chance you got to look over him, he was absolutely stunning.
"Yer' from the far east, yah?" You asked around a mouthful of different things you had just shoved in. He hummed with a nod and your eyes flicked to the water ewer he had set on the table and he poured some into a stein. Eagerly taking the drink, you chugged it down, a little bit of the water dripping past your bottom lip. Letting you a groaning exhale after you had gotten everything down, you slumped in your chair. You hadn't felt so full in so long and you weren't expecting to get a nice meal when you stole the bread.
"Are ya' like…a saint or somethin?" You asked, not sure why he would help you.
"Pardon me?"
"You know, like those folks in the Bible that help…saints or whatever…" Your nail clicked against the glass cup you were holding. You weren't very educated, but you tried to retain what little bit of information you had learned.
"Oh, um, no. I think I would just qualify as generous." He smiled bashfully and you let out an 'ah' in realization.
"Thanks for the meal…I um, I don't want to go home but…"
"You don't have to go back there, kitten." The dog smiled, his own pointed ear drooping a bit along with his pitying gaze. Normally that look pissed you off, but you just felt bashful then.
"Do you have somewhere I can go, then?"
"I told you; you can stay here. I have a spare room anyway. It's hard for women to find work, harder yet for a cat hybrid…" He paused to think it seemed.
"I-I can clean! Or, uh…well, I'm good at physical stuff, I can run…places." You weren't sure what else specifically you could do, your only 'skill' was cleaning. Or stealing.
"If you want to help with housekeeping, that's up to you. I am more worried how people might see a man and woman living together outside of marriage." The dog grimaced a bit.
"Oh. Right." You hadn't thought about that… It was one thing for normal everyday people, but he was a public officer.
"What if ya’ hire me? As yer' official housekeep? That wouldn't look suspect, yeah?" You offered.
"That would probably work. For now. Here." He stood up, motioning for you to follow him. You did so, going toward the narrow front entryway and then up the steep stairs to his second floor. There was a room to the left, but he let you into the one on the right, the door right on the landing. It was pretty bare, and to most, small. However, it was way bigger than where you had been before and had a real bed.
"I-I can really stay here?" You felt your throat tighten, stepping further in.
"Of course, love. Tomorrow we can figure out the details, why don't you get some sleep?" You turned back to look at him, that warm and sincere smile still present. Overcome with emotion, you pounced forward, wrapping your arms around his toned middle, cheek to his chest.
"Thank you, Yeosang!" You sniffed, trying not to bawl. He rested his hand on your head, thumb rubbing the back of your ear.
"You're welcome, (Y/N)."
~*~*~
Over the next two months, you lived the best days of your life. Yeosang had commented that his house had never looked so clean, even though it wasn't messy before. After the third day there, and you had thrown up from overeating, you paced yourself more. Finally, you were used to being well fed, and you no longer looked like you were actually starving. The second week you were there, he had taken you to a tailor and bought you two new outfits, ones that actually fit. You preferred the simple shirt and pants, but he also got you a simple dress that was a soft blue. You cried. You had been crying a lot, so touched by how sweet he was being.
One day, you were in the market to buy a few things. No one that you had stolen from in the past knew it was you. Combined with being healthy and clean, you were also in a nice dress and your hair was done.
"(Y/N)!?" The voice made you stop cold, hand still reaching for a squash on the seller's stall table. Your aunt.
"You stupid twat!" She screeched and before you registered where she was, her hand was in your hair, claws scratching your scalp. You yowled, dropping your basket, potatoes and apples rolling away. People gasped, turning to watch the fight, but not stepping in to help.
"I've had to pay more than ever now that you left! I had to pay a bloody fine as well, endangering a ward or something! You little whore! I know you're living with a man not your husband! What would your mother think, you raising your tail for a dog?!" She was screaming, hissing and spitting. You tried to get her to let you go, but not wanting to fight and ruin your dress. You knew the words she was speaking weren't true, but the people around didn't, and you didn't want the negative gossip to get back to Yeosang. When a blowing whistle hit your ears, you mewled in relief, rapid footsteps nearing. The horrible woman was pulled away from you, and you slumped into a pile, holding your head.
"(Y/N), are you okay, love?" Yeosang was quick to your side, looking over your head. A growl was rumbling in his chest as he shot a searing glare at the other woman. You didn't look up to see who the other officers were subduing her, burying your head in Yeosang's chest to hide.
"Oh, kitten." He whined, holding you to him. You wrapped your arms around his neck and he easily lifted you, carrying you toward home, ignoring the stares and whispers.
As you sat on the table, he dabbed at the scratches with a cloth dipped in alcohol, the disinfectant stinging. You winced again and he apologized, trying to be gentle.
"Did you hear what she said?" you whispered. Your eyes were glossing over the bottle next to you, brain trying to process the letters you saw. Yeosang had been teaching you, but you could only read the big word, 'VODKA'.
"It's not true, so it doesn't matter." he whispered back.
"Maybe…I should leave?" Your voice cracked, really not wanting to follow through with the suggestion. The cloth on your head left and he stepped back, hand on your chin to tilt your head back. He looked over your face, noticing your red blotchy cheeks and glossy eyes.
"Why?"
"Because…what if it comes back and hurts you…?" You sniffed, trying to avoid his eyes. His hand left your chin, but then both went to cup your cheeks.
"(Y/N), kitten, I would be heartbroken if you left." The dog's deep voice was so warm, soft, like his hugs.
"Yeah?" He wiped a tear away from your eye and smiled, leaning forward and pressing his forehead to yours.
"Yes. If you're so worried…" He drifted off, one hand leaving your jaw to take yours.
"What if we get married?" He finished and it was like time stopped. Your ears started to ring and you slowly lifted your head back up to look him in the eye again.
"What?" Your voice was so soft that if he wasn't a dog or another hybrid, he probably wouldn't have heard.
"(Y/N), I know it's only been a couple months, but I've fallen in love with you. I want you to stay with me." He brought your hand to his mouth, kissing your knuckles. You burst into tears then, crying hard, harder than you had before, babbling nonsense.
"I-I-I want to stay too!" You cried and he pulled you into his chest, thumb rubbing the back of your ear.
"Then?"
"I wanna be your wife." You mumbled, sniffing hard so you didn't drip snot on his uniform shirt.
The next few minutes were nearly a blur, your mind finally caught up as your back hit his bed, his lips fervently pressing to yours. His breath was heaving, chest rumbling and his sandalwood and rosewater scent was growing stronger. You felt like he was going to swallow you whole, and you wondered why it was said cats and dogs didn't get along. You had never felt so loved unconditionally and wholly but by Yeosang, a dog, despite that you were a cat. An alley cat at that. In that moment though, you truly saw him as a big, strong working dog, easily surrounding the little stray cat that had been taken into his home. But instead of growling and scaring the little kitty, the big pup had laid down and wrapped around the small cat, protecting and loving her.
"Your tongue's rough." He huffed in amusement, only pulling back a second before his mouth sealed back to yours, tongue wrapping around your smaller one. You whimpered and mewled, head growing hazy from his kisses. Your back arched as his mouth left yours, trailing to your jaw and down to your neck. As he unbuttoned your dress, he licked and sucked over the skin revealed, tugging at the fabric to get it over your breasts so he could shuck it off. The dress floated down to the floor behind him, settling on the floor with a flutter. Once you were down to your undergarments, nothing more than a thin chemise and light set of stays, he sat up to kneel over you. He had luckily taken his uniform jacket off earlier, because in his haste to remove his shirt, two of the buttons flew off, clattering against the wood floor. You had seen him shirtless before, but never had the chance to touch, so you had to take the chance. Yeosang chuckled, his ears drooping a bit in pleasure as your small, warm hands ran over the smooth skin of his chest and stomach. He really was physical perfection. Biting your lip, your hands went to work on his belt and he took the chance to untie your stays. You felt a little more air flow easier threw your lungs as he pulled the garment off and you squeaked as he moved. Quickly, so quickly, he pulled your chemise off as well, leaving you bare, and essentially picked you up and tossed you back up the bed. As you tried to get your bearings, you didn’t notice him resting his stomach on the bed.
“Y-Yeosang!” Your nails dug fast into the sheets as his long tongue lapped a path through your slit. A growl rumbled from him and his hands held your thighs apart so he could slide his tongue into your cunt, the feeling made you twitch and shiver. He was breathing so hard through his nose you felt the puffs of air against your clit, tail flicking against the bed. Something was rising fast in your tummy, and he could feel your gummy walls clench unevenly around his tongue. The dog’s nose bumped your clit once more and you nearly squealed as your orgasm hit. He eagerly drank up the slick that flowed from you, licking his chops as he pulled away once you were done. He smiled down at you, softly, admiring your red face and heaving chest. Before you could really come to reality, he had flipped you onto your stomach. There was some rustling, and you had been too busy trying to register what had just happened, the next thing you knew, his bare body was laying over yours. He didn't rest down too hard, he was bigger and heavier, but you shivered at his skin on yours, hard chest to your back. You shivered as his hard cock nestled in the crook your ass.
