#i wish i could write a longer one but my hand is weak when it comes to writing digitally. also i fear it'd be even less legible. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

swordgrace · 2 months

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𝐅𝐎𝐎𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐇, 𝐅𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐄.

⠀ཾ༵ 𑁍┆ aegon ii targaryen x wife!reader.

SYNOPSIS: in the wake of his burning, aegon’s recovery is marked by rage and insecurities. he pushes you away, but it is your comforting embrace that he desires above all else.

anonymous request.

{ FORMAT: one-shot — requested by anon.

{ WORD COUNT: 7.4K.

{ WARNINGS: SMUT (mdni), hurt/comfort, post rook’s rest aegon, aegon isn’t a good person but he’s tormented, unstable marriage, talk of insecurities, wound/scar descriptions, p in v sex, unprotected sex, gentle sex, body worship (m & f receiving), lots of kissing & comfort/reassurance, very desperate aegon, begging, sub-ish aegon, reader is on top, riding/cowgirl, mutual orgasm, fingering (fem!rec), soft ending + aftercare

{ AUTHOR’S NOTE: This is my first time writing for Aegon, so please be gentle + any feedback/critique on his character is appreciated! He’s quite difficult to write for. Either way, I absolutely loved writing this, and I hope that you all enjoy it, too! As always, thank you for your continued love & support. ❤️

𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 — 𝐚 𝐟𝐥𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐬𝐨 𝐩𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐮𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐜𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐚 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝, 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐦𝐞𝐧 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐬𝐡 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐨𝐧𝐞. It spread its blazing roots to those cast within it, leaving them hideously scarred or deformed, or perhaps leaving them with nothing left at all.

Grand Maester Orwyle had said that your husband may never walk again — that he may never draw breath again.

The harrowing memory of soot-stained knights hauling your husband in on nothing more than a swath of linen tied to sticks, placing him gently onto your marital bed had haunted you for several weeks since its occurrence. You could recall the pungent scent of charred flesh, the ragged rasps of Aegon’s breathing, the labor and sweat of Maesters working tirelessly to save him.

It was the labored wheeze of his breathing that continued to linger within the recesses of your mind, a sound so hoarse and weak that you wondered if he would survive. Watching your husband become a shell of his former self was never pleasant — you wouldn’t wish it upon anyone, even your worst enemy.

Aegon showed a resilience that few thought him capable of — the will to survive, to endure and spite his brother served him well. Even if each breath made him ache and each step had rattled his bones, he continued to progress, showing an astounding level of improvement in a short amount of time.

Fire was the end of all things, but not for him.

The observant gazes of those denizens dwelling within the Red Keep often looked upon Aegon with despair, and perhaps pity — it was a pity that he despised, one that made him quiver with rage. He had been made a cripple by his brother, an undesirable.

No one would want him now — not even you, his resplendent wife, a dutiful creature who had solemnly stood by his side, even after his numerous sins he committed against you. He was burnt and ugly, half of his face marred by a web of scars, ear twisted, silvery hair missing on part of his skull.

It was contempt that fueled him now, and he continued to play the part of a wounded, forgetful dog whenever Aemond was near, but in the sanctity of his chambers, he cursed his brother to whatever Gods would hear him.

If they heard him at all.

With each passing day, Aegon regained strength, yet he used a cane to aid in his unsteady gait. He rarely emerged from his chambers, not wanting to be looked upon as if he were some wounded animal in-need of coddling. Wallowing within his own misfortune became commonplace.

You visited him each day when he was still unconscious, sitting by his bedside, holding his hand within yours, yet Aegon had convinced himself that you no longer loved him. What woman would sensibly love him, after everything he’d done? If you were intelligent, you would dissolve your marriage and find a new lover, cast him into the shadows where he belonged.

Aegon had forbidden you to see him for weeks now, likely out of his own fear of rejection, or seeing the horrified look on your face with his own eyes. Orwyle spoke of your tenderness, how you never left his side when he lay bedridden — he could scarcely fathom it, if he were honest with himself.

The evening was a dour one in King’s Landing, marked by the encroaching threat of war, and supposed riots that had broken out across the city. Aegon sometimes laughed to himself — Aemond never cared about the smallfolk nor their desires, and his former hand had discouraged him from catering to those less fortunate.

It gave him some twinge of satisfaction, knowing that he wasn’t that stupid — not as dull and thick-headed as so many believed him to be. The burden of being King had been forced upon him, even when he never wanted it, and so he had no choice but to simply adapt.

He molded himself to a role that never belonged to him anyway, attempting to fit himself into a puzzle that he was never in to begin with.

Acceptance — he had come to realize that perhaps, unseen forces had tarried and toiled to put him on a Throne that wasn’t his birthright. Even then, Aegon was still the King — but a broken one. Who would ever look to a shattered King for guidance, or to lead them?

Dusk blanketed the city, casting its shadow over the Red Keep, a starless sky — it was instead marked by the black haze of clouds that concealed all, even the moonlight. The Keep itself seemed wrought with tension, one that threatened to snap at any moment.

With Aemond on some warpath, the smallfolk calling for blood, and his own mother dismissed from the Small Council, part of him simply thrived within the chaos, the mess made by his younger brother. It was satisfying to know that even he was not fit to rule — not like he imagined himself to be.

His walk around the corridors had been cut short when he caught a glimpse of Aemond, with Orwyle taking him back to his chambers. Aegon could walk without assistance, yet the distance was never one of any merit.

Much of his unoccupied moments were spent drowning in Dornish Red, or perhaps the most surprising thing of all, reading. He was never the studious child — he preferred merriment and whoremongering over the study of High Valyrian and the histories. Being gnarled like this had forced his hand — perhaps he could still become a learned man.

The Kingsguard he had appointed were gone, sent to join the Night’s Watch or beheaded for insubordination — he had no friends here, nothing left except himself and his mind, still perfectly intact. Now, Aegon intended to sharpen what was left of it, if he could in such a short amount of time.

He spent many of his days in fear — fear of Aemond poisoning his drink or slithering into his chambers like the fanged viper that he was to torment him, or perhaps stick Aegon’s Dagger into his chest. There was time left still for his mad cunt of a brother to finish what he’d started.

As the doors to his chambers rattled, Aegon immediately grabbed the shortsword he kept alongside his cane, breathing becoming strained and heavy. “Who is it?” He barked, palm planted against the sturdy mahogany of his large table.

“The Queen, your Grace.” Ser Belgrave, one of the last decent Kingsguard left in the Red Keep, opened the door just enough for you to see your husband, alive and conscious. He stood watch for a beat, and then closed the doors behind him, leaving you alone with Aegon.

Aegon didn’t know what to say — he was rageful and bitter, and having you here to gawk at him did nothing to quell those feelings. He did admire you from across the room, taking in the plane of cerulean silk you wore, shrouded by a pale robe. Your eyes were indiscernible — he could not tell how you felt from where he sat.

You were, perhaps, the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes upon — and he had seen so many. He recalled when he first saw you in the Grand Sept in your wedding gowns, so shy and saccharine, like the first warmth of springtime. It wasn’t a union he cared for or desired, but duty demanded that he wed you, and you would give him heirs.

So much of his time was wasted in the arms of whores who cared for nothing save the size of his coin purse, when it all should’ve been dedicated to you — the last person who truly cared for him.

“Aegon,” There was not an ounce of reproach within your voice, and instead, it was all a breathy sigh of relief. You had only seen him in-passing, walking alongside Grand Maester Orwyle or Lord Larys Strong. He had not allowed you to see him fully, until now. “I …”

“Save your pity,” Aegon quipped, turning away from you as he turned inward upon his books, instead. Gods, he felt wretched for constantly causing you such agony, but he could not endure the sight of you seeing him. “Have you come to see the withered King?” He mumbled, voice riddled with disdain.

Aegon was not an easy husband — and your union had been fraught with strife, hallmarked by his love of whores and wine, his absence felt by you each and every moment. You had passed this off as reality — this was what marriage was, and you had no choice but to accept it or crack beneath the pressure.

Even now, you were willing to forgive him.

Instead, you gathered your skirts and inched closer, longing to look upon him again with your own eyes. He had always been a beautiful man, so handsome with those regal Targaryen features that it often stole your breath away — and that hadn’t changed.

“I missed you,” You confessed, and it made Aegon’s throat become unbearably thick. Tears stung his eyes, tears born of frustration, an inner hatred and disgust, a disbelief that you truly meant any of this. “I thought that I could stay with you this evening.”

“No,” Aegon retorted, voice trembling at the bottom of his throat as he shook his head. “I do not want you here. I forbid you from seeing me. What part of that do you not understand?” His rage swelled — but not at you. He was so angry with himself that it began to manifest in uncouth ways.

It stung you, but not as much as you thought. Aegon kept you away, pushed you out to arm’s length because he feared what you might think of him. Being beloved and liked by those around him, the desire for attention and adoration, was perhaps one of his greatest flaws. When he could not find validation, it was easy to find it with a whore instead, or in the simpleminded lickspittles.

If Dornish Red could talk, perhaps he would find whatever comfort he sought there, too.

He reached for his goblet of wine, hand unsteady as he held it to his lips, and even then, he looked absolutely pathetic when taking a swig. “I cannot even drink without looking fucking pathetic,” Aegon snarled, letting out a bark of humorless laughter. “I cannot walk without being gazed upon like a wounded animal.”

At last, you began to understand where this anguish came from, where it all manifested. As much as you pitied your husband for the tragedy that had befallen him, you admired his resilience, his desire to endure and push on, even if it was most unpleasant.

“Aegon …” As your soft palm reached to rest against his shoulder, he violently jerked away, recoiling as if it were you that had burned him. “I am here for you. We are still married — allow me to continue to be your wife.” You whispered, flinching when he let out a sardonic laugh.

The scars were everywhere, enveloping half of his body, still aching with a dull pain that he muddied with poultices and Orwyle’s draughts. Aegon refused to take Milk of the Poppy, enduring his agony in different ways, ones that many would consider to be harder.

“Gods, how cunning you are — you play the role of naivety so well,” Aegon hissed, attempting to pull himself up from his table, hand reaching for his cane. “I am burnt, I am disgusting, and I am a cripple. You are not here for me — I do not want your pity!” He growled, voice raising to a tempestuous level.

You did not press him further, but you could see the tears glistening within his lilac hues, spilling down his cheeks as he began to laugh. The sound was grating and hollow, devoid of any amusement — just emptiness. He used what momentum he had to stand, grip ironclad and white-knuckled around his wooden beam of support.

“Why must you continue to push me away, Aegon? Have you not done it enough?” You questioned, voice sharp and wrought with emotion, sentiments that you had been repressing for so long, for the entirety of your marriage. “Must I always justify why I want to be your wife? We are married — I love you.”

