#desperate attempt at inner peace

[galactose-galaxy]

"I'm startin' ta realize theres no use runnin' anymore. I'l ne'er not be a monsta. I'll ne'er change th' past. But maybe I'll be soft 'nuff ta love."

[deunmiu-dessie]

a paralysis demon plays with you at night, this time you're finally awake to see it.

you're not sure how it started. just that one day it did.

you'd wake up with sticky inner thighs and ruined sheets; the familiar pulsing of your clit, begging for attention almost overwhelming, and your muscles ached as if you had run a marathon the day before. tentatively you'd dip your hand into your panties, nimble fingers finding the hood of your engorged clit, eyebrows pulling together at the almost painful feeling it brought; then they'd drift lower, immediately sinking into creamy, wetness that pooled from your entrance and smeared your labia.

this perverse ritual had become your waking nightmare, weeks upon weeks of waking up to ruined panties and an insatiable hunger that couldn't be sated alone. frustration and tears intertwine, as your lithe fingers desperately caress and coax your clit but to no avail. it'd leave you cranky most days and unapproachable the rest.

what the hell was happening? at first, you believed it to be mere wet dreams, lost in the recesses of your mind. but the inability to find release, even with your touch or the mechanical hum of a vibrator, defied all reason. your sanity teetered on the edge, the constant ache and unrelenting wetness between your thighs, the demands of university, and the grueling hours at the fast-paced coffee shop on campus only exacerbate your torment.

breathe; you had told yourself. you just needed a day to sleep, in order to get back into the groove of your usual hectic life. and so, you make the decision to abandon your responsibilities, forsaking work and classes, seeking solace within the confines of your bed.

but that day you saw it.

as the night grew later, you found yourself slipping in and out of consciousness, struggling to keep your eyes open, you clung to the last shreds of wakefulness, determined to finish the movie that had lured you in with its promises of thrills and chills. the laptop, perched on your chest, emitted a faint glow, casting eerie shadows across the room. but despite your best efforts, the battle was futile. with a heavy sigh, you surrendered, closing the laptop and setting it aside.

that should've been it, you should have gone to sleep and woken up the next morning bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, no longer raging and horny, stressed and tired— just your normal self. yet, as if possessed by an unseen force, your eyes snap open, jolting your mind from the peaceful slumber you had so eagerly embraced, but not your body.

the room was cloaked in darkness, save for the feeble glow of a night light by the door. the time couldn't have been later than two in the morning, leaving you with ample hours until you needed to start getting ready for the day…so why were you up?

grunting you attempt to reach across to your desk and grab your water bottle, your throat suddenly dry and scratchy. but you couldn't move. in fact, your whole body felt numb, as if you'd been submerged in an ice-cold lake. you could feel the hair on your arms standing on end, your heart thumping painfully in your ribcage, desperate to escape from your chest and out the window just above your bed. frantic, your eyes darted around your room, flitting over the darkened corners and further on before subconsciously gazing upwards. it gazed back at you.

it was inky black, as if a void had materialized on your ceiling. barren of any discernible features, a foreboding presence emanated from it, sending chills down your spine. its limbs, neck, and torso twisted unnaturally, giving it a grotesque and elongated appearance. tears welled up in your eyes upon witnessing it, and you attempted to scream, only to find your mouth was sealed as if stitched with needle and thread.

the creature descended from above with erratic movements, settling above your figure and menacingly bringing its face closer to yours. this couldn't be happening, it must be a dream and in a desperate attempt to escape, you tightly shut your eyes and began counting backward from ten, gasping for air with each haggard breath.

however, a phantom graze on your thigh startles your eyes open. the creature was still there, its taloned, inky black hand slowly trailing along your clammy skin. even without a face, you could feel its gaze upon you, sinister and scheming. swallowing thickly, goosebumps follow in the wake of its touch, like tiny flames igniting your skin.

and almost as if accustomed to its advances, your body ignites with a dizzying heat, pussy weeping and your clit throbbing eagerly, readily despite your heart skipping and restarting all in one second with fear. its touch is tantalizing and deliberate, momentarily vanishing underneath your oversized night-shirt before returning to the heat of your thighs, talons pricking your flesh.

the creature's game finally comes to an end as it finds your fattened clit, which eagerly presses against the fabric of your panties, craving any form of touch. its assault is steady but firm and the touch immediately sets you off. your body, needy from weeks of being unable to orgasm, finally reaches its limit. you can feel the knot tightening in your tummy, a sharp, zinging pain in your lower abdomen, and the tensing of your thighs.

however, just as you approach your climax, the creature abruptly stops, shifting its touch to your slick inner thighs, face pressing closer to yours, leering and mocking. without the constant stimulation, your orgasm subsides, leaving you with a throbbing ache in your hips, cunt drooling with your arousal profusely.

your eyebrows cinch together, tears staining your cheeks before you're hit with a realization. the constant feeling of never being satisfied and not being able to cum, was because of this…creature.

its pitch-black visage suddenly splits into a sinister grin, revealing rows of serrated teeth gleaming with viscid, thick saliva. its voice is otherwordly deep, it's guttural, and raspy; fingers returning deftly to your clit to rub circles. "do you remember now?"

[kaijuno]

"No piece of art has ever emotionally affected me the way this robot arm piece has. It's programmed to try to contain the hydraulic fluid that’s constantly leaking out and required to keep itself running...if too much escapes, it will die so it's desperately trying to pull it back to continue to fight for another day. Saddest part is they gave the robot the ability to do these 'happy dances' to spectators. When the project was first launched it danced around spending most of its time interacting with the crowd since it could quickly pull back the small spillage. Many years later... (as you see it now in the video) it looks tired and hopeless as there isn't enough time to dance anymore.. It now only has enough time to try to keep itself alive as the amount of leaked hydraulic fluid became unmanageable as the spill grew over time. Living its last days in a never-ending cycle between sustaining life and simultaneously bleeding out... (Figuratively and literally as its hydraulic fluid was purposefully made to look like it's actual blood).

"The robot arm finally ran out of hydraulic fluid in 2019, slowly came to a halt and died - And I am now tearing up over a friggin robot arm 😭 It was programmed to live out this fate and no matter what it did or how hard it tried, there was no escaping it. Spectators watched as it slowly bled out until the day that it ceased to move forever. Saying that 'this resonates' doesn't even do it justice imo. Created by Sun Yuan & Peng Yu, they named the piece, 'Can't Help Myself'. What a masterpiece. What a message."

Extended interpretations: the hydraulic fluid in relation to how we kill ourselves both mentally and physically for money just in an attempt to sustain life, how the system is set up for us to fail on purpose to essentially enslave us and to steal the best years of our lives to play the game that the richest people of the world have designed. How this robs us of our happiness, passion and our inner peace. How we are slowly drowning with more responsibilities, with more expected of us, less rewarding pay-offs and less free time to enjoy ourselves with as the years go by. How there's really no escaping the system and that we were destined at birth to follow a pretty specific path that was already laid out before us. How we can give and give and give and how easily we can be forgotten after we've gone.. How we are loved and respected when we are valuable, then one day we aren't any longer and we become a burden...and how our young, free-caring spirit gets stolen from us as we get churned out of the broken system that we are trapped inside of. Can also be seen to represent the human life cycle and the fact that none of us make it out of this world alive. But also can act as a reminder to allow yourself to heal, rest and love with all of your heart. That the endless chase for 'more' isn't necessary in finding your own inner happiness.”

[cactus-cuddler]

🅒🅞🅤🅡🅣🅢🅘🅓🅔

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x f!reader

Word count: 1,7 k

Plot: While reading in a park, you unexpectedly run into one familiar faces—Sam Wilson, your old high school friend, and his colleague, Bucky Barnes. Sam humorously pushing the two of you together. Despite Bucky’s awkwardness and Sam’s meddling, you find yourself drawn to Bucky’s genuine nature, leading to a sweet first date and the promise of more to come.

Author's note: sorry for my bad English

You’re at the park, trying to channel your inner bookworm by reading outside like those romantic novel characters who always seem so serene. The only available bench, however, is inconveniently located in front of a basketball court. At first, it’s peaceful—the court is empty, and the summer breeze is making you feel like this might just be the best idea you've ever had.

But then, the peace shatters as the distant sound of children’s laughter and shouts approaches. You sigh, deciding to stay put. They’re just kids, after all. At least, you hope so. Teenagers, you remind yourself, are a different story. They’re like wild animals—unpredictable, loud, and far too aware of the chaos they can cause. You were one not long ago; you know this all too well.

The court quickly fills with noisy kids, and then, two men join the fray. One is a tall, African American guy with a goatee and sunglasses, exuding confidence. The other is a muscular man with a vibranium arm—yes, vibranium—and a look that says he’d rather be anywhere else. Your book, once a portal to another world, now seems less interesting with these two towering figures before you, dressed in tank tops and basketball shorts like they just stepped out of a fitness magazine.

“Kids, keep it down! There’s a young lady trying to read over here!” the guy with the goatee shouts, pointing directly at you. You blush, sinking into your seat. Great. Now you’re not just a background character; you’re the center of attention. Getting up and leaving would only make things worse.

You lower your head, desperately trying to look absorbed in your book, but the words are just a blur now.

“Hi there, young lady!” The same guy calls out, strolling toward you like he owns the place. The other man, the one with the vibranium arm, follows reluctantly, looking like he’d prefer to melt into the ground. As they get closer, something clicks. You know that voice. It's Sam Wilson—the guy who used to talk to you in high school, the one who was always kind when no one else was.

“Sam?” you blurt out, closing your book and standing up with a smile.

“Hey, beautiful! What brings you here?” he asks, leaning in to kiss your cheeks like no time has passed.

“I live around here,” you reply, and he grins, launching into an explanation about how he and his friend, Bucky Barnes (yes, that Bucky Barnes), teach basketball to local kids.

“This is my buddy Bucky. I wish he’d stop flirting with my sister, though. You seem more his type,” Sam teases, nudging Bucky, who looks mortified.

“I don’t flirt with your sister,” Bucky grumbles, clearly frustrated.

“And what about that look you give her?” Sam presses, and Bucky, flustered, attempts to defend himself.

“It’s called a friendly expression.”

“You don’t know how to be friendly. Admit it, that’s your flirty look,” Sam insists.

“This one?” Bucky flashes a smile that could make hearts stop.

“Tell me if that’s not a flirty look,” Sam asks, turning his gaze to you.

“That’s definitely a flirty look. Very effective, by the way,” you add, earning a high-five from Sam while Bucky rolls his eyes skyward.

“Well, you should be happy if your friend likes your sister,” Bucky retorts.

“Except that friend tried to kill Captain America a couple of times,” Sam quips, and you decide—for your own sanity—to believe that’s a joke.

“You promised not to bring that up again!” Bucky snaps, clearly exasperated, but Sam just pats him on the shoulder.

“So, how about you go out with him?” Sam asks, turning back to you with a grin. “But if he tries anything, just call me. The Falcon will come to your rescue,” he adds with a wink.

You chuckle at Sam’s antics, but there’s something about Bucky that intrigues you. Maybe it’s the quiet strength in his eyes, or the way he’s trying so hard to maintain his cool around Sam’s teasing. Whatever it is, you feel a spark of curiosity.

“Well, if Bucky’s interested, I wouldn’t mind a coffee date,” you say, surprising yourself with your boldness. Bucky’s eyes widen slightly, and for a moment, he looks completely caught off guard.

Sam laughs, clapping Bucky on the back. “Looks like you’ve got yourself a date, Buck!”

Bucky glances at you, checking if you’re serious. You give him a reassuring smile, and he quickly looks away, cheeks tinged with the slightest blush.

"I'm sure you'll get along. He read “The Hobbit” as soon as it came out!" Sam exclaims, and you can't help but be a little impressed.

As the day winds down and the kids' mothers arrive to collect them, Sam invites you to join them for a drink at a nearby bar. You’re eager to catch up with Sam, who you’d lost touch with after high school. You share stories, laugh about old times, and it feels like no time has passed since you last hung out.

"Back in school, Sam was the only one who talked to me. He'd always pop up from nowhere, scare the daylights out of me, and drag me to whatever crazy thing he had planned, like alcoholic parties when he was always finished drunk and try to find me a boyfriend dating his friends" you say, laughing at the memories.

“That sounds annoying,” Bucky adds, and you nod in agreement, much to Sam’s mock offense.

"You seemed so close, why did you stop talking?" Bucky asks while sipping the draft beer he ordered.

"I joined the army, became Falcon and didn't have much time to keep friends anymore," Sam replies looking at the table with nostalgia caressing his face "but every time I feel nostalgic I look at our old photos," he finally says and you smile at him.

As the evening wraps up, you exchange numbers with Sam and Bucky. Just as you’re about to leave, Bucky catches you when Sam isn’t looking.

“So, tomorrow…” you start.

“Let’s meet at the park, if you want,” he suggests, his tone soft but sure. You smile at him, pleasantly surprised by his forwardness.

“I saw that!” Sam shouts, suddenly appearing out of nowhere. You both jump, just like back in high school.

“Damn it, Sam!” Bucky exclaims as Sam bursts into laughter.

The next afternoon, you arrive at the park dressed simply but with a hint of elegance. You didn't want to overdo it, but you wanted to make a good impression. Bucky is already there, playing basketball by himself. You watch him for a few moments—he's really good. When he notices you watching, he blushes slightly, clearly a bit embarrassed.

"Want to take some shots?" he asks, and you nod, knowing full well that you’re terrible at basketball. But Bucky is patient, guiding you through each shot, his hands steadying yours as he stands close behind you. His chest brushes against your back, and you can feel the warmth of his breath on your neck. It’s more than a little distracting, but somehow, you manage to score. He smiles, clapping his hands in approval, and you can't help but cheer.

“They’ll definitely sign me to the NBA by the end of the day, right?” you joke.

“Absolutely. A tall man in a suit will show up any second now,” he replies, chuckling. You both share a laugh, and he gives you a look that’s all kinds of sweet.

After you’re both too tired to keep playing, Bucky surprises you with a bouquet of flowers he’d hidden on the sidelines. You’re impressed, and silently thank yourself for always carrying deodorant and perfume. You offer him some deodorant, and he accepts without hesitation, even though it’s clearly for women.

“Perfume?” you ask, holding out the bottle, and he shakes his head, probably thinking it’s too “girly.” But you spray some on him anyway, and he starts coughing, his eyes narrowing at you.

“Has Sam rubbed off on you with his disregard for people’s choices?” he teases, and you giggle at his joke.

You walk side by side, talking about your lives. You find yourself increasingly fascinated by him. Compared to his epic saga, your life feels like a short story, but he listens intently, making you feel like every word you say matters.

“I had a great time. Thank you,” you say as you stand in front of your door, smiling up at him.

“Me too,” he replies, his voice soft. You lean in, leaving a gentle kiss on his cheek. You can see the blush creep up his face, and it only makes him more endearing. You're already thinking about your next date—this one went far better than you could have imagined.

Just as you’re about to say goodbye, Sam appears out of nowhere, grinning like a Cheshire cat.

“Guys, this date is missing all the essentials!” he exclaims, causing both you and Bucky to jump. Bucky groans, clearly exasperated.

“No candlelit dinner? No romantic phrases? Not even a kiss under the moon? Come on, guys! I’m trying to organize a wedding by the end of the summer. We don’t have time to take things slow,” he jokes, winking at you.

“Don’t listen to him. We can take our time and see each other again,” Bucky reassures you, his eyes locking with yours in a way that makes your heart flutter.

“You could’ve at least taken her to your place and shown her your amazing couch!” Sam insists, clearly not ready to let it go.

“You’ve never even been to my house! Stop talking about my couch,” Bucky grumbles, rolling his eyes. You can’t help but laugh at their banter—it’s clear these two have a friendship built on teasing and mutual respect.

"You two have another date tomorrow," Sam finally declares, pointing at both of you with a smug grin. Bucky waves goodbye, and as he turns to leave with Sam, you can't help but feel a warm sense of anticipation for what’s to come. Sam, of course, is already giving Bucky a barrage of unsolicited tips on how to "improve" the next date.

As they walk away, you stand there for a moment, still smiling, your heart light and your mind already replaying the best moments of the day. You’re looking forward to seeing Bucky again—he’s sweet, awkward in the most charming way, and there’s a connection between you that feels genuine, like something that could really grow.

And as much as you appreciate Sam’s meddling, you’re glad that Bucky wants to take things slow, to give you both the time to get to know each other. It’s refreshing and makes you even more excited for tomorrow.

As you head inside, you can still hear Sam's voice in the distance, likely teasing Bucky about that "flirty look" of his. You laugh to yourself, feeling grateful for the unexpected turn your day took. It’s funny how life works—what started as a quiet afternoon at the park with a book turned into something so much more.

[51voices]

Restless Desires

Kinkvember Day 5: In Heat

IVE's Kim Jiwon (Liz) x Gender Neutral reader

A delicate warmth brushes Liz's face, coaxing her out of sleep. She shifts beneath the sheets, feeling their softness around her like a lingering embrace. Her eyelids flutter open, and the blurred outlines of her room slowly sharpen as she blinks away the last dregs of sleep. Gentle light filters through the curtains, painting her bed in golden shades, almost as if she’s emerged into a new, tender world. With a slow breath, she senses the quiet hum of morning—the soft ticking of the clock, the faint rustle of the sheets, and the subtle, irresistible pull of something stirring within her.

Heat begins to stir low in her belly, a subtle spark that soon spreads like molten fire through her veins. Liz groans softly, a sound of half-hearted resistance mingled with surrender, as she tries to ignore the steady throb between her thighs. Not today, she thinks, rolling over and pulling the covers tighter around her, seeking comfort in her nest of warmth. But the sensation persists, creeping back with greater urgency, like an uninvited guest refusing to leave. Her skin tingles, her breaths quickening, as the fire inside her intensifies, insistent and unyielding—a force that refuses to be denied.

Frustration flickers in Liz's chest, a tiny ember amidst the growing blaze of her desire. She doesn’t want to start the day like this—needy, desperate for something only you can give her. The thought of your touch, the memory of your skin against hers, and the way a single look from you can ignite her longing make the ache impossible to ignore. Her fingers slide beneath the sheets, grazing over bare skin, tracing the contours of her body as if mapping uncharted territory. Even the lightest touch sends a ripple of pleasure through her—a shockwave that promises more but still isn’t enough. It’s like standing on the edge of a precipice, feeling the thrill of the fall without ever taking the leap.

This is ridiculous, she scolds herself, the inner voice a stern reminder amidst the clamoring of her body. It’s too early to feel so worked up. But as her fingers moved lower, skimming the sensitive skin of her inner thighs, a soft gasp escaped her lips. Her body hums, alive with desire, every nerve ending screaming for release. Yet no matter how hard she tries, the relief she craves is always just out of reach, a mirage dancing on the horizon, taunting her with its elusiveness.

After several minutes of futile attempts, Liz groans in frustration and throws the covers aside, the cool air of the room clashing with the heat burning inside her. She stomps into the bathroom and splashes cold water on her face, hoping the shock of it will douse the flames consuming her. But as she stares at her flushed reflection, droplets of water clinging to her cheeks, she knows the day has already been defined by the current of desire coursing through her. It’s a force too strong to be quelled by cold water or willpower. This part of her—a wild, untamed longing—yearns for connection, for the touch only you can provide.

Liz steps into the shower, letting the hot water stream over her skin, the heat a strange comfort that matches the fire pulsing beneath her surface. The steam wraps around her, blending with the tension she carries, momentarily giving her the illusion of release. But as the minutes pass, it becomes clear that no amount of scalding water can wash away the ache smoldering inside. Shutting off the stream, she wraps herself in a towel, droplets trailing like tiny reminders of her unrelieved need.

