#digging out all of their belongings just to have them closer to you even if it goes against everything you’ve all done this whole time

[villainsidestep]

got sad abt fawn’s little motel room again 😞

[q1ngqve]

ᝰ VIP ROOM !

✶ 𓏲ּ ꩜ 𓂅 the penacony grand theater cordially invites you to V.I.P. room 2 this friday evening for a musical!

CW; fem! reader x penacony men (separated), vaginal penetration, fingering, slight degradation & voyeurism, vibrator, bondage, ‘daddy’ (only for gallagher)

𐙚 AVENTURINE

your gasps ring in his ears as he slides one of your leg onto his lap, spreading you apart effortlessly. his grip on your thigh is tight and steady, clearly having no intention of letting you go anytime soon.

snuggled next to him on the sofa, you feel his arm draped around you, holding both your wrists together, and smirking when you squirm to reach for your dress.

your eyes dart to his face, observing his furrowed brows and the angry smirk as he stares back into your eyes, clear jealousy written in those colourful irises. he leans in close, lips just inches apart from yours, and you feel his breathing turn erratic as his eyes darken, "you love teasing me, don't you?"

"I was just saying hi to an old friend..."

"did you not see the way he looked at you?"

your head shakes cautiously, nails digging softly into your own skin, "m' sorry." aventurine pecks you on your lips, the glossy lipstick staining his own in the process.

another whimper sounds as his gloved fingers slide under your thighs, the soft pads of his black gloves resting snugly against your clothed, pulsing nub. his smirk reappears when the wetness soaks through your panties and onto his gloves, soft squelching sounds reverberate in the VIP room.

your head falls against his shoulder, wrists still bound by his hand, legs spread and trembling on his lap. your boyfriend teases at your earlobes, nipping at the tender skin, sending shivers down your spine with each bite.

his deft fingers slides under your panties, and you hear him chuckle into your ear at how drenched you are for him, making it so easy for his two fingers to slip right into your warm hole.

"who do you belong to, hmm?"

he releases your wrists, the now free hand reaching up to your throat, pulling you closer to his face again.

"—you."

"good girl."

the air gets knocked out of your chest as he pushes you onto the sofa, his fingers still pumping and curling in your pussy harshly, his pace only increasing with each cry of his name you let out.

an embarrassing squelch sounds as he removes them, and you whine at the empty feeling inside you, the ring of muscle clenching at nothing as your hands reach for his nape.

"please— need you so bad..." a satisfied hum leaves him as he leans down to kiss your forehead, pushing his fingers in again without warning at the same time. your legs tense, and your toes curl, a loud moan escaping you, only to get muffled by him stuffing your dress into your mouth.

"all of this," his lips latch onto your neck as they suckle on the sensitive spots, "is for me," littering them with beautiful hickeys that he'll admire later on, "and me only." the musical on stage turning into background noise.

𐙚 BOOTHILL

boothill grunts into your dripping pussy as your fingers pull on the roots of his hair, tugging both away and towards your core, uncertain if you want more or to escape this torment.

"stay still, sweetheart."

a soft "can't—" escapes you, making him cock an eyebrow, his mouth never stopping, licking and sucking at your puffy clit. the silent command from his eyes has you tensing your thighs as his grip tightens, and you're sure his metal fingers will leave marks there tomorrow.

moans of his name fill the room as he frees on hand to slide under your dress and up to your chest, the cool metal wrapping around your boob comfortably. your body shrinks as he plays with the soft bundle of nerves, thumb and pointer finger pinching at your nipple occasionally, making your pussy clench.

his eyes roll to the back of his head the moment his tongue dips into your warm core, your juices and gummy walls sending his engine into overdrive. you swear if he were in a cartoon, there'd be smoke coming out of his back right now.

"pretty girl tastes so (fucking) good." hums when your legs clench around his head, "all this, just for me."

your eyes water as you come undone on his tongue. the sound of fans whirring before you drags you back to reality as he stands, flipping you around so that you're kneeling on the sofa with your hands on the backrest.

whines leave you as he flips your dress up and tears your panties easily. the familiar feeling of cool metal dick has you lying limp on the backrest, your hips involuntarily grinding back against him.

"eager, aren't we?"

muffled whimpers sound from you as you bury your face into the cushions, knowing that you'll be making extremely embarrassing sounds the moment he enters you.

a loud groan escapes boothill as he slides into you, the cool, hard metal of his dick a clear contrast to your soft, warm, and inviting walls, wrapping around him like a vice.

his hand slips around your mouth to cover up your obscene sounds as he pounds into you, unable to contain his hunger any longer. you're now locked in a position that allows him to manhandle and control you easily, body fully limp and putty in his arms, just the way he likes.

𐙚 DR. RATIO

a small smile adorns your lips as you stare straight ahead, looking out at the balcony and onto the stage where the musical is happening, clearly avoiding eye contact with your boyfriend who's burning holes through your head.

your hand inches up his thigh, nails scraping slightly with each movement, your own legs clench whenever you feel his muscles tense beneath the pads of your fingers.

an audible sigh could be heard from him when you palm him through his pants, a clear bulge forming under your hand, making your smile bigger. "someone's excited."

"shut up."

you giggle softly as your fingers wrap around the bulge, while your pointer finger draws slow circles on his clothed tip, a dark spot forming slowly on his pants from his arousal.

you yelp suddenly when you feel yourself stand and be placed into a forceful position. your elbows scrape on the table beneath you as you trying your best to stand steady on your legs all the while looking over your shoulder, a teasing smile on your face.

"what? can't take it already?"

ratio's eyes narrow at your comment before pushing down on the small of your back, making your body press harder onto the cold table surface.

something changes in the air when he huffs a laugh, his hands now gripping at your hips, holding you in place as he starts dry humping against you. he leans down, caging you beneath him as he slides one knee between your legs, and you know, you're in danger.

you squirm in his hold, hips inching forward, digging into the edge of the table, trying your best to run away, your fight or flight kicking in, knowing he isn't going to go easy on you for teasing him.

he pulls you back harshly, so hard you stumble back into his chest. "where do you think you're going?" this wipes the smirk off your face.

you shudder when he kisses down your nape to your shoulder blades, and all you could do was hold your breath, praying that he's not going to be too rough on you as punishment.

you could feel the smugness from the man behind you as he pulls himself out and slides into your panties, coating himself with your wetness, the tip sliding against your clit with each thrust.

now you're the one biting back moans, hands reaching backward to claw at his wrists, an indication that you want him to fuck you. ratio chuckles at your feeble attempt to command him, and he leans down again, this time nearer to your ear, never stopping his movements, sliding against your folds harshly.

"this is for fucking with me when you know you can't handle my teasing."

𐙚 GALLAGHER

as the curtains shut behind the two of you, you trip down the steps, pulling gallagher by his tie. your heels coming off with each step towards the display shelf at the side of the VIP room.

your grip on him strong, like a leash, leading the man before you to collide against your soft body as you lean on the shelf. one strap of your dress slips down your shoulder, a testament to your impatience to feel him against you.

gallagher's hands land on either side of your head, trapping you between the shelf and his body. the sheer size of this man completely envelops you, providing cover if anyone were to look for you behind him.

a giggle escapes you as he kisses your jaw and down to your collarbone. "couldn't wait till we got home?"

your head shakes as you bit your lower lip softly, head tilting upwards, silently inviting him to kiss you. he ignores your request, choosing instead to plant a sweet kiss on your forehead as he runs his hands along the curves of your body, eventually resting on your waist and hip.

you whine when he doesn't kiss you where you want him too, "just wanna feel you, daddy. please?" his smug smile widens at your plea before he pulls your lower body against his own, his bulge resting comfortably on your lower stomach.

"keep it down, okay? they're still out there."

you nod, and a soft " good girl" from him weakens your knees as you relax against his hold, allowing his hands to bunch your dress upwards, freeing himself from his restraints.

your gasps are swallowed by his hot mouth against yours, his thrusts slow and deliberate. your toes dig into the carpeted floor beneath you at the stretch. everything feels heightened knowing that the attendants outside the room could intrude any second and see this filthy scene adds to the pleasure.

gallagher pulls back, panting softly as he angles himself to your g-spot, only to kiss you harshly again, muffling your moans with his tongue. the mind-numbing sensations has you cumming around him almost instantly. you fall limp against him, but he doesn't give you a chance to rest, before propping you up and wrapping your legs around his waist, pounding into you roughly, chasing his own high this time.

"filthy little girl, moaning my name like that. you want them to catch us, don't you?"

𐙚 SUNDAY

a clear look of fear appears in your eyes as your back hits the wall next to the balcony, knowing you have nowhere else to run from the man standing before you.

sunday smiles as he approaches you, his hands reaching for the rope that controls the curtains' movements. "what're you planning to do with that?" the shakiness in your voice betrays you as you try to feign confidence, tilting your chin up slightly as your last resort to prove that you're not scared.

with a flourish, sunday twirls the golden rope in his gloved hands before yanking on it sharply, swiftly closing the balcony curtain. the dimly lit room takes on a more intimate aura as he reaches for your wrists, brushing his lips against them softly like a gentleman, although his eyes betray a predatory gleam that sends your knees weak.

"tug on it, and the whole grand theater will see you."

confusion flickers across your face at his warning, until you feel the bind of your wrists by the very rope he held.

drawing you closer by your waist, sunday twirls you around to face the deep red curtains as he slips his hand under your dress, inserting something cool into your heated core. a soft buzz sounds between your legs, causing you to instinctively lurch forward.

"sunday—!"

he silences your protest with a soft shush, his hands teasing your chest and clit while his hot mouth leaves hickeys on your neck. your arms remained raised slightly, fighting the urge to tug on the rope, knowing the consequences if the curtains do part.

soft cries leave your trembling lips as he increases the speed with a click of the remote in his pocket. leaning back against him, your body surrender fully, giving him full access to your body.

[suksatoru]

Sukuna is sure there's something wrong with you for loving him.

He's not lovable. He didn't even know how soft love could be until you came around. Sukuna is a brutally honest man, but he can't stop muttering the lie "I don't love you" against your lips even as he kisses you

He lies a lot to you, he realizes. He lies when he tells you that you mean nothing to him, he lies when his fingers dig into your skin as he reminds you you're replaceable. He lies when he says you're stupid—you have a brilliant and creative mind he adores

He thinks you'll slowly fade away like all the things in his life eventually do. He thought his love for you would slowly flitter and diminish with time and he'd stop thinking about you constantly

Unfortunately, Sukuna wasn't familiar with love. He didn't know how unpredictable it could be at times, or how it worked. It brought out parts of him he didn't even know existed.

"I was offered a job in another kingdom."

He looks down at you. You're laying on his chest right now. A single, delicate finger moving across the dark ink swirling on his skin as your face is pressed lovingly against his scarred body.

His large palm drags itself over the nape of your neck and towards the back of your head. He gently fists your hair and tilts your head upwards so you can see his scowl

"You're not going anywhere."

You smile. It makes his chest feel tight and his heart rate pick up as you slowly lift your head off of his chest, criss crossing your legs as you sit up on the bed beside him

"Who are you to tell me what to do?"

If anyone else had even dared to think the words, let alone speak them, Sukuna would've sliced their body into more pieces than they could ever count. But you're a fearless thing. While people tie toe around him, you dance around the King of Curses like you couldn't care less.

He smiles. The gesture feels odd but his lips naturally curl upwards at your remark. One of his hands lazily caress your thigh as he gently nudges the fabric of your night gown out of the way

"Who are you to try and leave? You belong here. With me." Sukuna says lowly, his voice dropping an octave as he looks at you through half lidded eyes. You can see the amusement in his eyes as his fingers wrap around your thigh, giving it a firm squeeze before you sigh

"But what if I wanted to leave? You said it yourself, I am not a priority of yours here." You press, leaning closer with a small pout on your lips as he scoffs

"I don't care." He mutters, not meeting your eyes as he looks up at the domed ceilings above him. Sukuna's room was never a place he used to enjoy being in. To him, the golden furniture and high, carved walls never made him feel anything at all

Now, in the mornings, he'd wake up to you peacefully sleeping beside him. Curled into his side, your presence had become an unshakable thing in his room. Slowly, it became a bundle of passion and love for him to exist freely in.

"Just say you're in love with me." You tease, your soft laughter slowly pulling his gaze away from the ceiling as he watched you crawl back onto his chest, pressing feather soft kisses onto his jaw

He lets out a breath through his nose, mentally preparing himself for the words that were about to leave his mouth as he puts his hands on your waist to steady himself.

"I...I do." he mumbles, more to himself as your raise your brows in surprise

"You what?"

He grits his teeth, wondering why you're making this so difficult for him. Sukuna glares at you silently, hoping you'll be able to push past his arrogant words and see the underlying message

"You know what. So shut up and go back to doing that stupid thing you were doing." He concludes, referring to when you were tracing his tattoos. You laugh louder as your eyes crinkle in amusement

"I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about. can you try that again, your highness?" You smirk, pressing your palm flat against his pec as he scowls

Don't give in to the brat. Don't give in to the brat. Don't give in to the brat. Don't—

"I love you."

The words come out strained, almost a whisper as he stares up at the ceiling. His grip on you is tight and he absolutely refused to look down into your eyes. He knows your lips are probably parted in shock. Your silence is long as he awaits a response, suddenly questioning if he'd said the right thing—

Both of your hands grab hold of his cheeks, slowly turning his face towards yours as one of his arms instinctively reaches out to pull you closer

Your voice is soft, but the warmth and relief that spreads through his chest is a welcomed sensation

"I love you too."

[slttygeto]

SING ME A SONG, OKAY? JJK MEN

⤷ in which these men are each assigned lyrics from certain songs.

featuring: gojo satoru, geto suguru, fushiguro toji, nanami keno.

content warning: overst!mulation, spanking, a little bit of a$$ play (barely there), ch0king, marking, mommy k!nk (?)

word count: 2,1k

note: I am slowly getting back into the game. welcome me guys.

reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated!

COMMISSIONS!

