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lovieku · 19 days ago

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DECEMBER ⋆ 정국

being with jeongguk is a gift in itself. this christmas, you’ll show him your gratitude. do whatever is on his list.

⋆⁺₊❅. 3/6 from christmas & chill

pairing dilf!jk x gf!reader

genre smut, fluff, established relationship

warnings jk 31 | oc 22, exhibitionism, public sex kinda, breeding kink, mirror sex, oral (f receiving), condomless p in v sex, oc is on birth control but she won’t be anymore after this, these tags back to back are making me lose it, yeah they’re pretty horny if you couldn’t tell

word count 5.7k

author's note oki this is literally porn with plot but what do you expect me to do with dilf jk in my hands

banner by the perfect @awrkive ⊹₊⟡⋆

“What’s on your Christmas wishlist, doll?”

“I want… I think I want a baby. And then—”

Jeongguk snorts in that way he does when he wants you to think he’s unimpressed, but really he’s just trying to think of something to shut you up, wheels turning in his head, scrambling before your teasing has an unwanted effect that might undo him.

On his couch, he pulls you closer to him as you giggle in his neck, your figure curled up in his embrace, and he caresses the side of your thigh in an impossibly gentle pattern. He’s heat incarnate, a living furnace outdoing even the fireplace softly cracking and reflecting its warmth on your faces in the dimly lit room.

His hand squeezes once, twice, then he finds you ear with his mouth, “Don’t say that.”

You pull back just enough to look at him with the biggest grin, “What’s on your list then, huh?”

Your boyfriend pretends to think it over with unusual indecision, tilting his head up to the ceiling dramatically and leaving his collar bones exposed, giving you the opportunity to further bury yourself in his warmth. Peppering small pecks onto his neck, you sigh into the comfort.

“Since we’re going in that direction,” his low tone scratches his throat and vibrates against your lips, pooling like heat where it always does when he’s this close. He pulls you impossibly tighter to his chest, mouth back to your ear just to whisper with that teasing lilt of his, “I’ve always wanted to fuck you in a public space. With people outside, you know.”

Even with your heart skipping and rolling down the tallest hill, landing right in your lower belly, you hum, feigning nonchalance, though your sarcastic nod doesn’t fool either of you. He looks down at you with a wicked smirk, one point ahead after rendering you speechless. You still try, “Yeah?”

Jeongguk doesn’t miss the chance and strikes gold, “Mhm. And I also want to give you my babies.”

“Shut the fuck up, Jeon. I’m serious.”

The older man’s laughter rings out, light and boyish in a way that doesn’t match the words he let out, nor the feel of his rough hands roaming your body. Even more when his unrelenting fingers find their way to your sides. They press in gently at first, testing. But then he really starts to tickle.

You flinch, stubbornly clamping your lips into a tight line, muscles tensing as you fight the inevitable. You think you’re determined enough not to give him the satisfaction of hearing you break, but when he moves toward your armpits, it’s over.

Your eyes squeeze shut, shoulders twitching, but it’s your mouth that betrays you first. A sharp snort escapes you and is only joined by more and more breathy giggles, air knocked out of you, “Jeongguk, no!”

His grin widens at your plea, voice mockingly stern but tone playful and sweet, “Why are you being such a brat to your old man, huh? So disrespectful.”

You shriek, squeal, the sound dissolving into waves of laughter that shake your entire body, now sprawled on the sofa and desperately trying to run away from his touch. You almost make it. Almost. But Jeongguk is faster, pinning you on the couch and tightening his hold, knees digging on either side of your hips.

The air wheezes out of you when his lips join the tickling on your neck, nipping and kissing between your gasping laughter, his own still lingering like it’s contagious. Your body twists instinctively, “Stop!”

He moves up, nose brushing against yours as he lets his voice drop even lower in a warning, “You know what to say.”

It wasn’t fair. You know what he wants to hear, but your pride digs its heels in, even as you pant for room to breathe. You struggle under him, half-heartedly trying to push his hands away, but when his hands find the sensitive spot behind your knees you just can’t help the way it spills out of you in a panicked laugh, “Sorry, sorry, sorry!”

Jeongguk finally relents, hands falling away as he collapses beside you, joining your breathless amusement. That little chant is the unspoken rule between you two, the one surefire way to end his tickle wars.

The room is silent for the small moment it takes you to even your pumping heart and slowly level your panting. Jeongguk cuddles to your side, body molding effortlessly against yours, and as his arm tightens around your waist, you speak against the space of his chest he’s pressing you into, “I could make both happen for you.”

There’s no drop of subject on your part, your words resounding in the quiet made of your moderating breaths.

Jeongguk snorts again, shuffling down and muffling his low hum in your neck. It’s his way of playing coy and pretending not to take you seriously, but you can feel his grip getting rougher.

Only when you swat him does he shift to look up at you, chin resting lazily between your breasts and lashes fluttering in exaggerated innocence, just like his words, “And how would you do that?”

“Yoongi’s Christmas party next week.”

Jeongguk’s brow quirks upward, “You want me to fuck you with all my friends outside? Didn’t you say you were scared of meeting them?”

It’s your turn to stifle a laugh, lips twitching as you turn your head away in sudden embarrassment. He leaves featherlight pecks along your jaw to quieten his own chuckles, but it only coaxes a smile out of you. You return to him with a soft expression playing on your flushed face, long dimples carving your cheeks, “I did, yes. But it’s only because I want their approval.”

Jeongguk stills for just a second as he studies you. The moment he spots the faintest flicker of genuine worry in the subtle twitch of your brows, his teasing front is thrown completely out of the window.

“Oh, my baby,” he cups your face with both hands, cradling you like his most precious possession, meeting your widening eyes when he tilts your chin. “They’ll love you, okay? It’s about time they meet the reason I’ve been the happiest I’ve ever felt in years.”

The blush creeping up your neck is inevitable, especially when his hand drifts downward, fingers resting lightly on your stomach and moving in soothing circles. A gesture so small yet telling, of how attuned he is to your every shift and need, even the ones you don’t voice.

It’s been almost a year since you and Jeongguk made things official, and the journey has been marked by slow, steady steps. No rush, no racing. Time has felt pliant, stretching out to meet you both at a pace that felt unforced. It gives you room to grow and deepen the bond that only the two of you share, unburdened by the weight of outside pressure.

Both of you have been careful, almost cautious about walking longer distances. Not out of doubt, but out of respect for what you’re building together. It’s not hesitation, it’s intention.

You fucking love this man, more fully than you even thought possible. And you’re more than sure that he’s the one, making all the waiting and searching worth it.

You’ve grown just enough to understand not everyone will accept your dynamic as easily as you’ve come to. You wanted it to feel true — to be true — between the two of you before inviting the outside world into it.

Jeongguk is 31. Successful, experienced, and carrying the scars of a rough divorce. You’re 22, still a student, scraping together what you can to get through each month, too focused on textbooks and exams to know anything about adulthood yet.

By all accounts, your paths should never have crossed in any meaningful way. Yet, they did. You found each other, and you blossomed to love one another. What seemed complicated came down to a feeling so intricate and achingly simple.

There’s no denying love. There’s no grand, pragmatic solution for it. You can’t push it aside just because it doesn’t fit into neat societal boxes. And you can’t push him away.

Still, you’re not blind to how others might see it. Outsiders, with judgments and assumptions, could scoff and accuse you of chasing wealth, or sneer at him and reduce his intentions to shallow desires for a younger distraction.

Those tired, clichéd narratives miss the way your brain quietens when he’s near, his laughter filling gaps in your life you didn’t know were empty. They couldn’t be further from the truth, from what truly binds you together. Love.

And, well, sex. The sex is fucking great. Makes you wonder how you ever lived without it before him.

“The horniest, too,” you quip, deflecting from the fleeting vulnerability with a playful smirk that has Jeongguk groaning, rolling his eyes the same way he’s shifting beneath you to effortlessly maneuver you until you’re lying on top of him.

Jeongguk tilts his head back, dark eyes narrowing in mock challenge as he jumps between your face and the smirk that refuses to fade. His own grin is barely concealed, and his voice drops to a familiar low timbre, “Don’t try anything funny, doll.”

“I’m just saying… I’ll do whatever is on your list.”

────⋆｡˚❆˚ ｡⋆────

Spending your first Christmas wrapped in the warmth of your boyfriend’s presence leaves no room for anything but a jaw-breaking smile that swells your heart. The kind that doesn’t fade, no matter how much your cheeks ache, and twingles with the soft glow of the lights strung around the room. Especially when you get to discover a new side of Jeongguk, one that blooms brighter the more he’s surrounded by his closest friends.

You can see the love in the crinkle of his eyes when he laughs and lets it resound freely, how he eats comfortably without any of the reserved mannerism he sometimes carries in public, the way he tosses out teasing remarks and takes them just as easily. It all makes you feel less nervous, and it soothes the anxiety you’d been carrying.

Still, you stick to his side, either with your leg brushing against his under the table or your fingers intertwining in a touch that seeks for comfort. Though with the hours stretching, you find there’s no real reason to feel intimidated.

Everyone welcomes you like you’ve always been part of Jeongguk, and they were just waiting for you to step into the missing space beside him. It’s in the easy smiles they offer, the warmth in their laughter as they include you in their conversations without hesitation. You settle in that place with sheepish smiles, a soft voice chiming in here and there, and the quiet admiration that fills you each time your gaze follows Jeongguk’s every movement is enough for his friends to see he’s in good hands.

But you can’t ignore the thought that keeps making your head spin every time Jeongguk casually rests a hand on your exposed thigh, fingers digging into the skin like a slow burn.

You might blame it on the baby fever that’s been clinging to you since earlier, making you warm and sugary with emotions, when you witnessed him distracting Yoongi’s daughter from a tantrum while having her sit on his lap, a gentle hand on her back. Which has to be chalked up to your ovulation phase.

Or maybe you can just blame it entirely on him and the sultry voice he used to confess the dirtiest wish on his list nights ago.

After he did, you’ve hinted at it an unhealthy amount of times, more than you’d care to admit, and it always ended the same way. You, folded in half on his bed, strong arms gripping your hips as he rutted into you with an urgency that bordered on desperation and that had you both unraveling with pleasured wails.

It’s become your own desire more than his at this point. An all-consuming thought that refuses to be brushed aside, especially today, on this occasion. The perfect occasion to make it happen. Fuck, get a grip.

The command feels laughably weak in the face of temptation. How could you resist when Jeongguk looks like he does? He’s draped in a warm, Christmas-red sweater that’s practically begging you to be peeled off, its sleeves rolled just enough to reveal glimpses of the tattoos that snake up his forearm, and enough for your thighs to press together. His hair is freshly cut and styled. And on top of everything, he smells deliciously. His scent is just the perfect, intoxicating, masculine mix of aftershave and cologne.

But you think your breaking point is feeling him sneakily leaning closer when he thinks no one is looking, the brush of his breath near your neck, his nose ghosting over your skin as though probing your resolve. And you’re definitely failing the test.

The scrape of your chair against the floor as you stand abruptly startles not only Jeongguk but everyone at the table. Gulping, you stumble on your speech as you ask for directions to the bathroom and the words coming from Yoongi’s mouth barely register in your mind, body moving on autopilot, turning sharply toward the hallway in hopes that your subconscious will guide you the rest of the way.

You miss Jeongguk’s head tilting in adorable confusion, that signature gesture of concern pairing with knitted brows as he watches you disappear. When he glances back at his friends, they just shrug and resume their conversation.

The moment you lock the door behind you with the sound of the latch clicking into place, your back meets the wood with a forceful push, a little too rough, but entirely necessary. You’re desperately trying to knock some needed sense into yourself, and you follow with deep, measured breaths.

To no avail. The persistent buzz low in your belly hums louder, the embarrassingly quick slick heat pooling between your thighs becoming almost unbearable, especially with the thin lace of your panties doing little to ease your discomfort. You had put them on at the prospect of what would follow the dinner. What you’d hoped to save for the privacy of your home, not here.

Not here.

Stepping toward the sink, you grip its cool porcelain edges as though it could pull your composure together. Lifting your eyes to the mirror, you’re met with your own reflection. Wide-eyed, cheeks flushed, lips parted. A look you know all too well.

You reach up to fix your perfectly styled hair, smoothing it down in a feigned attempt to focus on something else that is not this. But the more you try, the more you stare back at your delirious state, the more you question if feeling such an attraction is even sane, healthy.

You can perfectly picture Jeongguk standing behind you, body pressing against yours, hands gliding over your hips, lips finding that sensitive spot just below your ear. Jeongguk would take care of what he’s unconsciously caused, wouldn’t he? He’d work to tick that one wish off his list.

The thought alone has your nails scraping against the cold surface of the counter, and your eyes squeezing shut. It frustrates you to inhumane levels, how easily he reduces you to this pubescent state, as if you’ve never known control.

What makes you release a breathy scoff in the small space is the knowledge that he hasn’t even touched you tonight.

When you feel your phone ping in your purse, you‘re startled out of the dangerous spiral that had nearly pulled your hand beneath the hem of your dress. Your gaze flickers to the mirror, where the vivid reflection of Jeongguk had started to feel too real.

Your fingers clumsily dig past lipstick tubes and stray receipts until they close around the device. The screen lights up with his name, paired with that little bear emoji he insisted on adding beside it.

JJ🧸🎀: Everything ok?

You only hesitate for a moment, fingers hovering over the keyboard. But your thumbs move before your brain can stop them.

You: can u come help me plz

The knock at the door comes almost instantly, unexpected enough to make you stumble before you reach out to twist the handle, pulling the door only as to reveal your figure in the narrow frame.

He nods your chin at you with curious concern, “Let me in?”

Looking up at him with wide, uncertain eyes through long lashes and under drawn up eyebrows, you swear you catch the faintest flicker of something primal in his own.

You step back to let him enter, the small space feeling even smaller with his gaze never once leaving you, tracking your every movement like you’re the only thing in the world worth looking at.

The soft click of the door locking behind him is all it takes for his warm palms to cradle your face, thumbs brushing your cheeks, “Sweetheart, what happened?”

You only shake your head, and his hands slip from their hold on you as your back meets the cool edge of the sink counter behind you. The plush curve of your ass squishes with the pressure, and he briefly darts downward to take in the soft fabric of your dress clinging to your frame before snapping up to meet you again.

“Talk to me,” he urges, almost pleading.

Looking down, you just now notice how your shoe has loosened around your calf, and alternating between his brows dipping low over widened pupils and your heels, you seem to not even be able to control the way your foot trails up your leg in a feigned sheepish demeanor, your cheek resting on your shoulder.

You try to fight the smile by biting on your lower lip, and in the softest voice you surrender to your stubborn, persistent need with a flimsy excuse, “Clasp on this heel is so thin… I can’t close it.”

Jeongguk’s every sense is alert. His eyes follow your line of sight with urgence, ready to cater to your every request, do all it takes to make sure you’re safe, hands twitching at his sides the more his protective instinct kicks in.

But it doesn’t take much longer to detect the real intentions behind your creased forehead in pretend worry, breath catching in your throat the moment you spot the shift in his eyes. Now hooded, heavy.

He looks back up at you just to seek confirmation of your plan all along, and lets an exasperated chuckle escape him when you can only pout enough to make your impatience clear.

Jeongguk hums, taking one step closer until the counter edge digs behind your thighs, your figure almost sitting up on the surface, “Does my girl need help, hm? Is that so?”

It’s useless wasting more time. It’s useless trying to avoid it and pretend this exact moment isn’t what has been dominating your mind the whole day, both too proud to voice it but too naughty to actually suppress it.

So Jeongguk slowly gets down, never once looking away from your expectant eyes, not missing the way your chest gasps. You nod just as sluggish, mouth left slightly agape, too entranced by the look on your boyfriend’s face and his hand settling on your ankle to gently lift your foot and rest it on his propped-up knee.

When he patiently works on the struggle ahead with the tips of his careful fingers delicately brushing against your skin, it’s nearly torture trying to remain composed.

Now done with the pathetic excuse, your shoe properly set in place, Jeongguk is only getting started with the real reason he’s kneeling before you.

Jeongguk doesn’t rise right away. Instead, taking his pointer finger, he traces a teasing line up your calf that causes immediate goosebumps to prickle your skin, betraying just how deeply his actions affect you. He follows the trail up, and up, until reaching the side of your thigh. That’s when he stutters.

With your leg up, the skirt of your mini dress has ridden dangerously high and as a result it does very little to hide what’s underneath it, especially when the lacy panties you chose to wear are barely even doing their original job at covering you.

Chuckling lowly, his jaw clenches, “Baby.”

His vibrating tone runs as a pleasing buzz along your spine, and it has you straightening your posture the more you feel yourself slip under his control. You tilt your head, suddenly not so confident anymore in the game you started.

He slowly blinks up at you, sliced eyes matching perfectly with the wicked smirk on his lips, and the look he reserves you with is intense with something that doesn’t allow to go back, “What is this, huh? Did you plan it?”

You can only shake your head, afraid that if you speak you’re going to give you two away without even starting anything.

And he’s making it extra hard, especially when his digit travels up to your inner thigh, gaze never leaving yours, “Do you always go around with these kinds of panties on, doll?”

Guilty. Of course you don’t. Whole night has been sticky and uncomfortable. So yeah, this was indeed a plan. But now that it succeeded, you’re suddenly not sure how to act upon your own needs, intimidated by the man at your feet. You move your face side to side, faster this time.

Jeongguk gently lets his head fall to the right, his curls jumping with the movement, and he sounds softer than the way his hand is already pushing your leg to the side, “What do you want me to do, hm?”

It’s impossible to keep the moan you were forcing down your throat with his firm touch on your burning skin. It gets a chuckle out of him, and the subtle tinge of degradation has you pushing yourself further into his face, mere centimetres apart from your embarrassingly wet core.

He seems totally unfazed by your desperation, keeping his eyes trained on your face no matter how great the temptation to just dive into you already is. Jeongguk can smell you, and he could just lean forward a bit more to have the tip of his nose brush against your clit. But he resists.

He nods his chin up to you, his breath fanning over your clothed pussy, and he keeps the challenge up, ignoring the way your eyebrows draw up and paint you in deliriousness, “Use your words. Tell me what you need.”

Even in your haze, you’re mindful to keep your tone down, and the otherwise loud whine escapes you in the form of a whimper, your tummy going up and down with your panting and your thighs unconsciously parting in an attempt to have him pay attention to what clearly doesn’t need to be explained.

Jeongguk doesn’t want to act upon clues, though. You put both of you in this situation, and now he simply wants to know why.

Gulping at his intense gaze not once leaving your shaking and blown out pupils, you whisper a strained plea, “I want you to touch me. Been thinking about this all night.”

His condescending smile is accompanied by a long, belittling hum, his eyes finally dropping low to inspect the wet patch expanding from your clenching hole. From where it had flattened around your knee, Jeongguk lets his palm travel under your dress and across your lower tummy, caressing it while subtly letting his thumb brush past the hem of your panties.

You jut your hips forward, feverish with the minimum stimulation of his breath against your sex, but you’ll learn the hard way to not be so impatient, your boyfriend’s hand pressing against your stomach to push you back down on the counter.

The pressure feels nice, and he knows it. There’s no uncalculated action in the way he touches you; he’s memorised what your every sound of pleasure corresponds to. Nonetheless, he keeps taunting you.

Keeping his hand cupping the skin around your navel, he uses his other calloused one to spread your legs open and allow himself to have you. Or at least you think so, before he uses his lips to further tease you, his tongue skimming the wet spots on the inside of your thighs without never even brushing the pulse and center of all your needs.

Before you can protest and fully push yourself on him, he looks up at you with a warning ready on his lips, “Be fucking quiet, doll, I swear.”

And it’s like he does it on purpose, because he willingly doesn’t give you any time to prepare and just latches at your wetness through the slicked material, making it hard to stifle the first moan threatening to topple out of you.

The pace he picks up is torturous, and his saliva blending with your own wetness causes your panties to stick uncomfortably in between your puffy lips. You huff, protest ready on your tongue, but Jeongguk precedes you and pulls the piece to the side, not once detaching from your weeping cunt, the sudden coldness of the room that hits your exposed folds immediately being replaced with his warm desire.