Accepting the truth that pulses within her, Liz acknowledges that the only way to find peace is to embrace the fire, to surrender to the longing that refuses to subside. Determined, she resolves to seek you out, knowing that only you hold the key to quenching the thirst burning inside her. After drying off, she pulls on simple undergarments, the fabric cool against her still-warm skin. She throws on an oversized sweater in an attempt to shield herself from the world, but the soft, loose fabric feels irritating against her heated body. Her shorts, normally a comfortable fit, now feel restrictive, a teasing reminder of the tension coiling within her. Even as she steps into the kitchen, Liz’s frustration has only deepened.

In the gentle calm of the kitchen, you sit at the table, fingers flying across your laptop keyboard. You looked focused, so absorbed in your work, and the sight sent a jolt through Liz, intensifying the throbbing between her legs. She bites her lip, momentarily stunned by the image of you deep in concentration, while her body vibrates with a need that makes it impossible to think of anything else.

“Morning,” she calls softly, attempting a casual tone.

You glance up, offering a warm smile. “Morning my love, how was your sleep?,” you reply before returning your focus to the screen, oblivious to the storm brewing within her.

With a hard gulp and her heart pounding as Liz crosses the room in quick strides. She leans down, planting a soft kiss on your lips, intending it as a brief touch of affection. But the instant her lips meet yours, the fire blazing inside her flares to life, overtaking any sense of restraint. The kiss deepens almost instinctively, her body pressing against yours, her fingers trembling as they cling to your shirt.

A soft, involuntary whimper escapes her, and she feels the tension in her own body shiver into the kiss. She needs this, needs you, the way a parched desert thirsts for rain. Every inch of her skin feels electrified, hyper-aware of your closeness, her pulse racing to match the quickening rhythm of her breath.

You pull back slightly, surprised, your eyes searching hers. “Baby? What—”

But she doesn’t let you finish. Driven by a hunger too strong to ignore, she grabs the front of your shirt with both hands and pulls you back, crashing her lips into yours with a fierce, undeniable need. Her fingers twist in the fabric, knuckles whitening as she clings to you, anchoring herself against the tidal wave of longing rising within her. The kiss is no longer gentle—it’s a desperate claim, a silent plea that her words can’t convey. Her mouth moves against yours insistently, each press of her lips more urgent than the last, her breath mingling with yours as she leans in, seeking every ounce of connection she can steal from this moment.

Her body seems to mold itself to yours, her hands slipping up to cradle the back of your neck, pulling you closer as though afraid of the slightest distance. Her pulse hammers in her veins, each beat fueling the fire burning brighter inside her, making it impossible to hold back. She pours every bit of her yearning into that kiss, the soft brush of her lips transforming into something raw and consuming, a desperation she can’t disguise or suppress.

When you finally break apart, both of you are breathless, and Liz’s face is flushed, her pupils wide with desire. She grins, heart pounding a wild rhythm that mirrors the frantic beat of her pulse. "Just... a good morning kiss," she teases, though her voice is husky, barely above a whisper, betraying the intensity of her desire.

You chuckle, shaking your head with a look of endearing exasperation. “Right... Maybe you should let me get back to work?”

Liz steps back, the fire inside her roaring even hotter at your words. She isn’t done—not even close. The kiss has only stoked the flames, and the tension in her body is becoming unbearable. She needs more, much more than a mere kiss.

As she busies herself preparing breakfast, Liz keeps glancing over at you. The sight of you working, which usually brings her comfort, now fills her with irritation. Is their work really that important? she wonders, feeling the heat twist in her stomach. Or are they just ignoring me? The thought fuels a potent mix of frustration and anticipation.

In a bold move, she leans over the counter, letting the sweater slip down her shoulder, exposing more skin than necessary. “Hey,” she calls, keeping her tone light and playful. “Do you think it’s normal to feel… really warm down there?”

You glance up, raising an eyebrow in curiosity. “Warm? Like a fever?”

Liz chuckles, her heart racing with the thrill of her own audacity. “No, not like that... just... you know, hot.” She lets the words hang in the air, heavy with implication.

Your expression is confused, and it only stokes her impatience. “Maybe it’s the weather,” you offer, looking back at your screen. “Should I open a window?”

Liz sighs, rolling her eyes as she turns back to the stove. Seriously? she thinks, already conjuring up a dozen ways to make you understand the heat she wants to share. The day is still young, and Liz is determined that the fire within her will not be doused by misunderstanding or indifference. Today, she’ll make sure you feel the heat, too.

After a cozy breakfast shared in the warm glow of morning light, Liz feels a familiar itch for a bit of fun. The soft clicks of your keyboard punctuate the quiet kitchen, your concentration clearly unbroken by her hints at distraction. She smiles to herself, deciding it’s time to turn things up a notch.

With a mischievous glint in her eye, Liz unlocked her phone and scrolled through her carefully curated playlist until she found one of your favorite songs—an upbeat, toe-tapping melody known to get even the most stoic souls moving. As the lively tune filled the kitchen, she swayed her hips, casting a playful glance over her shoulder in your direction.

“Come on, you love this song!” she teased, her voice bubbling with infectious enthusiasm. She exaggerated her movements, swishing her hips dramatically as if inviting you to join her in a spontaneous dance. “Dance with me!”

You glanced up, offering a brief smile at her playful energy before your eyes returned to the screen. “I would love to, but I really need to finish this…” you replied, your tone laced with apology but unwavering in focus.

Undeterred, Liz spun on her toes, her hair fanning out as she twirled closer to you. “Oh, come on!” she exclaimed, throwing her hands up in mock exasperation. “Just one dance. You know you can’t resist me!”

A soft chuckle slipped from you, clearly entertained by her antics, but your fingers resumed their quick tapping across the keyboard. “I really need to get this done,” you insisted, your focus still intact.

With an exaggerated huff, Liz threw her hands in the air, her eyes sparkling with renewed determination. She realized subtlety wasn’t going to work this time; she needed a different approach. So, with a sly smile, she scrolled through her phone again, selecting a slower, sultry track that filled the kitchen with a deep, sensual beat. She began moving to the rhythm, rolling her hips in a way she knew would be impossible for you to ignore.

The shift in tempo did not go unnoticed. Your fingers stilled momentarily, and your gaze lifted, following the hypnotic sway of her body. Liz noticed the flicker of interest in your eyes and smirked inwardly. Gotcha, her confidence started to build.

“What's more important, your work or me?” she whispered, stepping closer until her chest is pressed against your back. “Come on, just give in, I can see it in your eyes.” Her breath was warm on your ear, her voice dipping into a tone that sent a shiver down your spine.

Without waiting for a response, she leaned in, pressing a gentle, lingering kiss just below your ear, where she knew you liked. Her lips traced down the line of your jaw, slow and deliberate, as if savoring every inch of skin. Her kisses were soft at first, feather-light, each one coaxing you to lose a little more focus.

As she reached the side of your neck, her hands slid up and tangled into your hair, her fingers curling with just enough pressure to make you look up from your work. She tugged gently, pulling you closer as she kissed the spot just above your collarbone, her lips pressing in deeper, each kiss warmer and more possessive than the last. She could feel the faintest hitch in your breath as her lips moved, her mouth leaving a trail of warmth in her wake. The sensation was dizzying, and every brush of her lips seemed to spark a little more heat between you, making it impossible to ignore her any longer.

One hand drifted from your hair to your shoulder, her fingertips brushing slowly down your arm before trailing back up, her touch deliberate and teasing. Her lips hovered at the nape of your neck, grazing softly as she whispered, “Can you please give me attention?” Her voice was a gentle plea wrapped in a sultry tease, her breath hot against your skin.

Her hands tightened slightly in your hair as her lips continued their trail, her kisses deepening as she left small, possessive marks—soft, warm reminders of her presence that lingered even after her lips moved. She pressed herself closer, the rhythm of the song matching the slow, deliberate beat of her heart. Her voice softened, and you could feel her smirk against your skin, an invitation that left little choice but to surrender to the pull of her touch.

Your resolve wavered as you glanced at her, but with a quick shake of your head, you refocused on your work. “Honey, I promise after I'm done, I'll give you all the attention you need, okay?”

Her lower lip jutted out in an exaggerated pout, the disappointment was almost comically dramatic. But she wasn’t ready to concede defeat. Instead, with a quick, determined stride, Liz slipped out of the kitchen and darted to your shared bedroom. She rummaged through the drawer, grabbing a fresh set of lacy undergarments, a mischievous glint in her eyes as she hid them behind her back. She returned to the kitchen, concealing the change of clothes with an innocent smile.

Rejoining you, Liz picked up a glass of water, a glint of mischief in her eye. She positioned herself close to you, pretending to take a casual sip, then with an exaggerated gasp and a theatrical tilt, she "accidentally" spilled the water down the front of her sweater and shorts, the cold splash soaking through the fabric and clinging to her curves beneath.

She let out a playful, shocked gasp, looking down at herself with wide eyes. “Oops!” she exclaimed, feigning innocence as she looked up at you, her eyes shining with mischief. “Looks like I made a mess…”

You looked up, eyebrows raised in amused disbelief. “Really?” you began, trying to keep your tone stern, but your amusement betrayed you.

Without missing a beat, Liz shrugged, flashing you a devilish smile as she reached for the hem of her soaked sweater. With an agonizing slowness, she pulled it off, letting the damp fabric slip over her shoulders and fall to the floor, leaving her in her wet shorts and a cute pink bra that hugged her so well. She shot you a glance, watching as your gaze lingered.

But she wasn’t done. Her fingers hooked under the waistband of her shorts, and with a teasing glance in your direction, she slid them down her hips, letting the fabric fall to the floor and leaving her in the matching soaked underwear. The damp material clung to her skin, accentuating every curve and had become almost see-through, revealing the soft contours beneath. It molded to her body, tracing every line and dip with delicate precision, hinting at the natural line between her legs. A small smile played on her lips as she noticed the faint shift in your expression, a silent acknowledgment of the effect she had on you.

She took a slow step forward, lifting her chin defiantly. “You sure you don’t want to help me out now?” she teased, raising an eyebrow as she tugged at the strap of her bra.

Your gaze followed the movement, and you chuckled, shaking your head even as your resolve began to waver. “You’re going to have to try harder than that,” you replied, though your tone softened, hinting at how close you were to giving in.

“Oh, I plan to,” she murmured, her voice a sultry whisper as she drew nearer. Her hands slipped behind her back, fingers deftly locating the clasp of her bra. In one smooth motion, she unhooked it, allowing the fabric to glide down her arms and pool at her feet, revealing her bare chest. Her eyes locked onto yours, challenging you to look away. But you couldn’t; your gaze lingered, tracing the contours of her form.

Then, with deliberate slowness, she turned around, her back to you as her hands slipped down to the waistband of her panties. She bent over slightly, just enough to give you a full, tantalizing view, as she peeled the wet fabric down her hips and thighs, letting it drop to her feet. Every movement was slow and intentional, and the sight left you speechless, torn between finishing your work and giving in.

Straightening up, she faced you once more, her cheeks slightly flushed but her eyes filled with confidence. Without a word, she reached for the fresh set of undergarments she had hidden, slipping into them as you watched, completely captivated.

Her lips curled into a sly smile as she met your gaze again. “Now… will you touch me?” she asked, her voice a soft plea wrapped in a sultry tease, her tone breaking the last of your resolve.

You chuckled, shaking your head with a hint of feigned restraint. “Later, I promise. If I don't finish this then I won’t have a job—and then I won’t be able to get you all those things you keep hinting about.” Your tone was steady, but your gaze betrayed you as it traced all over her body, revealing just how much of a struggle it was to stay focused.

Liz let out an exaggerated, melodramatic groan, her hands falling to her hips in mock defeat. “Fine, fine. Later, that's what you always say,” she said, pouting as she reluctantly stepped back, throwing you one last, imploring look.

Just then, your phone buzzed on the table, its insistent vibration shattering the playful silence. You stood up to answer, frustration flashing across your face as you paced back and forth, absorbed in the terse conversation. As you talked, Liz watched you, her own impatience simmering. The wait stretched on unbearably, her need for you now pulsing with an almost comical level of urgency. She could feel her determination solidifying.

Without uttering a single word, she rose from her seat, her movements fluid yet purposeful. She slipped into the sanctuary of the bathroom, closing the door softly behind her. The coolness of the tiles against her back was a contrast to the feverish heat that radiated from within. Leaning against the wall, she released a shaky breath, the ache between her thighs a relentless, pulsating demand for attention.

Her hands, trembling slightly with pent-up desire, began a slow descent down her body. They traced the contours of her hips, the familiar terrain now electrified with heightened sensitivity. Dipping between her legs, her fingers tentatively explored the heat that beckoned them. Her breath hitched as she grazed her sensitive skin, a jolt of pleasure coursing through her, but it was fleeting, a mere whisper of what she truly yearned for.

She pressed her fingers more firmly against herself, attempting to mimic the touch she so desperately needed from you. Her heart pounded in her chest, a staccato rhythm that matched the increasing tempo of her own hand. The tension within her coiled ever more tightly, each desperate stroke fueling the fire that threatened to consume her.

Yet, despite her best efforts, the release she sought remained maddeningly out of reach. Her self-administered caresses, though fervent, were a hollow imitation of the passion she craved. A soft desperate whimper escaped her lips, her head falling back against the unyielding wall as her body trembled with unmet need. Her fingers moved with increasing urgency, her breath quickening to short, sharp gasps, but the elusive wave of pleasure she sought continued to elude her, taunting her with its proximity.

"Come on… please…" she begged into the empty room, her voice a tremulous blend of desperation and frustration. She increased the pressure, her hips undulating against her own hand, but the crescendo she so desperately sought remained just beyond her grasp. Her fingers, now slick with her own arousal, were simply not enough to quell the storm within her.

Defeated, she withdrew her hand, her body still throbbing with an unsatisfied longing. Her breath came in shallow, ragged gasps, and a solitary tear of frustration tracked down her cheek. The realization hit her with a profound clarity: she needed you. Only you could extinguish the flame that raged unabated inside her.

Liz composed herself, the cool air of the bathroom doing little to temper the inferno that burned within. She emerged from the bathroom, her gaze immediately drawn to you. You sat at the table, the picture of calm repose after your phone call, contrasting to the turmoil that racked her. Without hesitation, she sprinted across the room, her need for you a palpable force that propelled her forward. She climbed onto your lap, her body pressing against yours, her desperation an unmistakable presence between you.

"I don't care about your work," she whispered, her voice raw with the remnants of her frustrated attempts at satisfaction. "I tried, but it's not enough. I need you."

The words hung in the air, raw and vulnerable, thickening the tension between you. She inched closer, the anticipation building with each heartbeat. Her breaths were shallow, her cheeks flushed, and when she lifted her hand toward your face, her intentions were unmistakable.

Her fingers trembled slightly as she brought them to your eyes, and you noticed the glistening sheen—a subtle but unmistakable sign of her arousal. The warmth radiating from her touch spoke volumes, the scent and sight of her desire making the air around you almost electric.

Slowly, she then slid her fingers past your lips, and you couldn’t suppress the soft gasp that escaped as the taste and warmth of her skin flooded your senses. The feel of her wet fingers against your tongue sent an electric pulse through you, one that lingered, intense and undeniable. Your eyelids fluttered closed, your breath hitching as you surrendered to the sensory overload she was offering.

Her fingers moved slowly, exploring the warmth of your mouth as if savoring every second. She traced the curve of your tongue, brushing lightly against the smoothness of your palate, each touch slow and deliberate, leaving a lingering warmth that was impossible to ignore. You felt her breath, hot and close, mingling with yours as her fingers coaxed a fire that echoed the rising tension between you. Your heart raced, each beat syncing with the throb of need that simmered just beneath the surface.

The heat in her core, which had moments ago felt unbearable, now flared into an intense blaze. With each passing moment, as her fingers remained enveloped in the warmth of your mouth, she could feel herself becoming more and more aroused. The wetness between her legs grew, a physical testament to her body's readiness. A soft moan escaped her lips as she imagined the culmination of their shared desire, the anticipation of what was to come next a sweet torture that promised to finally douse the unquenchable fire within.

Your eyes widened, reflecting a cocktail of surprise and mounting passion as Liz, with a fiery determination, began to move against you. Her hips swayed with an initial languidness, a slow burn that was quickly stoked into an intense flame. Each roll of her body was a word in an unspoken language, a plea for connection that was both physical and profoundly emotional.

Her lips, soft and insistent, blazed a trail down the column of your neck, marking you with the fervent passion of her need. The love bite she left just below your ear was a brand, a claim of intimacy that sent shivers down your spine. “Keep working for all I care, just let me use you.” she whispered, her voice a tremulous testament to her desperation. Her sentence trailed off into a moan as her hips found a rhythm that spoke of her urgency.

Liz’s body was a conduit of yearning, each movement an expression of her deep-seated desire. Her need was palpable, a force that seemed to vibrate through the very air around you. Your hands, initially steadying, now clung to her waist with an intensity that mirrored her own. Your breaths were short, sharp bursts of air as you wrestled with your own surging need, striving to maintain a semblance of control in the face of her unbridled passion.

But Liz, lost in the throes of her own longing, was beyond the point of patience. Her lips returned to your neck, leaving another love bite, a twin to the first, as she ground against you with increasing fervor. “Ugh forget what I said. Please help me out!” she whimpered, her voice cracking under the weight of her need. “I can’t take it anymore.”

It was the raw vulnerability in her voice that finally pierced your resolve. Your hands, now firm and decisive, gripped her hips, not to pull her closer but to lift her gently off your lap. You guided her toward the bed, a sanctuary where you could lavish upon her the care and attention she so desperately craved. Liz blinked in momentary confusion, her body still pulsing with unfulfilled desire. She had been so close to the edge, so ready to tumble over it with you.

“Okay” you murmured softly, your voice a soothing balm against her flushed skin as you cupped her cheek. Your thumb traced a gentle path across her heated flesh, a silent promise of the tenderness to come. “I didn't know it was this bad, I'm sorry for making you wait.” Your lips found hers in a kiss that was both a reassurance and a reawakening of her senses. “But I want to take care of you properly. This is all about you, baby.”

Liz’s breath hitched, her body quivering with a mixture of anticipation and a newfound sense of being cherished. As you guided her down onto the bed, your hands moved with a reverence that made her heart flutter. Each touch, each caress, was a testament to your desire to please her, to explore the depths of her need and satisfy it in a way that was as much about connection as it was about physical release.

Your lips continued their journey, leaving a trail of soft, deliberate kisses down her neck. You took your time, savoring the moment, as you kissed across her collarbone with a tenderness that made her feel both vulnerable and exquisitely seen. With gentle care, you unclasped her bra, revealing the stiff nubs breasts, the raw truth of her desire. Liz’s skin prickled under your touch, her breath coming in shallow gasps as she surrendered to the waves of anticipation that coursed through her.

In the quiet of the room, the world outside faded away, leaving only the two of you—a tangle of limbs and a tapestry of whispered yearnings. Your every move was deliberate, a dance of devotion that promised to worship every inch of her being. Liz felt overwhelmed, not just by the sensations that threatened to consume her, but by the depth of emotion that shone in your eyes. In this sacred space, she was not just a body to be claimed, but a soul to be revered.

As your lips continued their tender exploration, each kiss a vow of adoration, Liz surrendered to the exquisite surrender, knowing that in your capable hands, she would find not just the release she craved, but the connection she had been yearning for all along.