Gojo Satoru

"Come right on me--I mean, camaraderie!" (Bed Chem by Sabrina Carpenter)

The sinful strokes were a mocking contrast to the way Satoru was chuckling against your skin. Pink lips attached to your forehead, shushing your whines as he continues to thrust hard–with your knee pressed against your chest, you are trapped between Satoru’s broad chest and the mattress beneath you. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” he sees you reach your arms towards the pillow next to you, and his hand grabs your wrists, pinning them above your head. “Awww, is it too much?” 

It was–he was suffocatingly huge, commanding presence matching the way his cock was obliterating your insides. It’s a miracle that you haven’t passed out with the way he was making you cum one after the other. On his fingers, on his tongue–on the newest toy that he had bought for you and now his cock. You were aware of his stamina, that he could last many rounds–but fuck, was he a beast.

“Satoru!” you squeal when he lifts up your hips, cock dragging against that sweet spot in your walls in a torturing way. You could barely think straight, fingernails dragging down his shoulders and painting his skin red in their wake. He lets go of your legs and you are quick to wrap them around his waist, heels digging into his back as you bring him impossibly closer to you.

“Fuck–fuck, baby,” he breathes out, face hovering over yours and his hands slide down to your sides where he squeezes them. His eyes focus on where his cock and your pussy connect, the sinful sound of ‘shlick, shlick’ as he pounds into you harder, gets your weeping cunt to convulse around him just the right away. 

And Satoru can tell when your orgasm is close–when your body arches and your jaw goes slack, when nothing can get to your head anymore–not even his dirty talk. Your hand wraps around his wrist and you squeeze it so tightly that your knuckles are turning white.

“Oh my god, oh my god–”

“Yeah baby, yeahhhh,” he grins and his index and middle finger land in his mouth, covering them with his spit before he goes down to rub your clit messily. That sends you over the edge. 

The sounds that leave your mouth are unholy, chest heaving and stuttering and your hips buck uncontrollably as your orgasm washes over you. “Satoru, please, please–” you say incoherently, begging him for something you weren’t even sure of. And the man above you watches with heart eyes as your clit twitches in pleasure. He really wants to last longer, wants to make you scream louder, let everyone know who you belong to—

“I’m gonna cum,” he sighs out, hips moving sloppily. “Fuck.” 

“Come on me.”

“What?” 

It’s like Satoru’s brain freezes, and he sees you push your tits together and your tongue lolls out in a pornographic way. You want to taste him. No, fuck it. You want him all over you. As proof that he fucked you so good, that he had his dick inside and you made him cum. 

“It’s g-gonna be messy—fuck!” 

“I like it messy, toru. Please.” 

“Oh shit.” his hand moves messily all over his cock as he jerks himself off, painting your boobs and some of your face with his cum. You close your eyes when you feel it land on your tongue, and Satoru could swear he was in heaven with the way you were scooping up some of his cum and licking it with your fingers.

“Delicious.” 

Geto Suguru

"So what're you doing tonight? Better say doing you right."(34+35 by Ariana Grande)

Did Suguru have a favorite position? You often wondered if your boyfriend had a preference when it comes to sex. If he did, you never felt it. Because sex with him was always dirty, nasty–you could ba

Well, at least not until now. 

Your boyfriend has your hips in a bruising grip as he pounds into you from behind, eyes fixated on the way your ass bounces with each thrust he delivers to your delicious cunt. He can’t help it. It looked so inviting, and with the way your back was arched, face buried in the pillow. Your  pretty manicured hand reaches back to press at his abs, begging him to slow down a bit—take it easy.

“Slow down? Are you sure?” he does slow down, but then he pushes at the small of your back, making your arch a bit deeper. Then he fixes himself from behind you and starts thrusting again, slow. Deep. 

If you didn’t feel how big Suguru was, you certainly do now. Your jaw falls open at how close he is to you. You could feel him all over you, the smell of his shampoo and a little bit of his natural scent reaches your nostrils and you fall in love all over again. 

“Sugu,” you sob pathetically, your hand still trying to push at his abs but this time it’s difficult. Impossible even. “I-I-”

“You what? Hm?” he leans down, lips pressed against your shoulder and he keeps his thrust slow, deep–the tip of his cock continuously dragging against the same spot that had your eyes rolling back and your body moving back and forth–trying to get more friction. 

“Awww, poor you,” his hot breath against your ear makes you shudder, until you feel a hand snaking down to your pussy and his finger starts rubbing at your clit. “Make a mess on me pretty girl–” 

You feel his hand push your head into the pillow and a strangled gasp leaves you as you feel his thrusts getting harder and faster all of a sudden. The bed starts moving from how hard he is pounding into you, your hands claw at the bed sheets and your muffled moans serve as motivation for Suguru to keep going–to keep fucking you until you were falling apart on him.

“Love staring at this fucking ass,” he hisses and his hand lands a smack on your ass. You gasp in surprise, but push back against him. “Fuckkk, can’t wait to fuck it one day,” it seems as though his own dirty talk pushes him over the edge. He starts to rub at your clit messily, head dropping to his chest as a string of curses leaves his lips. 

You can’t see him, but the thought of having him so out of control–so pussy drunk has your mind reeling and your pussy clamps down on him immediately, cumming all over his thick cock. His own orgasm follows soon after and your boyfriend collapses on top of you, refusing to pull out of you. 

“Sugu?”

“Let’s stay like this. ‘Til I get hard again.” 

Fushiguro Toji

"So please come and ride me, love when I'm deep inside you."(Rodeo (Remix) by Lah Pat).

“Come on, girl. You’re not gonna give me a show?” fucking Toji was always so intense. It left you sore and unable to sit properly for days after. The man was a beast, harsh hands spanking your ass and teeth biting your skin as though he couldn’t get enough of you. So his request for today was a bit surprising.

“But–Toji!” you whine a bit but start bouncing on him nonetheless. Slowly, maintaining eye contact and dragging your nails down his chest. He had such a boyish beauty to him–the scar on his lips looks so tempting, so you lean down to kiss him but a hand wraps around your neck and stops you from reaching his lips. 

“Cant’t have that. Not until you make yourself cum.”

“Wha-”

Smack!

“Get to work,” you could’ve easily gotten off and pouted for the rest of the day, but you were glad that you didn’t. The look on Toji’s face is one of bliss–his hand rests behind his head and you see him flex his arm and bite his lower lip as he tries to hold in his noises. 

“Nu-uh Toji,” you say breathlessly, gorgeous tits bouncing as you drag your cunt up and down on his cock. Toji’s green eyes stare at your boobs, and then he is sitting up and placing a hand on the small of your back–pushing you closer to him until one of your boobs is in his mouth.

You let out a pained hiss when you feel his teeth playfully nip at the skin, lips wrapping around your nipple and sucking ecstatically. The hand on the small of your back then travels lower, in between your ass cheeks and a thumb starts circling around your asshole. He was always so filthy, unafraid of touching you in ways that no other man has ever done.

Perhaps this was why Toji was the best fuck you’ve ever had.

“Are you close, mommy?” That damn nickname has you reeling, head thrown back in pleasure and your fingernails now digging into the skin of his shoulders as he starts to thrust up into you as well.

“Mmmh, yes Toji–oh my god,” his hand roughly grabs at your hair and pulls your head back, exposing your neck to his mouth. He nips and sucks on the skin, making sure to mark his territory. This was all too much–you felt as though your body was about to burst into flames with the way his cock was dragging against the right spot and his lips were touching you in all the right places.

“Gonna show me how much of a fucking mess you can make?” His dirty talk pushes you over the edge, and when Toji feels your body seizing up against his own–his lips attach to yours and he is quickly flipping the two of you so that he is on top–continuing his ministrations, the sinful noises leaving your lips doing nothing to slow down Toji’s feral thrusts and the way he was pounding your poor pussy. 

“Fuck, you drive me insane mommy–can’t even think straight with the way this pussy’s gripping my cock–” he starts to blabber the closer he is to his orgasm, the bed making a creaking noise with each harsh thrust of his.  You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer to you until he is groaning against your lips as he empties himself inside you.

Pulling away, he admires the mess he made of you. His hand then goes up to your face where his thumb caresses your cheek lovingly.

"Give me one more?"

Nanami Kento

"Can't help myself hormones are high, give me more than just some butterflies." (Juno by Sabrina Carpenter)

There was something so irresistible about Nanami but you couldn’t put your finger on it. He was a gentleman, a well mannered individual who respected you and prioritized your needs above all. So maybe that's why you were practically begging the man to get you pregnant lately.

“Darling, y’know it’s way too early for that.” The blond haired man tries to sweet talk you out of it, even though your pretty ass was sitting on his muscular thigh and he had a book in the other hand. If you didn’t have self control (which you were slowly losing anyway), you would’ve ridden him with the way his glasses were sitting on the bridge of his nose. 

“But… Ken,” you try to give him your most pathetic puppy eyes, bottom lip jutted out and pretty eyelashes fluttering at him. Fuck. You were so irresistible in his eyes.

The perfect future wife, future mother of his kids–the sweetest thing to play with after such a long day. And the most beautiful as he pulled his cock out of your sweet cunt, admiring the way it was glistening with your arousal and how your pretty clit was practically screaming at him to touch it.

“So fucking gorgeous, darlin’ “

“Please, Ken…” how could he say no to such a pretty pussy?

You feel full–you feel as though Nanami was filling you up to the brim. No person was able to cum this much under such little time–yet here you were, being stuffed with Kento’s cock and cum. You could barely register when he pulled out of you and his cum seeped out of your soaking pussy and down to your ass, dirtying the bed sheets.

“Mmmm, fuck.” You hear him breathe out, index and middle finger scooping up some of the cum and pushing it back into your pussy. “Such a nasty thing. Wanted me to fuck her so bad, huh?” 

“I did, Ken.”

“I know you did darling,” he leans down, lips attaching to your clit and you gasp in surprise. “This pussy just can’t get enough of me, can she?”

You shake your head, fingers buried in his blond locks. You push his face into your pussy. “Make me feel good, Ken.”

Who was he to deny his pretty girl of such a request? 

Nanami was a messy eater, saliva and arousal dripping down his chin as hums against your pussy. Your legs are spread apart shamelessly, allowing the man to eat you out as he wished. His hands grip your inner thighs, pinching and slapping the skin as he slurps at your pussy like a hungry man. He focuses on your clit, making sure to suck and lick on the bud as though it was a treat. He feels the way your body reacts to his touch, how your moans get louder the harder he sucked on the nub.

His tongue then dips in between your folds, tasting your juices mixed together and he groans at the taste.

"Fucking delicious, my love." His cock twitches with the way you stare down at him with a fucked out stare, hands pinching your nipples and your bottom lip stuck between your teeth.

"Ken?" you ask when you see that he stopped his ministrations and was now just staring at you with a different kind of burn in his eyes.

"I'm sorry darling," he kisses your pussy lips before pushing your knees to your chest. "But next time you ask me to get you pregnant, I won't hold back."

2024 © all works belong to @slttygeto. do not repost, translate or steal any of my works.

[moonlight-prose]

dust to dust

a/n: i chose to combine two prompts from the logan promptober hosted by the lovely @silverskyeline. only because old and belt buckle just blended so well for me and the idea i had in my head. i know i've basically written a different version of this in my fic slow, but i've made this one a whole lot filthier. solely cause this is literally my dream scenario with this man.

logan promptober: day fifteen + day seventeen - belt buckle + old

summary: when the days are long and he's grown weary of everything, he knows he can find his peace in your body. that is until he brings a whole new understanding to the belt buckle that sits proudly on his waist.

word count: 1.6k+

pairing: old man!logan howlett x f!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY!!, fluff, exhausted logan, dirty talk, dry humping, he's so filthy in this one, overstimulation, domesticity.

The temperature of his body was the first thing you sought out. His scuffed boots that had seen better days were discarded by the door—his flannel on a hook beside the heavy leather jacket. You heard him by the shuffle of his feet, the tinkling echo of keys hitting the glass bowl in the kitchen. A creak of the couch filtering through the bedroom door—his raspy groan followed right behind it.

There wasn't much that could pull you out of a book when you were settled in a comfy spot, but the sound of Logan coming home still grasped all of your attention. He called to you silently, his presence strong enough to fill the house with a staggering amount of warmth. As if this place, these walls, wouldn't be the same without him.

"Baby?"

He grunted, rubbing his thumb between his scarred knuckles. "'M here."

"Long day?"

The audible huff gave you enough of an answer to make your way over to him. The dark lines beneath his eyes did little to prevent your stomach from twisting in empathy. He worked too hard. Broke himself right down to the bone and yet refused to let you help when it really mattered. You were his pretty girl, the soft swell of love he came home to every night.

To mar your skin with exhaustion was something he refused to accept.

You simply longed to help him. Bear the brunt of his anguish with him, your hand tightly gripped in his. The walls he built were too high—a mountain that only seemed to grow with each new precipice of emotion he came across—but you were resistant. You would climb until your hands were bloody and raw; you'd dig your heels in and refuse to let go.

His face dug into your stomach, hands curling low around your waist.

Silence became the embodiment of your conversations when he fell into his own mind. You tangled your fingers in his hair, thumbs curving along the base of his neck. The drop in his shoulders as tension released made you smile—the flutter of your heart dropping to your stomach within seconds.

He didn't even have to look at you, yet he had you in the palm of his hand—wrapped tightly around his pinky finger where you belonged.

"What can I do?" you hummed, tugging at a particular chunk of hair that always followed with a raspy groan.

The calloused brush of his palm dragged down your hips, grasping the flesh of your ass to drag you even closer. His face now pressed an inch above your crotch - the sweatpants you wore doing nothing to hide the fact that you were completely bare beneath them. The slight hitch in his back told you he knew. By your scent alone; the slick forming between your legs was sweet in the air, begging for his tongue to bury into you.

"Lemme see her," he grunted, inhaling sharply against your hip. "She's callin' to me princess."

A rush of air escaped your lungs. "But don't you want–"

"To see what I waited all day for." His head rose, eyes peeking at you through drooped lids—a lazy smirk pulling at the corner of his lips.

"You should rest."

"You callin' me old?"