He doesn’t have time to scold you for your behaviour, but oh, he will. The way you’re clutching tightly on his hair and rutting into his lapping tongue, struggling to keep your noises down; how you impatiently rush him to get you to that high you desperately seek. You were never granted permission.

So, he allows himself to be just a bit mean to you, his licking along your slit slow and fleeting, almost imperceptible, his grip poking harsh cavities in your skin that will leave marks. Not that you mind.

When he growls lowly against you with his nose brushing your most sensitive spot, it’s your clue to push the testing-his-patience to the side and maybe act less like a brat. There’s no time, and you really want — need — whatever he’s willing to give you.

With a hand curling around the edge of the counter, you use the other to stifle your moans, and his approving nod vibrates with a hum and pulses with your clenching hole. He starts to lap at your core now, engulfing your lips and nuzzling himself closer to your entrance.

“You’re so bad,” it comes out slurred and muffled, but the humiliation settles in you with a pleasing buzz that has your hips stuttering when he nudges your center with the tip of his tongue. The sound you let out in response is close to a cry that you quickly swallow, fighting hard to be obedient and keep down, even more when he continues with his belittling comments against your throbbing walls, “First on the naughty list this year, huh.”

As much as the both of you love the chase, Jeongguk knows he has to get you close to a breaking point if he doesn’t want the others to suspect your absence. That’s why he moves his warm muscles up to your clit and lets his two digits join the stimulation, only causing more slickness to smear a mess between your legs.

Your body involuntarily runs after the cruel curling of his fingers, forcing their space inside your mushy walls, warm and clutching around him the more his tongue picks up its pace. You can feel him panting against you, and his laboured breaths only work to bring you to the ecstasy you’ve been daydreaming about for days now.

He does exactly what it takes last to undo you, speaking between trails of your stickiness and efforts to slurp every single drop of it you offer him, “C’mon, pretty. Cum before the others find you like this.”

You choke on a gasped moan, your body convulsing with the incessant provocation and the attempt at keeping louder sounds stifled behind strained whines. Jeongguk gulps down your essence, lapping at every corner of your core to make sure he doesn’t miss none of the reason you’re shaking for.

Only when you unconsciously try to avoid his grip on you does he detach from you, letting his devilish gaze drag up, slowly along with his body. Before he gives the two of you any possibility of speaking, he crashes onto you, mouth chasing yours in a kiss that has you tasting your own self mixed with him.

He pants, moving with a smirk on his glossy, puffy lips, “Satisfied?”

The breathy giggle fanning against him lets him know that you are far from that, “Didn’t you say something about fucking me? You seem hard.”

“God, I can never make that pretty mouth of yours shut up, huh. You want my cock? That what you badly want?”

It was never this easy to get Jeongguk to give in so quickly to your bed requests. Usually, it was a game of hunting, of resistance, of testing the other’s resolve to see who would break first. But now, it’s different, and there’s no hesitation in the way he tugs at his pants, breath ragged and his focus entirely on you.

The moment his length is freed, already hard from eating you out and throbbing with need, he doesn’t wait for permission—he never has to with you. You realize how completely your moans and whimpers have filled the air and how incapable you are at quietness.

How can you be when the sound of him slapping his thick shaft against your lower stomach sends a new jolt of arousal coursing through your body?

“Lay back,” Jeongguk rasps, nudging you with his hips, and you obey without question, your palms supporting your weight on the counter.

He lets his tip drag over your slick folds before pushing his whole cock in, the suddenty of the action meeting your anticipation with a gasp leaving both your mouths.

Jeongguk only forces himself deeper, quickly adjusting to a preferred pace once he checks that you’re okay with a small nod. Because he knows it’ll be hard to slow down once you give him the go ahead.

He’s never been this embarrassingly close from simple teasing and foreplay, but his thrusts become stammered almost too early, and he thinks it has everything to do with you granting his only wish on his Christmas list and being so eager to tick it off for him.

He wants to do it for you, too, “Fuck, baby. I’ll cum inside you, hm? Keep all my mess stuffed in your tight hole. Make your wish come true.”

The implications behind his slurred speech have your eyes rolling to the back of your head, mouth hanging open to release your every breathy whimper. Jeongguk knows you’re on the pill, and for this exact reason it’s not the first time he finishes in you.

Yet, the shift in his tone and the reasons he decided to speak that last sentence cause you to throb uncontrollably in overstimulation around his thick length, making it a struggle for him to slide easily into you.

Making your wish come true, the one you jokingly whispered to him on your couch a week ago, means one thing. The knowledge of Jeongguk wanting to fill you with his babies moves something so deeply instilled within you that you can’t help the wail escaping you, immediately burying your face in the curve of his broad shoulder and biting at the skin.

He has to fight just as hard when he feels your pussy contract, knows you’re getting closer again, feels himself dangerously near to breaking as well, mouth parted and brows knitted, delirium washing over his face.

Lifting his gaze up from your enthralling orbs, he catches sight of your tangled bodies in the mirror behind you and groans, clutching your hips tighter to angle himself just enough to perfectly witness himself sinking in you at a relentless speed in the reflection.

“Oh doll, fuck,” his expression is hard and focused, the way his jaw ticks only adding to the feverish look, and his voice is rough from the whispering, “Look behind. Look at us in the mirror, how well you’re taking me.”

You manage to weakly turn your head enough to witness your naked bodies blending together at your centers, his muscled hands tightly clutching at you and digging marks that will leave their signs for a while.

Weakly, your head falls back and you let a particularly loud whimper flow freely out of you. Jeongguk would be a hypocrite if he were to shut you up, because his own grunts resonate against the empty walls the more he buries his greedy length in you.

He hopes the music he convinced the others to put on before leaving the room to check on you in the bathroom is enough to pad the inglorious sounds of skin meeting and breaths shortening.

The noises seem to suddenly alarm you to the point of cradling the side of his face with your soft palm and moving him to you, just to catch his mouth with yours in a kiss that’s all teeth and spit, that vibrates with the moans you struggle to swallow.

His pounding stutters the more he fucks into you, and he manages a few flicks at your clit before thrusting hard and steady, once, twice, three times, emptying himself in you. The warm feeling of his white semen filling you to the brim comes with a new emotion tonight, and you pulse around him in your second climax.

There’s no time to recover from the high when his whispered plea meets your ear, “Baby. Need to fuck you again.”

You pant, thoughts confused, speech slurred, “What?”

“Let me take you home, c’mon. I wanna pump you full of me again, and again, and again. Until you can feel it, can’t escape it.”

The intensity in his eyes conveys a love that contrasts deliciously with the lust still clouding the stuffy bathroom, his lips closing around pecks down your jaw, then under it, then along your neck.

You’re hoping that what he’s saying is exactly what you want it to be, “Jeongguk…”

Cradling your face, he speaks against your mouth, “I love you so much, doll. We’re making it happen. Let me practice for now, hm?”

A smile parts its way across your face, soft and full, and you can’t suppress it even if you tried, even when you try, “But the others—”

“Need you. Now.”

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kirammanswifey · 5 days ago

Text

arcane characters breaking up with you x fem reader

characters: viktor, jinx, vi, caitlyn, jayce, ekko, silco, mel and sevika.

writer's note: gosh i loovee drama i'ts so spicy and fun! btw i cried a lot with ekko's... anyways request are open, darlings ;)

reconciliation link:

alternative sad final link:

Viktor

The laboratory was shrouded in a deep silence, the kind of silence that feels heavy, as if the air itself was dense, pressing down on your chest. The light from the screens flickered in the darkness, casting shadows that moved with the rhythm of the science Viktor had created. He was there, motionless in front of the table covered in blueprints, his head lowered, as if struggling with something he couldn’t share.

You stood there for a moment, watching him in silence, waiting for him to break the silence, but something in his posture told you he wouldn’t. The distance between you felt greater than you could bear, and the knot in your stomach grew heavier with each passing second. Finally, you couldn’t take it any longer.

“Viktor…” Your voice trembled, but you forced it to sound strong. Every word felt like a challenge to your own fear. “What’s going on?”

He didn’t look at you, but his shoulders tensed. The sigh that escaped his lips was full of something you couldn’t recognize. It wasn’t frustration, nor exhaustion. It was something worse, something you already feared.

“You don’t understand, do you?” he finally said, his voice low but clear. “I can’t stop now. This is bigger than us. I can’t lose what I’ve been building. The machine… the transformation… It’s the only way to save myself, to save us.”

A cold shiver ran down your spine. It couldn’t be. You were sure you must have misheard, but the words kept echoing in your head like a drumbeat. It wasn’t just about science. It wasn’t just his obsession. Viktor was pushing you away. And the pain, the pain was unbearable.

You stepped forward, your heart pounding in your throat. How could he do this to you?

“Is that all I am to you?” Your voice was a whisper, but the venom of desperation was there, cutting through your words. “An obstacle? Something you have to leave behind? All this time, everything I’ve done for you… And this is what I get?”

Finally, Viktor looked at you. But it wasn’t the look you expected. His eyes, so cold, so distant, weren’t the eyes of the person you had known. It wasn’t the Viktor you had protected, the one you had loved. It was someone else, someone who no longer saw in you what they once did.

“I do love you, you know?” he said, his voice broken, as if the words were becoming harder and harder to say. “I love you more than you can imagine, but this… this is bigger than us. This is the future, and I can’t risk losing it because… because of something as small as my own feelings.”

The words came out of his mouth as though they were the only thing left inside him. And you, standing there in front of him, felt the ground crumbling beneath your feet. The pain, the betrayal, cut through you like blades.

“And what about us, Viktor?” you said, unable to stop the mix of anger and sadness in your voice. “What about everything we’ve shared? Everything we’ve been through together? Doesn’t that mean anything? Nothing to you?”

He took a step back, each word he spoke a wall being built between you two. With each word, you felt smaller, more invisible. As if he had already made his choice.

“I can’t go on. I can’t be the person you need. If I stay… if I stay with you, all of this… everything I’ve built, everything I am, will crumble. I can’t be that person anymore.”

The pain overwhelmed you in an instant. A silent sob began to rise, but you didn’t let it escape. The knot in your throat tightened, but the words couldn’t come out anymore. You felt empty, as if the air you were breathing was the same air that had killed everything that once meant something to you.

“Then, goodbye, Viktor.” Your words were a broken whisper. “I can’t wait for you to choose between me and your obsessions. I won’t stay here, watching you lose yourself in something you don’t even know what it is.”

Viktor didn’t say anything more. There was no attempt to stop you, no plea, not even a look of regret. Just the sound of his breathing, shallow, as if something inside him was breaking too, but it was too late.

The door slammed shut behind you, the sound of the wood ringing in your ears. And Viktor, inside, remained alone with his experiments, his machines, and the man who had decided that everything else had to go.

Jinx

You approached her softly, as you always did, trying to calm her, trying to make her focus on you again. But you knew this wasn’t the same Jinx who used to laugh and be unpredictable. Something in her gaze told you she had gotten lost, that her thoughts were no longer hers, that the chaos in her mind had taken control.

Suddenly, Jinx stopped moving. She stood still, staring into the void, and everything around her grew quieter. Then, she began to murmur, as if speaking to herself, but her words weren’t clear. You grew concerned, stepping closer, but that was when her body reacted violently, out of control.

You didn’t understand what was happening until you felt the sting of a blow. You hadn’t seen it coming, but the pain hit you instantly. In that moment, fear took over, and your body trembled as you tried to comprehend the magnitude of what had just happened. Jinx looked at you, but her eyes weren’t focused on you. She was trapped, lost in a hallucination.

The voices started. “Kill her! She’s going to betray you, Jinx! Kill her before she leaves you!” The voice was cruel, disdainful, so cold. And then, another voice, softer but equally terrifying: “She hates you. She doesn’t want you, Jinx. Let her go before you do it again!”

You froze, watching the confusion in her eyes, the terror on her face. This wasn’t her. This wasn’t the Jinx you knew. She was caught in an internal struggle, a battle that you couldn’t fight for her.

You stepped closer to her, despite the blood dripping from your nose and your trembling hands. Jinx was crouched down, her eyes lost in an empty space, her hands covering her face as if she could hide the pain and chaos she had just caused. But you knew you couldn’t run from this. You couldn’t leave her now. Not after everything you’d been through together. And not after the promise you made to her.

“Sweets,” you whispered, so softly that you weren’t even sure she could hear you. “Please, look at me.”

Tears kept falling from her eyes, but she didn’t see you. Jinx didn’t see you. And the blow she had struck you moments ago seemed like a distant memory compared to what was happening now: the emptiness she was feeling. The war in her head.

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry…” she whispered, her voice broken, shattered. “I didn’t want… I didn’t want to hurt you. I can’t… I can’t do it again. I… I hurt you.”

You knelt in front of her, searching for her eyes, feeling the knot in your throat. But she wouldn’t look at you. She was trapped. And you knew what that meant.

“Wake up, babe,” you said firmly, taking her hands. “I promised you. I won’t leave you. Not now, not ever.”

The voices in her mind began to rumble, like an overwhelming wave, growing louder, rougher. “She’s going to kill you! Kill her before it’s too late! It’s best for her! Do it now!”

“No… no,” Jinx said, covering her ears as if she could silence them. “No… I’ll hurt you… I don’t want to lose you! I swear I don’t want to hurt you, but I’m a monster!”

You stood up, forcing Jinx to look at you, taking her by the shoulders. “You’re not a monster. You’re not, Jinx. I promised you I wouldn’t leave you. I promised!”

But Jinx started sobbing, with a desperation so deep it hurt to see her like this. “You… you don’t understand. I’m the cause of all this. I’m the worst for you… It’s going to hurt so much if I stay close. You’re going to die! I’m the reason why you…”

“No!” you interrupted, gripping her hands tightly. “Don’t say that. I’m not leaving. I need you. You’re the only one who… who has understood me. Don’t leave me. I promised I’d be by your side.”

Jinx pulled away from you with a sigh, her face filled with guilt and desperation. “You deserve something better, something… more. You don’t have to stay. You don’t have to put up with my madness, you don’t have to stay for me.”

“I don’t want to be with anyone else!” you shouted, desperate. “You’re what I want. You’re what I’ve always wanted. Don’t leave me!”

But Jinx walked away, her steps wavering but firm. “I can’t… I don’t want to be the cause of your death, the cause of… the worst. You’ve given me everything, you’ve given me more than I deserve, but… you could be happy without me. I’m a burden, a curse. And… and I don’t want to lose you more. I don’t want to kill you.”

The voices in her mind grew more intense, more cruel: “Do it! Let her go, Jinx! She’s better off without you.”

“Wait!” you screamed, your eyes filled with tears. “You’re not a burden! I love you, Jinx, I love you! I promised I wouldn’t leave you alone, and I won’t leave you now!”

But Jinx’s words were clear, heartbreaking. “You… you’d be happy without me. I’m the reason for all the pain, for everything that’s made you suffer. And if I stay… I’ll hurt you, I’ll always do it.”

Jinx took a step back, her heart breaking inside, while you kept holding on to her. “I’m leaving. Because… because if I stay close, I’ll do the same thing as always. And you… don’t deserve that.”

“No,” you whispered, your voice broken but determined. “I need you. I need you, Jinx.”

But she was already so lost in her own mind that she couldn’t hear you.

She looked at you for a long moment, her eyes filled with guilt and sadness, and with a painful sigh, she turned away. “I��m sorry… I swear. I’m so sorry.” And in that instant, she left you behind.

When you enter the house, the sound of Vi limping towards you makes you take a step forward. You stay still, observing her wounds: a black eye, swollen lips, blood still dripping from a cut on her arm.

"Vi," you begin, anger taking over you, "You can't keep doing this! I can't see you like this! For a few damn coins? I can pay for everything you need, whatever you want, you don't have to do this!"

Vi shoots you a glaring look, her breath heavy from the effort, but her pride intact. "What do you know, huh? What the hell do you know about sacrifice? About fighting to survive, about having no other option but to fuck yourself over to get more than scraps?"

"You don't have to fight, Vi. You don't have to risk your life like this, for a few damn coins. I can give you whatever you want!" you shout, tears threatening to spill, the helplessness making your voice tremble. "I don't want you to hurt yourself for pride! I want you, and you're killing me seeing you like this!"

Vi takes a step back, her look as hard as stone. "I don't need anything from you! No money, no help! I can take care of myself, do you hear me? I'm not your damn fragile doll, I'm not your entertainment! I'm not your fucking fun."

"It's not that! It's not fun, I care about you, Vi! I can't stand seeing you destroy yourself over something so stupid!" Your breathing grows more ragged, your heart pounding hard in your chest. "I don't want you to keep destroying yourself for pride!"

Vi laughs bitterly, her tone cruel. "You think you're the only one who knows what it is to suffer? You think just because you're some princess from Piltover you can judge me for what I do, for what I am? You've never had to fight for anything in your life! You were born in a fucking silk bed, surrounded by luxuries, and you don't know what it's like to live in the shit, in the mud of Zaun."

The poison in her words hits you like a slap. "Why do you judge me like that when you know it's not true? I've told you, I want to help you, get you out of this shitty life that's consuming you."

Vi takes another step back, her eyes full of disdain. "And what, now you want to make me your project? Your experiment? A poor girl from Zaun who can throw her whole world away just so you can feel better about yourself? Is that what you want? To have a 'girl from the slums' story? I bet you'd get bored of me! Of me and what I am!"

Your words choke in your throat, the truth of her accusations ripping through the air between you. Vi keeps staring harshly, stepping back again. "I'm not what you need, and that's it. I don't want you to be my savior, I don't want to be your fucking project. I'm not going to stay here, waiting for you to cure me, to turn me into something I'm not."

"Vi..." you whisper, tears now falling uncontrollably from your face. "Why... why are you doing this to me?"

"Because we don't have to be together. If I stay with you, I'll just kill you too." Vi takes one last step back, and her voice softens, but not enough to stop the damage. "I don't want to be your fun anymore, I don't want to be your damn experiment. I want you to be happy, to live your life. Far from me."

The silence says it all. Vi turns around, and before you can say anything else, she leaves, leaving you alone in the cold space, with only your tears and her broken words remaining.

Caitlyn

The light in the cell is dim, the coldness of the place surrounds you as you stand there, completely in shock. The shackles on your wrists are a brutal reminder of what just happened. You can't believe it. Caitlyn, the woman who showed you love, the one you thought would never hurt you, has left you here, between these cold and dark walls.

The door creaks open, and there she is, Caitlyn. Her face, usually full of compassion and determination, is now empty, almost indifferent. You watch her approach, and for a moment, you hope she'll come to free you, that she'll tell you it was all a misunderstanding. But no.

"Why?" you manage to say, your voice broken with pain. "Cait... do you really think I could betray you?"

She doesn't answer immediately. She just looks at you with eyes full of conflict, her face serious, even cold. The tension in the air is palpable, and you can see the internal struggle in her. Finally, she sighs, and her words come out of her mouth like a sentence.

"I don't know," she replies coldly. "You're under suspicion now. I can't let you escape."

The weight of her words falls on you like a stone. Your heart stops for a moment, and a lump in your throat prevents you from speaking. You can't believe what you've just heard. The woman who swore to protect you, the one who shared your bed and your laughter, now accuses you of being a traitor.

"But... I just wanted to bring peace, Caitlyn," you whisper, feeling how despair is consuming you. "How can you think I would do something like that? I didn't want to hurt anyone. I just wanted..." The words break in your throat, and the anguish in your chest is unbearable. "Do you really think I'll be capable of lying to you and cause a revolution?"

Caitlyn closes her eyes for a moment, as if she’s searching for answers she can’t find. "I can't risk it, I can't let what you did go unanswered," she says, her voice harder now. "My duty is to Piltover, to justice. I can't be weak."

You step closer to her, hands outstretched, tears overflowing from your eyes. "Caitlyn, please, don't do this to me... I'm not the traitor you think I am. I love you. We promised we'll always have each other's back. Don't you remember that?"

She takes a step back, and her expression hardens even more. "I'm sorry," she says with a broken voice, but her eyes show no regret. "I'm sorry, but I have to do this. I can't let you remain free, not after everything you've put into doubt."