Aegon froze, tears spilling over his face, countenance one of complete and utter bewilderment. He could not discern if you were genuine or simply conniving, or if you were being true. You had told him that you loved him before, and he always cast it aside — maybe you had truly meant it all this time, and he was too indifferent to realize it.

His back was partially turned to you, as if warding you away from seeing him. Aegon had been made to think that he was a failure all his life, that he was insignificant, made to do nothing instead of act. Whenever he did act, it was impulsive and reckless, branded acts of stupidity.

Maybe the one thing he could do right was you — mend the divide, mend the bridge that had kept you distanced for so long.

That cold, bitter laughter soon dissipated into what were choked sobs, ones of despair — he had been holding himself together for so long, for the sake of the realm, for the sake of a family that cared so little for him. His body ached and trembled, and as much as he attempted to move away from you, he couldn’t.

The nearest settee happened to be where he fell, landing against the velveteen cushions, head hung in despair, body wracked with sobs. He was undesirable, undeserving of you and your love. He was some withered husk, a shell, a monster still dressing in the clothing of a King — he was nothing.

Yet, you made him feel like something.

Silently, you crossed the cold stone to join him on the settee, sitting at his side as you gingerly let your palm settle against his back. “You underestimate how much I still care for you, husband.” You whispered, caressing along his spine with a feather-light touch.

Aegon felt drawn to you, pulled into the warmth of your comforting fire, knowing that if there was still one person left in this world who cared enough, it was you. Tears stained his visage, leaving behind streaks of red, eyes wet with many left unshed.

“Why should you?” Aegon questioned, his voice beginning to lose the fury and rage it held before, and it was melancholy. Anyone would’ve asked themselves such a question, but you didn’t — you remained steadfast. “I have brought nothing but misery upon you.”

It was complex, his statement — you had been miserable for some time, but this tragedy that afflicted you both was something worth overcoming. You were beginning to see the true Aegon, the one buried beneath the weight of the crown, the weight of inferiority.

“There is still time for forgiveness.” Your words were poignant and soft, and they were enough to move Aegon to tears again. He sat there beside you, crying to himself, breaking down completely. You had never seen him like this before — and perhaps, it was long overdue.

The comfort you provided was one he so desperately sought, even if he felt so guilty. He hadn’t done anything to deserve this, to deserve you — and yet he welcomed the grace of your palm, the sound of your songbird’s voice, soothing him with your gentle smile.

He was ashamed for you to see him this way, a man lacking the strength of physicality, the strength to hold a shortsword. It often wavered within his grasp — he would never be able to protect you. His beloved dragon was left in ruins, recovering in the Dragonpit — everything he had that made him strong had been taken.

Aegon was terrified to look upon you in such close quarters, afraid to feel the bitter jab of rejection, the horror and abhorrence within your gaze as you found his scars. He dared not turn, only keeping the intact side bared to you, still perfectly handsome.

Orwyle had harkened this to some miraculous recovery, a sign that the Gods favored him — Aegon did not feel favored, nor did he feel that he deserved it. Whatever he used to think, that his father wheezed his last breath desiring him on the Iron Throne, was nothing more than a twist of words.

There was nothing miraculous or prophetic about him — he was a sad, drunken cripple left to rot.

As much as he commiserated over his woes and the foul hand dealt to him by his brother, Larys had convinced him to live out of spite — and you convinced him that being alive, even in this wretched state, was a reality that was worth seeking.

He nearly crawled away at the sensation of your fingertips brushing along his jaw, unmarred and unscathed by the garish tangle of scars. Aegon shivered at your embrace — he had gone so terribly long without it, wondering if he would ever feel it again.

“I remember when I saw you for the first time, in the Grand Sept — I thought that you were the most resplendent man that I had ever seen,” You crooned, feeling him nudge his cheek into your palm. You gently swiped away a stray tear beneath his eye. “You still are.”

Aegon scoffed — a bitter, vitriolic sound that made his breath turn hoarse for a moment. He found it incredibly difficult to believe you, to find any merit in what you said given the circumstances. Even if you still loved him, that did not include his horrific appearance.

Tears trickled down his face, ones that you collected with your thumb before he shook his head. “Do not patronize me,” He murmured, visage furrowing together. “You cannot mean any of that. Look at me,” Aegon hissed, only slightly turning towards you. “I am a loathsome creature.”

His misery was an understatement when it came to his appearance — he looked like some monster, gnarled and withered beyond recognition. Whenever he looked into the mirror, he screamed and raged until he fell, or perhaps lost his voice.

Any Targaryen was often regarded as beautiful — pale, platinum tresses and lilac hues, a countenance as regal and as beautiful as a god. He was nothing more than a cockroach, now. He couldn’t fathom that you still desired him in a conventional way.

With a soft, tender touch, your hand then moved to rest against his shoulder. “If there is a loathsome creature here, I do not see it,” You murmured, head canting to one side. “What must I do to convince you, Aegon? Do you not believe me?”

Aegon’s trust had worn so thin that it threatened to snap, threadbare and nonexistent. He could only allow himself to trust so much — everyone he thought he could confide in or rely on had now turned against him, or attempted to slaughter him.

“It is hard to believe anyone anymore.” He murmured, staring down at his hands — one trembled, wreathed in burn scars, and the other clenched into a tight first.

He was made to believe that he was the rightful heir over Rhaenyra, when that was never the case. He was made to believe that he was a good ruler, when his Small Council plotted behind his back without his knowledge. He believed that Aemond was loyal to him, that he loved him as a brother would.

Lilac hues flickered from the void of his chambers to you, peering at you from beneath the curtain of pale tresses that still clung to his head. Despite the accusations of disloyalty he had hurled at you, his mistrust and doubt of your true intentions, you still maintained an amiable gaze.

You stared at him as if he had moved mountains, pulled the stars from the heavens for you — and he realized that no one, besides you, had looked at him in such a way before. It was profound and affectionate, wrought with a palpable adoration that came from a deep-rooted place of good.

Aegon’s throat grew tight, thick with emotion as he drank you in, tracing over the delicate plane of your features, the spark of warmth that brightened your eyes. Such divine beauty that he had robbed himself of for so long — he only felt like a fool, the greatest fool there was.

With an unsteady, quivering hand, he hesitantly reached out to you, unburnt fingertips tracing the curve of your jaw. He sucked in a sharp breath whenever you shuddered, face turning inward to press a kiss against his palm.

“I want to see you, husband.” You whispered, grasping his hand with both of yours, digits oozing with the radiance of heat that blossomed from you. The burn scars were carefully concealed behind silken garments, hidden from sight. Aegon grit his teeth together, not wanting you to see how disfigured he’d become.

“No,” Aegon quipped, shifting away from you with a scornful, wary expression. Whatever handsomeness he possessed before, it had all been burned away, turned to ash — and it left him, this husk of himself, with a physique that was repulsing to behold. “There is nothing pleasant about it — it is rotten.”

Rotten was perhaps a vast exaggeration for his wounds and scars, something that you found to be perplexing. Scars did not bother you, and you wouldn’t let your husband’s insecurities dissuade him from your comfort and care. Still holding his hand, you moved closer, pressing a kiss against his knuckles.

Aegon shivered beneath the chaste kiss, wanting nothing more than to collect you into his arms. The gnawing fear of your potential repulsion made him hesitate, and the bitter stab of rejection seemed to dig into him more than anything else.

“What woman would want this?”

Aegon’s forlorn, despondent inquiry hung above the both of you like some dour cloud. His grim outlook was something that you could sympathize with, given that his appearance had been torn apart within an instant. He swallowed the sob building within his chest, violet hues glistening with wet tears.

At last, he looked at you fully, exposing the marred, scarred side of his visage, tangled with a web of textured burns. His eye was sunken in, vessels having broken the white around his iris, ear nearly missing entirely, countenance partially mottled.

It was the same with his body, nearly half of it covered in the same fleshy web, scars spreading out like the roots of a tree. Aegon looked to you with a shattered expression, one that possessed a vehement swell of rage and frustration, yet still retained a sense of desperation. He was desperate to have your approval, for you to tell him that he was still perfect, regardless of his disfigurement.

Without a word, you moved your hand toward the maimed side of his face, expecting him to rip away or recoil entirely. Instead, he stayed there, rooted in-place, shuddering when the softness of your palm cupped his jaw. The pad of your thumb gingerly raked over his cheek, feeling along every scar and rough surface.

“I want you, Aegon,” The soft, silky resonance of your voice had brought him to heel, gaining his subservience, despite his inner battle with his insecurities. He feared being ugly in your eyes, as if his heart weren’t black and decayed enough. “I want you still.” Your lips twitched into an amiable smile.

For a moment, his eyes had fluttered shut, and he soaked in the sensation of your touch, warm and real against his cheek. It felt incredible, something he had craved for so long — it had left a gaping hole within his chest. Any tears that fell, you collected them with your fingertips, swiping them away.

Again, you inched closer, leg-to-leg with him, gaze drifting towards his lips. Aegon did not dissuade you from it, breathing becoming somewhat laborious as you pressed forward, mouth molding against his. It had been a long time since you had kissed him — truly kissed him.

A low, stirring groan reverberated within the depths of his throat, and at last, he reciprocated. Aegon’s kiss was done in a flurry of passion, realizing what he hadn’t had for so long. You tasted saccharine, warm and soft against him, mouth pliant and willing.

Gods, how blind he was — foolish, fragile, moronic.

He had abandoned you for unattainable things, for insignificant people that cared little about his wellbeing. Aegon had you — you, so devoted and loyal and forgiving, even when he deserved none of it. He very nearly sobbed again, knowing what error and sin he’d committed against you, but he shoved it down.

His insecurities seemed so small, as if they were wiped away by the curve of your mouth that so desperately kissed him. Aegon moved his good arm, bringing it to the swell of your hips, feeling your supple physique through the thin silk of your nightgown.

A sweet, simpering moan bubbled within your throat, a sound that so clearly vocalized your desperation for him, your repression and longstanding suffering. “Aegon,” You whispered, sending tremors down his spine as he kissed your jaw. “We don’t have to, we — you’re in pain.” You didn’t want to subject your husband to such agony.

Aegon shook his head, willing to push through the dull aching if it meant that he could have you again. Despite his fractured confidence, you made him feel so strong again, as if he still looked as he had before the burning. “Fuck agony,” He panted, hot breath fanning across your flesh. “I need you.”

That was enough to send a surge of molten heat throughout your belly, thighs rubbing together to alleviate some of your mounting arousal. “To bed, then.” You whispered, and Aegon swore that he moved quicker than normal, as if you had rejuvenated in some mystical way through words alone.

Using his cane to support most of his weight, he sluggishly walked toward your marital bed, feeling you hover around his side. You did not help him, and he didn’t want it, anyway. He was growing stronger by the day, capable of making it to his bed without support.