"Big as my fuckin' arm…" You huffed to yourself and he chuckled, biting his lip, chest rumbling.
"Think your sweet cunt can take it?" His deep voice right in your ear was in itself orgasmic and your core was rapidly heating. You were pretty sure you hadn't had a heat in so long from being in poor health, and so it seemed your system needed to compensate. Your whole body was rapidly rising in temperature, he could tell from where his skin pressed to yours. The delightful scent of vanilla and lavender you normally exuded was growing stronger, the aroma filling his lungs. You whimpered when his strong arm wrapped under your stomach, lifting your hips into the air as he grinded his cock against your weeping folds. He wasn't normally one for crass language like you, but he was spewing sweet filth as you tried to formulate a thought to respond. The heat was nearly growing painful, and even though he was huge and you inexperienced, you needed him inside.
"Such a pretty pussy, kitten. Bet it's leaking so much to let me in. Take my cock and my knot." He groaned when he ran his thumb up your slit, gathering your slick that was nearly dripping from your core.
"Want me to ruin your cunt, love? Split you open, fuck you silly, then pump you full. I wonder if a kitty can even get pregnant by a dog. Guess we'll find out…" It seemed your heat was sending him into a semi-rut, his mind was full of nothing but sinking into you and fucking you into the mattress. He had honestly wanted to for weeks but had tried to keep the thoughts away.
"Y-Yeosang! Please!" You mewled, nails digging into his pillow, tail flailing back and forth. You yowled when his strong hand grabbed your tail at the base, wrapping some of the length around his fist, tugging on it. He smirked as your cunt let out another glob of slick from the sensation, your rapid purr growing in strength.
"Not just my wife, but my mate. Want your womb to hold my pups." The male chuckled, adjusting to press the fat head of his leaking cock against your core. You shivered, a bit worried he was too big, but you needed him. And his knot.
"Hold on, kitten." He licked his lips to prevent the saliva that had gathered from leaking, holding the base of your tail and hip for leverage. Your breath hitched, cunt spasming as he started to press in. He watched in delight as your folds eagerly stretched and sucked his cock in, even more slick spilling out, leaving a puddle on his bed. The base of his cock had already started to swell a bit, but he wasn't going to knot you so soon. No, he was going to have his way with you for a good long while first.
"Fuck!" You squealed, claws puncturing his bedding, teeth digging into the pillow. His hot cock was searing through you, the burn of the stretch just fueling the fire in your womb further. Tears sprung to your eyes and you gasped for air, intense waves of pleasure crashing over you, sending you to climax before he was even halfway in. Yeosang felt your gummy walls clench and pulse around him, and he threw his head back, tongue lolling out of his mouth as he groaned. The grip on your tail tightened just a bit and you keened at his slow ease, but his restraint was wavering.
"J-just do it, 'Sang~" You mewled, sparks of arousal shooting up your spine from your tail. He didn't hesitate with your consent, and he snapped his hips to bury the last few inches into your hot vice. Your vision spotted as the head of his dick pressed at your womb, hips pressed to your backside. He sat there for a bit, letting you get used to the searing pleasure, grinding down into you every so often. As he heard your breathing even out a bit more, you let out a big shudder and he released your tail, falling forward so his hands caught him on the bed. The dog let out a small whimper, furrowing his brow. A clawed hand went to your sternum and he helped you hold yourself up on your arms so your back was parallel to his chest. His nose ran over your shoulder, right new to your neck and your body tensed in preparation, your cunt tightening even further. With a little lick, his teeth dug into your skin, and he sucked and licked as he bit, sealing you as his mate. Your eyes rolled back into your head, most of your strength leaving you as you came again, spurts of slick drenching his groin and balls. Pulling back from the mark, he licked the blood away and you fell onto your chest, using what little strength you had left to grip the already torn sheets.
"Ready?" He didn't wait for your response, slowly puling his hips back, cock halfway in, then fucked back into you. You yelped, his rapid and hard pace was immediate, no build up, and your brain ended up as fucked as your cunt. You were babbling and mewling, tail thrashing before he gripped it once more, holding your hips still as his battered against your ass. His free hand snaked down to your stomach, and he groaned at the shallow bulge that would form each time he buried to the hilt, your tiny body straining to take him. You bit the pillow again, using it to muffle your scream as he plowed through another one of your orgasms. His thrusts grew shallower, burying deep each time and fucking back in just by an inch, hard and grinding. Your eyes crossed when the base of your core started to burn once more, pussy searing as his knot started to swell. He whimpered between grunts and growls, head thrown back, sweat slick black strands tickling his upper back.
"I'm going to breed you, kitten. Fill you with my seed till you have my pups. Even if it takes all night." He groaned as your cunt fluttered once more and he gave one more hard thrust, letting his knot swell. You gasped and heaved at the feeling; he hadn't even begun to cum yet. When the hot spurts started to fill you, flooding your weeping womb, you nearly passed out. The sticky fluid dowsed the fire that your body had set and his hips jolted with each squirt, pressing as deep as he could. As the waves of his orgasm faded, he let your tail go, falling forward once more, heaving for breath himself. You were breathing heavily, but otherwise quiet and he glanced down to look at your face. You were still conscious, barely, eyes staring blankly at the wall, tears drying on your cheek and drool had left a dark spot under your mouth. Gently, so much so compared to his rough fucking, he pet your hair, pulling a few strands away from your sweaty brow.
"I love you, (Y/N)." He whispered and he noticed your lips quirk gently into a small smile.
"Love you too~"
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notquitecanon · 1 year ago
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Insufferably Admirable // Astarion x Reader
Summary: After a restful day turns into a bloody night, your unspoken yet painfully obvious dedication to Astarion has put you in what should be a harder choice. Once Astarion realizes just how far you'd go for him, he has to begin to confront the feelings and realizations he's been ignoring for a while. OR that time You figured out the most effective way to heal a vampire and Astarion got emotional about it
Set at the end of Act 1, but not quite act two. Pre-confession but it's obvious they have some sort of feelings for each other
TW: canon typical violence, blood & blood drinking(obvi this is an Astarion fic), no use of Tav or (Y/N), one use of technical self harm (c*tting) but not in a self mutilation way??, mentions of manipulation obvi, reader might be a little too willing to help (totally not be projecting what???)
this is my first time writing anything for Astarion after hyper fixating on him for a month so please be gentle. I know it's a bit all over the place. (yes I could have completely left out the first half, but there isn't much actual dialogue in the second half and I like to put this guy in situations)
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"Remind me again why you insisted on coming with me? I figured you’d be ripe for a day to lay around camp and let us do all the heavy lifting." You grumbled, scanning the crowded streets for a merchant. The goal was simple: get to the nearest village, sell off the extra weight, use the gold to stock the necessary supplies, and whatever the gold couldn’t buy… well, acquire it by any means necessary. No matter your path, through the shadows or the Underdark, you'd need to be prepared.
Gale had gone to pilfer for useful scrolls and maybe an enchanted item to snack on. Lae’zel and Shadowheart to a blacksmith for specialty arrows, useful armor, and any other weapons that caught their eyes. Karlach had carried the two trunks and barrel of items you had collected from your adventure thus far, finding you a wheelbarrow before heading back to camp to help Wyll with his preparations. Halsin… had taken his wild form and disappeared into the forest. Originally, you had intended to do your tasks alone, until- 
"My dear, I’m always ripe for a lay." Astarion twisted your words with a smirk, easily dodging the hand that reached to swat his chest. With a short laugh, he answered your question, his theatrics only increasing to more you argued, "To begin with, Someone- my fabulous self- had to make sure you didn’t get the whole group wrapped up in another laundry list of side quests- who knows what trouble you could have found if you were left all by your lonesome? A gnoll den? A kraken in the pond?  an old woman’s wagon with a broken wheel? a kitten up a tree? An orphanage with a leaky roof? Another cult for us to dismantle? Another temple to drop on me? Where would it end? You’re incapable of turning people away, it’s one of your insufferably admirable qualities."
"It’s called being kind, you dramatic elf." You grumbled, not prepared for the in depth analysis of your character. Trying not to focus so much on the fact he’d called something about you admirable.
"Second, knowing you, you’d sell all this off and still manage to come back to camp with them full. Honestly, pet, how have you managed to collect this much junk? You don’t even have a bag of holding." Astarion scoffed, using a single pale finger to peek under the lid of the barrel. It was just barely containing the countless daggers, goblin bows, pairs of leather armors, and dusty sandals. Your cheeks burned hot- maybe you had a habit of being overzealous in how eagerly you pilfered through all the crates you came across, checking bodies for anything valuable, and demanding the vampire to pick every locked chest the party uncovered. Hells only knew the thrill you got when you would find a buried chest.