And before you can say anything else, Caitlyn turns her back to you, her footsteps moving away. "I'll keep you in the cell until everything is resolved," she says without turning. "But I can't trust you now."

The door slams shut with a metallic noise, and the sound of the locks clicking into place is all you hear. You fall to your knees, the anguish overtaking you. All you wanted was to be with her, to do the right thing, but now you're here, a prisoner of a justice you don't understand. The betrayal hurts, not because it was done to you, but because the person you love most has now turned their back on you.

Jayce

The conversation had started calmly, like all the others. But something had changed. The tension in the air grew as the words left your lips, and you could see the discomfort on Jayce's face.

"Jayce, enough," you say, your words full of frustration. "I know you want to do great things, but not at the cost of everything else. You can't keep sacrificing everything for your ambition."

He looks at you, surprise and annoyance mixing in his eyes. "I don't understand what you mean," he replies, his tone tense. "Do you think I'm doing this just for myself? I'm fighting for a better future for everyone."

"You don't see it, Jayce!" you shout, unable to contain the emotion choking you. "You've forgotten about the people who really matter to you. Everything you do is for power, for control, for your image. There's no place for me in your life, no space for what we are."

Jayce crosses his arms, his gaze harder than ever. "Is that what you think? That everything I do makes no sense? I'm trying to save Piltover, build something bigger than us. And what do you want? For me to give you more time to be by your side? For everything to revolve around you?"

The pain pierces your chest like a dagger. "It was never about that, Jayce," you say with a broken voice. "I always wanted to be by your side, support you in what you do. But I feel like a shadow. Like you can never see me, like my life, my dreams, everything I am, isn't enough."

He takes a step back, and the distance between the two of you seems to grow with every word that leaves his mouth. "You don't understand," he says coldly, his eyes now so distant. "What I do is bigger than anything I could offer you. If you can't understand that, if you can't meet me at my level, then maybe we're not what we thought we were."

"What are you saying?" you ask, feeling your heart flip. "Are you telling me that everything we've been doesn't matter? That I'm not enough for you?"

Jayce takes a deep breath, as if trying to calm his own thoughts before speaking. "It's not that. But I'm tired of you asking me to put you above everything I'm trying to build. If that means losing you, then..." his voice cracks for a second, but he recovers quickly. "Then it's what I have to do."

An emptiness opens in your stomach, and the world seems to crumble around you. "So you're leaving me. Just like that, as if I never meant anything to you." You look at him with disappointment.

Jayce lowers his gaze, avoiding your eyes, and his words hit like a blow. "I don't want you dragging me backward. You have to understand, I can't do this anymore."

Tears well up in your eyes, but you don't let them fall. "If that's what you want, Jayce, if that's what you really think is best for you, then goodbye. I hope you don't lose yourself on your way to perfection."

And in that moment, the words between you become empty. Jayce turns around, without even looking at you one more time, and walks away without saying another word. You stand there, in the middle of the place you once considered your refuge, while the echo of his indifference lingers in your ears.

Ekko

The house is silent, but the air is thick with tension. Ekko's gaze, which usually radiated passion and energy, now seems empty, lost in thoughts that don't include you. You watch him from the door, the knot in your throat preventing you from speaking.

"Ekko," you manage to say, your voice almost breaking, "I can't take it anymore."

He looks at you, seeming surprised, but he doesn't approach. The silence stretches between you two, as if you both know what's coming but neither of you wants to say it.

"What can't you take anymore?" his voice is low, as if he's too exhausted to argue. "What do you want me to do, huh? I'm doing what I have to do for Zaun, for everyone here. I can't just stop. I can't anymore."

"Can't stop? Are you really saying that?" Anger begins to take control, and helplessness mixes with pain. "Ekko, I've been watching you disappear more and more into your missions, your plans, everything that keeps you busy in Zaun. And I... what am I to you? A nuisance? A distraction?"

Ekko takes a step back, the exhaustion on his face becoming more evident. "It's not that, but..." He falls silent for a moment, as if words aren't enough to explain how he feels. "I can't keep living in two worlds, in two realities, and you know it. Zaun needs all of me, and you... you don't understand what that means. I can't be the Zaun guy and be your boyfriend at the same time."

"So, all of this was a mistake?" you ask, desperation about to drown you. "Everything we shared? Everything we built? Doesn't that matter? Does Zaun matter more?"

"Yes, sometimes it matters more," Ekko replies, his voice cold, but his gaze betrays him. "You... you're part of my life, I know. But I have to be objective and realistic, and no matter how much I love you, right now, you can't be a priority in my life. I can't be who you want me to be anymore. I can't be the guy who fights for you and for Zaun at the same time. I need to be one or the other, and Zaun needs me now."

"And I need you too," you say, the pain in your words, "but you don't see it anymore, do you? I'm not enough, I'm not what you need. I feel used and stupid," you said angrily, kicking a chair.

Ekko looks at you, his gaze wavering, as if there's an internal struggle he can't win. "Believe me, no one wants this to work more than I do, baby, but I... I'm not capable of giving you what you want, and neither are you to me."

The silence stretches into what feels like an eternity. You approach him, desperation overtaking you. "Ekko, please. Think about it one more time, we can't leave things like this. You've taught me to fight. Isn't it worth fighting for this?"

"Sometimes there are battles that aren't worth fighting because you know you'll never win them," he said, his words burning like acid in his throat. He kissed your forehead and stepped away from your personal space. "I'm sorry..." he murmured, and for a moment, he seemed tempted to hug you, but he didn't. "I'm sorry. But this is what's best for both of us."

The words destroy both of you.

Reality hits you like a bucket of cold water in the middle of winter. Everything you'd feared, everything you'd known deep in your heart, is happening. Ekko is pulling away, and even though you understand, you can't accept that the love you shared is no longer enough to keep him.

"Is this for real?" you ask, tears falling uncontrollably. "Is this what you're giving me? A cold goodbye because Zaun is more important than me?"

"Zaun needs a leader," Ekko replies, his voice broken but resolute. "And I need to be that leader. I can't be what you need, not now."

You stand there, feeling how the void between you grows larger, as Ekko turns and walks away, taking with him the last hope of what once was.

Silco

The rain hit the windows of Silco's office with force, the sound almost deafening as you leaned against the wall, breathing irregularly. You had been rescued again, once more on the brink of death, another attempt on your life, and once again, Silco was there to save you. But something in his gaze, cold, distant, made you fear the worst. You didn’t understand what was happening, but something had changed. Something in him.

“This is over,” he said after a long pause.

“What do you mean by that?” Your voice trembled.

Silco looked at you, his eyes filled with something you couldn’t read, something darker than the usual shadow he carried. He took a step toward you, but his presence was no longer comforting. His gaze remained fixed, as if he was deliberately pushing you away from him.

“It’s for the best,” his tone was low, almost hesitant, but the coldness in his words made you freeze. “I can't keep exposing you to this. You don't belong in this world. I can’t risk you anymore.”

“What are you saying?” Your words barely came out, drowned by the pain of his cold resolve. “Silco… you don’t have the right to decide for me. I choose to stay, I choose to remain here by your side.”

He let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head as he took another step back. “You don’t understand,” he said, his voice deeper than ever. “I don’t want to protect you anymore. You’re a burden, a burden I can’t carry any longer. I’m tired of you.”

The blow was like a stab to the chest. You couldn’t believe what you had just heard. “What? You’re tired of me?” Your words came out choked, unable to grasp the cruelty he had just expressed.

“The rumors are true,” he said with a harshness that froze the air between you both. “I’ve only seen you as a little distraction. A good pet. A weakness. Nothing more. I had fun, yes, but that’s over. I’ve found something better.”

“No… that can’t be…” you said, but when you saw the coldness in his eyes, something inside you shattered.

Silco didn’t respond immediately. His gaze remained fixed on you, and for a moment, everything felt like a lie. Then, with a cruel indifference, he said, “You were never my equal. You were just a pastime, something I could have for myself. Something no one else could have. But you're replaceable. We all are.”

“That’s not true,” you whispered, struggling against the knot in your throat. “How can you say that?”

“I’m getting tired of repeating myself. I don’t want you in my life anymore. You’re no longer useful to me, you only bring me problems,” his voice was now firm, unyielding. “So go. I don’t need any more weaknesses in my life.”

The words were like a sentence. Everything you had ever felt for him, everything you had believed you shared, crumbled in that moment. There was nothing left. With your heart shattered, you took a deep breath and, without another word, turned away.

As you walked toward the door, the echo of your footsteps filled the empty office. Silco watched you, but did nothing to stop you. There was nothing left to say.

When the door closed behind you, silence filled the room. Silco stood there, in the darkness, his fists clenched, the pain in his chest stronger than any wound he had ever suffered before. For the first time in years, a single tear ran down his face. But no one saw it. He was alone, and that was all he deserved.

Mel

Mel's bedroom was silent, illuminated only by the faint light of the early morning hours. The bed, still messy, bore witness to a night of passion, but also to something much deeper that had been growing between the two of you. The sheets, tangled together, seemed to reflect the tension that now filled the space. The room, which had once been a warm refuge, was now soaked in a thick, suffocating atmosphere.

You sat on the edge of the bed, watching how Mel lay with her back to you, her face hidden in the pillow, breathing irregularly, as if she were still searching for something she couldn’t find. It wasn’t physical exhaustion that was affecting her, but something much deeper.

"Mel..." you said, your voice low but filled with an anguish you couldn’t control. “What’s happening between us?”

She didn’t move at first, as if she hadn’t heard you, but the weight of your words finally reached her. She turned over, and when her eyes met yours, something in her gaze made you fear the worst. It wasn’t the look of the woman you loved. It was something much more distant, something you couldn’t understand.

"I'm sorry... I can't keep doing this," she said, her voice, though soft, tinged with a hardness you couldn’t ignore. "I can't keep dragging you into this."

"What do you mean?" you asked, unable to comprehend what she had just said. "I won’t let you push me away. I won’t allow it."

Mel sighed and sat up, her eyes reflecting an exhaustion that seemed to surpass the physical. "It’s not about that... I don’t want to keep exposing you to all of this," she said, pressing her lips together with a determination that hurt. "I’m putting you in danger. It’s not fair to you."

"I don’t care," you replied, moving closer to her, your words heavy with desperation. "I don’t care what happens. All I want is to be with you."

But Mel didn’t give in, and instead of softening, her expression hardened even more. "You don’t understand, do you? I... I’m not enough for you. I can’t be what you need. I can’t keep being this, being... who I am."

"And what are you, Mel?" you asked, pain clear in your voice. "Ambessa’s daughter? The woman who lives under her shadow, trying to be someone she’ll never be? You’re not just that. You’re not. You’re... you’re the woman I want, the woman I love. But you keep running from it."

Mel, hearing your words, took a step back, as if an invisible force had pushed her away. The look in her eyes was painful, as if your words had struck her to the core. "You don’t get it. You don’t know what it’s like to be Ambessa’s daughter," she said, her voice cracked with frustration. "You don’t know what it’s like to do everything for her, for her approval."

"No I don't," you replied, unable to hold back the heat of your own truth. "But what I know is what it’s like to try to be what others want. To try to please someone who’ll never see you for what you truly are. And still, you stay there, looking for something you can’t even define."

Mel fell silent, her face paling with each of your words, but you wouldn’t stop. Not after everything you’d tried. "I’m telling you, I don’t care what you do. I don’t care if you have to live under her shadow forever. I just want to be with you. But you... you can’t see that you’re losing what matters most. What you have left. What we could be."

"It’s just that I can’t... I can’t give it all up for you," she whispered, her gaze lost, almost disoriented. "I’m not enough for you. I can’t be."

"Why do you keep saying that?" you said, your voice breaking. "Why do you keep seeking her approval? You don’t have to be her perfect daughter, Mel. You have to be you. But you keep seeking her love, and you’ll never find it. It will never be enough for her. And as long as you stay there, you keep losing yourself."

She closed her eyes, as if your words pierced her, but she didn’t say anything more. The silence between you two became unbearable, and finally, Mel looked down, tears welling up in her eyes. "I’m telling you, I can’t keep going with you," she murmured, and this time it wasn’t a doubt, it was a statement.

You stayed there, frozen, unable to move a muscle. "What?" you whispered, unable to believe what she had just said.

"What I’m saying is that... I can’t keep being what you need. I can’t be happy like this. I can’t keep fighting for something I don’t have."

You couldn’t believe it, the words slipped from your mouth, but they didn’t find the right form to come out. "But, Mel, you don’t have to be what they want. You don’t have to live under her shadow. Why don’t you see it? I don’t want you for what you are to others, I want you for what you are to me."

Mel looked at you then, and for a moment, you thought everything could be resolved. But the look in her eyes wasn’t the same anymore. It was empty, sad, as if she had given up everything she once was. "I can’t stay here, I can’t keep doing this," she murmured, and with those words, she turned away, walking away from you.

Your heart shattered, but it wasn’t the pain that stopped you. It was the anguish of knowing that, despite everything you shared, she would never be able to leave that shadow, that need to please her mother.

And as she walked away, the words echoed in your mind over and over again: "I’ll never be enough. I’m not enough for her. I’m not enough for you."

Sevika

You find yourself with Sevika in her usual spot, where the world seems to stand still, surrounded by ruins and rubble. The atmosphere is thick with silence, but there's something in her eyes you can't ignore. There's tension in the air, as if a conflict is about to erupt.

"Sevika," you call, your heart racing. "We need to talk."

She turns toward you slowly, and her eyes seem colder than you've ever seen them. "I know," she replies, her voice deep and cutting. "I've been waiting for you."

You approach, but Sevika's gaze feels so distant, so detached from you. Something is wrong, and you know it. You can't stop the doubts from forming in your mind.

"Why have you been pulling away from me?" you ask, the knot in your throat growing tighter. "What's happening between us?"

Sevika crosses her arms, her posture more defiant than ever. "Don't you know? I told you, remember? I'm no good for you. I'm not what you need."

You furrow your brow, confused. "What are you talking about? I've never asked you to be anything else. I accept you as you are. I love you, Sevika."

She takes a step back, distancing herself from you, as if your closeness burns her. "That's what you don't understand. You think this is love, but what you're seeing isn't it. What you see in me is just an illusion. I'm just using you to get what I need: a little comfort, a distraction from the damn chaos of this city. But I don't want you to keep deceiving yourself. I'm not someone you can save, and I don't want you wasting your time with me."

Your words catch in your throat. "No... don't say that. I'm not deceiving myself, Sevika. I want to be by your side, through thick and thin. Why are you saying all of this?"

Sevika laughs, but it's not a laugh that gives you peace. It's cold, bitter, as if she's laughing at a cruel joke. "Because you're weak. And I don't want to drag you into this shitty world anymore. I don't want you to be another victim of what I am. And the worst part is, you don't even get it. You're a dreamer, an idealist, but there's no room for that here. There's no room for love in Zaun, there's only pain. And you won't be able to handle it."

"I don't want to leave you. I can't leave you," you respond, moving closer, but Sevika takes another step back, her face hardened by an internal battle. "I can't live with the thought of you pushing me away."

"Well, that's what's going to happen," she says, her voice so cold it echoes through the emptiness of the factory. "I'm leaving you because I can never be what you expect. I'll drag you into the darkness, I'll sink you even deeper than you already are. And that, that would ruin you. I have nothing left to offer you."

You're frozen, the pain piercing through your chest. "No... don't do this, Sevika. Please. Don't leave me alone."

"I left you the moment I accepted this damn world," Sevika says, and you can see a single tear silently roll down her face. "The only thing I offer you is more suffering, and that's the last thing I want for you. Forget me. And go, before I end up destroying you."

"No! I won't leave you!" you shout, but the desperation in your voice is futile. Sevika looks at you, but there's no warmth in her eyes anymore, only emptiness. "You're going to be happy without me. I'm not the person you need."

Before you can say anything else, Sevika turns around, walking toward the exit of the factory, leaving you alone in that dark, cold corner. The last image of her, her figure fading into the darkness, breaks you completely. You know that what she just told you isn't a lie, and that maybe, just maybe, she was right.

But what destroys you more is that you love her so much, and you can't bear the thought of losing her forever.

657 notes · View notes

monzabee · 7 months ago

Text

viva las vegas - mv1 (+18)

masterlist ||

Summary: The one where you and Max celebrate his win in a way you’ve never done before.

Pairing: max verstappen x reader

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: mentions of alcohol, having sex tipsy but there is consent?, manhandling, unprotected sex (are you even surprised at this point), oral (fem receiving), sex (duh), cursing, cockwarming (oops), minors dni!!

Request: “Hey babe! I’m obsessed with your last Charles piece, I’ve been wanting to read something like that for such a long time and you did it perfectly 😍🥹 I was wondering if I could request kind of the same concept with Max Verstappen? Like he always is pictured as a tough guy and stuff, but when you see him in videos he’s kind of a goof, so I imagine the first time he’s intimate with his gf they’d both laugh and have the sweetest time together”

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! is this my best work? no but it is something i managed to get done for the first time in like a month so here it is!! finishing this fic was a journey within itself, but i can honestly say that it was also kind fun? also, i saw a picture of max in his suit from vegas and that just inspired this whole thing, so i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms.

Max is buzzing with life, quite literally, you can feel him practically buzzing the whole time he’s trying to take you back to your hotel room as fast as possible. It’s most likely due to the amount of alcohol the two of you have consumed after the race. Honestly it is pure luck that you found your way back to your room, given your current state, but instead of joining you when you jump on the bed, revelling in its comfort, he chooses to stand at the end of the bed as he watches you with an entertained smile on his face.

“What?” you ask, a laugh washing through you as you raise yourself on your elbows, “Why are you looking at me like that?”

He lets his eyes wander over your figure, his smile becoming more boyish as he lets it widen on his face, “You look pretty,” he murmurs, bending down so he can lower himself over your body better, “have I told you how beautiful you looked tonight?”

“Um, yeah, Maxie,” you giggle as you point out, “you’ve been telling me that the entire night.” Using your hands as support while raising yourself more so that you could be face to face with him, “I think you look pretty too, you know?”

“Yeah?” Max murmurs, cradling your jaw in one of his hands, his thumb quick to caress the apple of your cheek, which causes you to lean into his touch. “What if I wanted to kiss you, would that be okay?”

The smile you offer him in return is sweet, the way your eyes seem to shine at the offer of feeling his lips against yours makes his heart beat faster in his chest. “Yes, please.” Your voice is softer, almost comes out as a whisper due to you suddenly feeling out of breath.

And who is he to deprive his girl?

He doesn’t waste any time pressing his lips against your awaiting ones, in fact, the movement of his lips are rushed, if not almost desperate. It's as if he can't get enough, as if he's afraid this moment might slip away like sand through his fingers. The taste of alcohol lingers on both your lips, and normally you would be weirded out about it, but you realise it only adds to the intensity of the kiss you’re sharing with Max. His fingers gently tangle in your hair as he deepens the kiss, and you find yourself responding eagerly. You let him take control, mostly because it’s so easy for you to lose yourself in his kiss. He’s lost in it too, if you had to guess, because the way his tongue is fighting over yours for dominance is so different compared to the way Max usually kisses you. You whine at the loss of his lips when he reluctantly pulls away, and if he wasn’t already hard, the sound makes Max’s cock instantly harder. His head is thrown back, eyes closed as he lets out a groan, and he has to stop himself from pulling you in for another kiss. But you clearly have other plans as you drag your lips down towards his jawline, leaving kisses in a random pattern until you reach that one specific point on his neck that absolutely drives him crazy.

And you know it’s only a matter of time until he stops you, again, as he has done for the past whatever months of your relationship. It’s not that you are not attracted to each other, because the attraction is as clear as day, and you have done stuff – not sex, but stuff. You’re not sure Max does that, but you also don’t want to be the one who pressures him into having sex with you if he doesn’t want to. Unbeknownst to you, the same goes for Max, who thinks you’re not ready to have sex with him and wants your first time together to be as special as possible.

So no, you’re not surprised as he gently peals himself from you, causing you to whine again at the loss of him, but instead he gives you a small kiss on the forehead as he mumbles, “Why don’t you take a shower? We’ll go to bed after that.”