Fresh linens, silks, and feathered pillows had replaced ones used yesterday. It was all clean, smelling of lavender and honey. As he sat along the edge of the bed, he nearly chuckled at all of this — finally laying with you out of desire, and not duty, looking positively abhorrent.

If only it hadn’t taken him so long to get here.

“Are you certain, Aegon? I do not wish to hurt you, I —” Before you could prattle on about your concerns, Aegon silenced you with a kiss, coaxing you down by his side. His lips remained unblemished and unburnt, the taste of Dornish Red and sugar permeating his tongue.

“You won’t,” Aegon uttered, lilac hues raking over you, hungry and rapturous. “And if you do, you will not stop until I tell you to.” His tone retained a sternness to it, one that pleaded with you to allow him to drown in your affections, just like he always wanted.

With a gentle nod of your head, Aegon pushed your tresses away from your neck, thumb caressing along the column of your throat before he pressed a kiss there. You scarcely recalled the last time he’d done something like this, but you weren’t about to protest.

He wanted to hear your sighs and sweet whimpers, the sound of his name, breathy from your tongue. Aegon did not have the stamina he used to, but he would rather damn himself instead of stopping so quickly. He kissed and bit at your neck, soothing each mark with the languid lap of his tongue.

Gods, that sound — Aegon delighted in listening to your soft, wanton moan, pearlescent teeth nipping at your sensitive skin, kissing wherever he could reach. His burnt hand trembled, the flesh tender and still pulsating with a dull ache, but he elected to ignore it as best as he could.

Your hand pressed against his unmarred thigh, gripping into the flesh there as he groaned against you. He had finally gotten rid of that horrid, lengthy nightshirt, back to linen trousers and a silken, emerald tunic. His growing erection wasn’t subtle in the slightest.

“Let me see you.” Aegon murmured, wanting to look upon you with renewed eyes. You had always been beautiful to him, but now, you were captivating — a goddess incarnate, come to grace him with your presence. He watched as you stood, unraveling your robe as you draped it across the foot of the bed.

His mouth became dry, desire swelling within him like the urgent crash of a tidal wave. Aegon’s violet gaze remained transfixed, unable to tear themselves away from you and your perfection.

You stood in between his legs, shedding the thin, sheer gossamer of your nightgown, allowing it to pool around your feet before you nudged it aside. The last time you had undressed for Aegon, he was drunk and needy, several months ago.

His intoxication was of a different sort now, drunk upon your resplendence, your beauty, living and breathing before him. Aegon gripped your hip with his good hand, learning forward to press kisses all along your abdomen and stomach.

The sensation of your hand, so gentle and sweet, slipped against his marred cheek, gingerly caressing over his uneven web of scars, encapsulating over half of his skull. Aegon nearly groaned at your heavenly touch, the touch of a wife who loved her husband, scars and all.

He did not feel so monstrous anymore.

Aegon turned to press a kiss against the inside of your wrist, savoring the feeling of your fingertips roving across his scars. It was only when you moved to kiss the top of his head that he nearly faltered, breath warbled and wavering, surprise settling into his features.

He moved back, countenance twitching with pain for a fleeting moment, finding comfort within the silken duvet and soft sheets of your shared bed. You nearly moved to sit beside him again, but he stopped you, swallowing the growing lump within his throat.

“No,” Aegon whispered, tone a low, husky resonance, strung out with desire as he coaxed you into his lap with certainty. “Come here.” Those lilac hues were blown-out with lust and bewilderment, enthralled by you as he felt you settle down against him, thighs firmly caging him in on either side.

A grunt stirred within his chest, a dull throbbing pulsating throughout his body, but he persisted, feeling your plush form sit right in his lap. His good arm stroked along your spine and hip, faces mere breaths apart, and he kissed you with a blinding fervor.

Aegon never kissed you like this — not until now.

Whatever sentiments you felt for him, the ones that drove you to complete devotion, began to resurface — you still loved him fiercely, despite everything. “Will you allow me to see you, too?” You whispered against his mouth, digits dancing toward the hem of his tunic.

A beat of hesitation passed through your husband, who almost seemed to revert to his reclusive state. His jaw became tense, an inner war raging within him as he contemplated letting you disrobe him. Aegon looked at you, torn yet wanting, tugging you closer.

You gave him time to deliberate, not wanting to push him into something that he wasn’t prepared for. As if to soothe him, your fingertips traced along his brow line, and into the tangle of scars. “If you do not, I will understand, husband. It will not make me love you any less.”

That alone made him want to remove his tunic.

Aegon tilted forward, burying his face against your collarbone, mottled flesh textured against your own skin. He felt your palm glide against the nape of his neck, carding your digits through his wisps of pale hair. “It is hideous,” He uttered, insecurities bubbling to the surface. “I wouldn’t dare subject you to it.”

“Aegon,” The tenderness of your tone seemed to grab his attention rather swiftly, lilac hues drifting up toward your visage, perfect and comely. “It is all you — every scar and every imperfection, and I will love it all the same. My desires haven’t changed.”

His breath hitched within his throat, eyes swimming with an amalgamation of emotions, some of them too overwhelming to fully comprehend. He had sorely missed your embrace, and to further deprive himself of it seemed like an unimaginable torture.

You wanted him to take his time, neck craning as you peppered your lips against his throat — the burnt side, flesh marred and uneven, the sensation akin to a leathery surface. Aegon exhaled, gripping you tighter as he reveled in the feeling of your mouth.

It was he who initiated the removal of his tunic, attempting to pry it away and over his head, but he struggled, a low groan escaping him. Aegon wanted to feel independent, to do something himself, but he relented, accepting your assistance.

Removing the garment felt like an eternity, born out of his own nervousness and crippling insecurity of you seeing him this way, marred and mottled. Only half of him was covered in that tangled, leathery web of scars, spiraling down his entire physique.

Hovering your palm above his chest, Aegon’s lilac gaze silently pleaded with you to touch him, grace him with the touch of your resplendence. The scars were rough and uneven, innumerable and etched into his flesh like a blanket of leather.

Yet, you did not recoil or shy away, tracing patterns over his skin, pressing your sweet kisses wherever you could reach. Aegon felt his cock twitch and throb with desperation, longing to be inside of you. The tender care you showed him meant more to him than any crass or lewd act did.

You kissed his scarred shoulder, a gesture so comforting and kind that Aegon shuddered from exhilaration. That pattern of soft worship continued, as you kissed his scars again and again, reverence seeping into each grace of your mouth.

“Gods, how divine you are,” Aegon exhaled, quivering hand finally extending just enough to knead against your thigh. The palm that held your hip traced towards the warmth between your legs, and he shivered at the slick arousal there. “What a pleasant surprise.”

You squirmed, cunt aching for him in every way imaginable, hips jolting into the sensation of his practiced digits. Aegon was swift to reward your kindness with quick strokes of his fingers, tracing along your slit before caressing your clit, toying with the sensitive pearl.

The game of waiting was an agonizing one, as he longed to be inside of you, let you feel him again with renewed vigor, drown himself within your love. Aegon groaned when your lips met his, connecting with a thinly-veiled ardor, passionate yet tender.

Agony and pain became a thing of the past — even if his body ached and contorted with a continuous sting, he didn’t care. He wanted to endure for you, savoring each moment, digits greedily stroking away at your cunt in order to warm you up.

Desire made him dizzy, head beginning to spin in a delirium, induced by the growing haze of lust. He couldn’t recall the last time he laid with a woman and truly enjoyed it — but he was enjoying this — he loved your body, and above all else, he loved you.

“I want you inside of me,” You panted, hot breath fanning across the shell of his ear. A shiver cascaded along his spine, prompting him to slow the steady strokes of his digits. “Aegon, please.” With a pleading tone that brought Aegon to heel, he nodded, letting out a grunt of discomfort.

He gently removed you from his lap, but only to readjust, moving himself back against the mound of feathered pillows and cushions. Those violet hues silently observed you, rapturous and starving, like a hound preparing to devour its meal as you clamored forward again.

Your hands moved to the leather ties of his breeches, loosening them up enough to free his cock from its confines, flushed head oozing with tendrils of precum. Aegon wasn’t shy about how aroused he was, how desperately he needed you.

“Sit,” Aegon groaned, hand kneading against your hip, attempting to coax you onto his hardened length. “Please, I — I need you.” You hadn’t heard him beg before, but the sound was husky, timbre strung-out with desire as you crawled back into his lap.

As you gently lowered yourself onto his cock, Aegon nearly moaned at the sensation, head rolling back against the pillows as you sank down completely. He couldn’t move like he used to, guide you along or assist, but he did squeeze your hip, caressing all along your side.

Depriving himself of you for so long was perhaps one of the greatest faults he’d ever made, filling him with a wave of guilt. He could not make up for it anymore, properly ravage you in the way that you deserved, but he hoped that this was a start.

Everything began to ache with more of an intensity, a dull throbbing sinking into his bones, but he relented. Aegon would not deny himself, and he would not deny you, above all else. A myriad of throaty groans escaped him as you began to move, hips rocking forward, disarmingly gentle and sluggish.

You did not go quickly at all, each movement slow and steady, thighs stinging from exertion. Slowly, you reached for his hand, the one that had stayed closer to his chest, longing to hold it, if he was able. Aegon’s breath hitched when you did, gently twining his fingers with your own as you rode him.

His cock filled you perfectly, filling a void within you that had been left half-empty for so long. At last, you had your husband again — the one that you yearned for since your wedding day. With gentle gyrations, you moved yourself up and down along his length, continuing your sluggish rhythm.

The palm that cupped your hip and thigh soon slithered toward the apex of between your legs, hoping to stimulate you just as you did him. Your moans, breathy and high-pitched, filled your chambers, noises that he had been longing to hear.

The full, lovely swell of your breasts bounced gently atop your chest as you continued your ministrations, repeating the monotonous motion of rocking along his cock. Your stomach sloshed with molten heat, and it quickly spread to your loins when Aegon’s thumb caressed the pearl of your cunt.

He wasn’t going to last much longer in this state, cock throbbing with tendrils of precum that released themselves inside of you. The way in which you milked him, moved agonizingly slow, allowing him to feel your cunt tighten around him — it was nearly overwhelming.

Your cunt clenched pathetically, snug around his length as you continued to ride him, his cock bottoming out within you. It was a perfect storm of sensations, between the fervent circles he traced into your clit coupled with the feeling of him inside of you, you knew that your release was near and inevitable.

A breathy sigh of ‘fuck’ emerged from Aegon’s mouth, countenance contorted into a look of complete and utter ecstasy. “Gods, do not stop,” Aegon commanded through wanton groans, hips desperately wanting to buck up inside of you, but the pain was becoming too great. “Please.” He pleaded.

