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kurooh · 27 days ago

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❆ BABY, IT’S COLD OUTSIDE !

KINKMAS 2024 — holiday hatefucking + sukuna ryōmen

❆ desc. a record breaking blizzard blasts through your city, causing thousands of power outages & frozen pipes. what’re you & your sworn enemy of a roommate to do when it seems to last all night?

❆ warnings. 18+ content — mdni, fem! reader, hatefucking, some degradation, pussy slaps, orgasm control, arguing, resolving misunderstandings, facesitting, one bed trope. | 6.0k words

“just like everything else, this is all your fault!”

“really, princess? last i checked, i can’t control fucking climate change.”

sukuna’s always been testing your patience, pushing you closer and closer to the edge with daily arguments and snarky comments. you let out a peeved sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose in exasperation. “of course you’d refer to weather as climate change. if i were you, i’d at least mask my stupidity better.”

“tch,” he manages, wordlessly rolling his eyes as he lamely tries to think of a comeback. anger boils in his stomach and burns through his veins, hot as magma. “you’re calling me stupid when you’re the one who fell into the toilet a few days ago, at three in the morning.”

“yes, and that happened because my inconsiderate asshole of a roommate didn’t put the lid down!”

“you deserved it,” sukuna scoffs, dismissing you with a wave of his hand as he turns on his heel. “go take your toilet ass to bed. g’night.”

you’re fuming with anger, but there’s no point in saying anything now that he’s walking away with no intention to listen to you. sukuna’s footsteps disappear into the darkness of his room, and he slams the door behind him.

how insufferable.

living with sukuna ryōmen meant you could never catch a break. between his occasional apartment-trashing parties and stormy demeanor, there was zero chance to turn things around. the feuds had started not long after you first met, and surprisingly, the two of you had actually hit it off pretty well.

your first meeting took place on a street corner downtown, right in the middle of the college district. after a horrible date, you had found yourself waiting on the corner for your delayed uber when sukuna pulled up on his motorcycle, extending his hand. at the time, you didn’t question his kindness, wrapping your arms around him and talking his ear off about being a student. he dropped you off at your apartment and offered to help you sign a new lease, after you had confessed how hard it was living in a dorm with so many fees.

initially, living with sukuna went well. the sexual tension was at an all-time high, but the two of you were always too busy (or afraid?) to make a move on it, so you remained friends. it was when his friends came over for a party during an important study night for you that things changed for the worse. they had been lounging on the couch, drunk and talking way too loudly about you.

remembering the things they said about you still makes you grind your teeth as you stomp down the hallway, pausing at the darkened screen of the thermostat.

“sukuna!” you yell, reading the numbers. “the temperature’s dropping further!”

“. . it’s a power outage,” he calls back after a moment, his voice muffled by the door. “what do you expect?”

it’s pointless but it makes you feel better, so you raise your middle finger to his door before walking off to your room. your door swings open, and you slide off your slippers, preparing to get into bed and wait it out, but you’re met with the not so soft material of the bare mattress.

oh, that’s right.

not long ago, the tv had been glowing with endless reports of the incoming blizzard. it was supposed to hit the city full force in a few hours. expecting a power outage, you’d thrown all of your sheets and blankets into the wash so you’d sleep well during the night in a warm, clean bed. it was as if the blizzard had a personal score to settle—it barreled through the city and prepared to stay, leaving hundreds of people without power or functioning pipes due to the freeze.

now that your apartment has no electricity at all, your sheets and blankets are left soaking in the washing machine downstairs. instead of breaking down and screaming out of frustration, you manage to pull it together with a few deep breaths before marching over to sukuna’s room. it’s entirely sickening that you even have to ask him for something like this, but you put the thought out of your mind and raise your closed fist to the door.

sukuna’s ears twitch when he hears the thumping at his door, and he gets out of his bed to go investigate. he rubs the tiredness away from his eyes and opens the door to see you standing in front of him.

“what now? did you come to tell me it’s snowing outside?”

“no, i didn’t,” you grit out, wringing your hands together, “remember i put my all my bedding in to be washed?”

“remember when i told you not to?”

“yes, thank you!” you reply brightly, “they’re currently soaking in the washing machine and i have nowhere to sleep without getting a bad case of hypothermia.”

“hm. you could always try the couch and some paper towels from the kitchen,” he suggests dryly, pulling the door shut. stubbornly, you push your foot in the way to stop him. “woman,” he clicks his tongue disapprovingly, “if you think i won’t slam this door on your foot, you are sorely mistaken.”

it’s a risk you’ll have to take; you don’t budge an inch, looking up at him furiously. “just for tonight, i’m asking you to let me sleep in your bed.”

“i thought you hated me,” he hisses, “i could feel your little middle finger through the door.”

“i do, but if you had this problem, i’d actually help you, because i’m a good person!”

“keep telling yourself that,” sukuna rolls his eyes dramatically, letting his jaw go slack to mock your stupidity, “i would never have this kind of problem, because i’m not as dumb as you are.”

the wooden edge of the door starts to press into your slipper and a rush of panic strikes you square in the chest. your jaw tightens as hesitate, frustrated with the idea you have to convince him with. finally, your lips part, and the words tumble out sloppily, piling up into a debt you’ll be obligated to pay. “fine, fine . . . sometime i can make it up to you. i’ll even clean up the apartment after a party without any lip.”

sukuna crosses his arms, and the veins ripple beneath the skin with the movement. “oh, i hadn’t thought of that. i would love to see you clean the place without complaining as you usually do. although . . you did say anything.”

“yes, that’s right.”

where is he going with this?

his crimson eyes gleam with some kind of wolfish delight as he mulls over everything he could possibly impose on you. “perhaps i’ll save it and torment you while i think of something.”

“so, can i share the bed?” you urge, slipper tapping on the carpet impatiently.

sukuna offers a hand, and you can feel his black nails dig into your skin when you accept it. he moves out of the doorway at last, sticking out his foot and successfully making you stumble. you nearly faceplant into the carpet but manage to save yourself, biting your tongue even though all you want to do is shout at him.

sukuna simply gets into bed and tugs the blankets over his body, but he looks over at you in confusion when he notices you stacking a wall of pillows between your bodies.

“god, i am not that vile. i showered earlier and i washed my sheets yesterday,” he grouses, eyebrows pulling downwards in annoyance.

“i’m sure you did,” you assuage him dismissively, “i just wanna make sure we don’t touch once in the time that we sleep in this bed.”

sukuna fiddles with his silver lip piercings, tongue prodding into the backings impatiently while his fingers twist at the small spikes. “damn. are you done yet? goodnight.”

“goodnight.” you mutter, dropping down hard against the bed with your back facing his.

sukuna is what every daredevil wishes they could be. he is unique, with different piercings and dark, sharply lined tattoos that compliment his features naturally. all of his piercings had been acquired from bets or dares—he’d gotten his eyebrow done after his brother yuji beat him in a fight (he let him win because he wanted the piercing), his snake bites because he’d been dared (he did it himself with a hot needle and bent paperclips to keep the holes open since it was 1 am and all the jewelry stores were closed), and his ears when he won an eating contest (it was on yuji’s dime, so he got the most expensive jewelry too).

as you drift off, feeling warmer beneath all the blankets, you feel the tension leaving your body. for tonight, you’ll let go of your anger towards him and enjoy the pleasant moment and his rare generosity.

your eyes blearily open to the soft rays of morning sunlight shining through the gaps between the curtains, illuminating the dust in their thin columns over the bed. you let out a yawn, snuggling further into the soft pillows you’d set up the night before—but then your heart jumps into your throat and heat sears its away across your face when you register the warm body nestled against yours.

the position is so natural that it’s as if you slept like this for hours; it’s abhorrent, seeing sukuna sleeping like a baby, his breaths nothing more than quiet huffs into your neck. as the vestiges of sleep start to fade away, you’re all too aware of the sculpted muscle pressing firmly against your body. at some point, sukuna decided to take off his shirt, as evidenced by his bare chest against you.

outside, the sky looks to be a little cloudy, and the branches of bare trees are weighed down with layers of snow. looks like the blizzard came to a stop sometime in the middle of the night.

sukuna’s hand squeezes your side lightly, and he lets out a soft groan, tugging you closer. “ew, what the hell!?” you jerk back immediately, heart pounding wildly in your chest like a caged bird. an uncomfortable heat settles over you as the reality of the situation fully sinks in. he’s still asleep, fumbling around to grip onto you. your breath catches in your throat with each of his confused movements, and the warmth of his strong body leaves you dazed for a moment before you consider how wrong this feels. he firmly grabs ahold of your ass to pull you in, and you gasp, slapping his arm as hard as you can.

“what the fuck do you think you’re doing?!”

he grunts out a curse, letting go of you and blinking awake slowly. his once relaxed face quickly shifts into one of annoyance, and he fixes you with a displeased glare.

“what’s your problem now, woman?”

“you were cuddling me, man.”

sukuna rolls his eyes so hard you wonder if they’ll ever return to their original place.

“to wake me up over something that trivial is ridiculous. it was a cold night and likely happened by accident.”

“no, sukuna!” you protest, hips swiveling as you push yourself into a sitting position. he hisses, jaw clenching firmly; the words die in your throat when you realize the problem—rather, his problem.

“wipe that fucking look off your face,” he snaps automatically. “ever heard of morning wood?”

“excuse me? you were all over—”

immediately, sukuna claps a hand over your mouth, his palm feeling hot against the lower half of your face. your words are muffled, but he knows you’re swearing and protesting at him—the way your eyebrows angrily move tells him enough.

eventually, you go still, opting to lick his skin. he recoils in disgust, wiping his sticky palm on your shirt to get it off. “you’re nasty, woman.”

“that’s not what you were thinking when you were wrapped around me like a koala five minutes ago.”

he doesn’t even know what to say. anger and something more bubbles up fast, scorching through his body before it finally exits through his mouth. “shut the fuck up. you started it last night, pulling me in and shit.”

“me?” you burst out incredulously, eyebrows furrowing as you lean forward, your stare burning holes the size of bullets into his face. “you’re the one who’s embarrassed for having enjoyed it, if your face is any indicator. you know how much i hate you, i’d never—”

you’re too close. beneath the blankets and sheets, your lower body thrashes while you speak, hips knocking into his a few times. each touch has his cock growing harder, throbbing painfully beneath his boxers and pajama pants.

“god, if you’d just stop touching me!” he barks, cheeks ultra hot now. sukuna’s lips pull into a scowl and he glares at you, annoyed with your sudden cluelessness.

“what is your problem now?!”

“it’s you,” he shouts, throwing off the blanket and startling you. “it’s always been you. since we moved in, since the blizzard, since i even agreed to sharing a bed with you! you’re always—” sukuna’s voice splinters and he swallows, pushing forward, leaving mere inches between your faces. “fuck. you’re always driving me insane.”

“back off,” you hiss, voice trembling. a crackling tension hangs in the air between you, heavy with unspoken words and growing anticipation.

“make me.”

“you’re really asking for it, aren’t you, sukuna?”

his lips curl into a wolfish smile and his eyes gleam with a similar intensity, anger blending with something more carnal. “maybe you can show me how much you love to hate me, princess.”

the demeaning nickname falls from his lips easily, as it always does, and you’re determined to make him choke on it.

“don’t you ever shut up?” your nose crinkles at the puffs of breath that brush over your lips. one of sukuna’s eyebrows quirks upward challengingly—your voice no longer has the bite it usually does.

“i only would if you let me use my mouth another way.”

your heart hammers in your chest, and anger still rushes through every inch of your body, but it’s much hotter now, leaving your skin sweltering beneath your clothes. giving in to sukuna ryōmen is a mistake—he’s your insufferable roommate who regularly makes your fists clench with anger, but he’s also the object of your deepest desires.

you’re too far in to back away now.

“go ahead,” you pause to let out a breath. “right now, i’m all yours.”

when you finally lean in to close the distance, your lips collide in a kiss that’s equal parts animosity and desire. it isn’t gentle, and it isn’t soft—it’s raw and furious, so overwhelming he loses himself and pulls you in, black nails digging crescents into your skin. in a manner that’s just as forceful, your hand finds its way to the nape of his neck and yanks him in, causing your teeth to click together sharply. the hungry kiss deepens, and his tongue slips into your mouth, stroking against your own. the deep-seated anger and tension that had been piling on top of each other is finally dissolving into something far worse—something so intoxicating you begin to wonder how you were living without it.

sukuna pulls back breathlessly, unable to look anywhere but your face. a small, glossy string of saliva connects your lips together, a sign of an encouragement to test the waters and continue. surely a heated makeout session would lead you to a crossroads, where you’d be left wondering how much further this could go, with only each other to figure it out.

sukuna coughs out a rueful laugh. “it’s funny, isn’t it?"

“what is it?” you demand, lips tingly from the kiss.

“i find it amusing this took so long to happen. of course, it was bound to eventually.”

“well, it’s only because you can’t keep it in your pants, sukuna.”

“and you can’t keep yours on,” he retorts, hooking his fingers into the flimsy waistband of your pajama pants before sliding them off your legs. now, only a thin layer of fabric hides the place he wants to see most. effectively silenced and now matching his black underwear, you take him in, eyes sweeping over his features. beneath his black tattoos, his skin flushes red, all the way up to the tips of his ears; his mouth is slick and shiny with a mixture of your spit and his own, and the silver spikes beneath his lip gleam temptingly.

“what’s wrong?” he questions expectantly, fingers curling around your chin with surprising force and tugging you forward. “cat got your tongue?”

“maybe i’m just waiting for the right moment to pounce,” you push forward stubbornly, forcing him onto his back so you can straddle him. you silence anything he would’ve said with another kiss, and sukuna’s hands travel from your hips to your ass. he gifts it with a squeeze and a pleasured groan slips out against your lips before he slides his fingers into your underwear.

the rough pads of his fingertips stroke over the skin of your ass while you suck on his tongue impatiently, hips occasionally rolling against his own. to add to each movement of your hips, you tease him a little more, using your teeth to lightly tug at the jewelry of his lip piercings. each moment of friction is something between solace and torture for his cock—it’s adequate, but it’s not enough and he’s dying for more.

you smile against his lips, sneaking a hand between your bodies to play with his cock. it’s an experimental gesture to test the waters, see how he reacts; the moment your fingers come into contact with his thick bulge, he groans, leaning up. one squeeze has him rushing to sit up so quickly his forehead knocks into yours. ordinarily, sukuna would’ve made a scathing comment, but he doesn’t have much to say when he grabs ahold of your wrist and pushes it into his boxers.

it’s a decision that further stokes the long burning fire that’s been ablaze beneath all the arguments and unbearable conversations; it’s something that has it roaring into an all consuming inferno.

“fuck,” sukuna chokes out, nipples hard against your loose shirt while he rests his hands on your ass. “you’re making me fucking crazy.”

you ignore him, rolling your eyes dismissively at his heavy panting and clenching abs. instead, you focus on lavishing his neck with attention in the form of wet kisses along the skin. he shudders a little as your tongue darts out to wet his skin before he eventually decides he’s had enough and cages you in his arms. you’re startled when you’re caught in something akin to an alligator death roll, opening your eyes to see that you’re pinned down beneath him.

“then do something about it,” you suggest, legs spreading without him having to ask.

sukuna groans deeply, his head spinning at the sight of you being this vulnerable in front of him. “take off that shirt now.”

the demand strikes you hard, his voice reverberating to your core. while you busy yourself with doing as he asked, sukuna kicks the pillows and blankets off the bed before positioning himself on his stomach. now, he’s eye level with your thinly covered pussy. he hasn’t seen it yet, but it’s sure to be everything he’s dreamed of. saliva pools on his tongue while impatience propels him forward, and he skates his fingers along your thighs, taking in the softness of your skin.

it’s not enough to simply touch you.

no, sukuna needs to smell you, taste you, feel you, devour you.

he intends to do so.

“what’re you—?” your voice trembles as you look downwards, nipples hardening at the sensual sight. sukuna’s nose is pressed to your thigh, and he’s breathing in with every inch upwards. you had expected something faster, more filthy, but sukuna’s behaving like he’s absolutely been dying for this.

the dull spikes of his lip piercings press into your plush skin and over a small area of your panties when he finally makes it to your hip. wordlessly, he slips his hands under your ass and raises you up while he takes a bit of your panties between his teeth. slowly, they slide down your legs.

a sweltering heat surges up your neck and to your face while another pools in your tummy like magma beneath a volcano. you writhe on the bed eagerly, too excited to have your panties finally out of the way. those fervent crimson eyes stare at your pussy and watch it flutter around nothing before flickering up to yours.

“don’t blame me if you can’t walk later.”

your face drops in annoyance. “why do you always have to ruin good moments?”

“a warning is hardly enough to ruin this.”

“but—”

a harsh, smarting slap to your pussy has you cutting yourself off with a pitched cry of delight that bounces off the walls and into sukuna’s long term memory. he raises an eyebrow, watching you closely as your legs settle and you return to your spread position.

“you liked it, didn’t you?”

“liked? it hurt.”

“i wouldn’t put it past you,” he says, eyeing your dripping, clenching cunt. “i’ll just do it again.”

you roll your eyes, bucking toward him impatiently. you want him inside you, and he’s hung up on moving slow to torture you.

“whatever. just fuck me alr—”

“ah ah,” he admonishes you with a slap that’s much rougher and directed to your clit. against the mattress, his cock swells with arousal. “i intend to fuck you my way. if you have a problem with that, i’d love to see you fight to be on top.”

tears gather in your eyes, threatening to spill over and cascade down your cheeks. desperation and unbridled need easily shifts to frustration and anger that has you spitting, “i hate you.”

“don’t be like that. you’re soaking wet,” he points out with a self assured smirk. sukuna spreads your thighs impossibly wider and leans in, letting the tip of his nose graze your clit. the featherlight touch makes your skin prickle all over.

to be honest, you didn’t expect the events of last night to lead you here in the morning. in fact, you assumed you’d wake up on your respective sides of the bed and argue a little about snoring before departing. since most of your interactions usually go that route, this entire situation is shocking—but a small part of you is extremely thankful it’s finally happening.

there had been days so tense you’d considered sex as a solution, but never brought it up.