“Is that your way of telling me I smell?” You ask in a playful tone, and he responds to you with a roll of his eyes. “What if I don’t want to go to sleep?”

“No?” He asks, actively searching your expression for any sign of discomfort or reluctance. “We’ve had a long day, are you sure you don’t want to get some sleep?” The look you give him in return for his question is enough, and he knows this, but he also wants to actually hear the words, so he points, “Use your words, liefje.”

A puff of breath leaves your lips in annoyance, but, nonetheless, you give him the best puppy dog eyes you can muster as you whine, “Please Maxie, you know what I want.”

“Do I?” He muses, pulling you onto his lap as he ghosts his lips across your jaw. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Maxie,” you drag out his name, whining as your attempt at rolling your hips against his thighs don’t work. “You are being mean.”

“Oh, baby,” he mockingly copies your pout, “I’m sorry. Can I apologise with a kiss?” To make his point, he presses a couple of soft kisses along your jawline.

“Will you kiss me the way I like?” You ask, slightly out of breath, but his agreement that comes in the form of a hum makes you smile mischievously. His lips trail more kisses towards the neckline of your dress, and eventually through the valley between your breasts that is exposed by the lack of fabric. And you have every intention to let him have his way with you, you really do – after all, he won another great race. But a part of you also knows that making him suffer, even if just a little bit, in the process is so much more fun. So, just as he’s about to free of your breasts from the bustier of your dress, you quickly move away, slipping from his hands, trying your hardest not to laugh at the bewildered expression on his face. “On second thought, I think I’m going to take that shower after all.”

“I—what?” Max mumbles, his slightly swollen lips pulled in a pout, and you can’t help but give him a small kiss.

“I’ll see you after my shower, Max Emilian.” Sauntering over to the bathroom, you make sure to add an extra sway to your hips – and the sigh that Max leaves cause the smirk on your face to grow.

It’s pure torture for Max to wait until you come out of the shower. Not that he doesn’t think about just joining you, especially after the show you just put on, but that would be giving into what you want – and though Max is a generous lover, he is also stubborn. He is more than happy to give you what you want, as long as it is on his terms. And so, he waits patiently, until you come out of the bathroom, a robe draped over your body, and he can’t help himself but let his eyes roam over your body.

“How was your shower?” Max asks, trying to keep his voice as nonchalant as possible, a wolfish grin curving up on his lips. He rests his hands behind his head, relaxing onto the pillows behind him. He watches you give him a shrug, the soft-looking material sliding of your shoulder slightly as you collect your hair onto your shoulder. “Are you giving me the silent treatment, pretty girl?”

There’s a coy smile on your face as you shake your head, once, twice, as your teeth press down on your bottom lip. Max wants nothing more than to release your lip, pull you into his lap and have his way with you, but no. No, because Max is nothing if not disciplined. “Come here,” he asks, straightening up in his place. You, being the ever-loving girlfriend you are, oblige his request. “That is a nice robe,” he murmurs, tilting his head as he grabs the towelette belt with the tips of his finger, “is it as soft as it looks?”

“Mhm-hm,” you nod, “do you want to feel it?”

“Do I want to feel it?” Max muses, “Sure.” His arms wrap around your middle so quickly that you don’t realise he’s pulling you into his lap at first. But he positions you with your legs on the either side of his. “You’re right, liefje, it is very soft.” His hands roam on your body over the soft material, but soon enough, his hands dipping underneath it to feel your skin. His eyebrows shoot upwards, a mischievous grin spreading on his lips, “No underwear?”

“Well, I just came out of the shower, Maxie.” You give him an innocent look, shrugging once against as you rest your hands against his shirt-clad chest. “The shower pressure was great, you should’ve joined me.”

He lets out a noncommittal hum, his hands roaming on your bare skin, revelling in the softness. “I’ll have to take your word for it.” He’s methodical as he slightly shifts you in his lap, tearing a gasp from the back of your throat. That gets a satisfied smile from him, “Something wrong?”

“N-no,” you mumble, shifting again to get the same feeling, but his hands still you in your place. “Maxie,” you whine, silently pleading with your eyes.

“Am I being mean again?” He asks, attentive eyes fixed on you, “I would offer to make it up to you with a kiss, but you seem to find ways to evade me when I do.”

“No,” you whine again, lips pouted in disagreement. “I promise I won’t this time.”

His eyebrows shoot up again with amusement, “Oh, yeah? Shall we test that theory, pretty girl?” The smile you give him is shy, but the way you nod is nothing short of coy. With a satisfied sound leaving his lips, he quickly presses his lips against yours. You sigh into the kiss, immediately, when you feel him deepening the kiss, more than happy to surrender yourself to him and let Max take the lead. Though, that doesn’t necessarily stop you from attempting to relieve the pressure between your legs by rolling your hips against his thighs. Your efforts, however, prove to be useless as he stops the movement before you can actually relieve any of it. He slowly pulls away, pushes a stray piece of wet hair behind your ear and tuts – condescendingly, you might add – “Slow down, liefje, I think I’ve had enough speed for one day.”

Groaning at his words, “But Maxie,” you whine, dragging out his name as you let your hands wander on his chest over his shirt and receive a warning look from him in return, “I promise I’ll be good, please just fuck me.”

“Baby,” he coos, his fingers working quickly to unfasten the belt of your robe and push the offending clothing off your shoulders, “I literally just told you to be patient, no?”

You ignore the raised eyebrow, the look of faux-disappointment, and even the way his fingers grab your waist because you’re too busy trying to get him out of his shirt, suddenly feeling too exposed as you sit on his lap naked. “Please,” you whisper against his skin, peppering kisses across the column of his throat as your hands make their way inside his shirt, “I’ll be patient next time.”

“I’m suddenly realising that I spoil you very much,” Max mumbles, pulling his head back to get a look at you.

Pulling back as well you give him a mischievous grin, “Maybe, but you’ll give me what I want this time as well.”

“Yeah?” He asks, “Why?”

“Because I think I’m getting your pants very messy right now.”

Max can’t help the groan that escapes past his lips, his eyes quickly following yours as he takes in the ‘damage’ your wetness has caused on his jeans. He takes a moment to assess the damage, drags his eyes up to look at you when he notices the way your eyes stay fixed down, as your nervously bite down on your lower lip. He loses all the composure he managed to muster up, and he finally gives in, quickly pushing you off him onto the pillows on the bed. The squeal that leaves you is followed by a string of giggles that leave your lips, and when Max looks at you, he takes in the darker look in your widened eyes.

“I was going to be patient; I can’t believe you’re making me not be patient.” He mumbles, taking off his shirt and the rest of his clothes before starting to leave kisses on your feverish skin as he slides down your body and places himself between your thighs.

You open your legs wider to accommodate his body, a breathy laugh escaping past your lips. “You mean, impatient?”

That earns you a nip on your upper thigh and a warning look, but instead of commenting on your quip, he lowers his face, keeps his eyes locked to yours and gets to work. And it’s not that you and Max haven’t done stuff – because it’s the opposite; although you haven’t had sex, it’s safe to say that the two you have explored every option bordering on sex. But how he’s acting right now is much different than the way how he is usually with you. His movements are almost rushed, and the way he drags his tongue through your folds is just enough for your eyes to roll back as your moans fill the room.

Normally, he would be extra careful and make sure he is being gentle with you; but right now, he’s just trying to savour you before he loses all his composure. A choppy gasp leaves you as you feel his fingers enter you – two at first, and the way he pumps them in and out of you makes breathing harder. The speed of his fingers matches his tongue, and for a moment, you think you’re going to pass out. With his free hand, he blocks any type of movement you try with your hips; his palm sneakily presses down on your lower stomach to keep you in your place, but it’s jokes on him because if anything, it just makes you feel even better, and you’re not shy to let him know just how much he’s making you feel good with your moans.

“Max,” you say his name in a breathy whimper, fingers threading through his hair to guide him, “fuck, I’m so close.” You can practically feel the way his lips curl up, and suddenly, everything about his actions gets faster. His fingers are pistoning in and out of you in an unforgiving pace, in sync with his tongue that works your clit just the same. So, it’s no surprise when you find yourself coming on his tongue as his name leaves your lips for the umpteenth time like a prayer.

The smirk he gives you when he pulls himself from between your legs is sinful – he looks absolutely debauched with the way his lips glisten with your release, and he wastes no time before coming up, and capturing your lips in yet another bruising kiss. But this time, you taste yourself on his tongue and this time it makes you lose the whatever little resolve you’ve had left. So, you hook your leg around his thigh to push him next to you on the bed as you practically throw him next to you on the bed.

Though he has other plans. Of course.

So, as you’re trying to fight the seventy-kilogram-something driver into staying under you on the bed, he has no problem manhandling you into rolling on your side. And as you’re pressed flush against his chest, you turn your head backwards to breathlessly whisper, “You promised, Max.”

“And I am a man of my word, aren’t I?” He retorts, his hand that is splayed on your thigh positions it so that it’s bent towards your stomach, “Just needed to get you ready.” You can’t help the guttural moan that escapes you when you feel him pressing the tip of his cock into your entrance. The pleading look you give him must’ve worked, because this time it’s his turn to let out a guttural moan as he pushes himself into you. There is no sign of his mood from mere moments ago as you feel his hands caress your bare hip, an entitled smirk on his lips as he asks, “Out of breath?”

“Fuck you,” your response comes out as a breathy laugh as you’re pushing your hips closer to his to take him deeper.

“Lifje, you are fucking me.” Max giggles into the crook of your neck as he pushes himself in fully. You would be furious with him if it didn’t make you laugh also, and although the laughing decrease, the smiles remain on both your faces as he starts slowly moving his hips.

It’s sweet, unbelievably sweet, considering the sexual tension that was in the room an hour ago, but the way Max is fucking you can only be described as sweet. His hands caress every part of your body that he can reach – your thighs, to your hips, to your stomach, to your chest and then wraps one of his hands around your throat; not in a way that is rough, but in a way that he can still keep you still as he captures your lips for another kiss. The movement of his hips is languid, almost lazy as drive into you, but he still manages to hit all the spots along the way. Breathy chuckles are exchanged when he pulls away for you to organise your breathing, but your smiles still stay on, even when he raises your bent leg and rests his on his own leg. The new angle makes your moans get louder, your hips to move against his faster, and you can feel your orgasm approach speedily.

But Max is so in tune with your body that he knows what’s coming (or rather who) before you get a chance to actually have to say anything. His hand slides down your body so that he can press his fingers to your clit and move them in tight circles, and as if it was possible, his you can suddenly feel him fucking you even deeper. “You are going to come for me pretty girl, I can feel it.” He murmurs into your skin, and all you can offer as an answer is a nod and an affirmative whimper as you squeeze your eyes shut. “Come on, give it to me, come on my cock.” And though he is not the most verbal person to ever exist, except for when he’s in the mood to be an absolute yapper, his words urge you to let go of the feeling that has been starting to brew in your stomach.

Your hips start moving to meet his in choppy movements as you seek any and all kinds of pleasure to reach your high, and he meets your every move with increasing intensity of his own. “Max, yes!” Your exclamation hits his ears as he hits that one particular spot, making you instantly become lax in his arms as he guides you through your orgasm. His name spills out from your lips in constant repetition, “So good, so good,” you keep mumbling in breathless whimpers, trying to press yourself further into his body.

With all things considered, it doesn’t take Max long to reach his own high following your own, since you insistently move your hips in a way that makes you take his cock even deeper when he’s helping you ride your orgasm. So, when you hear him groaning your name in the crook of your neck and feel him spilling himself into you. “Fuck, you feel so good,” he croaks out, holding your hips in place with his hands splayed on your feverish skin. “Why didn’t we do this sooner?”

“How am I supposed to know, dummy?” You ask, throwing your head back to get a good look of his dishevelled state, “Why do you look so good after mind blowing sex?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugs, pulling you with him as he lets himself fall back on the bed, “genetics?”

“Mhm,” you murmur, trying to find a comfortable position on his chest as he is still inside you, “remind me to send your mother a flower arrangement when we get back, or something.”

A deep blush covers his cheeks, as if he hasn’t been fucking you for the past hour or so, as he stammers, “I– I mean, yeah.” This time, it’s your turn to give a non-committal hum, followed by a satisfied sigh as you snuggle him closer and close your eyes. “Just go to sleep, baby, we can deal with it in the morning.”

“’Mkay,” you mumble, feeling his hand draw soothing circles on your back. “But you’re still gonna fuck me tomorrow, right?”

This gets another loud laugh from the driver laying down under you, and both of you know that he’s going to do just that when you wake up in the morning.

#monzabee #requests open #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 smut #formula 1 #fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen imagine #imagine #fluff #angst #smut #max verstappen fluff #mas verstappen smut

1K notes · View notes

violetsiren90 · 2 months ago

Text

Pairing: Bang Chan x gn!Reader

Genre: drabble; cozy; established relationship; sensual fluff; slice of life/bedroom domesticity

Word Count: ~500

Content Warnings: 18+ (minors, DNI); kissing/cuddling in bed; bedtime states of undress; brief necking; intimate touching in the context of comfort; words unspoken

Author's Note: That Bubble photo has been taking up prime real estate in my mind all day, so here's a few simple and unpolished words of worship for this beautiful man. ❤️

If no one has told you yet today, you're loved and worthy of love. 🧜‍♀️ 💜

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

“What?” he asks softly, his hand sliding up over your thigh where you kneel beside him.

Gazing down at him as he lays back against your pillows, you’re not exactly sure what to say.

The lamp offers only a little warm light, and the beauty of his features and the defined contours of his arms and shoulders are dappled by the hazy glow and the soft brush of shadows. He looks strong and broad where he’s hugged and where he’s left bare by his black tank, which stretches across his chest and bunches up around his waist, teasing a few toned inches of his manly abdomen. His eyes are tired, and still smokey with makeup, but they’re so soft, so tender, and they hold your face with quiet, contented regard.

You press a palm gently over his sternum, and your lips tug into a little grin as you shake your head, still gazing down at the unpretentious perfection of him.

He smiles in return, slipping his free hand over yours where it lays against his chest. You can feel his heartbeat. Steady. Strong.

“C’mere,” he whispers, tilting his chin up, and your heart thrums like a little bird as if you haven’t kissed him a hundred times before.

You slide your legs out beside his and lean over him, dropping your mouth obligingly to taste his lips. His hands slide over your waist. A thrill flutters in your belly. You’ll never grow used to this feeling, you think.

The rain patters against the windowpane behind the curtain as you lose yourself to his lips – soft and full, plush and sensual and assured as they press and part and nip, the hushed sounds and sighing breaths passing them arresting and submerging all your senses in him so completely.

His nose brushes your face, nudging it once, twice, again – the tip of it smooth and cool against your flushed cheek.

His right hand slides over your lower back and pushes up the fabric of your baggy tee to slip past the band of your panties, seeking the soft warmth of the fullness of your ass as he does so often, seemingly by reflex when he’s under your body – tucking his hand skin-to-skin and kneading gently, absently.

Scent, taste, touch…even with your eyes closed he’s familiarity itself, and yet…

How does he cloak you in serenity even as he makes your heart race? How does he quiet your mind as he sets you afire?

He pulls away from your lips to brush his mouth under your ear, and when you whimper, he chuckles against your skin.

Pushing up, you catch the sparkling warmth of his eyes. The heater kicks on and hums. Both of his hands slip to your waist again as you blink down.

“I need to wash up,” he murmurs.

You kiss his beautiful nose.

“Okay,” you sigh, shifting to nestle into his side.

But he doesn’t move as your arm stretches over him.

He touches it with soft tracing fingertips in the lamplight.

And the rain patters on the windowpane.

-Fin-

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vidalsbeloved · 2 months ago

Text

HER TROPHY pt. 2

Rio Vidal x Female Reader!

Warnings: smut (literally), light degradation, orgasm denial, overstimulation (kinda).

Words written: 1.2k

Note: Idk why but I had a really hard time writing this part so I apologize for it being so short and boring and maybe confusing? I have no idea. I had to go back so many times and try and get inspired from part 1 lol. Anyway, enjoy!

It is late in the night when she returns to you— you stir in your sleep, feeling the buzz of her magic surrounding you, the fire igniting in your veins that sends jolts of wanton need through your being. But you don’t see her when you wake, disappointment flares in your stomach when the realization hits you that it’s another jest that Rio had settled up at some point and time since she’d last left. Making you think she was back when in reality, it was her way of torturing you since she couldn’t be there physically.

So this night to you felt no different, how naive of you not to realize that your back was to her. You feel the bed dip behind you and her breath ghosting your neck— you gasp, leaning back into her body as she places a kiss at your pulse. A hand came up to rest on your neck, tilting your head back to rest on her shoulder as the other drifted lower and over your stomach.

She reaches for the hem of your silky white nightgown and traces her sharp acrylic nails across the skin of your thighs, you buckle against her and whimper, feeling a heat building between your legs.

She nips your ear with her teeth and laughs against you, “Needy little thing, aren’t you, trophy?”

You nod against her, sighing when her touch inches your gown higher up your thighs, achingly close to your barely exposed center. You grip the sheets below you when her fingers make contact, tracing the outline of your underwear.

“Rio,” you gasp. “Please..”

She cups your aching center and scoffs, “How pathetic, baby girl. I’ve barely even touched you and you’re already drenched..”

The hand on your neck drops, and suddenly, with a flick of her hand your undergarments are pulled from your body and her hand is burying itself in your folds. One of your hands reaches to grab the back of her neck and she lets you— pressing your lips to hers in a desperate needy kiss. Her teeth nip at your lower lip, drawing whimpers from you.

Her free hand grips your hips, stilling your movements and you mewl into her mouth— she pulls back just enough to look into your eyes and when she does, they are dark and filled with lust. You swallow and pull at her again, drawing her back in. She doesn’t let you, her grip on your hips tightening.

You look up at her, your eyes pleading, desperation taking over as the heat inside you builds— your shallow pants fill the air surrounding the two of you and all you want is the feel of her body against yours. The look in her eyes as she stares at you is nothing but predatory, as if at any second she would devour you all in one go. You watch as her eyes drift over your form and watch the way you desperately try to jerk your hips to meet the thrust of her fingers.

She bites her lips as her gaze travels back up to your big doe eyes and with a low growl she’s pulling her fingers out of you, tearing apart your nightgown and pushing you down onto the bed. She’s feral in her moves, but you know you’ve got her.

Her hands grope you as she dives down to nip and suck at your neck and chest, leaving her mark on your skin. A reminder of who is in charge. Of who you belong to. And what you are to her. A trophy.

You belonged to her, you always would. And though part of you despised yourself for being so willing to walk into her with open arms— you couldn’t resist. The pull you felt in your stomach denied your resistance, your want to stay away. Because you were bound to her, her mark upon your skin by her knife, her power tethering you to her very being. She owned you and though you hated it you couldn’t help but also love it.

She kisses her way down your stomach and over your hips, nipping at your skin and sucking marks. Her hands tweaking your nipples as she made for your thighs, pulling them apart and over her shoulders. She sucks at your inner kneecaps, then bites, listening to your gasps of pain as she travels higher and higher until she’s where you want her most.

Her breath on your aching cunt is already enough to have you mewling and arching your back— she chuckles darkly against you, teasing you as she leans in to lick up your slit, purposely, slowing down to tease you as she grazes your clit.

“Rio,” you mewl.

She hums, then does it all over again, deliberately, slowing to edge you, knowing it was driving you crazy. You reach out to fist your hand in her hair, but she grips your wrists and pins them down at your sides, digging her nails into your skin in warning.

She pulls back, looking at you through dark luscious lashes, “Such a needy girl, aren’t you? Can’t even keep your hands to yourself.”

“Rio—“

“Hush,” she whispers. “Be a good girl for me, can you do that? Or are you too needy?”

You nod and she smiles sadistically, cooing, “I knew you would be.”

She delves back into your cunt, sucking your clit into her mouth and holding your hips as they jump to meet her tongue. She chuckles against you, eyes straying on your form as she devours you.

A single tear stream down your face, the pressure of her presence, her power, and her pleasure crashing over you in waves, becoming too much. And you love it.