Everything felt so raw and sensitive, nerves set ablaze, arousal gripping him tightly as you continued to ride his cock, ensuring that you were still incredibly gentle. He thoroughly enjoyed watching you move, cautious and mindful of him, lips agape and visage one of sheer bliss.

The delight you felt was immense, holding onto Aegon’s hand, wanting to grind yourself into his thumb. “Aegon,” You moaned, looking down upon him with reverence and awe, no inkling of disgust to be found — it was ardor and want, all tangled into one. “I—I’m close!” Your whine made him want to tear you apart.

It only took one more roll of your hips for him to fall apart, in shambles beneath you, hot ropes of virile seed filling your womb with desperation. Aegon saw stars from the intensity of his release, nearly collapsing in the aftermath of it all.

His breathing quickened, hoarse and labored as you tilted your hips forward, finding a much-needed friction as he caressed your clit even still. Watching you reach your release with his own eyes was a captivating sight, mesmerizing to behold as you shuddered, trembling and aching with relief.

He huffed, attempting to recuperate as you stayed in his lap for a moment longer, slick with your nectar and his own spent, its sheen coating the inside of your thighs. You removed yourself from him to give him some reprieve, stepping away to clean yourself up and retrieve your nightgown.

Aegon’s visage became one of immediate concern as he watched you move away, worried that he had offended you. “Where — Are you not staying?” He questioned, hastily maneuvering his breeches up around his hips again, doing his best to lace up the leather ties.

Surprised, you stopped near the basin of water sitting along the vanity, head canting to one side. “I intended on staying with you, unless you do not want me to.” You replied, sliding the silken garment back on after having taken a swatch of cloth to the warmth between your thighs.

“I want you,” Aegon’s tone had become a rather desperate resonance, as if imploring you to stay even when there wasn’t a need for him to do so. “I want you to stay.” He uttered, lilac hues somewhat shrewd as you approached, helping him put his tunic back on.

“Of course.” With a soothing voice, you pressed a kiss against the scarred side of his scalp, and then to his forehead, helping to ease him back down into bed. The draught left behind by Maester Orwyle assisted with the pain — not nearly as strong as Milk of the Poppy, but it was the best choice.

Taking a swig, Aegon sighed, feeling you climb into bed, curled against the good side of his body. He immediately collected you into his arm, feeling your cheek press into his shoulder. It was the most satisfying feeling in the world, having you by his side again.

“If you are agreeable to it,” Aegon began, tracing patterns into the small of your back, “I wish for you to stay here again, and share my bed.” He didn’t demand anything, nor did he use his title and power to force you into sharing your chambers again.

He would’ve understood if you declined, given everything that had happened between the both of you.

Aegon loathed the thought of being alone again, to return to his reclusive existence of self-deprecation and endless misery when you were still here, living perfection — his beloved wife. He turned his head just enough to kiss your crown, briefly inhaling your floral scent, one that he sorely missed.

“I would like that,” You hummed, comfortable by his side. It was the first time in many moons that Aegon felt almost entirely comfortable again, scars and all. “Know that I love you, Aegon — until my last days.” With a gentle touch, you reached for his marred hand, holding it delicately within your own.

Tears swam within his lilac hues, and he had to squeeze them shut just to alleviate that feeling of sobbing. To hear you say with certainty that you loved him — he knew that he no longer needed to fear the idea of living, not when he had you.

“I love you.” Aegon whispered, barely above a whisper. He held you tightly, cradling you close, grasp innately protective even when danger didn’t hang over your heads.

Perhaps, for the first time in his life, he was finally being transparent with himself — with his inner turmoil, with his very existence, and that he loved you too.

copyright @ swordgrace ; please do not copy/steal my work and claim it as your own. please do not translate my work onto other platforms.

#house of the dragon #hotd x reader #aegon ii targaryen x reader #aegon ii targaryen x you #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon targaryen x you #aegon ii targaryen #aegon the second #hotd smut #hotd fanfic #house of the dragon fanfiction #house of the dragon smut #hotd fanfiction #aegon ii targaryen x y/n

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devotion-disorder · 2 months

Note

be careful what you wish for...the village Killian's from is having a bit of a population crisis right now, and having a nice little human come by could be just what they need...

Oh noooo....I'm just a naive human lost in this big forest with no one waiting for me...would be a shame if some beautiful elves whisked me away and brainwashed me into thinking I'm their pet/breeding machine and only need their "love and devotion". That would be terrible /silly

- 🩵

wdym the beautiful elf men do not, in fact, have my best interests in mind and were planning something nefarious from the start </3 I was just gonna write down some quick thoughts but it kinda got out of hand LOL

Content warning for: implied drugging (hypnotics, aphrodisiacs), dubcon/ noncon touching (nothing explicit though), manipulation, slight obsessive/ yandere themes, general elven condescension?

Imagine that you’ve accidentally wandered too deep into the forest and lost your way, your shoes hardly holding up in the rough terrain, and the last remaining rays of the setting sun are snuffed out by the overgrown foliage…

To make things worse, you walk right into some sort of trap - a stumbling step is all it takes to activate the runic trip switch, and a suffocating cloud of purple gas is the last thing you remember before things fade to dark…

How clumsy of you! Good thing Priest Killian happened to be on his evening walks when he spotted your pitiful form twitching and writhing in the hunting trap he’d set up; carefully he scooped you up and went his way back to the village. Only the most observant would be able to discern that the Priests’ unmoving smile seemed a bit wider than usual.

It was a trap the elves set up for hunting animals, he’d explained. The poison was almost enough to be fatal, had he not been there in time to save you. It’ll also take a bit for all the toxins to be out of your system. No worries though, because Killian offers to take care of you in his quarters until you’re up on your feet again.

You don’t even remember if you’d managed to give a response, what with lead-heavy limbs and relentless migraine pulsing in your head. Luckily, Killian treated you with utmost care. 3 meals a day (along with the antidote treatment) brought to your bed (well, his bed), and spoon-fed to you because you were too weak to even sit up. He massaged your stiff muscles and brushed your hair. He ran warm baths and washed you – and even then he never opened his eyes – so at least there was some comfort in that.

Under Killian’s care you gradually regain your strength, save for the occasional dizzy spell and fatigue. But he saved your life after all! Feeling indebted to him, you offer to stay longer in the village to help around. While Killian’s expression is ever-unreadable, you can’t help but sense a bit of…amusement from him upon your suggestion. Regardless, he agrees – so long as you agree not to wander too far outside the village, because it’s very dangerous out there, he said.

And of course, he maintained a watchful eye over you, shadowing your tottering form as you went around introducing yourself to the other villagers. How cute.

You worked whatever odd jobs the elves had for you. which isn’t much at all. Mostly just menial tasks, or perhaps relaying messages. Things that they could’ve easily done themselves with their magic, but it’s fun watching an over-enthusiastic little human do it instead, so eager to please. You would say they are…endeared, perhaps. Or maybe they’re just looking out for you, what with your unfinished recovery. Anyhow, the elves are charmed by the newfound presence in the village.

Killian gifts you a new set of clothes, made by the local tailor (you don’t remember visiting a tailor for measurements at any point though, strange). To help you feel more at home, he said. It's pretty, a delicate garment that flutters cool against your skin in the warm summer heat, with an unmistakably elven style of elegance. It is a little short but, well, elves are known for being tall so maybe they're not used to human proportions? The white silk is a bit sheer in places, and you tried to ignore how it clung to the contours of your body when you sweat…

You hadn’t expected elves to be so openly affectionate. Being a long-living race known for their high culture and intelligence, it made for the perception that they were maybe a bit prudish, engrossed in their endless pursuit of finer things to care about lowly desires. But you suppose the elves are as curious of you as you are of them. You got to know some of them quite well, and soon it was routine for them to envelop you in their embrace. They pet your hair and nuzzle into your neck (Killian said something about how common skinship is in elven culture), at times slipping their digits beneath your clothes…sometimes you don't really remember, because the medicine still made you a bit sluggish. But it's ok! Their affectionate nature is a surprise but one you welcome. You think.

During all of which, your treatment continued. Just a little longer, Killian promised. The side-effects seem to show no sign of waning, if not worsening at times. Sometimes you struggle to recall what has happened and what has not. The elves didn’t seem to mind, gladly cradling your tired body when you are overcome with sudden bounds of weakness. You poor little thing, they cooed, one hand combing through your hair to distract you from their other that wandered along your body.

Some days the medicine leaves you feeling more flushed than usual, and a strange feeling you can’t quite place invades your senses; a deep, frustrating kind of yearning that throbbed in your core. You assume it's the side-effects of advanced elf sorcery/ enchantment in your antidote treatment. It’s a tad embarrassing, but you can’t really do anything about it when the elves (if not the Priest himself) check in on you so frequently.

Your only reprieve comes when Killian slots himself snug against your smaller form at bedtime. Were you always this close? You’re not sure if you recall, trying desperately to suppress the suggestive thoughts flooding your brain. His cool hands trail over your body, and it feels way too good against your overheating skin, so good that you can’t even think about resisting as his lips come crashing on top of yours, when he slips his arm underneath your waist to push you closer, closer against him.

Stumbling out of Killian’s quarters in the dead of night, confused, and your vision blurred by hot tears, all you can think about is getting away from him, from this godforsaken place. The other elves stepped out of their houses from the commotion. It was as if something in the air shifted. Their friendly, curious pretenses have dropped completely, leaving a ravenous hunger and unyielding need in their place. The way they leer at your body, the disheveled elven outfit failing to provide much cover, makes your hair stand on their ends. The elves close in on you, their concerned voices laced with something unmistakably sinister. You’re trapped.

A gentle hand on your shoulder snaps you out of your stupor.

“Now, now, I’m sure we’re all very excited about our little one here, but everyone will have their turn sooner or later.” Killian explains. He leans close to your ear, whispering in a volume only audible to you. “Look at you getting everyone so riled up already. Aren’t you such a needy little pet?” You’re paralyzed in fear, but his husky voice in your ears is still setting your nerves alight.

“I’ll give you two choices. Either you let me 'take care of you' back at home,” his arms snaked around your body again, lithe fingers fanning across your thighs. “Or we’ll give everyone a show, and maybe let them get...a preemptive taste, as well. What’ll it be?”

#ask #🩵anon #Killian posting #yandere oc #yandere x reader #yandere imagines #elves don't really do hunting because they have livestock btw. and it was Killian that set up the trap 😔#elf fever hours

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ozzgin · 10 months

Note

I love your reader insert stuff!! The yandere yazuka series was vvvv entertaining, I wish I had a big scary gangster to scare away my stalker lol

If you are open to requests, how about Idol!Reader x Yandere!Bodyguard. I love the trope so much, and I'm interested and what you'd do with the idea. No worries if you're not interested tho!