“s-sukuna!” you moan helplessly, grabbing at the sheets and twisting them beneath your fingers. with his teeth, he playfully nibbles at your folds, savoring the sudden catch of breath in your throat and whimpery cries. your quivering legs settle over his shoulders, and he appreciates the change, utilizing the new angle to pull you closer.

that sharp tongue of his can certainly do more than hurl creative insults all day long—it’s killer, and entirely hypnotic as he sloppily mouths at your cunt. wet slurps and lewd smacks of his lips have you shuddering, eyes rolling back into your skull.

“‘kuna,” you whine, long and drawn out, “don’t stop, d-don’t fuckin’ stop.”

he pushes his thumb into your clit and looks up, lips shiny with your bittersweet slick. “what did you just call me?”

“sukuna,” you lie nervously, trembling beneath his touch and craving more.

“now, girl,” he scoffs, and the new nickname doesn’t sound as demeaning as the usuals. “that isn’t what you said. go ahead and say it again for me.”

you look him in the eyes, feeling small beneath his heavy gaze. “‘kuna. that’s what i said.”

sukuna offers a gratified hum before returning to your sloppy pussy. a glob of spit sparkles in the morning light as it slips down your hole, making more of a mess. “keep calling me that, i like it.”

white hot euphoria zips through sukuna’s nerves as he dines on the wet dessert your pussy is. it’s the best breakfast he could’ve ever had—sweet as sugar and made even better with your decadent moans spurring him on. oh, the way you shakily card your hands through his hair and let your nails scratch over his scalp . . each electrifying touch shoots straight to his cock, and he discreetly ruts into the matress.

his tongue dips between your folds and he groans against you, eyes rolling back when you squeeze down on him like a vice. the once cold room is hot, your bodies feeling feverish from your own shared heat—if you were outside, you’d have melted the snow into puddles.

sukuna has always had an abnormally long tongue. he ponders your reaction to him pushing deeper, but the fluttering of your walls leaves no room for second thoughts.

“sukuna, holy fuck,” you sob, a tear or two running down the bridge of your nose. “y-your tongue, it’s so big—w-wait, wait a second.”

it’s painful to lose the fullness of his tongue, but you pull back and cup his face in your hands, looking down at him with a desperate look he won’t be able to refuse. “can . . can i ride your face, ‘kuna?”

you’re so cute with that little pout and those glossy eyes begging for more. sukuna smiles meanly, the lower half of his face dripping with your essence while his teeth gleam sharply.

“you liked my tongue that much, huh?” you nod, looking a little dazed as he gets onto his back. he helps you swing a leg over him, but before you sit down, his hand lands hard against your ass. “shit, you’re such a dirty girl. jus’ begging for me to get you off, aren’t cha? show me how much you fucking want it.”

you whimper, gasping out some kind of affirmative answer. sukuna tenses his tongue and sticks it upwards, then tugs you down impatiently.

“shit!” you squeal, startled by how fucking long his tongue is. it fills you up almost entirely, probably an inch and a half short of your cervix. whiny ooh’s and ah’s fall from your lips as you unsteadily rut your hips into his face, grinding your clit hard into his nose. “sukuna, ‘m close, you’re gonna make me cum . . ”

“you’re gonna make yourself cum, girl. ‘s all you.”

his voice is muffled, but you can somewhat hear him over the lewd squelches and noisy moans that fill the room. despite it all, he’s got stars in his eyes as he watches you ride his tongue to oblivion—stringy drool slips past your lips and your tits bounce deliciously while your face crumbles in euphoria.

“oh my god,” you weep, voice breaking, “‘m gonna cum on your fuckin’ tongue—”

one blissful tremor is the precursor to so many more. your jaw becomes slack and tears run down your face as you finally reach your high.

“‘kuna, ‘m cumming!”

the stifling tightness in your tummy finally snaps and leaves you a convulsing mess on his tongue, shaking so hard your teeth inevitably begin to chatter. sukuna smacks his lips, almost entirely satisfied—but then he roughly lifts you and sits you down on his chest.

you’ve got hearts in your eyes and you’re obviously drunk on him, ready for more.

“clean it up,” he demands, tilting his head to the side. without question, you lean forward and kiss him, tasting yourself with a moan. a groan rumbles deep in his chest when you pull back and start to sloppily lick at his cheek, tongue running over his tattoos. “good girl.”

“sukuna, i need—i want . . ” you flounder breathlessly, unsure of how to ask him.

he slaps your ass, scarlet eyes darkening lustfully. sukuna clicks his tongue, egging you on. “beg for it.”

“beg?” you ask incredulously, grinding your cunt into his abs. “i hate begging.”

“then you don’t get what you want, simple as that.”

“but—”

“no buts, girl.”

“f-fine,” you cede, afraid of being left unsatisfied, “please, i need your cock inside me . . i need you to fuck me hard.”

“there she is,” sukuna coos, flipping you over and reversing your positions so he’s above you, “my nasty slut. you’re all mine, aren’t you?”

you nod weakly, which has him flipping you onto your stomach and huskily growling into your ear. “fucking say it, princess.”

“all yours,” you slur your words, limply letting him maneuver your body.

“on your knees,” he pauses to gather your wrists together behind your back, pulling you toward him. “that’s right.”

with his free hand, sukuna tugs his boxers down so quickly the fabric audibly tears, and he tosses them over his shoulder.

the room is a disaster. blankets and sheets hang off the foot of his bed while pillows litter the carpeted floor in every direction. not to mention the discarded pajamas and underwear scattered around as well, evidence of the storm between yourself and your roommate.

your cunt is throbbing by the time he guides the tip of his spit slicked cock between your folds. it’s bulbous and fucking huge as it presses into you, slow and deep. sukuna tosses his head back with a loud groan when his cock bottoms out, pulsing against your cervix.

“loosen up, girl,” he grunts, your sticky walls bearing down hard around his cock, “can’t fucking move.”

“w-wait,” you whimper, nearly falling forward. your jaw hangs open loosely as you try to fathom the stretch and fullness his cock imposes. “‘kuna, you’re too big, i can’t—”

“please, this sloppy pussy was made for me,” he huffs, drawing his hips back and leaving merely the tip of his cock inside of you. “jus’ take it. you can and you will.”

he says nothing else before shoving forward, plunging his cock as deep as it can go inside you. it thickly pushes past rings of muscle and stretches you open, filling your ears with wet squelches. he sets a ruthless rhythm into place, focusing on taking your ability to walk tomorrow. tears pathetically pour down your cheeks and fall from your jaw to the damp sheets below, and you no longer can control all the noise you’re making. babbled cries of yes! and inaudible moans fall from your bitten lips, all of it spurring sukuna on.

“hah, shit,” he rasps, unable to tear his eyes away from where you’re connected—his cock slides in and out of your creamy pussy rapidly, the smacks of skin against skin sounding like an applause. “b-been waiting for this, goddamn.”

“i thought you hated me,” you wail desperately, feeling each thrust of his cock in your lungs. whenever the tip roughly kisses your cervix, your cunt squeezes around him while you cry out something incomprehensible.

sukuna pushes his tongue into his cheek, digging his black nails into your wrists tightly. “you were the one who hated me the whole time.”

“i-i didn’t!” you protest weakly, struggling to recall what you were just about to say. “it was you who started it—with your friends!”

“what’d we do?” he groans, pushing his free hand through his hair to remove the strands sticking to his sweaty forehead.

“uh, you—right there!—you were . . ”

“did i already fuck you dumb, girl?” sukuna snarks, his palm coming down hard across your ass. “can’t even remember, hm? perhaps if you weren’t so busy slutting yourself out for me you’d have something to fuckin’ say.”

his words are bitter, but they manage to help you recall your memory. “you were talking shit about me, a-and you threw that party the night before a big test i had—shit, ‘m gonna cum!”

“ah ah,” he snaps, voice edged with something domineering and dangerous. you’re pulled back by your numb wrists, and sukuna leans forward to speak directly into your ear: “you don’t get to cum until i fuckin’ tell you to. now, girl—finish that story for me.”

a miserable sob tears past your lips, “sukuna, i-i can’t, ‘m gonna cum right now—”

your wrists are released, making you fall forward into the mattress. your head can’t stop spinning and you’re in no state to catch yourself, so instead you accept the new position mutely.

the palm of sukuna’s hand presses into the crown of your head and his nails dig into your scalp while his warm breath fans against the shell of your ear. “don’t you fucking dare,” he hisses arbitrarily. “i said to finish the story.”

“i-i heard them saying horrible things about me!” you babble gaspingly, “i think you went along with it . . i didn’t hear you telling them to stop.”

“so that’s why you hated me?”

“yes! god, but i didn’t really—i wanted to talk about it s-sometime, but not right now!”

he chuckles ruefully, letting your head go. “now, girl. if i’d known something so stupid was the reason you’ve supposedly hated me, i would’ve taken care of it much sooner.”

you cry into the sheets, feeling the telltale throb of his thick cock deep inside you. “please—please lemme cum!” the words slur together, making you sound truly cock drunk.

“alright, princess,” sukuna hisses, teeth sinking into his lower lip, “go ‘head and let it allll out. cum all over this fucking cock, lemme feel it.”

stars flicker across your vision, and you cum with a broken cry that tears from your throat almost painfully. your gummy walls grip him like a vice, sucking the cum out of his cock. with a drawn out groan, he finally cums, collapsing on top of you and panting into your shoulder.

as you come down together, high pitched beeps fill the house. the microwave and oven come back to life, and the lights in every room snap on as the power is restored at last.

“goddamn,” he huffs, pulling you into a sideways spooning position without letting his cock slip out of you.

“tired?” you ask hoarsely, tired eyes running over his sweaty, flushed face. “clearly, that took a lot out of you.”

“me?” sukuna barks in offense. “look at you, you’re the one covered in tears.”

you pull out of his arms, whimpering breathily as his cock slides out of your pulsing cunt. the base of it is covered in creamy rings while the rest of his length shines wetly. sukuna spreads your trembling thighs and groans loudly at the sight—frothy globs of cum spill from your weeping hole, which clenches around nothing hungrily.

truthfully, sukuna would never be able to rid himself of the memory of your cunt swallowing his cock eagerly. the slip and slide paired with the immense heat had nearly made him cum on the spot . .

sukuna’s chest heaves with each breath as he lolls his head to the side to observe you. “for the record, i’m no longer friends with those vile people. cut it off right after they came into my home and started talking shit about you.”

embarrassment crashes over you like a wave. “wait, you never told me about that!”

“you stopped talking to me and decided to be argumentative all the goddamn time.”

you roll your eyes, looking off the bed awkwardly. a few pillows are scattered on your side, and you reach over to pick them up, tossing them to the foot of the bed.

“anyway, how did my pillow wall get destroyed?”

“don’t get upset.”

“what did you do?” you question him accusingly, narrowing your eyes at him.

“after you fell asleep, i moved two of them.”

“i used six different pillows!”

he dismisses you with a wave of his hand, smirking at the frustrated shock that takes over your features. “i thought it’d help me figure out what your problem was in the morning. obviously, it did.”

you snatch a pillow and hit him right in the face with it, savoring the moment of justice like high quality chocolate. “there. that’s what you get.”

sukuna rips the pillow from your hands and hurls it across the room, turning over to you with a wicked smile playing on his lips.

“you were saying?”

#kurooh #kinkmas #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk imagines #jjk fanfic #smut #sukuna x you #sukuna smut #sukuna x reader #sukuna ryoumen x reader

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amathslutsguidetofandom · 2 months ago

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"I'm Taking That As A Yes, Princess"

PAIRINGS: Ghostface!FratPresident!James "Bucky" Barnes x Reader

WARNINGS: Getting alcohol spilt on you, fingering, a bit angsty? (if you squint), semi-bathroom sex, swering, unprotected sex (darlings, please wrap your man's pig in a blanket), p in v, mentions of cum, handjob, a slight hint of a blowjob and slight fluff? (If I have missed anything, please feel free to let me know 😊)

WORD COUNT: 2,922

*not proof-read*

ENJOY!

Walking into the house, you were immediately surrounded by sweaty, sticky bodies. You grimaced at the overwhelming feeling and tried to find a space where you could catch your breath. The kitchen was relatively empty, except for a couple making out on the counter. You decided to mind your own business, reaching into the fridge and navigating past cans and bottles of beer to grab a water bottle hidden at the back.

You twisted the cap off and took a long sip. Everyone was dressed up differently, which made sense—it was Halloween. Instead of babysitting your little cousins, you’d faked being sick to your parents, dressed up, and come to the Alpha Phi house. This wasn’t like you at all. The top student in your class, the teacher’s pet, the early-assignment submitter, the girl who became a TA in her junior year—you were the “good girl.”

So why were you here? Because you’d overheard some girls talking about the infamous Halloween party that the Alpha Phi guys threw every year. And you weren’t the type who usually went to parties. So why this one? Because you’d heard that Steve Rogers was going to show up, and you had a little crush on the star player of the varsity ice hockey team. You’d been trying to muster the courage to talk to him ever since you sat next to him in a lab in your first year. That was two years ago, and you’d been harbouring feelings for him ever since.

Your heart did a little flip every time he smiled at you when you passed him in the halls. Finishing your water, you threw the bottle in the recycling bin and tugged your tutu down to avoid a wedgie. The ballerina costume was a last-minute, twenty-dollar buy, but you were happy with it—the corseted top accentuated your chest, and though the sheer tights were a bit snug, it didn’t bother you too much.

You were making your way through the crowd and spotted a tuft of blond hair. Your heart flipped again. This was it, the perfect moment. You were going to ask Steve if he wanted to go out sometime. He was tipsy enough to say yes, and if he said no, he’d be too focused on his hangover tomorrow to remember your question. You took a deep breath and started toward him.

Then you saw them. You’d thought the rumours weren’t true, that they couldn’t be real. But the sight of Steve Rogers making out with Peggy Carter would be forever etched in your mind, because the pain in your heart was unbearable. You stood frozen, your heart thudding in your chest as you watched Steve's hands roam over Peggy’s body. You clenched your jaw and sniffled, rooted to the spot.

You only snapped out of it when someone spilled their drink on you. “Damn, sorry, gorgeous,” a guy dressed as Fred from Scooby-Doo winked at you drunkenly before chuckling and moving away. You shook your head, trying to clean the alcohol off your costume.

“Hey, buddy. I think you owe the girl a real apology,” another voice piped up. You looked up to see a towering figure dressed as Ghostface, holding Fred by the shoulder. “Now, say you’re sorry—like you really mean it, and none of that half-assed stuff because you’re shitfaced,” Ghostface ordered, crossing his arms. Fred straightened up, looked you in the eye, and apologized sincerely. Ghostface nodded approvingly and sent him away.

Before you realized it, Ghostface had moved closer to you. You turned to see him looking you over, his mask bobbing as if inspecting your costume. He clicked his tongue and put a hand on the small of your back. “C’mon, let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?”

You both walked upstairs, where the sounds of the party gradually faded, and you were grateful for the quiet. You hesitated when he opened a door and gestured for you to go in.

For the first time that night, you spoke up. “Um, I’m sorry, but I don’t even know who you are.”

The chuckle that followed freaked you out a little, but then he reached up to remove the mask.

James. Freaking. Barnes.

You tried your best to mask your surprise, but you were sure he saw it, because the corners of his lips lifted into a smirk.

James “Bucky” Barnes—the captain of the varsity ice hockey team, a good student, a charmer, the president of Alpha Phi, and most importantly, the best friend of Steve Rogers.

You’ve met James a few times here and there. During some of the varsity games. And passed him in the dorms sometimes. He never caused you any trouble. He even offered to help you move-in in your second year when he clearly saw you struggle push your luggage up the stairs.

You were just acquaintances.

You swallowed and timidly walked into the pristine room, surprised by its immaculate condition. “I certainly didn’t expect a frat president to have such a clean room,” you muttered, hearing James laugh at your comment as he closed the door.

“Well, I don’t work well in a messy environment,” he shrugged and walked closer, his gaze trailing over your corset. You backed up slightly at the intensity of his approach, making him huff a laugh. “I don’t bite, princess,” he said, his fingers grazing the edge of your corset.

He gently guided you to the adjoining bathroom. “I’ll have to wash it out a bit. So, if you don’t mind getting your tutu a little damp, princess…,” he led, waiting for your response. You shook your head, signalling it was fine. He nodded toward the counter, and you hopped onto it.

He wetted a towel and began dabbing it on your clothes. “So, what’s a timid thing like you doing at a fraternity party?” he whispered, his focus on cleaning up the stain. You glanced at his concentrated face before looking away. “What? Can’t a girl come to a party?” you replied, defensively, for some reason.

James chuckled, “Oh, a girl can come to a party. But you, you’re not that type of girl, princess.” You raised an eyebrow at him, puzzled by his statement. “I mean, you never come to parties in general. So why the sudden appearance?” He sighed and caged you between his arms.

You tensed, starting to stammer. “Well, I wanted to see someone,” you shrugged, looking down at your hands.

“Yeah?” James asked, his gaze piercing. “Who was the special guy?”

You looked up at him through your lashes, then quickly looked away. He used two fingers to tilt your face toward him. “Eyes on me, princess,” he said softly.

“Steve. I came to ask Steve out…,” you admitted, spilling your secret.

James looked at you with you look, you couldn’t decipher what it was. But you didn’t know what to feel about it. He looked into your eyes for so long, you started to tear up due to the lack of blinking.

“Steve…,” he dragged it, and it made you wonder why. But you didn’t question it.

He continued to dab the wet cloth to your clothes. “You didn’t have to do that you know… The, um, asking the guy to apologize to me,” you broke the silence, because you couldn’t take the stuffy air that was in between the both of you.

James shook his head and chuckled as he dabbed on your neckline. “If I didn’t my Ma would scold my ear off if she knew. And, besides, a pretty girl needs to be treated right.”