Your hands froze on the back of his neck. "No. You just–"

Fingers curled into the waistband of your sweats, dipping down beneath the fabric to slide along your hip. What little breath you had left caught in your throat—the flutter in your stomach dropping to press right up against your clit. He caught onto the minimal reaction instantly. His hand moving to cup your drooling pussy.

"Nothing underneath," he muttered, wetting his bottom lip. "This all for your old man?"

"Logan," you sighed.

"You like that huh?" Pushing further, his chest stuttered at the hot pool of wetness that greeted him—your body practically purring with such a simple touch. "Knownin' you're fuckin' an old man. Makes you wet doesn't it?"

"Oh fuck–"

"There you go." A huff of laughter escaped his mouth at the way your eyes slid shut. "Dust to dust. One foot in the grave and you still want me to ruin ya."

Unable to even comprehend what he was muttering, you nodded aimlessly.

A harsh tug dropped your sweatpants to the ground, your legs clambering out of them in clumsy quick steps. You felt uncoordinated—untethered. And Logan drank it down like the greatest whiskey known to man. He pulled you close, helping you straddle his lap, to grab a glance down at your sticky folds glistening in the low light of the lamp to his right.

You spread your legs wide unconsciously, the need to please him choking your insides until you held no other option but to relent. Yet you did so willingly and without hesitation. The smile on his face became your sole reason for why you breathed—why you lived.

All for him.

"I bet you missed me." You nodded frantically, canting your hips up into his touch. Only to realize...he wasn't talking to you. He wasn't even looking at you.

His attention lay solely in your fluttering hole creaming for the heavy cock that grew hard between his legs. Starvation bled into his features—darkening his eyes as they dragged down the length of your body. He wanted to eat you, dine on the flesh of his lover with a smile, anticipating more than just your shouts of pleasure.

Oftentimes it scared him how much he longed for the touch of your skin, the warmth that seeped from your softness. He craved you, desired to know each intimate part that lay between the crevices of your bones. The gaps in your ribs encased around the heart that beat solely for him.

"Touch me," you sucked in a breath, chest heaving beneath your tank top.

He barely spared you a glance, his thumb stroking the edge of your cunt. "That's not what she wants."

"W-What–"

The lift was nearly effortless, barely forcing a soft grunt past his lips as he pulled you directly over his cock. The very bulge you were eyeing the second you saw him. He didn't bother to unbutton his jeans or give into the throbbing ache that grew unfathomably quick. You clambered to hold onto his shoulders—mouth searching for his in the hopes of gaining something in return.

"I want to kiss you." A whine spilled free, hips shifting in his tight hold.

"Hang on princess."

"What are you–" The slow drag of your hips along his cleared the words from your mind—a stuttered cry replacing any other sound that might have come to the surface.

Cold and hard was all you could comprehend as he pushed your body back to repeat the same move. His lips plastered with a knowing smile as your eyes rolled back—a low throaty moan ripping from your throat. The belt buckle sat directly beneath you. Covering the button of his jeans. You'd maneuvered your way around it before, barely giving any detail to what it looked like.

Now you felt every minute carving drag along your pulsing clit, stimulating you in a way that shoved you towards a blinding release. Logan's hands became pliant on your hips, giving you the freedom to move as you wished. You thanked him with a kiss.

"Feels good doesn't it?" His tongue slid into your mouth, swallowing down the choked sound that rushed to the surface. "Gettin' off on your old man's belt buckle."

"F-Fuck. It feels—oh god–"

"That's it. Keep goin' honey." Cupping your chin, he pressed his forehead to yours, the hot brush of his breath hitting your lips with each word. "Soak it for me, yeah? And I'll wear it to work tomorrow."

A soft pleading cry was all he got in return, your hips jerking frantically over his lap—a wave of slick coating the tarnished metal. And he laughed. Chuckled softly into a spit soaked kiss that left your mind reeling, lips chasing his for just a bit more.

"I'll drive around with it." His words burned your skin, seeping right down to the erratically beating heart that struggled to keep up. "I'll lick it fuckin' clean while I get off to the thought of ya princess. Me sitting alone in that fuckin' limo. Stroking my cock to your pretty face."

The image flashed neon in your mind and that was all you needed to fling yourself off that cliff. With trembling thighs you pressed your clit down hard onto the metal surface, coming undone with a broken shout muffled against his cheek. He talked you through it, mumbling small praises of good girl, did such a good job for me, makin' me feel good. into your skin punctuated by the brush of his lips.

"Feel good?"

"Mhm," you mumbled, sagging into his chest with a sated grin. He grinded his hip up into you, pain sparking up your body and forcing you away from him. "Sensitive."

His hand brushed down your back, slipping beneath your top to knead at your waist—a soothing rhythm pressed into your skin. A sigh escaped his lips as he settled deeper into the couch, clutching you closer than before. You knew where this would lead. How you'd wake up with him atop you on the couch, restricting you from movement.

That alone kept you from moving.

"Good day now baby?" Your words were whispered against his neck, your lips trailing down to his chest.

A small grin pulled at his lips - his thumb working a circle into your lower back. "Yeah honey. It's a good day now."

[webism]

KINKTOBER DAY SIX: breath play with toji fushiguro.

kinktober masterlist

cw for mentions of fucking you after ur passed out, so somno and dubcon?

Toji has withheld the breath of many people before—stolen their right to oxygen for intel or the satisfaction of watching the realisation dawn on someone's face that they're going to die if Toji allows for it.

With you, though, it's different—intoxicating, romantic. With you, it's the way you ask for it; guiding his hand to your neck in silent confession of what you want. It's the way you speak, words dry, to tell him that you want to be completely at his mercy: every part of you is his, breath and life included.

It's the trust in your eyes as he wraps a thick hand around the column of your throat and squeezes his fingers down on either side of your airway. The want that swims over your face, the desperate look you give him when you want it harder, meaner, more dangerous.

It's the way you clench impossibly tight around him when he's seated deep inside of you and wraps a hand around that pretty neck of yours. How, with every thrust of his cock into you, you jolt with an attempt for air that you just can't satiate. It's how he's so deep in your stomach that you'd feel equally as choked even without his hand restricting your breath. Every rock of his hips into yours sends air out of your lungs and into the heated space between you.

It's the way he chokes you with his left hand, so that you can feel the cold metal of his ring against your skin as he takes you for your breath. How his fingers dig into your skin the closer he gets to orgasm; how blissed out he gets, the slightest possibility he'd get carried away and let you slip just a little too far. Would he even stop then, once your eyes have rolled back and your mind is no longer present? Would your body still react to his touch? To the searing stretch of his cock?

It's the way you gasp each time he offers you a moment of reprieve, gifts you a breath and then steals it away again with a kiss. His lips on yours are mean and hungry above all else and when he speaks into your mouth it's almost poetic how his words become your breath. 'even your fuckin' lungs belong to me, doll—shit, trust me with your life, huh?"

It's the bliss on your face when, just as your orgasm crests and you fall into ecstasy, he tightens his grip on your neck so much you'd be surprised to wake up without markings left behind. It's the way your mind spins, lack of oxygen in conjunction with the dizzying orgasms Toji is pulling from you one-after-another like you dispense them at will.

It's the way you can't even say his name, can't even beg for more or less because you're so fucked stupid you don't realise he's let go of your neck a long time ago— you're holding your own breath at this point. And Toji takes it as a sign that he's left a subconscious mark on you, alongside the hundreds of physical ones.

tags:

@medusamara5 @echodead @aliisinwonderland @curiositykilledthecatx3 @hirainne

@plinkuro @sooouth @megumiiiswife @nyxiswrites1200 @yveiscringe

@sharks31 @lenahathunger @aydene @dreamyokai @n0tviv

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@cvipped @toadtoru @keiette @satosugu4-ever

@sugurubabe @wickedpoison6 @simp-plague @tojis-ball-sack @ventila98

@xxbookdrunkdemigodxx @oikawasthirdleg @yogichi @theycallmesia

@kdrama-anna @vurelliex @anonnieghost @tadabzzzbee

@luvofbows @crywolfix @hhonaoin @gigiiiiislife @aviesnapkindoodles

@ninikrumbs @bijuu-naginata @baekhyunsbestie @grimmshold @dalnimmie

@domainexpansionmypants @5tarx @1depressedsimp @beachaddict48 @jadeis0nline

@sukunasbbygrl @luna-v-roiya @sukunaspillow @starsval @vamqyx

@laaalaaaloooppppsiiieeeee @mermaid-jewels @sugusmonkeyy @sammywo @noyaskneepad

@astrideverstar @lordchula-thagrandrula @chuuminn @angel1of-death @flooftoof

@rumi-rants @dysphoricsanity @coolcephalopod @satoruslxt @xoxo1mira

@whosmarjj @kikosaidbye @iceddragonfruit @amisuh @lotties-ashwagandha

@veraiku @niinistudies @jexx233 @logoleptic-since-06 @kirishimasboobs

@samaraxmorgan @brainwashedskullz @uranosbaaee @actuallynarii

@sweetsformysoul

[woso-dreamzzz]

Engaged

Hardersson x Child!Reader

Part of the Big Adventures Universe

Summary: You find the ring

You find it one day randomly.

Momma and Morsa are trying to teach you responsible things like cleaning up after yourself and how to put away your clothes.

Magda and Pernille still do the big things for you like hanging up your dresses and putting the big heavy toys back where they belong but you're the one that has to pick up your stuffed toys and put things back in your sock drawer.

That's when you find it.

There's a weird little box.

At first, you don't notice it, distracted with picking up your fuzzy winter socks. Your hand knocks into the little box at the back of your drawer and you frown.

It doesn't feel like a new pair of socks so you reach to the very back to grab it.

It's an old little box, very small and it takes you a while to work out how to open it.

"Oooh," You say when you open it up," Pretty ring."

"Princesse, have you-"

"Momma!" You say," I found a pretty ring!"

Pernille swings your bedroom door shut quickly and you jump at the sudden noise. She falls to her knees in front of you, slamming the little box shut as quick as she can.

"Momma! I wanted to look at the pretty ring!"

"Shh!" Pernille insists and you fall silent in confusion. "Sorry, princesse. But it's a secret."

"Why? Pretty rings should be seen."

Pernille laughs awkwardly. "Well, yes but this ring isn't ready to be seen yet."

"But it's so pretty! Is it shy?"

Pernille sits down, opening for her arms for you.

You go into them instantly, sitting on her lap as she opens up the little box again.

"Do you know what this is?" She asks.

"It's a ring."

"Yes," Pernille laughs," But do you know what kind of ring it is?"

"Oh! A pretty ring!"

"An engagement ring. Do you remember, when we first came to London, we all went out as a family and me and your Morsa got engaged to get engaged?"

You nod.

You can remember that.

You got to wear a pretty dress and have nice food and a nice walk before Morsa gave Momma a ring to be engaged to be engaged with.

"Well, this is a proper engagement ring."

"A ring to say that you're going to get married?"

"Yes."

"It's pretty, Momma. Did Morsa give it to you?"

Pernille laughs again, shaking her head softly before pressing a kiss to your crown. "No, princesse, but I'm going to give it to Morsa."

You think about that for a moment.

"You'll propose?"

"Yes. Is that okay?"

"And you and Morsa will get married?"

"If she says yes."

You twist in Pernille's lap, looking back at her. "Morsa will say yes. We're family."

Pernille holds you close, drawing you even closer to her. "I hope so."

It's weeks later that Pernille lets you see the engagement ring again and you know what that means.

"Morsa," You groan," Pretty outfit!"

You're sitting on her bed, waiting around for your babysitter for the night to turn up.

Pernille's already out at the engagement site.

It's date day.

Pernille and Magda are going to be spending the whole day together while you stay at home with your babysitter and do fun things like watching tv and doing some drawings.

"What?" Magda laughs," Is this not a pretty enough for you?"

Magda's dressed comfortably just like she always does for date days and you've never had a problem with it before but today you're being quite insistent about it, even digging out a fancy jacket that she hasn't seen for a while.

"Pretty, Morsa," You insist," You have to."

"Can you tell me why?"

You shake your head. "Morsa I can't but it's important. You have to look pretty for Momma."

Magda laughs. "Am I not usually pretty for her?"

"You're always pretty," You declare," But you have to be really pretty for Momma tonight."

You seem so insistent on it, completely serious and Magda decides to humour you.

You're proud of yourself when Morsa finally leaves the house to meet up with Momma.

When you next see them, they'll be engaged.

[joelslastofus]

[SUMMARY: Joel takes your virginity without knowing it’s your first time and gets a little too rough.]

Smut, big age difference

“I was rough with you. I wouldn’t have just shoved myself in you so damn selfishly had I known it would hurt you.”

It had been a month since you met Joel and Ellie and began staying with them at a cabin. Ellie and you both got along great but Joel didn’t seem to like having you around.

Ellie sat at the table eating food you had made while Joel unexpectedly grabbed his shot gun and made his way to the door.

“Where are you going?” You asked confused.

“Check the perimeter” he responded without looking up at you.

“I can help-“

“No, you’re staying inside” his response was cold as usual.

“Joel, I know how to use a gun. I’m not a little girl” you argued before turning away, his eyes quickly taking a glance of your backside with the corner of his eye. Joel knew you weren’t no little girl, regardless of the age difference you had with him he knew that you were a grown woman. A grown woman he was attracted to.

Hell, it was the whole reason the man couldnt bare keeping himself around you. It had been years since Joel felt an attraction with a woman like this. But Joel had never been with someone so young and he knew his mind wasn’t the best for you. He didn’t know too much about you but one thing he did notice was there was an innocence to you he didn’t have. He felt it was better to keep his distance. In his mind, Joel didn’t want to ruin you.

“You’re just gonna have to listen to what I say” Joel finally responded low as he grabbed his belongings and left the front door.

Ellie watched curiously as you frustratedly threw your spoon and followed him out.

“What the hell is your issue with me?” Your voice making him turn to find you with a hand on your hip, God it took everything in him to control where his eyes looked.

“Get inside” was all he could say.