Best wishes

-🌟

I just finished writing it and you've got me punching the air with your prompt. It wasn't really my thing but I'm now sold. Thank you for the trope idea. :’)

Yandere!Bodyguard x Idol!Reader (I)

Short scenario featuring your bodyguard that takes his duty a little too seriously. Not that you’d mind…

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3]

TW: violence

(Cover from the manga “A girl and her guard dog”)

"Fantastic show tonight!"

The older man guides you in and closes the door behind him. You smile warmly and seat yourself on the sofa. He quickly follows, although at a terribly uncomfortable proximity. His legs are pressed against yours and he extends an arm behind you, pretending to stretch. You shuffle awkwardly and lock your hands in your lap. You can already tell where this is going.

"With your talent, I'm confident we could triple the number of attendants. We just need a bigger venue." He nods at you and taps your thigh with his other free hand as encouragement. You notice the wedding band digging into his skin.

"Alas, let us not waste the evening with business talk. I'm sure a stunning lady like you has better things to do." He laughs at his own compliment and ponders for a minute. "In fact, why don't we have dinner together? I know a great restaurant in the area."

You open your mouth to speak, but are distracted by the sudden, mild pressure on your leg. Somehow, his greasy fingers have wandered further up in the time you listened to his shameless offer. You've been in this career for long enough to guess what such proposals entail. If you say no, best case scenario he presses further, calling you a stuck up bitch and reminding you who has the power in this partnership. Worst case scenario, he leaves the room and the calls and invitations to perform will gradually drop.

Yet your situation is special, benefitting from an additional possibility. A loophole, if you may.

Should you scream? Oh, he always gets so angry when you act scared. It's an immediate trigger. He really has a soft spot for your glistening, frightened eyes. You glance up one final time at the perverted smirk silently disregarding you. If you are to be honest with yourself, you'd very much enjoy seeing it wiped off forever. Why not? You're feeling particularly mean today.

So without hesitation, you release a high pitched yell of help. The door bursts open and the hinges creak. A tall, toned man walks in, and without a word he lunges at the manager, pulling him by the collar of his cheap dress jacket. You hold your cheeks dramatically, and bat your eyelashes at your bodyguard.

"H-he tried to molest me..." you mumble between sobs.

That's all he needs to proceed. Now the real fun begins. You can hear the muffled screams of protest. The bones crack and the flesh bends under his iron fists. Standing before your bodyguard, they all end up looking like ragdolls. Comically limp and weak, folding and breaking with no resistance. It amuses you greatly.

When did it all begin? You can't remember anymore. You were in your early years and this scary looking stranger entered your little backstage room. His explanation was brief and to the point: as your fame increases, so will the threats to your safety. He was appointed as your bodyguard. You couldn't care less, so you just shrugged.

You've always been on the playful side. Not necessarily rude, just some innocent tease and banter wherever it's well received. Seeing him so quiet and stoic, you couldn't help but try to push his buttons: changing in front of him and requiring his assistance, occasionally asking him to pick you up and carry you because you could no longer walk. Naturally you would've stopped at the first complaint, but that's the strange part: no reaction ever came. He went along with everything. You assumed it's part of the job. Celebrities aren't known for their good manners, so hiring someone that loses their temper easily would be a fast ticket to termination.

Then you had your first encounter with one of the unpleasant fans you've been warned about. You could only stare in terror at your bodyguard's feral, unhinged reaction. The unfortunate fan's face was so disfigured, you wondered if anyone could ever manage to fix it back into shape. The bodyguard was panting and you could see the sweat coating his face and chest. You were rather confident there were many other ways to deal with it and this wasn't on the recommended list. Thus you felt compelled to ask the million dollar question:

"You act like a jealous spouse. Do you have a crush on me or something?"

You kind of regretted your audacity towards a man that had just nearly killed someone. But his features softened instantly and he turned to you, wiping his forehead and straightening his collar.

"I suppose so. Is that an issue?"

As you stared ahead, processing his unbothered act, you sensed your cheeks feverishly burning. Uh oh. You hadn't anticipated such a nonchalant confession. You thought back to all the times you stood before him, bare and flirty. Was he merely holding back his urges the entire time? Or was he finally paying you back for all the teasing? Then again, his face didn't betray any hint of humor.

"I've never heard you joke before", you decided to test the waters.

"I'm not. Why would I joke about something like this?" He gazed at you incredulously.

As somber and honest as ever. Well, that would indeed explain why he'd let you get away with the cheeky behavior. The more you considered it, the more entranced you became with the idea of indulging in such a relationship. As a famous idol, you couldn't be seen dating anyone. One rumor of you having a boyfriend and the agency would've had your ass suspended. But no one said anything about messing around with your bodyguard. He has to be with you all the time, so no one would suspect a thing. And you could definitely expand his list of responsibilities. You'd been terribly stressed lately, after all, and an outlet to release your frustrations would be most welcomed. Your bodyguard would never refuse pleasing his beloved.

You chuckled and pulled him towards your dressing room, giddy with excitement. Something about his imposing presence, like a wild animal that had just escaped from the leash, aroused you to no end. You've had your share of crazy fans, but this was the cherry on top.

"Should we leave?"

You're jolted out of your daydreams by his low, rough voice. Ah, you missed the grand finale. Too bad. The bodyguard approaches you, with the shirt wrinkled and the top buttons popped open under the shuffle of his vicious attack. You can feel the knot forming in your stomach.

"Not yet. You know how I get when you act like this..." You pout and look away. "You need to take care of me first."

He grins at your last statement.

"Of course. Is the sofa okay?"

You nod.

"Then let's get you undressed, miss."

Is this what they call a scary dog privilege?

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere x darling #female reader #yandere bodyguard #yandere imagine #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #male yandere x reader #yandere original character

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hoseoksluna · 9 months

Text

PRACTICE | jjk

pairing: dom!jungkook x reader

genre: smut; fluff

word count: 4.9k

summary: you make jungkook proud by practicing what he taught you.

warnings: jungkook smiling and being all dominant!!!, also manly as fuck, use of his korean name cuz it's hot, masturbation, reader is horny and just a girl!!, biker mask (gasp), edging, orgasm denial, oral sex (f. receiving), dom/sub dynamics, squirting, desperation, porn, use of a sex toy, brief nipple play, spanking, bratty behavior <3, degradation, praise, the beauty of cumming together, mentions of sex, aftercare

note: it's entirely jungkook's fault that i wrote this bc he made me h word. i hope you enjoy the very first of the many smutty one shots i'm planning to write!! i had the time of my life writing this, imagining 3D!jungkook cuz he's just so delicious there. my weakness. fuck my life!! pls let me know what you think <3 like and comment (reblogs r very useful but i won't pressure u angel). love you!!

side note: i rly fucking miss jungkook. that's all. byebye

Stars fill your vision as your hand works wonders between the softness of your legs. You are fucked. Oh so deliciously, majestically and colossally fucked. And you whimper once the wave of that pleasure you burn for unfolds within your body. Arch your back. Roll your hips. Huff and puff until you near your breaking point. Then you lift your hand.

The surge ebbs away and you sink your teeth into your puffy bottom lip, desperation scorching each and every perimeter of your skin.

You enjoy this. The smug on your face couldn’t be wiped off even if you tried. You've been going at this for a dozen of minutes, sitting on your dark green couch with your legs spread, one hand rubbing circles on your needy bundle of nerves, the other gripping your phone with all its might, how it hasn’t cramped yet is beyond you, as it plays a dirty porn that does very little to quench your thirst. Your closest friend for the time being, have been ‘for the time being’ for much longer than you care to admit, a small pink vibrator Pinkie, keeps you company beside you while you swallow every grunt and whimper the couple in the video makes. It's turned off, however. Resting in the shadow of the threatening calamite that your shaking thighs are. You can't edge yourself with it when you're this fucked, so deeply lost in the rosy maze of lust. You would have to keep the head on your clit for merely a second, otherwise you'd be coming, and you'd be coming fast but not very hard. And where’s the fun in that? It still keeps you thirsty, your insides begging you again and again for another hit of dopamine, for just one drop of cum. Well, your pussy mainly.

It’s a persistent problem for you. You get horny, you touch yourself and you come under two minutes or less. The hit so small in quantity, so weak in quality that you inescapably need more than one round to be satisfied. The situation is even more problematic when you get down to it with your boyfriend. It doesn’t matter much when you’re on the receiving end; you enjoy yourself, you look forward to his dick splitting you open, so it just cuts time. Although it does matter when he fucks you like the man he is. You clamp down on him, and he comes as fast as you do. You can’t help it. You’re so enamored with him, with his masculinity and his dominance, it burns your body alive. Who are you to tell your body no? It’s impossible. He’s impossible, and absolutely irresistible. Though you wish you could get lost in the pleasure, and you truly do each time you have sex, and it gets unfairly swept away from you. You’re just a thirsty girl. This unjust treatment pisses you off.

You opened up to your boyfriend about this and he laughed in your face, stroking your cheek. Told you it’s what he loves about you and you just rolled your eyes, dismissing it. Then he took your hand and sat you down again, offering you a solution that changed your life. For the worst at first, for the better the more you did it.

He suggested you try edging yourself when you play with your pussy. He showed you the ropes the first time, guiding you through a long process of denied orgasms, and you wanted to strangle him. You had to lift your hand when he said so, otherwise you were getting spanked. The joke was on him because you enjoyed the harsh sting, the roughness of his palm on your skin. But then it was him who was laughing when he pinned your arms above your head and confiscated your pleasure. You squirmed. Whined. Waited. Then he fingered you and you came so hard you saw stars, the orgasm just kept going and going. You were satisfied after one round. Problem fixed.

“Practice it until your body learns,” he had told you and you almost came again.

What a man.

The memory of this teaching lesson is what got you thirsty right now, actually.

You pay attention to the way the guy in the video squishes the tits of the lucky girl in the video and fucks them with his cock. You moan, lowering your fingers to your clit again and starting a series of slow circles. Your fingers are slippery from your leaking essence and the sweat on your folds from your marvelous torment, and it turns you on even more. You feel your orgasm coming, despite your pace, and you eat your fist in exasperation. Should you say fuck it and finally make yourself come? You hear the order uttered by your boyfriend in the back of your head, remember how long he told you to edge for that one time, and you want to make him proud (you do!), but then the girl licks at the slit of his cock and you clench around nothing. You want that so bad and you groan, anger and desperation creating something so sinful, so unhinged inside of you.

Resuming your movement on your bud, you pick up the pace because fuck it, you can’t take it anymore. The pressure, the anticipation of chasing after what you desire is so sweet and it fills you with energy and giddiness. Fuck jogging, now you're sprinting, clenching your muscles, nearing closer and closer to the finish line. You lift your knees, riding your hand, moans spilling from your mouth. You'd come right on the spot if it wasn't for the ding of a sudden text message snapping you out of your daze.