You’re breathing stops at that, and you looked up at him with a confused look. He smirked at your expression, “what?” You shook you head and asked him, “you think I’m pretty?”

James scoffed and nodded, “I would have to be blind if I didn’t think your stunning, princess.”

You didn’t realise but your lips and James’ were a hair breadths away. “James…,” you tried to start but James beat you to it, “Bucky, princess. Call me Bucky.”

You gulped and nodded.

“Bucky.”

He groaned at they way his named sounded on your tongue. “Princess, your killin’ me here,” he whispered more to himself than at you. His knuckles gripped onto the counter tight. “Please…,” he muttered.

“Pardon?” you didn’t catch what he said.

“Please let me kiss you.”

You froze, you didn’t know what to do.

You always thought Bucky was hot. Hotter than Steve, but you never had any classes with him to fully judge him. You were a hundred percent sure that if Bucky was your lab partner instead of Steve, you’d totally be crushing on Bucky instead.

And if that were the case, you’d be nodding your head like a mad man. Steve was taken, you were still recovering from that. Bucky, apparently, liked you. Liked you more than you thought he did.

You saw the way his gaze flickered from your eyes to you lips and back to your eyes. Your tongue darted out to wet your lips, and saw his pupils dilate at the movement.

“I-,” you started but your thoughts were washed away when you saw Bucky lick his lips too. You heart thuds in your chest as you feel like the whole world is dark and the spotlight is just on you with the way Bucky looks like you. There’s a small part of you that wanted to feel how his lips would feel against you.

So, you nodded.

Before you knew it, Bucky was standing between your legs and gripping your hips. He then pulled you close and smashed his lips on yours. You took a second to understand what was going on, but when your conscious did come back to you cupped his face and kissed him back.

He licked at your bottom lip asking your permission to open up your mouth and you allowed it immediately. Soon your tongues were dancing together, yours was meek and shy letting Bucky do all the taking over. You wrapped your arms around his neck and whimpers against his mouth, which just made him groan against you.

He moved his lips from your mouth to your jaw, then to your neck. You tilted your head to give him more access, and the more you let him the more your whimpers turn to moans.

He moves his hands all over your body, “this okay, princess?” He whispered against your skin, and you nodded fervently and grasped at his black cloak. You felt him palm at your chest, and you sighed and whispered a, “more, Bucky, please.” He nodded against your skin and moved his hands up your thighs and squeezes the flesh of your thighs.

You felt the heat pool between your things and squeezed them together. Bucky smirked and pushed them away, “nuh uh, none o’ that.” He got closer to you, and you wrapped your legs around his hips and chuckled. His hands moved to your inner thighs, and you gasped out, the wetness pooling more into your underwear.

You felt his knuckles brushed against your core and you whimpered and dropped your head against his shoulder. “Please, Bucky,” you muttered against his costume. Without any other word he ripped your tights at the centre and felt the wet path of white cotton.

“Oh princess, so wet f’me already?” Bucky snickered and you nodded at his question. He rubbed his knuckles against your cunt’s lips and pressed his fingers harder when he heard your soft mewl. “You like it don’t you, princess?” To which you nodded again and whispered his name breathlessly.

He pushed your underwear aside and sunk his thick fingers in, and you whined at the intrusion. The sweet stretch felt better than your own meek fingers and soon Bucky was pumping his fingers in and out making your legs shake. “I’m not even rubbing your clit, princess. Your legs are already shaking,” he whispered roughly against your ear.

His thumb started to rub at your clit and that’s when you lost your mind. You mewled and moaned his name as his fingers were rubbing that deep spot in you and his thumb playing with your button has you becoming a wailing mess. He bends down and started to attack your neck. “Fuck, Bucky. Please,” you cried out as you feel your impending orgasm start to build at your core.

Bucky roughly rubbed at your clit and within seconds your gushed around his fingers. You sighed and untensed your shoulders. Bucky brought his fingers to his mouth, closed his eyes and licked them clean. You whimpered at the sight.

You both leaned in and captured the other in a deep kiss, Bucky picked you up like you weighed nothing and exited the bathroom and walked until he placed you down on his bed.

He pulled the Ghostface mask down and leaned to tower over you. You bit your lip, and he chuckled, “didn’t know princess was a bit freaky, hmm?” He unbuckled his belt under the cloak, and you took off your tutu and tossed it somewhere in his room.

When he managed to get his cock out of his pants, your eyes widened as the sheer size of him and then looked at him to see the small smirk that was painted on his lips. “Something wrong, princess?” You gulped and said, “it’s not gonna fit.”

Bucky chuckled and leaned over you once more and whispered into your ear, “we’ll make it fit, princess.” The tone he used made you shiver, and you gripped onto his shoulders and readied yourself. Bucky ran his shaft up and down you’re sit and you whined desperately.

“Bucky, please. I need you,” you squeezed your eyes shut and threw your head back. He tapped your cheek with two fingers and said, “eyes on me, princess.” And with that Bucky slowly pushed inside you. The stretch was so deliciously sweet and painful it made you lose your mind. You both gasped at the feeling of him moving further into you.

“Fuck, princess. You’re so tight,” he grits out as he starts to slowly thrust in and out of you. Your legs wrapped tightly around his waist and your nails raked down his back and he let out a deep moan which made goosebumps raise on your skin.

The sound of skin slapping on skin wasn’t’ as loud as your wails of Bucky’s name and moans. When the tip of him tapped against that spot in you, your eyes rolled to the back of your mind and you squealed, “Bucky right there, oh! Right there!”

Bucky grabbed a hold of the headboard and thrusted harder into you, aiming at that same spot and you felt tears run down the side of face in pleasure. “Fuck, princess. Gripping me like a vice,” he purses his lips as he knocked his hips against yours.

You felt the sheer length of him move in and out of you, your walls embraced him like he was meant to be there in the first place. “Attagirl. Take what I give you, yeah?” He huffed against your ear. The coarse patch of pubic hair that rested at the bottom of his happy trail, rubbed against your clit giving your that nice friction and it made you whine even more.

He pressed a hand against your abdomen and pressed down harder and it made the feeling even better. He saw how you reacted and pressed down harder, and you arched your back at the feeling. With that you felt the climax in you start to rise, “Bucky, I’m so close.” You whimpered as you watched the man wearing the Ghostface mask rut into you expertly.

He threw your legs over his shoulders and rutted into your harder, the band at your core bends and bends until it finally snapped and soon you were coming around Bucky’s cock.

Bucky groaned deeply at you squeezing him tightly, he pulled out and you whined at the loss of the feeling. He was fisting his length at the sight of you post orgasmic bliss and it looked so hot from your perspective. You quickly got on your knees and replaced Bucky’s hand with yours. “Fucking hell, princess,” he ran a hand through your hair and bunched it up at the back of your head. “That’s it, making me feel so good,” he sighed and threw his head back.

He groaned when you parted your lips, the mushroom head of his member inches away from your mouth. He tipped his head back, “fuck I’m so close.” And soon you felt his warm spent spill down your throat. Bucky moaned at the sight, and his chest reverberated deeply when he saw you swallow.

He pushed you down to lay on your back again and he then he laid next to you. You reached up and took of his Ghostface mask so you can his face. “That desperate to see my face? Hmm?” He smirked at your action. You shook your head and chuckled shyly, “maybe.”

Bucky reached up and caressed your face. “You know you’re really pretty right, princess?” You blushed at his comment, “buy me dinner first, Barnes.” Bucky chuckled and then nodded, “are you free this weekend?”

You froze, “you can’t be serious.”

“Well, I kinda am.”

“You are a piece of work James Barnes,”

“Should I take that as a, yes?”

You chuckled and shook your head; you gave him a soft smile.

“I’m taking that as a yes, princess.”

🎀🎀🎀

A fic posted during the midst of exam period?!

I would like to thank @buck-star for helping me with coming up with this idea!

This took a while and it's ALOT, but late night productivity hit me like a freight train haha.

I've one more exam in the next week and I'll be done!

Hope you lovelies liked this!

Lemme know what y'all think of the fic!

Till' then,

Stay Coquette-y,

Anya 🫶🏽🕊️🎀

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aemondluvbot · 5 months ago

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𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖉𝖗𝖆𝖌𝖔𝖓 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖘𝖕𝖆𝖗𝖗𝖔𝖜 — 𝖎

✧ ⸺ aemond x reader︱part two

𝔞. 𝔫𝔬𝔱𝔢: i adore reading shy and timid heroines that are coaxed out of their shells. as such i adore writing them too. i'm also not incredibly well versed about the hotd universe. whatever i know is based only on the show, so it's possible there are errors. still, i hope you enjoy.

𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: reader is quite shy but not overly so. smut, intercourse (p in v), horrible “riding a dragon” puns

“you wish to ride a dragon?” prince aemond’s voice startles you enough for you the drop the pillow you’re holding.

it’s freshly fluffed, about to be placed on the bed you’d made so neatly just minutes ago. and now the pillow sits on it awkwardly while you stare at the prince like a scared little deer.

“my prince…” you manage a faint squeak, “i was—”

“telling the other maids how you’d be a stellar dragon rider, i heard,” the prince’s mouth curls into a little smirk you’ve come to know well from stolen glances. you stare at his feet, too afraid to meet his eyes. well, eye.

“i didn’t mean…” you fidget with the hem of your frayed dress, wondering what the punishment would be. lashings? cleaning pigsties for a week? a month?

“but you said it.” aemond’s voice still has that tone to it that you can’t quite decipher. and so you stand frozen while he looks at you from across the room. “tell me, my lady—”

“i’m no lady,” you pipe up, shutting up instantly when you realise you’ve interrupted a prince. the prince. “forgive me, my prince, i didn’t mean to interrupt. i…i…”

“you’re no lady,” he hums, as if you aren’t standing there shaking like a leaf, “what shall i call you then, little sparrow?”

his voice is soft like it always is—never boisterous like the king’s or stern like the dowager queen’s. it’s quiet and lilting and compelling. as much as you don’t want to meet his gaze, you find yourself doing exactly that.

“on second thought,” he crosses his arms behind his back, taking graceful steps towards you like he’s gliding on the floor, “sparrow…has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?”

“it does, my prince,” you smile to yourself quietly, “if you like it then i like it.”

for anyone else it would have been a lie. for king aegon, it certainly would have been a lie. but for the prince…when he says it, it’s like the name belongs to you. so much so that for a moment you forget where this conversation first started. until you find prince aemond standing directly in front of you, towering over you that is.

“so tell me, little sparrow,” he says again, voice so soft it skitters down your bones and makes you shiver in the middle of a long, hot summer, “you wish to ride a dragon?”

“the truth?” you ask, feeling a little braver than before.

“i’ll have nothing but that.”

for a moment you chew on your lip, a nervous habit taken up in lieu of biting your dirty, already worn fingernails. aemond’s gaze snags on it, though, and quickly you let go, begging your body to be a little more brave and keep meeting his eyes. it’s not everyday you get to see so much of him. in fact, it’s the first time you’ve gotten to see so much of him.

“they fascinate me, your dragons,” you begin, “sunfyre, mostly.”

“my brother’s dragon,” the prince raises an eyebrow, looking at you with much more curiosity than before. “not vhagar?”

“she scares me, to be honest…” you admit, flushing a little when the prince’s smirk turns into a full blown smile. the smile stays for just a fleeting moment, enough for you to store it in your memories like a stolen sweet.

“she does that, yes,” he chuckles. it’s barely audible and yet pride blooms in your chest for having coaxed that sound out of him.

“i…” you look around a little awkwardly, at the mess in the room that’s yet to be cleaned. it’s not that you don’t want to stand here and talk to him, if anything, that’s the one thing you want the most. to stand here and talk to him about his dragons, and have him tell you about them. have him tell you about himself too…

but if you don’t do your tasks on time then there’s consequences to face. consequences the prince won’t save you from. and so you give aemond a guilty smile.

you must go and you must go now.

“of course,” aemond bows a little, stepping aside to make way for you.

quickly, you fix the pillow to where it was originally supposed to be and gather the old linens in your arms. then you curtsey as fast as you can and leave.

you leave and are almost our the door before aemond’s voice freezes you mid-step.

“if you ever wish to ride a dragon, little sparrow… you know where to find me.”

the day passes, and all you manage to do is think about aemond. you think about him as you wash the linens and hang them to dry, you think about him while you help the kitchen maids with the pots and wipe the floors of the keep.

you think about him as you eat and gossip away with your friends.

you don’t tell them though… all they know is that you were the one to clean his room in the morning and gather his linens. nothing more.

they will never know anything more.

if you ever wish to ride a dragon, little sparrow… you know where to find me.

that… is for you and you alone.

you do get teased a little for your absent-minded smiles and your lack of attention to their gossip. you get teased and asked if any of the stable boys have caught your fancy. stable boys…nothing more. not a soldier or a knight or a lord. certainly not a prince.

and yet when night falls you find yourself idling in the hallways that lead to his quarters.

if you ever wish to ride a dragon, little sparrow… you know where to find me.

“does the prince need hot water?” you ask one of the maids, “for…for his bath…”

she looks at you in confusion. “malina’s already taken it,” she says, “minutes ago.”

and so you drop the apple in your hands and hurry outside towards the prince’s room. malina is old, she can’t have gone that far can she? just like you predicted, she’s there when you turn around the corner, carefully balancing the hot water in her hands while a few other girls carry similar pots. you quickly cross the gap and call out for her.

“let me,” you offer, arms outstretched, “you can go rest, malina. i’m done for the day, i can take this.”

she smiles at you gratefully while grumbling about old knees and hands you the pot. and so you set on your way, hiding a quiet smile and ducking your head when one of the guards gives you a strange look.

the prince’s bedroom is awash in the glow of candlelight. for a moment, the excitement in your belly turns to disappointment. he isn’t here… of course he isn’t, he’s important and busy and has more things to do than sit in his bedroom all day thinking about you like you’ve thought about him.

“you’re back, little sparrow,” the softness of his voice send flutters in your stomach. the other girls look towards each other, quiet looks passing between them. you know this would take precisely half a minute to spread around the keep. and yet it does not bother you one bit.

“my prince, we’ve got water for your bath.”

“ah,” he nods and gestures vaguely towards the bathing chamber.

one by one all of you enter, emptying the buckets in the brass tub until it’s full of steaming water and soaps and oils. one by one the others start leaving, their job done…

the towels are on the counter, the candles are burning, the tub is filled—there’s nothing more to be done. you know he usually prefers to be alone. and yet you linger.

you linger until aemond targaryen enters the bathing chamber, naked as the day he was born.

and then you turn around fast enough to bump into the wall.

“you startle easily, little sparrow,” aemond laughs. “never seen a naked man before?”

you have… that’s not the problem. you’ve just never seen a naked man as…well-endowed as him. your back still to him and your heart in your chest, you nod. there’s a slight splash as he settles into the tub. some of the spilled water licks the soles of your feet. finally, timidly, you turn.

at least under the cloudy water he’s not so naked anymore. although his (now wet) chest certainly does nothing to calm your racing heart.

“tell me,” aemond says, “did you think about dragons all day?”

well…

“maybe,” you hedge, “a little.” and it’s not a lie. you did think of vhagar for a little, and sure it was only to think about aemond riding her into the skies, but she was there in your thoughts. briefly.

“and what do you know about them?”

from most people it would have been a condescending question, one to point out your intellectual capabilities or the lack thereof. from aemond it’s simply curiosity.

“i know they’re gods. i know they’re old and powerful and only someone with valyrian blood can claim one. i know targaryen babes get a dragon’s egg for their cradle.” you answer rather proudly.

“very good,” aemond nods. “come here. sit.”

you look to where he’s pointing, at a little step stool in the corner. and then you see where his eyes are pointing, at a spot right by the tub.

“do you read?” aemond asks as soon as you’ve settle by the tub. you blush, a little embarrassed.

“i can’t…”

“no worries,” his voice turns gentle, “i was going to give you a book about vhagar’s riders. now i will just have to tell you about her myself.”

that startles you a little. surprised, you look at him again, really look at him—at his face that’s soft in the candlelight and his one eye that twinkles with mischief. you look at the leather patch covering the other, at the scar that runs around it.

“can i ask why, my prince…”

“well,” aemond moves a little, sitting up straighter so a little more of his chest is now visible to you. the water cascades down pale skin, the candlelight creates hypnotising patterns that are pretty enough that you almost reach out and touch.

touch the water and the light and the skin. touch him.

but that’s a silly thought for silly girls.

quickly you ball your hand into a fist and look at him again only to find him smirking.

“as i was saying,” aemond says a little pointedly, “you can’t be scared of her if you wish to ride her someday now, can you?”

your heart thuds so loudly in your chest, you wonder if he can hear it. perhaps the entire red keep can hear it, perhaps king’s landing.

“i can’t ride her, she’s yours and… and she’ll kill me if i… she’ll burn me alive if i even go near her! and that’s if the guards don’t take my head first—”

“hush, little sparrow,” aemond moves fast enough that you have barely any time to stop rambling before he’s out of the tub and kneeling in front of you, his finger on your lips. not that you need it really, the situation is entirely enough to stun you into silence.

you gape at the prince, at his beautiful, wet body that looks like it’s gleaming golden in the candlelight. you gape at him kneeling on his knees for you. a nobody.

“will you stay quiet or will i have to make you?” he asks, his tone a little coy.

heat coils in your belly, “would you like to, my prince?”

and that’s more bold than you’ve ever been in your entire life. but now that you’re here and desperate and wanting so so much, you can’t really let shyness snatch it away. and so you straighten up a little, letting your eyes roam freely on his body.

there are scars on his skin, of course there are, but even they look beautiful. then there’s the muscle honed by hours of sword training. his beautiful silver hair is damp from the water and gleaming like molten metal. you reach out and touch—just one strand that’s managed to stick to his cheek.

aemond groans.

leaving would be wise… leaving right this second would be even wiser, and yet when aemond tugs on your wrist and pulls you closer, it’s you who kisses him first. it’s heady, dizzying, intoxicating. he tastes like night air and burns like fire.

you feel quite the same.

your frayed old dress is quick to go as soon as he pulls you up—discarded by the tub casually. it gets half caught up on the edge but neither of you notice, too lost in the kiss. to caught up in the feel of the other’s body.

you know he knows this room like the back of his hand. you don't need to. you can trust him at least in this regard—to lead you to his bed and fuck you any way he wants.