"You never know when you might need something!" You reasoned, but swatted him away to hastily shut the barrel before the contents could spill out. It had taken you the better part of the night to pack it full of all the things your companions had convinced you to get rid of. The pale elf rolled his eyes, brushing past you so gracefully you didn’t feel his fingers in your pocket. 
"Really, my sweet? When, pray tell, might we need the collection of rusty necklaces you’ve amassed." Astarion held the bronze and silver necklaces up to the light, the red and blue stones sparkling despite the rust. His voice always like velvet, ruby eyes alight with teasing, "Far be it from me to criminalize accessorizing, but that darling neck of yours is tempting enough already." 
"Astarion!" You cringed, hearing your voice almost whine. Damn him for having that effect, so you cleared your throat as you snatched the jewelry back, "They are useful when we can sell them for gold." 
Astarion, having gotten the reaction he wanted, let you shove the necklaces back in a pocket before glaring at him, though it didn’t hold much actual malice, "Well, come on then, let’s sell the sandals for all the riches the village has to offer us." 
An afternoon later, you were smiling smugly as you watched Astarion grumble. Between all the goods and six different merchants, you were leaving with an additional 9,000 in gold, not to mention the additional 3,000 Astarion had managed to pickpocket while you bartered, and the items the two of you had managed to swipe. You felt particularly vindicated as he complained about the weight of the coins in his pack. 
"I’ll buy you something pretty in Baldur’s Gate." You cooed teasingly, to ‘appease’ him. Astarion spared you a deadpan glance before standing to leave, only making you giggle all the more, "Let’s get back to camp."
Astarion caught your eyes once more, scowl softening out at the sight of your bright smile. He was just about to say something sickeningly sweet and perhaps more than a touch vulgar when his eyes flitted up to something, pointed ears twitching at something you couldn’t quite hear. Until you could. 
The door of the jeweler you had swindled burst open, a strangled voice shrieking, "THIEVES! SOMEONE CATCH THEM!" 
Astarion must have been rubbing off on you, because for a moment you tried to feign confusion, looking around for the ‘culprits’ as if the dwarf wasn’t pointing directly at you.  Not that it did much good as several passerbys began to circle around the two of you. 
"Everyone’s so touchy about their personal belongings these days." The rogue scoffed.  Astarion grabbed your wrist and tugged you to him, so that your back was pressed to his and no one could sneak up on you. In his other hand, a dagger had already appeared. 
You sighed in defeat, taking your bow off your back, "No killing." 
"No promises." 
Compared to the goblin camp or fighting through the githyanki creche, disarming and incapacitating untrained townspeople and barely trained guards  was barely a warm up. Still, Astarion never left your side, an increasingly common occurrence when you found yourself in tight situations. Together, it didn’t take long to put distance between yourselves and your attackers, managing to get far enough to escape to the fight. Deflecting one last blow as the two of you passed by an open tavern, you incapacitated a rather pitiful guard with a blunt thunk from the pommel of your dagger. Taking one relieved breath, you tried not to focus too much of the trail of bleeding, unconscious bodies you and the rogue had left behind in your escape attempt. 
"Best we stick to the shadows before we attract more attention." Astarion mused with a cruel smirk, grabbing your sleeve and using it to wipe the blood off the corner of his mouth, his fangs glinting in the afternoon sun. The rogue only chuckled at your curses, giving some inane quip about the crime of dirtying his ensemble and how blood someone always looked better on you, "Now, believe what I said about you finding trouble? Back to camp before you find more." 
Before you could wrench your arm back or remind him that he was the only who got caught stealing, he pulled you off the main road into the alley adjacent- unaware of the attention that had already been attracted from inside the tavern. 
____
Ambushed in the night.  
A whole hunting party of Gur hunters. Willing to purge your party as they slept. 
And they were calling Astarion the monster. Fortunately, Scratch was an excellent guard dog. Waking the entire camp when the hunters tried to creep where you slept. Just as fortunately, there wasn’t a soul in camp that didn’t sleep without at least a dagger under their pillow. 
Your camp had become a bloodbath in the dim glow of the campfire. You had used the book you had fallen asleep reading as an improvised weapon, throwing it so hard it broke the first hunter’s nose. Lae’zel was single handedly mowing through three hunter with her long sword. Spells and incantations sent flashes of light from Gale and Shadowheart’s part of camp, and fire and brimstone lit up Karlach’s. There was yelling and cursing echoing in the cool night air, orders to take the vampire spawn alive and to kill the rest. 
And Astarion? Their target? 
He was where he always was during a fight these days. Right beside you, like a pale, snarky shadow. He had been the one to press your sword into your hand so you’d have more than just your dagger.  With him, you slashed and sliced anything that came near. Until the bastard appeared out of no where, squeezing in between you and the rogue. You would have applauded (more likely cursed) the near perfect use of an invisibility charm- had it not been for the poison-dipped stake raised against Astarion. 
This hunter was different, you could see it in his eyes. They were somehow devoid of life and yet also simmering with rage as they trained on your snow haired companion. This hunter didn’t plan to take Astarion back to Baldur’s Gate, not alive at least. He didn’t care about whatever orders they had, or what consequences would come for disobeying them. He only cared about driving the stake into Astarion’s heart. 
Astarion’s eyes went wide as well at the sight of the stake, realizing as you did that this was no longer just a kidnapping, it would be an assassination. Your thundering heart stuttered, blood going supernova in your veins before freezing to ice as your mind whirled through a hundred different possibilities and also went blank. Your own opponent, along with years of learned strategy, were instantly forgotten as blind instinct took over.  Every ounce of strength and speed you had was directed into a desperate lunge. In your desperation, you really weren’t sure if your goal was to tackle the hunter, grab his arm, tackle Astarion, or maybe even take the stake to your chest instead- you decided to choose along the way, as long as it ended with Astarion alive(ish) and well.
You managed to close the distance, one hand planted firmly to Astarion’s chest shoving him further and the other clamping onto the leather of the hunter’s gauntlet, the same arm poising the stake. With a feral sounding shriek, you pushed his arm so his aim was off. At the same time, your original opponent, frustrated at being forgotten, cast a wave of thunder that sent all three of you flying. 
Astarion, the Gur, and you flew backwards a good fifteen feet, the thunder shaking you to your very bones and splitting your ears. The breath was knocked out of you so hard you thought your poor lungs might collapse and you weren’t able to tell if it was the spell or the impact that did it. You didn’t have time to contemplate, the moment you were able, you scrambled onto your knees. With the same feral tenacity from earlier, you grabbed the hunter by the front of his leather armor, nails leaving scarily deep tracks as you hauled him off your vampiric companion.  With your new opponent, you rolled both your bodies until you were on top of him, knee to his chest. Seeing the look in your eyes, the rage left his own, pure survival instinct taking over. You didn’t even feel the sting of the slicing blow across your shoulder, too consumed with a singular mission. It was Astarion’s dagger you had snatched from the ground on the way that delivered the quick death blow. Halsin, in bear form, had appeared out of the tree line and took care of your other thunderous hunter, taking a defensive position around you and Astarion with a goading roar. You expected to hear something from Astarion- a snarky comment about your lack of technique, a snide remark about his assailant, or even just a stream of petty curses- but he was silent. You turned back to him, only to have dread flood every cell in your body. 
Nothing else mattered anymore, not the fight, not your injuries, and especially not your forgotten original hunter. Halsin, in bear form, had appeared out of the tree line and took care of your other thunderous hunter, taking a defensive position around you and Astarion with a goading roar. You barely noticed.
The moment you’d disposed of Astarion’s assailant, you were scrambling back towards the rogue, who was laying all too still. At first, you hesitated to even touch him as if that might make it worse. You called his name once, and then again when you were able to gingerly lay hands on him- one hand to his chest and the other pushing some curls out of his eyes. The stake, what should have been an almost useless weapon against anyone else, was still buried in his chest, piercing his favorite frilled collar shirt. 
"No… Astarion-" Your voice was breaking, thick and raw. Your eyes couldn’t rip away from the stake, protruding from his chest, the poison staining the white linen of his shirt a sickly green. The hand on his chest balled into a fist, bunching the unsoiled fabric in your grip, but something caught your attention. The tiniest candle light of hope in the rapidly encroaching darkness of grief. 
Your hand was directly over his undead heart. Anytime you touched him, your hand always fell directly over his heart. When you teasingly swatted at his chest, when you needed to steady yourself against him, when you needed to catch you balance… you always sought out his heart- subconsciously, instinctually, always his heart. Your hand was over his heart, and that gods-damned stake was four inches to the right. A tiny light, but a light none the less. It was then you realized you were calling the wrong name. 
"SHADOWHEART!" 