“I’ve got you, baby,” you whispered against her skin, kissing lower as your hands gently pressed against her thighs to ease them apart. “Let me take care of you.”

Liz whimpered softly, her fingers gripping the sheets as your lips grazed her inner thighs, teasing her with featherlight kisses. The anticipation was excruciating, the fire between her legs almost unbearable now. “Please,” she gasped, her hips shifting under your touch. “Please hurry up. I can’t wait…”

You looked up, eyes dark with intent but softened with affection. “I know, honey,” you murmured, voice soothing. “You don’t have to wait anymore.”

Slowly, you hooked your fingers around the waistband of her panties, slipping them down her thighs. As you pulled the fabric away, a glistening line of arousal connected it to her core, a raw, intimate sign of her need that sent a fresh wave of desire surging through you.

With that, you lowered your mouth to her most intimate area, beginning a slow, deliberate journey with your tongue that drew a sharp gasp from her lips. Liz's back arched off the bed as the first wave of intense pleasure washed over her, your name falling from her lips in a soft, breathless plea.

You savored every moment, taking in the taste and warmth of her, feeling the desperation in every tremor of her body. Your tongue moved with deliberate purpose, tracing slow, languid circles around her most sensitive spot before pressing in, tasting the raw sweetness of her arousal. The slight tang lingered on your tongue, a heady reminder of how close she was to unraveling.

With each flick and caress, you explored her rhythm, sensing exactly where to tease and where to soothe. You took her clit between your lips, sucking softly at first, then with increasing pressure, drawing a deep moan from her that resonated through your chest. Her hips arched instinctively, pressing against your mouth, silently begging for more. The slow, sensual rhythm built her higher and higher, and you felt her thighs begin to tremble on either side of you.

Liz’s hands fisted the sheets, her breath coming in short, uneven gasps as you intensified your pace. You could feel her holding back, teetering on the edge, her body taut and eager beneath you as your tongue worked her into a state of pure need. She had waited so long for this, imagined your touch from the moment she woke, and now, here you were, driving her wild with bliss.

“Please,” she whimpered, her voice a desperate plea. Her fingers found their way to your hair, tangling in it as she clung to you, her body quivering. “Don’t stop… Oh God, please don’t stop.”

You lifted your head just enough to murmur against her skin, the hum of your voice sending a shiver through her core. “I won’t, baby,” you whispered, lips brushing her, each word thick with intent. “I’m going to make you feel so good.”

Her soft cries grew louder as you continued, your tongue stroking over her, slow and unrelenting, each motion sparking new jolts of pleasure that left her gasping and releasing another desperate moan from her lips. Liz’s body arched sharply, her thighs tightening around you as the pressure intensified.

“Oh my…” she gasped, voice catching in her throat, her breath shallow and ragged. “I’m so close…”

“Go ahead, baby,” you murmured, your breath hot against her skin. “Cum for me.”

The words combined with a deep flick of your tongue, were all she needed. Her release crashed over her, consuming her in waves. Liz cried out, her body trembling violently, thighs quivering uncontrollably as the orgasm took hold. Her hands clenched the back of your head, pulling you impossibly close as her head threw back, each moan spilling from her lips a testament to the ecstasy you’d pulled her into.

But you didn’t stop. Your mouth remained on her, relentless and devoted, your tongue and lips letting her ride out every last bit of her orgasm. When her thighs started to press together, instinctively seeking some escape from the intensity, you hooked both hands between her legs, prying her open with gentle but steady pressure. Your fingers dug softly into the flesh of her inner thighs, holding her in place, ensuring she stayed completely vulnerable to every flick of your tongue.

Liz whimpered, her hips squirming under your firm hold, her body entirely exposed to your touch, with nowhere to hide from the sensations that were building within her. She tried to twist away, overwhelmed by the pleasure, but your hands kept her steady, her every movement restrained in the soft grasp of your fingers.

“I can’t… please… it’s too much…” she moaned, her hands weakly gripping your head, but even then, she knew the warm feeling in her core was still lingering. “Okay, maybe just one more.” She weakly let out, contradicting her own words.

The sensation between her legs was nearly unbearable, her breath coming in shallow, desperate gasps as your mouth moved over her, slow and torturous, each flick of your tongue igniting another spark of sensation. You let your lips close over her sensitive clit again, sucking softly, then firm enough to tug on the nub, until her body responded with a shuddering moan that sent a thrill through your being.

You let your mouth bring her closer and closer, feeling the growing tension in her thighs and the way her breathing became ragged. You stayed focused, your tongue moving with purpose, keeping her right on the edge.

“Oh… oh, please…” she gasped, her voice quivering as you increased the pressure, holding her open and vulnerable as her release built quickly, the intensity almost too much to bear.

With a particular lick, your tongue curved deep inside her, pressing against her walls as it moved, then you brought it back flicking over her clit repeatedly. She cried out, her body going rigid as the climax surged through her. Her toes curled, and her thighs trembled in your firm grasp, but you held her open, feeling the waves of pleasure pulse through her. Her juices enveloped your mouth as she shook uncontrollably, her hands gripping the sheets, breathless from the overwhelming bliss that crashed over her again and again. “Oh God… fuck! I-I’m cumming!” she cried, her voice breaking as her body convulsed beneath you, every nerve alight with intensity. The sensation was so powerful it left her undone, each convulsive tremor a testament to the pleasure coursing through her, leaving her utterly spent, yet deeply fulfilled.

You slowed your movements, letting your tongue soften as you felt the warmth of her release, helping her ride out the final waves of pleasure. Leaning in, you pressed gentle, reverent kisses along her pulsing, trembling folds, each one soft and deliberate, as if sealing in the pleasure that still coursed through her. With each kiss, you felt the last traces of her climax gradually ease, her body quivering under your touch.

When you finally pulled back, Liz collapsed onto the bed, her body still trembling, her breath coming in ragged gasps. She was completely spent, her mind foggy with exhaustion and the overwhelming afterglow of multiple orgasms.

You crawled up beside her, pressing soft kisses along her stomach, then moving to her chest, and finally finding her lips. The kiss was slow, tender, and filled with love. Liz melted into it, tasting herself on your lips, her body still shaking from the aftershocks. Yet amid that tremble was a warmth in her chest—a feeling of being so completely cherished that it nearly brought tears to her eyes.

“You’re so cute,” you whispered against her lips, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” Liz murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. Her body felt heavy, exhausted from the overwhelming pleasure, and she could feel the exhaustion pulling at her.

You smiled softly, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Take a nap baby, I’ve got you.”

Liz’s eyelids fluttered shut, her body relaxing completely into the bed. The last thing she felt was the warmth of your lips pressing a final kiss to her forehead before she drifted off into a deep, contented sleep. You bent down and pressed a delicate kiss to her forehead, your lips lingering there as you whispered, “Sleep well, my love.”

Carefully, you tucked the blanket tighter around her shoulders, making sure she was wrapped up securely, bundled in a loving warmth. You gently ran your hand over the curve of her waist, the lightest of touches, before pulling the blanket higher up around her neck, ensuring that no part of her would feel cold. It was as if you couldn’t stop yourself from wanting her to be as comfortable and protected as possible.

“You’re adorable,” you murmured softly, smiling as you leaned in to kiss her again, pressing your lips softly to the top of her head. “How did I get so lucky?”

Liz let out a soft, sleepy hum, shifting slightly under the blanket, but she remained blissfully asleep. Your heart fluttered at the sound, and you stood slowly, your movements quiet and gentle as you finally tore yourself away, knowing she was completely at ease.

With a reluctant sigh, you walked back to the kitchen, settling in front of your laptop once again. But after just a few minutes, your thoughts kept drifting back to Liz, still peacefully asleep just a room away. Every few moments, you glanced in her direction, your focus slipping from your work.

Why not work there? you thought.

After all, you could bring the laptop into the bedroom and be close to her while she slept. Quietly, you stood, gathering your laptop and slipping into the bedroom. There was a small table and chair near the window, just perfect for setting up your workstation. You set the laptop down carefully, keeping the light low to avoid disturbing Liz, and settled into the chair.

Now, from your spot, you could watch Liz sleep while you worked—something that made your heart feel a little fuller.

As you worked, you kept stealing soft glances at her, your heart warming every time you saw her peacefully tucked under the covers, her chest rising and falling in a slow, steady rhythm. You smiled to yourself, feeling a sense of comfort knowing you were nearby in case she needed you.

If I finish quickly… your fingers tapping efficiently at the keys.

Determined to wrap up your work, you focused more than you had all day, your motivation clear. You wanted nothing more than to slide back into bed beside Liz and hold her close.

Finally, after what felt like forever, you finished your last task. A quiet sigh of relief escaped your lips as you closed the laptop, your eyes immediately drifting back to the bed. With a content smile, you stood and tiptoed to the bed, careful not to wake her.

The moment you slipped under the covers beside her, Liz instinctively stirred, her body reacting to your presence even in sleep. Without waking, she shifted closer, wrapping her whole body around you. Her leg draped over yours, her arms encircling your waist, and she pressed her face against your neck, letting out a soft, contented sigh as she snuggled into you, as if she had been waiting for you to return all along.

Your heart swelled as you wrapped your arms around her, pulling her in even closer. You leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head, your fingers gently stroking her back as she relaxed fully against you.

“There you are,” you whispered softly, your voice full of warmth and affection. “I missed you too, baby.”

Liz responded with a sleepy hum, her grip on you tightening just a little, her breathing slow and steady. Even in her dreams, she clung to you, her body instinctively seeking the comfort of your embrace. You smiled down at her, your chest filling with a deep sense of love and contentment. She fit so perfectly against you, as though you were two pieces meant to come together.

You settled into the pillow, feeling the steady rise and fall of her breathing against you. You weren’t at all sleepy, but you lay there with a smile, reveling in the warmth of being so close to her. The gentle rhythm of her breathing was comforting, and as you watched her peaceful face, you felt a wave of happiness wash over you. In that moment, everything felt perfect, and you couldn’t imagine wanting to be anywhere else. Wrapped up in each other, with the soft glow of the lights circling around you, everything was as it should be.

[willows-peak]

thinking about geto for tonight

normally he always wants to fuck you while you're on your back, so he can watch your eyes roll up while he's drilling himself inside of you. but the uncertainty you'd feel when he took you from behind, any movement he makes drawing gasps from your lips or making your back arch down into the sheets was simply too good to pass up.

especially with how long he could draw this moment out, the one where he'd spread open your lips and groan at how wet you'd gotten, leaving a light kiss against you before repositioning himself and lining up his swollen tip with your hole. he always took his time pushing inside of you, rubbing small, slow circles across your pussy with his tip while you'd breathily call his name, his cock jumping in response to your voice.

"getooouu, don'....teasssee" you'd whine with that desperate, needy tone of yours, pushing your butt back against him to try and push him inside of you. really, how could he ever take you seriously like this? with your stomach laid against the bed, thighs spread wide open enough for him to feel how you eagerly clenched down whenever he began to work his cock inside you, only to drag it back out and continue to gather wetness along his length, rubbing his shaft up and down your cunt teasingly.

and, of course, when he did finally shove himself inside of you, his cock throbbing *hard* at the loud moan you let out, accompanied by the deep ache of your cunt surrounding his dick. you were always sooo fucking tight around him, squeezing every ounce of pre cum out from his cock while you started to rock your hips back against him almost instantly, not having the patience to wait for getou to start moving.

unluckily, geto had enough patience to spare for the both of you, so he'd hold your hips still with his big, thick hands, rubbing his thumb across the soft flesh while he listened to you moan in annoyance. "getooouu, come on, move already" you'd rasp out, your face scrunched with displeasure as you looked back at getou's peaceful expression.

and he would only say "like this?" before leaning down against your back, chest pressed firmly onto your shoulder blades while his mouth rested by the shell of your ear. you flopped back down against the pillow tucked underneath your head when his hips rocked up inside you, hitting deeper yet not deep enough, *so* close to what you needed to feel.

he'd drag this out as much as he wanted to, lazily thrusting inside of you when he starts feeling generous, his pointer finger running up along the base of your spine while his cock is filling you up so well. his hand coming to the root of your hair and gently running it up your scalp, spinning a strand of hair around his finger while he listens to you moan from the thick feeling of his dick.

the slow, almost grind of his length inside of you was mind-numbing in itself, being forced to feel every single vein and ridge being dragged along your sensitive walls, being hyperaware of the stretch your pussy had to make to take him, being aware of the lewd wet sounds every thrust made, your wetness seeping down your inner thigh at a snail's pace.

you couldn't decide on what to focus on, even if you tried. every time you attempted to speak, your mouth could only make slurred out moans of getou's name while he took on a pitying tone in your ear, pampering your neck with small kisses as he talked to you. "yeah? that feel good, pretty girl?" as he angled his hips down, moaning into your ear from how you'd pulse around him at the new position.

he knew exactly where to hit, and he'd abuse every spot inside you until you were puddy in his hand. only then, when you're drooling into the pillow and completely lax in his grasp, he'd fuck you properly, and he wouldn't stop until the both of you were satisfied.

[animeyanderelover]

Hey! I love your writing!

Could i request headcanons of Yandere Douma with a member of the eternal paradise cult that has never asked him for anything despite the fact he's essentially their god. They assume hes probably stressed hearing and trying to fix other people's problems all the time so they never ask him to fix their life but theyre a diligent worshipper and helper around the cult.

Tw: Yandere themes, toxic relationship, possessive behavior, obsession, delusional behavior, clinginess, manipulation, sadism, isolation

Tags: @leveyani @kanaosprotector

It must be tough to be a god

❄️​What others may only see as utter terror if they would know what is going on behind closed shoji doors is viewed as an act of kindness by Douma. The consumption of his followers is a sign of mercy and kindness as he frees them from their pitiful and pathetic human lives by devouring them. How can those creatures not be tormented by their own existence after all? Their bodies age and decay, their beauty vanishes and in the greater order of things they are flies just waiting to be swatted away and to be forgotten. Needless to say, he looks at your kind with rather condescending opinions yet such thoughts only convince him further of his good deeds. He lends them an ear when they seek him out, desperate and in agony, their heart shackled with chains only he can take off. He has always listened and given words of comfort and as empty as they may be, they latch on them like a leech does on human skin.

❄️​You are one of many faces in his cult, one that should be meant to be forgotten when your time eventually comes. Through hard word and sheer dedication though, you have earned yourself a position where you spend more time with Douma than the average follower. It is a honor you humbly accept as you work earnestly to do your assigned duty and the expectations of everyone justice. You gladly accept all compliments given to you by other worshipper in the cult yet Douma's words of gratitude are the ones that make your heart race the most, although you never let those sweet words get to your head. You believe that one shouldn't slack off because of kind words and compliments and that one should work hard and do their best every day to achieve self-control and inner peace. You fulfill your duties remarkably well and always look out if Douma should need something which you will then promptly arrange for him.

❄️​He praises you for your diligent performance and your hard work yet those words do not match his low thoughts. Douma is quite used to seeing little things like you who would do everything for him in hopes of gaining his attention and his affection. Surely you must be the same. A desperate, little thing who is prying for his love by working so exceptionally hard. He has always entertained such pathetic feelings as it is his duty to cater to the worries of his followers and he thinks that it is time for him to reward you too. What is it that your heart desires most right now? Tell him and he'll see it through to fulfill that little wish of yours. He expects you to utter the common wish of wanting his affection and attention, of the forbidden desire to be claimed by him, even if just for one night. Yet you don't fall for his seductive tone and the temptation of his body so close to yours as you express to him that you have no other wish than continuing to serve him loyally as you have done all this time before.

❄️​Your response puzzles the demon as he has never received such an answer to his offer. He makes no attempt to stop you though as you distance yourself from his body and excuse yourself before heading out, though he tilts his head curiously as his colorful eyes move with you until you are out of his sight. It is only after you have left that Douma fully recognises what has happened and as soon as he has realised, he can't help but let out a rather excited giggle. You denied his offer. You rejected him! Maybe if any of his other followers would have known about your behavior they would have ganged up on you to punish you for your rude and dismissive behavior. Yet the emotions rushing through Douma's veins are far from displeased in that moment as he finds himself rather curious and thrilled all of a sudden as he has never had someone treat him the way you just treated him. It is only the start of his obsession.

❄️​Suddenly you find yourself as the unfortunate target of almost all of his obsession as his attention is solely fixed on you. Boredom has been his only true companion that has always been with him even during his human years yet for the first time in his life he is experiencing something that isn't just a shallow and fleeting emotion. For the first time he sees a bit more worth in a human than what he normally thinks of them and it is rather thrilling to feel. Douma always appears in the places where he knows you are at the moment and successfully distracts you from your duties, quite displeased when you don't give all of your attention to him. You can feel his eyes on you even if you don't face him though and even if you are a dutiful worshipper, you tend to feel a bit creeped out by his behavior. He can't seem to hold out even a minute without asking you something or interrupting you otherwise as the feeling of boredom returns as soon as you don't pay attention to him.

❄️​Despite the rather childish and clingy attitude he suddenly expresses when he is around you, Douma is still quite observant. The demon is aware that you only tolerate this behavior of his because he is the leader of this cult. If it would have been anyone else, you would have given them already an earful. He wonders how far he can take this? If he would have been an honorable man, he would have felt guilty for suddenly abusing his power over you to invade your privacy, to touch you and to downright molest you at times. He isn't though and he will never be. He takes delight in listening how your heartbeat always picks up when he touches you, his hands lingering as they slowly rub up and down your body and watching how you can only uncomfortably squirm whilst his hands linger. You are normally always rather composed and calm so it is quite fun to be the reason for you to lose your facade. Perhaps he can coax you into requesting something special of him if he shows you his interest so boldly.

❄️​You remain unwilling to ask anything of him even as he continues expressing his interest in you through caresses and touches which soon has Douma wondering if you keep something from him. All of his followers have worries and wishes they confess to him yet only you have never made use of his services. Do you not trust him? Is that it? As fun and exciting your different attitude is, if you don't trust him that is a little bit of an issue that bothers Douma the more he thinks about it. He finds himself being rather straightforward this time without playing around as he asks you this question as soon as you have appeared before him due to him having sent for you. It is quite hard to decipher his true feelings as he still keeps a grin on his face, although his eyes are sharp and intense as he expects an answer from you. You see yourself pressured to answer his question, watching nervously as he tilts his head before he suddenly lets out an amused chuckle.

❄️​Your answer is just as adorable as you, you know? It is quite interesting that you have such silly worries, although he does feel quite flattered to know that you care that much about him. Though you should know that it is quite frustrating for him as you don't open up to him as much as all other followers yet it is you he has the most interest in. Be assured that it would sadden him more if you were to keep secrets and thoughts away from him. Those friendly words of his still hold a silent demand for you to open up all of your thoughts for him because Douma finds himself slowly feeling impatient that you keep such a wonderful mind away from him. If you still dare to hold on to your unwanted worries and deny him, you'll have to live with the punishment he as your god will give you. If you do not give him what he desires, he'll get it himself. There is a lot you don't know about each other after all but he'll be happy to share all of his secrets with you and find out all of yours in return.

[jjasen]

sleepless nights

summary: the happenings of when you and Rafe are the only ones up late at night

warnings: smut, minors do not interact, 18+

word count: 1.5k

a/n: reader is Sarah’s best friend; so sorry i’ve been mia for a bit!! i hope you all enjoy ❀

It’s late when you pad into the kitchen of Tannyhill. The sound of water filling your glass almost echoes throughout the house and you hope that nobody wakes up. Before returning to Sarah’s room, you settle atop the marble counter of the kitchen island. It’s peaceful at this time of night, when everybody but you is dead to the world, and you can have a few moments of silence to yourself.