“little sparrow,” he half-speaks, half-moans, “i want you. i want you right now.” it’s a needy and desperate confession, and it turns you on even more, makes your blood sing.

his hands are fast and nimble, eager to remove the last layer of clothes on you. still, the prince takes a moment to watch your hair come loose from your bun and cascade down your shoulders, his lips parted in awe and pupils blown out wide.

you watch him. simply because he looks beautiful.

“like what you see?” aemond teases and and you flush.

it’s certainly a sight—the two of you standing opposite each other, entirely naked and about to devour each other.

he walks backwards, eyes firmly on your body, lingering in all the places that make you feel like the only woman on he’s ever been with. he walks backwards till he eventually finds the bed and sits.

“come here,” aemond says, beckons more like. and so you do—walking with a deliberate sway to your hips that his eyes train on until you’re standing right in front of him. knees touching his.

“beautiful,” he says, looking up at you in awe.

you’re not entirely sure it’s true. you’re no lady in the court or a pretty foreign beauty. you’re no beautiful woman of the night, but hearing him say the words is still a delight. he makes it sound like he’s consumed by your beauty (even though it’s likely the lust that’s hazing their thoughts).

and yet he makes you feel like his own little midnight sun—bright, unique, central to his universe.

you from before would have never though such stupid thoughts.

and now you let him pull you onto his lap.

you kiss him again, slow and sensual this time, rolling your hips against his, grinding on his thigh. it’s a deliberate torment, a torturous build-up so he could finally relieve the ache between your legs.

“please, my prince” you breathe, “touch me.”

so he does, gently gripping your waist to keep you in the steady rhythm while his mouth moves down to your breasts. his tongue flicks around your nipple, drawing out a gasp and making you arch your back. you want more, so much more.

aemond seems to sense the need.

in one fluid movement, he’s on his back, and you on top. his cock brushes against your clit, drawing out whimpers. moonlight filters in through the windows, illuminating his face only just so that you can see his swollen lips—red, delicious—you can’t resist stealing another kiss.

can’t resist tangling your hands in his silver hair and tracing a finger down his cheekbones, his jaw. he hisses with every movement, hard and throbbing beneath you.

“are you ready for me, little sparrow?,” he moans, lowering you on his abdomen. his erection is pressed against your ass now—ready is what you are… ready and aching, eager to feel him.

“p-please, my prince…”

aemond tuts. “say my name…”

your heart speeds up a little in your chest. it’s one thing to be sleeping with the prince, it’s another to forget your manners entirely and address him like he’s your equal.

“i c-can’t,” you whimper, moving your hips in a desperate attempt to feel something.

“i’ll stop this if you won’t” aemond says it like a promise, and there’s no way you want to risk it. if there’s even a slight chance of him stopping and leaving you here like this, a mess at his mercy…

“a-aemond,” you whisper his name like it’s an unpredictable thing. his breath hitches in his chest. “aemond please…”

“good little sparrow…” his hands come to rest on your waist, lifting you up and gently guiding you down on his cock, filling you in inch by inch. you splay a hand on his chest, barely registering his racing heart. all you can focus on is how good he feels; hard and stretching you out. filling you to the hilt.

“so perfect,” he hisses. his hands grip your ass, fingers digging into the soft flesh while you roll your hips on his pelvis; too eager and desperate and full of want. you can already feel a bruise blooming on the back of your thighs where he grips so possessively.

“so are you, m–aemond,” you breathe, already consumed by the feeling of his cock hitting you over and over, in just the right spot. his hand reaches down and between your legs then, finding your clit and rubbing it in circles until you’re screaming his name and practically soaking him with your slick.

aemond moves his hips too, thrusting up, fucking into you till a continuous string of curses falls out of his mouth. his chest glistens with sweat, sticky and warm and beautiful in the moonlight.

you’re lost in the pleasure, but you traces the scars on his chest—the faint dusting of hair and freckles, little nicks and cuts and faint bruises. you trace every part of him like he belongs to you somehow. like you belong to him too…

you suppose you do… at least that much is true.

the pleasure builds and builds, your thoughts swirl more and disappear entirely the more he thrusts into you. he’s figured out your pattern—the rhythm that makes you tick and drives you crazy. and even when your thighs burn and tremble, you can’t seem to slow down.

all you want to do is soar up and up and up until…

aemond’s hand is between your legs again, flicking your clit so roughly that it makes you cry out. and that’s what drives you over the edge.

you moan his name again, chanting it like a blind devotee as waves upon waves of pleasure crash over you. you’re vaguely aware that you’re gripping onto his shoulders tightly, vaguely aware that you can feel his cock twitching inside you, coating your walls with his release.

gasping, you throw your head back, letting the orgasm wash over you. the loud, filthy, wet sounds are softer now, slower in pace as you both come to a stop. no one says a word—not a single teasing word or praise—there are only your breaths, out of sync and loud.

you slump forward, resting your warm cheek on his chest, hearing his heart beating loudly in your ear.

“is that how it feels…?” your voice is ragged from screaming his name yet dripping with coyness. “is that how it feels to ride a dragon, my prince?”

aemond laughs—a real booming laugh that makes his chest vibrate and makes the sound permeate your skin, makes it settle bone deep.

“i should say yes, shouldn’t i, little sparrow?” his fingers thread through your hair, much gentler now, lulling you to sleep almost. “do not worry about it. you’ll find out soon enough anyway…”

#✧.* ⸺ valyria writes #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #hotd #house of the dragon #house of the dragon smut #ewan mitchell x reader #ewan mitchell #smut #sparrow!reader

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reiderwriter · 1 year ago

Note

Could you write a spencer CNC smut fic? I personally like the type of fics where spencer would be more of a soft dom and kinda talk you through it and say stuff like he couldnt help himself while the y/n begs it to stop. And maybe some after care and stuff. Anyways if youre not comfortable with that i ofc understand!! 💜

A/N: Okay, I sort of got carried away, but I hope you still like it! I took the "he couldn't help himself" thing to heart but Y/N turned into a bit of a brat half way through OOPS.

Summary: Spencer walks in on you showering and decides he has to have you.

Warnings: CNC, soft!Dom! Spencer, bratty reader, shower sex, creampie, PinV sex, a little bit of mirror sex, degradation, name-calling (pervert, bitch once but he's mostly pretty soft). 18+ MINORS DNI

WC: 1.3k

The pipes creaked a little as you turned on the shitty motel shower, sighing as you felt the water hit your skin. You were five days into a case somewhere in the rural midwest, and after a particularly embarrassing fall in the mud, you’d been sent back to your room in the middle of the day to clean yourself off. You’d stomped back to the motel, absolutely frustrated with the way the case was going, desperately craving the hour of peace you’d been granted.

When you entered the shower cubicle, you were thankfully greeted by hot, almost scalding water. The steam rose and quickly fogged up all the mirrors in the bathroom as you started scrubbing down every inch of your skin, making sure to wash away not just the mud but the fatigue of the case, too. You were so self-involved that you didn’t hear your room door open, or the voice call out your name.

“Y/N?” Spencer called to you, but you didn’t respond, not hearing him. Turning towards the sound of the shower, the man couldn’t help himself but gravitate towards you. Turning the handle to the bathroom door, he opened it and stared straight at you for a minute before you noticed his presence.

“Shit, Spencer, you fucking perv, what are you doing?” you shrieked as you finally met his eyes, arms coming down to cover your private areas.

“I-I’m sorry, Hotch sent me here because you forgot…” his eyes trailed up and down your body now, taking in every inch of you as you shrank under his stare, pushing further back into the wall of the shower stall in the hopes that he wouldn’t see as much.

“Y/N, why are you covering yourself?” he asked, suddenly snapping his eyes up to yours.

“Because I’m fucking naked Spencer, and you’re just standing there staring at me.” You hoped that he would get the idea after that, realising that he’d overstepped a boundary. He didn’t, instead moving further into the small bathroom and closing the door behind him, locking it from the inside the way you should have earlier.

“What are you doing?” you asked as he opened the shower stall and pushed himself into it, removing his shoes on the way, but not bothering to rid himself of his clothes. You had your answer soon enough as he grabbed the sides of your face and forced a kiss on your lips.

You groaned into the kiss and attempted to push him off, but he’d worked one hand down to yours and pinned you back against the wall, his leg between the two of yours. The kiss had shocked you, and your brain was left in catch up mode when he trailed his other hand down to your breasts and started paying them some attention.

“You were so pretty, Y/N, I couldn’t help it,” he kissed his way down your neck and you were frozen, unable to react.

“Let me help you out baby, you’ve been looking so tense lately, you need this,” he whispered in your ear, and your eyes unconsciously twitched closed as he pinched your nipple between his finger and thumb. Your chest thrust into his hand and you could feel him smile into your neck as he kissed his way down to his hands, the water still pouring over both of you.

“F-fucking pervert,” you said half-heartedly as he bought his lips finally to your nipples and began licking and sucking at them like a man starved.

“That’s right, baby, I’m a pervert, and so are you.” His hand found your cunt then, and he roughly pushed two fingers into you before you could gasp out again, thrusting quickly and as deep as he could into you. You let out a long drawn out moan, the pain mixing with the pleasure to make you delirious.

“What was that baby? You look so pretty when you’re all dumb like this.”

“Fuck you,” you spat back at him, and he just smirked again in reply, his damp curls falling in his face so you could only just see his lips.

“Do you feel better now, Y/N? Now that you’ve worked out some of that frustration? Or do you need more?” your eyes snapped open at the suggestion, but just as you opened your mouth to protest, he shoved the fingers from your pussy into your mouth, forcing you to taste yourself on him. You moaned slowly, unable to stop yourself from enjoying the moment.

“You’re so pretty like this for me, sucking on my fingers like a horny bitch.” He released his hold on your arms, and you almost slumped to the shower floor, but he caught you in his large hands and pulled you up. He turned you around, roughly pushing your chest up against the wall of the stall, letting you face the bathroom mirror. As steamed up as it was, you could still just make out your naked form in it, his clothed self holding you in place behind it.

“Thank you, Y/N, let’s act nice now while I make you feel better,” he kissed your hair gently, holding both of your arms folded behind your back now. You heard him unzip his pants and your protests died on your tongue as he pushed into you in the next second, sheathing himself inside you without any warning.

His grip on your arms tightened as he began setting a ruthless pace, your chest pressed uncomfortably into the wall the entire time as you were forced to watch him use you in the distorted mirror.

“Spencer- Spencer, no, fuck,” you moaned with each thrust, your nipples painfully hard against the cool glass.

“You just looked so pretty, I couldn’t stop myself,” he moaned out behind you, the only other sound in the room that of the running water and the sounds of your arousal coating him with each messy thrust. You couldn’t even be sure anymore if the wetness running down your legs was coming from you or the shower.

“You- Ahhh… You fucking pervert…” you mumbled out, your eyes rolling back in your head as you reached your climax with him buried deep inside you. He moaned sinfully as you tightened up around him, but kept pounding out against you.

“Not a pervert…” he gasped out, refuting your insults. “Just trying to help you,” he moaned out, trying to convince himself that he was helping you. He got louder in his moans after that, not holding back from letting you hear his pleasure, until finally it was too much for him and he pushed his entire body weight on yours and came directly inside of you, filling you up with his cum.

After a few minutes of him catching his breath, he removed himself from you and cleaned you up with a nearby wash cloth, turning the shower off and pulling you back into a more comfortable position. When you were finally facing him again, you planted a quick kiss to his lips, which he returned with vigour.

“You know, when I said you should make up an excuse to join me, I wasn’t expecting you so soon.”

“And I wasn’t expecting my own girlfriend to call me a pervert, but I guess this works for both of us, right?” he wrapped a towel around you and unlocked the door, guiding you back to the motel room you had been sharing for the last few days.

“You’re lucky we’re roommates this time, I don’t think I could explain this if I met Hotch or Morgan out in the hall on the way back to my room to change clothes.”

“I don’t see how your impatience is my problem, Doctor Reid.” You smirked up at him as he began unbuttoning his wet clothing.

“Well, you see, Y/N, you just looked so pretty…”

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nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos · 1 year ago

Text

Totally not projecting my own present emotional instability here but

Oh look hurt/comfort

Shiny 🤩

Probably going to be doing one for each Shanks, Zoro, Sanji, Mihawk, and apparently Buggy too who seems to have become a mainstay now.

I'm having trouble continuing my current WIPs, usually if I can crank out a oneshot or two I can focus and get back to it.

Sanji first.

And aaawwaaaaay we go~

Late Night Chats

Trigger Warnings: death of loved one

SFW and cloyingly fluffy

Hurt/comfort with

OPLA!Sanji X Reader

♫♬ Six Days In June - The Fratellis ♫♬

And if I could paint you a picture now it would be nothing less than tragic

I would trade a lifetime for a moment now of magic

Sanji knew full well he was a hopeless romantic. He had always known it. While his desire to work in the kitchens at Baratie had always been the greatest source of bitterness between him and Zeff, the second greatest probably stemmed from the older chef berating him for flirting with customers, no matter how respectful he was about it. He really couldn't help it—women were the gods' greatest gift to creation, and they deserved to be treated as such.

The hiring of a new garde manger had been another source of hostility, however briefly; Zeff had said he would consider Sanji for the position, and then tore it right out from under him, like always. He even had the nerve to roll his eyes and say, "You'll get over it." The rest of the staff stayed out of it, and kept a fair distance during prep hours that day, as it wasn't uncommon for such a row between the head chef and Sanji to devolve into physical violence.

But when the kitchen doors came open and you entered at a minute past eight that morning, he had frozen—and rather unbecomingly so, with his mouth hanging open, holding a sauté pan in the air, primed and ready to sling it right at Zeff's head.

He barely registered Zeff's snort of laughter at his reaction, or the gruff old chef's taunting apology for "the idiot waiter's behavior." Sanji's heart had simply ceased when your eyes met his, however briefly, as you glanced between him and Zeff in clear alarm at the scene you had just walked in on.

For once, Zeff was right—Sanji was already over it.

You had your work cut out for you, starting your two week stage that particular day—there was a party of more than twenty world government snobs expected at one that afternoon, which meant cold apps and hors d'oeuvres needed to be in no short supply. Sanji kept his eye on you throughout the entire shift, any time he was in the kitchen. Your station was right next to the break table in the corner, and oh, he could have watched you work all day, your graceful and precise movements as you piped filling into two trays full of deviled eggs, the deft motion of your wrist in cutting the chives to perfectly even half-inch lengths, carefully adding a few to each with your tweezers, ever so delicately topping each egg with a few salmon roe and a turn of your pepper mill.

Sanji stamped out his cigarette in the ashtray, and crossed the short distance to your station before you could call order up to retrieve the trays.

"Absolutely stunning," he commented with a small sigh.

You met his eyes briefly as you set to cleaning your station and checking your next order. "Just following the recipe."

"Well...." he chuckled lightly, leaning across the counter. "I wasn't only referring to the food, chef."

Your eyes locked with his a moment longer, before you rolled them and went back to work—but there was the slightest hint of a blush on your cheeks as he lifted the second tray, a hint of a smile curving your soft lips, and Sanji didn't fail to miss it.

Your stage was two weeks, before you would either be hired in fully or told to take a walk, but you melded so seamlessly with the rest of the staff that Sanji had no doubt you were on track to becoming a permanent fixture at Baratie—and god, he hoped he was right.

He was genuinely drawn to you—not only your talent in the busy kitchen, your ability to keep a level head and your spirits high under the high stress of the lunch and dinner rushes, but everything. The subtle and teasing way you returned his flirting. The late nights cooking with you, experimenting with new recipes after shift, or just chatting by the bar while you shared a drink and a smoke or two. Well before a week was out, he wanted to just grab you by the waist and kiss you like his life depended on it.

But he was nothing if not a gentleman, and for all the time he had been blessed to spend with you, there was still something distant about you. You skirted around any personal topics—your family, friends, your home before you came to Baratie, all of it was a mystery. Sanji didn't push it. He did prod at it occasionally out of sheer curiosity, how you had come to be so accomplished a chef at only a year younger than him, but he didn't push. He couldn't stomach the thought of pushing you away if he tried too hard to get you to open up.

Your eighth day at Baratie, just after the end of dinner rush, Sanji watched Chef Zeff hand you an envelope as you stood over the dish pit, your chef coat slung over your shoulder. He spoke to you quietly as you opened it and scanned over the letter inside. Something shifted in your eyes for a moment, so quickly that it was difficult to tell what it was.

Then you stuck the letter in your apron pocket and shook your head. Your mouth formed the words, "It's fine," as you went right back to scrubbing a plate.

Zeff gave you a nod, a light pat on the shoulder and a sigh as he passed.

And it was all Sanji could think about for the next hour as he squared away the dining area. He did so quickly, perhaps a bit less thoroughly than he should have, but that didn't matter. What mattered was that flicker in your eyes, a flicker of something. Whatever news had come to you in that envelope had been nothing good.

You were the last person left in the sprawling kitchen by the time Sanji returned, still making your way slowly through the stacks of dishes, a task that was normally split between a few of the kitchen and dining staff.

Yet you were still there, clearly taking your time, meticulously cleaning each dish that passed through your hands. Drying each one thoroughly before placing them lightly in their designated areas, your breathing slow and controlled, your eyes focused and yet somehow miles away at the same time.

Sanji plucked the ash tray from the break table and crossed the kitchen, lighting up a smoke and grabbing a dish towel before he reached you. You proved just how thoroughly you had spaced out when he set the ashtray down—you let out a small cry of alarm and dropped the plate you were holding.

Sanji managed to stoop down and catch it just before it could hit the floor and shatter. Your eyes locked with his for a moment, and there was that flicker again—pain, sadness, so much that it made his chest ache. Then, in the blink of an eye, you were back to washing dishes.