None of your companions had ever heard your voice that desperate, that scared.  All their heads snapped to where they had last seen you, finding Astarion pulled to your chest as you wrenched the stake out of the spawn. Astarion stirred only long enough the let our a gurgling shout that fizzled into a groan at the pain, and you could only hope he heard your soft apologies before you started barraging the vampire with healing cantrips. You didn’t stop until the words held no more magic, your supply of magic tapped for the night. 
The night air had changed, no longer fueled by adrenaline and challenge, now it was thick with urgency and fear. Each of your companions starting fighting towards the two of you, and when you locked watery eyes with Shadowheart you found her clearing her path with her spear. She had stopped using magic to fight, saving it all for Astarion.
"I’m coming! Hold on!" She promised as Karlach fell in beside her, battle axe taking over and sending two hunters to the grave together. Scratch and the owlbear cub had taking a lesson from Halsin and formed up beside you, growling into the night with hackles raised and feathers ruffled. 
"Just hold on, Astarion." You relayed to the vampire, who was completely limp against you his back to your chest, head tilted back against your shoulder which bared his neck to you, showing the fang marks on his pale skin. If you were capable of humor, you would have laughed about the reversal of roles, it was usually you baring your veins to him. But at the moment, his lack of movement wasn’t particularly amusing, so instead you laced his fingers through yours, hoping the warmth would bring him some comfort.  You pressed your cheek against his white curls, using your other hand to brandish his dagger just incase anyone got too close, and whispered all the reasons he was going to be okay. And that’s how you stayed until camp quietened and Shadowheart slid to a stop in front of you. 
___
Hours later, Shadowheart had used every healing and restoration spell she knew, not stopping even when she began to sway and sweat. Halsin had offered his magic and healing herbs, Karlach made sure there was always a bucket of hot water and a stack of clean rags available, and you hadn’t missed Gale trying to hide the scroll of reviving from you as he slipped it to Shadowheart.  Everyone in camp had been quick to gather all the healing potions, depositing them at the entrance of Astarion’s tent. Wyll and Lae’zell had slipped into the tree line to make sure the ambush was well and truly taken care of.  
And you? Their appointed ‘fearless’ leader? You had gone uncharacteristically silent. Your heart hadn’t left your throat, clenching painfully every time they jostled the rogue. Your hands were shaking too much, both from fear and white hot rage, to really help the two more experienced healers of the group. And the thought of being too far from Astarion made your stomach turn, so you kept rooted like a tree. But, you were grateful, truly, for all of them. Even if in the moment, all you could do was sit beside Astarion and pray to any God or Devil that would listen. You felt like a wild animal in a cage and a helpless child at the same time, your insides very well might vibrate out of the body if you didn’t melt into the soil first. 
The vampire needed all the help he could get. Aside from the occasional heartbreaking groan of pain or agony driven writhing, Astarion was eerily still. Barely breathing, less so than usual. His already pale, chilled skin had taken on a stony complexion, almost gray. And despite the inability to run a fever, there was a sheen of sweat over his face, clammy and uncomfortable. You hadn’t allowed them to undress him all the way, but part his shirt had been cut away to reveal the stab wound. It was deep, weeping Astarion’s already dark blood, and stretching out from the injury were black, twisting varicose veins that afforded you the cruel visual of the poison spreading. You wanted to take Gale’s revival scroll, use it on the hunter, and revoke the kindness of your mercifully quick death.  
"It’s like the effect of our magic is being dampened." Shadowheart huffed, hands glowing as she cast another restoration spell. The sweat on Astarion’s brow subsided briefly before returning. Halsin nodded beside her, taking a deep sniff of the stake. 
"His lack of blood isn’t moving the potions or antidote through his body fast enough, and this poison isn’t doing any favors." The druid thought aloud, taking some of his herbs to make a paste, "It doesn’t matter how many we pour down his throat if his body can’t absorb them." 
Shadowheart’s worried gaze flickered to you for a moment, before settling back on Halsin, "We’ll figure something out." 
You knew she was saying that more for your benefit, but you couldn’t bring yourself to acknowledge the pity. Instead, your grip tightened on Astarion’s hand as you swiped a clean rag to dab at his face. There was one more round of healing incantations and one more bottle of healing potion nursed into Astarion’s mouth. Your jaw twitched, watching most of it fall from the corner of his mouth. The same trail your own blood usually made after he fed. 
"I’m tapped." Shadowheart sighed almost ruefully, the glow around her flickering and then fading, falling back on her heels. Halsin stood, stooped slightly in the low ceiling of the tent, turning to you. 
"We’ve done everything we can do. We’ll try again with fresh minds in the morning. For now the best he, and we, can do is rest." His voice was calming, as if he thought you might start screaming again, but you just nodded, muttering something along the lines of thanks for trying, and not meeting either of their eyes as they ducked out of the tent.  
Since you had belligerently refused any of their magical attempts to heal your shoulder, Gale had done a rather pitiful job of wrapping it, taking some pointers from Karlach along the way. The wizard offered you a tight smile and a gentle hand on your uninjured shoulder before pressing a bottle of healing potion into your hand, "This one is for you. You’re no good to him if you bleed out all over the floor of his tent. We all know how Astarion feels about waste." 
"Yeah- fancy boy will be starving when he wakes up." Karlach’s chipper voice was still laced with a sting of concern. The tiefling didn’t touch you for fear of burning you, but did leave you with some roasted meat and a carafe of water from earlier in the night, "And it wouldn’t hurt for you to eat something either, soldier." 
Then you were left alone with your thoughts, hunched next to Astarion’s side, tired eyes examining the bottle after confirming the rise and fall of his chest. In your hand, the potion glowed slightly with the subtlest warmth, the scarlet liquid seeming to have a mind of its own as it swirled in glittering patterns behind the glass. Your injuries were meager, this little bottle of healing would have you as good as new. Bitterly, you flicked your eyes to the numerous empty potion bottles in the corner that had barely slowed Astarion’s bleeding. Your hand closed around it as you cast another look to the Vampire spawn beside you. His breaths were shaky and shallow even after Shadowheart and Halsin had exhausted every last bit of magic they'd had. Now in the quietest parts of the night, or maybe the darkest hours of the morning, your thoughts swirled, desperate for any sort of plan to latch onto. You had to do something. 
For you, Gale had said, No good to him if you bled out… He’d be starving, Karlach had been joking, His lack of blood wasn’t moving the potions enough to be effective, that had been Halsin’s hypothesis.
Blood. He needed blood.
The revelation was like being dropped into a freezing lake, determination razing the fearful lethargy out of your soul. With your teeth, you pried the cork out and downed the first circular bottle, the overly sweet taste a stark contrast to the somber mood of the night. For good measure, you did the same with a potion of superior healing and two bottles of general poison antidote, slamming them down so fast you had to ignore the churning in your stomach. You’d loot twenty more goblin caves to make up for the dent in supplies if you had to, in that moment you just didn’t care. You waited a moment, begging the powers that be for your ragtag plan to work, not so patiently watching the bruises on your wrist until they started to fade.
You felt it, the moment that you had been completely healed and there was no where else for that magic to go. And then, you wrapped your arms under Astarion’s, heaving him against your chest. You bared your neck, letting gravity gently swing Astarion's nose to meet your pulse point, his silvery lashes tickling your jaw. He stirred slightly, groaning at the movement, pressing himself into your warmth before stilling again. Was he too far gone to realize what was being offered? 
Realizing you’d need to play into his vampiric insticts, you huffed, shattering one of the empty vials against a stone, struggling to do so and keep his deadweight in place. Taking a shard, it wasn’t hesitation but a moment of stilling your shaking hand before you pressed a shallow cut to your neck, right above where his lips rested.
You hissed at the haphazard sting, not as gentle as the pinprick of his fangs were in the night, feeling the blood instantly pool at the seam, a single red ribbon dripping before the potion healed the scratch, "C’mon, Astarion-" 
The moment his name left your lips, or maybe it was the moment a drop of your blood hit his, regardless you could feel his instinct, that sanguine hunger, take over. The soft lips at your neck were replaced with dagger sharp fangs digging into where the small cut had been. The sound you let out was somewhere between a gasp of pain and sob of relief as you barred him against yourself, fists clutching into the back of his shirt like it would keep both of you rooted to each other. Somewhere, in the back on your mind, you thought about the irony of the position, being so afraid to let him slip away, like a rabbit latching onto a snake for fear of the serpent starving. Even if it meant being consumed. 
In that moment, you were so relieved he’d started feeding that you didn’t care that his fangs dug in deeper than they ever had before, much more animalistic than his usual polite nibble. You didn’t dare flinch or wince, in case that might break the spell. Instead, you focussed keeping the both of you upright, one of your arms wrapped under his own, your fingers splayed across his ribs, and your other hand cupping the nape of his neck. The angle had his silvery curls dusting your fingertips and your thumb caressing the sharpest part of his jaw. Never had you been so happy to feel that throbbing numbness in your neck. Astarion’s chin prodded further into your neck, deepening the hold he had, and with his own shaky breath, he swallowed the first mouthful of your blood. 