Her tongue flicks over your clit, then sucks harshly. You whimper, calling out Rio’s name as she nears you to the edge— only to pull back when she feels you pulsating on her tongue. Your gargled moans fill the air as you search out her presence, the feel of her on you.

She climbs up your body, taking your wrist in her hands and pinning them above your head in a suffice grip. Her breath fans your skin and your eyes meet, her eyes are dark and filled with an intensity that sends shockwaves of pleasure down to your core— forcing your hips to jump, and her grip tightens.

“You are mine,” she growls the words out, possessively, the hand on your hip coming up to wipe away your tears.

You nod once as she rubs your cheek, eyes softened.

“Yours,” you murmur.

Her eyes search yours— finding that familiarity, the truth of your words. “So beautiful,”

And then she’s kissing you again growling, all her softness gone just as quickly as it was there. “Mine.”

And she brings you to the edge, once, twice, three times more— taking you over and over again until she knows you won’t be able to walk the next morning. Her marks on your skin were a reminder that you were hers and hers alone. That if anyone ever laid a hand on you, she’d know.

For you see, being Deaths Trophy, was a gift. A gift to cherish for centuries, because just as you were special in her eyes, she was special in yours. You loved her. Whether that be against your will or not, you were.

You lay there, naked in Death’s arms, her enveloping you in such a way nobody in the world would. Her grip taut as she presses kisses to your head and whispers sweet nothings into your ear. Lulling you, until you are fast asleep.

She untangles herself from you, kissing your head once, whispering. “I’ll be back, my trophy.”

And then she’s gone, but her kiss lingers.

#agatha all along #rio vidal #rio vidal x reader

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thedevilspearl · 1 year ago

Text

prone to bone — all brothers

author’s note ʚɞ i’ve been seeing prone bone floating around recently and also can’t get the brothers out of my head so here is my take on how the brothers feel about the position. spoiler alert: they fucking love it.

tags ʚɞ female reader x lucifer, mammon (filming during the act), leviathan, satan (power play), asmodeus (crying), beelzebub (size kink) + belphegor. explicit smut, minors do not interact!

𝐋𝐔𝐂𝐈𝐅𝐄𝐑 feels an immense surge of control when he towers over you, his thighs on either side of you resting just enough weight on you to trap you underneath him, but not enough to hurt you. he doesn’t need to trap you; he knows you’d never try to move away from him when his cock is filling you up so well. but there’s something about you not having the choice to that adds to his total control over you. his hands rub up and down your back, taking a moment to grope your ass while he slowly drives his cock in and out of your pussy, grinding his cock to the hilt and ascending to a higher realm when he hears your lustful cries muffled by pillows. “my sweet darling,” he pulls away the pillows with a deep rut, causing you to yelp. “don’t hide your voice. i want to hear how dirty you are.”

𝐌𝐀𝐌𝐌𝐎𝐍 one hundred per cent records you in this position every single time. it’s the same position but each occasion that calls for it is a whole new experience. he just loves when the base of his cock presses against your perky ass. he loves the way your ass cheeks jiggle when he speeds up his pace, when they mould into his hands while he grabs them roughly. but most of all, he loves the strangled cries sounding from the body beneath him. oh, he knows he’s fucking you good; so deep and intimate is the way his cock buries itself in your pussy, dragging against all the right places. he can go round after round in this position, filming it on his ddd so he can watch it on repeat when you’re not around. “fucking hell,” he grunts, chuckling while holding handfuls of your ass. “ya look so pretty for me, don’t think i’m stopping any time soon.”

𝐋𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍 loves the prone bone. it’s one of the positions where his confidence and self–esteem rockets sky high. he usually gets a bit shy being on top but he appreciates having your face hidden in the cushions while he does all the work, blushing the entire time; and it’s a relatively easy position, not too strenuous for him and his debatably poor stamina. but god, he just loves when you wear his shirt in this position, completely naked underneath but every thrust has him losing himself in the sight of your body as his shirt inches its way up your back. and along with his fingers interlacing with yours as they push down into the mattress and your ass bouncing up into him as he fucks you deep, it’s enough to make him finish in seconds. “i’m cumming!” levi cries, body collapsing on yours but he doesn’t stop fucking you with his twitching cock. “holy shit, it feels so good.”

𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐀𝐍 leans over you with his hands latched on each of your wrists, burying them in the bed sheets and with his thighs holding your lower body in place, there’s no way you can move. you desperately want to writhe and twitch in pleasure but he holds you perfectly still. your body shakes in the ripples of pleasure shooting through your body, a bliss only satan can bring to you as every grind of his hips is precise and perfect hitting your sweet spots again and again. it’s almost torture when he treats you like a toy, putting you in the perfect position for his greedy cock to fuck. you lay flat but your ass tilts upwards just the slightest bit, giving him the perfect angle to drive you both to insanity. “fuck! shit!” satan growls, so close to cumming but you defiantly fidgeted and disrupted his rhythm. “stay fucking still if you want to cum.”

𝐀𝐒𝐌𝐎𝐃𝐄𝐔𝐒 has a particular taking to this position because it’s so easy to fuck you into oblivion and back without draining too much stamina from either of you. but that doesn’t mean you won’t end up with tears dripping down your face and drool spilling from your lips. it’s the way you scream his name extra loud as he ploughs into you from behind. his hands grip your ass tight while your head hangs off the bed, bouncing with each thrust. asmo loves fucking you in the collapsed doggy style, and as you squeeze the bed sheets for dear life while your body lays flat and twitching, asmo continues fucking you from behind and he can’t find it in him to stop. the position turns him into an insatiable devil “aww sweetie, i know you’re tired,” he whispers gently in your ears as your body wracks with sobs. “but you can take a little more, can’t you?”

𝐁𝐄𝐄𝐋𝐙𝐄𝐁𝐔𝐁 loves putting his big body to the test, especially when he’s fucking you dumb on his huge cock. every position is a reminder of how huge he is compared to you, so it would be blasphemy to talk about beelzebub and the prone bone without mentioning his raging size kink. his fat balls rub against the back of your thighs while his thick cock stretches you open. it lays heavy in your pussy as he slowly grinds it back and forth, grunting each and every time. the way your pussy engulfs a beast like him, coating his cock in your arousal, it’s a marvel to him. his breath is hot and heavy, a signal that he’s extremely turned on. whether he’s towering above you or leaning over your shaking frame, he feels so fucking huge and that’s enough for him to want to fuck you in the position forever. “fuck, mc....you’re so tight, ‘s driving me crazy.”

𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐏𝐇𝐄𝐆𝐎𝐑 is a lazy git who prefers positions where you do most of the work. however, prone boning you is a compromise. he’ll put in the work while you melt into the bedsheets, but it’s also a relatively low effort position that doesn’t tire him out, and that means he can last longer. and he loves lasting long in this position because the view of your ass between his thighs and the expanse of your back on display for him is addictive. for once, he loves that you’re the one squirming underneath him, crying out his name only to be muffled by the blanket tugged between your teeth because his cock is fucking you so deeply. “fuck baby,” he grunts rutting his hips quicker and harder as the minutes pass. belphie loses his mind when you quivers around his cock. “gonna make me cum so hard.”

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ddarker-dreams · 5 months ago

Text

Understatement.

Wanderer x Reader.

Warnings: None. Word count: 1.2k.

Your bag carries plenty of essentials.

Stationery, lip balm, keys to your apartment; stuff of that nature. Then there’s your personal favorite, a wallet embroidered with dandelions — your hometown’s flower — into the fabric. It’d been sent to you without a return address on your birthday, shrouding the gifter in mystery. All of these items accompany you on a day-to-day basis.

That aside, this list has another unifying factor. Each object is inert. Completely still. Incapable of moving without an outside force. Now, this isn’t a revelation that’ll shift society and be recorded in history books for generations to come. It’s common sense. A concept children grasp before they even know what ‘gravity’ is.

As for why you’re taking a lengthy mental inventory of your belongings…

Well.

Something in there is moving. Rustling about, the vague outline of its body pressing against the aged leather.

Your response is slow. Cautious. You begin by pushing yourself away from your desk, creating distance between you and this potential threat. The Vision fastened along your waistband thrums, ready to act. Numerous theories whir around your mind like a sandstorm. Is this a prank in poor taste? Cyno had mentioned an investigation into scarabs being placed in student’s bags, although nothing serious had come from it. Maybe it’s a gadget or some elemental reaction—

—Your cognition grinds to a halt when a head pokes out, undoing the bag’s clasp in the process.

…

“Oh!” The creature exclaims while freeing itself. “Um… hi!”

The room’s natural lighting gives you a better idea of the creature’s appearance. Its wings keep it suspended midair, each enthusiastic flap scattering your notes. Large, doe-like eyes consider you, gleaming with childlike curiosity. If not for the prominent horns atop its head, you might think it’s a bat, but that classification doesn’t quite fit.

Whatever it is, you sense no hostility.

“Hello,” is your hesitant reply.

It looks around, fixating on the items displaced from your desk.

“Ack, I’m sorry,” it apologizes. It lands carefully on your desk and lowers its head, as if ashamed. “I didn’t mean to make such a mess… I’ve just been excited to meet you.”

“Don’t worry, this is nothing. I’ve been meaning to reorganize my stuff, anyway.”

For some reason, you can’t find it within you to fault this seemingly well-meaning yet clumsy guest. Its naivete is reminiscent of a certain explosion-obsessed girl from back home. In truth, this entire ordeal doesn’t even breach the top five strangest experiences you’ve had in recent times.

… Alright, perhaps it’s a contender for the fourth slot.

Suddenly, your guest straightens up. “Wait! I haven’t introduced myself yet. We can’t be friends if I haven’t introduced myself… you can call me Mini Durin. And I already know your name. You’re [First].”

“Yeah, that’d be me,” you cover a budding smile with your hand, not wanting your giddy guest to mistake it for mockery. “So, Mini Durin… you said you’ve been wanting to meet me? Why’s that?”

Mini Durin ambles his way toward the edge of your desk.

“You’re important to my first friend,” he declares. “At least I think so. He only has the nicest things to say about you, like how you’re not ‘as insufferable as most,’ and that ‘your presence is tolerable.’”

That’s what Mini Durin considers ‘the nicest things’ to say about someone…?!

The conviction with which he speaks affirms his sincerity.

“It sounds like you trust this friend a great deal.”

Mini Durin nods. “I do. That’s how I ended up in your bag… I got separated from him earlier. Luckily, I spotted you. I knew you’d keep me safe. And now we even get to be friends!”

That explains why your bag felt heavier coming home than when you left.

“You got separated from him?” Frowning, you scoot your chair closer. “Where at? We can go looking for him, if you want. He must be worried.”

“Oh. I didn’t think about that.”

Mini Durin mulls over your offer for a few seconds, adding, “What if he’s mad at me? He was working hard on another gift for you, but I went and distracted him.”

“Friends can sort stuff like this out,” you reassure. Then, a pause. “Huh. Did you say ‘another gift?’”

Mini Durin tilts his head. “You didn’t know? The pretty flowers on your—”

A rapid knock on your door cuts him off.

You both turn your attention toward the booming sound. Huffing, you cross your arms over your chest. It’s late in the evening, who in their right mind would treat your front door like a drum? You shoot your unexpected guest an apologetic look, promising a swift return.

Some choice words sizzle on your tongue as you swing the door open, only to be met by an equally irate figure.

Your eccentric classmate, the Wanderer, stands before you. There’s a slight flush to his cheeks like he’s been physically exerting himself. The telltale sign of Anemo settles down around him, his hat reappearing in the process. He soon mirrors your exasperated posture, one hand on his hip, the other readjusting the brim of his hat.

“I could’ve flown to Inazuma and back in the time it took you to answer,” is the courteous greeting he goes for.

“Hello to you too,” you greet. “Was there something you needed? Or are you just making your debut as a percussionist known to the entire nation?”

He rolls his eyes. “Of course there’s something I ‘need’, genius.”

“And what would that be?”

“I’m looking for a small, talking dragon,” the Wanderer deadpans. “Ring any bells?”

You blink. “Are you referring to Mini Durin?”

“Just how many dragons are you acquainted with?”

“I mean, I am from Mondstadt,” you shrug. A realization then creeps up on you. “Hold on. Does that make you this ‘first friend’ I’ve heard so much about?”

The Wanderer freezes. You observe as he processes this information in real-time, along with the implications that come with it. Though his muscles are tense, he keeps his visage impassive. The occasional twitch of his eye is the only detail betraying his panic.

“... On second thought, you can keep him.”

He swivels on his heel to make a hasty retreat.

You lurch forward without thinking, your hand latching around his wrist. He snaps his head around to meet your gaze, almost knocking you over with his hat in the process. A well-timed dodge protects you from the potential headache. In the light of the setting sun, the Wanderer’s porcelain complexion is dyed in crimson hues. Though he’s maintaining eye contact, something tells you it’s a struggle.

“Hey,” you use your free hand to poke his flushed cheeks, to which he grimaces and bats at it like a cat. “Come inside. I’ll make up some of that awful, bitter tasting tea you like.”

He inhales through his teeth, likely weighing various excuses. You bat your eyelashes and offer your brightest smile. As the seconds pass by, you can feel his resolve weakening. With a scoff, he frees himself from your grasp, the ease in which he does so confirming he’d been your willing hostage.

The Wanderer wordlessly strolls past you and into your home.

Humming, you follow close behind him.

Just ‘tolerable’, huh?

#i wove him #scaramouche x reader #wanderer x reader #genshin impact x reader #scaramouche brainrot #my stuff

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a-ikuoliver · 10 months ago

Text

tw: sfw, childhood best friends, mutual pining, w/c: 0.6k notes: uh I was slapped in the face with this scene so here u go; I wuv domestic bakugou, idc how bad this is it was haunting me

the tips of bakugou's hair droop ever so slightly at the moisture in the air, the blond growing darker in the steam. he adjusts himself in the bathtub, getting as comfortable as he can in the empty porcelain tub in front of your shower, the discomfort of the hardness against him the last thing on his mind as he listened to you talk, unconcerned by discomfort, or the steam settling on him, the feeling of his clothes sticking in the humidity. you're animated, he can see even that through the steam, the way your hands wave about wildly, one at your face as you scrubbed it, the other gesturing passionately behind the glass.

you swipe the condensation from the frosted glass in front of your eyes, "you know?!"

you’re incredulous, your brows down in a scowl as you gossip about someone he probably doesn’t even know the name of. he hums his agreement, content listening to you rant and rave all about the most recent news in your life, and watching your blurred silhouette.

“okay, close your eyes, im gonna get my towel.” your voice is light, not a trace of apprehension, this habit like second nature to you now. bakugou obeys, grunting when you’re safe to climb out of the shower.

he can feel you near him, the heat and steam radiating off of your skin, the clean scent of your soap entering his nostrils, clouding his head more than the steam. you're close enough to brush your wet skin against his, the softness of your towel fluttering against his forearm when you wrap it around yourself.

“hey, are you home this weekend? the old lady keeps asking about you.” he doesn’t care he interrupts your story of the latest episode you watched. hearing your lips part and close, his ears prick, waiting for your gentle hum to reach his ears.

“depends, what are you going to make me for dinner?” you sit down at the edge of the bathtub, reaching to poke his face, one cherry red eye cracking open, then the other. he’s met with your smiling face, a strike of adoration hitting him in the heart at your pretty features, as damp as his from the steam, a droplet running down the side of your throat to the top of your towel tucked into itself at your chest.

“whatever you want me to make.” his voice is softer than he wants it to be, his adam’s apple nervously bobbing in his throat, his mouth dryer than it had ever been with you this close, he’s had you closer; pulled into tight hugs when you were 5, closer again at 9 when you wrestled with him in the mud, his heart starting to race at 15 when his parents made him shuffle ‘closer, katsuki, you guys are friends,’ when you graduated lower secondary school together. every moment since then turning out like this, his eyes darting back and forth between yours, the air shifting the longer you stared at each other, his chest about to touch yours when you respond, your breath fanning over his cheeks at your proximity, “yeah, i’ll be there.”

he deludes himself for a moment, thinking you sound as nervous as he does, thinking your pupils dilate ever-so-slightly the longer you stare at each other, thinking maybe your lips pucker when your gaze falls, when you lean a touch closer, years of tension about to break between you both.

"i'll get out of your way." you clear your throat and stand back up, water still dripping from your body, katsuki jumping back like he was electrocuted by your sudden movement, muttering an agreement, a foreign anxiety settling in his stomach even as he sheds his shirt; sparing one last glance before you latch the door, katsuki catches your wide eyes once more and wonders if they mirror the adoration in his.

#「kat <3」#「mercury writes」#katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader

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novaursa · 3 months ago

Note

Could I request a little tidbit of the velaryon bride where reader is having a bath and invites cregan to join but it’s too hot for him, but doesn’t want to disappoint her (and maybe because he doesn’t want to admit to himself he can’t take it) and joins her anyway. Maybe something cute and lovey and could potentially lead to a steamy bath session, but just before it gets steamy, cregan interrupts as the bath water is too hot due to readers Targaryen blood.

Valyrian Bride (dragon's bath)

- Summary: You invite Cregan to join you in a warm bath.

- Pairing: velaryon!reader/Cregan Stark

- Note: The reader is daughter of Rhaenyra.

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Previous part: dragon eggs

- Next part: nameday

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround @daeryna @melsunshine @21-princess @ferakillia

The chambers of Winterfell were filled with the heady scent of lavender and rose oil, mingling with the thick steam that wafted from the bathing tub in the center of the room. It was a large, deep tub, carved from dark stone and filled almost to the brim with water that verged on scalding. Cregan Stark paused just inside the doorway, his breath catching as the heat hit him like a wall. Even from across the room, he could see the steam rising in thick, swirling tendrils.

His wife lounged in the water, her head resting against the rim of the tub, her silver-gold hair damp and clinging to her shoulders. The heat had brought a faint flush to her cheeks, making her skin glow with a warmth that seemed to radiate from her very being. She looked every inch the dragon-blooded beauty she was, and Cregan, despite the intense heat, felt his pulse quicken.

She turned her head as he entered, a slow smile spreading across her lips. “There you are, my wolf,” she murmured, her voice a low, inviting purr. “Come to join me?”

Cregan cleared his throat, his eyes sweeping over her, taking in the languid grace with which she stretched out her arms, the way the water lapped gently against her skin. “I… wasn’t planning on it,” he admitted, though the sight of her made him seriously reconsider his plans for the evening.

She raised an eyebrow, amusement dancing in her violet eyes. “Not planning to? I’m hurt.” She lifted a hand, gesturing lazily to the empty space beside her. “There’s more than enough room for you. Unless, of course, you’re afraid of a little heat?”

He gave her a wry look, but there was no denying the challenge in her eyes. “You call this a little heat? It’s like the godsdamned forges of the blacksmith.”

Her laughter was soft, echoing through the steam-filled room. “Oh, come now. It’s not that bad. Besides, I think you can handle it. Or have all these years in the North made you forget how to endure a little fire?”

Cregan grumbled under his breath but began to strip off his heavy furs and clothes. “Fine, but if I come out boiled alive, I’ll be haunting you.”

“I’ll take my chances,” she said, her smile widening as she watched him disrobe. “Besides, a ghostly wolf might be a nice change of pace around here.”

As he moved closer to the tub, Cregan felt the heat intensify, the air itself seeming to shimmer with it. He hesitated for just a moment, then gritted his teeth and stepped into the water, lowering himself gingerly into the steaming bath. It was a testament to his stubbornness—and perhaps a touch of insanity—that he didn’t immediately leap back out.

“Seven hells,” he muttered through clenched teeth, his skin prickling as if he’d stepped into a cauldron. “Y/N, this is hotter than Vaetrix’s breath.”

His wife laughed again, the sound rich and full of affection. “It’s just right for me.” She moved closer, her wet skin glistening in the dim light, and slid her arms around his neck. “But I appreciate your bravery, my lord.”

Cregan tried to relax, though it was hard when he felt like a stew being slowly brought to a boil. Still, the feel of her body pressed against his, the way her fingers trailed along his shoulders, made the discomfort almost worth it. Almost.

She leaned in, brushing her lips against his jaw, her voice a soft murmur. “You’re tense. Let me help with that.”