Your heart thuds in your chest. Fuck, did you not turn on 'do not disturb'?

koo: I'm here

You stare at the notification in disbelief. Beneath it, the guy is fucking the girl's throat. You screech, burying your face in your hands. What is your boyfriend doing here so early? You aren't supposed to see each other until later tonight, or are you forgetting something? Your mind is spinning, another denied orgasm taking a toll on you. Sighing, you slip your legs into your panties and your plush pajama pants, your feet finding their comfort in your fluffy slippers. Since he's here, he's gonna make himself extremely useful, you decide, putting on your warm bathrobe with Mickey Mouse on it and grabbing your keys.

As you descend the stairs from your apartment, the sticky wetness between your legs makes you uncomfortable. Your eyebrows furrow in anger. Does a girl really have to suffer in order to reach a mind-blowing orgasm these days? You scoff to yourself, sinking your key into the lock of the door to the main building. The key doesn't budge, though, and it almost makes you punch that fucking door. The lock has been sporadically working and not working for months, hence why the door needs to stay locked properly at all times, and nobody has so far taken the time to call someone to repair it. You kick the door with your knee and you hear a laugh behind it. You recognize it belongs to your boyfriend and you smile to yourself, finding the sweet sound stupidly cute. Your hand reaches for the key again and you turn it. To your surprise, the lock doesn't fuck around and actually lets you see your boyfriend.

Jeongguk is standing beside his motorcycle, black helmet under his armpit. Your eyes widen when they discover his face is hidden under a biker mask of the same color. You haven’t seen him with his bike in quite some while. He prefers to drive you around in his car lately. It’s winter after all. He keeps you warm, sneaks his fingers between your legs, rubs your pussy through your jeans to tease you because he likes it when you’re needy for the rest of the evening. Oh, and you eat there so icicles don’t hang from your hands. Food, that is. You get it.

It’s a wonderful surprise, nonetheless. Only his orbs and eyebrows are visible, his pouty mouth creates shapes on the mask that almost causes you to see stars again. Yeah, you think you could come like this, staring at his tall figure dressed in a puffer jacket and gray baggy jeans laying dangerously low on his hips. Even though you know how big his dick is, the size of them makes him appear even bigger and you salivate. Your pussy drools, too. You're about to get on your knees right now, you don't care.

"Looks like I'm gonna have to fix that fucking lock myself," Jeongguk remarks.

Oh, fuck. He's so manly.

Just one suck. Fuck, please. Just one.

You're going to scrape your fucking knees on the ground for everyone to see, you genuinely don't care. He deserves it for looking like that, for acting like such a man.

Your clit gains a heartbeat (again) and you blink up at him, desperation once again unfurling its flames under your skin. You smile behind the pain, finding the whole situation completely ridiculous now.

"I'd be grateful," you purr and Jeongguk walks towards you, smiling like the little shit he is, helmet still under his armpit. You lift the hem of his mask to reveal his delicious lips, piercing-less. You kiss him, moonstruck. "I'm tired of this shitty lock."

Jeongguk nods. "Noted." Then he kisses you again. "It was funny how you kicked it."

You laugh. He takes off the mask entirely and you both walk up the stairs to your apartment, though a pang of disappointment hangs onto your heart. You wish he kept the mask on. It was nonsensically hot to you. A lightbulb flares to life in your mind abruptly and you hide your smirk beneath the curtain of your hair.

Yeah, you’re going to make him wear it as you suck him dry.

Your giddiness extends to another level and you hurriedly walk up the rest of the stairs to your apartment, your butt jiggling under your thick robe.

Jeongguk walks in like he owns the place. He sets his helmet on the kitchen island and his mask right beside it. You watch as he empties out his pockets. Wallet, phone, keys, a pack of cigarettes and a purple lighter. Leaning over, he hangs his winter jacket on one of the barstools. His back muscles ripple under his oversized black T-shirt with each movement of his arms. What steals your attention, however, is the sliver of skin that he unwittingly lets you see as he fixes his jeans to rest a little higher on his hips.

White Calvins.

Oh, yes.

The dip of his spine on his lower back.

You lick your lips.

The smallness of his waist that grows into such a vulgar broadness of his shoulders.

Fuck, you do everything you can to not bite onto your finger; instead you opt to hide your drool beneath your hand as you continue to wait behind him, tracing your lower lip with the acrylic nail on your thumb, diabolical with your stand and your plan. Crossed arms, needy pussy and all.

What a man.

What a fucking man.

You squeeze your thighs together.

When he turns away from the kitchen, you leap to the counter. You snatch the mask and gaze at it lovingly. Such an innocent thing, and it made you this hot and bothered. You shake your head at the bizarreness of it all, but your smile remains.

"What the fuck were you doing here?"

You gasp at the sternness in his tone, hiding the mask under your armpit similarly like he did with his helmet downstairs. You don't understand where his abrupt austerity stems from, but it makes your legs wobbly, so much that you bump into him as you hurry to see what he sees, grabbing his arm as if to say sorry. And then your heart drops.

A round wet spot adorns your dark green couch, where you sat and pleasured yourself before he came. Your best friend Pinkie, sticky and lifeless, almost beams at you in mischief. A smile of your own begins to quiver on your lips before you burst into giggles, a tiny amount of shyness painting your cheeks with rosiness.

“I was practicing?” you answer truthfully, lilting your voice a little bit.

Jeongguk closes his eyes at your words, his lips forming a thin line. Hangs his head. Slouches in your grip. It is a stark contrast to how he entered your apartment. His breath quickens and you watch the raise and the fall of his chest. You realize this means only one thing.

"Are you crazy?" Jeongguk says, eyes still closed. "Do you even realize what you've just done to me?"

He finally looks at you and your heart drops further down your belly. Fire splashes around in his eyes, akin to yours. He straightens his posture, turning his body to face you. Feet spread apart, he crosses his arms across his chest. Veins prominent, muscles like strings oscillating on his forearm as he taps his fingers on his elbow.

Your weakness.

Fuck.

Your breath hitches in your throat.

"And what's this?" He points to what you stole from him. He doesn't take it from you.

You suddenly remember your plan. Being so absorbed in his masculine energy, you forgot everything. Even your own name.

"Well, I had this idea," you start.

He hums in interest. Butterflies break havoc in your stomach.

"And what idea was that?" He cocks his head to the side, studying you.

You started, but you don't think you can finish. Not when you're so wet that you can feel your slick trickle out of the confines of your thin panties. Not when his stance makes you feel like you did something very bad and the next word that comes out of your mouth decides your punishment. Not when it thrills you this much.

Swallowing dryly, you avert your gaze. Do you say it or do you play dumb? Sweat prickles at the back of your neck, eyes falling to his crotch. Those cursed fucking jeans do a poor job of hiding his growing member and you tremble, itching to sink onto the hardwood floor, itching to palm him through the harsh fabric just to hear him hiss through his teeth. The impulse to do it, to simply be a brat and do what you want while he stares you down, fills your every vein, but you know better. Once you hit a nerve, Jeongguk doesn’t let you cum (at all) and you can’t sit on your bottom for a week. You can’t afford that right now.

You close your eyes and take a deep breath. You need your relief, and you need it desperately. You will behave if it means you’ll receive it from him.

"I was thinking," you mutter, fluttering your eyelashes open. “You could put this on while I make you feel good."

Nodding once, Jeongguk hums again. You feel the deep vibrations of his voice coursing down your body, starting from your cheeks. They warm them and paint them in pink, then they continue over the swell of your chest, leaving behind little pearls of sweat, until they reach your cunt. There they strengthen the pulse of your needy bud and you can’t take it anymore. You sigh audibly, hoping it prompts your boyfriend to do something.

“Make me feel good how?” he questions you.

You look up at him. His eyes are lowered into slits, woozy from arousal. You truly did turn him on with the mere evidence of your self-indulgence. You buzz from this achievement, a puckish smirk appearing on your mouth.

Jeongguk pries the mask away from your hold, keeps it in his grasp and with his other hand, he unravels the knot of your robe with his fingers, sliding it off your shoulders. He cocks his eyebrow at you, waiting for your answer.

Fuck it, you’re giving it your all. Anything to get fucked in the way you want, in the way you know he can give it to you.

“I get on my knees for you. Play with your tip, take you as far as I can until I choke on it, then I suck on your—“

He grabs your chin harshly and raises it to his level. That’s enough, he said with that gesture and you leak down your thighs. No matter how strongly the words, ‘can I finish my fucking sentence’ hangs off the top of your tongue, you remain quiet. Obedient.

He cups your pussy through your pajama pants with his other hand, inching closer to you until his figure swallows you. His soft moan reaches your ear once he discovers how slippery your pussy is against your silky underwear and your stomach flips. You, on the other hand, don’t feel much where you need him due to the thickness of the material. It adds to your frustration quite plenty, though. This what you get for being good?

Inhaling deeply, he levels his eyesight with yours. “How many times did you come, hm?”

Your breath hitches and you lower your eyes, shyness caused from his dominance taking every bit of confidence you had left. His words blaze your insides—he knows you so well. He knows how obsessed you’ve become with playing with yourself ever since he told you to practice. Sometimes you win, sometimes you lose. The latter being more frequent, hence why you exerted yourself today. He knows this. For some reason it makes this moment even more intimate and stimulating for you. But you don’t let him know that.

“What makes you think I lost this time?” you retort, the brattiness slipping through before you could control it.

His fingers aren’t doing nearly enough to give you the relief you seek and you whine, grinding your hips against his curious fingers. Much to your dismay, he still keeps his pressure light. Pretends to be blind to your desperation. You let out a huff of air, hooking your thumbs beneath the waistband of your pants, anger fueling you on.

You barely manage to pull it down before Jeongguk turns you around. He locks your arms in his grasp from behind, tugs the pants beneath the swell of your ass and smacks your cheek, leaving a rippling effect in its wake. He then grabs your face from behind to make you look at him.

“Did I fucking ask you to take ‘em off?”

You’d come on the spot if you could. But you’re still angry.

“No, I asked you a simple question,” Jeongguk continues. “And I expect you to answer.”

You bite your lip and furrow your eyebrows. “Jeongguk, I’m so wet there’s a fucking puddle in my panties. I can’t take it anymore. Please, I need to come.”

Jeongguk raises his at your answer and hums lowly, grinding his hips into your ass and arching your back even further in this position. You moan distinctly at the feeling of his member, engorged and hard.

Jeongguk lets go of your arms and presses you against him fully, lowering his hand to wrap his fingers around your throat, the other around your middle. You love it like this the most, cocooned in his embrace from behind—you can’t see him, but you can feel him, you can feel the firmness of his touch, the solidness of his body, and you know he’s there.