“You know, you treat me so unfairly since I’ve been here. I’m twenty two years old not some twelve year old-“

“I ain’t gonna tell you again” he cut you off turning away from you. Angrily you walked off slamming the door shut giving up at this point.

A while had gone by and Ellie went up the stairs to sleep at the top open floor. You watched from downstairs as she got under the covers and within a few minutes she was asleep.

It was getting late and you wondered where the hell Joel was just as he suddenly opened the door and walked in. He froze at the sight of you by the couch noticing you were wearing his flannel button shirt big enough to stop right above your knees.

“What the hell are you wearing?” His heart racing at the sight before him, all you were doing was making this harder for him to ignore.

“Ellie gave me this, I put my clothes to wash earlier,“ as you spoke he dropped his stuff to the floor without taking his eyes off you, making his way closer to you.

“I’m-I’m sorry” you began to speak nervously as he got closer, towering over you.

“I had nothing else” you continued to explain when he wrapped his arm around your waist and abruptly pulled you against him. You gasped, confused yet intrigued as he brushed his hand against the side of your neck, digging beneath your hair. He looked at you for a moment knowing damn well he was completely giving in and pulled your neck towards him kissing you, taking you by complete shock. You quickly wrapped your arms around him as he began to guide you to the couch behind you, both of you falling onto it as he placed himself between your legs.

He moved quickly which actually excited you, his body was so big next to yours his legs hung off the side of the couch. He seemed like he was in a trance, not saying a word he reached between your bodies and unbuckled his pants pulling them down far enough to expose his erect cock. The man hadn’t even taken off his jacket and he didn’t care. His breathing was heavy now reaching between your legs to pull aside the thin layer of fabric of your underwear. You were a virgin and hadn’t told him a thing, hell you didn’t want to and that’s when you felt the tip of him pressing against your entrance before he thrusted his hips and fully entered you abruptly. You whimpered grabbing onto his jacket, he leaned his face in the crook of your neck as he thrusted again making you wince. You knew sex would hurt but you never knew it would feel like this. A rough sound escaping his lips, Joel felt how tight you were but couldn’t stop himself from plunging into you again and again. Lifting his head up to look down at you he noticed a distinct look in your eyes that he couldn’t make out. Shock? Confusion? The last thing you wanted him to suspect in this moment was that he had just taken your virginity…painfully, and so you tugged at his jacket pulling him in close for a kiss.

Joel dug his hand into your hair pulling at it hard before he thrusted again making you gasp. Each stroke a little less painful than the last and before you knew it, it slowly started to feel good. From the moment he met you, Joel couldn’t stop thinking about having you, feeling you, touching you, he fought it off the best he could. But here he was, on top of you burying himself inside you and you didn’t want him to stop. Feeling you grab onto him with each movement he made only aroused him more when an unexpected moan escaped your lips loudly. Surprising yourself Joel quickly placed his had on your mouth, thrusting deeper feeling you pulsate around him. Remembering that Ellie was asleep right upstairs he kept his hand on your mouth as he began to move faster. Your legs wrapping tightly around him wanting to feel him closer than ever. His eyes locking with yours as you felt a sensation you had never felt before, he watched your eyes roll back and your body shake beneath him. A muffled moan as he squeezed his hand tighter over your lips.

“Shhh” he whispered still moving his body fast against yours. You nodded panting beneath him as he released his hand from your mouth with only one stroke left in him, he quickly got on his knees and came on your inner thigh. Never had you seen a man cum before, watching as he leaned his head back squeezing his eyes shut, more cum spilling out of him. It took everything in him not to make a sound. He sat back on the couch next to your legs trying to catch his breath before grabbing a rag close by and silently passing it to you.

“Thank you” you whispered as he cleaned himself up and quickly got up. Buckling his pants you watched as he walked to the door, you furrowed your brows confused trying to quickly put yourself together when he just walked out.

Knowing Ellie was asleep upstairs, you didn’t bother calling out for him but quickly got up wrapping a sweater around your waist.

Joel had his back to you staring out into the dark when you quietly closed the door behind you.

“Are you kidding me? You just walk out?”

He didn’t respond.

“Hello?”

“I shouldn’t have done that” he uttered low without turning to you.

“Ok well you did and….I loved it-“

“Well it ain’t happenin’ again. Drop it”

“Excuse me?” You walked over to him quickly making you feel a soreness between your legs you had never felt.

“Ow” you quickly stopped standing awkwardly in place as Joel looked over at you.

“What’s wrong? I hurt you?” His sudden concern surprising you a bit.

“No. It’s just..I mean-“

“It’s just what?” He asked with a hint of annoyance in his voice.

“That…that was my first time, Joel” you could see the color almost drain from his face.

“Oh Jesus” he whispered.

“Why didn’t you tell me, dammit?!”

“Why are you getting mad?” You asked with confusion.

“You think I would’ve-“ he caught his voice getting loud and took a deep breath.

“You think I would’ve taken you like that on the damn couch if I knew that?”

“So what, I’m fine” you assured him.

“That’s why you were looking at me like that” he remembered the look in your eyes that he couldn’t explain. He remembered how hard he first entered you and cursed at himself. Each stroke pushing deep. It explained why you looked at him so shocked never having felt that before.

“I didn’t even give you a damn chance-“

“A chance for what?”

“I was rough with you. I wouldn’t have just shoved myself in you so damn selfishly had I known it would hurt you.”

“Joel so what? I was the one who didn’t tell you. It felt good after and I never knew I could feel something like that. I can’t explain what I felt, I don’t know what you did but that feeling…” you suddenly looked away almost losing your breath just thinking about how your body shook. Joel watched as you slowly got lost into that moment, your lips parting, hell it was beginning to arouse him all over.

“I don’t know what it was but-“

“I made you cum, darling” his voice completely distracting your thoughts.

“You made me what?”

He slowly walked towards you as you looked up at him innocently. His hand slowly caressing your cheek as his thumb found your bottom lip.

“I made you cum” he slid his finger into your mouth watching as you slowly closed your lips around it when suddenly the sound of the door opening made you both quickly back away from each other to find Ellie coming out.

“Oh man, how long was I asleep for?” Joel quickly turned back towards the woods.

“Not too long” you responded walking back to the house.

“Is there more food left? I’m kinda hungry?” She asked turning back inside with you. You nodded as you let her in front of you before looking back at Joel. You knew he wanted you again, but this time he wanted to take his time with you, he wanted to do it the right way.

Maybe just once more, he thought to himself. Whatever this was you knew it was only the beginning.

[icejjfishesz]

𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐁𝐎𝐃𝐈𝐄𝐒 ❞ 𓄼˚ ▍ K.M.

❛ 𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆             ━━  strangers at a party ❜

❛ 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁                ━━  fuckin in the bathroom cause i did it in the kitchen so it seemed like the next step idk. lesbian sex idk what else to say. ❜

❛ 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁         ━━  1.8k ❜

❛ 𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲      ━━  got lazy towards the end and it shows but i was asked for kate smut so i wanted to deliver. say you’re proud of me. ❜

LAS VEGAS, NEVADA: sinews of nightlife and world-class entertainment. a city so full of beauty and sin you sometimes wonder if you’re meant to repent or bow down to it. an oxymoron in the way it’s a symbol of opulence and misfortune. in every direction the city spans, meets another person who could vouch for it.

no more than four hours ago, you were at home. peacefully solitary. indulging in a new show you had started recently –– then you got the call. the groan that escaped you as a result of it was disgruntled. you answered and met the voice of your friend, buoyancy dripping from her every syllable when she said…

you should come with me to hang out. 

she was practically pleading, no doubt missing your presence which doubled as having you as a designated driver. she made it sound fun. or perhaps her excitement was austerely contagious. so, you acquiesce now and plan to regret later. you should’ve expected a party. more accurately, the party. flashing lights coating the room in an array of dizzying colors. talking bodies dancing around the sumptuous house in a haze. unsystematically. 

hot and clamorous and mesmerizing.

“hey baby…” the voice makes you tense. you look up at the perspiring face it belongs to and that does nothing to pacify you. then the touch on your arm. a cold, clammy hand kneading along your skin. you cower. physically retracting yourself as you attempt to recoil. they are unrelenting. tight grip as their nails dig into you to hold you there –– trap you in the prison of their proximity. “what are you doin’ over here all by yourself?”

the stench of alcohol fills your senses the closer they get to you. the unequivocal slur in their voice. impossible to be underplayed or considered inscrutable. incredibly, humiliatingly drunk. you send a tight, bellicose smile their way –– hoping your hostility would be enough to make them turn back around.

you fail. or perhaps they’re just too desperate obstinate. 

“i’m waiting for my girlfriend.” it’s a lie, purely for survival. their shoulder slump even if only for a moment, they take a beat and regain their audacity. 

“you know…” here we go… “if you were my girlfriend…i’d never let you outta my sight.”

 it could almost be charming if it wasn’t for their lack of balance as they sway on their feet. childlike. unable to walk straight even if only a step or two to invade your personal space.

“good thing i’m not your girlfriend.” you mutter, sass stricken tone as you tilt your head up –– hoping to catch any free air that wasn’t assailed by the scorch of the person in front of you.

“damn, baby…that’s cold. i like it.” tenacious. standing as straight up as they can despite their drunken slouch. you’re sure if they weren’t leaning on the remnants of their pride they’d topple over and pestle into dust.

“i’m seriously not interested. my girlfriend should be coming back soon.” you know the waters are abysmal and inclement but you test them anyway. praying that there’s a chance their ego will sweep them back to whatever hell they came from.

“i don’t think you have a girlfriend, sweet thing. i bet you’re just playin’ hard to get.” they step even closer, almost making you gag.

you send another prayer out. hoping for an angel to sweep in and make this person disappear.

“look –– i know my girl’s really pretty but i’d appreciate it if you’d leave her alone now.” a girl you can’t really make out the face of speaks. make no mistake, though the words are kind the tone is threatening. yet unlike this random in front of you, her voice catches your attention and soothes you. it catches their attention too, finally backing away in surrender. your eyes squint and the only thing that can come to mind as this faceless woman comes in to save the day is…god? is that you?

they another swig out of their red solo and send a hankering look over their shoulder before you’re finally released as they walk away. free at last.

you clear your throat of any traces of the venom reserved for insistent, drunk strangers. you cave your shoulders inwards, bending your back to release yourself of built tension before letting out a soft sigh since it feels like you can breathe again. “...thanks.”

she lifts and drops her shoulders, dismissively. letting you know the action wasn’t one she needed thanking for. she steps a bit closer so she can hear you better and damn. gold flaxen hair combed back in a ponytail so you can get a better look at all her pretty features. you espy her perfect nose and welcoming smile. verdure green eyes making direct contact with yours. and, again, damn –– the way her eyes smile at you benevolently, the kind you could get lost in. god definitely had favorites and she was the supreme. her likeness stopping you in your tracks. entranced by her.

“i’m kate, by the way.” she extends a hand, open palm to the side for you to take. you amalgamate fingers with her –– her palms soft as butter. 

you give her your name as the handshake cleaves apart. she notices the lack of a red cup in your hands –– easy to spot since most everyone around you isn’t void of one –– and takes the chance. “that’s a pretty name. you aren’t drinking?”  

“i’m driving.” you miss the way her shoulders relax when she hears that you’re sober. her hands retiring to the pockets of her pants as she studies you. no doubt checking you out just as shamelessly as you had done to her.

“me too.” her lips rise at the sides –– a smile that could divest the most stubborn tension. you smile back but keep your shoulders straight and command your knees to keep firm. and refuse to let them buckle for a ridiculously pretty stranger.

“do you go to a lot of parties?” she crooks her head to the side, curiosity twinkling in her pretty eyes. 

“not really.” your tongue darts out to wet your lips. “do you?”

she chuckles airly. “not really.”

“what made you come to this one then?”

“my friends dragged me here. i think they just wanted my attention though. i’m a great personal chauffeur apparently.” jauntily dig that forces your teeth to bite back another grin.

“can’t blame them too much in that case. who wouldn’t want your attention?” an intuitive hunch on your end but you couldn’t help it. 

“are you saying that you want my attention?” she replies back quickly, not missing a beat.

“absolutely not...” you smile teasingly, sarcasm itself probably envious of your delusive tone.

“…are you flirting with me?” you’re graced with a hearty chuckle, her lips pressing together as she clears the joke. 

“absolutely.” 

she tilted her head again, formal reddening spreading across her cheeks. pretty. it almost felt like the party quieted down or ceased to exist entirely as the two of you just talked. mouths spewing about anything and everything. it wasn’t long until you upped the ante, getting bolder with your flirty remarks to see that familiar blush across her cheeks again.

“wanna get out of here?” you lower your voice to a breathy whisper. daring her to step closer.

“we…we have to drive, we shouldn’t leave the party…” her breathing quickens, tachycardic heart pulsing. be responsible, kate. she reminds herself albeit reluctantly because she wants nothing more than to drag you out of here.

“not out of the party…out of this room.” you outstretch your hand again.

hell yes. her hand sliding against yours –– wide, toothy grin settling her lips. you cusp your hand in the curve of hers.

you lead her through the talking, drunk bodies you’re surrounded with. she clings to the grasp of your warm hand as you make it up the stairs. you lead her across the hall. you lower your voice. “i think this is the bathroom.”

she watches you clasp your hand into a fist and press it firmly against the closed door a few times. no answer. the most beautiful silence she’s ever heard.

you open it and see that it is in fact empty and is in fact the bathroom. and most importantly clean. you back her flush against the counter, staring at her for a fleeting moment before you whisper.

“you’re so pretty…”

she groans, kissing you with all her pent up greed –– pulling you as close as she can get you and then even closer. your hands reach down to her pants, hooking around the top of them.

“take these off..” it was something about the breathy way you spoke the words, how your eyes twinkled practically begging for it. nimble fingers desperately seeking the removal of her belt as she nods in approval.

once it’s gone, you slip your hand into her pants and past her underwear. agile fingertips reaching her puffy clit. she hisses which quickly resolves into a moan which you swallow eagerly.

it feels good. she moans as much but you would’ve assumed it by the way she struggles to kiss you back. 