He turned his head, catching her lips with his, and for a moment, the heat of the water was forgotten as he lost himself in the warmth of her kiss. Her mouth moved against his with a tenderness that made his chest ache, and he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer.

She shifted in his lap, her hands sliding down his chest, her touch light and teasing. “See?” she whispered, her breath hot against his ear. “Isn’t this better?”

He let out a low growl, nipping at her lower lip. “It would be, if I wasn’t slowly cooking.”

She laughed, the sound bubbling up like the water around them, and kissed him again, deeper this time. Her fingers tangled in his hair, tugging him closer, and he found himself responding, his hands roaming over her back, feeling the smooth curve of her spine.

The heat, the closeness, her soft sighs—it was all intoxicating, pulling him under in a way that had nothing to do with the steaming water. She shifted again, pressing herself more firmly against him, her breath hitching as her movements became more insistent.

But as the temperature of both the water and their shared passion rose, Cregan felt a very real and very unromantic panic begin to build. He could handle battle, blood, and the bitterest of northern winds, but this? This was too much.

He pulled back, his breath coming in short, ragged bursts. “Wait, wait—hold on,” he said, his voice strained. “I need to—”

She looked at him, her eyes dark with desire and a hint of confusion. “What is it?”

“I need to get out,” he managed, his tone halfway between an apology and desperation. “I’m going to pass out from the heat.”

For a moment, she stared at him, and then, to his utter dismay, she burst out laughing. The sound was pure, unrestrained, and filled with such genuine amusement that he couldn’t even pretend to be offended. She leaned back, her shoulders shaking with mirth as she looked at him.

“Oh, Cregan,” she said, her voice still thick with laughter. “You poor wolf.”

He grumbled something unintelligible but carefully extricated himself from her embrace and stood, water dripping off his body as he climbed out of the tub. The air felt blessedly cool against his skin, and he took several deep breaths, trying to get his bearings.

Behind him, his wife was still laughing softly, her eyes sparkling as she watched him. “I should have known better than to put a Northerner in a dragon’s bath.”

Cregan grabbed a towel and began to dry off, his movements a little less graceful than usual. “I think I prefer the snows of the godswood to whatever molten lake that is.”

She smiled, her expression softening as she leaned against the edge of the tub, her chin resting on her folded arms. “I’m sorry, love. I forget, sometimes, how different we are. The fire in me, the cold in you.”

He shook his head, his heart warming at her words, despite the chill now settling in his bones. “We’ve always been different. That’s what makes it work.”

She looked at him, her eyes filled with a warmth that had nothing to do with the water. “I wouldn’t change a thing about you.”

He smirked, draping the towel around his waist and leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead. “Not even my aversion to your fiery baths?”

She grinned, her fingers tracing a light pattern on his arm. “Not even that. It just means more for me.”

He chuckled, shaking his head as he sat on the edge of the tub, close enough to feel her warmth but far enough to keep from melting. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love me for it.”

“Aye,” he said softly, his eyes meeting hers, his voice filled with sincerity. “That I do.”

She reached out, her hand slipping into his, squeezing gently. “We’ll find a middle ground, my wolf.”

He nodded, leaning in to kiss her softly, their breaths mingling in the steam-filled air. “We always do.”

And as they sat there, hand in hand, the warmth of the fire between them, Cregan knew that no matter how hot or cold life became, they would always find a way to balance each other out—fire and ice, wolf and dragon, husband and wife.

#house of the dragon #hotd x reader #hotd #hotd x y/n #hotd x you #cregan stark x reader #cregan stark #cregan x reader #cregan x you #cregan x y/n #hotd cregan

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azullumi · 7 months ago

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"it's you hiding in limelight" ; aventurine

requested by anon — “can you do or already done pre-relationship aventurine headcanons? like what is he like before and how he warms up” premise — it takes a lot for him to trust someone. it’s a gentle and steady process; the fire burns slowly between you and him, and despite the uncertainty whether the flame is going to burn out or consume him in the end, he lets the warmth seep through the cracks of his soul. content tags and warnings — pairing: gender-neutral reader w/ aventurine | pre-relationship, fluff, a little word vomit, not proofread | wc: 0.7k ; headcanons

note from me — i was so conflicted while writing this,, and it doesn't help that i'm trying to figure out if my cat is pregnant or just fat...

It’s not easy to make AVENTURINE warm up.

He doesn’t trust anyone easily, seeing relationships as superficial, as something that is simply a give-and-take thing, a bet, a deal. He has quite a one-way view on relationships, only seeing it as something that would be beneficial to him—it’s not like he knows how to maintain such relationships either. He thinks that showering them with gifts, no matter how expensive, would make them stay, a key to securing loyalty and affection.

So when he finds himself slowly being drawn to you, being at ease whenever you’re around, as he initiates small talks and silly bets, he wouldn’t know how to break it down from there. You’re just so warm and easy to talk to, it’s comforting (like a gentle breeze). He simply keeps everyone at arm’s length, maintaining a careful distance, and yet, like a living paradox, he can feel intimately close at times to you—it’s his subtle flirting, consistent compliments, and often lingering touches.

He is hesitant in all of his bones, hard to grasp, complex and distant, but if you reach even for a little, he’ll let you hold him in your hands. He’s confusing; the thread of his words and actions are intertwined with each other but you can never find the meaning of it. It’s a heavy needlepoint of embroidery that can never be finished, a small part missing from the piece and you could never figure out what it is that you’re lacking. It’s not easy to tell if he sees you only as a friend or something more than that.

You need to be patient and persistent with him, understanding that he himself struggles with the idea of vulnerability; he fears that opening up to pain and disappointment, leaving him on his own in the end. However, over time, he eventually lowers his guard and allows himself to trust you, finding solace in your presence. When the two of you first met, his shoulders were always tense and he kept his emotions guarded behind a mask, but now, he lets go of what he carries even if it’s just for a bit, as long as it’s you he is with.

You can feel the distance closing in, the fine-drawn line of vulnerability and wariness seaming into one. You can almost touch the vanishing point between you and him, intertwining with each other, and you don’t fail to recognize the subtle shift in his actions, in his gestures, in everything about him and all that you knew.

It may be a small and mundane thing but his tendency to shower his “friends” with expensive gifts and asking to choose among which one that they would like—albeit he also does to you on some occasions—all contrasts with the simplicity of the tokens he gives you. He reserves a different kind of gesture for you, one that is laced with thoughtfulness and sincerity rather than the utter value of the gift itself.

Probably brought a bracelet one time and told you of it, but didn’t mention that it has a pair, a matching one, which he bought for himself (and never wore). He has it hidden in his drawers, amidst his precious items, only to take out from time to time to stare at it. It’s a secret he’ll forever take to his grave.

Your constant reassurance, gentleness, and kindness breaks down his defenses, the mask crumbling into unrecognizable pieces. He didn’t think he would trust someone this much, nor would he ever harbor such soft feelings—velveted affections, sweet sounds of laughter, benign words that buries itself in his chest, finding solitude in one another’s presence, basking in the warmth of it all.

Oh, to have someone see him beyond the walls he built, it scares him in some way—when you have forever listened to the chorus of condemns orchestrated by your mind, you’ll only think that you’re unlovable to anyone, that’s how it was for him, and yet to you, it comes easy as if he’s simply tangled threads that only needs to be unraveled carefully and gently. He didn’t know nor did he ever think that you'd see stars on his scars when he laid himself bare for you to see the marks that dusted his skin.

Aventurine feels like he could drown in the feeling. It’s a gentle tide that crawls to the shore and drags him along with the warm currents (the smell of blood is replaced with the taste of salt on his lips); a tender fire that burns slowly, and despite the uncertainty whether the flame is going to burn out or consume him, he’ll let the light in.

GRAH DRUM ROLLS PLEASE IM ANNOUNCING THE PRESENCE OF THE OUTSTANDING AND AMAZING FELI @dr-felitas (sometimes i type in your old user and wonder why it's not popping out and then i just go oh!) anyways, this is for you my fellow dry-talker npc,, i honestly find it cute that we're starting to adopt each other's mannerisms or texting language or pattern cause like i only started saying "right!?" (when i agree on something) because of you (back then i only say real or just nothing at all :D) and i think i began to use some of your vocabulary 😭. and somehow my ability to understand and read through typos are getting better all thanks to you 🔥🔥🔥 the world will end first before you even get to spell that word properly jkjk i love you with all of your typos, incoherent words, stupid autocorrect mwamwamwa (i say as if im im not the same) !! anyways you are a light in my life and you're one of the reasons why i still continue to pick up the pen and write !! you've been of great help and inspiration in my writings <33 without you, i probably wouldn't be able to get through the hell hole of last month, thank you. ily lots mwaa !!

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starksweasley · 19 days ago

Text

No Promises // Rhysand

Summary: In which you and Rhysand hate each other, but maybe not really.

Word Count: 2337

The air of the Autumn Court woods is thick with the scent of damp earth and decaying leaves. Your blade whispers through the air as you move, every sense heightened. A mission deep in Beron’s territory is dangerous, but you’ve grown used to danger. What’s one more trek into hostile lands compared to centuries of warfare and subterfuge?

But you hadn’t expected them.

The rustle of leaves is subtle but distinct, and you spin, blade raised. Two figures step out of the shadows, their faces as familiar as your own reflection—Rhysand and Cassian. The High Lord of the Night Court and his brutish General. Your grip on your weapon tightens, though Cassian’s hands are raised in mock surrender.

“Fancy seeing you here, sweetheart,” Cassian says with a lopsided grin, his hazel eyes glinting with humor. His stance is deceptively relaxed, but you know better than to assume he’s unprepared. Every inch of him is coiled, ready to spring into action if necessary.

“Cassian,” you say curtly, though you don’t lower your blade. Your gaze flicks to Rhysand, who steps out of the shadows with a grace that seems almost lazy, though his sharp violet eyes miss nothing. They rake over you, taking in every detail of your stance, your weapon, and the defiant tilt of your chin. It feels like he’s weighing and dissecting you in a single glance.

“Still Tamlin’s loyal little pet, I see,” Rhysand drawls, the corner of his mouth curving in a smirk that you’ve dreamed of wiping off his face for centuries. His voice is as smooth as silk, but there’s an undercurrent of something sharper, something taunting, as if he’s daring you to respond.

You bristle, your fingers tightening on the hilt of your blade. His words cut deeper than you’d like to admit, but you don’t rise to the bait. Not this time. Instead, you force yourself to sheath your weapon, though you keep your stance defensive, muscles taut and ready. “What are you doing here?” you demand, your tone clipped and icy.

Rhysand’s smirk deepens, and he steps closer, his shadows curling around his boots like loyal pets. “The same thing as you, I imagine,” he says smoothly. “A little sabotage, a little chaos. Though I doubt your reasons are as noble as ours.”

“Noble?” you scoff. “You mean self-serving. Don’t pretend you’re here out of the goodness of your heart, Rhysand.”

Cassian steps between you, his massive form an unspoken reminder to keep your tempers in check. His broad shoulders block your view of Rhysand, and his tone carries a note of exasperation. “Alright, kids, let’s play nice. The Autumn Court’s our real enemy, remember?”

You barely hear him over the pounding of your heart, your glare locked on Rhysand like a tether. His expression doesn’t waver, still fixed in that insufferable smirk that makes your blood boil.

“Stay out of this, Cassian,” you both snap, your voices colliding with identical vehemence. The sound carries in the stillness of the forest, as though the trees themselves are judging your childish bickering.

Cassian sighs, muttering something under his breath about being surrounded by stubborn children. He raises his hands in mock surrender, stepping back just enough to let the tension between you and Rhysand simmer unchecked. His gaze flicks between you both, clearly unimpressed but unwilling to intervene further.

Before Cassian can offer another quip, a sharp thwip breaks the tense silence. An arrow embeds itself in the tree beside you, the shaft quivering from the force of the impact. Instinct takes over, and you lunge to the side just as another arrow whizzes past where your head had been a heartbeat earlier.

“Ambush,” Cassian growls, drawing his sword in one fluid motion.

Rhysand is already moving, his shadows unfurling like serpents, slithering through the clearing to sow chaos. His hands glow faintly, magic sparking at his fingertips as he summons blasts of darkness that hurl two sentries into the trees with sickening thuds. You barely have time to curse under your breath as the Autumn Court sentries emerge from the underbrush, their weapons gleaming like fire-forged teeth in the dim light.

They move with precision, flanking and attacking in coordinated bursts. The first soldier lunges at you, and your blade meets his with a deafening clang. You twist sharply, driving your heel into his knee and bringing your weapon up to slash across his exposed side. He crumples with a guttural scream, but there’s no time to savor the victory. Another attacker barrels toward you, his axe glinting in the sparse moonlight.

Cassian’s roar splits the air as he intercepts the soldier, cleaving through his opponent with a brutal swing of his sword. Blood sprays, painting the clearing in a macabre sheen. “Focus!” he barks, casting a quick glance your way before turning to block another strike aimed at his side.

Your attention snaps back to your immediate threat as a sentry’s dagger slices through the fabric of your sleeve, nicking your arm. You hiss in pain but counter with a swift upward thrust, catching him under the chin. He shouts, collapsing to the ground.

Rhysand’s magic pulses in the air, a suffocating wave of power that crushes three sentries in its wake. His shadows dart and weave like sentient beings, tripping attackers and wrapping around throats. One sentry collapses mid-lunge, his sword clattering uselessly to the forest floor as the life drains from his eyes.

It’s chaos. The clash of steel and the cries of the dying create a symphony of violence that rings in your ears. You’re holding your own, barely, when your peripheral vision catches a glint of movement. An archer perched in the high branches, his bow drawn and aimed at Rhysand’s unprotected chest.

Time slows as you watch the arrow leave the string, its deadly tip slicing through the air with cruel precision. Your heart lurches, your body moving before your mind can catch up. The world narrows to the single act of stepping in front of the High Lord of Night.

A sharp, searing pain explodes in your abdomen as the arrow buries itself deep. The force of it drives you back a step, your breath hitching as you clutch at the wound. Warmth seeps through your fingers, staining your tunic crimson. The clearing tilts and sways, but you grit your teeth and force yourself to stay upright, raising your blade to block a sentry who charges you, wild-eyed and snarling.

“No!” Rhysand’s voice cuts through the chaos, sharper than any blade, filled with something raw and unfamiliar. In an instant, he’s at your side, his magic surging outward in a dark, furious wave that obliterates the remaining sentries. The clearing falls eerily silent, the only sounds the ragged breaths of the three of you and the faint rustle of leaves disturbed by the fading shadows.

“You reckless fool,” Rhysand hisses, his hands pressing firmly against the wound in your stomach to stem the bleeding. The warm stickiness of blood seeps through his fingers, and his usual smirk is nowhere to be seen. In its place is an expression you’ve never witnessed before—raw, almost panicked, as if the sight of you like this unravels something deep inside him.

Cassian drops to his knees at your other side, his face pale and drawn. His voice is steady, but you catch the tremor beneath it. “We need to get her to Madja. Now.”

“I’m fine,” you manage to grit out, though the sharp, twisting agony in your stomach makes the words sound more like a desperate lie. Your vision blurs, and every breath is a battle.

“Shut up,” Rhysand snaps, his sharp tone a mask for the desperation in his eyes. His hands are unnervingly gentle as they scoop you into his arms. The movement sends a fresh wave of pain radiating through you, and you gasp, clutching weakly at his shirt.

“You’re not dying in this gods-forsaken forest,” he mutters, his jaw tight with determination. He glances at Cassian, and with a nod, they’re both moving. Rhysand’s grip on you is firm yet protective, his magic already whispering at the edges of your consciousness, keeping you tethered to the waking world.

You try to speak, to argue, to tell him that you don’t want to owe him anything. But the weight of exhaustion presses down on you, pulling you into a darkness that feels cold and endless. The last thing you hear is the faint, frantic thrum of Rhysand’s heartbeat against your cheek as everything goes black.

When you wake, the first thing you notice is the soft glow of faelight illuminating the room. The second is the figure sitting beside the bed, his elbows resting on his knees, his head bowed. Rhysand.

“You’re awake,” he says, his voice uncharacteristically quiet as his gaze meets yours. There’s no smirk, no taunt—just an intensity that makes your chest ache more than the wound.

“Why am I not dead?” you mutter, your throat dry.

“Because you’re too stubborn to die,” he says, a flicker of a smile ghosting across his lips. Then his expression hardens. “And too foolish to stay out of danger. What the hell were you thinking, throwing yourself in front of that arrow?”

The sharpness in his voice startles you, and your chest tightens with indignation. “I saved your life, Rhysand. Forgive me for not wanting the Autumn Court to take out their greatest threat.”

“You think I needed saving?” he snaps, leaning forward, his violet eyes blazing. “Do you have any idea what could have happened? What almost happened?”

Your temper flares, and you push yourself up despite the pain. “And what was I supposed to do? Stand there and watch you die?” Your voice rises, fueled by frustration and the lingering sting of his words.

“Yes!” he bites out, his shadows curling at the edges of the room like restless predators. “Yes, you were supposed to stay out of it. You could’ve died, and then what?”

His anger collides with your own, a clash that leaves the room feeling charged and suffocating. “I’m not some fragile thing that needs to be protected,” you retort, your voice shaking slightly but no less fierce. “I made a choice.”

“A stupid one,” he growls, standing abruptly. The movement is fluid, and it sets your heart pounding for reasons you can’t entirely explain. “Do you think I want your blood on my hands? That I want to…” His voice falters, and he turns away, dragging a hand through his hair. “Gods, you drive me insane.”

The words hang in the air, heavy with an emotion you can’t quite name. The tension is unbearable, and before you can stop yourself, you say, “Maybe you should stop caring so much, then.”

He spins back to you, his movements swift and precise, and the heat in his gaze has shifted. The anger still burns in those violet eyes. “Maybe I can’t,” he murmurs, his voice dropping to a husky whisper, like a confession he didn’t mean to make.

You blink, caught off guard. Your chest tightens with the weight of his words, and for a moment, you forget how to breathe. He takes a step closer, and the room seems to shrink. The shadows around him flicker like flames, as though they, too, are drawn to the pull between you.

“You…” he begins, his voice breaking slightly, and he looks at you with an intensity that makes your heart skip a beat. His hand twitches at his side, as though he’s debating whether to reach for you or pull away.

The silence stretches, taut and fragile, until he finally makes his choice. He steps closer, his presence overwhelming, and when he leans down, the space between you feels electric, crackling with unspoken words and unresolved emotions. “You…” he begins, his voice a whisper, but whatever he was going to say is lost as his lips crush against yours.

The kiss is raw and desperate, filled with years of anger, frustration, and something far more vulnerable. His hands cup your face, fingers trembling slightly as they press against your skin, grounding him in this moment. You’re too stunned to react at first, your mind racing to catch up with what’s happening. But then the fire of his kiss ignites something deep within you, and you’re kissing him back with equal fervor, pouring every ounce of defiance and longing into it. Your hands find their way to his shoulders, clutching the fabric of his shirt as though holding onto him will keep you anchored.

When he finally pulls away, his breath is ragged, his forehead resting against yours. His eyes search your face, as though looking for answers to questions he’s too afraid to ask. “Don’t ever do that again,” he says hoarsely, his voice breaking on the last word. For once, there’s no command in his tone, only a plea.

You swallow hard, your own breath coming in uneven gasps. You don’t know whether to push him away or pull him closer, and the weight of the moment threatens to crush you.

For a moment, silence lingers between you, thick with unspoken truths. Then, with an unexpected gentleness, Rhysand’s hand trails down to your wrist, where his thumb brushes over your pulse. It’s steady now, unlike his own heartbeat, which thunders against his ribs. “You scare me,” he admits quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “And I hate that I care enough to be scared.”

“Rhys,” you begin, unsure of what to say. His name is a soft exhale on your lips, but it seems to be enough for him.

“Just rest,” he interrupts, his voice firmer now, though his eyes remain soft. “We’ll talk later.” His shadows curl protectively around the edges of the room, as if creating a barrier between you and the rest of the world. “And promise me you'll never pull shit like that again.”

You close your eyes, feeling a sort of calm blanket you before you finally whisper, "Can't promise that."