Until you hear someone else traipse into the kitchen. “What are you doing up?” Rafe asks. He leans back on the counter opposite you and gives you a lazy smile.

You shrug. “Couldn’t sleep,” you whisper. He nods, and a few moments pass in quiet companionship before he steps closer to you. 

“You know what helps me fall asleep?” he asks. There’s a glint in his eyes that makes you shiver despite the warm summer night, as if he sees you, suddenly, for more than just his little sister’s best friend. You’re painfully conscious of the fact that you’re wearing only a thin cotton camisole and sleep shorts as Rafe stares at you unabashedly.

You bite your bottom lip nervously. “What?”

He grins and leans over you, his long arms on either side of your body, caging you in. He smells good, like sandalwood and something warm, some sort of spice, maybe. 

“Sex,” he answers. 

You intake a breath sharply and can feel your heart pounding, a flustered warmth blooming in your chest. His hand is on your thigh, rubbing circles with his fingertips, and you feel sparks fly over your skin at his light touch.

“Rafe,” you whisper, “we shouldn’t.” It’s a half-hearted attempt, really, you know that he won’t stop until he gets his way. He moves his hand even further up your leg to brush his fingers over the softness of your inner thigh, and you gasp, but make no bid to move away.

“I know you’re just as desperate to touch me as I am,” he whispers, his gaze intense, lustful. “Tell me I’m wrong. Look me in my eyes and tell me I’m wrong.” You exhale slowly and allow him to brush his thumb over your jaw, peering up at him from under your lashes. Your eyes down flit to his lips, and a smile tugs on the corner of his mouth. “That’s what I thought,” he says, before leaning down to kiss you.

He’s insistent and rough. Possessive, even. He kisses you as if he wants to consume you, as if it isn’t enough to just touch you, as if he must devour you whole. It’s strangely arousing, the way his carnal desire makes your core stir sinfully. His teeth skim along your skin as he presses hot, open-mouthed kisses along your jaw, and his hands run over your waist down to your thighs. You part them instinctually, your hands tangled into his hair, and you gasp shallowly for air.

Rafe pulls back to admire you. Your mouth is parted and deliciously swollen, your hair is mussed, your eyes glazed over, and reddened marks are beginning to bloom across your neck in a way that makes him achingly hard. You sigh his name and he hardens further still. The heat of his skin searing, sparks shiver down your spine when Rafe shimmies the lace of your panties down your thigh. He runs his fingers between your legs over your slick entrance and grasps your waist, gazing intently into your eyes. The brilliant blue of his stare has heat flushing up to your cheeks and your teeth sinking into your lower lip. You rock your hips against his hand.

“Do you like this?” he asks. He brushes over your swollen clit.

“Yes,” you breathe, trembling. 

“Good, because I like it too,” he says roughly, thrusting his fingers in. You gasp and throw your head back, moaning in pleasure and trembling, your hands scratching along his broad back. His thumb grazes teasingly over your clit and with his other hand he cups your breast, dragging his fingers over your nipples under the thin cotton of your camisole. Kissing up the column of your neck, Rafe runs his tongue along your jawline as he tastes your skin, salty-sweet. With each dip of his fingers curling into just the right spot, you gasp louder and louder until you come all over him. Quaking in your orgasm as pure bliss radiates up your spine, the sight of Rafe’s smug smile and his warm, heavy-lidded stare is almost too much and you clench around his fingers again.

Sliding his fingers out of you and into his mouth, the way he’s gazing at you whilst tasting you on his tongue, sinfully, a wicked gleam in his eyes, has you squirming beneath him, heat blooming into your cheeks. You look away, embarrassed, and he uses his free hand to tilt your chin up.

“Eyes on me,” he rasps, “I want to see your face when I fuck you.”

You are at a loss for how to respond to his words, the pure filth of his desire causing a shiver of excitement to run down your spine. “Okay,” you whisper, looking up at him through your lashes. Your innocuous, doe-eyed gaze only serves to increase Rafe’s lust, and he palms his cock before allowing you to slip your fingers beneath the band of his boxers.

You stroke his length gently, a little intimidated by his size and circumference, your hand barely able to wrap around its delicious warmth. He hisses, drawing air between his teeth, and grabs your wrist, forcing you to relinquish your grasp on his cock.

“Keep doing that and I’ll come right here,” he says, his breath hot on your cheek, before sliding on a condom and thrusting into you.

Rafe is no gentleman. He’s hungry, greedy, as he pounds into you roughly, his thick cock stretching you deliciously, all the while whispering filthy encouragements into your ear. The cool marble of the kitchen island is punishingly hard against your back, and yet you have never felt such intense pleasure.

You claw at the rippling muscles of his biceps with your free hand, the other frantically circling your clit. His arms cage you in as he holds himself up with one flexing forearm, the other curled so that his hand tangles into your hair. His eyelids flutter with pleasure and he almost has to force them open so that he doesn’t miss a moment of your arousal. The way you part your lips and bite down on your lower lip to muffle your lustful whimpers has him dangerously close to his release, and he fucks into you faster, harder.

“You wanna come, sweetheart?” Rafe pants, his thrusts getting sloppier, but still pounding into that spot that has your eyes rolling up to the back of your head.

“Don’t make me beg,” you whine, so close to the edge.

“I’m not going to. But we both know that you would do it if I told you too.” He’s smirking into the searing kisses he’s pressing to your collarbone, all too pleased with himself. You shake your head at him as best as you can manage while getting thoroughly fucked, but you know he’s right. 

With a final, shallow thrust and a cry of, “Oh, shit!”, Rafe comes, biting down into your neck to muffle his groans. At the sensation of his teeth piercing your skin, the searing pain rapturous to your nerve endings, your orgasm washes over you in a haze of euphoric bliss. You can feel his spent cock twitch inside of you as you clench around his length over and over again, pure pleasure rocketing up your spine. 

Panting softly, Rafe pulls out of you and briefly rests his forehead on yours, this  inconsequential action somehow more intimate than the sex. All too soon, he gets up to tread back upstairs to his room, leaving you to clean up your mess alone. His absence makes the kitchen feel even larger, the house more quiet, and there’s an ache of disappointment in your chest. Only then do you begin to worry about what will happen if Sarah finds out, what you will tell her. When you return to her room, she is still fast asleep. Relieved, you slip back under the covers.

Sun streams through the window and it’s so late you aren’t sure it’s morning anymore when you awaken. Stretching and yawning, the throbbing ache in your legs is a harsh reminder of the events of last night. Sarah is already up; she’s running a brush through her honey-blonde hair in the bathroom adjoined to her room.

“Someone slept in,” she remarks nonchalantly. “Rafe made crêpes, I saved you a few.” You smile despite yourself, and drag yourself out of bed to wash your face. Running a hand through your hair, you pull it back into a ponytail and accidentally brush over the bite Rafe left on your neck and wince. Sarah notices from the mirror and glances at you, frowning slightly.

“Is that...a bite mark?” 

Shit.

[igotanidea]

Raw: Jason Todd x reader

Warnings: SMUT MDNI!!! (seriously minors, read responsibly so we can all leave in peace here, there are enough wars and fights in the world), cursing.

massive thanks to @fcthots for letting me use the idea (Jason making love to you without protection for the first time, which I twisted a bit and which you can find here)

****************************************

Once he started he was like a machine.

There was nothing and no one that could possibly stop him from almost drilling into her.

At least that was what happening till one night …

“Baby….”

“Shit! Jason!” Y/N came out of the shower only to came across the red metal mask. Obviously her first reaction was a single scream as she grabbed her chest, trying to level the rapid spike in the heartbeat. She most definitely did not expect Jason to swing by her apartment in the middle of the night with an attempt to give her a heart attack. However she could not deny that his deep, hoarse voice send a shiver down her spine, not that she was going to let it show to him. Instead she held  her towel closer to her body, making sure it wouldn’t fall as she crossed her arms over chest and gave him a look of disapproval. “how many times did I tell you?” she scoffed “there are doors in this apartment.”

“doors are for wimps.” He muttered taking a step forward, finally taking off that stupid, unnecessary Red Hood helmet.

“Well thanks a lot!” she rolled her eyes “my experience shows that doors are basically for normal people.”

“Yeah…. Exactly baby….” He grabbed her by the waist pulling her closer to his body, brushing lips over her slightly damp cheek, hands caressing her arms up and down. “And we both know I’m an extraordinary person.”

“So much humility……” Y/N tried to keep her composure, but he always knew how to push her buttons and make her relent.

“Tell me princess…..” he muttered into her ear “why were you taking a shower this late at night?” his hand travelled up her arm moving towards the knotted front of the towel. “Did you get dirty, baby?”.

He knew exactly what he was doing putting on that sexy, seductive smirk, running his fingers over her chest, while the thin little piece of material did nothing to hide her already pebbled nipples and goosebumps forming all over her body. And Jason was always the one to enjoy teasing her, especially when he got so many clear signs of what she really wanted from him.

“Hmmmm….” He muttered, moving his touches and caresses down her body to her leg, reaching for the hem of the towel and sneaking under it only to start rubbing her inner thigh.

“Jace….” She closed her eyes, still desperately trying to keep her self-integrity that was slipping away by a second.

This was too much for her. The darkness of the apartment, the huskiness of his voice, the feel of his hands on her body. Yes, she wanted him. Yes, she might have done some things that required cleaning up, earlier that night. Yes, she was thinking about him while taking care of herself. She was really trained in self-service, but what can you expect from a girl, whose boyfriend is a vigilante, absent too many night and a woman forced to spend the nights alone in a cold, empty bed? To tell the whole truth, once she got what she wanted, Y/N thought it would be enough. After all you can’t go too many rounds running only on imaginations, right?

But then, the reason for all those dreams and fantasies were standing in front of her, in flesh and blood and her body got very excited at the sight while her brain was more than glad to pass the steering wheel to the flesh.

“Yes, sunshine?” he moved his ministrations a bit higher, smirking when she opened her legs a bit,  allowing him to almost reach her throbbing clit. “wanted to say something?”

God, he was a little piece of shit, not doing anything and yet doing so much at the same time, breaking her and making her fall so freaking easily.

“Jason……”

“Hmm?”

“I…. I…..”

Fuck!

“You’re not doing very good job with talking, princess, are you now?” Jason finger started moving over her most sensitive spot in circular motions, enjoying the pained expression on her face. “If you keep wasting my time, I might… just… leave….” He whispered, removing  his hand almost making her cry out in frustration. “Come on baby….. just say you need me… You know you do.”

“I do….” She gasped, grabbing both sides of his face and pressing her lips to his, letting go of all the inhibitions.

“Good girl…” he whispered against her mouth, untying the towel in one smooth motion, groaning like an animal when her naked, soft body clung to him like a second skin, that he so desperately wanted to get under.

But it was still not enough.

He had to have her. All of her. Mind, body, soul. Closer.

And he was going to claim her in a proper way, definitely not in the hallway. No.

Regardless of his stupidly teasing character she was still his princess, his queen, the love of his life and he was going to treat her exactly like that, ready to fulfil all her wishes and commands.

“Let me make you feel good baby….” He grabbed the back of her thighs, wrapping her legs around his waist, palms resting on her shoulder blades pulling her even closer, walking to the bedroom, miraculously avoiding tripping over his own feet, all because of her closeness and the pleasure at taste of her lips on his.

God, he was so starved for her and the evidence of it were visible on only in the form of the tent in his tactical pants, but also in the way he threw her on the bed, making her bounce and in the manner he tore off his own body armour and clothes, almost pouncing onto her.

Almost, because he knew that if he let go completely he would most definitely hurt her and he couldn’t bare even the thought of that.

Instead he crawled on top of her, kissing up her body, her calf, thigh, stomach, torso, breast (giving a lot of attention to those perfectly pebbled nipples he needed to taste the moment they showed under the towel), collarbone and neck, finally meeting her lips. 

He could eat her alive. She was so delicious, so soft, so warm, so fucking perfect and his blood boiled at the sweetness of her. Their tongues met in a crazy dance, wanting more, greedy and needy, exploring each other’s mouth.

It was like the overwhelming and encompassing fire inside them.

The world stopped existing and for what they care it could have exploded and they would be more than happy to die like this, in each other’s embrace.  Touching, scratching, gripping, licking, pushing and pulling, tugging at each other’s hair, losing breath, panting and gasping unable to satiate the need, the craving of one another’s body.

“More…..” he groaned, biting on her neck, eliciting the sweetest moan from his girl, barely holding back from ripping her throat open and swallowing her like a freaking animal. His body pressed into her leaving no space between, and yet still wanting more and more and fucking more. She felt him pulling her in even more, breaking all the laws of biology and physics, as his hands travelled down to her hips, spreading her open, causing her pulse racing in the pace of a space rocket.

“Yes….” She moaned, one hand gripping the headboard, the other tangling in his hair, her whole back arching to his lips that were currently kissing alongside the valley of her breast, travelling down the same path he started earlier, and which he was going to take so many more times that night.

“I know, baby…. I know….” His breath was scorching hot on her skin, leaving invisible marks. In that moment, as in every other time they were being so close, so intimate together, with nothing between their bodies and souls, they both knew that they could never ever leave the other. They were too hooked on one another, almost like on a drugs. Jason left a permanent scar on her soul in the shape of his. The scar that she couldn’t and wouldn’t want to lose. He was a part of her, a part of her own body. They were one. Always and forever.    

“I love you….” another moan escaped her mouth when he moved the tip of his tongue over her clit, his eyes sparkling with desire as he send her the mischievous, lustful gaze, before sucking on that aching spot. He was not only starved but also thirsty, ready to do everything to drink all her juices. And he methodically moved towards that goal, knowing what to do to turn her on.

She was so lost in pleasure, her body acting on its own, back arching, legs spreading, head falling back as she moaned and cried his name, pulling at his hair so ready to come, to explode, to finish.

“yes, yes, yes…. Yes, more!”

And he listened, melting in her moans, her sounds, her body, her taste. He knew he was good, he was very well aware she needed him and mindful of the amount of neglect on his part, of all those nights she spend lonely. And now he was making up for it.

But.

He was still a mix of a pleasure giver and a rascal, keeping her on the edge, surprising with every move and thought, never letting her be sure of what was going to happen.

It was both frustrating and exciting, making their intimacy a whole new, never boring experience every time.  

And now, if she was going to come, he wanted her on his cock, even if protected. Tongue was simply not enough and she owed him this much for making her so wet and pretty with those flushed cheeks and desire-filled eyes. He did it for her and now was going to claim his prize.

“Babe…. Y/N…. I want to take you….” He muttered, not stopping lapping her folds with that skilful tongue, his words getting lost inside her body. “fully take you…..”

“Yes… yes… oh, yes….just don’t stop….” Y/N was so selfish and needy, focused only on reaching her climax, barely listening, that if he were to ask her to jump out the window she would probably say yes again. This was only word on her mind at the moment as long as he kept on devouring her.

“Y/N…..” he muttered again. Lust was lust, but he needed her informed consent. Every time. Even though they were a couple. Jason was a very complex man after all. “Y/N….” he groaned. “Can I have you my way?”

“fuck yes! Yes!” she cried out.

And once he heard that word coming out of her mouth, he was all ready for action. He pulled back, reaching for the nightstand, knowing she kept that little packet of condoms there, just in case (and making a mental note to himself to stock up, cause they were running short on supplies). He hovered over her body, looking straight into her eyes while tearing the packaging with his teeth, admiring her shuddering body, shining eyes, messed up hair, all of her, having to remind himself that this goddess was his.

His, his, his.

His to claim, to love, to take over and over and over again.

God! He wanted her so fucking bad his hands were shaking while taking off the protection from the wrapper.

“No….. wait…” she whispered grabbing his wrist, her eyes boring into him, causing him to freeze and drop the condom in confusion. 

“wait? What do you mean wait? You …. You don’t want….?” Jason stuttered, his manhood almost flattening at the sudden rejection, which was quite embarrassing for him. “Y/N…..?” he looked at her with hurt in the eyes.

“No…. I mean…. I do… I want you….” She bit on her bottom lip in that erotic manner sending his mind into overdrive.

“Then what do you mean?” he gasped, getting all hot again, but was still dumbfounded. “Princess?”

She took the condom from his hands and send it flying through the room and shaking her head.

And then it hit him.

His eyes grew even wider, mouth falling open at the thought of what she was going to let him do to her. What she wanted. What she needed. And most importantly, how, she needed it.

“Babe…..” he gasped, unable to move, completely stuck in that moment, which was sure as hell the best ever in his life.  “are you sure? Are you absolutely sure?”

“Are you trying to make me change my mind, babe?” she whispered in his ear only to pull back and give him a pout.

He was going to take her raw.

Oh god…. He was going to take her raw.

Oh, all the things he was going to do to her, all the ways he was going to make her feel him, all of him, unfiltered, finally making her fully his, after all  the time of waiting.

“Fuck, Y/N!” he groaned, grabbing her waist, pressing her further into the mattress, spreading her legs open and pushing in, in one motion, doing it all in three seconds, no more, finally being inside her. And she was so wet, so warm, so soft, so perfect, so … home.

He was home.

And Jason was drifting in space, with the emotions overwhelming him completely. So good, oh, so good, he wanted to melt into her, have no boundaries, just be one with his Y/N, his babygirl.

It was the only thing on his mind right now.

Y/N. Y/N. Y/N.

“Jason…..” her desperate moaning brought him back to reality.

“Y/N…..” he gasped in response, eyes closing at the pleasure of feeling her body in a way he never got before. He was already in heaven.

“Jason … Please… move…” she whimpered, squirming desperately trying to urge him to take some action and not just freeze like a stone sculpture.

Oh, shit…..

“I can’t…” he whimpered hopelessly. How was he going to explain it to her?

“What do you meant you can’t?!” she cried out, raking her nails down his back, moving her hips against his to get any friction and turn him on “what’s going on?!”

She couldn’t comprehend what made him stop suddenly. He was inside her, big, hard like a rock, stretching her so deliciously and she wanted more. But now he was telling her fucking no?!

“Todd!!” she yelled, slowly losing her patience, her body begging for attention.

“I can’t…..” he almost sobbed, embarrassed and defeated. She was so perfect, her skin against him was amazing, the feeling of her velvety inside was bliss.

“I swear if you don’t hurry to fuck me…..” Y/N’s voice was turning a bit threating now even though she herself couldn’t come up with the idea what she was threating him with.

“'If I move I’m gonna cum….." Jason gasped, and it took her by huge surprise. He was always the resistant one. Gentlemanly, if you may. He could go three, four, five rounds making sure she was satisfied first, before letting himself go. So what the hell was happening now?!

"You haven't even been inside me for a full minute!" she protested, moving her body in a poor attempt to get what she wanted.

"Shut up!” he almost winced when she did that.  “You feel so fucking good. I just can't help it. Gimme a minute, babe……." He bit on his bottom lip, trying to get himself together and finding enough strength to start pulling in and out. The best he could do was half an inch before another low groan escaped his throat. “I can’t……” his hands were on both sides of her head, their faces close enough so she could feel his ragged, heavy breath and it was getting weirder and more uncomfortable with any other second.

"Jason," she whined, "please, please, please….!." poor girl felt like crying at his point and those high-pitched whines finally made him move.

He was doing it.

He was making love to her without any stupid rubber standing in his way.