“please. it’s not enough, go faster.” she huffs, hips bucking into your hand.

“what?” in the palm of your hand you hold her release underneath your ordinance. she sounded so pretty askin so nicely. “tell me again.”

she grumbles, head tossing itself back and back arching into you. “please.”

you wouldn’t wanna disappoint. so you give her what she’s longing for, fingers speeding up to get her there. her ecstasy is contagious, your own body losing control as your hands move on their own accord –– raring to send her over the edge. 

it’s addicting. how her eyes screw shut, the gasp she lets out as her own delectation overtakes her. you ride it out for her, wrists eventually knotting behind her neck when she kisses you.

“your turn.” she mumbles into your mouth but a knock at the door pauses both your movements, you go to move away but she holds you tighter. “...promise i’ll be quick if you promise to be quiet.”

damn. risky offer that you wouldn’t be caught dead denying. you nod, letting her dismiss your bottoms as she drops to her knees in front of you. her hot breath fans over your pussy –– near embarrassment flowing over you at how soaked you are.

she wastes no time, lithe tongue licking between your legs. lips opening and closing around your clit. you’re spoiling her, indubitably. she was completely spoiled the second your mouth got the first taste of you. she basks in the beauty of your rapture. if only for a moment more to pull away and hear you whine for desire of her. she licks your lips of the remnants of your taste on them, chin coated in your interrupted release. she couldn’t resist how perfect the opportunity to tease you right now was.

“say please.”

[yourbiggestcrybaby]

Pure

Mattheo Riddle x Fem!Halfblood!Reader

Warnings: Mattheo is a jerk, insults towards half-bloods, idk

Mattheo and you have always been enemies. Mattheo insults you perhaps to try to distract himself from his undeniable feelings for you, you insult him back, thats part of you routine. One night, in the common room, Mattheo goes too far and you cry. He feels guilty and tries to fix it, but you have had enough.

The Slytherin common room was dim, the flickering green fire casting shadows over the stone walls as you tried to focus on your notes. It was late, and you were hoping to get a few minutes of quiet studying, but the familiar sound of footsteps approaching made you tense up. Without even turning, you knew who it was.

Mattheo Riddle strode in, his left foot repetitively tapping the floor as he lingered just close enough for you to feel the weight of his gaze. He watched you for a moment, his face unreadable, his stance unusually calm. Normally, he was quick to throw in a smug remark, but tonight he just stood there, looking at you with an intensity you couldn’t quite place.

“Still studying?” he asked, his voice softer than usual. You almost missed the gentleness there, but it was quickly overrun by a familiar sneer as he added, “Thought you’d be used to all this by now.”

You glanced up, surprised to see him looking at you with something close to curiosity. “Some of us actually care about our studies,” you said, keeping your tone neutral, trying to ignore the flutter of nerves his stare was stirring up.

“Oh, I know you do,” he said, an almost mocking note creeping into his voice. “Trying to prove you’re as good as the rest of us, aren’t you?”

The words hit a nerve, but you ignored it, burying yourself back in your notes. This was how it always was with Mattheo—him throwing barbs, you dodging them, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a reaction.

He moved closer, leaning over your shoulder, his voice dropping to a low whisper. “You can study as much as you like, but you know you’ll never be more than what you are. You’re never going to be one of us.”

You stiffened, feeling the familiar ache that his words always seemed to stir up, but you didn’t let it show. Instead, you forced yourself to stay calm, to keep your voice steady. “And what exactly do you mean by that, Mattheo?”

His smirk widened, and there was a flicker of cruelty in his eyes. “Come on, don’t make me spell it out,” he sneered. “You can wear the Slytherin crest, you can memorize all the spells you want, but it doesn’t change the fact that you’re not pure. That’s something you can’t study your way out of.”

His words hurt, they were calculated to wound, and for a moment, you felt the sting of tears in your eyes. But you forced them down, refusing to give him the satisfaction. This was Mattheo’s favorite way to get to you—digging at the one thing he knew would make you feel like an outsider. But tonight, the anger in his words seemed more intense, his gaze harsher, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d come here tonight with every intention of making you feel as low as possible.

You took a steadying breath, meeting his gaze with as much strength as you could muster. “I didn’t realize blood status was so important to you, Mattheo. Didn’t think the Dark Lord’s son would be so old-fashioned.”

A flash of anger crossed his face, and his smirk faltered. But he recovered quickly, stepping back and crossing his arms, his expression hardening. “It’s not about being old-fashioned. It’s about knowing your place,” he said coldly. “I don’t know why you’re so desperate to prove you belong here when you’ll never be a real Slytherin.”

Your chest tightened, his words sinking in deeper than you wanted to admit. You looked away, trying to keep your expression calm, but his voice just kept cutting through the air, each word sharper than the last.

“It’s pathetic, really,” he went on, his tone dripping with disdain. “Watching you pretend like any of this matters, like you’re somehow the exception. But the truth is, you can’t change what you are.”

“Why do you even care?” you shot back, unable to hold the question in any longer. “Why are you so determined to tear me down every chance you get?”

He opened his mouth, a flicker of something softer crossing his face, but it was gone in an instant, replaced with that same cold, calculating look. “I don’t care,” he said flatly, though his tone wavered for a second. “I just think it’s pathetic, the way you try so hard to be one of us.”

The words sank in, every syllable feeling like another twist of the knife. You could feel the heat of tears in your eyes, and you quickly blinked them away, refusing to let him see how much his words had cut. But he saw something in your expression—some tiny flicker of pain—and for just a moment, his own face softened, like he was almost… regretful.

He shifted awkwardly, glancing down and rubbing the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable. “Look, I didn’t mean it like that,” he muttered, his voice low, almost unsure. “I just—”

“Yes, you did,” you interrupted, your voice trembling despite yourself. “You meant every word. You always do.”

He looked at you, his face falling, the usual arrogance nowhere to be seen. For a second, it almost looked like he wanted to take it all back, but he seemed lost, unable to find the words.

“I just…” he started, but you cut him off.

“I don’t care, Mattheo,” you said, swallowing hard to keep your voice steady. “I don’t care what you meant, or why you feel the need to make me feel like this. Just leave me alone.”

You watched as the regret in his eyes deepened, his expression twisting with something almost like pain. He looked away, his shoulders slumping as though he was trying to hide the guilt etched across his face. He hesitated, lingering for a moment, like he wanted to apologize but couldn’t bring himself to say the words.

“Fine,” he muttered finally, his voice barely audible. “If that’s what you want.”

There was no arrogance in his tone, no sneer in his expression. Just a hollow, defeated look as he turned and walked away, his footsteps echoing through the empty common room. But just before he reached the door, he stopped and glanced back at you, his eyes shadowed with something raw and unspoken, as if he was silently begging for another chance.

But you stayed silent, your eyes cold as you watched him go, refusing to give him even the slightest hint of forgiveness.

And as the door closed behind him, you let out a shaky breath, the weight of his words settling heavy in your chest. He was gone, but the ache of his insults lingered, echoing through the empty room.

[jobean12-blog]

Make You Mine

Pairing: Joel Miller x female reader (Friends to lovers)

Word Count: 930

Summary: You and Joel have been friends for some time and when he comes to rescue you from a shitty situation all the tension that's been building comes to a head and he takes you home to make you his.

Author's Note: This is a stand alone story but thank you to the lovely @casa-boiardi I wrote a little something for what happens when they get home❤️You don't have to read Where You Belong first but of course you can if you want 🥰All these new pics of Pedro filming have been driving me crazy- in the best way-so yummy! Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the sweet @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 🥰

Warnings: soft sweetness mixed in with all the yummy, he can't get enough and you can't either, fingering, oral (f rec), p in v

Pedro Pascal Character Masterlist

The door to your house swings open with the force of his push and when he slams it shut he pins you against it, his breathing harsh and heavy as his fingers trace the curve of your jaw.

“I want to go slow,” he rasps, pressing closer. “I want to touch you everywhere, taste you everywhere…”

His free hand rests along the door just above your head, fingers fisted and pressing into the wood as he fights to control himself.

With his name falling from your lips in a whispered plea you drag your hands down his soaked shirt and dig your fingers into the waistband of his jeans.

The rain still falls outside and you’re both drenched, your clothes sticking to your skin. You stay like that for several moments, pressed together with lips hovering just an inch apart.

“Sweetheart,” he groans. “Fuck.”

The words have barely left his lips before he kisses you, dropping his hand from the door and taking you in his arms. He can’t get you close enough and you can feel the temptation in every part of his body, muscles tense as he traces each of your curves.

“I want to go slow…” he says again, maybe to remind himself, or you, before he rolls his hips, and whispers, “but I don’t think I can control myself.”

“Don’t,” you answer, matching his movements and working hard to pull the wet shirt from his body.

He gets the message and releases you just enough to haul if off. His jeans hang low, molded to his thick thighs and your fingers fall to the button, working it open quickly.

When the denim hangs loose, revealing more of his dark trail of hair, you lick your lips and try to tug them down further but they cling to his wet skin.

He hisses out your name when you reach between his legs but tries to focus on tugging the straps of your dress from your shoulders.

Thick fingers fumble for the zipper at your back, finally grabbing hold of the small piece of metal and pulling it down slowly. He steps back from the door and takes you with him, watching intently as he peels the dress from your body.

It looks as if he wants to say something but instead he hauls you possessively back into his arms and kisses you, his lips soft despite the scraping of his beard. His large hand splays at the small of your back, sweeping upward until he cups the back of your neck and tilts your head to deepen the kiss.

Your back hits the door again and you moan into his mouth, still desperately trying to get his jeans over his thighs but he falls to his knees, taking your panties down with him. He looks up at you, his dark hair even more tousled, the ends drying and curling more than usual. The curls frame his face, flushed and eager.

“Just a taste sweetheart. I need it.”

Your fingers thread through his hair and when he rests your leg over his shoulder your knees almost buckle. His kisses are soft as they move along your calf then to your inner thigh and tease you with every inch that brings him closer.

His eyes close for the briefest second and his nose bumps your clit, so light, but the sensation makes your entire body react. His inhale is long and deep and hums with satisfaction.

“Oh my god, Joel.”

The swipe of his tongue is just a tease at first, light flicks that drive you wild and have you begging for more. When you can’t take it any longer you give his hair a sharp tug and he pushes his tongue deeper to taste you, working you over like a man so consumed he can’t do anything else.

His rough beard drags along your delicate skin and his fingers glide up your leg, gathering the wetness between them.

“Yes, yes, please,” you chant, rolling your hips.

He pushes one finger inside you, then another, groaning when he feels you squeeze around them. Your legs start to shake and you pull his face closer.

“That’s it sweetheart,” he murmurs, “show me how much you love my face buried between your legs.”

When he sucks your clit between his lips it sends you over the edge, the rush of pleasure overwhelming and his name the only thing you can remember.

He stands slowly, kissing along every inch of you until he’s upright and holds you in his arms, giving you time to catch your breath. His shoulders feel so strong under your palms and you press your lips to his neck, feeling the wild beat of his pulse.

His eyes meet yours and he takes your face between his hands.

“Joel,” you whisper, gently bumping your nose to his. “Joel, I want you inside me. Make me yours.”

The heat in his gaze matches the burn of your skin and he reaches for his jeans, grasping and pulling until they’re down at his ankles. He settles against you, hard and thick but his touch is soft and reverent with every kiss and sweep of his fingers.

He fills you slowly, holding your stare before he’s fully seated, the breath rushing out of your lungs. Then he kisses you, stealing your breath even more and whispering against your lips, “how the fuck do you do it, sweetheart?”

“Do what?” you gasp.

“Taste even sweeter now that I know you’re mine.”  

And you want to be his, more than your next breath.

@lorilane33 @kmc1989 @lizette50 @hiddles-rose @littleseasiren

[tohakumaru]

[project page]

>walk away, go with the nomad. i love you.

since you cannot cry, you make an effort to push the stale air out of your lungs, a poor imitation of a sigh - i guess bad habits really die hard. if the nomad has noticed, then it pays you no mind and simply carries on. casting one last lingering glance at the water and the sky above, you dutifully follow. after a short while, it becomes clear that something has changed. the nomad has picked up its pace, moving in erratic strides. here and there, you find it dashing across the sand, beak and head angled upwards, as though searching, or following an invisible thread in the air, one that you can feel, but cannot quite grasp, like a long forgotten name - always on the tip of your tongue, yet never to be spoken aloud. at times, you struggle to keep up. it's so hard, you're so tired, it's too much. your eyes burn with fatigue. you want to scream, to beg the bird-thing to slow down, but the words evade you everytime you open your mouth, and the nomad does not so much as look at you. a hot and bitter pressure builds behind your nose and muffles your ears. once again you feel yourself falling apart - but the blanket wrapped around your frame and the water sloshing in your hollow stomach seem to work against your body's trajectory to disintegrate, two forces swirling inside and all around you, like a wicked pendulum that propels you forward despite, despite.

i won't let you go, should have known that from the start.

---

tenderly her eyes made their pilgrimage across the mounds of glass and steel, mourning perhaps hunger is a cure for insanity, shut-you-up-real-nice knowing full well being alive is a horrendously beautiful thing while the dogs, blood stained snouts dig out the madness, turn it into a five course meal heaving, a still-beating heart melts like butter on their lips as poorly clipped nails fumbled and fussed,

just enough to make a day-ride.