"Don't sneak up on me," you chided, elbowing him playfully as he leaned back against the counter, drying the plate. "You know how Zeff gets about anyone breaking dishes."

"That's entirely unfair, I wasn't even sneaking." He knew he had to be careful—had to play it safe, act like everything was normal. He couldn't outright ask you what was wrong without you either changing the subject or outright storming off. "Now, had I been sneaking..."

Ge set the plate down, and you were already rolling your eyes as he circled behind you, resting a hand lightly at your waist.

"I'd have come up behind you...maybe...put an arm around you..."

Your lips pursed, clearly fighting to keep a straight face as his hand slipped from your waist, across your stomach, his arm curled around you to pull you gently back against his chest. He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, tilting his head to lean in close over your shoulder.

"Said something like, 'How about we leave these dishes for someone else and go have a drink or two, beautiful?'"

You tilted your head to meet his eyes, shaking your head a little. "I'm sure you would have," you said, giggling a little as you patted him on the cheek. Your lips lingered barely an inch from his, and for a few impossibly long seconds Sanji briefly forgot why he had approached you in the first place.

Then you reached over your shoulder and held a bowl out to him.

"Sooner we get done, sooner we can go have a couple," you said, smiling sweetly.

"Oh, fine," he sighed, taking the bowl. "But I'm going to sulk about it the whole time."

You giggled a little more when he pressed a brief kiss to your cheek, shoving at him lightly. "I wouldn't expect anything less," you laughed as he resumed leaning back against the counter beside you.

He kept his eyes on you, wondering if you thought you were hiding it well. You were far too quiet, too tense as the laughter faded from your breath and you went back to work. Your shoulders were squared, your chest rising and falling under your apron in slow, even, carefully controlled breaths, your eyes growing distant again.

Distant, sad, almost hopeless, on the verge of breaking and desperately trying to hide it.

And Sanji couldn't stand another second of it.

He plung the towel over his shoulder and placed a hand lightly on your shoulder—and before he could do more than open his mouth, you spoke up, your voice low and quiet.

"I'm...going to have to leave for a few days."

"What?" His eyes widened, his cigarette falling from the corner of his mouth in alarm. He quickly stooped down to pick it back up. "Wh—why?" he blurted out.

You swallowed, keeping your eyes on the plate in your hands, not washing it anymore but just staring at it.

"I...I have to handle funeral and burial arrangements for my father." Your voice was still quiet, still so carefully controlled, and his heart sunk right into the pit of his stomach at the slight tremor in your hands. "He...didn't have any other family so I have to...I have to go home for a few days."

That was it. The letter Zeff had handed you. Your mouth forming the words "I'm fine," when he no doubt offered to let you take the rest of the evening off. Over an hour you had stood there washing dishes, alone with nothing but your own thoughts for company, one little push from falling apart.

Sanji took one last puff from his cigarette before putting it out, before gingerly pulling the plate from your hands and setting it aside, before taking a step closer and pulling you just as gingerly into his arms. He felt as well as heard your breath hitch and stutter the slightest bit.

"I'm...so sorry, sweetheart," he said quietly, lowering his forehead over the crown of your hair, cradling your head at his shoulder. You still kept your breathing mostly level, but kept your head down, your hands shaking the slightest bit as they gripped lightly at the front of his shirt. "Was...he ill?"

You nodded shortly. "Dementia." Swallowed. "Early onset. Started around five years ago. I...we had a restaurant in Loguetown. Just a little bistro. Things...got bad a couple years ago. I couldn't keep up running a business and take care of him. He'd go down into the restaurant and try to cook, end up cutting himself or starting a fire. I had to close it and find something else. He...told me a while back that the head chef at Baratie was an old friend, so I..." Your voice cracked a little as you went on. "I had to leave him with a live-in nurse. When I left h—he didn't—he was so far gone he didn't even know who I—"

He pulled his arm a bit tighter around your waist as your sentence cut off in a small sob, his fingers curling in your hair near the nape of your neck. You had been dealing with all of this, alone, this entire week—for five years prior to that, trying to run an entire restaurant on your own and juggle it with taking care of your only family.

He was speechless—couldn't do anything for some time except lean back against the counter and hold you against him, stroke your hair and press a kiss to the top of your head while you clung to him and cried quietly.

He gladly would have held you all night, if that was what you needed—but you drew away after a few minutes, rubbing your palm into your eyes and turning to sit on the floor against the counter, glaring up at the ceiling.

"I never even really got to say bye," you said, giving a small scoff as you ran a hand back through your hair, your head falling back against the counter. Sanji took a seat beside you, and you exhaled a slow, shaking sigh as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders. "Not in any way he'd know. He just looked right at me and asked who I was."

"I'm sure he knows now. And that he'd be proud." You leaned your temple into his shoulder, swallowing, your eyes drifting shut. It didn't matter if you believed it right now—he still wanted to make sure you heard it. "You're...kind, beautiful, talented. To be honest, I could hardly take my eyes off you your first day."

"I know." You laughed quietly at that, your voice still choked from your tears. "You weren't exactly discreet about it."

"Never said I was trying to be."

You glanced up at him at that, and nudged your elbow lightly at his ribs...but you smiled as you shook your head, and that was all that mattered to him. Making you smile, genuinely smile, not just putting it on to mask the pain.

You rolled your eyes a little and closed them again. "I planned on making a point of not getting close to anyone here." You sighed slowly. "You made that impossible, of course."

"You're welcome."

"Would you stop?" you said, both of you laughing a little. A little more of your tension seemed to slip away as he pulled you closer. You shifted so your knees were bent to the side, resting over his leg, your temple at his shoulder. "I wasn't sure if I'd stay here after...." You bit your lip. "If I'd go back home and try to re-open the restaurant. But..." You shook your head. "I like it here. It's like having a family. I never really had that since it was just me and my dad." You drew in a deep breath. "I...still have to go back for a few days and handle his arrangements, but...I want to stay here. There's really nothing for me there now, anyway."

There it was. Without saying it outright...you were staying because of him. Sanji could have floated right off in that moment on a cloud of pure elation. There was nothing official between the two of you yet, but he had grown quickly to adore you. To savor every moment of time you gave him, every second of your flirtatious banter and your late night talks after the kitchen closed, and that only increased with everything he learned about you. Even if you had decided to leave, he couldn't say for sure that he wouldn't have just followed you right out the door like a lost puppy.

Even a few days was too long.

He laid his forehead over the crown of your hair, pressing a brief, chaste kiss to your temple.

"Let me come with you." He heard your breath catch in surprise, felt you freeze as he shook his head. "This isn't something you should have to do alone."

You were quiet, still as stone for several long seconds. He didn't regret the offer, wouldn't ever regret it. The worst you could do was say no, leave for a few days and come back.

You drew in a slow, deep breath after a moment.

"Are you sure Zeff would let you?" you said quietly.

Sanji laughed a little. "He's a cranky old bastard but he isn't heartless," he said, his thumb brushing against the nape of your neck in slow, small circles. "He'll probably tell me not to let the door hit me in the ass on the way out and leave it at that."

Your little giggle made his heart soar.

"You...really don't have to," you said softly, but you couldn't hide the hope in your voice. And that alone was enough to make him sigh softly, hearing hope after seeing the lost, hopeless look in your eyes as you stood over the dish pit minutes earlier.

"I want to," he said gently. "Besides...." He dug into his pocket, pulling out his cigarettes, and held the pack out. "Why in hell..." You took one when he offered it, and he tapped one out as well before tossing the pack up onto the counter behind both of you. "...would I want to stay here waiting tables and arguing with our most esteemed chef..." He leaned in close enough to light both his and your smoke together, taking a long drag and blowing the smoke away out the corner of his mouth, "when I could be spending a few days doting on the single most beautiful woman in the world?"

You gave a small snort of laughter, shaking your head before meeting his eyes again. "You never switch off, do you?"

"Never," he affirmed, grinning.

Sanji leaned back into the counter, resting his arm across his knee, staring up toward the ceiling as a thought struck him—an idea, moreso, one that he couldn't resist acting on.

"What," he said slowly, glancing down at you as you pressed the cigarette to your lips, "would you say was your old man's best dish?"

"Risotto," you said instantly. You smiled a little, turning your head to blow a cloud of smoke away. "His mushroom risotto was our most popular item, he could have made it in his sleep. Shallots, chardonnay, portobello, white truffle, little pinch of nutmeg and thyme to bring out the earthiness, it was...."

"Perfect." He smiled when you glanced uo at him. "Let's make it."

"Wh—*now*?" Your brow furrowed as he shrugged a shoulder. "But—" You nodded back at the counter, up toward the sink behind you. "I have to—the dishes—"

"Will still be there in an hour," he finished for you, and you pursed your lips. "Come on..." he said, lowering his head to rest his forehead against yours, lowering his voice to a light, teasing tone. "Say yes."

"I..." You sighed after a moment, shaking your head. "You are impossible." He lifted his eyebrows, waiting, as you returned his smile. "Fine, yes."

"Perfect," he said once more. He plucked your cigarette from your hand and stood, dropping it as well as his own into the ash tray before offering you both of his hands. You took them and he pulled you to your feet, your fingers lacing together with his.

And, without any warning or hesitation, you pulled yourself up onto your tiptoes and pressed your lips lightly to his.

And, oh, he could have melted into a puddle right there in front of the sink.

Your lips were even softer than they looked, and Sanji knew in an instant that he was going to be hopelessly addicted to them. A slow sigh left him as he tilted his head slightly, returning the slow, sweet kiss, his hands leaving yours to wrap lightly around your waist and draw you in a little closer, a little deeper. Yours came to rest just as lightly at his abdomen for a moment, before you looped your arms around his neck and sank right into him.

He was smiling when your lips parted, his forehead resting against yours as you bit your bottom lip. He curled an arm around your back and lifted his other hand, brushing your hair behind your ear as his eyes remained glued to yours.

"So..." He brushed his thumb across your cheek. "Would you call me an idiot if I said I think I'm falling for you?"

You chuckled softly. "Being that we barely met a week ago...yes." And you smiled, leaning in closer. "But I guess then I'd have to call myself an idiot, too."

And you pressed your lips to his again.

#opla #sanji opla #sanji one piece #vinsmoke sanji #sanji x reader #fluff #one piece fanfiction #opla fanfiction

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jobjobstuff · 5 months ago

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Maxi Muffin Chocolat Intense Dupe

(2024 Olympic Village Chocolate Muffin Recipe)

Original dupe recipe by Becky Krystal of the Washington Post

Instructions based off of a video by @jordan_the_stallion8

Typed up by: @LegendsCookbook

EDITED 8/12/24 to correct misinformation! The recipe was a dupe but passed off as the OG!!

The rest of the image text is under the cut! Also a little rabbit hole on the whole correction at the very end.

Prep Time: 30 Minutes

Bake Time: 20 to 24 Minutes

Yield: 12 Muffins

Muffin Ingredients:

¾ cup milk

¼ cup water

2 tsp instant coffee

½ cup unsweetened cocoa powder

½ cup chocolate chunks

¼ cup butter

2 cups all-purpose flour

1 tbsp baking powder

¼ tsp salt

½ cup dark brown sugar

½ cup granulated sugar

¼ cup vegetable or canola oil

2 large eggs

1 tsp vanilla extract

⅓ cup chocolate chunks + more for garnish

Chocolate Ganache Filling Ingredients:

½ cup heavy cream

¼ cup chocolate chunks

pinch of salt

Instructions:

1. Preheat the oven to 375°F.

2. In a medium saucepan over medium heat, add in the milk, water, and instant coffee. Bring the mixture to a simmer.

3. Once simmering, add in the cocoa powder and stir until smooth. Then add in the ½ cup of chocolate chunks and the butter and stir until both are completely melted. Remove the chocolate mixture from the heat and transfer to a large mixing bowl. Set aside to cool slightly.

4. In a separate mixing bowl, add in the flour, baking powder, and salt and stir to combine. Set aside.

5. Once the chocolate mixture is slightly cooler, stir in the brown sugar, granulated sugar, vegetable oil, eggs, and vanilla extract until smooth.

6. Add in about ⅓ of the flour mixture into the chocolate mixture and stir until smooth. Add the rest of the flour and fold until just combined. Do not overmix! Lastly, fold in the ⅓ cup of chocolate chunks.

7. Grease a muffin pan or line it with muffin cups. Add the batter to the muffin pan, filling each cup about ⅔ full. Add a few chocolate chunks to the tops as garnish.

8. Bake the muffins for 20 to 24 minutes. The muffins will be done when a toothpick inserted into the muffin comes out mostly clean. Set aside the muffins to cool slightly.

9. For the filling, in a small saucepan over medium heat, add the heavy cream. Heat until just simmering before removing from the heat. Add in the chocolate chunks and salt and gently stir until the chunks are melted.

10. To fill a muffin, add the ganache to a piping bag. Pierce the muffin with the tip of the piping bag and fill with as much chocolate as desired. If you don’t have a piping bag, you can fill the muffin by carefully carving out a small chunk of the muffin from the top and spooning in the filling.

11. We may not be Olympians, but we can try to eat like them!

Additional notes:

Bake time will depend on how big the muffins are. Are they jumbo muffins? Cupcake sized? Mini muffins?

For richer muffins, use whole milk but 1%, 2%, and skim milk will work as well.

---

After doing some research, it looks like this recipe is actually a dupe! While the original video by Jordan the Stallion was vague enough to have you think it was from the original bakery, Coup de Pates, it is actually taken from Becky Krystal of the Washington Post. That recipe can be found here: https://www.washingtonpost.com/recipes/olympic-chocolate-muffins/

The Maxi Muffin Chocolat Intense at Coup de Pates are mass produced, frozen, and sold to bakeries all over. As of 8/12/24, they have not officially released their recipe but that hasn’t stopped chefs from trying to recreate the chocolate goodness! https://www.coupdepates.fr/produit/maxi-muffin-chocolat-intense-831295

The blogger Kassie Mendieta was able to get locate an ingredient list and has based their dupe recipe around that. Give that recipe a peek too: https://ibakemistakes.substack.com/p/the-highly-sought-after-olympic-chocolate

Currently, we’ve reached out to the bakery to ask if they are willing to share their recipe, though we’re sure that we are one of many who want to know. We’ll keep everyone updated if they respond!

We decided to do this update to correct misinformation and to give credit where credit is due. If you make any of these recipes, please share photos and your experience making them! We love food and sharing meals with others 😊

#olympics #chocolate muffins #henrik christiansen #olympic chocolate muffin #Jordan the stallion #Recipe #m

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chaoticbardlady99 · 5 months ago

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I Wondered if I Could Come Home? (Dadstarion x F! Reader) Part Five, MDNI 18+

Synopsis: Astarion takes off after a frustrating day with Eowyn, leaving both of you feeling abandoned. Astarion makes things right. Poor Eowyn has a tummy ache and I continue to be terrible at writing synopses.

Content Warning: Abandonment wounds, dead dove, fainting, SMUT, PIV, bathtub smut, also it's long.

Part 4 : Part 6 : Master List

“It’s going to be okay,” you sing through your tears, Eowyn continues to wail, “it’s going to be okay- we have each otherrrr and mommy loves youuuuu and we will be-“

You choke on your own lie.

It’s been hours- four and a half, in fact- since Astarion blew up and stormed out. Eowyn hadn’t stopped crying- her little tummy hurts, but she is also hungry so the confusion hasn’t been helping and neither has the insane amount of spit up.

She knows her dad has left, you know her dad has left, and you are both coming to terms that it’s just you two now. Your head is throbbing and your vision is spotted- you feel like you could collapse at any given moment.

Astarion had probably changed his shirt for the sixth time and he was going to change it a seventh when you suggested he wait until she is asleep so that he won’t have to do so much laundry. It had been an innocent suggestion- you were going to clean his laundry anyway because you know the whole spit up thing was making his skin crawl.

For whatever reason, that had set him off.

“How dare you tell me what to do when your devil child refuses to give me even five seconds to think!” He seethed, fangs bared like when he killed Cazador and you were frozen- Eowyn also stopped crying and whimpered, “I can’t take this anymore! I can’t fucking do this!”

You are still shaking in the aftermath of that and you refuse to go up to your room. You aren’t ready to see all of his things gone. He can get in through the window and that’s how he left last time.

Last time. You sob. I am such a moron. Why did I ever think he would actually stay?

Eowyn spits up more and more- you are trying to help her feel better and hope Shadowheart comes back today from her trip. You would take her to a healer but you can’t leave the house looking like this and with no one to watch Eowyn…

You had been so prepared to be a single mother before Astarion came back. You had had it all down to a T- you had a plan in place. Shadowheart was going to stay with you and help you until you got into your rhythm. Isobel and Dame Aylin were going to be here. It had all been so well planned, but you told everyone it would be okay! You had Astarion! You were going to do this parenting thing together!

The door opens and Shadowheart comes walking in- all smiles with bags in hand- but is immediately over there in a second. She uses lesser restoration on Eowyn and calm- why didn’t you think to use calm? Her crying ceases and she relaxes in Shadowheart’s arms falling asleep.

You laugh- you laugh so hard you become hysterical. Shadowheart tries to help you sit on the couch, but you are frozen in place.

You think you may have truly, truly lost it this time.

You now have to tell her that she was right and letting Astarion back was trouble- the only person in the entire world who can seem to calm your child down because you are too busy being a sniffling mess.

You are a failure of a mother, Tav. How dare you break Eowyn’s heart by allowing her to meet him at all.

The laughter doesn’t cease- you feel basically crazy. The last thing you remember is hearing someone rush up the stairs before falling to the ground.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Astarion has never moved faster and yet he still only barely grabbed you before you hit the ground.

He had finally felt like he blew off more than enough steam to be able to come back and apologize a hundred thousand times over for his reaction.

And for his genetics because he is certain that’s where Eowyn got her pipes from.

He had felt himself snap and he knew it was because he was starving. It wasn’t just that Eowyn was crying and sick, he felt helpless, but it made him feel good that she felt much better laying against him when her temperature was all over the place.