The hand at his ribs clenched, pulling him impossibly closer and twisting his shirt into your grip again as your pulse began to speed up. The increase of your heart rate only seemed to encourage the vampire, teeth sinking ever deeper to draw more blood flow. Clenching your jaw, you forced your muscles not to tense, it would only make it hurt more. This mouthful was quicker, Astarion seemed to be actively drawing it out of you instead of just waiting for it. He swallowed again, gaining the strength to snake his arms around you. It wasn’t a strong hold at first, but one arm snaked around your waist while the other cradled the back of your head, those long fingers finding their usual place in the locks of your hair. You couldn’t help the short laugh that escaped, relishing the cool touch. Your voice stoked another fire in him, provoking another instinct, your blood provided the strength for his grip to harden, becoming more cage like. As if he needed to worry about you trying to escape. 
He swallowed again, and the numbness spread, not just in your neck but into your cheeks and across your chest. Blood was racing, coursing through you and into him, and with it all the magic of the healing potions. You could feel him getting his legs underneath him, untangling himself from you. At the same time, it was getting harder to hold your arm up, the numbness had reached your fingertips leaving them fumbling at his curls before falling to his shoulder. Another long drink and you found your eyes starting to flutter, everything was starting to feel cold as a shiver shook your body. Astarion, against two centuries of vampiric instinct, started to pull back, and you didn’t stop him, but didn’t let him go far either. He was mostly supporting himself now, which was a relief because a fair bit of focus was freshly delegated to preventing yourself from swaying. 
"Take all you need, ’Stari-" You meant for your voice to be assuring and strong, but it came out breathy and slightly slurred. Astarion pulled away, the movement bringing you mostly out of your stupor. His ruby eyes were as sharp as ever once again, even if the shadows under his eyes were still too dark for your liking, and they stared into your own half lidded eyes. Other than the deep purple shadows, the ashen complex had started to even out, the sweat on his brow had faded away, and when you dropped your gaze, you noticed the twisting black veins were starting to recede and fade. Hells, you could get up and dance (very briefly before you passed out).
Even, with a foot in the grave, more dead than usual, and covered in both of your bloods he was unfairly beautiful. His eyes narrowed on your dopey smile, as if he your relief was a symptom of too much blood loss. If that was the effect of four swallows, just a little more would flush out the poison completely, "I can take it, love, just please let me help you." 
Astarion never considered himself to be someone that had to be coaxed into receiving a gift, and you were offering him one so sweetly, practically begging him. After 200 years of rats and spiders, you had put literal magic in your veins for him. Magic that was bringing him back from death to his usual state of undead. He could feel it bringing his strength back, allowing all the magic the cleric and druid had poured into him to finally take some affect. Your blood, his first thinking blood, was always delicious- sweet and metallic, a delicate blend of all the good tastes, something so intrinsically you. With the potions infused, though, if Astarion was to hazard guess what sunlight tasted like- this would be it. How could he refuse? 
Before he went back in, he placed a reverent kiss to the marks he had left in your neck, gingerly lapping at the wounds before sinking his fangs back into your tender flesh. This time, it wasn’t a gasp or sob, but a mewl, your frigid fingers once again digging into the flounced collar his shirt. If you both lived until morning, you were sure he’d gripe for hours about all the wrinkles you’d put in his favorite (only) shirt. Probably throw a proper fit about the stake hole.
Now, as the potions effects dwindled in your own body, you could properly feel the drain. The coldness crept up from your extremities but didn’t counteract the burn in your muscles, making it harder and harder to suppress the shivers. Your breathing was quick almost a pant, but you still felt like you weren't getting any oxygen. If you were thinking rationally, if you hadn’t gone through the brief grief of thinking you’d lost him, you would have realized you need to push him away, that you were approaching your limit. But you weren’t thinking rationally, no. You still were too busy grinning- as your hand had fallen from his collar, it grazed across the wound, now fully closed. Just a little more, you promised yourself. You felt him swallow more, he held himself up completely on his own allowing you to lean into him. 
Astarion was okay, more than just on the mend, he was alive and strong, the potions and magic were working, were the thoughts that were reverberating through your head as things started to feel farther away. Your desperation had melted away, leaving a grateful smile in its wake. It wasn’t completely on purpose, but you let Astarion take on more and more of your weight, barely aware of his fangs in your neck anymore, not quite hearing Scratch and the cub whining outside, the shivering even began to subside as it seemed to take too much energy. 
Earlier, you had drug him to you and held him against your chest almost crying. But, as more of your blood flowed through him, it had become juxtaposed. Astarion held you in place, leaning over you for the best angle at your neck. It was his arms that kept you from falling over, his firm hand that kept your head from lolling too far back. His bite became less fervent, his grip less cage like and more affectionate. His survival instincts started to give way to civility and charm. You barely noticed as he twisted himself so he could slowly, gently lay you down onto the bedroll that had moments ago been his sickbed. He laid you on your back, onto the generous stack of pillows he kept in his tent. He tangled his fingers into yours, just as you had done for him, his knees holding him in a predatory crawl over you, all without breaking from your neck. 
Barely registering the softness, it was the thud of your other hand against the floor that roused you, just a bit. It was also what drew Astarion’s attention, it took everything in him to withdraw his fangs. He gave each puncture would a diligent cleaning with his tongue before pulling away completely, lest he lose control and dive right back in. (Really, how could one person be that tempting?)
But, you had arguably saved his life, it’d be terribly impolite of him to kill you. When Astarion’s eyes met yours, your gaze was more than half lidded as you watched him- what little of your eyes he could see were glossy and fighting to stay focused, he could hear your heartbeat markedly fainter than he was comfortable with. 
You were watching him as intently as you could. In the dim lantern light of his tent, surrounded by potion bottles and bloody rags, Astarion was up and moving and breathing again. Revived and strong, his eyes practically glowing scarlet, and, if you really focussed, you could make out the tips of his ears becoming pink. Something that only happened when he was freshly well fed, nothing was left of his stab wound but the hole in his shirt, the frayed edges dyed from the poison and his blood. He could have looked like a angel, complete with the fire’s reflection creating a halo effect on his snowy curls, had it not been for the sheen of sticky blood drenching his chin and neck. Your blood- the blood that gave him enough strength to heal. How could you not smile? 
Astarion tried to come up with a snarky comment, but for once, nothing came to mind. Instead, he kept glancing between your intertwined fingers, glassy eyes, and that idiotic little smile. Your giddiness was beginning to unnerve him, had you been charmed or perhaps taken a hit to the head? With the parasite, he reached out briefly into your mind. His brow twitched when he was only met with waves of relief and gratitude, you were too tired for structured thought, but too relieved to give into the exhaustion. How could someone on the verge on exsanguination look so happy? And why in the nine hells did it seem to be directed towards his well being? 
The vampire was stricken, taking count of everything you’d truly done that night alone: fought beside him, tried to take the death blow in his place, comforted him, held his hand, cleaned him up, hadn’t let the others undress him anymore than necessary, stayed with him, circumvented his vampirism to find a way to heal him, and had genuinely tried to bleed yourself dry for him. Hell, you’d cut your own neck for him- not even metaphorically, but literally cut your throat for him. He could feel your warmth, your kindness and everything good about you settling into his very marrow. Something uncomfortably… gooey… stirred in his chest, something more and more worrying common as of late, when it came to you. Had his manipulation really worked so well? A feeling too close to sharp guilt gnawed at that warm gooey feeling. Was it really manipulation anymore? Gods, your morality was infecting him.  
“This is that Insufferabe admirability I was talking about ." He muttered into the tent, shaking his head as he watched your chest rise and fall, using his free hand tame some of the hair at your crown. It was then Astarion realized your eyes had slipped shut, your fingers, now just as cold as his, going limp against his. Weeks ago, he would have polished off the last of your blood and left you behind. But at present, he felt the sickening need to return even half the care you’d shown him. He’d have to dissect his emotions later. The rogue was glad the other companions had left supplies within arms reach, as it meant he could gather them without dropping your hand. 
"Ah, ah, ah," He called quietly, gently pulling you back to the real world, pleased to watch your scrunch your nose in the exertion of waking back up. Finally, that contented little smile on your face slipped into a frown, a protest against his interruption of your sleep. Astarion’s smile was almost apologetic as he helped you into a slightly more upright position, "Not quite yet, little love. It’s your turn. No sharing this time."