---

in this fashion, you and the nomad dance across the white sand for some time, until a hillside comes into view. upon closer inspection, you are awed to realise it is made entirely of roots. at the foot of this strange hill, a grove - an incredible indent in that tangled mass that is the tree-hill - opens up and presents an even more curious sight: 12 creatures, each bearing the likeness of a bird, but is clearly not one. they stand stock-still and solemn, with multitudes of dried flowers and glittering gemstones at their feet. their faces, elongated and coming to pointy, beak-like ends, are not dissimilar to the nomad, but much more haggard; and so immobile, it is easy to mistake them for statues, has there not been the occassional puffs of dusty smoke and shrill noises, like a kettle boiling over, coming from their beaks and throats that betray any hints of liveliness about them.

the nomad slows its steps, and looks down. it keeps its eyes to the ground as you get nearer to the grove. it occurs to you that it is avoiding the living-statues' gaze. surprisingly, they reciprocrate the gesture. Ever so slightly each of them turn their head, so their eyes fall off the nomad, and onto … you. you, who does not belong you, who comes on a leash, believing it to be choice you, who dies, and nothing changes

to your bewilderment, the statues came to life, all at once. they grovel at the flowers and gems, and toss them in handfuls at you as the nomad leads you through the grove, leaving a trail of petals and stones. when you pass the 12th statue and come to the end of the opening, everything suddenly shifts: slowly, mechanically, the roots shape themselves into a winding stairway, leading you up the hill.

calmly, the nomad signals you to go up.

what do you do?

[previous chapter]

[yan-lorkai]

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Tagging: @kurtswld

"Human nature is something fickle," The words left Chrollo’s mouth, and they weren't pretty and charming as he always presented them. He was far too pissed off to care how he was presenting himself to you. Right here and now, he wasn't a gentleman, a well-mannered man who liked to read and discuss.

Looking at him now, he was the Phantom Troupe's leader. A killer and a monster. Your heart was beating louder at each step he took in your direction. It was a dangerous symphony, a requiem you weren't fond of. Yet, he seemed amused, fond of it, even.

"They lie, betray and kill," He kneeled in front of you, and while you tried to put distance between both of you, trying to crawl away, Chrollo pulled you back to him by your neck, his nails digging into your soft skin, making you whimper. 'You did all three of them in the span of two hours, darling. You lied to me,"

He chuckled. You weren't sure what he thought that was funny. You didn't want to know, you were far too afraid to move or talk to even think about what would he consider fun. Chrollo is a strange man, always were, always will be.

No... not man.

He was something else. Him and his little family. All murderers, all bad people.

He caressed your face in a tender way. The same way he used to when he first fell for you; the tears started to fall from your eyes at that. Whether it was because you really thought you could have escaped him or because you didn't want to know what he was going to do to you now.

"You betrayed my trust in you," He muttered, nuzzling his face against your neck, his hand still holding it, depriving you of breathing as he exhaled. "You betrayed my troupe's trust. And trust is something important for us. We have our backs, we're family, and when you lied to me, you lied to them."

"I didn't kill anyone..." You struggled to say, your last defiance slowly disappearing as you held onto his hand, trying to escape his grip, but it was impossible. "I'm... not like you."

Chrollo’s grip tightened slightly, his lips brushing against your ear as he let out a low chuckle. "Oh, my dear," he murmured, his voice dangerously soft. "Not like me? Perhaps you think you're better, untainted. But isn’t it fascinating how far desperation can push someone? How quickly survival overrides morality?"

You flinched, the weight of his words pressing down on you like an iron cage. He pulled back just enough to look into your tear-streaked face, his thumb stroking your jaw in a mockery of comfort. "You may not have killed anyone," he continued, "but your actions led to consequences. If you understand what I'm saying."

You shook your head weakly, choking on your own breath. "I didn’t mean for this to happen," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

"But it did," Chrollo said sharply, his tone cutting through you like a blade. "And now, here we are. You thought you could run, thought you could escape me. Did you really believe I’d let you go so easily?"

His hand slid from your neck to your chin, tilting your face up so you couldn’t avoid his piercing gaze. "You’re mine," he said firmly, like a promise and a threat, his dark eyes gleaming with a possessive intensity that made your stomach churn. "You’ve always been mine, and no amount of running or lying will change that."

The air between you was suffocating, and despite your trembling, you mustered the courage to whisper, "What are you going to do to me?"

Chrollo smiled then, soft and almost kind, but it didn’t reach his eyes. His mask was back on his face. "What I’m going to do, my darling, is ensure you never feel the need to run from me again."

He leaned closer, pressing a kiss to your forehead as though to seal his promise. "I’ll remind you of your place, remind you of the bond we share. And by the time I’m done, you won’t dream of leaving me again. You’ll know where you belong."

The cold finality in his voice sent a shiver down your spine. As he pulled you into his arms, cradling you like a precious possession, you realized there was no escaping Chrollo Lucilfer — not now, not ever.

[moonselune]

I don't know of you have done something like this, but if not, could you do scenarios for the dark au where tav gets hurt by someone who wants to take their place? Maybe they think they are unworthy? Adore your writing 😊

Ahhh thank you so much !! This was super fun to write !

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Dark!BG3 | Replacement

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

For: Conqueror!Minthara, MotherSuperior!Shadowheart, God!Gale, Ascended!Astarion, Naturist!Halsin, GrandDuke!Wyll

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

CW: Controlling, manipulation, coercion, forced memory loss, blood, murder, F!reader only noticeable in Wyll's though

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Conqueror Minthara:

The dark silence of the Underdark gardens wrapped around you like a shroud, broken only by the echo of your own hurried footsteps. The recent fight with Minthara had left you frustrated, her possessive nature grating at you until you’d finally stormed off. You knew it would unsettle her; Minthara wasn’t one to let anyone, least of all you, slip from her grasp so easily. Still, you had hoped she’d give you a moment to breathe. As you heard footsteps approaching, you rolled your eyes, assuming she had come after you, too possessive to let even a single disagreement take you from her.

But something felt wrong.

The figure moving toward you was silent, controlled—lacking Minthara’s usual predatory grace. You barely had time to react before you saw a glint of steel, and a sharp pain seared across your side. You stumbled backward, clutching the wound, blood slipping through your fingers. As you looked up, your gaze met with the cold, disdainful eyes of Minthara’s second in command, the drow who had always regarded you with thinly veiled contempt. Her smile was a twisted thing, cold and malicious.

“Surprised?” she sneered, moving closer, her weapon dripping with your blood. “You really thought Minthara would care about some pet who has no place here? I’m going to end this—make it look like you couldn’t handle the Underdark after all. That you tried to escape. Minthara will believe it. She’ll have no choice but to move on.”

A chill ran through you as you realized the depth of her envy. This wasn’t just hatred; it was the envy of someone who despised what you had with Minthara, resenting that Minthara would choose you over anyone else. She stepped forward again, preparing to strike. But before she could make contact, you shoved her back with all the strength you could muster, sending her stumbling.

She staggered, then stopped short as her back hit something solid.

No… someone.

The second-in-command whirled around, eyes widening in horror as she came face-to-face with Minthara herself, who stood in the shadowed path with a deadly calm. Minthara’s gaze was dark, her face set into an expression of quiet, simmering rage that made the air feel even colder. Her eyes flicked from her subordinate’s trembling form to the blood dripping from your wound, taking in the entire scene in an instant.

“It’s not what—” the second-in-command stammered, scrambling for words, but Minthara cut her off with a look that could freeze fire.

“Silence.” Her voice was low, yet filled with an icy fury that sent a shiver down your spine. She reached out with a quick, brutal motion, grabbing her second-in-command by the throat, squeezing hard enough to cut off any attempt at explanation. The drow gasped for air, her eyes wide with terror as Minthara’s grip tightened, her nails digging into the delicate skin of her neck.

Minthara leaned in close, her voice a venomous whisper.

“You thought you could lay a hand on what belongs to me? You dared to assume you had any right to touch them?” With a powerful surge, Minthara threw her to the ground, her movements sharp and precise, her eyes blazing with an almost unhinged rage. “You’ll wish for death before I’m done with you.”

The second-in-command lay incapacitated, her body twitching as Minthara’s magic left her unable to move, trapped in a state of suspended agony. Only then did Minthara turn her attention to you, her expression softening slightly as she moved toward you with an almost predatory care. She knelt beside you, her hand reaching out to steady you as she examined the wound on your side.

“You were hurt,” she murmured, a faint trace of anger still lacing her tone, but there was something else, too—a flicker of concern beneath the dark fury. She ran a gentle hand over your wound, applying enough pressure to stem the bleeding, her touch unexpectedly tender.

Despite the pain, you found yourself laughing, a soft chuckle that echoed through the silence.

“I knew you wouldn’t let me out of your sight,” you managed, your voice laced with irony. “Couldn’t lose control over me for even a moment, could you?”

Minthara’s eyes met yours, a dangerous glint in them, but there was something close to satisfaction there too.

“And a good thing it was,” she replied, her lips curving into a dark smile. “Or perhaps I would’ve had to hunt down the fool who thought they could steal you from me.”

Her hand moved from your wound to cradle your face, her thumb tracing your cheek in a gesture that was both possessive and strangely affectionate.

“You belong to me,” she whispered, her voice fierce. “No one else. Don’t ever forget that.”

She helped you to your feet, her arm around your waist, her grip both a support and a reminder of her control. You leaned into her touch, feeling the strength in her hold, the unyielding protection that came with her possessive love.

Behind you, her second-in-command lay helpless, bound by Minthara’s spell, and you knew without a doubt that her fate would be brutal. You didn’t need to watch to know that Minthara’s punishment would be swift and merciless. She would make an example out of her former subordinate, a warning to anyone who dared threaten what was hers.

As Minthara led you back through the garden, her hand firm around you, you felt a mixture of relief and resignation. She had saved your life, yes, but the possessiveness that drove her had been there all along, the dark and consuming love that wouldn’t allow you even a moment of freedom. She had saved you, but it was all to preserve what she saw as hers.

The pain in your side pulsed, but Minthara’s hand remained steady on your waist, her grip almost comforting in its possessiveness. In her twisted mind, her actions were justified. She had protected you, saved you from harm—she would do anything to keep you, even if that meant wrapping you tighter in her control.

As you walked together, you glanced up at her, and for a moment, you thought you saw a hint of something soft in her gaze. But then her expression shifted, her smile dark and triumphant. In her mind, she had won; she had kept you safe, defeated any threat to her claim on you.

And as she led you deeper into her realm, into the shadows where you would remain by her side, you knew that you would always be hers.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Mother Superior Shadowheart:

The courtyard of the cloister was cloaked in the muted gray light of early morning, shadows creeping along the stone walls as you squared off against your opponent. You took in the young Sharran before you, an ambitious acolyte whose eyes gleamed with a familiar hunger—a dangerous mix of ambition and jealousy.

You’d noticed their glances toward Shadowheart, the way they lingered when she walked past, barely concealing the devotion in their gaze. It was almost amusing to you, for no one in this cloister could threaten the place you held at her side. The memory gaps may have left holes in your mind, but your body moved with sharp, instinctual precision, honed through countless battles. You didn’t need memory to remind you that you were one of the best.

You circled each other, fists raised, and the acolyte’s stance was confident, too confident. You could feel the arrogance radiating from them, and it made you chuckle under your breath. They thought they were someone to be feared, someone with the skill to challenge you. And yet, as the fight began, it was clear they had underestimated your reflexes, your raw power.

Blow after blow, you dodged, struck, and blocked with a near-effortless grace that left them seething. It was obvious now they were outmatched, but there was no sign of retreat in their eyes. Instead, their lips curled into a sneer, and they muttered something under their breath—something too low for you to hear, but the bitterness was evident. And then, with a swift, practiced motion, they reached inside their cloak and pulled out a dagger, its blade glinting sharply in the dim light.

You felt a flicker of surprise. This was supposed to be a sparring match, nothing more, and yet they’d brought a knife into the fight. You tensed, muscles coiling as your eyes narrowed on the blade in their hand.

“So,” they taunted, their voice laced with venom, “the Mother Superior’s pet isn’t as sharp as she used to be. Gaps in memory, isn’t it? She doesn’t tell you everything, does she? How does it feel to be kept like a mindless tool, only good for taking orders?” They circled closer, eyes glinting with malicious amusement. “You don’t belong by her side. You’re just… convenient. Nothing more.”

The words stung, gnawing at the back of your mind. It was true that there were holes in your memories, pieces that didn’t quite fit, details that you couldn’t fully recall. But you pushed the thoughts aside, refusing to let them take root. Whatever was missing, whatever had been forgotten, it didn’t matter. You were here, and you were hers. That was all that mattered.

But the Sharran sensed your hesitation, a flash of doubt, and they pressed their advantage, lunging forward with the dagger. You dodged, narrowly avoiding the blade as it sliced through the air, but their relentless attacks began to push you back. You caught glimpses of their smirk, their taunting gaze, as if they were relishing every missed block, every moment of weakness.

And then, in a swift, brutal move, they managed to slip through your guard, the dagger cutting across your arm. You hissed in pain, blood dripping from the fresh wound, and you staggered back, feeling the weight of the fight suddenly shift. They saw the opening, and their eyes lit up with a triumphant gleam. They lunged forward again, the dagger poised for the killing blow.

But just as the blade was about to strike, they stopped—frozen in place, eyes wide with terror. Their limbs were rigid, locked in a stance of helpless fury, and a faint, dark aura shimmered around them. You looked up, following the line of their terrified gaze, and saw her.

Shadowheart stood at the edge of the courtyard, her eyes blazing with fury, her hand raised in a silent spell. With a flick of her wrist, the Sharran acolyte’s head twisted sharply, an audible snap echoing through the air as their body crumpled to the ground, lifeless.

For a moment, the only sound was your own ragged breathing as Shadowheart strode forward, her expression a cold mask of wrath. She didn’t even glance at the fallen acolyte, her focus entirely on you. She knelt beside you, her hands gentle as they traced over the wound on your arm, her fingers glowing with a faint healing light.

“Are you alright?” she asked, her voice soft, a sharp contrast to the deadly fury she had just displayed.

You nodded, your gaze flicking between her and the lifeless body nearby.

“They… they mentioned something about gaps in my memory,” you said cautiously, searching her eyes. “They said I don’t belong here. That I don’t know the whole truth.”

A shadow passed over her face, and for a moment, her grip on your arm tightened slightly. But then she softened, her fingers brushing over your skin as if to soothe the hurt beyond the physical wound.

“They were just trying to weaken you, to plant seeds of doubt in your mind,” she replied, her voice steady and calm. “Your place is here, with me. By my side. You belong nowhere else.”