She was his, making those sweet, sweet sounds for him, crying out his name,  digging nails into his back.

There were no words to describe that feeling.

And Jason was becoming more and more lightheaded with every thrust, with every move when his cock met that perfectly moist and warm cunt.

Y/N, Y/N, Y/N.

He was a bit ashamed to admit, but after a while he stopped thinking about her and focused only on his own pleasure, on his high, on his release.

MORE.

As he picked the pace, she moaned loud as never before, grabbing his body tighter, pulling him closer, losing her breath and matching his movements.  Her eyes were closed, her mouth opened with that perfectly perfect expression of being thoroughly fucked.

“Yes… yes.. yes…!”

Oh yes, indeed.

He captured her mouth in his, pulling at her bottom lip, almost drawing blood. His hands found her thighs spreading her open even more, pounding into her like a wild animal, knowing no bounds, no limits, no rational thinking. Sweat was running down his face and back, his hair plastered to his forehead, but he was going to have her.

“Jace…..!!” she cried out again when he bit on her collarbone, licking the marked skin.

“Yeah, baby…..Yeah….”

“shit!”

“I got you….”

“So close!” she dug both her heels into his back, the intensity of the lovemaking almost making her lose consciousness. “Oh… Jace…JACE!!”

And then there was only bliss.

***

Not for her though.

***

Obviously he couldn’t contain himself and living up to the previously spoken words, cummed first.

Hard. Long. Filling her to the brim which was an Event (capital E) in itself, but still – leaving her unsatisfied and wanting.

Such a failure on his part.

However, Y/N did not seem to care.

After he painted her with the ropes of his cum, moaning in sheer pleasure at the feeling, she just kept holding him and rubbing his back, showing him all the love she had for him. The expression of happiness and fulfilment was a prize in itself, and despite not cumming she couldn’t feel better at that moment. She knew he wanted to stay like this, therefore there was no rushing him to pull out on her part. She was going to let him have his moment.

Her poor boy, in need of love and closeness and intimacy.

“Y/N … baby … princess …”

“I love you …” she kissed his temple.

“I’m so sorry …” Jason blushed, pulling away from her and laying on his back facing the ceiling. “Y/N, my love, I’m sorry, but I told you …” he shifted position to lay on the side, meeting her eyes, shining despite the darkness of the room. She looked … satisfied.

“Shut up …” she chuckled, cupping his cheek and kissing his nose.  “that was fucking perfect…” Y/N chuckled.

“Perfect?” he frowned for a second, but quickly returned to his usual cocky self. “Yeah, it was fucking perfect. I mean, what else were you expecting with me, babygirl?” he grinned.

‘You’re such an idiot” she pushed him on his back, snuggling into his body, leaning head on his chest.

“I have to clean you up …” he objected, but those soft hands around him, the way her body aligned with his and the calm, steady beating of her heart next to him made him relent. “I think I can do it in a second …” he hummed nuzzling nose in her ruffled hair.

“Mhm…. Totally.” Y/N kissed his chest in response.

“Hey Y/N?” he called her name gently, caressing her side “did you feel good?”

“Yeah… yeah I did.”

“I still got to practise though, right?” he smirked, his touch becoming a little more intense and a bit more telling.

“You know what they say practise makes perfect.” She teased.

Poor Y/N was not going to be able to walk the next day.  

@nmw-am

[yanderes-galore]

I'll see what I can do, sure ^^

Prompts Here

Yandere! Steven Universe Prompts 8, 18, 22

“I know everything about you, darling, and you’re so perfect.”

“Don’t say you’re lonely. You have me!”

“I know it’s creepy, but I love watching you sleep. It’s peaceful, you know?”

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Stalking, Post-Kidnapping, Trauma, Clingy behavior, Steven's obviously not fine mentally, Delusional behavior, Angst, Forced relationship.

To him, it doesn't matter if this is wrong anymore.

Steven can't seem to feel calm without you. With everything going wrong in his life, he wants some sort of outlet. No matter how wrong it is.

Steven is so tired of having his needs be neglected. You are the only one who can comfort him. The only one he feels safe with...

Then he locked you in a room.

In his increasingly fragile mental state he felt locking you away in an apartment where he can keep you safe was the best decision (for himself....). Steven often comes to see you, living beside you to soothe his inner demons. It doesn't matter if you hate him or not...

He just needs you.

He needs you to be there for him.

He hates it when you say you hate it here. He hates it when you yearn for your old life, a life without him. When Steven visited one night, just to ease his stress, and you said you're lonely...

He refused to believe it... refused to share you with anyone.

You're meant to be here for him... and only him.

“Don’t say you’re lonely. You have me!” Steven laughs softly as he sits beside you one night. Even though the sound is meant to be lighthearted, Steven's nervous. He understands none of this is right... you don't deserve him doing this.

But he'll take anything to not be alone.

"I-I mean..." Steven stutters, cheeks flushing as he looks away from you shyly. “I know everything about you... and you’re so perfect!"

You evidently say nothing, glancing at him nervously. He hates that look. You look like some scared animal compared to him... frightened of him and his Gem powers. He really does wish he could love you normally...

There's nothing normal about him though... and he hates that too.

You should be someone he can't have. Someone as abnormal as him shouldn't have taken to someone so normal. Except... you're what he craves.

He craves normalcy and desperately wants that with you.

Steven has always wanted a normal life beside you. Except, he's gotten way too impatient. Way too demanding.... Such oversights is what lead to him locking you in your shared apartment.

He really is still a monster....

Which leads to him looking for your comfort to ignore such a fact... a constant feedback loop he's managed to get himself stuck in.

"I know the most about you... I love you more than anyone...." Steven tries to force a smile, trying to ignore how scared you are. No matter what he does... his origins keep echoing in his mind.

Will he always treat you like a pet? Even if you are just as, if not more, human as him?

"You just... You make me feel so calm!" Steven smiles. "Calmer than I have ever been... and... I know it’s creepy, but I love watching you sleep. It’s peaceful, you know?"

In an attempt to ignore the terrified look you're giving him, Steven pulls you close. Your struggling is ignored in his arms due to his strength. Steven can feel himself flicker pink but he ignores it, nuzzling into your neck as he tries to calm himself.

"Just... you understand I need you, right? Why I need you?" Steven whispers, glancing at you. "You'll always be there for me... I know it... even when things get tough...."

Steven is no doubt trying to convince himself you love him. Maybe at one point you did. But now? Well, he's too far gone to fix now.

Steven's rose-tinted delusions prevent him from seeing how you really feel. He's used to you helping him, used to you loving him. So much so he doesn't fully realize he's hurting you like everyone else.

He's not only hurting you... but himself....

Yet Steven doesn't know that. That, or more likely, he doesn't want to acknowledge it. All that matters to him now is you.

Steven still thinks you're the solution to all his problems, that you can help him...

When in reality, he's just leeching off you, dragging you into his own personal hell with him, just to make sure you're always his.

[lovelykhaleesiii]

I’m so happy your request are open again!

Could you do aemond comforting his wife while she’s on her period

thank you nonnie! so happy you sent in this ask, this is actually really perfect timing for me AHAHAHA god do I need my own Aemond right about now :(

hope you like this xx

Comfort this Agony

PAIRING: Aemond Targaryen x fem!Reader

WORDS: 1,344.

WARNINGS: mentions of mensuration, period cramps and blood.

A/N - I think we can all assume most of the men in HOTD AU, especially the young ones are not too educated about woman's health and the whole idea of periods, so Aemond's a little clueless but he catches on pretty quick!

That familiar, dreadful sensation had been brewing in the pit of your stomach for past few days, and you knew precisely what was to follow. The unpredictable, emotional reactions to the smallest of things, the sudden craving to devour something sweet every few passing hours, [not to mention] how sensitive and swollen your breasts felt. It seemed the Gods had not yet blessed you with a babe in your belly, just yet...

Ever since you had entered the tipping point of your maidenhood many years and moons ago, it seemed you could never quite acclimate to the pain nor the goriness of your periods, despite many claiming womanhood to be a miraculous and beautiful thing. For many of those maturing years, you had been alone in seeking relief and solace during each visit of your monthly cycle, and yet now you had the companion of a man, a husband, in your life with whom would be present in these experiences.

A wonderful man, he is though...

"Aemond, baby-" You did not wish to stir him so abruptly from his deep, peaceful sleep. You'd witnessed how exhausting his day had progressed: training in the bright and early hours in the morrow, only to proceed in running errands on behalf of the realm, as the dutiful Prince Regent. Since, his return in the late hours of the evening, Aemond retired to bed, looking so defeated, as he clambered himself to bed, seeking your warm comfort and solace. After a solid year of marriage, you grew accustomed to reading his face, for he was a man of very few words: this time a weary look drenched across his handsome, pale face, desperate for an ounce of some good night's rest.

"Aemond-" You softly whispered again, although this time with some urgency in your broken voice. With each passing minute, as your husband began to stir awake, you could feel the warm, liquid oozing between your inner thighs. Slowly, wincing in great pain your begin to pull the bed sheets down, checking in the dim candlelight that the white linen are free from stains, as you examine the mess beneath.

Aemond hearing your faint winces, he immediately wakes up, seating himself up hastily as he focuses on you, realising the reason you'd awoken in the first place.

"Aemond, dearest, could you fetch me a wet towel, please." Without a second to spare, Aemond was wife awake, swiftly moving towards the bedside basin as he quickly rings the wet cloth and rushes it over towards you.

"I-I'm so sorry you have to see me like this, I-I must've miscalculated my cycle-"

"Do not apologise, my sweet girl." Aemond interrupts you, in his deep, tender sleepy voice. Instinctively, his hand reaches over stroking your back gently, as you attempt to wipe yourself clean.

"Does it hurt my dearest?" He quiveringly questions, as he observes you with a sorrowful look on his face, his eye glancing from the bloody mess to your tearful, flustered face.

“Hmm, just a little. Nothing I haven’t endured before," You muster, although he can tell the pain is agonising, as you struggle to maintain focus with him, your bashful face slightly contorting in pain from the sharp cramps.

"You must be disgusted by me, I apologise, Aemond-" You persisted, as you stood yourself up in a haste, rummaging through the wooden wardrobe for your thick, sanitary cloths you used to fold into a makeshift pad. Just before you'd turned your back towards Aemond, ashamed of the sight unfolding before him, you noticed his face look away for a slip second, a hint of frustration strewed across.

Laying the folded pads neatly in your undergarments, you adjusted yourself comely, before turning to face Aemond, who remained focused on you.

A defeated sigh escapes his defined mouth, before he turns to look down at the bloody stained mess before him, remnant of where you had once laid comfortably.

"Seven Hells!" You cry out, as you hastily rush forward to undo the sheets from the mattress. Although, a firm grip of a large, rough hand tugging you by the wrist, caught your motions. He pulled you down, gesturing you to seat yourself on a clean spot near the foot of the bed by him, his thumb stroking your soft, cool skin.

“Y/N, I need you to stop apologising. You need not to be sorry over such matters. I must confess, shamefully, I do not know much about these things. Naturally, from what I’ve seen with my mother and Helaena, however, I do know that it is not a pleasant experience. Tell me what I can do to help you, my love."

"I-I just want to rest but I'll have to change these sheets. I know how tired you are, Aemond, and I apologise for waking you-"

"Jorrāelagon [Love], what did I mention about the apologising, hmm? I do not care if I miss a few hours of sleep, I cannot rest if you are hurting."

A slight tilt to your head, as you longingly fastened your gaze upon the dearest man before you, a heartfelt smile beaming on your face naturally.

"You take a seat by the fire, I'll fetch a maid to help me change the sheets. Do you wish for some milk of the poppy or some other remedy for the pain?"

Aemond stands himself up, before pulling you up with him, as he walks you over slowly towards the chair by the fire, grabbing his pillow as he props it appropriately, behind your back.

"I-I'll just have a peppermint tea, if that's possible. I find it helps ease the pain. But A-Aemond, please, I can help you change the sheets-"

"Nonsense, you will do no such thing, ābrazȳrys [wife]. You need to rest now." He plants a soft kiss on your hand as he kneels before you, making certain you are well adjusted and comfortable for the mean time.

He leaves the room swiftly, after donning a loose, linen white shirt, and some evening, black trousers. Intent on completing the tasks he'd set out to do on your behalf.

****

The bed linen now changed, clean and fresh, you settled yourself back into the cosy, soft material, as Aemond fetched the brewing kettle and tea from the servant at the door, along with some extra goodies he instructed to bring.

"Aemond, you spoil me so..." You whisper sweetly, as you take the hot mug from his hands, as he rests the half filled kettle by the table, close by in case you wish for a refill.

"It is too late in the hour to be eating these sweets, please join me."

"Do not fret, my dearest. I've noticed from before what you crave in these times. I wish for you to be sated and nothing less." He utters, a gentle smile on his face, as he watches the relief wash over you taking the first sip of the tea. His hand rests over your stomach covered by the sheet, making sure not to exert too much pressure.

"Do you wish for me to massage you? I can help soothe the pain."

"No-No, it is fine, husband-"

Although, there was no use protesting. His hand instinctively began to gently move from side to side, as he began to knead against the tender, swollen pit of your lower stomach.

"Do not think you should endure this matter alone, Y/N. I am your husband... I intend to comfort this agony by your side, as I vowed before the realm and the Gods, many moons ago. To love you in sickness and in health."

Reassuringly holding his tough hand in yours, you pull on his long fingers, encouraging him to move closer. Your hand now reaching over, cupping his chiseled face, you plant a long, soft kiss on his forehead as he leans towards you. You contemplate how blessed to have been, to have an endearing, unfaltering husband, such as Aemond by your side.

"You are far too good to me, Aemond. How could I have been so lucky?"

[ikolaiigh]

My Love Will Never Die

𝑻𝑾/𝑾𝑨𝑹𝑵𝑰𝑵𝑮𝑺..Accidental S3lf-harm, near drowning, Sexual Content, stalking, Possessive behavior, Murder, Obsessive behavior, unhealthy behavior, angst with a happy ending, violence, hallucinations, heavy disassociation, self-loathing thoughts, Emotional/Psychological Abuse (not by Ariel btw), s*icidal thoughts, Mental Breakdown, Every chapter when release will have its warning.

𝑷𝑨𝑰𝑹𝑰𝑵𝑮𝑺: Yandere!Ariel x Queen!Reader

𝑺𝑼𝑴𝑴𝑨𝑹𝒀..She saved you, cradled you in her arms, and her soothing voice resonates within you like a haunting melody. When you both reunited again on the shoreline, her presence now consumes your every thought and feeling. Her presence feels essential to your survival, and you're determined to live on, no matter the circumstances...what she had done with you?

𝘈/𝘕: HI HI YET AGAIN!! :))) So uh this is extremely self-indulgent ngl, the lack of Yandere!Ariel is like...illegal and yes this is another series since Under the Sea is almost finished (I will post it dw) so I decided to do this! And in this AU instead of Eric being the prince of the kingdom, it will be the Reader! Btw Ariel here is not specified, so you can interpret her from the 1989 version or the live action! So..I hope you guys enjoy!

-Also! Ariel in this AU is heavily based by this post here! Again her race isn't specified! Neither is the Reader's :) Ariel is the acting "Queen" of Atlantica! both reader and Ariel are in their mid 20's!

𝑷𝑳𝑨𝒀𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻... Ariel Carinae

"𝐒𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭." -𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐬 𝐂𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐀𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐧

When a ruler dies, the ones in line for the throne make one last attempt to get to it first. A rather chaotic few days filled with desperation, especially for those involved.

As the sun began to set, casting a warm glow over the kingdom, you found yourself seeking solace in the confines of your bedroom facing the dressing table's mirror. The weight of the impending crown bore heavily on your mind, its significance not lost on you. In just a few hours, you would officially become queen, but with the throne came the burden of making crucial decisions for the kingdom. The once comforting opulence of the room now felt suffocating and distant, a reminder of the isolation that accompanied the crown.

Sinking into a plush chair at the dressing table, your thoughts drifted back to the vivid memories of Ariel – the love that had blossomed between you, and the enchanting melody that had captured your heart. You couldn't help but recall the day she had saved you, the tender touch of her hand as she sang to you, the way she had held you close in her arms. Those memories now intertwined with the weight of your responsibilities, a bittersweet reminder of the love you had to set aside for the sake of the kingdom.

The question lingered in your mind, gnawing at your heart – was this the price of wearing the crown? Were you now destined to sacrifice your own happiness for the sake of a kingdom that demanded everything, even your own heart? The magnitude of the decision weighed heavily on your shoulders, casting shadows over the once-gleaming path you were meant to tread.

Lost in your inner turmoil, you caught a glimpse of your reflection in the grand mirror across the room. The image of the new queen stared back at you, her eyes revealing vulnerability masked by a composed facade. You wondered if anyone could see the turmoil brewing within, the fear of making the wrong choices, and the longing for a simpler life.

With a heavy sigh, you closed your eyes, leaning against the dressing table seeking a moment of peace. When you opened your eyes again and glanced at the mirror, an unexpected sight greeted you – the reflection of Ariel, her image appearing as if she were gently caressing your shoulders and whispering in your ear. Startled, you quickly whipped your head around to see if anyone was with you in the room, but the space remained empty. Rubbing your eyes in disbelief, you couldn't help but chuckle slightly at the surreal experience. Your mind wanders back to Ariel once again.

You would never forget the fervent kisses, scattered like a trail of fire across your body, etched indelibly into your mind. Ariel's tender embrace, as she passionately expressed her love in ways no one else ever had, remained vivid. Her hands enveloped you with tenderness and curiosity, each movement a promise, while the dance of her tongue, an intoxicating symphony of desire, enveloped you in a sensation that felt as if her longing had consumed your very being, propelling you to uncharted heights, a realm of ecstasy before she gently guided you into the cool embrace of the waters. There, her muscular form, usually untouched by warmth, melded with yours, creating a cocoon of closeness that spoke that she doesn't want to ever let you go.

Every morning, as you reluctantly left Ariel's warmth with the rising sun, her tender touches lingered on your body like an ethereal caress. The memory of her feverish kisses, especially the ones trailing across your neck, sent shivers down your spine even in her absence. But it was her melodious chanting in the sea that beckoned you, a siren's call gently urging you to come back to her embrace. As much as you longed to answer that call, you knew you couldn't succumb to its temptation.

The weight of the crown on your head was heavy, Your mother, the queen, had prepared you for the royal role you were destined to fulfill. Yet, the training seemed lacking when it came to matters of the heart. Complications arose as the people of the kingdom impatiently clamored for your marriage, whispering among themselves, eagerly awaiting the day when their future queen would wed, the people's expectations clawing at your back.

You will learn to love him. You remembered Lashana's soft voice as she held you in her warm embrace as you wailed into her chest, soothing your pain with her reassuring voice. The pressure from courtiers and advisors was suffocating, as they pushed you towards a union with the prince of Glowerhaven, but deep down, you knew your heart belonged to Ariel, and no amount of forced affection could change that truth.

Under the shroud of nightfall, you found yourself standing at the water's edge, the waves gently lapping at your feet. The kingdom had settled down for the night, its citizens and tourists all asleep. With a wistful gaze, you stared out at the vast expanse of water that separated you from Ariel's world. The rhythmic sound of the waves seemed to echo her enchanting songs, a constant reminder of the love you could only embrace in secrecy.

Summoning all your courage, you stepped into the sea, feeling the biting cold on your exposed skin. You clenched your teeth, the chill nipping at your lower lip as you endured it for her. For five years, you had been having these clandestine encounters with Ariel, braving the icy waters just to be with her. Waist-deep in the water, you perched on a rock, waiting with bated breath for her arrival.