You had looked exhausted and Astarion was once again reminded that he can’t be left alone with Eowyn just yet. He felt like an utter failure.

Astarion destroyed an entire bandit camp and then another and then another until he was-

Well fed

Entirely decompressed

Confident enough in his capabilities to go back and be the parent you know he is capable of being.

He went to the healer’s shop to get something to soothe Eowyn’s tummy, but the healer was out of herbs. She told him where to find more and he even brought back extra so that the shop had it in stock. She paid him and tried to flirt with him, but he made it abundantly clear that the vomit on his shirt was from his child that he adores along with his absolutely lovely partner that carried her.

That little side quest turned into going to the local market to get all your favorite foods, new bath soaps, a very comfortable pair of pajamas he thinks you would look adorable in, and a ring. Astarion isn’t sure when he will pop the question, but he wants to and he saw the perfect ring- how could he not buy it?

He even bought new soap that is your favorite scent. Astarion knows you intend on washing his clothing after this affair, but once he gets Eowyn and you down for a nap (you worry so much about her sleeping with her tummy like this), he would wash all of the clothes soiled in the span of mere minutes- yours, his, and Eowyn’s.

He knew something was wrong when he walked up to the house and the door was wide open with Shadowheart’s things lazily left out on the patio. Astarion had felt paralyzed- did he leave and something truly bad happened? Did that hag come back?

Your hysterical laughing did not help- he knows that laugh. You laughed like that when Orin kidnapped Lae’zel and you proceeded to promptly pass out. It’s your, “I have finally fucking lost it” laugh and it means you probably have the migraine of the century.

With Shadowheart’s help, they got both you and Eowyn upstairs and in bed. Eowyn was softly snoring in her crib, looking peaceful for the first time in 72 hours. You, on the other hand, look anything but peaceful.

Your face is tear stained, your eyes are puffy, and your skin is ever so slightly paler than it should be. You are shaking and Shadowheart promptly informed him that you have a fever, but she has everything to help you.

The two silently work together to grind up the herbs and other medicinal items. Astarion knows she wants to ask what happened and honestly? He has no idea.

Okay, well he does, but he didn’t realize how “end of the world” like it would be for you both. Astarion would never-

Oh.

He stops suddenly and blinks away tears he didn’t realize he had.

How had Astarion not thought about that? You used to be able to cope if he blew up and stormed off- worried that Cazador or your other foes would hurt him- but the last time he blew up on you, he vanished.

He left without leaving a trace of himself behind and then you didn’t see him for months. Eowyn’s first experience with him is that he threatened you and then abandoned not only you, but her as well.

Astarion’s memory of the day’s earlier events makes him put his head in his hands.

He remembers how terrified you both looked when he snapped and Eowyn’s whimper echoes through his head.

Astarion couldn’t figure out why you hadn’t gone into the bedroom and tried to nap- it had been both of your plans before he so horribly ran off. Now he realizes that you were trying to avoid seeing his absence- you really were not expecting him to come back ever again.

“Astarion?”

He bursts into tears when Shadowheart says his name with a counting house worth of worry. He doesn’t deserve it- he is a monster.

“I got so overwhelmed,” he chokes out, “I was so hungry and I wasn’t thinking- I just… I just left. I said mean, terrible things and I scared them both.

“I’m the reason she passed out. She thought I was never coming back.”

Astarion hears Shadowheart get up and he really is expecting to be stabbed through or something, but instead, she puts down two wine chalices and opens a bottle. She pours them both extremely large glasses before sitting down to get back to work.

“I can’t imagine this is easy for you,” she begins slowly, “you went from only having to worry about yourself to yourself and Tav and now Eowyn.

“I have noticed how hungry you are- I brought back some blood from the local butcher on my way home for you. I appreciate your refusal to drink from Tav until she is back to her full strength and I can really see the effort you are putting in. Not only with Eowyn, but in your relationship with Tav too.

“She may not be able to handle you leaving in a storm without experiencing a panic attack for a while,” Shadowheart says glumly, “but I think if you communicate your needs that she will listen and come up with a solution that works for everyone. She isn’t Cazador, Astarion. She loves you and she worries and cares for you as much as you do her. If you needed to go hunting, she probably would have, and I mean this quite literally, kicked you out of the house until you felt better. Your needs are important to her- she isn’t going to deny you or torture you for having them.

“Eowyn, on the other hand,” Shadowheart snorts, “well, I don’t think she cares what any of us want. She knows she’s too cute for that nonsense.”

Astarion and Shadowheart continue crushing the herbs in silence and he takes a long drink from the wine. He contemplates everything she said and he hates how transparent he must be for her to see why he was struggling to speak up about how hungry he was. It’s not your fault for not noticin- you were barely making time for your own needs.

There is a compromise somewhere. There has to be.

“Thank you.”

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Your bones hurt and you are freezing and hot at the same time. Everything hurts and the smell of Astarion��s cologne makes you want to cry.

You must be hallucinating because you are certain his voice is in the doorway talking to Shadowheart.

Oh how I am going to miss you, my Love. You think glumly. Thank you for the time we had together.

Your broken heart has manifested into physical illness and you wonder if you are even capable of taking care of Eowyn like this. You can hardly take care of yourself.

It also makes you wonder if you should have taken Jaheira’s advice in the first place and put her up for adoption. However, you quickly nix that thought- you couldn’t imagine a life without your sweet little girl and you will be brave for her. You have to be- there is no other choice.

A cool hand against your temple causes a sigh of relief to leave your cracked and dried lips. You cried so much and completely neglected to rehydrate.

You try to get up and prepare yourself to face Shadowheart and your shame.

But it isn’t Shadowheart- it’s Astarion with a look of concern on his face and he helps you sit up.

“Here, my Love,” he says as he supports your shaking hand as you drink the water, “I bought food as well- all of your favorites so when you are feeling up to eating, let me know.”

You nod and stare at him. You can’t tell if he is a mirage or if this is really him. Everything looks so hazy.

“Are you really here?”

You wince at how cracked and rough your voice sounds. Your tone is pathetic and melancholy.

Sadness consumes Astarion’s face and he wipes away the tears from your cheeks.

“Yes, my love,” he assures you, “I am here and I am not going anywhere.”

You nod your head, emotional and tearful.

He climbs into bed behind you and pulls you to his chest- leaving a trail of soft kisses up your neck and behind your ear. You hum happily and your chest glows.

He came back, you think, he came back and he never left. Never even intended on leaving again.

“What are you thinking about?” He whispers, neither one of you wishing to wake Eowyn.

You aren’t sure if you should share your thoughts. You don’t want him to think you don’t trust him or make him upset and have him actually leave.

“My love,” he begins, “I am sorry I scared you and Eowyn.”

“You didn-“

“Tav,” he says softly, but firmly, “don’t lie. I know I scared you and I know I scared her. I am not fragile, neither is our love, and I am sorry.”

You begin to cry again- your whole body is racked with them. Maybe you hadn’t gotten over him leaving yet. You really thought you had worked past it, but it’s like you are experiencing all the pain from when he first left and told you he wanted you to die screaming. It’s like a massive hole has been punched into your chest.

You feel him hold you tighter to him and you only cry harder, the pain from the past and the day has taken it’s toll on you. He whispers apologies into your ear and leaves gentle, sweet kisses.

“I promise- I am never going to leave you like that again,” his own voice cracks with unshed tears, “I will never abandon you again.”

You shake your head, trying so hard to not make him feel like he has to stay.

“I don’t want you to feel like you have to,” your voice comes out like a hopeless whine, “I don’t want you to feel trap-“

He interrupts you with a deep, long kiss. You nuzzle your nose against his and the sigh of happiness that leaves his mouth warms your aching heart.

“I want you to throw both of those thoughts away,” he wipes away your tears, “I am exactly where I want to be and that will not change. I love you and I love Eowyn- I love our family and our life together.

“You have given me a gift, a wonderful, beautiful gift,” he smiles at you, “thank you- I won’t forget it nor will she ever let me.”

You both lay there in each other’s embrace- Astarion continues to assure you that Eowyn is okay and you finally agree to take a bath together before taking a nap. You both still smell like baby spit up and some intimacy is needed.

Astarion basically already has the bath drawn by the time you get to the bathroom. He insists on washing your hair and your body before you wash him.

Astarion rubs your stressed muscles and the tightness in your shoulders away with his touch. You feel like you could fall asleep and know what peace feels like for once.

“Does this feel good, my Love?”

You hum happily, his fingers now massaging your scalp and making sure every inch is covered in soap and the tight dehydration headache seems to go away as he continues his ministrations. You feel bad that you aren’t helping him, but you wouldn’t even know where to begin and your body is so tired.

Astarion begins to trail sweet kisses up your neck- hoping to continue lulling you to sleep and he knows when you are already sleepy that kisses like this help to relax you. You could melt into him- truly.

“You are still a bit feverish,” he nuzzles his face into your neck, “how do you feel?”

You hum lazily, “achey, tired, but happy. I am very happy.”

You feel him smile against your skin and he regales you with his hunt from the day, bragging about the amount of bandits he was capable of taking down on his own. You add dramatic gasps and cheers- he gripes that you aren’t taking him seriously (he has taken to calling you his silly goose lately so who isn’t taking who seriously?), but you also can tell he adores it.

At some point, you do eventually wash him. You are slow and a bit lazy, but you focus on cleaning his blood stained hair, making sure there isn’t any left. He is worried about Eowyn seeing and being scared. He said he needs to apologize to her as well and he must look presentable.

You haven’t noticed him staring up at you, admiring your entire body against his and your face as you concentrate.

“I love you,” he whispers, “I love you so much.”

You look down at him with surprise and smile brightly.

“I love you so much!” You place a chaste kiss on his lips before returning to your work. “And I am very jealous of how silky your hair is.”

“You should be- my hair is the best, after all.”

“I know- I am grateful that Eowyn has your hair and not mine.”

Astarion seems to chuckle to himself, his restless hands begin tracing shapes and running up and down your body. It doesn’t feel sexual in nature, more like he is committing you to memory.

“200 years,” he murmurs.

“What?”

“I spent 200 years of suffering under Cazador,” he says softly, “I was getting ready to give up. I was really considering walking out into the sun and freeing myself of him forever.

“Then I am bringing someone to him and we are kidnapped by those tentacle-eyed freaks. I thought my life was truly over and I would never truly know what it feels like to be happy. Safe.

“I hate to give any meaning to my suffering because there was not, but I am grateful that after 200 years of pure shit- I get to be here with you. In our home- safe, in love, a father, and so incredibly happy. I can scarcely believe it some days.

“My time with you- now and every second moving forward is and has been the counterweight to it all. You are the counterweight to it all, my Love.”

You are stunned- a few stray tears falling down your face and your smile feels tooth rotting sweet. It makes you feel good to know that you have brought so much happiness to his life. At one point you thought you had truly destroyed his life after he left you there in Cazador’s Dungeon.

You are grateful that he doesn’t regret Ascending. You don’t know what you would do if he did.

“Marry me?” He whispers, his voice shaking and nervous.

You think you may have heard him incorrectly. Did he just… propose?

“W-what?”

“Marry me, please,” he begs, you think for a moment you see a flash of worry in his eyes like you may reject him, “I will do whatever I need to to show you I am serious about you, about us, and our family if that is what you are concerned about I-

“Yes!” After your brain digests everything he said and you accidentally interrupt him in your excitement, “yes one hundred times over!”

You feel sparked to life- all the tiredness in your bones becomes less noticeable and he pulls your face to his, kissing you deeply with no intentions of stopping any time soon.

Your hands explore each other as if you are both touching each other for the first time. It’s slow and wonderful- you have been with each other in this sense before, slow and soft sex, but this feels entirely different.

His thumb teasingly rolls your clit while he slides a finger inside of you- a wanton moan escapes your lips and your eyelashes flutter as he prepares you to take him. His other hand is gripping your hair to keep your lips on his- the punishing pace he keeps as he scissors his fingers inside you and stimulates your g-spot. His thumb never stops it’s relentlessly teasing and you almost feel embarrassed by how eagerly you pant against his mouth with pleasure.

“You are being so wonderful for me, my Sweet,” he nips your lower lip, “I want to be inside you- do you feel ready for that?”

You nod eagerly- you have been healthy and cleared for sex for a couple weeks now, but he had been far, far too afraid which you respect immensely. You have been dreaming about connecting with him on this level again though- it’s intimate and important.

Love and loyalty- a bond that cannot be broken and your bodies fit together like a puzzle piece.

Astarion slowly thrusts up into you and you meet his hips half way down. You moan and whine against each other’s lips. He pinches your sensitive nipples and he smiles into your mouth when you gasp- breaking the intense make out session between you. You can feel your breast milk drip down his fingers and he makes you watch him lick his fingers clean.

He peers up at you as if asking permission to drink and your lashes flutter as you consider what he is asking.

You nod shyly and his smile is wide, his eyes almost hungry.

The cold, wet feeling of his tongue against your sensitive nipple and a single, hard thrust into you makes a cry of pleasure fall from your lip. Astarion begins to drink from your breast- tongue, teeth, and lips- and you clutch the back of the bathtub as he indulges.

Strings of curse words and praise leave your mouth as he continues- eventually moving onto the other and you watch in awe as his looks up at you. Astarion’s pupils are blown with lust and desire- his eyes are drunk and exhilarated from your blood and breast milk.

His hands settle on your hips and begins pulling your thrusts to meet his harder. You feel dizzy and lightheaded- blood and breastmilk drips from you and into the water below. Astarion releases your nipple and your head falls into the crook of his neck. You muffle your moans by singing them into his shoulder. One of your hands finds purchase in his hair and the other explores his torso and neck.

“Gods you are perfect,” he growls against your lips, “in every single way- you are perfect.”

He ruts into your sex relentlessly and the gentle kisses between you become sloppy and needy. You feel your orgasm wash over your body in a wave of pleasure and you giggle happily when he fills you with his seed.

The sloppy kisses are still lazy and needy, but in a far gentler way. Both of your hands are entangled in the other’s hair and never ever want this to end.

Unfortunately, crying from Eowyn interrupts your moment alone before you can even think about further aftercare protocol.

Astarion groans, putting his head back and pouting.

You laugh, readying yourself to get out of the tub, “our child would be a total cock block.”

“Yes, well,” he says, pulling you back into the water, “she will not be a ‘relaxation’ block either, my Dear,” he presses a chaste kiss to your lips, “you continue to enjoy yourself and I will take care of Eowyn.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want you to feel alone.”

“How could I?” He says with a large smile, “my fiancé is just in the other room and our daughter is very good company.”

Fiancé.

You are smiling ear to ear, even before Astarion gets out of the bath and gets dressed. You can’t help but admire how beautiful he is as he gets out and he wiggles his eyebrows at you.

“Like what you see, my Darling?”

“Oh, I certainly do,” You hum in approval, “and I just love you for who you are in general.”

He is leaning over and pressing a kiss to your forehead after he slides on his shirt and his pants.

“It’s truly, disgustingly, wonderful how kind you are to me,” he says before pulling away, “it makes me want to be kind back.”

“Oh you are very kind, my Love,” Eowyn throws some kind of toy against her crib in frustration and you giggle, “it sounds like you are being summoned.”

You sink back into your bath and listen as Astarion’s muffled voice earns a squeal of happiness from Eowyn. You can hear him singing some song he made up on the spot- all filled with compliments for her- and your smile only grows wider.

Eowyn is going to have the healthiest self-esteem anyone has ever seen in their lives. Astarion would probably destroy the entire world if someone so much as looked at Eowyn wrong.

It warms your heart to know that, in spite of all the sadness those five months apart brought you, that it all ended up working out for the best.

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

“I am sorry I scared you, my adorable little menace,” he says softly, Eowyn’s crying had stopped abruptly upon seeing him and she started to shake before spitting up on herself.

It broke Astarion to see how afraid she was- she was even too scared to cry and be upset about the spit up dribbling down her face. He picks her up, aware of how tense she is before wiping her face gently. Eowyn’s golden eyes follow his every movement and she slowly relaxes as she realizes he isn’t upset anymore.

“I will never ever abandon you, my sweet little girl,” he promises, “I am so sorry- I love you so much and I am sorry I scared you. I hope you can forgive me.”

Eowyn probably doesn’t know what he is saying word for word, but she seems to understand enough and she gives him a gummy, drooly grin with a happy, high pitched cry. It’s probably one of Astarion’s favorite sounds and he loves her smile- adores it even.

“Eowynnnn with her beautifulll eyes and her wonderfulll smileeee,” he sings lazily, “you are the greatest thingggg in this worlddddddd and so issss your motherrrrrr.”

He keeps singing his weird song- he doesn’t know when he became an idle singer, but Eowyn enjoys it very much and in turn, he has come to enjoy it.

Astarion grabs a fresh pair of clothes for Eowyn and goes to the kitchen. He fills the sink with water and sets up the weird contraption that Shadowheart gave them to put in the sink. It’s supposed to keep her from being submerged under the water, but Astarion is still skeptical.

He continues to rock her until the water is ready and it seems like he submerged the lower half of the tub seat just enough for her. Eowyn goes into it happily- not even blinking when she is in the water. You have bathed her a few times already and Eowyn really likes her baths. Today, it seems to also help with soothing her tummy.

Astarion washes every single one of her curls with care and precision- gently untangling any knots and providing lots of praise when one is particularly difficult to untangle and he has to be a bit more aggressive than he would like. She is a champion through the whole thing, lazily looking up at him as she sucks on her binkie.

Shadowheart had given him a mint elixir to help soothe her upset tummy and it seems to have worked very well- there is no more odd stomach grumbling from her and she seems relaxed. He will definitely be keeping this on hand for the future.

She is basically asleep again when he begins to rub grape seed oil into her skin so that it stays moisturized and puts her in, what he argues are, her favorite pair of pajamas (his reasoning is definitely NOT because he bought them…).