She leaned closer, her gaze locking onto yours with a fierce intensity. “The gaps in your memory… they’re a consequence of the life you had before. A life that no longer matters. I saved you from that. I brought you here, to the cloister, where you can be who you’re meant to be. With me.”

The warmth of her magic seeped into your wound, and you felt the pain ebb away, replaced by a comforting numbness. The lingering doubt in your mind was overshadowed by the strength of her conviction, her unwavering belief in the path she had set for you. Shadowheart was your anchor, your guiding star, and you could feel the weight of her possessive devotion wrapping around you, a reminder that whatever had come before no longer held any power over you.

You managed a small smile, nodding as you reached up to brush a hand over her cheek, feeling the coolness of her skin.

“I trust you,” you murmured. “And I’m grateful to be by your side.”

She returned your smile, her gaze softening as she covered your hand with her own.

“Good. Because that’s exactly where you belong.” She cast one last, dismissive glance at the body of the acolyte, her lips curling in distaste. “No one else will threaten you. They don’t deserve to stand in your shadow.”

As she helped you to your feet, her arm wrapped around your waist, guiding you back to the cloister, the doubt faded away entirely. Whatever shadows lingered in your past, whatever memories had been lost, it didn’t matter. You were hers, and she was yours, and no one would ever take that from you.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

God of Ambition Gale:

The dim candlelight of the summoning chamber cast flickering shadows over the cold stone walls, and the air was thick with incense and chanting. You shifted slightly, testing the limits of the runic circle that bound you in place, but every movement was met with an oppressive, invisible force, pressing down on you with unyielding weight.

As the realization settled in, your initial smirk of amusement at this mortal’s audacity faded, replaced by a gnawing unease. It was almost laughable how easily they had managed to capture you; Gale’s control over your divine power left you vulnerable, deliberately kept weak to prevent you from ever fully escaping his grasp. And now, as you felt your strength ebbing, you understood the gravity of your situation.

The follower knelt before you, a zealous glint in their eyes as they recited incantations, their voice laced with fervor. Dressed in elaborate robes, they wore talismans devoted to Gale, symbols of their fanatical devotion etched into every surface of the summoning chamber. The entire place was a shrine to ambition itself, each detail meticulously designed to honor your god—and your captor.

The follower finally lifted their gaze to you, a manic smile stretching across their face.

"You don’t deserve him," they hissed, their tone a poisonous mix of reverence and disdain. "You’re a weak god, nothing more than a hollow vessel given power by him. But me…" They leaned forward, their voice trembling with adoration. "I could worship him in ways you never could. Gale deserves undivided devotion, unbroken ambition. Not… someone as faint and powerless as you."

You opened your mouth to respond, to laugh off their words, but the runes pulsed, and with each pulse, you felt a new wave of your strength drain, seeping out of you and into the lines of the ritual. Your heart sank. This wasn’t just a simple binding. It was a siphoning—a slow, deliberate draw on your power, meant to weaken you enough to fuel the summoning of Gale himself.

They took a step closer, their eyes wide with triumph as they watched the light fading in your eyes.

"How does it feel, I wonder, knowing your own god keeps you shackled like a plaything? To be so close to greatness, yet to never truly be allowed to touch it?" They tilted their head, enjoying your silence, interpreting it as surrender.

And for a moment, there was fear in you. Not for yourself but for the terrible emptiness left behind as your power faded—a hollow reminder of Gale’s relentless control. You knew he saw you as his own, a piece of his ambition that could never exist independently, even as a god. This mortal, in their arrogance, had taken advantage of that very control, and now you were helpless in a way that gnawed at you.

The ritual circle blazed with renewed energy, and the room shook as a presence took form in the air—a dark, powerful force pressing down on everything within the chamber. The candle flames flickered and bowed as if in reverence, and a sudden silence swallowed the chanting, the air itself holding its breath as Gale stepped into the room, his very presence swallowing up all light and sound.

The follower fell to their knees, eyes wide with reverence and ecstasy.

"My lord!" they whispered, their voice filled with adoration as they reached out toward him. "I have shown you my devotion, captured this… pretender, to prove my worth. I am yours, my lord. Take me in place of—"

Gale’s gaze shifted from you to his devotee, a glint of curiosity sparking in his dark eyes as he studied them. His expression was unreadable, his face set into that unsettlingly calm mask he wore whenever he assessed someone who had piqued his interest. For a moment, the acolyte seemed to believe they had earned his favor, their face glowing with hope as they knelt before him.

But then Gale’s eyes narrowed, and a chill swept over the room as his expression darkened.

“You misunderstand your place,” he said, his voice soft, the calm tone belying the fury simmering beneath it. "You, a mere follower, believed yourself capable of taking what is mine?" He took a slow, measured step forward, his gaze never leaving the trembling form before him. "Did you think that capturing a god under my domain would earn my favor? Or did you simply seek to undermine me, thinking yourself worthy of such… ambition?"

The follower’s eyes widened in terror as they tried to back away, words of apology tumbling from their lips, but Gale’s power was already wrapping around them, a dark, suffocating force that held them immobile.

“It seems you lack an understanding of devotion," Gale continued, his voice chilling in its softness. "Let me show you what happens to those who overstep their bounds."

With a flick of his wrist, the follower’s body seized up, their breath catching in their throat as they gasped, unable to move. Gale’s magic seemed to compress around them, their bones creaking as his power slowly crushed the life from them, his face a mask of calm detachment. Their eyes rolled back in agony, their limbs contorting as Gale made his judgment swift and final, using them as an example of ambition misguided.

And then, in a flash, it was over. The follower’s lifeless form crumpled to the ground, leaving a chilling silence in the air.

Gale finally turned his attention to you, his expression softening as he regarded you, though the possessiveness in his gaze was as strong as ever. He stepped into the circle, effortlessly dispersing the runes with a wave of his hand, releasing you from the binding that had held you so helplessly in place. He reached out, fingers brushing over your cheek with a strange tenderness, his touch a reminder of both his power and his control over you.

“Fear not, my muse,” he murmured, his voice rich with dark affection. “No one else will touch what belongs to me. Not even those who worship me.”

You nodded, your head dipping in a gesture of submission, knowing that he would take no other answer. Gale smiled, his thumb tracing your jawline with possessive satisfaction, and he pulled you close, his hand settling at the back of your neck.

“You are bound to me,” he whispered, his voice soft but laced with command. “Your power is mine to grant or withhold, and none shall touch it, or you, without my will.”

And with that, he led you from the chamber, the empty remains of his follower a silent warning to any who dared question the place he had carved out for you in his unyielding ambition. Gale was your god, your captor, and your guardian all in one—and no one would come between you and his dark, consuming love.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Ascended Astarion:

The sunlight was unforgiving, searing down on your skin the instant you were thrown into it. Agony flared as the delicate warding spell that had protected you disintegrated, leaving you exposed to the relentless rays of the sun. Pain consumed you, blinding and unbearable as your flesh burned, blistering and cracking in mere seconds.

You stumbled, gasping as the raw heat seared through muscle and bone. You tried to scream, but your voice died in your throat, choked out by the fire consuming you. The world was blurring in and out, and through the haze of agony, you could make out the blurred silhouette of your attacker, smirking from the safety of the shadows just inside the door, watching with satisfaction as you writhed.

The spawn had been relentless in their ambition, and it was only in that agonizing moment that you finally understood just how deeply their envy ran. They thought themselves worthy of Astarion’s favor, the one destined to be his dark consort, and they had waited for the right opportunity, the chance to strip you of your place by his side.

Your vision dimmed as the fire ate away at you, the edges of consciousness fading. You barely registered the door bursting open again or the cold shadow that swept over you as hands—cold, firm hands—gripped you and pulled you away from the merciless light. The next thing you felt was the cool press of stone beneath you, the oppressive heat gone, and then… nothing. There was nothing but pain and darkness.

Through the haze, you felt something pressed to your lips—warm and metallic, filling your senses with the rich, familiar scent of blood. Instinctively, you drank, the sensation grounding you, soothing the burning wounds with each pull. Slowly, the pain dulled, replaced by a distant, comforting hum. Your senses began to return, the blurry edges of the room coming into focus as you felt the charred skin mending, painfully knitting back together as life returned to your broken form.

As you finally blinked the haze from your eyes, you found yourself staring up at Astarion’s face, his crimson eyes softened with an uncharacteristic tenderness, though his mouth was drawn into a taut line. His hand cupped your cheek as if you were something fragile, his thumb brushing over the fresh, healed skin where burns had marred it only moments ago. He was murmuring softly, words flowing over you in a tone both soothing and possessive, though you could hardly process them in your dazed state.

“It’s all right, my sweet,” he cooed, his voice low and warm as he leaned over you, his face barely inches from yours. “You’re safe now. I won’t let anyone harm you, not like that.”

You blinked, slowly looking past him, only to freeze as the full scene came into focus. Scattered around you were bloodied remains—the spawn, or rather, what was left of them, was strewn across the room. Their limbs had been torn from their body, reduced to a gruesome pile of parts on the cold stone floor. The once-confident smirk you had seen on their face was gone, replaced now by a horrified stillness in their lifeless eyes.

Astarion’s grip on you tightened as he followed your gaze, his expression darkening.

“Oh, don’t waste your energy on them,” he murmured, his tone smooth but edged with a chilling coldness. He tilted your face back to him, forcing your gaze to meet his. “They thought they could take what’s mine, dared to strip you of the protection I gave you, to hurt you. But they forgot one simple thing.”

His hand traced down from your cheek to your throat, where his fingers rested possessively, feeling the steady pulse of your blood.

“You’re mine. Body, soul, and everything in between,” he whispered, his voice a velvet command. “No one else could ever take your place.”

The fear, the agony, the helplessness of moments ago seemed to fade as he held you, his arms wrapped around you with a fierce protectiveness. His fingers stroked through your hair as he continued to murmur assurances, the words as binding as a spell, each one a reaffirmation of your place at his side. There was no room for doubt; in his arms, you were shielded from the pain, shielded from everything but his absolute, consuming devotion.

“They all think they’re special, my dear,” he said, casting a disdainful glance at the remains. “But they’re not like you, none of them. You, my sweet, are the only one worthy of my power, my attention. You belong to me—and I to you.” He smiled, a cold, dangerous glint in his eyes as he brushed a lock of hair back from your face. "And I won’t let anyone interfere with that."

You managed a weak nod, leaning into his touch as he continued to hold you close. The last vestiges of the agony you had endured melted away, leaving only the soft, possessive murmur of his voice, the steady rhythm of his fingers tracing over your skin, as he soothed and calmed you back from the brink. He was your anchor, your constant, and in this moment, his power was a shield around you.

As he held you, the remnants of his wrath still lingering in his gaze, you knew that no one else would ever challenge your place beside him. Astarion had made his stance clear in the most brutal way possible, a warning to any who would dare cross him—and a reminder to you that, no matter what, he would always keep you close, bound to him in his dark, all-encompassing love.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Naturist Halsin:

The grove was quiet, the leaves whispering softly as a gentle breeze passed through, but that night, something felt amiss. Halsin lay beside you, watching the steady rise and fall of your chest as you slept, and assumed you were simply exhausted from the long day spent in the forest. He smiled, pressing a light kiss to your forehead, and closed his own eyes, content to rest with you beside him. But when he stirred from sleep later in the night, something had changed. A low, strangled sound pulled him from his slumber, and in the faint moonlight, he saw your body trembling, the tremors rolling through you like a shiver from the deepest cold.

You weren’t asleep; you were convulsing, and a dark glisten of sweat clung to your brow. Alarm shot through Halsin, who immediately recognized the signs of poison—a potent, slow-working concoction he’d seen used in rare cases within the grove.

His mind raced as he searched for the antidote, pulling it from his stores and carefully administering it, tilting your head back to help you drink, whispering words of encouragement as he steadied your shaking hands.

After a few agonizing moments, the worst of your spasms subsided, and your breathing leveled out. Weak and shaken, you looked up at him with hazy eyes, trying to focus. Halsin kept his gaze soft, filled with concern but tinged with a growing anger simmering beneath. He held you close as you regained your strength, his hand a steady presence on your back.

Once you could stand, Halsin supported you, guiding you from your resting place out into the heart of the grove. Under the canopy of starlit leaves, he called upon the druids, summoning them with a low, commanding tone. His voice reverberated through the grove, uncharacteristically severe, and one by one, the druids gathered in the clearing, forming a loose circle around you both.

Halsin’s protective arm around your shoulders lent you strength as you looked at each of their faces, searching for the one who had betrayed you.

Though your hands still trembled, your gaze hardened as you focused on a single figure at the edge of the circle, a druid whose stance was too stiff, whose eyes averted yours. The poisoner looked back at you, a faint glint of resentment flashing in their eyes before they began to back away, inching toward the cover of the trees. Without hesitation, you raised a shaky hand, pointing directly at them.

"It’s… it’s them," you whispered, your voice weak but sure.

The druid’s face twisted with fear and defiance, and in one swift motion, they turned, making a desperate break toward the edge of the grove, hoping to escape into the shadows.

But Halsin would not allow them to flee. His jaw tightened, his fury coming to the surface in an uncharacteristic, brutal wave. With a single gesture, he summoned thick, thorned vines from the earth.

They erupted from the soil with a life of their own, coiling like serpents as they slithered after the fleeing druid. The vines caught up quickly, wrapping around the traitor’s legs and yanking them down to the ground, winding up over their body with fierce intent.

The thorned vines tightened, digging into flesh, piercing through clothing and skin alike. Blood began to pool, dark and stark against the earthy ground, as the vines tore through, showing no mercy. The grove seemed to hold its breath, watching as the very nature that the traitor had twisted for their own purposes now turned on them. Halsin’s gaze was unyielding as he watched, his expression set, the compassion he usually reserved for his people absent.

The druid let out a strangled cry as the thorns pressed deeper, breaking skin and severing tendons, each tightening coil met with a gory result. Their blood soaked into the earth, nourishing it, just as Halsin had intended, a grotesque reminder of what happened to those who threatened his own. For him, this act was justice—a stark, undeniable message to any who might dare undermine the safety of his grove or his kin.