“How many times?” he asks once again, more gently this time, lips tracing the shape of your ear. He rubs your belly to soothe you and you close your eyes, teeth sinking into your bottom lip. A smile, a mischievous one, much like the one your best friend Pinkie had, threatens to appear on your lips. He has turned into a soft dom for you and it makes you weak. So much that all you want to do right now is give him pleasure.

You begin to rotate your hips against him and he hisses, cursing under his breath. Yes, that’s precisely what you wanted to hear. You put more pressure into your movement and he slides your hand down your mound to stop you, his tongue coming to play with your ear. Fuck, okay. You listen, transferring your teasing elsewhere.

“Zero,” you finally answer, figuring he deserves the reward.

Jeongguk grabs your shoulders and turns you around, pinching his eyebrows together. “Don’t believe you. There’s no fucking way you’d leave it wet like that without coming at least three—“

“I was about to come before you so rudely interrupted me.”

His eyes darken and you realize you fucked up.

He takes his hands off of you and starts walking, causing you to walk backwards to your couch.

“My apologies.” He pushes you to sit down on the soiled spot, taking a seat right in front of you on the coffee table. “Don’t let me interrupt you any further. Please“—He hooks his fingers under your pajama pants along with your underwear and takes it off in one go—“continue. Make yourself come.”

You gulp. Fuck, if that isn’t the hottest thing you ever heard.

He scoots closer to you on the coffee table and extends your legs over his. You ogle him. The manspread, the tent in his pants, the serious look on his face. You slip your hand to your clit and start rubbing, your eyes closing as pleasure floods you. Finally. You moan, and you moan loudly.

“Nuh-uh.”

You sigh before you open your eyes. There he goes, interrupting you again. A familiar buzzing fills your ears.

You startle as the highest setting tickles your hand in an uncomfortable way. Jeongguk, wearing the mask now, wraps your hand around the vibrator and guides it to your clit, interlacing his fingers with yours in the process. Fuck, he did not just do that. You’re moaning before it even reaches you, your walls clenching around nothing.

“There you go,” he lifts his intense gaze from your pussy to your eyes. “Now come.”

And you do.

You squirt all over your intertwined hands, squirming uncontrollably while holding eye contact with him until he controls you, sliding his other free hand to your waist to hold you down. He moves the vibrator to your slit to give your puffy clit a break, collecting your juices. Then, another wave comes: Jeongguk slips the head back to your clit and presses down hard before quickly fixing a steady rhythm of going up and down. You’re just holding it, holding his hand. Taking the pleasure he gives you. Convulsing, clenching and screaming, coming so hard your eyes roll back—stars finally coming to stay.

Then, you’re pushing him away when overstimulation perfuses your body with a blunt pain. You close your legs. You thrash with yourself. But he’s stronger. The hand that was on your waist lifts up your bralette and uncovers your tits. The same fingers plunge into your mouth and you suck on them, calming down, earning an appreciative hum from him. He flicks your nipple, touches your breast, the nub deliciously rubbing against his rough palm. Pushes your other one to the mix so he can focus on both of your nipples at once, holds them like that as they bounce in his grip. You lift your pelvis, furiously riding the wave of an upcoming orgasm that will probably take you out.

You lose the sense of time and space when you come for the third time.

You’re gushing, leaking, bursting, both hands—yours and his—dripping wet with your dewiness. You think you’re levitating, but his firm touch grounds you, and when you open your eyes, Jeongguk is breathing hard. He’s watching you thoroughly; you can’t tell what he’s thinking, features still hidden by that mask. Your mind is empty, incapable of forming one coherent thought. You’re completely brainless. Fucked out.

Jeongguk gets on his knees and leans towards you. He tears his mask off, sweat pooling at his hairline.

“How pitiful,” he smiles. “So much for practicing.”

He gives you a filthy kiss full of tongue and you roll your body against his. His chest rubs against your nipples and it sends sparks of electricity through you.

“You wouldn’t last. Not a chance.”

You groan into his mouth. He’s so close that his musky scent is intoxicating you, his T-shirt is wet and your core is pressed against the one part of his stomach that the cloth exposed. It’s so warm and soul-stirring to you. You whine from the overstimulation of it all, especially the degradation.

“Jeongguk, I came so hard,” you tell him, coming up for some air.

He kisses your jaw. “I know. So fucking hot.” Takes his groans and presses them in the form of kisses into all the sensitive spots of your neck. “You made yourself come this hard, I’m proud.”

You moan. So moonstruck. So enamored. So satisfied.

Jeongguk lifts his head from the crook of your neck and grins at you. You reciprocate.

“That was so good,” you whisper and bite your lip, stroking his hair back. You find you’ve broken the skin already, but you don’t mind. “So, so good.”

His eyes drop to your mouth, then at the pearls of your pleasure on your chest.

“So filthy. Need to clean you up.”

Your stomach flips.

He laps them up, collecting them with his tongue. One at the top of your sternum, the middle of your breasts, the long dip on your stomach. Pearl after pearl, butterfly after butterly breaking havoc again in you. You’re swaying your hips before he even gets to your mound.

“Needy again? I haven’t finished here yet.”

A little, but not as desperately as before. You’re enjoying it. Feels as though you’re allowed to. And you tell him.

He smiles. Starts a series of open-mouthed kisses on your inner thigh. Sighs against your skin when you play with his hair, gently scratch his scalp with your manicured nails. Rubs your wet thighs, sucking the skin and biting it. Hard and soft, the blend of it. You’re on cloud nine.

“Gonna reward you,” he announces. You suck in your stomach, biting your lip. He touches your cunt and the digits just glide. Straight to your hole that needs his cum. “For doing such a good job. Fuck, you’re so wet.”

He rubs it in circles, teasing you. Watches your reaction. You throw your head back, moving your hips in tandem with the pads of his fingers. Soaked enough, he slips them into your mouth so you can taste yourself. You mewl. Sense his hot breath on your pussy. Sense him shifting in his spot erratically and you figure he’s grinding his hard cock against the couch.

“My turn now.”

He closes his puffy lips around your clit. Swirls the tip of his tongue around it. Merry go round, you throw your head back, enjoying the sensation. Then he puts pressure around the muscle and goes counterclockwise. Now you’re spinning, unable to stop the sounds, inter-threaded with his name, from slipping out of your mouth. Then he decides to tease you. Widens his laps of circles. Reaches your folds, makes them wetter. And it makes you feral, the waiting for the pleasure. You grip his hair, grinding into his face. His moans reach your ears again, and suddenly it’s too much. He sucks on your clit, and he sucks hard. Lifts your hips in the air and just ravages your cunt, licking up and swallowing all that you’re offering to him as he fucks his cock into the couch.

He’s grunting, rapidly shaking his head from side to side. You’re obscenely loud. His thrusts quicken as do the skilled flicks of his tongue. It’s way too fucking much and you’re screaming, but you let him. You let him until he rams his hips for the last time, until he sucks so hard that your hearing sense leaves you for a moment, and you’re coming. And so is he.

You don’t even know how long it takes before you fully come down, but you know one thing for sure. That when he stands up and you’re blessed with the sight of his unbuttoned jeans, his cock dripping with last drops of cum through his white (almost see-through) underwear, he deserves to be cleaned up by you just the same.

You make grabby hands at him when he returns with wet wipes.

“What is it, baby?” He sinks to his knees in front of you, taking out the wipe to clean you properly.

“Need you in my mouth. Please.”

He laughs softly and you think that sound will be your demise.

“You’re exhausted,” he tells you, wiping down your folds. “What you need is sleep.”

You don’t have the strength to prove him wrong. You’re spent.

He picks you up in his arms and takes you to your bed. He covers you in your fluffy blanket, knowing full well you hate to be under the duvet when you’re just napping. Tucks you in. Sits beside you. Brushes your hair back. Fixes the blanket so it rests under your chin, and not over your mouth. You watch him with droopy eyes as he does it all.

“Did so well today,” he murmurs. “But no overworking yourself so much next time, arasseo?”

You nod. “We came together again.”

He traces the dimple on your cheek caused by your contended smile. Finds himself smiling too. “That’s just how our bodies work together,” he tells you, hovering his thumb over your bloodied lip so as to not hurt you. “Can’t be helped.”

You nod again, warmth swarming in your chest. “I love it,” you admit. “I love you.”

Jeongguk presses a kiss into your hair. “No, I love you.”

“No.”

He shushes you. “Sleep well, baby,” he strokes you. Kisses you. Pets you. Can’t get enough. Hates to leave you. “My baby, my love, my girl.”

You hum. Sleep slinks you away to its land, smile remaining on your mouth.

Jeongguk returns to your living room and gets some cleaning supplies ready. Breaks a sweat making your dark green couch spotless. Takes a shower. Settles beside you on the bed. Cocoons you in his arms. Looks for you in dreamland.

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#jungkook x oc #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook smut #bts smut #bts imagine #jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook #bts scenarios #jungkook scenarios #jungkook fluff #btscreatorscorner #kpop smut #jungkook one shot

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jinxs-gf · 2 months

Text

Can I? (kiss the hurt away)

YJ!Conner Kent x Spider!Reader

summary: you get hurt during a mission and Conner just wants to help. this finally brings you two together.

content/warnings: set in s1, lots of wounds, blood mentioned, awkward flirting…this was a shared prompt w my two besties, here’s my version! (I switched it up a bit), funny writing bc it’s from spider!reader’s perspective (mostly)

word count: 2.1k

a/n: FIRST CONNER FIC YAYAYYAYAYAY I hope people actually read for him lmaooo…enjoy!

There's a ringing in your ear for a while, your vision blurred. Just as you come out of it there's a voice—

"You okay?"

One you're very familiar with.

You slowly blink your eyes open. You're not sure what the hell your enemy just blasted you with, but it was enough to knock you out and make everything hurt. A lot.

"Uhh I think so?" Conner watched the white eyes of your mask blink, he could tell you were in fact, not okay.

He could see it from a distance, the distance he unknowingly made while fighting. He promised himself he'd stay close at all times when the team was in danger, when you could potentially get hurt. And look at you now. His ignorance to what was going on around him got you hurt.

At least that's what he told himself.

You swat his hands as he starts fussing over you, too disoriented to think about the action. Until you see his hurt face. He was only trying to help.

But Conner thinks, you were pushing him away, and rightfully so when he's the reason you're hurt in the first place.

"No no it's-" you heave a rugged sigh, your lungs feeling heavy. "I'm just out of it. Sorry. What was that guy packing in his gun anyways?"

Conner's reluctant in his assistance to you now, but you encourage him with a smile. He lifts you to your feet, securing an arm around your waist to ensure you wouldn't fall back down. You definitely weren't in a state to be walking and that's proven when your legs wobble and all your weight falls onto him. Something he doesn't mind and in a different situation would smile at.