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reiding-writing · 3 months ago

Text

ECHOES OF SILENCE — SPENCER REID!

digging too deep into something you’re not directly involved in can have consequences.

s1!spencer x fem!reader | mystery | 3.3k | event masterlist.

| part one. | part two. | part three. |

main masterlist.

a/n — part two babyyyy, with a few cameos for my babes, iykyk

You sit in the back of the lecture hall, but you’ve stopped listening.

The words from the professor dissolve into the noise of your own thoughts, thoughts that loop in a quiet, panicked hum.

It’s been weeks since you first brought up your theory—missing college girls, all within a radius too tight to be coincidence—and still, no one’s taken you seriously. A joke, they said. A distraction from exams, group projects, and campus parties.

The friends who once nodded when you talked now roll their eyes, turning their backs on you with easy laughter when you bring it up. Even your roommate, who had seemed concerned at first, has started to shut the door a little too firmly when you try to explain the latest detail you’ve uncovered.

Outside, the October air bites, but you hardly notice. You move through campus like a ghost, just as unnoticed as the girls who disappeared.

There's something wrong here, you can feel it—but nobody else seems to care. The administration deflected your concerns with vague reassurances about “young adults finding their own path.” The words were polished, as if they’d been spoken a hundred times before.

When you left their office, you couldn’t help but wonder if they had a protocol for when girls like that vanished.

You’re walking back to your dorm when your phone buzzes, Spencer’s voice echoing through the receiver. The relief is immediate; at least he believes you. You answer, and his voice, calm but strained, fills the silence.

“I’ve been looking into the disappearances,” he says without preamble. “It’s not just your local colleges.”

Your pulse quickens. You stop mid-step, scanning the quad as if something will jump out at you. “What do you mean?”

“We’ve connected similar cases in colleges further out in the city. Girls, vanishing from Maryland, Strayer—there’s a pattern. The BAU is looking at it now.”

You knew it. That cold knot in your stomach tightens further as he continues.

“We’re talking about a coordinated effort. Someone, or a group, is targeting them. It’s not random.”

The world feels sharper, the shadows darker, like something is lurking just out of sight. “Why hasn’t anyone said anything?”

Spencer sighs. “It’s under the radar. They know how to blend in, make it look like the girls left voluntarily, but the timeline doesn’t fit. Whoever this is, they’re careful. But they’re getting bolder. You were right to be worried.”

You swallow hard, but your throat is dry. This was more than you’d imagined. “So, what do we do?”

His voice lowers. “You need to be careful. We’re dealing with something bigger than just local authorities. The BAU is moving, but these people are professionals. If they know someone’s onto them…”

You don’t need him to finish the sentence. It hangs in the air between you, as heavy as the threat itself. You look around again, this time truly seeing the faces of the students passing by. Any one of them could be next. Or maybe it’s already too late for some.

—

The scent of stale coffee fills the local police department’s waiting area, mixing with the sharp tang of disinfectant. You sit across from Spencer, flipping through a stack of missing person reports he’s been able to pull.

The faces of the girls stare back at you from the pages—smiling in yearbook photos, carefree and young. It’s hard to reconcile the images with their fates, with the cold emptiness that follows their names and the faint, scribbled notes: last seen at a party, disappeared after a study group, no signs of forced entry.

You’re glad that Spencer agreed to let you in on the official investigation, unsure you’d be able to go about your daily life with that malingering thought in the back of your mind that any one of the girls you see on a day-to-day basis could be the next addition to your notebook, another number in the case. A statistic.

Spencer sets another file on the table between you, his brow furrowed in concentration. “We’ve got a disturbing amount of overlap here. Same age range, similar social circles. Most of them were last seen at crowded events.”

You nod, skimming through the details. You knew this was bad, but seeing it all laid out like this, in official reports, makes it more real. “They’re being targeted at parties,” you mutter, piecing it together aloud. “Whoever’s doing this knows exactly how to disappear them without raising any alarms.”

Just then, Detective Walker strides in. You recognise her as the officer you’d spoken to a few weeks ago when you first voiced your concerns. She was dismissive then, barely giving you five minutes before handing you off to a clerk. Now, her expression is more serious, though a hint of skepticism still lingers in her sharp eyes.

“So, you’re telling me these disappearances aren’t just coincidence?” Walker asks, dropping into the chair opposite you. She flips open one of the files but doesn’t really look at it. “I don’t know, kids come and go all the time. Some of them just don’t want to be found.”

Spencer, ever patient, sits up straight. “We’ve been tracking similar cases across multiple colleges across D.C. These girls didn’t just decide to leave. There are too many similarities. Someone is orchestrating this.”

Walker glances at you, then at Spencer. The silence stretches long enough for you to feel the doubt creeping in, but finally, she leans back, rubbing his jaw. “Alright. I’ll bite. Let’s say this is more than it looks. What exactly are we dealing with here?”

A flicker of relief passes between you and Spencer. Walker isn’t fully convinced yet, but at least she’s listening.

Over the next few days, you sit in on interviews with the families of the missing girls, listening as they recount the last time they saw their daughters.

Most of the stories are eerily similar: the girls were seen heading to a party or a study group, sometimes in crowded dorms, other times at social hangouts, but never alone.

No one ever saw them leave. No one noticed them slip away. One moment they were there, and the next, gone, like a shadow in the middle of a crowded room.

You start to notice something else too—the faint look of frustration in the families’ eyes. A few mothers mutter how the police didn’t take their worries seriously at first, how they’d been told their daughters were probably off with friends or boyfriends, that they’d come back eventually. But they never did.

And you sympathise, if you were frustrated by their negligence, you couldn’t even imagine how awful it felt for them.

Later that week, back at campus, you and Spencer sift through more data in the library’s back corner, out of sight of curious students. You’re exhausted, but you can’t stop, not now. The glow of your laptop screen reflects off your tired eyes as you comb through social media profiles and event listings. Then something clicks.

“There’s a circle,” you whisper, pulling up a list of campus groups, scanning for overlapping names and attendees. “They’re attending parties and groups in places that are all within an hour radius from each other.”

Spencer leans in, looking over your shoulder. “We need more data. There’s got to be something to lead us to a central location.”

Spencer rifles through his bag for a few seconds before pulling out his phone, failing in a number and letting it ring on speaker.

“Giver of all things pink and fluffy, how can I help you boy genius?”

You furrow your eyebrows at the response, but Spencer seems unfazed.

“Hey Garcia, we need access to everything connected to these campus events,” He explains, laying out your findings. “Emails, attendance lists, anything that could show us who’s been organising these things. There’s something bigger going on.”

The sound of keyboard taps comes over the phone, joined by a “Watch a true genius do her work,”

The line goes silent for a few second barr the keys, and then there’s a small tut from the woman on the other end. “Uh, there’s a student forum for D.C colleges, seems like they share addresses and dates for certain student events with each other, all of our linked events being mentioned at least once, seemingly by the same few individuals,”

There’s another small pause, and then an unhappy hum. “They just posted a new party listing today, I’ll send you the date and address,”

“Thanks Garcia,”

“No problem Wonder Boy, Penny G out!”

You glance at Spencer, a cold wave of dread hitting you as the phone goes dead. This is it, almost certainly proof that someone’s been hunting these girls. And worse, they’re not done.

Walker is going to have to believe you now.

—

The first message arrives late one night, just as you’re about to turn off your computer. It’s an email from handle that’s just a bunch of letters and numbers, but the subject line—STOP—is what catches your attention. You hesitate, thinking it might be spam, but something feels wrong. Against your better judgment, you click.

You don’t know what you’re getting into. Walk away, or you’ll end up like the others.

There’s no signature, no indication of who it’s from, but the message is clear. You stare at the words, your pulse suddenly racing, and glance around your darkened dorm room.

The blinds are drawn, but you feel exposed, as though someone’s watching you right now. Your hand hovers over the mouse, and instinctively, you delete the email, but the unease doesn’t go away. Instead, it festers, a growing knot in your gut.

You immediately call Spencer. His voice is groggy but sharpens when you tell him what happened. “I think they’re onto us,” You breathe out, voice heavy with concern.

You can hear the ruffle of what you assume to be his sheets as he sits up. “We need to be careful. You should stay somewhere else for a few days.”

You agree, but sleep doesn’t come easy. The next morning, you pack a small bag and move into a motel on the edge of town, one Spencer picked for its anonymity.

You don’t tell anyone where you’ve gone, not even your closest friends. It feels safer that way. Still, the tension clings to you like a second skin. You can’t help but check your surroundings every few minutes, scanning faces and cars, wondering if one of them belongs to the person who sent that message.

A few days later, you’re sitting across from Spencer in his car, watching the local diner where you’re set to meet Detective Walker. The message still lingers in your mind, but you push it aside as Walker arrives, sliding into the booth with a grim expression.

“We found something,” She says without any preamble, placing a thin file on the table between you and Spencer. “Her name’s Charlotte Francis. She went missing last year, same pattern—college student, disappeared after a party. Only, we found her. Alive.”

You and Spencer exchange a look. “Where is she now?” Spencer asks, leaning forward.

Walker sighs, rubbing the back of her neck. “She’s in a trauma center. We haven’t been able to get much out of her, but... what little she’s told us? It’s bad. Really bad.”

Your stomach turns. “What did she say?”

Walker hesitates before speaking. “She was taken by a group—an underground ring, we think it’s traffickers. They exploit them, sometimes for months, before they disappear completely. Charlotte’s one of the few we’ve ever recovered.”

You feel the blood drain from your face. Exploit. The word echoes in your mind, heavy with implications. “She’s... she’s still alive though, right? Can we talk to her?”

Walker nods, but there’s no relief in her expression. “She’s alive, but barely. She’s not the same girl who went missing. The trauma, the things they did to her... it broke her. She won’t even look people in the eye. Most of the time, she doesn’t speak.”

A chill runs down your spine. You’ve been chasing this story, desperate for answers, but now you wonder if you’re getting too close. The warning from the email comes rushing back—Walk away, or you’ll end up like the others.

Later that day, you and Spencer visit the trauma center where Charlotte is being kept. The place is sterile, too clean, and the soft hum of fluorescent lights only heightens your anxiety.

A nurse leads you to a small room where Charlotte sits on a bed, staring out the window, her face hollow and gaunt. Her eyes don’t flicker toward you when you enter, and she barely reacts when Spencer speaks to her in a gentle voice.

“Charlotte? My name’s Spencer Reid, I’m with the FBI, is it alright if I ask you some questions?”

She nods stuntedly, barely so much as a flicker of acknowledgment in her expression. “Charli,”

Spencer blinks. “Sorry?”

“Don’t— call me Charlotte, please,”

“Right,” Spencer nods softly, pulling up one of the plastic guest chairs and motioning for you to do the same. “Of course, that’s no problem,”

The conversation is slow, almost non-existent, and it’s only when you mention the parties that she turns her head slightly, just enough for you to see the pain etched deep into her expression.

“Don’t,” she whispers, her voice a fragile thread. “Don’t look for them. They’ll find you.”

The weight of her words settles over you like a suffocating blanket. You know now that this is bigger than you ever imagined—more dangerous, more personal. And suddenly, the fear isn’t just about finding out the truth. It’s about what happens when the truth finds you.

As you leave the trauma center, Spencer glances at you under his glasses, his face tense with unspoken worry. “We’re getting close, but this is going to get worse before it gets better. They’re watching us.”

You nod, but you can’t shake the feeling creeping over you. Charli’s warning plays over and over in your mind. How many girls have vanished without a trace? How many more are out there, waiting to be found—or worse, already gone?

And how long before you become one of them?

—

Garcia’s lead takes you to a club on the outskirts of the Georgetown campus, one of those places that’s just far enough from the city to feel unsafe but close enough to attract the usual crowd of college students.

The police, along with Spencer and his team from the BAU, have planned the sting carefully—too carefully, you hope. The club is being watched, plainclothes officers mixed into the crowd, waiting for the moment to strike.

You’re there too, disguised as just another student, your nerves stretched thin as you wait for the signal. The goal is simple: get enough evidence to take down the ring, and rescue anyone being held against their will.

Spencer parks a few blocks away, both of you agreeing it’s better to approach on foot. The night air is thick with humidity, and a nervous energy buzzes between you as you walk toward the pulsing neon sign that marks the entrance.

The club is loud, chaotic. Inside, bodies move in time with the beat of the music, students laughing and drinking without a care in the world. But your focus isn’t on the crowd. It’s on the VIP section in the back, cordoned off by a velvet rope and guarded by two burly men. Spencer’s sharp eyes catch it too.

“That’ll be where it’s happening,” he mutters, nodding toward the area. “It’s the only place private enough to be able to make someone disappear without being noticed.”

You and Spencer inch closer, blending in with the throng of students. You act casual, pretending to sip a drink you grabbed from the bar. Your heart pounds in your chest as you try to look everywhere at once, scanning faces, trying to recognize anyone who fits the descriptions from the missing girls’ reports.

Then you see it.

A girl—too young, too innocent-looking—escorted by one of the guards through the VIP entrance. She glances around, clearly out of place, and you see the flicker of hesitance in her eyes just before she disappears behind the curtain. You nudge Spencer, your throat tightening.

“Spencer,” you say, voice barely a whisper.

He nods, tense. “Let’s get closer, but keep your head down. We can’t risk getting caught.”

You push forward, slipping through the crowd until you’re just a few feet from the VIP area. Spencer’s already pulling out his phone, discreetly trying to snap photos for evidence.

But as you lean in to catch a glimpse beyond the curtain, your foot catches on something, and you stumble forward—just enough to attract the attention of the guard.

“Hey!” the guard shouts, immediately stepping toward you.

Panic surges through you. Spencer grabs your arm, pulling you back, and you both make a quick retreat, weaving through the crowd. The music swells around you, but it does nothing to drown out the sound of the guards following close behind.

Your heart races as you dart through the narrow hallway toward the back exit, Spencer right on your heels.

“We need to get out of here—now,” he hisses, eyes darting toward the door.

You don’t need to be told twice. Together, you shove through the exit, spilling into the dark alleyway. The door slams behind you, and you take the opportunity to breathe.

“Oh thank god,” You slap a hand over your chest as you look over your shoulder towards Spencer behind you.

Except he isn’t there.

“Spencer?” you question, voice echoing empty in the alleyway.

A cold wave of dread washes over you. You spin in place, the sounds of shouting fading into the background. “Spencer!” you call again, louder this time, but it’s no use.

The realisation hits you like a punch to the gut. He’s not here. And you’re alone.

“Okay, okay breathe,” You exhale heavily, motioning downwards with your hand to calm yourself down. “Just go back to the car, yeah,”

You nod to yourself as you walk back towards the main street, taking routine breaths in through your nose and out through your mouth.

“Everything’s good, we’re fine,” You’re not exactly sure you’re convincing yourself, but you don’t deny the relief you feel when you spot the light spilling from a street lamp around the corner.

And then someone grabs you from behind, yanking you backwards. A hand clamps over your mouth, and you struggle, kicking and thrashing, but it’s no use. A van door slams shut, and everything goes dark.

— part three !!

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #mgg #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds fluff #spencer reid angst #criminal minds angst

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rafeysbangs · 12 hours ago

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ꪆৎ𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖↷ ex!bf!rafe sneaks into your room late at night...

warnings ; MDNI !!, ex!bf!rafe, soft!rafe i guess, oral f. receiving, fingering, unprotected sex, p in v, rafe calls reader baby, creampie, aftercare ! yippee

notes ; phew... enjoyyy !

the cool night air swept through your open balcony door, carrying the distant hum of cicadas. you were curled up in bed, trying to focus on the book in your hands, when the faint scrape of shoes against metal made your heart leap.

"rafe?" you whispered harshly, your pulse quickening as his familiar frame hauled itself over the edge of the balcony.

"don’t freak out," he said quickly, holding his hands up as if to calm you. his hair was a mess, his eyes wild, and he looked more desperate than you’d ever seen him.

"are you insane? you can’t be here, especially not at this hour," you hissed, glancing nervously at your door.

but rafe wasn’t listening. he crossed the room in two long strides, his voice cracking as he said, "i had to see you. i can’t- i can’t do this without you."

you folded your arms, trying to stand your ground, even as your chest tightened at the raw edge in his tone. "we broke up, rafe. i broke up with you. and you know why. i can’t keep pretending it doesn’t kill me every time i see you flirting with someone else."

"i wasn’t-" he started, but you cut him off with a sharp look.

"don’t lie to me. i saw you. over and over again. it’s too much, rafe. i couldn’t do it anymore."

his hands raked through his hair, his frustration evident. "it wasn’t what you thought, i swear. i’m... i’m a mess without you, okay? i’ve been losing my mind since you left. no one else matters- no one but you. i’m obsessed with you, and i’ll prove it. i’ll do whatever it takes to make it right."

"rafe," you began, your voice softer now, but he stepped closer, his hands gripping yours like his life depended on it.

"it’ll never happen again. i swear on everything. just... just give me one more chance," he pleaded, his blue eyes locking onto yours, filled with a vulnerability that made your heart ache.

you tried to resist, tried to remind yourself why you ended things, but the way he looked at you, like you were his entire world, made it nearly impossible.

"i don’t know if i can trust you," you said quietly, your voice trembling.

"you can," he said, his voice steady. "i’ll spend the rest of my life proving it to you if i have to."

before you could argue further, his lips were on yours, cutting off your words in a kiss so desperate, so full of longing, that it left you breathless. your resolve crumbled as his hands cupped your face, pulling you closer.

the kiss deepened, his lips trailing to your jaw and down your neck as your back hit the bed. he hovered over you, his breath hot against your skin as he murmured your name like a prayer.

your fingers tangled in his hair as his lips travelled down your body, heat pooled in your lower stomach watching him grow closer to the waistband of your tiny pyjama shorts.

he stopped there, slowly littering kisses as he looked up at you, you chewed at your bottom lip as your eyes were stuck on his, "rafe..."

"i'll make you feel good baby... don't worry" he whispered against your skin, sending shivers up your spine. his course fingers connected with your clothed pussy, slowly rubbing circles to make you squirm.

he grinned when he saw you twitch at his touch, your clit aching from the lack of direct contact. as if he could read your body, he pulled your shorts to the side, now faced with soaked panties staring back at him.

rafe sighed gratefully, "you're so soaked already, god you're perfect" he mumbled. his long fingers traced your slit and he chuckled a little to himself before pulling your panties to the side too.

without warning, his mouth connected with your wet cunt, sloppy kisses and flicks of his tongue made your eyes roll back before he slid a finger through your folds again. he tapped at your aching hole before sliding a finger in, watching your face contort as you got used to the welcome intrusion.

you groaned, "god-" rafe's smirk perking up against your heat, he came up for air for a second, "rafe's fine baby.."

you threw your head back as he licked a stripe down your pussy, grinning as he slid another finger inside, curling them before mercilessly pumping them in and out.

one thing leads to another, you're bent over the bed, rafe's cock bulging out of your stomach as his hips snap against your ass. a loud whine escapes your lips as he's rearranging your guts. your tight walls clamping desperately around his cock as your ass bounces with every thrust.

his tip brushes your cervix as he thrusts into you a few more times before pulling out and flipping you over mumbling, "need to see your pretty face.."

he shoves your body further onto the bed before climbing over you with his classic smirk. your breathing ragged as your eyes locked with his, he tapped his cock on your pussy before dragging it through your folds. he knew the teasing drove you crazy, your eyebrows cinched together as his ego grew.

a pornographic moan escaped your lips as he slid in again, rolling his hips against yours he pumped his cock at a heavenly pace. your nails left crescent shaped indents as you gripped on rafe's arms, the pleasure sending the both of you into overdrive.

rafe cursed as his thrusts grew sloppy, the way your gummy walls were squeezing him made him dizzy, his release creeping up on him. you too could feel a familiar coil tightening in your stomach, unsurprised at the discovery that rafe was the only one to be able to make you cum, even when you're technically broken up.

he lifts a hand and connects it with one of your tits, his tongue darting between his lips as he massaged the fat, your nipple between his fingers. you whimpered as his cock kissed your cervix before finally you felt the coil snap, your orgasm overpowering you.

the way your pussy clenched rafe's cock as you finished around him caused him to groan gutturally, spilling his release into your sopping hole. he collapsed on top of you, littering your neck and cheeks with kisses as he heavily breathed.