As the cold seemed to intensify, you pressed your head against the stone, contemplating how to share the news of the arranged wedding with Ariel. Lost in thought, you suddenly noticed movement in the water – a beautiful teal tail adorned with red scales and golden bracelets. A head emerged as searching for someone, wearing a golden crown that shimmered in the moonlight—it was her.

Your tired eyes lit up with affection as you caught sight of Ariel. A smile tugged at your lips when her gaze met yours, Ariel playfully dove back into the water, her lithe form slicing through the moonlit reflection. The sight of her perfect, asymmetrical face and fiery red hair stirred the unquenchable flame of your love. As she approached, it became evident that she intended to playfully tackle you.

"Wait, Ariel, don't—" you called out, but it was too late. With joyous laughter, she leaped into your arms, and together you both sank into the water. Ariel's arms wrapped around your neck, and you opened your eyes underwater, her image slightly distorted but no less beautiful. Her playful spirit prevailed as she pulled you into an underwater kiss, and you tenderly placed your hand on her cheek, reciprocating the love.

As you both resurfaced, gasping for breath but laughing with delight, your foreheads pressed together in an intimate embrace. The reunion after two weeks apart felt like a moment of pure magic, and the joy of being back in each other's arms overwhelmed you. The gentle lapping of the waves served as a soothing backdrop to the emotions swirling between you.

"I missed you so much, Ariel," you said, your voice filled with genuine longing, as you pulled her close, relishing the feeling of her in your arms again. With your head resting on top of hers, you found solace in the intimacy of the embrace, as if no one else existed at that moment except the two of you.

"I missed you too, my love. Two weeks felt like an eternity without you," Ariel whispered her voice tender and filled with warmth. Nuzzling against your neck, she showered you with soft, wet kisses, expressing the depth of her longing and affection. Each touch of her lips on your skin sent delightful shivers down your spine, and you couldn't help but emit a soft whine, overcome by the overwhelming rush of lust you felt for her.

"I have a surprise for you," she murmured, Ariel's lips moved closer to your ear, and her warm breath tickled your skin, making your heart race even faster. "But I'll show it to you later."

Amidst the euphoria of being reunited, you couldn't help but feel a tinge of urgency, knowing that there was something important you needed to share with Ariel. A shadow lingered in the corner of your mind, a haunting thought that had been plaguing your consciousness for too long. As much as you wanted to savor this romantic moment, you knew that sooner or later, you would have to tell her the truth.

"Ariel," you said softly, your voice tinged with vulnerability, she hummed in response still nestled between your neck, "There's something I need to tell you."

"The court put me in an arranged marriage, and I'm getting married in 3 days," you muttered, your voice trembling, and your grip tightened around Ariel's body. Her face was nestled between your neck, planting wet hot kisses, but at the sound of your words, she froze, and her closed eyes shot open, registering the weight of what you said. After a couple of minutes that felt like an eternity, she relaxed again, brushing it off with a laugh.

"Married? Oh, come on, that's ridiculous," Ariel teased with a forced grin, trying not to believe the gravity of the situation. However, when she noticed the seriousness in your expression and the absence of laughter on your lips, her smile faded, and a flicker of something else appeared in her eyes. She continued, her tone gentle as she gently caressed your cheek, "Well... refuse, it's a simple thing to do."

"I can't refuse," you said softly, looking back at her. Her captivating gaze held you captive, and despite the tears that welled up in your eyes, you couldn't look away. Ariel briskly swam away from your embrace, positioning herself in front of you, maintaining that intense eye contact that made it hard to breathe.

"Of course you can…I will make them-" Ariel mumbled out, her irritation evident, but you could also see her fin tail twitching anxiously. Her blue eyes welled up with tears, a mix of frustration and hurt, you could feel the hurt in her voice.

"Ariel, please," you interrupted, mustering all the strength you could find to face the reality of the situation. Your throat tightened, making it difficult to speak, and tears streamed down your face. "You don't even exist for them…"

"So this is it for us?" Ariel asked incredulously, her eyes searching yours for any glimmer of hope. The weight of her question hung heavy in the air, and a mix of emotions flickered across her face – disbelief, sadness, and a tinge of desperation.

"I don't want it to be…uh…I love you Ariel, but I can't simply pass over this," you said, your voice filled with bitterness and desperation. As you looked at her with teary eyes, your breaths came in huffs, and it became increasingly difficult to breathe. You didn't want any of this; you hated seeing the hurt swimming in her eyes. Knowing she might hate you for this only added to your agony, after all, it was your fault-

"Loving someone means going through everything you can imagine, even death... If you can't do this, you can't love," Ariel said angrily through gritted teeth, her teary eyes locking onto yours. Hurt filled your gaze, and you could feel her words striking your heart like a dagger. Your emotions were overwhelming, and tears streamed down your cheeks as you tried to find the strength to respond.

A heavy silence engulfed the air, interrupted only by your sobs and Ariel's heavy breathing. Without a word, Ariel turned away, diving back into the water, swimming away from you. You could only watch helplessly, tears blurring your vision as she distanced herself. In the place where she stood, a shiny object caught your eye, your trembling hands reached for it, revealing a delicate ring. A pink pearl adorned the center, encircled by elegant purple pearls. Your heart sank as you realized what it was –

It was an engagement ring- She was going to propose to you.

"W-WAIT, COME BACK!" you desperately cried out, clutching the ring to your chest as if it held the key to bringing her back. Your breaths came in ragged gasps, and tears blurred your vision, but you continued to call out her name. When it became evident that she wasn't going to return, you sobbed even harder, feeling your vision blur and your breath hitch. You would do anything to make her stay, to mend the wounds that had torn you apart.

"Don't leave me....."

Don'tleavedon'tleavedon'tleavedon'tleavedon'tleavedon'tleavedon'tleavedon'tleavedon'tleavedon'tleavedon'tleavedon'tleavedon'tleavedon'tleavedon'tleavedon'tleavedon'tleavedon'tleavedon'tleavedon'tleavedon'tleavedon'tleavedon'tleavedon'tleavedon'tleavedon'tleavedon'tleavedon'tleavedon'tleavedon'tleavedon'tleavedon'tleavemeDON'T LEAVE ME-

"Your majesty?" Eric whispered, awkwardness evident in his voice as you whipped your head startled to look at him, you noticed that he was concerned.

As you slowly regained consciousness, you found yourself in an unfamiliar place, disoriented and bewildered. The world around you seemed hazy, and a faint static sound echoed in your ears, further adding to the confusion. Turning your head, you noticed Eric standing by your side, his expression a mix of concern and bewilderment.

"Where am I? What's...?" you mumbled, your voice weak and filled with uncertainty. Your memory seemed to be clouded, and you struggled to make sense of your surroundings.

"You're in the church, about to become queen," Eric whispered gently, trying to offer some clarity amidst the fog of confusion. He furrowed his brow, trying to comprehend why you were asking such a question, unsure if you were joking or genuinely unaware of the significance of the moment.

The hushed murmurs and lingering gazes only amplified the pressure you felt. The air seemed thick with anticipation and tension, and you could almost taste the apprehension that hung in the atmosphere. Each whispered word seemed to swirl together, your head began to throb, the pulsating pain mirroring the internal struggle within you. The dizzying array of thoughts and conflicting emotions left you feeling disoriented and on the verge of being consumed by the noise.

"Are you alright? Should i get the doctors?" Eric asked softly, his face etched with worry as he noticed you had been staring at the scepter for quite some time. You glanced around and noticed the people in the room looking at you with pity, causing a tinge of embarrassment to flush your cheeks.

"N-No there's no need I'm alright," you mumbled, forcing a tired smile as you met Eric's gaze. Yet, deep within, a gnawing sense of unease had taken root. Your eyes then returned to the bishop, who held the scepter before you.

You took a deep breath, closing your eyes for a moment, trying to steady yourself. You reminded yourself of the reason you were here – to make the right choice for yourself and for the kingdom, to follow your heart even in the face of opposition.

As your outstretched hand tremulously reached for the scepter, an eerie chill swept through your bones, sending shivers down your spine. The air seemed to thicken with an intangible unease, and a voice inside your mind whispered doubtfully, questioning the morality of your actions. The gravity of the moment weighed heavily on your conscience, leaving you in a state of peculiar detachment from the reality that once felt so familiar. The allure of power clashed with the pangs of uncertainty, entangling you in a web of conflicting emotions, making you question if this path was truly meant for you.

Amid this disconcerting moment, a thousand unblinking eyes fixated upon you. However, their gazes appeared surreal, mere specters dancing at the fringes of your vision. The momentous occasion should have been filled with grandeur and significance, yet an inexplicable sense of isolation pervaded your being. As the ornate crown was reverently placed upon your head, a resounding applause erupted around you, signifying that you're their new queen. But the jubilation felt distant, drowned in a disconcerting symphony of static that seemed to echo within your mind, your throat tightened, and panic clawed at you, but you forced yourself to maintain the regal smile.

You now stood alone, with no one genuinely on your side.

𝑻𝑨𝑮𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻...

@yuugen-benni

𝗔𝗹𝗹 𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁𝘀 𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗲𝗿𝘃𝗲𝗱 © 2023 𝗩𝘀𝗸𝗸𝗼𝗹𝘆𝗮𝗮. 𝗣𝗹𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗲 𝗱𝗼 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗰𝗼𝗽𝘆, 𝗿𝗲𝗽𝗼𝘀𝘁, 𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗻𝘀𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗲, 𝗼𝗿 𝗺𝗼𝗱𝗶𝗳𝘆 𝗺𝘆 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗸𝘀 𝗼𝗻 𝗮𝗻𝘆 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗺.

[brabblesblog]

Ch 11: I will both lay me down in peace, and sleep: for thou only makest me dwell in safety.

Astarion has ascended, and she has stayed with him. Life in the Crimson Palace isn’t as idyllic as it seems. Is there a chance for their relationship to go back to how it was? Or is it too late for the Ascendant and his consort?

This series is about Ban, my Tav, and the Vampire Ascendant. Will be angst and smut, with sprinkles of fluff.

This fic is a softer take on Ascendant!Astarion and of the changes he undergoes after the rite. Can Ban handle the change, and if a chance came, would she choose to run? And can the Ascendant win her back in time? Inspired by the concept of vampire wives and that IGN interview with Larian that discussed the ascension.

Professionally edited by @editing-by-night

Astarion and Ban finally strike that balance in their relationship. But however long will this newfound happiness last?

Read on AO3.

Masterlist.

Astarion looked over at her at dinner, a smile pasted on his face in a feeble attempt to hide his inner turmoil. These past two tendays, Ban had taken to coming over during the day then leaving for the night. It was an extraordinary thing; he could feel her slowly warming up to him again. Their days had been spent with the same scheming they’d always done, with some modifications to their approach. The Ascendant had been making attempts to increase her public involvement, including her in the negotiations, making sure that she was heard and that the patriars and businessmen who dealt with them knew to pay her respect - if not quite to the same degree they afforded him.

In between these meetings had been passionate trysts, which had also improved; gone was the coldness that had permeated their bedroom for so long. She was there, with him in mind as well as body, and Astarion had almost forgotten how that felt, save for in the depths of his dreams and memories. Their first few times in the wilds had been contaminated by his own less-than-altruistic intentions… and then there’d been those desperate, painful nights after the rite and after the Absolute’s defeat. The only times that had felt anywhere close to these two tendays were those evenings in between, beneath the cloak of the Shadow-Cursed lands, when their relationship had held so much promise.

As a result Astarion found a spring in his step; allowing himself to enjoy moments as they came. He felt less and less need to keep his walls up, his desire to cement his progress at winning Ban back making it easier and easier. For the first time in his life things had begun sliding into place.

He could reach for her, and she’d be there - in meetings, in the streets, in the halls of their home, just as happy to be with him as he was with her. These days had felt like a dream, and he’d often mulled over telling her that it almost made everything else he’d suffered these past two centuries worth it. There was still a way to go yet; her trust in him wasn’t anywhere near absolute, but he thought they were on the right path.

But then there had been the nights.

Tossing and turning, unable to fall into trance. Hours of staring up at the ceiling, begging for rest to finally take him. Nightmares - of Cazador, of Ban’s cold gaze, of waking up that day after the reunion to find her gone.

He’d taken to sleeping on the floor again, carefully hiding the blanket and pillows away at dawn so she wouldn’t see them when she came over; he messed up the sheets and laid on the bed to make it seem like he’d slept there. The floor was, in some ways, a comfortable and familiar presence - reminiscent of those nights inside his tent, those nights when they were actually happy.

“Will you stay with me tonight?” The question slipped out of his mouth before he could rein it in. He quickly took a sip of his wine, hiding most of his face with the goblet.

Ban turned to him, an amused glint in her eyes. “Can’t get enough? I’m not surprised,” she drawled, in a sardonic approximation of his voice.

He rolled his eyes at her over the rim of his goblet, then downed the rest of the wine.

“And if I can’t? If I want you by my side forever - would that be so wrong?”

“No,” she said immediately, still smiling. She thought he was merely playing, and he was glad of it. She needn’t know how miserable these nights had been for him.

“Still. Only for tonight,” she added, not wanting to get his hopes up.

If this hurt him, he hid it exceedingly well, smiling at her in apparent delight.

She tried to smile back, but Astarion noticed something off. Ban’s smiles were a little different than before, he was well aware. The trials of their relationship had all but ensured that. But there was something more to this particular smile.

It didn't reach her eyes.

“There’s something wrong, isn’t there?” He scanned her face, eyes darting over her features, and try as she might to hide away, he could tell he was right.

“You’re not happy. Not really.” It wasn’t a question. He felt the urge to snap, to ask her exactly what more he could be doing for her, but he tamped it down. The feeling, however, brought up the rather unpleasant sensation of his heart being held hostage to her whims yet again.

“What’s wrong?” His tone was colder than he would like. He tried again. “Ban. Please.”

She averted her gaze, fixing her eyes on his chin. “I thought I missed him. I missed what we had,” she finally said, “And more and more often now, I can see him. He’s you. He’s always been you.” There was a pregnant pause as she pondered what she was actually trying to say.

“But then if you’re him… then he’s not really who I thought he was, was he? He hurt me too, because you hurt me.”

Ban was just now realizing she’d put her Astarion on a pedestal, her earlier memories of him being idealized by comparisons to when he’d been at his worst. But he had always been imperfect, at times callous, even cruel. She’d ignored that in her desire to return him to who he’d been.

Her words felt like they were strangling the life from him; his chest tightened and his first instinct was to hurt her back. But it only crossed his mind for an instant, and he shook his head to clear it.

“So.” He thought over her words. “You’re only here because I’m the closest thing to what you thought I was. You’re settling.” The realization wasn’t new; he’d always known. But to finally have it confirmed when he thought so much progress had been made felt like he was being ripped to pieces.

“No.” She shook her head. “I’m not settling. I’m just mourning.”

He bristled at that, but mostly kept it out of his voice. “Mourning what? Because I thought we established that I’m not two separate people, Ban.” His tone shifted a little at the end as he couldn’t quite keep the exasperation out of his voice. He waved a hand in frustration. “This is me. You’re grieving something that does not exist - has never existed.”

“I’m just mourning that we didn’t end up the way I thought we would. That you’re not really who I thought you were, even at the start. I’ve always been blinded by your charm,” she admitted, “I bought every lie you threw my way, and with every layer I uncovered, there were more.”

She had been sitting on this for a while, unsure how to bring it up without infuriating him. But she needed to say it before committing herself further.

“I accept you. All of you. Your light, your dark. I see you - I see kindness and goodness, but I also see selfishness. Ruthlessness. I can’t help but be sad about it at times. Is that fair?”

She watched as his expression changed from indignation to one that he rarely showed unrestrained, even with her - anguish.

“It’s fair,” he concurred. He reached out to take her hand, squeezing it.

“Ban.” He weighed the words he was about to say, then steeled his nerves. “I’m not… good. Never was. But I do try, at least when it comes to you.”

Because she deserved it. Because if she left him again, there would honestly be nothing else to live for. But that didn't mean it didn’t hurt - that the days since his ascension hadn’t killed him as much as they had her.

“Can I show you something, love?” he asked. He didn’t trust his voice to carry the weight of what he wanted to convey. He could feel her pain, comprehend it, and all he wanted was for her to see his.

He tentatively opened his mind to hers; when she allowed him in, he slowly poured his feelings into her - the indignation, the terror, the ache - the shame.

He let her see the overwhelming feeling of power, of being free for the first time, so intense that it had almost eclipsed everything else. How it all soured, burned away by the pain in the memories of her withdrawing from him and finally leaving him that flashed over their shared connection. Finally, there was that gaping, yawning chasm of his heart, a loneliness that had only recently started to abate and that threatened to overwhelm him every time he was parted from her, opening whenever she departed like a festering wound.

She gasped a little at the flood of emotions, then quickly severed the bond. Ban took a nervous drink from her goblet. She’d been so consumed by her own heartache that she had missed his.

“Astarion, I-”

He cut her off, shaking his head. The hand on hers squeezed tightly.

“Don’t say anything. I don’t deserve it.” The Ascendant gave himself a moment to calm. Were he a more selfless person, this would be where he would offer her a chance to leave. As it was, he was completely silent, eyes downcast, staring at his half-eaten dinner.

But even if he didn’t say anything, Ban knew. All she had to do was ask, and he would give it. He would give her anything.

“I’ll stay over tonight,” she repeated, not knowing what more to say.

Ban yawned, fluffing her pillow before settling down. She was exhausted, the day having been full of the most mundane meetings they’d had in a while. Astarion followed suit, lying on his back beside her, a gap between them.

She watched as he stared up at the ceiling and exhaled, closing his eyes. He was positioned in such a way that it made her think he was about to go into trance, but the way his bare chest rose and fell told her he was anything but close to repose. She let her hand rise, hovering over his chest for the briefest of moments, then lowered it to make contact. Her palm gently pressed against the center of his chest; she could feel his rapid breathing and his racing heart.

He opened his eyes at her touch, the tension easing somewhat as he felt her hand on him.

“Apologies,” he said, swallowing. His voice came out rough. “I’m not used to having someone around.” A poor excuse, considering they’d been sleeping in a shared space ever since he’d confessed his feelings in the Shadow-Cursed lands. At the shake of her head and her disbelieving gaze, he exhaled. Sometimes he wished she wasn’t so perceptive.

“Just tell me. There’s no one here.” Ban scooted closer, pressing against his body, slipping the hand on his chest down to his waist. Her head rested on his shoulder.

“No more walls, Astarion. Not with me.” She had an idea of what the problem was, but she needed it to be his choice to open up.

He bit his lip, briefly considering brushing her off, a reaction borne of habit. He pushed the idea away. “I don’t… rest very well,” he admitted, “Not since you left.” Her hand over his stomach felt nice, but it didn’t completely ease the tightness he felt all over his body.

“And so you’ve come to dread falling into trance.”

He nodded at her words, eyes finally meeting hers.

“What do you usually do to relieve stress?” she asked, her fingers tracing over the planes of his abdomen, moving a little lower to trace a hipbone.

“Before we started talking again, I slept with others, as you know,” he began carefully, “I never finished with them. I couldn’t. I would send them away and try to take care of myself. Now that you come see me daily,” he smiled, aiming for seductive but ending up more sweet than anything, “It’s… easier to get my needs met, but I still occasionally do touch myself to just-”

He waved a hand awkwardly, gesturing at himself. To not think. To just be.