Finally, as the druid’s life slipped away, Halsin released his hold, the vines loosening and receding back into the ground, leaving only silence and the faint scent of blood on the forest floor.

When it was over, he turned to you, his expression softening as he placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder.

"You are safe now," he said, his voice a blend of calm and the fierce protectiveness that had driven him to act so ruthlessly. “No one will harm you here again.”

Though you were shaken, you found strength in his touch, nodding as he pulled you close, his embrace as unyielding as the very nature he had summoned to protect you. The grove was a place of sanctuary, of balance—and Halsin had shown that he would stop at nothing to keep it that way, even if it meant spilling blood into the very soil he had sworn to protect.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Grand Duke Wyll:

The opulence of the ballroom shimmered around you, chandeliers casting warm light over the swirling dancers, the ornate fabrics, and glittering jewels. You held your head high beside the Grand Duke, finding solace in the joy of the night despite the whispers that trailed in your wake. Nobles murmured, their words carrying faintly over the music. Most of it you had learned to ignore, but tonight, the gossip felt sharp and unrelenting. Snippets of conversation floated past, just loud enough to reach your ears.

“Can you believe they let her into the ballroom at his side?” one of them whispered with a haughty laugh. “She looks more suited to a servant’s position,” sneered another, their words laced with contempt. You clenched your hands at your sides, taking steady breaths to brush off their malice. But then, their murmurs grew darker.

“I heard the Grand Duke only keeps her around for amusement. How long, I wonder, until he tires of her?” someone murmured, laughing softly. “It would be such a scandal if she were to just… disappear, wouldn’t it?”

Their venomous words stung in a way that you hadn’t anticipated, pressing upon a wound that you had tried to bury. You excused yourself, weaving through the crowd until you found the balcony, stepping out into the cool night air. The stars twinkled overhead, their beauty a quiet comfort against the bitterness of the nobles’ words. You leaned against the balustrade, the city lights below calming you, giving you a moment’s peace. But that peace was short-lived.

Behind you, the same group of nobles had followed, lingering just by the doorway. One of them tittered, their tone thick with false innocence.

“Out here on the balcony, alone?” another mocked, their tone feigning concern. “Careful, dear. You wouldn’t want to lose your balance.”

You turned to leave, but they circled around, blocking your path with thinly veiled malice. Their eyes gleamed with an unsettling intent as they crowded closer, nudging you further out toward the edge of the balcony. Your pulse quickened as your back met the cold stone of the balustrade, the space behind you yawning into open air.

“Oh, no need to look so frightened. We’re simply having a little chat,” one of them cooed, their smirk betraying their intent. They pressed closer, each small movement edging you nearer to the ledge.

Then, a voice rang out, slicing through the tension like a knife:

“Enough.” Wyll’s voice was calm, but there was an unmistakable, sharp edge beneath it that cut the air like steel. The nobles immediately straightened, stepping back from you, their sneers evaporating as they turned to face the Grand Duke himself.

“We were only talking to her, Your Grace,” one of them stammered, their tone suddenly meek. “No harm intended.”

Wyll’s gaze was dark, his eyes smoldering as he took in the scene, his jaw set and expression unreadable. He looked at you, his expression softening for a moment.

“Are you all right?” he asked, his voice gentler, the protective undercurrent unmistakable. You swallowed, brushing off the fear that had crept in.

“Yes, Wyll. I’m fine,” you replied, trying to steady your voice.

But he didn’t release his hard gaze from the group of nobles before him. His mouth curved slightly, a hint of a chilling smile playing at his lips as he issued his next command: “Jump. Off. The. Balcony.”

The nobles’ eyes widened, shock rippling through their features. One of them dared a weak laugh, disbelief clear in their tone. “Your Grace, we were only—”

Wyll’s smile vanished, replaced by an expression of cold steel. “You heard me,” he said, his tone low and final, his gaze unwavering as he pointed toward the balcony’s edge. “If you think it’s amusing to dangle someone on the edge, let’s see how you enjoy it.”

You placed a hand on his arm, trying to dissuade him. “Wyll, it’s not necessary,” you murmured softly. “They were… they were just being cruel.”

He turned to you, his eyes softening as he spoke, but the resolve remained.

“No one threatens what is mine,” he replied, his words more promise than explanation. “No one.”

He looked back at the nobles, who now trembled under his gaze, each one of them calculating their next move. They understood the Grand Duke’s reputation well—his ruthlessness and sadistic side were spoken of in hushed tones among court circles, and none of them were willing to test his patience further.

With shared glances of terror, one by one, they stepped up to the edge, each steeling themselves before casting nervous glances back at Wyll. They preferred to take their chances with the fall than face his wrath.

With a reluctant step backward, the first noble swung a leg over the edge, preparing to lower themselves down rather than leap, followed by the others, each descending with as much dignity as they could muster. Their terrified breaths and grunts of effort echoed faintly as they made their way down to the ground below. Each fall was punctuated with a sickening thud that made your stomach lurch each time.

When the last of them was gone, Wyll turned back to you, his expression softening again. He reached out, brushing a gentle hand against your cheek, his voice lowering to a soothing murmur. “No one will ever make you feel less than what you are, not while I am here. Do you understand?”

You nodded, his touch grounding you, the earlier fear beginning to fade. Wyll wrapped an arm around you, drawing you close, his gaze lingering protectively as he looked back over the balcony, ensuring that no one was there to help any unfortunate survivors, he wanted to let them rot, let the world see what happens to those who threaten what is his.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Okay so no cambions in this, I'm going to add them when I finish their catch ups because I kind of follow a narrative with these and I have not fully fleshed out their narritives yet. Hope you guys enjoyed this ! - Seluney xox

If you want to support me in other ways | Help keep this moonmaiden caffeinated x

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Another

Sam and Dean Winchester & little sister!reader

Requested by anonymous

Synopsis: You go with your brothers to a bar, but things turn sideways when a stranger won’t leave you alone.

Warnings: creepy guy, scared reader, protective Sam and Dean

Another hunt. Another town. Another bar.

After you guys had moved into the bunker, some stupid, stupid part of you thought that maybe some things would change. But some things would always be the same.

You didn’t mind the hunting, you really didn’t. You didn’t want to do it, and you wished your brothers had a safer life, but you understood at least. They helped people, and that was everything.

But you hated this; being in a town full of strangers in a bar full of people much older than you, huddling in a corner waiting for your big brothers. There was nothing like not belonging while being surrounded by drunk, adult strangers.

Usually, the adults would stare at you like you were an alien for a moment or two, then ignore you. Young teens weren’t common in bars, but it wasn’t interesting enough to keep them from their good times.

This time, something was different. A man near the bar had been staring at you ever since you walked in the door. You had even gone to the other side of the bar to avoid him, but he followed. He hadn’t approached you, but he wouldn’t stop staring. Since he’d yet to go near you, you didn’t see a reason to bother Sam and Dean about it.

But he was starting to freak you out, so you found yourself trying to locate Sam or Dean in the crowded bar.

“Hey.”

You were so distracted looking for your brothers that you hadn’t seen the man approaching.

“Name’s Greg,” he greeted.

“Hi,” you muttered, still glancing around for Sam and Dean.

“What’s a sweetheart like you doing here alone?” Greg asked in a sickeningly sweet voice.

“‘M not—“ You were squirming in your seat now, and Sam and Dean were nowhere to be seen. “—not alone.”

“Now don’t be nervous.” Greg took the seat next to you and scooted it closer so that his knee was touching yours. You tried to scoot back, but you chair was already against the wall. You couldn’t go back, and Greg was angled in such a way that if you got up, he was blocking any easy exit.

“I have to find my brothers,” you said, deciding to risk it and stand up, attempting to squirm past the man.

Your whole body stiffened as though someone had dropped an ice cube down your back. Greg, still sitting in his own chair, and grabbed your leg right above your knee when you stood. His fingers were curled, gripping you much too tightly.

“Hey now,” he said, trying to keep up the sweet tone but sounding annoyed. “No need to rush off.” His fingers slackened their grip, but once he let go he stood, towering over you much too closely. And then the hand that was on your knee was on your shoulder, his fingers digging into the sensitive skin near your neck.

“I-I have to—“ your voice caught in your throat when his grip tightened painfully.

“No you don’t,” he all but commanded. “Just stay right here with me, nobody’s gonna miss you.” He shifted forward until all you could see was him. Your back was up against the wall; you had nowhere to go.

“Please don’t—“

“Hey!”

As soon as Greg had appeared, he was gone, and in his place stood the men you’d been so desperate to find.

Dean was shoving Greg toward the exit, and Sam was right there with him until you called out for him.

Sam turned hesitantly, leaving Dean to deal with the creep as he rushed to you and began to examine you.

“Did he hurt you?” Sam demanded.

You shook your head even as you rubbed your sore shoulder. This didn’t go unnoticed by Sam, who pulled aside your sleeve just enough to see the bruises already forming near your neck. His jaw ticked, and he turned to go after Greg, but you grabbed onto his sleeve to keep him near you.

“Don’t go,” you pleaded, and he relented immediately. The moment his arms wrapped around your shoulders, you all but melted into him. The adrenaline that had been pumping through your veins since the moment the man laid his hands on you now felt like a foreign substance pulsing in you, clogging your lungs and burning your eyes and making your knees weak. Your big brother held your weight up effortlessly, rubbing your back and breathing with exaggerated slowness as an example for you to slow your own ragged, racing breaths.

“You’re ok, you’re ok,” he breathed over and over again. “You’re safe now, I’ve got you.”

“Hey.” Dean’s voice had you peaking out from the safety of Sam’s arms. He was standing next to you now, his knuckles suspiciously bruised and bloodied. “Hey, you ok sweetheart?”

You nodded weakly, still resting against Sam. Dean pulled his jacket off and draped it against your shaking shoulders, and the familiar weight and scent washed over you and seemed to abate the adrenaline in your system, at least a little. You took a slow, deep breath that matched Sam’s.

“Let’s get you to the Impala, ok?” Sam suggested gently. You nodded, and Sam kept his arm around your shoulder as the brothers ushered you out. There wasn’t a moment when you weren’t completely surrounded by their protective presence.

Sam guided you into the back of the Impala before joining Dean in the front seats.

Dean glanced back at you every few seconds in the rearview mirror.

“How’s it going back there?”

“‘M ok,” you mumbled, and Dean’s eyebrows curved downward as his mouth retreated into a thin line.

“Ok,” he sighed, and you knew he didn’t believe you.

It didn’t take long to reach the motel, and once the three of you were settled inside Sam spoke again.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

You shook your head quickly, bringing your legs up to your chest and hugging your knees.

“I’m fine,” you said shakily. “He just—he got a little pushy…and grabby.”

“Grabby?” Dean gritted his teeth. “I knew I should’ve hit him harder.”

“I don’t want to talk about it anymore,” you sighed.

“Ok, ok.” Dean rubbed his face. “I’m sorry.”

“This isn’t your fault,” you said quickly. “It’s not—it’s not that big of a deal.”

“Yes it is,” Dean insisted. “And it’s not going to happen again. Either me or Sam is gonna be with you next time, we’re not gonna leave you alone again, ok?”

You nodded. “Ok, that…that sounds good. In case there’s another time.”

“There’s not gonna be another time,” Sam said, pulling you into his arms. “We’re gonna be there. Always.”

Taglist:

@nyotamalfoy @mrvlxgrl @chocorade @aestheticdaisies @inlovewhithafairytale

[kavlitzlver]

Dating Tom Kaulitz would include…

SFW and NSFW content!

- you both probably have been friends for a long time before, Tom always wanted more but at the same time didn’t want to ruin the friendship you guys had

- being close with the whole band automatically, you definitely need to get along with them (especially Bill)

- not dating just Tom but automatically Bill too because they are always together

- your first kiss definitely happened when you both were drunk and suddenly found great interest in the other

- from that moment on you both couldn’t be “just friends”

- friends with benefits for months before actually getting serious

- having secret make out sessions during concert breaks

- spoils you with gifts

- literally buys you everything you want

- always having his hand on you

- his hand on your thigh while he drives

- or while sitting next to you

- just basically him always touching you no matter where

- he’s so possessive and gets jealous easily that you can now forget talking to any boy that isn’t him

- with good luck he’ll accept you talking to your other male friends

- when he’s jealous he doesn’t say much he just pulls you closer to him by the waist, his hands digging into you while kissing your neck. All that mid talking.

- “Baby you know your mine” constantly being whispered into your ear when you talk to a stranger (male)

- “No one can make you feel as good as I can” he just loves teasing you

- his dick is massive, you cannot walk afterwards, and if you can, he still insists on carrying you around

- Massive breeding kink, he adores filling you up

- means you have to buy a pregnancy test almost every damn week

- When he’s horny and you’re out in public he presses his hard dick against your ass to tease you

- he gets horny from pretty much everything you do

- starting with you just bending down to tie your laces

- he’s just a horny mf

- hates when you play with his hair, but secretly adores it

- kisses all over your body, he’s obsessed with you

- will leave marks during sex to show who you belong to

- will tease his fans when they flirt with him

- “Wonder what my girlfriend will say tonight when I tell her” “Can’t hear ya! Too busy thinking bout my hot girlfriend!” “Y/N does it better!”

- Bill will make him apologize to the crying girls afterwards

- since he doesn’t have much time when touring around, he’ll be on the phone with you every free minute

- phone sex!!!

- quickies everywhere

- literally EVERYWHERE

- he’ll sneak you into the tour bus when you are at one of their concerts

- will look for you in the crowd and not look away ever again during the whole concert

- he’s dom, but likes you to be the lead secretly too

- he’ll just end up whining and begging when you do so

- he makes you cum at the same time as him and doesn’t pull out for quite a time after

- German pet names!!!

- will call you whore, bitch, and all that nasty stuff while fucking you

- sweet pet names like baby, honey, love

- when you had to use the safe word during sex, he’d feel bad for days, getting you all the stuff you love. Snacks, flowers, clothes, just everything you want

- he’ll feel bad even after you told him it was fine

- clingy, so fucking clingy

Let me know if you want a part 2!!