"fuck.. i love you baby" he said finally before getting up and slowly pulling out, his release leaking from you a little. he grinned at the sight and pumped to fingers into your pussy, pushing his cum back inside you. "i'll get us a wet towel" he mumbled, walking towards your bathroom after kissing you on the forehead.

taglist ; @rafegetinmybed @doeletteprincess ( feel free to ask to be added! idm! )

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sinfullyrosey · 1 year ago

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(Pussy) Slappin’ Them Fins

Floyd & Jade Leech X GN!Reader

Warnings: Dubcon, Bondage (technically), Fingering, Pussy Slapping, Forced Orgasms, Dom!Reader (again technically), The Twins got Pussies

I’m uno reverse carding all those reader insert fics where the Reader gets violated by the tweels by having Reader violate them.

You’re welcome.

All Characters are 18+

Going to the beach with the Leech twins after they managed to convince (note: threaten) you wasn’t looking so bad right about now. The weather was actually rather sunny and nice, not to hot nor too windy. It was the perfect time to take a dip in the sea, maybe built a sandcastle or two and collect some seashells.

But it was neither of these reasons that changed your mind on the whole matter. Rather, it was the sight you found after taking a brief nap and finding the twins missing. You had called out to them, only to be met with silence. It wasn’t until wandering around a bit more and picking up distant sounds of chirps and gurgles growls that you followed to a hidden rock pool, where you proceeded to find the two missing brothers in their eel forms.

They had managed to get themselves ensnared in a fishing net, something only squabbling, little elvers would manage to get themselves into, yet here they are. You don’t know how they got like this nor did you care.

It was probably Floyd’s fault anyways, the troublemaker.

You decided to stand back to see if they needed any help. You noted that both were stuck in the rocky area but were still slightly submerged in the water, so no risk of drying out or drowning, thankfully. The net had wrapped itself around their tails, torsos, and heads, but didn’t seem to be constricting any vital areas, just kept them in place and prevented them from moving around as freely. They did appear to try and cut the rope with their claws and teeth, but to no avail.

Maybe the nets were merfolk proof? Would make sense as you could picture these two, specifically, stealing some poor fisherman’s catch by cutting the nets and snatching the fish for themselves. Still doesn’t explain why it’s on the beach though. Washed up on shore perhaps? Bet Floyd tried throwing it at Jade as a prank and only got them both trapped.

Probably. Most definitely.

Actually… now that you think about it, this is the first time we’ve ever seen either in such a situation, so now you had the perfect opportunity to get a better look at their merforms without the fear of them trying to drown or bite you…

Hm.

You had always been curious about their anatomy and how it varied from humans’. Specifically, you were curious about the slits located lower on their bodies. They didn’t have any visible genitalia, and yet, had that thin line near where one’s genitals would be.

The twins have never respected your own personal space before and had even poked and prodded at you while swimming and vulnerable, trying to get a peek or two. "They were only curious." they would say. "Just wanted to learn how you and they differed." they claimed.

Well, you were just as curious, and they were just as vulnerable in this moment. So, why not do some prodding of your own?

You approached the tangled twins, eyeing them, looking for that special spot on them. Floyd was a lot more tangled up than Jade, having struggled more fiercely due to hating being restrained. He was huffing and snorting in his native tongue, spitting sounds you could only surmise to be swears. Jade, in contrast, was more calm and calculating, trying to keep the struggling to a minimal as his brother’s movements only served to tighten the ropes around both of them even more.

He looked at you with a hint of relief and slight sheepishness, knowing how unbecoming the two of them look to you, but believing you were there to (begrudgingly) help them. After all, you were always cleaning up NRC’s messes and aiding other students without anything in return. It was just rather embarrassing that this was the situation they needed your help in.

You bent down next to them, seemingly looking for where best to cut or unravel the net. At least, that’s what they thought you were doing.

You gently placed your hand onto Jade’s tail, making his pupils dilate then constrict down to slits in response. He stiffened and followed your movements. Searching. Getting closer. Then you did the same to Floyd, who jumped and flopped his tail when he felt something suddenly touch him in his already volatile state. Both twins were watching you now, following along to where your hands were wandering to.

Mismatched eyes leered as both hands landed right next to a pair of thin, almost unnoticeable lines. Neither move as you studied the spots curiously, fingertips softly pressing down on the surrounding area. Floyd’s tail tip lashed agitatedly back and forth as you continued your prodding.

It wasn’t until you carefully used your fingers to spread open Jade’s slit slightly that the two finally had enough and attempted to strike.

The two tried snapping at you with razor sharp teeth, but the nets held them back, acting as a makeshift muzzle they had issues biting into. This sudden movement from both of them startled you back, but also managed to tighten the net around them enough that neither could barely move.

The ropes dug into their scales, not enough to cut through, but enough to hurt and squeeze those diamond-shaped patterns into their slippery bodies. Floyd began thrashing again but stopped, finally, when Jade bellowed out a gargled snarl at him.

You surmise he told him to stop as his struggling is what was tightening their binds and would only make things worse for them. Both huffed and turned their attention back to you, still gazing down at them.

They were completely at your mercy now.

Too bad you didn’t have any left to give.

Your fingers went back to grazing along the thin slits, making Jade jolt and trying to carefully curl his body away, but couldn’t. Your other hand did the same with Floyd’s earning much of the same results from the twin. You continued your exploration, finger pads feeling the smooth slickness of their openings.

Both twins were tensing up at your prodding, quiet, throaty gargles and hisses escaping passed their lips as you rubbed circles against their sensitive entrances. Both were starting to open up more under your treatment and even leak this clear, sticky liquid. Honestly, you were expecting to see two long cocks slip out, but no, this was all they had it would seem.

You smirked as the two troublesome twins became puddy in your hand, squirming and writhing as you worked at their aquatic pussies. The both of them were chirping up a storm, tails occasionally lightly thrashing in pleasure.

Your fingers slipped in with ease as you began to pump your fingers into them, feeling around along the entrance. The two started to croon and purr at the light intrusion. You chuckled to yourself as their walls squeezed around you, much like how their tails would around prey.

“Cute. Never seen either of you so docile before.” You teased.

That earned you a hiss and two squirmy eels trying once again to get out of their bindings and make you their shared chew toy, only for the cruel reminder to dig into their soft flesh once more.

But you weren’t having any of it and frowned.

It was Floyd’s attempt to lung at you through the net barrier against his brother’s warnings, that caused you to land a quick swat to his sensitive, little slit. The sharp and sudden pain made him yelp and yield back. You quirked a brow at the reaction and proceeded to swat at him again, harder. This time, he let out a gargled moan as his pussy twitched from the pain.

Huh. Interesting.

You turned your gaze over to Jade whose pupils were now blown wide as he stared you down, just daring you to try anything.

And try something you did.

Just like with his brother, your gentle touches turned into harsh slaps to his vulnerable pussy, earning you the same exact reaction out of Jade.

Oh.

Well now, this is interesting.

Without any warning, you proceeded to relentlessly slap both of their pussies with the palms of your hands, sending wave after pleasurable wave of pain straight to their core. Floyd and Jade could only squirm helplessly as their slits became more and more puffy and red from your spanks. They pleaded helplessly in their native tongue for you to stop or slow down and to just let them cum already, please.

Before long, both reached their peaks and crashed hard, their orgasms hitting simultaneously and sending them overboard. Their walls clenched around nothing; holes squirted out their messy juices as you continued to harshly slap them through their orgasms.

You finally relented when both twins gave out and slumped in their spots, trying to come down from their highs as their pussies fluttered and twitched. You chuckled at their blissed-out expressions, eyes nearly rolled back into their skulls and mouths hung wide open, panting and wheezing.

You hummed in satisfaction, gently patting both of their tails in praise.

“Aww, you both did so good and even came together like the good, little sea whores you are!” You chirped.

They only glared at you, but quickly lost any remaining malice and started chirping again when your fingers returned to rubbing at their entrances, once again breaching inward and pumping in and out of them at a slow pace. You chucked as their bodies resumed their needy squirming from before.

“Let’s see if mereels have a sweet spot too, hm?~”

#Twisted Wonderland #Twisted Wonderland Smut #TWST #TWST Smut #Floyd Leech Smut #Floyd Leech X Reader #Jade Leech Smut #Jade Leech X Reader #GN!Reader #originally wrote this on my phone before transferring it to my laptop so it's barely proofread sorry

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cherryandsugar · 11 months ago

Text

Blame

Pairing: Astarion x f!Reader/Tav

Genre: Fluff, Angst, Hurt/Comfort

WC: 2,313

Warnings: set in Act 3 (minor spoilers), reader is referred to as Tav exactly twice, reader is smaller than Karlach, POV changes, major character injury, blood, mentions of death, angst with a happy ending :)

Summary: A grievous injury leaves Tav incapacitated, and as the party struggles to heal her, Astarion blames himself for her pain.

~~~

Blood, smoke, and ash coat your throat as your breath heaves. The battle around you rages on, your companions facing off against the Banite chemists of Felogyr’s Fireworks. A stray firebolt had ignited the nearby smokepowder, setting off a chain reaction that shook the building and singed the very air. The blast hadn’t taken you down, nor had it eliminated all your foes.

The clashing of Lae’zel’s blades and Karlach’s war cry fills your ears. Hidden somewhere in the rubble, Astarion picks off enemies one by one with well timed sneak attacks. And you? You stand in the center of it all, ducking and dodging as two of the heavily armored Banites take turns swinging their weapons at you.

You retaliate as best as you can, but your strikes seem to bounce off their armor harmlessly. They advance on you, forcing you to back away, further from your friends. One, wielding a mace, raises his weapon to strike and catches your arm. The crushing weight of his blow has you scrambling backwards, taking your eyes off your foes for a brief moment to check behind you.

In that split second, an arrow flies over your head and burrows itself into the throat of the man who struck you. He chokes on his own blood for a moment, before crumbling to the ground. Dead.

As you face your remaining foe, you adjust your grip on your short sword to favor your injured arm and make a mental note to thank Astarion for having your back when this is over.

No longer on the defensive, you swing your sword upward, aiming for the Banite’s neck. He deflects with his longsword, before swiping down at your abdomen. His blade brushes against your leather armor before he reels back to swing again. Before he can bring his arms down, he freezes, wobbling on unsteady feet before joining his comrade on the floor, Karlach’s battle ax sticking out of his back.

She rushes over from where she’d thrown her weapon, the battle seemingly over, to pry it from the corpse before she stops in front of you.

“You alright, soldier?” her brows crease as she asks.

You gasp, still catching your breath as adrenaline courses through you, “Yeah. Thanks,” you respond with a grateful smile.

“You sure? That doesn’t look—“ she’s cut off as Astarion rushes over from behind you.

“Darling, where are you hurt?” his voice is rushed. He grabs your shoulders and turns you to face him, crimson eyes scanning your face for any sign of pain.

You smile at his concern, always looking out for you, “I’m fine, love. Are you alright?” you ask as you raise your hand to cup his cheek, your breath calming as the rush of battle fades. But Astarion does not look calm. His eyebrows are furrowed and his mouth is set in a grim frown as his eyes continue their search.

He ignores your question.

“Don’t be ridiculous, darling, I can smell it,” he casts his eyes downward, continuing his search. His eyes widen as they take you in, any color in his pale face drains. You follow his line of sight. You see it before you feel it. Blood.

At once, the adrenaline high you’d been riding vanishes. The leather of your armor, just over your abdomen has been shredded, blood oozes from beneath it, soaking your underclothes and dripping out onto the floor. You can only imagine what your flesh looks like beneath the mess. Your head spins and your vision blurs before the pain rushes to greet you, the force of it knocking your knees out from under you.

As you collapse, your three companions jump into action. Astarion, with wide eyes and frantic movements grabs you by the arms and gently lowers you to the floor, settling your head on his lap as he kneels beside you. Karlach digs through the pack, searching for anything that might help you as Lae’zel rushes to stabilize your wound.

You writhe in agony as she applies a cruel pressure to your stomach, gasping for air as Astarion reaches to hold your hand. You squeeze as the pain shoots through you, burning and searing hotter than any fire. His face hovers over yours, a blurry mess of white and red before you squeeze your eyes shut against the pain.

“Hey, hey. Focus on me, right here love,” he tries desperately to keep your attention as he brushes your hair away from your eyes. As if he can sense you nodding off, he looks up, “Karlach, we need a potion, a spell— something.”

She shuffles around behind him, practically dumping all of your supplies out before shouting, “We only have one, we need to get her back to camp.” She sounds panicked, passing Astarion the lone potion of healing.

He curses under his breath, turning back to you. You blink slowly, mumbling deliriously through your pain, “Sorry… Star, love you,” He shushes you as he lifts your head to pour the potion down your throat, tender in his panic. You swallow greedily, looking back up to him, focusing on his eyes. Those deep scarlet eyes which usually hold so much love are now filled with fear.

“Pretty,” you sigh, before darkness creeps along the edge of your vision and finally engulfs you.

…

Astarion is stunned for a moment.

“Tav?” he whispers, nudging your shoulder. When you don’t respond he turns around, shouting this time, “Karlach!”

“On it, Fangs,” she resolves, abandoning the pile of loot she’d scattered in her mad search for a healing potion. She kneels next to your immobile form, gently lifting you from under your knees and back, carefully positioning your head to rest on her shoulder.

Lae’zel backs away from your body, releasing the pressure she kept on your wound with a hiss, “Tsk’va! We must hurry, she’s lost too much blood.”

Astarion stares blankly at the puddle you’ve left behind– far too big for the amount of time you spent laying there as Karlach makes toward the stairs, disappearing around the corner. The only thing running through his mind is you. Your gasps of pain, your slowing heartbeat, the light in your eyes.

Before he can dive too deep into despair, Lae’zel is shaking him by the shoulders, “Snap out of it! You’re useless here, we must follow Karlach and get her back safely. Come!” she orders as she stands to leave. Her command awakens something within him, something accustomed to following orders. He stands, and dashes to catch up with Karlach and Lae’zel, both of whom had already made their way out to the city streets.

Karlach was jogging as quickly as she could without jostling you too much, and Lae’zel took a defensive position close behind her, ready to strike should someone dare to intercept them as they made their way to the Elfsong. He follows close behind, tears gathering in his eyes and blood rushing in his ears, and he realizes it’s your blood pumping through him.

He’d fed on you last night, and now you’d been hurt. Maybe if he had been able to control himself, if he wasn’t such a horrific, bloodsucking monster, you would have fought better, moved faster… This was his fault.

The only person he’d ever loved, on death’s door because of him. He didn’t notice when the tears began to fall, but once they started there was no stopping them. Lae’zel glanced over at him as the group passed the Baldur’s Mouth and cursed, “Chk! Astarion, run ahead. Tell Shadowheart to get ready. Now!”

Another command. He rushed ahead, almost instinctively, to obey, running as fast as his legs would carry him. When he finally climbed the stairs and burst through the doors he made a beeline for Shadowheart’s bunk. She was reading when he barged in on her. She glanced up, dropping the book when she took in his appearance: blood splattered on his hands and face, eyes wild, and panting from his sprint.

“Tav. Hurt,” he gasped, “No more potions.”

A steely expression overtook her features and she gave a curt nod, understanding what was needed. She led the way back to their common area as Lae’zel slammed the doors open, making way for Karlach to bring you in.

His breath hitched. You looked so fragile, so small in Karlach’s arms. The shaky rise and fall of your chest was his only comfort as he listened for your heartbeat. Slow, but still beating.

Karlach and Shadowheart kneel down, right there in the doorway to get to work, unwilling to waste precious moments moving you to a bed. The others gather nearby, worry marring their faces as they look on. As Shadowheart begins her healing incantations Gale places a gentle hand on Astarion’s shoulder.

“Come on, my friend. Staring won’t help her now. Why don’t you get cleaned up so you can care for her properly when she wakes?”

Astarion knows he is trying to distract him, trying to remove him from the situation should something go wrong, but he can’t find the energy to resist. He nods his head absentmindedly and allows Gale to lead him away.

…

It’s dark when you wake, and it takes a moment for you to assess your surroundings. Your head pounds, a splitting headache causing you to groan, the sound catching on your dry throat. Before you can sit up, a hand tightens its already-present grip on your own. You look to your side and see the disheveled form of your love.

“Star?” you croak, “What happened?” He swallows thickly, before taking a deep breath and moving his seat closer to your bedside.

“You almost died,” his voice breaks on the final word, you can hear the tears in his voice, but you wait for him to continue, “Bastard nearly split you open, it took everything Shadowheart had to keep you alive.” And you faintly feel what remains of the wound that nearly ended you. It’s a dull ache, nowhere near as debilitating as before.

Your breath catches, “Gods,” you whisper, “The others? Are they alright?”

He quells your rising panic before it can take root, “They’re fine, love. Don’t worry about them, worry about yourself for once. How do you feel?”

‘My head hurts…” you whisper. He lets go of your hand for a moment, turning in the dark to retrieve something. When he faces you again, his hand cradles the back of your neck as the other raises a glass of water to your lips.

“Drink darling, this will help.”

The water soothes your sore throat as it passes your lips. When you finish, Astarion sets the glass on your bedside table and takes your hand back into his own, “Shadowheart will be back in the morning once she’s recovered, and Gale is brewing more healing potions than we’ll ever need. This will never happen again.” His hand squeezes your own with his promise.

You nod at his declaration, as if the sheer power of his will could prevent you from falling wounded.

“How long have I been asleep?” you venture.

“Just a few hours,” he whispers, reaching to brush his hand over your forehead. Whether it was to clear any hair from your eyes or simply to touch you as much as possible– you couldn’t tell.

“Will you lay with me?”

“Darling, I thought you’d never ask,” he breathed, as if he was trying to cover his relief with that familiar self-assured persona, but couldn’t quite mask it. Carefully, he helped you shift over on the bed to make room for him. He crawled under the covers to join you, guiding you to rest your head on his chest. His arm wrapped firmly, yet gently, around your waist. You grasped at his shirt to ground yourself in the moment. You are here, you are safe.

His other hand came up to cover your own on his chest, thumb rubbing the back of your hand softly, and you sighed into him as you shuffled ever closer. His cool temperature soothed your lingering aches as your body heat sunk into him.

“I’m sorry I worried you,” you whispered into the dark. His hold around you tightened for but a moment at your admission.

“Don’t you dare apologize,” he hushed back, “I’m the one who should be sorry.”

“What do you mean?”

He took a deep breath, “I should have given you more cover fire, you were outnumbered. I shouldn’t have fed from you the night before a battle. I should have had a bloody potion to save you… It’s my fault you got hurt,” he confessed.

“Oh, my love,” you breathed, “It’s not your fault. It could never be your fault. It was just bad luck, please don’t do this to yourself,” you clutched his shirt as his breath hitched beneath you.

“Astarion listen to me,” your voice was stern, yet soft, “No one had healing supplies, it was not your responsibility alone. And I feed you because I love you and can’t stand the thought of you going hungry. It’s my decision, my choice, and my fault. Don’t you dare blame yourself for today.”

You felt him nod above you, silently agreeing with your conviction. He took a moment to compose himself, the day’s events overwhelming him at your insistent tone.

“I love you too,” he whispered, leaning down to plant a kiss on the crown of your head. You sighed in relief, melting into his embrace. “Now get some sleep darling, you’re much too assertive for the day you’ve had.”

You huff a soft laugh, glad to see a sliver of his charm shine through. But he’s right, your outburst did little to stave off the ache in your bones. You settle against Astarion, content to sleep in his hold, knowing that whatever the next day brings he will be right there beside you.

---

Author's Notes: So I've never actually published a fic before. I've been reblogging/lurking from this page for like two years. I've been writing since I was young, but I never finish anything. Who knows, maybe I'll keep going. Let me know what you thought (critique greatly appreciated) and if you made it this far thank you so much I hope you enjoyed!!! :)

#astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion x female reader #astarion x you #astarion angst #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #bg3 #bg3 astarion #bg3 fanfiction #cherry's writing #my work

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