“I can help,” Ban offered, her hand stilling on his hip, awaiting permission. Before he could say anything, she continued. “Just this, nothing more. You can come, and then you can rest.” Let me help you.

Astarion considered this for a moment. He wanted nothing more, and yet his mind resisted, resisted the idea that it would be all for him. But he looked to her and saw her eagerness to touch him, to help, and his reluctance faded in the face of it.

Swallowing, he nodded.

Ban smiled, and let her hand drift lower, very gently touching him. She found him soft, delicately wrapping her fingers around his length.

He took a deep breath, eyes locking onto her, a mix of arousal and apprehension evident in his gaze.

“Relax,” she urged, “Close your eyes, and just focus on how this feels.”

With that, the Ascendant, the most powerful vampire in the realms, let his eyes fall shut and surrendered himself to his beloved.

The feeling was delicious. He could feel her hand caressing him from base to tip, his cock rapidly hardening under her touch. He felt a bead of moisture form on the tip; she quickly swiped it with her thumb to spread it, sending shivers through him.

“You’re perfect,” she whispered, kissing her way down his chest. Her lips captured his nipple, suckling, and the sensation made him buck. A low whine escaped his lips at the praise, his cock throbbing in her grasp, his arousal only growing.

Ban took it slow, her strokes soft and almost frustratingly unhurried. Astarion tried to roll his hips, seeking more friction, but she touched his hip with her other hand, a gentle admonishment that had him stilling immediately.

The feeling of her mouth suckling at his nipple and of her hand wrapped around his cock were all that filled his mind. There was no worry about what terrors the night would bring, no worry about what tomorrow may hold. No fear that he’d wake to find her gone again. His cock pulsed almost painfully in Ban’s grasp, wanting, needing more.

“Please,” he whispered, keeping his eyes shut. He no longer found shame in begging when it came to her, knowing she would take care of him and give him what he needed. In response to his plea, Ban’s hand sped up, twisting in the way she knew he liked with every pass. Astarion parted his lips, panting quietly.

His legs spread further apart, thighs twitching and toes beginning to curl. His breathing was a loud, needy thing; his hand rose to cup the back of Ban’s head, gently nudging her off of his nipple and towards the center of his chest.

“I’m close,” he said softly. His eyes opened, fixing her with a gaze so intense she could almost physically feel it.

“Listen, please. To my heart.” She hadn’t done it in so long, laid her head against his center and the memory of when she had last done it without prompting sent a wave of pain through him.

“It’s yours, Ban. It- I need you,” he added.

The last time she had laid on him like that unasked was the night before they’d confronted Cazador. She had held him close the entire time, and had fallen asleep to the slow thrum of his then-undead heart as they’d rested in their shared bed at the Elfsong.

“Whatever happens tomorrow,” she said, nuzzling into his chest. “I’ve got you.”

He asked her what she thought, what her ideas were regarding the rite. But she was cagey and rather noncommittal.

“All I ever want is your happiness, Astarion. Whatever shape or form it might take.” She was idly drawing circles on his chest with her index finger, her head rising and falling with his breaths.

“You said we shouldn’t condemn my poor brothers and sisters,” he countered. It irked him to hear her say it, but he’d brought it up in the spirit of honesty.

“Because that ought to be what I want to say.”

“Then what do you really want to say?”

“As long as you’re happy, I couldn’t care less.”

Words she’d ultimately regretted, true, but she’d meant them without reservations at the time.

She had always put him first. Above all - above the gods, above her own admittedly limited morality. Above herself.

Everything had fallen apart after that.

Astarion’s request brought a small smile to her lips. “I’d be more than happy to.” She settled her ear over his sternum, and the speed of his rapidly-beating heart took her by surprise.

The heart that beat under her ear now was the very same heart, but its rhythm was entirely different. It galloped now, as a living heart would. It didn’t faze her - in fact, it sent a small shiver of lust through her, realizing just how much he was enjoying this. Enjoying her. She could feel the vein in his cock pulsing with every heartbeat; she positioned her thumb to feel it better. She increased the pace, his cock hot and throbbing, silky skin pleasant in her hand.

Astarion had fallen mostly silent, small whimpers and gasps the only noises emanating from him. He just existed, just felt. His toes curled tighter, and he shook his head from side to side, biting his lip as he felt his orgasm approach.

“Ban-” It was all the warning he could give before he erupted, his cock throbbing with each spurt of hot, glistening come. His mouth opened in a wordless snarl of pleasure, his back arching. He spilled all over his abdomen and her hand, shuddering weakly, his eyes still shut.

Ban stroked him through his climax, then stilled, her hand remaining wrapped around him as he came down from his high. Her head, pressed against his chest the entire time by his hand, stayed over his heart, hearing it race ever faster as he orgasmed, then slowly settle as he recovered.

He opened his eyes to see her peeking up at his face, and he smiled, breathless. He’d had so many moments with her, but it was almost as if he was seeing her for the first time.

“I love you,” he murmured, and he meant it with every fiber of his being. He had refrained from saying it ever since they had begun trying to repair their relationship, knowing that those words had been cheapened when he’d first ascended.

He’d used them to manipulate her, and he had sworn to himself that he wouldn’t use them again until he truly meant it.

Ban smiled shyly, letting go of his softening cock. She shifted, pressing a gentle kiss over his chest. She didn’t answer him, unsure if she was ready for him to hear that yet. But in her mind she thought it back. I love you too.

She’d never stopped loving him. She’d whispered it to him when she’d last slept over. She thought it to herself whenever they parted for the day.

Instead of saying anything, she sat up and cupped his cheek. He leaned heavily into the touch, his eyes beginning to droop, as if he wanted nothing more than to close them and rest.

“Let me clean you up, and then we can sleep.”

Ban left the bed to grab a fresh towel and wet it in the bathroom, then came back to clean him off. By the time she’d finished he was already in trance, his eyes closed and a small smile on his face.

She curled up next to him, took one last look at his peaceful expression, and closed her own eyes.

The next thing Ban heard was a loud, panicked shout.

“Let me go! No!”

It was his voice. Ban opened her eyes, and realized Astarion was thrashing in the bed, attempting to protect himself from something.

She’d seen him have nightmares before, but this one seemed particularly bad. She reached out, trying to grasp his shoulders. “Astarion? It’s okay. You’re okay.” As she moved closer, however, his clawed hands struck out desperately, scratching her face hard enough to draw blood.

“I said let me go!”

The smell of her blood hit his nose, and his eyes flew open. He’d recognize that bouquet anywhere, and it had snapped him out of his nightmare.

It took him a moment. He blinked, staring at her bloodied face, even as the cuts began to heal. His eyes widened as the realization set in. He had hurt her yet again, even as he had been trying so hard to be better. He had failed.

“Ban, I… I had a nightmare… and I didn’t…”

His voice trailed off, panic settling in. His hands cupped her face, trembling fingers tracing over the now-sealed cuts.

Gods, please. Don’t leave me. Not again.

She didn’t hesitate, covering his hands with her own. “It’s alright, Astarion. I know.” As if reading his mind, she placed a kiss over his forehead and murmured “I’m not leaving you,” again and again, until she could feel the tension melt from his body.

A small gasp broke the silence and he hugged her tightly, holding her close to his body, terrified that if he let go she would disappear.

“Swear it,” he said, and there was a hint of the Ascendant’s aggression there. But Ban knew it to be borne out of fear, knew he needed reassurance more than anything.

“I swear.” She contemplated her words for a moment, and then finally said what she’d been keeping to herself for so long.

“I love you, Astarion. I swear I’m staying.”

He met her gaze, drinking in her promise, drinking in her love. That ravenous hole in his heart felt full, for once, and he released the breath he’d been holding. He finally started to calm, and his lips found hers, capturing them in a kiss that didn’t indicate a need for sex, but was rather a gesture of love.

The kiss ended and he pulled his face away with a shy smile. “Thank you,” he managed, arms still holding her close. That was all he intended to say, at first.

But his mind raced ahead of him, and his next words spilled out before he could really think about them.

“Then come home, Ban.”

She stared at him for a long moment, and he averted his gaze, eyes wide and almost tearful. He was awaiting her rejection, his body tensing in anticipation of the blow.

Instead she brought a hand to his chin, turning it so he had to face her.

“Alright,” she said, nodding. “I’ll move back.”

They held each other, and fell into the warm embrace of rest in each other’s arms. There were so many ways this could have fallen apart, and yet here they were - broken souls finding a small semblance of peace in each other. For once there were no games, no manipulation. The masks were gone, and it was just them.

For however long this peace lasted, they were content.

[thephoenixandthecrocodile]

Here is the first chapter of my Celebrimbor and Adar fic. It’s my first fic I’ve ever written in the LOTR/ROP world, so please be gentle. Also it hasn’t been beta read yet so please ignore the typos if you see any. 😅

@braveburattino @angel-astre @adventurepunks

A Light in Dark Places - Chapter One: Escape into the Hands of my Enemy’s Enemy

He’d done it. Not only had he escaped the dark lord, but he carried the Deceiver’s great prize with him and it had only required the sacrifice of his right thumb. Maybe it was the shock from the wound or the neverending dizzy effect of being trapped in the Deceiver’s illusion for Eru knew how long, but Celebrimbor, Lord of Eregion, stumbled out of the forge’s side exit and down the stone steps he carved himself, feeling like a barrel riding down a rushing river. The world no longer knew how to provide stability. The smell of smoke, burnt flesh, and fresh blood burnt his nostrils and coated his mouth with the taste of iron. He reached the bottom of the stairs and staggered to the railing of the inner curtain wall, staring at the horror and bloodshed. How many times had he watched the downfall of a once glorious and peaceful city? How many times has he witnessed a lord’s arrogance and foolishness condemn his people to desecration and death?

Eregion’s screams merged with the phantom screams of Gondolin and Nargothrond and he was torn between being the lord who brought this upon his own people and being a young, lost Elf who had disowned his own family and followed the orders of kings who were supposed to know better.

He should have known better.

Why would the Valar ever grace his family with gifts when there were parts of Middle-Earth that still oozed with the blood his uncles and grandfather had shed?

Celebrimbor so desperately wanted to believe that he was different.

A crash and the air rushed from his lungs as he tumbled head first downwards into darkness.

First there was body wide pain, as if he had been thrown through a stone wall; then there were muffled, exasperated voices. Barely familiar voices. Voices that should have brought comfort and relief, but their unfriendliness only sent a spike through his heart.

“Look what he’s done to himself.”

Words formed in the darkness.

“Take him back.”

Terror broke through his dazed confusion as his eyes shot open and his arms registered being grabbed and he was lifted from the ground.

“No!” he cried, using what strength he had left to escape the guard’s grasp, but only managing to barely shift his arms.

Still dizzy, still in pain, still pathetically weak. The great son of Curufin, a confused, blubbering mess being carted back to his own prison where he would once more be trapped with the cruel slave of Morgoth.

“No,” he said, firmer, finding ground to plant his feet on. “I will not go back.”

He pulled one arm free and shoved the other guard aside, his eyes widening as he realized he was no longer holding the pouch with the nine rings.

“No, no, no,” he muttered as he flung himself to the ground and sifted through the rubble. “It will not be for nothing.”

He hissed as dirt entered his open wound where his thumb once existed, but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered but the rings. Harsh words and harsher attempts to drag him to his feet, but the violent strength of his father at the mere mention of a Silmaril coursed through his veins and he broke through their grasps.

He cried in desperate joy as he spotted the pouch underneath a piece of rubble. A swift rush of wind, a cry, and the heavy thud of a body covered in armor fell to the ground, followed by several other cries.

Celebrimbor pulled and shifted and twisted the pouch until it finally broke free from the rubble, knocking him backwards onto his rear. He hugged the pouch to his chest and rose to a crouching position before noticing the arrow head pointed at him. His eyes traced up the bow, over the gnarly hands and scarred, disgusting arms into the dark and merciless eyes of an Orc. Instantly, he understood, his guards were dead and he was surrounded by the broken souls Morgoth tortured beyond recognition. This was how it would end then? A swift arrow to the chest and the pathetic and pitiful tale of Celebrimbor would conclude with the nine rings returning to the Deceiver’s hands and Middle-Earth taken over by darkness.

Anger and desperation fueled his reckless rise to his feet, standing like the proud Elven prince that he was, daring the Orc to take his life as his eyes searched for a way to escape. Could he make a run for it? Shock the Orcs by rushing the one in front of him, sprinting across the broken courtyard, arrow after arrow piercing his back, relying on his will alone to carry him to a friendly face, ideally Galadriel or Elrond or even Gil-Galad, placing the rings in their trustworthy hands and finally leaving Middle-Earth to rejoin his family in the Halls of Mandos and beyond. If he could do that, then maybe the storytellers and poets and songwriters would treat him with some kindness and forgiveness. Maybe he would be remembered as something more than an arrogant prince who replicated his father’s and grandfather’s worst atrocities, never any of their marvels.

A tall, gangly Orc with long ears that fit uncomfortably under his chainmail hood rested a hand on the bow wielding Orc’s arm, lowering the weapon, and spoke in Black Speech, burning Celebrimbor’s ears. Shifting of metal as Orcs tightened their circle around him and grabbed his arms. No, not again. He would never be another’s prisoner again. He slipped through their grasp and charged forward.

A powerful blow to the chest and he was once more on the ground, gasping for air. More powerful blows and he shifted and covered his head with one hand, holding the pouch of rings to his chest with the other, and coughed up blood. Black speech ceased the blows and he was dragged to his feet once more. The gangly Orc gestured at him, his words cut off by a scream that caused all of Middle-Earth to tremble in fear and froze Celebrimbor’s blood in his veins.

Help me, Eru and Manwe, he knows I’ve escaped.

The gangly orc snapped in Black Speech and the Orcs holding Celebrimbor by the arms, lifted him off the ground and ran away from the burning, shattered courtyard and the great Deceiver’s wrath.

Celebrimbor forced himself to look at the mangled and bloody corpses of his fallen people as the Orcs carried him through the destroyed streets of Eregion. He had once prided himself on knowing the name of every one of his citizens. Now, that knowledge plunged him into despair as he whispered the names of those who had been slaughtered because of his foolishness. They ran through one of the breaches in his stone walls and across the ongoing battlefield that had once been a river: Glanduin. How clear its waters, how soothing its taste, how full of life it had once been. Kingfishers, beavers, dragonflies, and others once crowded its shores and brought music and magic to the world. Now it was all gone, replaced by filth, flames, smoke, blood, and death.

A handful of Elves in golden armor vainly fought the roaring waves of the Orc legion.

Lindon

Then Gil-galad was near. Celebrimbor called out to the Elves, but the din of battle drowned out his words and his Orc captors smacked him across the face every time he opened his mouth.

Through the chaos and carnage they ran; into the dark forest that rested on Glanduin’s former shores, the stench of Orc almost causing Celebrimbor to vomit. Makeshift and frequently mended tents, trebuchets, firepits, and snarling, marching Orcs rushed past them as they carried Celebrimbor to the center of their camp. He was placed back on his feet in a small clearing, but the Orc’s kept a tight hold on his arms, wrenching them to his side. The gangly Orc stepped forward and immediately reached for the pouch containing the nine rings.

“No!” Celebrimbor yelled, gathering whatever strength remained in his bloodline and wrenched free from his captors, pushed the gangly orc out of the way, and ran straight into what felt like a tree.

He staggered backwards and a strange pair of hands - one of flesh and one of metal - grabbed his arms to steady him.

“Adar,” said one of the Orcs behind him.

Adar?

Celebrimbor stared into the dark, soulful eyes of a creature that was not quite Orc and not quite Elf. His black eyes smoldered with grief that would bring even the Deceiver to tears and anger that felt on the verge of incinerating Celebrimbor with one glance. The being’s long, matted black hair framed his thin, weary, and beaten face. Ancient, raised scars peeked through the being’s dark strands. The being’s waxen pale face contained the pain Celebrimbor’s entire body felt but also reminded him of his uncle Maedhros after being rescued from Morgoth’s grasp. That distant agony that could not find expression in any language of Middle-Earth or, maybe even Valinor. Stranger still, the being wore the silver armor of the Beleriand soldiers, the rivers of Beleriand gently streaming down his chest, comforting Celebrimbor’s racing heart and mind.

Adar spoke, but Celebrimbor did not hear his words. He heard only the being’s voice as deep as the unexplored caverns of Khazad-dum and as soft as a rabbit’s tail.

For a moment Celebrimbor forgot about his pain, his despair, and his loss. For a moment, he felt safe.

“This elf has something of Sauron’s,” claimed the Orc behind him. “I felt his dark presence.”

Celebrimbor’s knees gave out as the last few weeks collapsed into his shoulders and he could not prevent his sobs nor his frantic thoughts swirling around one incessant demand: run.

[infamous-light]

Captured Part V

Dark! Wandanat x Villain/Mutant! F! Reader

Ch. 1 Ch. 2 Ch. 3 Ch. 4

AO3: Captured

Summary: You and your mutant friends have been in hiding due to the havoc you all wreaked over the past few years. One day, you all decided to make your presence known and rob one of the largest federal reserve banks in the U.S.

Unfortunately, things did not go as planned for you.

Word count: 3.2K

Warnings: Mind manipulation, kidnapping, suggestive themes

You found yourself sinking into the familiar embrace of the couch once more, the weight of the day settling heavily upon your shoulders. Tension coiled in your stomach like a tightly wound spring but the soft cushions beneath you cradled your body, offering some semblance of comfort in the midst of this turmoil.

The movie flickered on the screen, but its sound blended into the background as your mind was elsewhere, replaying snippets of the conversation you overheard between Natasha and Wanda a moment ago. You tried to focus on the movie, but every scene was a blur as your thoughts swirled with uncertainty and fear.

With a deep sigh, you closed your eyes, trying to push away the thoughts that threatened to overwhelm you. You desperately needed a moment of respite, so you decided to focus on regulating your breathing, attempting to calm your nerves. Each inhalation brought a fleeting sense of peace, while each exhale released a fraction of the pent-up tension.

But just as you began to ease your anxiety, the abrupt shuffle of footsteps outside the living room door shattered the fragile bubble of solitude you had constructed. Your ears perked up at the faintest hint of movement, a skill honed through years of evading capture and navigating the shadows. Like a seasoned fugitive, your eyes snapped open with a primal instinct, instantly alert to the slightest threat or opportunity that presented itself.

With practiced ease, you arranged your features into a calm façade, smoothing out any trace of the inner conflict that twisted within.

As Natasha and Wanda entered the living room, their chatter broke through the heavy silence that had enveloped you. Wanda’s gaze landed on you, her eyes alight with a playful twinkle as she greeted you with a light-hearted comment, “Did we miss anything important? Or were we just in time for the best part?”

Natasha chuckled, shaking her head. “Knowing our luck, we probably did.”

You forced a smile, trying to push aside the unease that gnawed at your insides. “No, you're just in time.”

You were sandwiched between Natasha and Wanda a moment later, their presence enveloping you in a stifling heat that made your skin prickle with discomfort.

Natasha leaned against your left side, her familiar scent of jasmine and sandalwood filling your senses. Her arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer as she rested her head on your shoulder.

On your right, Wanda snuggled up against you, her touch sending a tingle down your back. Her fingers intertwined with yours, creating an intimate connection that should stir something within you, but it didn’t.

Every instinct in your body screamed at you to escape their proximity, to flee from the looming threat they posed. But you remained frozen, unable to tear yourself away from them.