Another healing potion was pressed into your hand and opened for you, and you allowed Astarion to guide it to your lips, his pale hand guiding your own. This time, the warmth of the elixir was welcome, a comfort instead of a taunt, assurance instead of a plea. Astarion carefully watched you as you swallowed the potion down, noting how you shivered less and a bit of color returned to your face. When the potion bottle was empty, he traded it for a small cup of water, keeping a guiding hand on the silver chalice he’d nicked from a tradesmen weeks ago until you had enough strength to hold it. 
Though still exhausted and dizzy, you had the energy to throw him an obstinate look. Astarion feigned a dramatic sigh but kept a firm enough grip on you that you couldn’t lay back down, "All this for me, yet you won’t even let me give you water?"
Ignoring how it made the dizziness worse, you rolled your eyes, taking a few sips of the water at a time even if it was mostly just so he’d let you lay back down. Astarion was in one piece and you were exhausted, you couldn’t bring yourself to think about anything else. But, Astarion seemed very pleased with himself, squeezing your hand once again, "Good girl." 
If you weren’t on the verge of blood loss, you could have choked on the water. Still, there was a part of you that whispered in relief he must be better if he’s back to teasing you. Astarion watched you take a few more sips before you sagged back against the pillows. Your eyes closed again, but your breathing was deeper now and the hand he held didn’t feel as cold. Outside, Scratch and the cub seemed appeased at your improvement as they stopped their pacing and whining to settle at the tent flap.
This time, he didn’t pull you back up, instead muttering to himself as he gently tilted your head to the side, exposing his bite marks. No wonder you seemed so tired, they were much messier than usual. Vicious, was the better word. Not only had his two fangs pierced your delicate skin, but his bottom canine teeth had punctured through as well, and he could see the outline of his other teeth in the deep bruising grooves they had left behind. In unfortunate addition, it seemed in the height of his blood lust he’d made more than one bite, leaving your neck littered in marks. Astarion grimaced, it really was more of a mauling, “Apologies, darling, I’m not typically so brutish. Forgive me?" 
Astarion pointedly ignored how his heart lifted at the slightest nod you gave him, instead focussing on cleaning you up as gently as possible. The potion had stopped the bleeding, and he watched as the wounds themselves were slowly closing. Each swipe of the rag was feather light, almost not even there. The elf noticed you give back into sleep, this time not bothering to wake you again. Instead he kept working and fussing until the only sign of his feeding was the stained neckline of your shirt. Then, he gently ran a clean, wet rag over your face and hands, taking away the evidence of your tears and worry. Finally, he threw a cloak over you like a blanket, to hopefully ward off the last of the shivers from the warmth he’d stolen from you. 
Not stolen, he reminded himself, though the truth somehow felt more dangerous, it was freely given to him. The vampire settled in, laying across from you, the only part of you he could touch was the hand still holding his. Though, already in your sleep you had shifted towards him. Astarion frowned, eyebrows furrowed, the more he came to know you, the more he knew that you would give and give and give. Truly, he knew that he didn’t need to manipulate you anymore, maybe he never needed to, and for the first time in centuries, he didn’t want to just keep taking. He didn’t want to bleed you dry and loot you for all you were worth. Astarion was surprised to find he wanted give something back to you. He just needed to figure out what.
The nights events caught up to him once again as his eyes closed, listening to the evermore familiar sound of your heartbeat as it became steadier and the even sounds of your breathing as you slept, letting it guide him towards meditation. 
Gods damn you and your insufferable admirability.
___
Part Two Here!
Again this was my first time writing for Astarion. I also tried to balance things into being equal parts in each persons perspective. I just love when two lovestruck idiots have to confront their own feelings about being in love.
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baby-tini · 3 months ago
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Day 1. 𝗣𝗠!𝗗𝗮𝘇𝗮𝗶 (𝗛𝘂𝗺𝗶𝗹𝗶𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻)- Dazai thrives off control, meaning your smart-mouth is a big no-no. Unluckily for you, he knows just how too break you down.
Day 2. 𝗕𝗮𝗷𝗶 (𝗙𝗮𝗰𝗲-𝘀𝗶𝘁𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴)- Having you laid out all pretty for him isn't enough anymore.
Day 3. 𝗖𝗵𝘂𝘂𝘆𝗮 (𝗖𝗵𝗼��𝗶𝗻𝗴)- Chuuya doesn't think the previous necklaces he's bought for you really show off who you belong too... so he gave you a better one.
Day 4. 𝗔𝗗𝗔!𝗗𝗮𝘇𝗮𝗶 (𝗗𝗮𝗰𝗿𝘆𝗽𝗵𝗶𝗹𝗶𝗮)- Dazai knows he has some fucked up desires, but it's not his fault you look so pretty when you cry.
Day 5. 𝗗𝗮𝗯𝗶 (𝗣𝘆𝗿𝗼𝗽𝗵𝗶𝗹𝗶𝗮)- Following an eruption of blue flames leads you into the hands of something worse then any fire.
Day 6. 𝗣𝗠!𝗗𝗮𝘇𝗮𝗶 (𝗘𝗿𝗼𝘁𝗶𝗰𝗶𝘇𝗲𝗱 𝗥𝗮𝗴𝗲)- You know it's stupid too make a Mafia Executive angry- especially when it's Dazai.. but you just can't help it.
Day 7. 𝗖𝗵𝘂𝘂𝘆𝗮 (𝗩𝗶𝗿𝗴𝗶𝗻𝗶𝘁𝘆)- He didn't understand why some men went after virgins specifically... until he found you that is.
Day 8. 𝗔𝗗𝗔!𝗗𝗮𝘇𝗮𝗶 (𝗣𝗼𝘄𝗲𝗿-𝗣𝗹𝗮𝘆)- He keeps you locked away, he tells you it's because he loves you.. but you know it's due to his own selfish desires, but.. would anyone believe you when you tell them a respected detective took you off the streets and kept you as his own?
Day 9. 𝗗𝗮𝗯𝗶 (𝗛𝘆𝗯𝗿𝗶𝘀𝘁𝗼𝗽𝗵𝗶𝗹𝗶𝗮)- You don't know what it is about dangerous men that leaves your brain in a foggy stupor, but you've stopped caring a long time ago, especially given your new fascination.
Day 10. 𝗣𝗠!𝗗𝗮𝘇𝗮𝗶 (𝗚𝘂𝗻𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘆)- He's found a new use for his beloved Desert Eagle.
Day 11. 𝗜𝘇𝗮𝗻𝗮 (𝗛𝗮𝘁𝗲 𝗦𝗲𝘅)- You've always gotten the attention of Shinichiro... and he's sick of it.
Day 12. 𝗠𝗮𝗻𝗶𝗹𝗮!𝗠𝗶𝗸𝗲𝘆 (𝗖𝗼𝗿𝗿𝘂𝗽𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻)- You were just the sweetest little thing when he found you on the streets of Manila... not anymore though.
Day 13. 𝗗𝗮𝘇𝗮𝗶/𝗦𝗵𝗶𝗯𝘂𝘀𝗮𝘄𝗮/𝗙𝘆𝗼𝗱𝗼𝗿 (𝗙𝗿𝗲𝗲 𝗨𝘀𝗲)- Dressed like an angel on the foggy streets of Yokohama has landed you in the hands of three demons.
Day 14. 𝗕𝗲𝗮𝘀𝘁!𝗗𝗮𝘇𝗮𝗶 (𝗩𝗶𝗿𝘁𝘂𝗮𝗹 𝗦𝗲𝘅)-Away on a business trip with no physical access to you, his cock sits uncomfortably hard in his boxers while he thinks about you... but then he remembers, he let you have a phone for a reason.
Day 15. 𝗕𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻!𝗠𝗶𝗸𝗲𝘆 (𝗣𝘂𝗯𝗹𝗶𝗰 𝗦𝗲𝘅) He's the boss, he runs shit in Bonten, he doesn't have a problem fucking his fingers into you as you make a mess on his hand, nobody else should have a problem with it either.
Day 16. 𝗣𝗠!𝗗𝗮𝘇𝗮𝗶/𝗖𝗵𝘂𝘂𝘆𝗮 (𝗦𝗼𝗺𝗻𝗼𝗽𝗵𝗶𝗹𝗶𝗮)- It's a shame they both work so late... but you've always been so helpful, even when you're sleeping.
Day 17. 𝗞𝗼𝗸𝗼 (𝗛𝗮𝗶𝗿-𝗣𝘂𝗹𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗴)- You hate when Koko takes you too get your hair done, because you know it'll be messed up later on that night.
Day 18. 𝗛𝗮𝗻𝗺𝗮 (𝗠𝗮𝘀𝗸 𝗞𝗶𝗻𝗸)- Men in masks drive you crazy... the appeal of not knowing who it is.
Day 19. 𝗗𝗮𝗯𝗶 (𝗙𝗶𝗹𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗴)- You've always been just the prettiest little thing in his eyes... he's positive it'll be the same-way on camera.