Astarion thinks about bringing her upstairs and putting her to sleep in the crib before taking a nap himself, but he isn’t ready to part with her. He hurt her feelings and he wants to rectify this- for his own sad feelings and hers.

You are already asleep in your shared bed when he gets upstairs and Astarion gently lays down on his back, putting Eowyn on his chest and she falls asleep with her ear pressed where his heartbeat should be. You naturally curl up next to him too and Astarion has never felt more full of happiness in his entire life.

At one point, laying still and not being able to move would have been torture. Now? Astarion lets his mind wander into bliss as he listens to both of your heartbeats and soft snores.

#astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #baldurs gate astarion #baldurs gate 3 #astarion romance #astarion x you #astarion x f! reader #astarion x female reader #astarion x female tav #dadstarion #astarion ancunin

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blue--ingenue · 9 months ago

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Ominis Gaunt headcannons {Pt. 4}

Author's Note: when i'm trying to think of what to write i like to walk around spots in the game and think of what the characters would think/do. what would their favorite study spots be? do they have a favorite place to curl up with a book? etc. anyway, this came to me while i was walking around the slytherin common room. hope you enjoy :) and i'm starting a taglist for my Ominis headcannons series, so let me know if you'd like to be added :)

he knows most of the house elves by name. the Gaunts are notorious for their abuse of house elves, so most of the kitchen/cleaning staff steered clear of them for the first few weeks of his first year. then one day, when ominis was still getting used to the charm he used to see, he tripped over a one of the elves’ mop buckets. the young Gaunt’s face flushed bright red and he fumbled for his wand before pointing it directly at her. she froze in place and cowered, waiting for whatever punishment he would dole out, but none came

he stuttered out an incantation and flicked his wand in her direction - and the rag she wore dried instantly. confused, but still terrified, she remained frozen. young ominis apologized profusely, using the few spells he knew to clean up the mess. all the while he explained how he was having a bit of trouble maintaining the charm for extended periods

after the bucket was righted and the water had vanished from the floor, he helped her up and asked for her name. Niffy explained that few witches or wizards ever asked, and that she’d never had a student offer to help her, let alone with magic. he continued on his way, but Niffy made sure to tell every elf in the castle to keep a protective eye on young Ominis

not many students know this, but there are plenty of snakes that have made their home within the castle. while Ominis doesn’t enjoy speaking parseltongue, he likes that the snakes bring him gossip from around the school. when Sebastian asks how he seems to know everyone’s secrets and rumors, he replies that he simply listens more than he talks. (while this is true, the snakes’ rumor mill is mostly responsible). behind the walls and within the pipes, they hear everything about everyone (which means Ominis does, too)

this boy has managed to free nearly every house elf tied to the Gaunt name. when he first came to hogwarts his parents assigned one of the house elves to follow him around. he hated feeling coddled, but he knew his father would take his anger out on the house elf if ominis sent him back

there’s a trip to Hogsmeade for all of the first-years a few days after the sorting ceremony. the prefects break them into groups and give them brief tours of all the shops. at the end they’re given a few hours to roam before everyone returns to the castle for dinner. Anne and Sebastian, ever curious and looking for the greatest source of action, follow him from a distance. they know he’s a Gaunt. they’ve heard of his family’s reputation. nearly everyone in their year avoids him like the plague, but the twins don’t find him to be any different from their classmates (aside from the house elf that never leaves his side)

it turns out Ominis had taken out as large of a deposit as he could and had the galleons sent by post. his poor owl couldn’t carry the sack of gold, so he was told he could retrieve the coins at the post office. the twins watch as he nonchalantly shoves the equivalent of a year of Solomon’s earnings into a sack and enters Gladrags

naturally, they follow him. he purchases the warmest cloak in the shop, but doesn’t leave. puzzled, the twins watch as he asks Mr. Hill something and hands the coat back to him. he sizes up the house elf with a quick once-over before waving his wand over the garment. when he’s finished, the coat is ten times smaller than before. they watch in awe as young Ominis presents the clothing to his house elf, along with the sack of galleons

the house elf begins to weep, but Ominis merely kneels so that he can speak to the elf without tower over him. as the pair exit the shop, they hear him tell the elf to “be careful, and live well” before they embrace and the elf apparates away with a loud pop

the next day they introduce themselves, and the trio become inseparable

(Ominis’ father stops sending house elves to Ominis, but only after the young boy has managed to free half of their household staff)

Taglist: @caramel-hufflepuff, @fanfiction-she-wrote

#ominis x mc #ominis gaunt #ominis gaunt x reader #ominis gaunt x you #ominis gaunt x y/n #fluff #fluffy #angst #hurt/comfort #noctua gaunt

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blackseafoam · 2 months ago

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✨It’s not your fault✨

Cassian knew he was starting a fight he couldn’t win.

He walked down the empty brick road that opened up to the square, walled in on each side by familiar buildings. His breath shuddered in the cold as his pace quickened, leaving breath clouds trailing behind. The boy’s heart hammered, his sternum an anvil, vision blurry with red hot rage. He could feel the presence of Clem’s hanging body on the street side, though he could not bring himself to look again.

The Clone Troopers had noticed him, blasters cautiously pointed as he made his approach.

Now at a full sprint, Cassian hefted his makeshift weapon over his head and used all of his momentum to try and hit one of the soldiers wherever he could.

The trooper on the far left reached out and pushed the kid over. The swing of the club went wide and hit one of them on the vambrace, leaving a significant dent. Cassian’s back slammed on frozen brick street with a meaty thud, knocking the wind out of his lungs. He curled in on himself and tried to catch his breath, as the three troopers stood over him. One leaned down and cuffed the collar of his jacket in case he tried to make an escape, but the boy wasn’t moving for the time being.

“Command, we have a situation on Rix road, some kid just ran up and tried to hit us with a pipe.” One of the clones said into his helmet comm. A moment of silence passed as he listened to his orders, he nodded and turned to his comrades. “They said we need to… teach him a lesson and send him home.”

Cass’s breath was just starting to return to him as the three men loomed over him, the one holding his jacket lifted him up to a limp standing position.

The Andor’s apartment felt vacant, even with Maarva’s closest friends there to support her. A hollow space where Clem should’ve been standing. As she sat on her chair in the living room, it was easy to think that maybe he was just out of sight in another room. Maybe he was tinkering away at his desk while it seemed the entire town of Ferrix had come and gone all day, braving the icy walkways to bring their condolences.

When the door opened again she was expecting more visitors, not her son covered in blood, shivering and crying.

“Cassian!” Everyone leapt to their feet, even B2EMO rolled over as quickly as he could. Maarva led the boy to a seat and began looking him over.

“What happened to you C-C-Cassian?” The droid stuttered.

Cassian looked down “I… I wanted to make them sorry… for what they did to Clem.” His cheeks flushed and he shivered, clutching his arm closer to his chest. “I know it was stupid.”

Maarva sighed as she wiped the blood off his face with antiseptic gauze. Her intense worry and grief had softened. “That certainly was stupid.” She gave Cass a knowing look with the ghost of a smile.

“I’m sorry.” He winced as she cleaned a gash on his chin.

“It’s okay Kassa, I understand. It’s okay to be angry, it’s okay to want to do something about it. I’m angry too.” Maarva set the cloth down and grabbed a pair of shears, she got to work cutting away his jacket sleeve to inspect his arm. “But you could have been killed, and then I would have lost both of my boys in the same day.” Her voice choked on the end of her sentence.

“I’m sorry Maarva.”

“It’s okay Kassa”

“No, it’s not.” He sniffed and tried to hold still as the adrenaline was slowly being replaced by white hot pain in his wrist. “I could’ve stopped him. I could have told him to stay with me. I could’ve-“

“No.” Maarva put her shears down on B2’s head with a metallic snap, using the droid as a makeshift table for the first aid supplies. “Don’t ever blame yourself Kassa. It is not your fault.”

Kassa looked down at his unsleeved arm and saw just how bad the break was for the first time. His face went pale and all he could do was sob as Maarva pulled him into her embrace. They both shook as they cried.

“C-C-Cassian your arm is bent the wrong way! We mu-must find you a mechanic.” B2’s head tilted with concern and the supplies went clattering to the ground.

Maarva sighed and gave her son one more squeeze before she straightened. “He’s right, let’s get you to that mechanic before it starts to hurt worse.” She patted his shoulders before she let go and went to the door.

Cassian couldn’t even imagine his arm hurting worse than it already did, but didn’t argue as he stood and followed Maarva as she donned her heavy yellow duster jacket.

Their bootsteps echoed off the alley walls as they walked. “You should see all the treats that got dropped off today.” Maarva smiled as she squeezed her arm around Cass’s shoulder. “When we get back we’re going to sample every single one until we’re absolutely sick.” She laughed and shook his shoulder. “Does that sound good?”

Yes, that did sound good.

A.N.- I had absolutely no intentions of writing anything when sat down to post this art today. I’m rewatching Andor at the moment and completely forgot how much I LOVE Maarva and her monologue in e7. Also I am approaching my rewatch from an emotion-focused perspective, rather than action-focused like I was during my first watch, and it really packs a whole different punch. Examining what each character might be thinking rather than just following the plot. The amazing introspective moments that are told through the cinematography alone, just wonderful. Gushing over, my fingers are tired.

#whumptober2024 #no.20 #emotional angst #shoulder to cry on #it’s not your fault #star wars andor #art #fic #broken bone #blood #grief #my art #star wars #andor #maarva andor #cassian andor #tw broken bone #b2emo

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gcnorthwest · 2 years ago

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fujii-draws · 6 months ago

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Hi I just wanted to say that I love Ribbons and Aimilios so much, they're so cute and sweet!!!

May I make a humble request for Ribbons and Amilios fluff,,,

I must know these dweebs are happy and would love to hear how they eventually fell for eachother!!!

AAA!! I’ve thought about this ask so much. And I’m happy to finally deliver!!!

——————

Ironically enough, Ribbons and Aimilios didn’t start out as ‘great friends’ from the jump.

Unlike main game. After Aimilios convinces her to join Wigglytuff’s guild on a whim, their relationship is… well.

Firstly, Aimilios tends to get slightly annoyed by Ribbon’s lack of preparation. Laziness. And hasty behavior. Feeling like she isn’t taking his dream as seriously as he thought she would.

And Ribbons— doesn’t like Aimilios for his stick-in-the-butt, teacher’s pet attitude. And how he never trusts her with things like the treasure bag/map. Constantly putting the load on himself, leaving her with nothing to do.

They still are on good terms! They do enjoy certain aspects of eachother! It’s just that they also dislike other aspects of their partner. Which; results in Ribbon’s teasing of the Riolu. (Playing ‘keep-away’, hiding certain items to get on his nerves.) Which was in good fun in hopes to lighten him up more. That isn’t to say it wasn’t mean-spirited at times.

And Aimilios in turn; rats on her whenever she becomes too troublesome to deal with. His clean-freak nature also causes him to misplace a lot of her items— (Which, Ribbons looked almost ready to bite Aimilios when her brown Patsy bow went missing.)(Until he told her where he put it, deciding to nip him another day.) And in-general their relationship starts on a rocky start. And why they fail so many jobs in the beginning due to their lack of coordination and teamwork.

They like eachother enough to work together… but not to see eye-to-eye. Aimilios starts to wonder if asking Ribbons to join him was a mistake… and that her heroism at Beach Cave was a major fluke.

…until Drowzee kidnaps Azurill.

Aimilios was Frozen when confronted with the hypnosis Pokémon. An outlaw? And not only that— a Psychic type? The Riolu was nothing short of terrified. That is, until Ribbons piped up. Barking towards the criminal with not a single drop of fear in her voice. This, in turn give the Aura Pokémon the confidence to fight back aswell.

(…This is also When their first really positive interaction happens, Aimilios being the one to reciprocate Ribbons joking-tendency with a jab of his own. Stating how starving she must be for her stomach to growl like an Ursaring. Till his stomach does aswell, making both young Pokémon’s laugh.) (And later that night when they’re in their haybeds, he whispers how brave/cool she was today.)

(Which makes Ribbons face light up, before trying to play it off like ‘Yeah that’s cool.’ Until her tail betrays her—giving away how happy that compliment made her. Just from the sheer velocity alone.) (She tells Aimilios to shut up when he laughs at the endearing display.)

After that… they start to trust eachother a little more. Aimilios shares more items with her. Lets her lead more Job Requests, snitching on her less. Actually even aiding her in mischievous/morally questionable activities, like steal A/S Rank jobs.

Chatot is super strict about what Jobs they take as junior Explorers—Aimilios only agreeing because he wants to prove himself. He feels the rush of adrenaline when they escape the Guild with their newfound jobs, Ribbons patting him on the back and ‘welcoming him to the dark side’.

“If Chatot catches us, we’ll never hear the end of it.” The breathless riolu stated. Looking over to his partner, who had a toothy grin plastered on her face.

“Then we won’t get caught.” Ribbons responded with confidence. Playfully placing her paw on his snout.

“Cmooon—That birdbrain won’t know what hit him! As long as you don’t tattle!~”

“…You’re a horrible influence.” The Riolu huffed out, smiling despite his backhanded comment.

On the flip side, Ribbons stops stealing items away from the Aura Pokémon as much like she used to. (She’s still teasing the ballocks out of him. Only difference being that she knows when to stop when it actually starts to upset him.) (The Riolu is still sticking his tongue out in retribution to the Eevee’s crimes. >:<.) (She blows a raspberry back >:3)

And… they start to notice certain things they really like about the other.

Ribbons loves how intelligent Aimilios is. The reason she was so butthurt towards him the first time…was because she was jealous. He was clearly the brains of their little rag-tag duo. She still doesn’t know why Aimilios chose her as his partner. He could do so much better. She also adores how he’s able to be gutless and quick-witted despite his fears. In Ribbons eyes—That’s bravery. Not the dumb, ‘Fuck-it-we-Ball’ mentality she has.

Something else she likes but can’t wrap her head around with the type of Pokémon they meet, is his kindness. She doesn’t know how he does it. Or why he’s able to tolerate so many of their clients. Ribbons… also views that as another strength he had, but she lacked— Arcues knows how short-tempered the Eevee was. And certain Pokémon began to take advantage of Aimilios . Which makes Ribbons extremely protective of him—standing protectively infront of the riolu during fights despite her size. (Around this time; Team skull.) She hates those punks so much. Ohhh do they make her blood boil.

She feels her heart twisting into knots when she sees Aimilios lost all sparkle in his eye. Only dejectedly laying on his haybed with sunken pupils as he lost the opportunity to join the expedition. The Eevee secretly wishes him a goodnight, brushing his fur with her tounge. Before returning to her bed. Praying that he’ll get picked—even if it meant giving up her spot if she got in.

And Aimilios… hoo boy.

Much like in-game, he’s enamored by how fearless she is. How she’s able to speak her mind to the largest and strongest of Pokémon. (You should’ve seen his face when she insulted The Great Dusknoir straight to his face.) He draws a ton of strength from her. He wouldn’t even be accomplishing his dream if it wasn’t for her.

Something else he loves about her… is her jokes. She has some of the most cornball humor to grace the Grass-continents. You can hear the entire guild groaning whenever she makes one.

So imagine to Ribbon’s surprise when she turns to face her Riolu partner one day— covering his mouth with his paws with tears in his eyes. Trying so desperately not to laugh. (She makes it her mission to make his ass laugh and admit to her face that she’s funny.)(It’s an on-going gag even after evolution.) And overall just how infectious her silly, carefree attitude is.

(She’s also the reason why he stops being so much of a people-pleaser. Aimilios didn’t notice it at first, but squabbling and being frustrated with her at times in the beginning… it helped him grow a bit of a spine.)

And that’s when the seeds of their friendship and other feelings begin to sprout.

During their first Expedition with Bidoof, Ribbons sees first hand just how much Aimilios is growing— taking more of the lead and being in charge. Not because he doesn’t trust her— but because he’s gaining confidence for himself. (Her cheeks do not become tinted with pink when she witnesses this.)

And when Aimilios is mere moments away from fleeing from the Groudon-illusion. He sees Ribbons start to grin. Exclaiming how she’s been itching for a real fight. (Which also doesn’t make him fluster up like a Red Gummi. Nope. Natta.)(That’s his hubris-filled maniac and no one else’s.)

And… they mutually get flustered watching the Volbeat Geyser. Aimilios exclaiming just how beautiful it is while Ribbon’s eyes lock on him—Before she laying her head on his shoulder. Making the startled Riolu look her way. Before carefully closing the distance, wrapping his arm around her.

(The guild members absolutely tease those two mercilessly for that display when trecking back to the Guild, and a few more days afterwards.) (Aimilios covers his face in embarrassment while Ribbons tells them to screw off.)

After the expedition to Fogbound Lake— their teamwork and rapport improve drastically. Being able to take on a number of jobs like that hadn’t before. Thanks to their newfound coordination and ability to be on the same wavelength. Complimenting eachother on a job well done.

They do little gestures for eachother to show the other how much they care. (Aimilios helps organize her Treasure bag with permission. Studying Unown runes/Gatekeeping duty. Patching her up from bad jobs.) (Very adamant about the last one.) (Scolding her for barely taking care of herself. Not noticing her staring at him adoringly.)

While Ribbons tends to spare him from particularly mean jokes. Getting actively frustrated towards Pokémon who treat Aimilios slightly wrong. Grooming him with her tongue during nights at the Guild. (He’s so focused on guild work that he forgets to take care of himself.)

The flaws they once detested about the other become things they now love about one another.

Ribbon’s laziness evolves into her teaching Aimilios to relax. Aimilios’s judgmental views are now more worrisome things he notices; asking Ribbons to exercise caution whenever she takes a job alone.

Ribbons listens to the riolu go on and on about a certain book he’s reading with stars in his eyes, gazing softly towards the aura pup. Aimilios listens to all of her bad jokes, barely stifling his laughter around her.

Aimilios watching lovingly at her ability to make connections with other Pokémon effortlessly, even with how dumb she feels.(He wishes he wouldn’t call herself such things.) While Ribbons loves just how intellectual he is, not minding his trouble with looking Pokémon in the eye.