Every moment felt like an eternity as you wrestled with the urgent need to plan your escape. The longer you stayed here, the more likely they were to notice something was amiss with you. You knew you had to act fast, to devise a plan that would allow you to slip away unnoticed. Every movement had to be calculated, every word carefully chosen to maintain the façade of normalcy.

You surveyed the living room with a veneer of collectedness, your eyes darting discreetly from one corner to another, cataloging every detail. Despite the pressing nature of the situation, you maintained an air of calculated control, aware that any sign of agitation could betray your intentions to Natasha and Wanda.

The lack of a window only heightened your sense of desperation. The stale air seemed to press down on you, suffocating any hope of escape.

Lost in your thoughts, you barely noticed as the movie reached the end credits. Natasha and Wanda shifted on the couch, their movements slow and relaxed as they tried to find a more comfortable position. Wanda spoke up, breaking the silence that had settled over the living room.

“Well, that was a fun movie,” she said, her eyes sparkling with delight as she turned to you and Natasha. “Don't you think?”

You hummed in agreement, giving Wanda a small smile.

Natasha’s gaze flickered toward you, her eyes searching yours for a moment before she reached out to squeeze your left thigh.

“You look tired, honey,” she said quietly. “I think we should go to bed.”

To be honest, you did feel tired. Your eyelids drooped with weariness and every muscle in your body ached with fatigue. You knew that in order to execute your escape plan successfully, you needed to be well-rested and sharp.

“Yeah, I am actually.” You admitted with a faint smile.

As you stood up, Natasha's slender fingers intertwined with yours. The softness of her skin against yours was smooth and warm as she led you toward the bedroom. The gentle pressure against your right arm startled you momentarily and you glanced sideways to see that Wanda's arm had looped with yours.

Wanda smiled at you. Slowly, she leaned in, her delicate scent filling your senses before her lips planted a kiss on your cheek. A flutter of conflicting emotions erupted within you like a storm brewing beneath calm waters. On the one hand, her affection was comforting but on the other hand, it felt inherently wrong.

Each kiss, each embrace, only served as a painful reminder of the truth you were desperately trying to uncover.

For now, you returned Wanda's affection while silently plotting your escape.

***

As you slowly awakened, you found yourself nestled between Natasha and Wanda.

Natasha's arm was currently draped over your waist protectively, her hair spilling across the pillow in a cascade of red locks. Beside you, Wanda lay peacefully asleep. Her face was buried in the crook of your neck, her soft hair tickling your skin with every exhale.

The rhythmic sound of their breathing reached your ears, a soothing lullaby that almost put you back to sleep. But the gentle stirrings of wakefulness nudged you into action, reminding you of what needed to be done.

To escape.

There wasn’t a moment to slip out of bed unnoticed as both Natasha and Wanda stirred almost simultaneously, their eyelids fluttering open in sync. Natasha's gaze met yours first, a glint of mischief dancing in her eyes as she stretched her lithe frame.

“Good morning.” She murmured, her voice husky with sleep as her hand reached out to brush a stray strand of hair from your face.

On the other side, Wanda’s eyelids continued to blink away the remnants of sleep. Her expression softened into a gentle smile as she became fully aware of her surroundings.

Wanda reached out instinctively, her hand finding yours. “Morning, love.”

“Good morning.” You said in a low tone as you began to rise from the bed, but Natasha's hands gripped your shoulders, pushing you back down onto the mattress.

You let out a surprised gasp. Her lips curled into a sly grin as she leaned in, her breath warm against your ear.

“Where do you think you're going?” Natasha purred.

She straddled you in one swift move, allowing her weight to settle onto your hips. Your eyes were immediately drawn to the curve of her breasts, the soft swell inviting your gaze. The thin tank top she wore did very little to conceal their ample size as they strained against the fabric, begging to be set free. Even the faint outline of her nipples teased through the material, a tantalizing hint of the hardened peaks that awaited beneath.

As Natasha leaned in closer, her body pressing against yours, your eyes drifted downward, drawn to the sight of her tiny shorts. The material clung to her hips, riding up to reveal the smooth expanse of her thighs with every movement.

Natasha's gaze was intense, her eyes burning with a primal hunger as she now caged you in, her lips hovering just an inch away from yours.

And then, in a heartbeat, her lips closed the distance. The taste of her lips, sweet and inviting, ignited a fire within you that threatened to consume all rational thought. Her tongue danced with yours, exploring every inch of your mouth with a hunger that matched your own.

But even in the midst of passion, a small voice whispered in the back of your mind, urging you to stop this.

“Natasha-” You attempted to interject between kisses, but she was lost in the heat of the moment, her desire fueling her actions.

Her breath mingled with yours, hot and needy, as she pressed her body against your front, her curves fitting perfectly against your own. You turned your face to the right to break the kiss, but Natasha followed, her lips trailing a path of fiery kisses along your jawline. Your hands reached up to push Natasha's shoulders, attempting to create some distance between you two.

As you struggled to maintain your composure, you heard a soft chuckle from your right side. Glancing over, you saw Wanda resting on one of her elbows, amusement shining behind her eyes as she observed you and Natasha.

She clearly wasn’t going to help you.

“Natasha, please, I need to use the bathroom.” You whined, desperation lacing your voice.

It was the only thing you could think of to pry yourself away from her relentless advances.

Natasha’s gaze darkened with a mix of desire and frustration, but she acquiesced, albeit reluctantly. You could sense her impatience, her hunger for more.

“Alright.” She muttered; her voice was laced with a hint of disappointment as she allowed you to slip out from underneath her grasp.

You picked up some clothes from the dresser and slipped into the bathroom, closing the door behind you. The soft click of the latch echoed in the small space as you let out a breath you didn't realize you were holding.

You stood before the bathroom sink, feeling the weight of the moment pressing down on your shoulders like a heavy burden. Your hands trembled slightly as you reached out to turn on the faucet, the sound of rushing water filling the silence of the bathroom.

As the cool water cascaded into your cupped hands, you couldn’t help but notice how your fingers quivered with nervous energy. You splashed the water onto your face, hoping to calm the racing thoughts and the pounding of your heart but the anxiety gnawed at you relentlessly, refusing to be quelled by a mere splash of water.

The memory of their conversation kept echoing in your mind. They want to fake your death, have you vanished into obscurity.

With trembling hands, you reached for a towel to dry off, the fabric rough against your sensitive skin. You took a moment to compose yourself before getting dressed, slipping into fresh clothes.

Exiting the bathroom, your steps faltered as you were met with the sight of Natasha and Wanda, both clad in various stages of undress. Natasha's curves were accentuated by a lacy black ensemble, while Wanda's slender frame was adorned in sheer red lace that left little to the imagination.

“I'll meet you both in the kitchen.” You managed to choke out, your voice strained with discomfort.

Their gazes locked onto you, Wanda's dark with desire, her eyes smoldering with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. Natasha, on the other hand, frowned, a hint of frustration flickering across her features as she watched you.

“We promise we won’t take too long.” Wanda purred, giving you a playful wink.

Heat spread up your neck as you gave her an awkward smile, feeling the weight of Wanda's amused gaze on you. Natasha's reaction was palpable as she shot you a cold glare before following Wanda into the bathroom.

That wasn’t good. You were on Natasha's bad side, and it wasn't a place you wanted to be. All that did was add an extra layer of difficulty to an already precarious situation.

There was no time to waste. You released a long breath, feeling a surge of determination coursing through you.

The past two nights were consumed by Natasha's and Wanda’s presence, leaving little opportunity for you to explore. Now, with them distracted, it was the best possible time for you to start scoping this place out.

Your eyes drifted to the bedroom window, a potential escape route, but you knew better than to rush blindly. Not with them so close to you.

Opening the door, you stepped past the threshold, the cool air of the hallway a stark contrast to the warmth of the bedroom. Goosebumps prickled your skin, and you took a moment to adjust to the change in temperature.

As you ventured further down the hallway, you noticed that it split into two distinct paths. Both hallways stretched out before you, identical in appearance.

After a moment of consideration, you decided to walk down the left hallway first.

With cautious steps, you navigated the dimly lit hallway, your senses on high alert. The walls were devoid of windows, casting the space in shadow, but there was an eerie sense of orderliness to the surroundings. Nothing appeared out of place, no signs of decay or neglect marring the pristine halls.

As you continued onward, the silence was deafening, broken only by the sound of your own footsteps echoing off the walls.

You checked each door along the way, hoping to find an exit or a clue to aid your escape. Each door yielded to your touch without resistance, swinging open to reveal unassuming rooms with no signs of life.

A sinking feeling settled low in the pit of your stomach. There were no windows, no alternate exits – just a series of closed doors that led to a dead end.

Finally, you reached the end of the hallway, your search yielding no answers, no means of escape. You stood there for a moment, staring at the closed door before you, a sense of resignation washing over you. With a heavy sigh, you reached out and grasped the handle, your fingers trembling slightly with apprehension. Every fiber of your being prepared for yet another dead end.

With a slow, deliberate motion, you turned the handle. The door swung open with ease, revealing a storage room.

Entering the room, you're greeted by a clutter of boxes strewn across the floor, each one bursting at the seams with documents and files. Despite the chaotic scene before you, your attention was immediately drawn to the window on the far side of the storage room.

A surge of hope flooded through you at the sight of the window. Closing the door behind you with a soft click, you made your way toward the large aperture.

Reaching the window, you paused, taking a moment to survey the landscape beyond.

You were greeted by the sight of a dense forest stretching out as far as the eye could see. Towering trees loomed overhead, their branches swaying gently in the early morning breeze. The forest floor was carpeted with a thick layer of underbrush, a mosaic of greens and browns interspersed with patches of sunlight filtering through the canopy above.

Birds chirped and flitted among the branches, their songs echoing through the stillness of the forest. In the distance, you could hear the faint rush of a nearby stream, its waters weaving through the heart of the forest like a silver ribbon.

You reached out and touched the pane of the window. A frown creased your brow as you realized the glass was thick, tempered for durability. There was no mechanism to open the window either.

Running your fingers along the smooth surface, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of dread creeping in. You had hoped for a moment of relief, a simple solution to your predicament, but now you realize that breaking through won't be as straightforward as you had initially thought.

It would take a great deal of force and stress to shatter it, far more than you could muster with just your strength alone or with the aid of a tool.

Glancing down at the cuffs that encircled your wrists, you felt a pang of resentment toward the device that nullified your powers. The metallic cuffs seemed to mock you, their cold, unyielding grip a constant reminder of your limitations. But then you remembered Natasha’s and Wanda's warnings. They had spoken of the dangers, of the instability that lurked within your abilities. Yet, you couldn't bring yourself to care.

You knew you were fully capable of obliterating the tempered glass with ease, if not for these restraints.

You withdrew your hand from the window, turning away from the tantalizing glimpse of freedom beyond. Despite the obstacles that stood in your way, you knew that giving up was not an option. You were determined to find a way out of this predicament, to reclaim your agency and uncover the truth.

Your thoughts spiraled further until the familiar sound of Natasha's and Wanda's laughter sounded down the hallway, jolting you back to reality.

Alarm surged through you. Without hesitation, you exited the storage room, pulling the door closed behind you with a muted thud. As you hurried back down the hallway, your heart raced in your chest, their laughter growing louder with each passing second.

Reaching the kitchen, you took a moment to catch your breath, the adrenaline coursing through your veins. You then darted toward the cupboard, your hand reaching out to grab an empty cup.

You turned on your heel and swung open the refrigerator door, the soft hum of the appliance filling the air. Your fingers closed around the chilled bottle of orange juice, pulling it from its resting place.

Pouring the amber liquid into the cup, you watched as it cascaded down in a steady stream. Lifting the cup to your lips, you took a long, slow sip, relishing the citrus flavor that slid down your throat.

Glancing around with a casual air, you needed to give the impression that you had been waiting here all along.

It was at that moment both women entered the kitchen. Natasha and Wanda stood before you, fully dressed and radiant in the morning light.

As Natasha's eyes landed on you – her smile strained – a flicker of irritation flashed in her eyes. Despite her best efforts to mask her disappointment, the tension between you two hung thick in the air, a silent reminder of the rejection you had dealt her.

“Would you like some breakfast?” Natasha’s tone was polite but tinged with an undercurrent of annoyance as she sauntered past you.

“Yes, please.” You replied, keeping your tone neutral.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you struggled to slow it down.

With practiced efficiency, Natasha moved around the kitchen, the clatter of utensils against pots and pans filling the space.

Wanda observed the scene with a small smirk on her face. She seemed unfazed, her eyes flickering between you and Natasha with mild interest.

“I wouldn’t worry about Nat. She’ll get over it.” Wanda teased as she leaned against the kitchen counter.

Natasha scoffed.

You decided not to say anything to that. It’s best to keep quiet for now.

Eventually, you all settled around the kitchen table, the smooth wooden surface adorned with a colorful array of dishes.

You continued to play your part, biding your time until the opportunity presented itself to make your move.

[ohokimdumb]

Choso Kamo(smut)

Summary: Y/n can't stop thinking about the night Choso stopped by her home in Tokyo after finding out Yuji Itadori is his brother

Rolling back and forth you struggled to fall asleep. It would be a lie if you told yourself Choso was on your mind. Not hearing from him in days had you worried, it was unusual for him not to reach out at least once everyday.

Your silky white curtains blew above you from the brisk spring wind, the bright lights of Tokyo seeping through the window of your bedroom. In an attempt to sleep once more, you shut your eyes. You could still see the flashing colors through your eyelids, but then they disappear. Scared to open your eyes, you reached a hand out above you and felt someone else's already holding out for yours.

Quickly, your eyes shoot open and see Choso sitting in your windowsill above you. He barely fit in it with his broad, muscular figure.

"Choso..." Your eyes opened wider as you noticed blood dripping from the corners of his mouth.

"Y/n...forgive me for my silence, for not messaging you today. It's been a long night." Choso coughed and more blood spat onto the palm of his hand.

As you sat yourself up, you gently grabbed onto his strapping forearm and pulled him inside your room. Choso groaned and landed on his unscathed side. His head rested in your lap, he was beaten to the point he couldn't feel pain, he only felt weakness; he hated it.

"What happened to you, Choso?" You murmured and looked down at him, worried. Choso opened his eyes and gazed up into your eyes, taking how soft the expression of your eyes looked. In an instant he felt at peace, as if the world around the two of you stopped spinning, the energy freezing along with it.

"You're so...fascinating." Choso reached his shaky, cut up hand to cup one side of your face. Naturally, you relaxed in the palm of his hand. Hearing that...you didn't know what to say, you weren't even sure what he was talking about. What you didn't know was how much Choso admired you as a human. He felt so alone, shrouded in the darkness of his own soul. When he met you, that shadow suddenly began to lift itself. What was it? He didn't know. All Choso knew was he no longer felt numb from humanity and their transgressions towards him.

Choso lifts himself up and faces you, his lips so close to yours. You were so ensnared by his prominent graze, you didn't notice his blood on your hands and soaked in your sheets.

"You're so human...yet you aren't." Choso whispers and lovingly pressed his sweat-coated forehead against yours. Your heart began to beat slightly faster as you all the sudden felt his fingers tips drag themselves up your inner thigh. His other arm snaked around your waist and pulled you closer to him; you were practically in his lap. As you set a hand on his muscular chest, you could feel his soul pulsing, feeling the energy increase. Choso sighed, craving more of your touch. He didn't want to think about all his burdens digging their claws into him.

Choso wanted you, needed you...craved you. It still felt strange for him to want something so desperately. In response to his affections, you nuzzled your forehead against his and cupped his right cheek with your gentle hand, your touch soothing him.

"Choso, stay with me tonight." You choked on your words as tears welled up in your eyes. Feeling his pain was overwhelming to you. Even if you didn't feel his physical pain, your soul felt like it was on fire.

Choso didn't contest, and suddenly his fingers were sliding up your nightgown and in between the deepest part between your thighs. You jumped slightly as two of his fingers explored around your sensitive clit, kneading at your soft pink flesh. You tangled your fingers in his hair and shut your eyes. His gaze was so intense at times, it was overwhelming to look into his eyes.

"Y/n..." Choso whispered your name. He didn't need to say anything more for you to know what he wanted. Your lips wrapped around his lovingly...weakly, and he returned the affection a thousand times stronger. Sliding his tongue into your mouth, it danced with yours and a quiet moan released from you. Choso's kiss grew more aggressive and he surprised you as he shoved three of his long fingers inside you. Choso made you so weak, emotionally and physically.

Fuck, he was bliss.

Having his fingers pumping inside you wasn't enough. You began to grind on his hand; his presence alone made you feral. The arm Choso had you ensnared in tightened around you, making sure your bodies were touching completely. Choso twirled his fingers around inside as he started to pump them into your frantically. Consumed by each other's energy, he began to growl continuously. As you matched his attitude, you bit his bottom lip, splitting it. Choso wasn't phased; he smiled wickedly as his blood soaked into the crevices of his teeth. Blood ran down his chin, but didn't have a chance to drip when you cleaned his chin with your tongue.

Before you had a chance to continue grinding on his hand, Choso pulled his fingers from you. He held his fingers in between you, your clear, sticky liquid ran down his hand. Choso chuckled and cleaned his fingers off with his long tongue, your delicious taste making his cock throb in excitement.

"You taste so lovely." Choso purred in your ear as he began to untie his robe. He hoped you were prepared for what you were about to receive. It was always intense taking in Choso, it was so long and thick, it stretched your walls far apart. Taking in all of him was painful at times, but it felt so immaculate. Knowing he wanted to burry himself inside you made you so wet, and you felt so desired.

As Choso undid his robe, his cock sprung up. You quietly gasped and reached with your delicate hand, desperate to play with him. Choso grabbed your wrist tightly. You looked up at him in shock, his eyes were covered by a seductive shadow.

"Sit." Choso demanded in a deep, dominant tone. You were always a good girl, and did as you were told. Lowering yourself onto him, you felt the tip of his cock slip into you; so easily. As you lowered yourself onto him more, you winced and your walls spread so much it began to sting. Choso leaned his head back and smiled, chuckling in satisfaction. His cock was so long, it was jabbing at your cervix, but he wouldn't settle for less.

Neither would you.

Choso released your wrist and placed his hands on your hips, wanting to assist you and give you support. You wrapped your arms around his neck and began to grind your hips back and forth on top of him. Choso's eyes rolled in the back of his head, his grab on your waist tightening.

"Fuck, y/n." Choso spat as your soft whimpers were all he could hear and focus on. His cock throbbed and twitched inside you as you continuously grinded.

"You feel so good..." Choso growled.

"A-Am I doing g-good?" You asked and in turn Choso threw you onto your back, pulling himself out, your sticky lubrication spitting onto his thighs.

Choso quickly crawled on top of you, wrapping your legs around his waist and he positioned himself. As he set one hand on the top of your head and the other over your mouth to muffle your cries, he slipped back inside.

"Can't have you waking anyone up." Choso whispered and motioned his hips back and forth, in and out. A tear ran down your cheek as he filled you completely without warning. Slow, but powerful thrusts was his choice and it was overstimulating your insides. Keeping up the pace, loud slapping sounds follow and your bed began to creek.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck...im so close, y/n." Choso huffed and grew more aggressive with his thrusts, abusing your tight walls as you moaned and cried in the palm of his hand. The sheets underneath you soaked with your juices and his blood.

One more thrust and Choso caved in, releasing his cum inside you, coating your throbbing, inflamed walls. Choso collapsed on top of you, leaving himself inside to feel your warmth. You wrapped yourself around him, you felt so safe and secure. Having him in your arms was all you wanted, all you craved.

Chose placed a gentle kiss on your forehead.

Sleep was unavoidable now.