Day 20. 𝗠𝗶𝗸𝗲𝘆/𝗗𝗿𝗮𝗸𝗲𝗻 (𝗕𝗼𝗻𝗱𝗮𝗴𝗲)- You were always such a squirmy little thing, but Ken has found a new way too keep you still and Manjiro is all for it.
Day 21. 𝗣𝗠!𝗗𝗮𝘇𝗮𝗶 (𝗘𝗱𝗴𝗶𝗻𝗴)- He's always been a believer in the, "carrot and stick" philosophy but more so that the punishment should go hand-in-hand with the mistake.
Day 22. 𝗗𝗮𝘇𝗮𝗶/𝗙𝘆𝗼𝗱𝗼𝗿 (𝗖𝗼𝗹𝗹𝗮𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴)- Dazai has stated that they were two sides of the same coin, so it's not a huge surprise when they develop an interest in the same pet.
Day 23. 𝗕𝗮𝗷𝗶 (𝗠𝗮𝗿𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗴)- The eyes of other men undressing you leaves him in feral jealousy.
Day 24. 𝗕𝗲𝗮𝘀𝘁!𝗗𝗮𝘇𝗮𝗶 (𝗣𝗲𝘁-𝗣𝗹𝗮𝘆)- He got you a custom made collar... the least you could do is play the part for him.
Day 25. 𝗖𝗵𝘂𝘂𝘆𝗮 (𝗦𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗻𝗴𝗲𝗿)- You didn't know who he was, but those pretty sapphire eyes led you into his bed... never too be seen again.
Day 26. 𝗗𝗮𝘇𝗮𝗶/𝗖𝗵𝘂𝘂𝘆𝗮 (𝗗𝗣)- Blended days and blurry faces leaves you panting under the two men you've always admired.
Day 27. 𝗞𝗮𝗻𝘁𝗼!𝗠𝗶𝗸𝗲𝘆 (𝗣𝗿𝗮𝗶𝘀𝗲 𝗞𝗶𝗻𝗸)- He's always so mean and cold, taking a different route when you've been so good for him couldn't hurt.
Day 28. 𝗗𝗮𝗯𝗶 (𝗔𝗻𝗮𝗹)- Sure he loves your personality... but your ass is definitely a plus.
Day 29. 𝗔𝗗𝗔!𝗗𝗮𝘇𝗮𝗶/𝗕𝗲𝗮𝘀𝘁!𝗗𝗮𝘇𝗮𝗶 (𝗖𝗹𝗼𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴)- The man in your home felt... off. He looked like Dazai, sounded like Dazai and even acted like him... but he kissed you differently, fucked you differently and even tasted different. Maybe it was just the red blinking light in the corner that was messing with you.
Day 30. 𝗦𝗮𝗻𝘇𝘂 (𝗕𝗹𝗼𝗼𝗱 𝗣𝗹𝗮𝘆)- He has always liked red on you, it's flattering, but that lipstick isn't enough for him, he has a better idea.
Day 31. 𝗙𝘆𝗼𝗱𝗼𝗿 (𝗠𝗶𝗻𝗱-𝗙𝘂𝗰𝗸)- You've gotten a little too... mouthy for his taste, and lucky for you, he's found a way too quickly snuff out your newfound confidence.
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angelstate · 11 months ago
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Husband!Konig x Wife!Reader.
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Husband!Konig is a good lover, one who treats every situation with gentleness, he approaches you with a kind and understanding nature even if you are in the wrong because he would rather take the fault that let you be upset, he knows you don’t mean any harm, just sometimes it takes a bit to realize when you did something wrong or jumped into a conclusion that wasn’t true.
He is a kind and patient soul who wants only the best for you even if it means going against what everyone else deems acceptable, his heart knows no boundaries when it comes to making you happy and enjoy life the way you should.
Husband!Konig doubts himself a lot, he doesn’t think he’s good enough for you at times because of his job, and thinks that somehow his enemies will cause you harm in the long run even if you’re not associated with his work at all, it is something that makes him anxious but he manages his emotions to dedicate his energy to you.
Husband!Konig likes to buy you flowers every time he can, returning home from grocery shopping with a bouquet on his hands that he is already taking care of to put on a vase on the dining table, buying your favorite flower on his way home after a mission, he knows better than to show empty-handed, even if you only care about him and half the time crush the flowers with your eager hugs.
He likes the little details of love, the act of showing he has you in mind even in the smallest of ways because that means he isn’t just being superficial like most husbands who like their wives but do nothing to make them feel loved.
He thinks that should be a crime against the holiness of marriage, such a sacred union should be reserved for those who value their partner enough to go out of their way to make their life easier with simple things like doing house chores, buying their favorite snacks, and such.
Husband!Konig knows that his height brings certain problems most people didn’t know existed like the size of the bed you two sleep in, because no matter how much you searched on the internet, it seemed that every bed you buy is too small for the huge husband you have, or the amount of food that you have to regularly buy so the pantry isn’t empty because he raided every edible thing in the kitchen.
That said, it also has its perks, if you can’t reach something he is already grabbing it for you, cleaning the ceiling lamps or changing a light bulb has never been easier and his clothes are oversized just the way you like them.
you take advantage of his physic more than you should, telling him to carry you around in his arms, refusing to get up in the morning knowing he would throw you over his shoulder and force you to shower with him even if you showered the night before, you don’t even mind waking up early and showering with him but it’s fun to play hard to get with a man who has the ability to manhandle you as he wishes.
Husband!Konig is a soft-hearted person, he might seem intimidating on the outside but he is a man connected with his emotional side, not afraid to cry in front of you or vocalize when he’s upset or the reason behind his feelings, he knows that is unhealthy to keep emotions bottled up because they can cause resentment and he doesn’t want that for the two of you.
Husband!Konig loves animals, especially cats because of their soft fur and independent nature, so when this fat orange male cat approached him in the streets and rubbed against his legs when he had gone out to take the trash was definitely a moment that filled him with joy, as he took it inside your home and showed it to you, stating now you had a pet.
Husband!Konig is a very energetic person, always doing something with his hands, an anxiousness that only goes away when he’s focusing on something that requires him to sit still, like braiding your hair, he doesn’t want to get distracted and accidentally hurt you by pulling your hair or braiding too tightly that causes you a headache, he's careful to the point it seems like his defusing a bomb.
Husband!Konig loves the mundanity of everyday life, he feels at ease when his days blur together because there’s a routine that doesn’t involve violence, and it's easy for him to fall deep into the cycle of living day by day with peace on his mind and the lack of panic attacks that once consumed his days.
Husband!Konig is an amazing person overall, he dedicates every bit of himself to being infatuated with you, feeling you in every way possible, and connecting with you with every aspect of life the two of you share, he knows his love sometimes is overwhelming but taking care of you brings a calmness on his life, knowing his doing something inherently good.
He takes care of you for his and your pleasure, he takes pride in knowing you’re happy and satisfied at a physical and emotional level because he doesn’t like to see you anxious, and doesn’t like when life begins to burden you.
seasonal depression seems to be his worst enemy during the winter, more so than the low temperatures that make his hands numb and cheeks hurt from the cold, he knows the lack of sunlight and the inability to go out makes you depressed, that as much as you value staying home you also like nature but the snow stops you from going out for too long, your immune system being a bit weak doesn’t help either.
But he manages, he buys you a lightbox to help with your depression, and yeah, he knows artificial sunlight isn’t the remedy to your sadness but it keeps you at more peace and he likes to at least try and bring comfort to your home the way he can even if it doesn’t replace the real thing.
Husband!Konig is the perfect partner, truly. and he wishes that he gets to love you and take care of you in every lifetime, wants to be by your side in every universe that exists out there because he knows he would never be truly happy if he isn’t with you.
(little reminder: i'm taking requests if you would like me to write about something specific xx)
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motions1ckness · 11 months ago
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“Girl Next Door”
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Julien Baker college!au
summary: you’re visiting your hometown from college and the new neighbor’s daughter is visiting too.
content: smut, f!reader, dom julien, overstimulation, straps, submissive reader, minor use of pet names
“Do you know if the coffee shop I always went to is still open?” You yelled down to your mom, who was bringing in the last of your luggage from the car.
“I think so, but it’s almost 4 honey. I also forgot to tell you about the new neighbors.” She trailed on as you made your way down the stairs to get your bag from her, “they’re across the street and they told me they also have a daughter coming back from college; you should say hi, she’s a music major,” your mom beamed. You took the bag from her and offered a weak smile.
Honestly, you hated introducing yourself and feeling forced to say ‘hi’ to people you barely know. So, hiding out from the new neighbors seemed easy enough. “Yeah if I see them,” you responded, making your way up the stairs and setting the final bag on the wooden vanity that’s been in your room since you were in the first grade. You gave yourself a look in the mirror before losing the scarf around your neck and grabbing your keys, “Alright I’m gonna head out, I’ll be back before 6 probably.” All you got back was a murmur. The new neighbors and their mysterious daughter were the last thing you wanted to think about as you finally shut the front door.