They enjoy eachothers company so much. Becoming nearly nigh inseparable. Going from two, squabbling kids. To being attached to the other’s hip. Substituting for their partner’s weaknesses with their strength. Almost in a Yin-Yang fashion. (Opposites attract afterall ;3)They become co-dependent. (Which is very much a flaw… but it’s the one they never grow out of.)

And After that…! Aimilios is the first one the catch feelings! Mainly bc Ribbons is denser than the Relic Fragment tied around the Aura Pokémon’s neck. Wondering if some divine intervention was punishing him. That and Ribbons just thought she saw Aimilios as a really good friend as the explanation for why she felt fuzzy around him. (I’m not joking.)(You underestimate her singular braincell.)

The aura pup goes to Dusknoir for advice. Trying to be as VAUGE as possible towards the ghost-type when referring to certain ‘Pokémon A’ that ‘Pokémon B’ (which is NOT Aimilios.) would like to get to know better.

Dusknoir immediately catches on, finding this literal case of ‘puppy love’ to be endearing. (And absolutely entertaining.)(He promises to not tell a soul, with Aimilios responding ‘I-I didn’t mean anything by it!! Why are you swearing secrecy on something totally not connected to me—!’)

Although Ribbons is oblivious— her watching Aimilios nearly get murdered by Grovyle made her feel upset. Really upset. Watching him barely breathe while Dusknoir carried the two of them… Ribbons with the last on her strength crawled over to him (Much to the wraith’s dismay, imploring her to not hurt herself.) …Before she curls into him, sniffling a little.

No one else but Dusknoir is able to detach the tearful Eevee from her partner. The cloaked specter only having done so to make sure the Riolu was healed and patched up properly. (That didn’t stop the Eevee from crying out for her partner in her sleep.)(…The ghost-type gently brings the Riolu to her haybed—Ribbons immediately curling into and purring.)

And then they’re dragged into the Paralyzed future. Where their friendship is heavily tested.

The two don’t say anything at first, but hold slight resentment towards one another, mainly towards Ribbons not using her D.Scream, and Aimilios not using his aura sensing/sharing so much information with that damned ghost.

So when looking at the stockade lights, an argument breaks out. Just a screaming match between two terrified kids that want nothing more than to escape the hell they’ve been forced into.

They go back and forth, back and forth on who’s to blame. Until Aimilios’s angry screams slowly transform into uncontrollable sobs. Telling Ribbons that she was right and it was his fault. Ribbon’s heart nearly shatters as she watches Aimilios fall to the ground holding himself.

She immediately rushes to now, sobbing riolu. Telling Aimilios that she was being stupid and she only snapped in anger— begging for him to stop crying. Because if he does, then sh-she’ll…

She pulls him into a hug. Aimilios clings onto her like his life depended on it— with the Eevee embracing her partner so tightly. Muttering apologies like a broken record. The scene goes about the same, the only other change being how Ribbons looks back towards the way they ran from. Staring at the abyss-like cavern in fear of the ghost-type pursuing them. (She shakes it off. She can’t afford to be scared. She has to be strong. For him.)

So Ribbons continues to protect Aimilios during their run from the revenant they trusted. Constantly picking him up, getting infront of him to take hits during dungeons, etc. and it helps Aimilios… continuing to draw strength from his partner. (Even when he’s begging her to stop nearly getting herself maimed in the dungeon. Which falls on deaf ears; Both Pokémon exchanging somewhat bitter glances.)

So how hilarious is it when Aimilios watches Ribbon’s back away in fear for the first time. Being completely frozen just like the time in the future. Unable to retort anything Dusknoir said. Being reduced to tears. Her ears pinning back as her pupils dilated to cat-slits. Breathing heavily as the open clearing spun from vertigo.

Oh how hysterical! Oh how simply entertaining it was to the ghost-type!!

But Aimilios wasn’t laughing.

Not one bit.

He gets infront of his now, trembling Eevee partner; angrily baring his fangs about how they weren’t Dusknoir’s puppets— before yelling loud enough that his scream emenanted an aura. An Aura large enough that made Dusknoir flinch, and even Primal Dialga react—squinting annoyedly towards the pup.

(If Aimilios took a quick glimpse from behind—he would’ve seen a glossy-eyed Eevee, staring up at him in complete awe.)

That same night when they returned to the present— Ribbon’s had a nightmare about Dusknoir. Waking up in a cold sweat as a voice called out so desperately for her. She opens her eyes, only to be greeted with a very worried-looking Riolu.

She takes a moment to process why Aimilios looked so worried, before it all came back to her, every horrible word she spouted towards her precious partner. And how he was still trying to see if she was okay after everything she said. Ribbons cries her heart out—Aimilios now being the one to hold his tearful partner.

When she’s finally shed her tears… the Riolu offers to let her sleep in his haybed for the night. Ribbons hesitates, before nodding silently. Not wanting to use her voice in fear of blubbering again.

Sharing the haybed was a good idea from the way Ribbon’s clung to Aimilios— almost immediately sleeping in the comfort and safety of her partner’s arms. While Aimilios is looking at her… it hits him all at once. How small she is. How fragile she is. Even with how brave the sleeping fox was. He saw her terrified for the first time.

Just how many times did she help him? How many nights had Ribbons listened to him. Comforted him. Gave him confidence. And exactly how many times did he repay the favor…?

This epiphany only makes the Riolu hold onto the frail Eevee even tighter.

Ribbons senses this change when she feels Aimilios is the one starting to take as many hits and she does for him. Confidently asking to lead the party at times as to make the load easier on her. And… it nearly clicks. Ribbons nearly figures out her weird, fuzzy emotions. But keeps suppressing them; save the world first— then weird butterflies in tummy!

And it’s When Ribbons is disappearing— it’s in that moment she finally realizes her feelings towards the aura pup. But…

Rather than making the grand gesture of revealing how she truly felt— she bites her tongue. Hard. Was she really going to make her goodbye even harder on Aimilios? After what she pulled? After lying to him?

…even after she returns. She never tells him. In Ribbons eye’s? She lost her opportunity the second she hurt Aimilios. So much. with her stupid sacrifice. With her stupid words towards the stressed pup in the future. Not feeling worthy of being anything more with the Riolu out of guilt.

(That, plus Future Trio returning adds a bunch more to their plate before they can figure it out.)

Speaking of Which, they act as wing-Pokémon for the two, the three older mons almost playing a game of Cupid with Ribbons and Aimilios. (With Ribbons gaining help from the two grass-types, and Aimilios from the ghost.)(Those three see how much those two are holding back from one another and by the legends they are going to help these kids.)

It takes an absurd amount of time. But…

Ironically enough? The one who’s braver enough to take the first step… is Aimilios.

He asks Ribbons to walk with him towards the Beach, the same one where their journey began. Aimilios also no-so-subtly waited to make his confession when the Krabby blew bubbles. (Ribbons stares at him knowingly and smugly.)(He tells her to ‘B-be quiet—!’ and listen to what he has to say.)

And it’s just… the most corniest love confession. Everything about it. The setting. The bubbles… it’s so overly cheesy and sentimental. Just like Aimilios.

And Ribbons feels her smile faltering more and more when he goes on— before she starts crying unexpectedly. Aimilios asks what’s wrong— hoping for them to be happy tears rather than sad ones. And unfortunately; It’s the latter.

Ribbons tells Aimilios to not waste his time on her. To find someone better—someone who won’t hurt him. She spills her guts about why she was so hesitant to confess for so long.

“…You’re afraid.”

“E-eh..?! I-I mean…” Ribbons looks away, her tail coyly rubbing the side of her shoulder. “I guess…”

“T-then don’t be..!” The Riolu declared— hovering his fists infront of his chest. “I-I want you to be brave..! Be—“

“The bravest ever.” It was astonishing how the two Pokémon read eachother’s mind— finishing the sentence Aimilios begun in unison.

After that I have a little animatic idea in the tune of ‘Best Worst Mistake’ with those two. Which near the end of it… ends with the Aura Pokémon picking up Ribbons and spinning her— to then connect foreheads.

Only for a cyan light to wrap around the two Pokémon… what emerges from it, being a Sylveon and Lucario.

Seeing themselves evolve at the same time… they laugh with tears in their eyes. Ribbons tackles the hell out of Aimilios as their limbs are entangled on the same beach they met. Tails wildly wagging as they embrace eachother. Not minding the sand getting stuck to their fur.

…Future Trio is witnessing all of this happen in real time. With Celebi nearly chuckling as she watches the grass and ghost-types be on the verge of tears.

The two Pokémon go to the trio hours later— telling them how it’s official. Grovyle puts his hands in the Sylveon’s shoulder’s—kneeling as he exclaims just how proud he is. On the other side of the bluff— Dusknoir is telling Aimilios the same thing— cupping the Lucario’s face in near tears. Bellowing out just how far the Lucario has come. (Ribbons and Aimilios Are NOT choked up by their gestures. They both have leftover sand in their eyes. That’s why they’re crying.)

Their relationship is still relatively the same. Ribbons being the same, playful and gutsy girl she is. Playing harmless pranks on her partner. Being overly protective of him, etc. While Aimilios remains the clever pup that he is. Letting Ribbons gnaw on him arm whenever she gets bite-y, keeping track of their shared items. Cleaning her matted tail and adding Garcedia flowers from Shaymin peak… That isn’t to say that their relationship is perfect— still finding themselves hitting bumps along the road and arguing. The main difference being that they’re more mature— and aren’t kids anymore. (It’s us vs the problem, not me vs you) type growth. (Even if it takes awhile to get there with the Lucario’s self-loathing issues.)

That being said, Ribbons loves PDA w/ Aimilios. Even when the poor Lucario flusters. (She stops when he’s about to turn as red as a Cherri Berry.)(That isn’t to say he’s being spared when they return to the bluff >:3)

Yet ironically enough, whenever they’re behind closed doors; it’s the reverse with Aimilios flustering her right back. He’s been able to do so at the start of Post-Game—The only difference being that he’s gotten much more consistent in finding the Sylveon’s weak points. (Ribbons hates him for it.)(How dare he use her own powers against her. She isn’t supposed to be the blubbering mess.)

(Also they begin to share their haybed in the beginning of post-game—Constantly waking the other up to protect them from their nightmare lest they have one.)(They never separated it since.)(…Well okay maybe ONE TIME but THATS FOR ANOTHER DAY >:3)

[Tl;dr: They squabble and get annoyed by eachother. Before they become overly codependent/protective of the other. A silly, unkept, mischievous Eevee/Sylveon—with her stressed-out, lanky, goody-two shoes Riolu/Lucario partner.]

(+ some old art I never shared for y’all’s troubles)

#I really wanted to say thank you for sending this ask bc it made me realize I didn’t have a set dynamic in mind-#-that made their relationship more interesting.#AND ALSO WANNA APOLOGIZE IF YOU JUST WANTED A SHORT EXPLANATION WITH SOME ART ATTACHED TO IT 😭😭 THIS ASK REWIRED MY BRAIN A BIT #pmd eos #Eevee/Ribbons #Riolu/Aimilios

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durrtydawg · 1 year ago

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hey gorl! idk how cereal you were about headcanons, but can i request something domestic? like what the uncharted boys are like when they're at home and not treasure hunting for once? (can be as clean/dirty as you like hehe)

Hey lovely! Thanks for waiting for so long, and sorry if this isn't what you had in mind, but I've spewed some domestic Sam headcanons into my notes that I think about too often. A lot of them are very random, so if you want something more specific, please let me know 👹❤️

I started writing Nate, too, but honestly, if you want some good Nate hcs, you should ask @nathandrakeisabottom bc she's gonna have them done to a T.

[Masterlist]

Without further ado,

Domestic Sam Drake Headcanons...

Sam likes to rotate his 'at-home wardrobe' between two pairs of ill-fitting jeans, raglan shirts, the odd henley, and a fuck tonne of minimalistic graphic tees with references that he has no clue about. Boots are abandoned for trainers. (- sneakers, for those who are anglo-challenged)

If it's cold-cold, he adds his trusty sherpa-plaid shirt combo.

If it's hot-hot, he opts for his slutty vests and perhaps some track shorts if he's feeling... frisky.

And fucking baseball caps. He wears them lots, and he wears them well. I do NOT make the rules.

Whenever the weather is good, Sam is outside working on his bike. Whether he's cleaning it, fixing it up, or just revving it for the attention, he'll be out there in aforementioned slutty little vest, cigarette hanging out of the corner of his mouth, tinkering away because he can't sit still for long at all.

When the weather isn't good, he's miserable. As soon as Winter rolls around, he contracts at least one cold a month, and whilst he gets surprisingly over dramatic about it, he also refuses to take any meds for it. Stubborn man.

Untidy- but never unclean. Being stuck in that grotty old prison for so long, it's clear that Sam wants nothing to remind him of his disgusting cell. He always cleans up after himself in terms of dirt and grime, BUT he's also become a bit of a hoarder, which also makes wherever he lives constantly untidy. Books, ugly little ornaments, and also clothes that he buys and never wears are scattered all over the place.

The idea of owning his own stuff remains seemingly overwhelming; he grows attached to whatever he gets his hands on because he's lived for so long without things of his own.

Continuing down the cleanliness route, Sam takes the longest showers you could imagine. The warmth? The privacy? They'll forever be luxuries to him that he wants to take complete advantage of.

Uses some sort of 250 in 1 body wash/shampoo/car brake fluid concoction, and is in complete refusal of the fact that he needs anything else... though once or twice his intrigue and thieving nature have gotten the better of him, and he's left the bathroom with an oddly feminine aroma that's dangerously similar to the scent of whatever it is his partner's using. Not that he'd ever use a girl's body wash.

Sam whistles around the house. A lot. Also sings quietly to himself throughout the day. He keeps it hushed, mostly, but for some reason, he thinks the shower is soundproof. Lucky for any cohabitors, he's got a pretty good set of pipes on him, and it's actually really sweet. ('We Didn't Start the Fire' by Billy Joel is one of his go-to's. He definitely brags about his ability to remember all of the words.)

He's a dab hand in the kitchen. Well. Sometimes. Sam's got a selection of about three dishes that he makes to Michelin star standard. Other than that he's fucking useless, which can be frustrating since he eats like an animal. Guys of his stature need fuel!

Many times has a frozen lasagna or a teaspoon that's been absentmindedly left in the microwave ended up almost burning the house down. Though, his mind is always in about six places at once, so you can't really blame the poor guy.

But those that he's good at? He's really good at. It's not often that he can be found in the kitchen with a tea towel strewn over his shoulder, four different pots and pans bubbling away on the stove, whilst he bops his head along to a crackly radio station, but when he is? You know you're in for a treat.

He can't scramble eggs for shit (he does it in the microwave and insists it tastes fine💀 it does not.) but can poach 'em good. Expect eggs benedict in the morning, or banana pancakes if you've got a sweet tooth. Not the type to eat brekkie? You are now.

Speaking of breakfast in bed:

Morning 👏 sex. Like... more than any other time of day. Sam wakes up with insane levels of energy in the morning, and the first two hours of his day are more productive than the other twenty-two combined. So if he's not out for a morning jog (eugh.) or busy finding out what recipe he wants to try out for breakfast, he's got it in you. End of. Perhaps you used to grumble about the time... but he's got a thing for your early-am laziness, and you've probably woken up with his head between your thighs more times than you can count. I suppose that feeds in to the somnoph1lia he's most definitely privy to.

That, of course, is not to say that he's exclusively into morning sex.

Is verrrry cuddly with partners when they're visiting or living together. Sam craves touch, so even if it's not a super committed relationship, lingering shoulder squeezes, resting his chin on your head whilst his arms are wrapped around your middle, and gentle strokes to the small of the back are staples- half the time he doesn't even realise he's doing them.

Overall, he’s one handsy bastard, and at his cockiest will take any opportunity he can to smack, squeeze, and even bite your ass if it's convenient enough, offering you nothing but a complacent grin when you try to snap at him. Best you save your moaning for the bedroom. He knows you love it.

Hear me out. He has a weird fascination with teleshopping channels. Not because he wants to buy any of it. Moreso because he enjoys criticising some of the ridiculous stuff they try to flog on there. With a mouthful of cereal, he'll be mocking whatever poor sod has a slot to sell their item, calling you to come and watch in hopes that you find it just as ludicrous as he does.

With TV in general, he has a very stereotypical 'dad' stance on it. Does the whole "what's this crap you're watching? Don't you wanna do something more productive with your day?", only to be glued to the screen within minutes, asking about characters and plot alike.

Unfortunately, this also includes Hallmark Christmas movies.

Sam loves loves LOVES 90's-00's british sitcoms (And no, that's not self-indulgent). I genuinely believe he would binge watch Father Ted and Peep Show happily, especially because he enjoys satire and absorbs the dry sense of humour like a happy sponge. He'd try to impress you with the accent too. Doesn't work.

Falls asleep on the sofa more than anywhere. Since he's often up at the crack of dawn, as soon as 5pm rolls around, he's yawning and 'resting his eyes'. That, and the fact that he finds it hard to get to sleep in bed unless he's totally fucked out. Something about being left alone with nothing but the view of the ceiling and his thoughts makes it difficult for him to switch off. Trauma, eh?

When he does sleep, though, he's precious. Definitely fidgets throughout the night, waking up all stiff because he's been in all sorts of weird positions. He doesn't snore... but he definitely mumbles in his sleep. And it's always nonsense.

Never plans a big groceries run. Sam's trips to the supermarket are solely made on an ad hoc basis, and every time he returns with something that definitely wasn't on the list, i.e. he'll go out to buy pasta but returns with a novelty kitchen timer shaped like a lemon, and a new wooden spoon because he doesn't like the turmeric stains on his current one.

Big porch dweller. Will idle away the hours smoking on his porch or balcony when he's exhausted all of his other options, and will draw little smiley faces on the railings with the burnt out end of the cigarette before throwing it away. Awh.

#sam drake #samuel drake #hehe asks #sam drake x reader #sam drake headcanons #uncharted

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