Directly after locking it, you saw her. She seemed to be getting her stuff from the back of her truck as the two of you stopped. It was quick, but you could feel her studying your body, then your lips, before darting to your eyes again. Heat scattered over your face, contrasting with the brisk weather. Her lips curved into a smirk as she continued getting her stuff from the back, and you resumed on your way.
The ride was loaded with second-guessing and arousal as you kept playing the moment in your head. And it kept playing as you pushed open the doors to the cafe, the nostalgic scent soothing your nerves. After placing your order, you claimed your favorite spot in high school and often spent hours cramping for a test the next day. In an attempt to control the racing thoughts about the neighbor's daughter, you mindlessly scrolled on your phone, trying to relieve yourself of this fascination. A subtle chime from the door whistled, commanding your attention to none other than her. Her eyes flickered to yours before ordering and then walking towards you. Your breath was caught in your throat as the girl you’ve been trying to get out of your head was directly in front of you.
“Mind if I joined you?” Her voice was warm, and before you could think you were nodding. She took the seat across from you, and you made a mental note of her toned arms and how good they’d look- “ I’m Julien, by the way.” You had exchanged names and noticed her thumping on the table with her tatted fingers. “I’ve heard a lot about you,” Julien stated, gaze fixed on you.
“You have? Like what?” You wanted to kick yourself for not thinking of a better response but blamed it on her boldness and your extreme attraction toward her.
“That there was a cute girl also visiting from college across the street. Had to see it for myself.” A familiar flush covered your cheeks as her eyes landed on your lips.
“I hope I live up to the expectation,” you responded meekly.
Julien smirked, tilting her head slightly, her gaze piercing, “You definitely do,” her comment made you more giddy than you’d like to admit, “I feel like our parents have been plotting our introduction for a while." Her dumb quip made you laugh, sounding more nervous than you wanted, but Julien didn’t mind.
She loved how flustered she made you.
“Since I’m kinda new to this area, would you mind showing me around?” she asked, moving her hand from the table to your arm. The action pushed all the tension to leave your body, breaking her eye contact to stare at her rose tattoo below her knuckles.
Flustered, you respond, Sure,” taking a sharp inhale of breath, “I can show you more than just that.” You said, just above a whisper.
A beat passed, Julien's lips parted slightly before standing and holding her hand out, “I hope you didn’t want that coffee.” she said, her voice sounding gravelly. Unable to form words, you took her calloused hand and rushed to your car.
The moment she closed her door her hands found your hair, hauling you towards her, her lips crashing into yours. A slight moan escapes your throat as you feel your core pooling with heat. Your hand falls on her neck, as her tongue runs against your teeth making you submit to her.
Julien pulled away slightly, panting, “Maybe we should just head back to mine.” One of her hands leaves your hair to hold your jaw, her thumb sitting on your lip. You softened to her touch, your fixated stare never wavering.
Her attention focused on your mouth, running her thumb across your bottom lip. You gave her a short hum in response, unable to form cohesive thoughts.
“I need you to use your words, hun,” she commanded, adding pressure to her movement. That seemed to finally push you out of a dream state and answer her, “Y-yeah let’s do that,” you swallowed, starting to head back.
The ride was short. You put on some mindless music and could feel Julien’s gaze burning through you. When you pulled into your driveway, both of you took note of the vacant parking spots left by her parents.
After getting out of the car, the two of you discreetly went to her parent’s house, worried your parents would look out the window and question you about the two of you sneaking around. Whilst entering, Julien eagerly took your hand, pulling you towards her room.
Julien shut the door behind you two, pushing you against it. Her cologne overwhelmed your senses, the tattoos, and strands of her dirty blonde hair falling in front of her face making you weak.
Julien started attacking your neck, leaving marks and small bites down to your collarbones. “Julien you’re so- fuck” you whined, tossing your head back, giving her better access.
Drawing back slightly, she found the neck of my shirt and rubbed the fabric between her fingers, “Can I?”
“Please” you breathed. Julien wasted no time getting your top onto the floor before grabbing your waist and attacking your chest. The sensation pulled a moan from you, feeling her soft lips leave scattered love bites across your body.
“How about we move to the bed,” she asked, glancing up at you with a contrasting innocent demeanor. You quickly nodded and followed her to the bed, where she stood over you, looking down at your beauty.
“Are you into straps or stuff like that?” She followed up, catching you a bit off guard by the reality of the situation setting in.
“Y-yeah I’m good with anything,” you affirm before kissing her again, Julien pulls away looking in one of her bags to pull out a strap. You knew if Julien was a guy you’d have trouble with it, but seeing what she brought made your jaw hang.
“You always carry that with you?” You joked but tried to figure out why she packed a sex toy with her while visiting her parent's new house.
She started to undress, starting with her shirt. “I told you,” peeling off her sports bra and exposing her bare chest, “My parents told me there was a cute girl next door.” Your vision glued to her as she stripped down, putting on the strap, not looking away from you either. “Couldn’t resist,” she admitted, walking back to stand between your legs.
Julien liked towering over you, how you beamed back at her, knowing she had full control over you. She leaned down, cupping your face, placing sloppy, desperate kissing over your mouth and jaw. Julien’s hands began on your shoulders, but quickly moved down to your clothed heat.
“Baby I don’t want to split you in two,” Julien said genuinely, tracing shapes into your hips .
“Break me,” you waiver. It was so easy for you to fall under her control. Julien smirked before pushing her lips into yours again, cupping your breast and squeezing your nipple. A broken moan escapes your lips, causing you to throw your head back.
“Can you take these off for me?" Pulling on the hem of your underwear, "It’ll be easier for both of us.” Julien breathed, her face flushed. Without wasting a second you stripped, leaving you both exposed.
Julien’s eyes scanned your body, biting her cheek, “Fuck baby, I need to be inside of you already, please,” she said before kissing you again, pushing you into her new sheets.
She went back to your chest, taking each nipple in the mouth and swirling it with her tongue before releasing it with a ‘pop’, then repeating the same motion with the other. Your back arched off the bed, eyebrows furrowing and jaw hung. She wasn’t even inside you yet and you were a writhing mess.
Julien pulled away from your body, causing you to yearn for her touch. She sat between your legs, adjusting her hips and pulling your leg over her shoulder. You felt the tip of the strap run against your folds, drawing a whine from you. Julien gradually pushed into you, giving you time to adjust to the size, before bottoming out. After a few seconds, she formed a slow pace, trying not to hurt you.
“Julien–fuck, m-more please,” you begged. Her hips didn’t falter as she picked up the pace, slamming into you. Sweat started to prickle to the sides of your forehead, spewing praises and moans with every thrust she hit into you.
Julien pressed her forehead into yours, looking down into your eyes. From the angle of the strap, every thrust would rub against her clit, causing her to whimper against the friction.
Your orgasm was close you felt yourself clenching around the plastic cock. Your breath hitched in your throat as you finally came, but Julien didn’t stop driving into you.
“Julien baby it’s–,” you squirmed under her, unable to keep your eyes open, feeling tears beginning to prickle in the corners from the brutality.
“You’re doing so good, take it,” she said, her breath faltering from the thrusts. You continued to whine from the overstimulation, unsure how much more you could take. Julien’s body jolted as she sat up, throwing her head back as pretty moans fell from her mouth. Her hips shuttered frantically and out of rhythm as her own orgasm grew close.
Tears were stammering down your eyes as she fucked you raw, whining out to her. Her rough hands grounded onto your hips. “Take it, baby, take it, just– fuck fuck fuck,” she swore out before one final shuddered thrust. The slight glow from the window highlighted the sweat glistening from her forehead and the maroon flush casting over her face as she came.
After she finished, Julien slowly pulled out of you; not wanting to cause any more discomfort. She let go of your body, contrasting with the Julien from a few seconds ago. Hovering over you, she gave you a delicate kiss. Pulling away, she noticed the amount of cum on your leg and headed to the bathroom, discarding the strap. Your body had calmed down from the rapid and rugged pace inflicted but you found yourself fixated with that side of Julien more than you’d like to admit.
She returned back with a towel. “For you. I can also grab you water,” she offered with an angelic expression like she didn’t fuck you relentlessly a few minutes earlier. You accepted the towel as you snuggled under the covers of her bed, her doing the same.
“Oh shit aren’t your parents gonna freak out that you’re not home?” Julien asked, not wanting you to be reported missing or have your mom knocking at the door.
You look at her, her doe eyes already fixed on you. You couldn't help but pull her in and kiss her. “I’ll text them I’m visiting the neighbors,” you whispered against her lips. “And we can get your car in the morning”
“Can we actually have coffee this time?” She asked.
“Yes.”
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