But you hiss as his pulls you up, and he's brought back to reality.

"Thanks Con-man." Another smile for him and his shoulders relax.

"I have no idea what that man was packing in his gun. All I know is it hurt you...really badly. You were out the rest of the fight."

"I was?" A quick look around and sure enough, you were. The quietness of the area should've been a clear sign there was no longer a battle going on.

"Looks like I was." And suddenly the team is behind you. It's a miracle the rest of them avoided getting hurt the way you did (which was a little embarrassing considering your spider senses).

"You alright, Spidey?" Wally and Artemis ask at the same time, they glare at each other for it.

"Jinx. Artemis, you owe me a soda."

"I do not-" you cut them off, ending the argument before it could start.

"Yeah I'm alright." But the way you leaned heavily onto the SuperBoy and breathed unevenly told a different story. Although that was nothing new, was it? You somehow were constantly hanging off the boy one way or another (not literally...though you wish it was).

"Are you sure? We'll have you get checked back at headquarters," Kaldur speaks. You simply nod, too weak to really do much else.

Robin was looking worriedly, trying to hide it but you could see right through him. You shot him a smile.

While the team discussed what to do with the bad guy, you stayed with Conner. There was an awkward silence until he spoke up, having enough of your small hisses and puffs at his side.

"What's wrong?"

"I don't know, everything? I'm hurting everywhere," you were practically mumbling, fatigue evident with every word you spoke.

He huffs and places you on the floor again, carefully avoiding any rubble from the fight. Another pained hiss from you.

"Sorry sorry, I know," he's trying to figure out his next move. "I don't know how to make it better."

You shake your head, "that's alright Conner. You don't need to, you're not a doctor or anything."

And yet he looks guilty, like your wounds and the fact that he hasn't already done something to ease the pain was his fault. He eyed the arm you've been holding around your abdomen this whole time.

"You being here right now is enough. I promise. And this," you lift your arm finally, making a soft noise of pain in between, "it'll go down by tomorrow-"

"Shit! When did that happen?" His voice startles you, the sudden noise rattling your probably concussed brain. You finally look down to see blood dripping from a scratch in your suit.

"Shit. When did that happen? How..."

"I didn't realize it was that bad. I'm sorry."

"No Conner, it's okay-"

"Can I?"

"Huh?" And Conner is gesturing to your mask, your eyes widen.

"You're breathing too heavily for it to be comfortable. Please?" He wouldn't say part of it was because he needed to see your face to comfort him.

You nod.

He doesn't freak out when he takes it off, so that's a good sign.

"How do I look?" he doesn't answer for a few seconds, he's carefully observing your face it seems. You can't help but smile.

And he smiles back, "still beautiful as ever."

"Okay lover boy," you desperately wish the mask was on, if only to hide your timid expression. "You don't need to flatter me."

Conner clears his throat quickly, awkwardly. As if he didn't realize he said it out loud.

He really didn't mean to. But seeing how shy and...dare he say happy you looked after he said it, he thinks it wasn't such a bad thing.

"You have a few scratches. But you're still-"

"Beautiful as ever, yeah yeah I heard you," maybe he wasn't going to say it again, but you weren't going to risk it. You don't think you could take it if he said it. You'd probably do something stupid like kiss him—

He swallows thickly, still embarrassed. "We need to get you back," he goes to pick you up, only this time it's not so you can stand upright. No. He's preparing to carry you bridal style. Oh no. Now you really might kiss him (that is if you don't pass out within the next few seconds). "Can I carry you? I don't think you're in good enough shape to walk right now."

"Rude."

"No I didn't mean-"

You laugh, maybe a little meanly, you knew he wasn't good on certain social cues yet, making teasing him easy, "sorry- I know what you mean. Yeah it's...alright. You can totally carry me." Now you were beginning to feel awkward.

He picks you up easily. And you're starting to agree with him, you definitely weren't in any shape to walk if him lifting you was enough to make you dizzy.

You weren't kidding yourself when you said you'd pass out before you could kiss him.

Your head lays comfortably on his chest...right over his heart which happened to be beating like crazy.

Was that your doing? You really hope so.

He carries you a little behind the rest of the team, murmuring reassurances and praise. 'You did good back there.' 'You're gonna be okay, I'll make sure of it.' 'Stay close to me okay? I'll make it better.'

Bioship took you all back to Mount Justice, M'gann talking your ear off the whole time. Starting with worried rambles about how hurt you looked and fading into a new tv show she got into. One she wished her people on Mars could enjoy.

Usually you wouldn't mind it, but you could feel an oncoming headache the whole ride. You didn't have the heart to tell her to stop nor that you weren't really listening. Not feeling bad only because Wally seemed enthralled with her storytelling (suck up) and flirted here and there.

You were too busy focusing on your shadow anyways. Aka the SuperBoy who refused to leave your side and was quite literally on you the whole way. Between him, M'gann, and Wally's flirting with her (and Robin's occasional butting in to tease) you were surprised you didn't go insane on the ride back.

When you did get back, they told you it was bad (fatal for a normal person) but nothing you couldn't handle. Just a broken rib (unfortunately common for you) and a slight concussion. Great. Accompanied with bruises and the big gash on your abdomen. That weapon really did a number on you. Conner went off on the adults for saying it was "nothing you couldn't handle" because you were "on the brink of dying". Which is a bit dramatic, but having him be so protective over you was kind of nice...or whatever.

They suggested you took a break for a week and a half (a conclusion you came to after you'd negotiated with them for a good 5 minutes. because who do they think they were benching you—for good reason—for 2 weeks?!) should a mission come up within that time.

You sighed on the couch, everyone was either in their rooms or went home for the day. They said their goodbyes and wished you well, to which you replied 'pfft I'll be better by tomorrow. just watch.' It would be really embarrassing if you weren't better by tomorrow...you unfortunately bet money on it. Stupid.

"You okay?"

"A little better now. Thanks for taking care of me."

"I wish I could've done more...I said I would but all I did was sit back and watch everyone else take care of you." This was clearly eating at him, although it's a wonder why.

Nothing about the situation was his fault nor should he feel guilty about "not doing enough."

"Conner, I told you it's alright and that you being there for me was enough. And I meant every word."

He sits with you, thigh to thigh with his head in his hands.

You pat his shoulder, "it's alright big guy. I'm okay, I'll be fully recovered soon."

"Not soon enough."

You sigh, he could be really stubborn sometimes. Frustratingly so.

"Con, please. Look at me?" He listens. And you regret asking him. You hate the look in his eyes, or rather you hate the way it makes you feel. Another case of you're going to kiss him if he keeps this up.

How could such a big, stubborn, and (apparently) non-affectionate guy have the biggest puppy eyes? Ones that have you melting.

His face is now in your palms. With the way he's looking at you, surely he wouldn't mind if you gave in and...kissed him, right?

"Can I kiss you?"

He's stunned for a moment before finally speaking up, "isn't it obvious that I want you to?"

You both share shy smiles thinking, finally.

You lean in, hands still cupping his face, his now doing the same.

Although the kiss was a little awkward, the two of you not exactly experienced in that department (him coming out of a literal tube only months ago), as well as a little...messy—it was everything you could've wanted in your first kiss with him. A kiss that was going to be the start of the two of you. SuperBoy and the Spider. You hated how warm the thought made you.

You were practically radiating giddiness, Conner could feel it. He pulled away still smiling, "I've wanted to do that for a really long time now."

"Me too. You know what also was great about that? You kissed my ouchies away. I'm all better now."

"Ouchies? What are we, five?"

There's silence, not of awkwardness, but from two of you reeling from the kiss, processing the fact that it was real.

"I don't want to be the one to break this up but...we should really get to bed. With your concussion and training being early tomorrow..."

"Yeah, of course," the giddiness hasn't left, "would you uh...want to come? With me? To bed."

"Gee Spider, at least take me to dinner first."

"Oh, so he's got jokes now?"

"Only for you, babe."

"Ew, you sound like Wally."

"Ouch? Don't insult me like that," but he doesn't look offended in the slightest. There's probably the biggest smile you've seen on his face, ever.

Safe to say it was not fun explaining why Conner was in your bed the next morning, trying to convince everyone it was purely innocent.

Batman was disappointed, reminding you that you needed to wait until you were healed before you did anything physical. Haha. Very funny.

And the team snapped pictures that they would definitely use against Conner (seeing as he was the more...emotionally constipated and reluctantly affectionate one).

But you honestly couldn't be happier. And neither could he.

does it seem a bit rushed at the end? unfortunately

do I have the patience to fix it? no

hope you enjoyed :D

#conner kent x reader #superboy x reader #young justice x reader #young justice Conner Kent #conner kent imagine #Conner Kent fanfic #kon el x reader #Conner Kent x male reader #Conner Kent x female reader #Conner Kent x gender neutral reader #Conner Kent x you #superboy x you #dc x reader #dc x you #dc x male reader #dc x female reader #spider!reader

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leafostuff · 21 days

Text

Private Appreciation [FT. TripleS Nien]

Tags: smut, established relationship, slow stripping, body worshipping, cunnilingus (at least an attempt lol)

Author's Note: quite short but it was fun writing, really into Nien lately so i had to write something about her, it does count as my September upload

I have been feeling a bit down lately so it took me longer than expected to finally finish the smut (started writing in 20/8/24), i hope yall enjoy it even though the end may feel a bit rushed.

=================================

“Baby…im horny”

“Nien, what the fuck?”

Honest question: was this the appropriate time for such a saying?

you and your girlfriend Nien are cuddling on your couch, watching some random romcom movie on a saturday afternoon, you would've gone outside and had a normal date but today your laziness was next level so you decided to stay at home, it's not like it was gonna get any less hot.

And here’s Nien, telling you the most random thing you heard this week (and for the time you know her, she said a lot of random things) during a movie where it's not like there is a sex or kissing since its was only the first 25 minutes of the movie, so there wasn't anything to trigger her.

“What do you mean ‘what the fuck’?” She whines while her eyes look as tired as ever. “I am feeling hot, wet and it's sure as hell not making it easier for me with all of the sexual tension going between them” she complains while pointing at the screen.

“They are just… flirting” you say, a bit confused

“And?! I can tell 30 minutes from now they are banging” she annoyingly added while her hand goes to grab some popcorn, cutely munching on it.

“Nien are…is it that-”

“NO ITS NOT THAT TIME OF YOUR MONTH” she responded, now angry at you. “I am just horny, and wet, and i need you RIGHT NOW,” she explains.

“In the middle of the movie though?? I already paid fo-” You wanted to ask when suddenly Nien leans forward to capture your lips and quickly releasing, leaving you surprised.

“Please jagi…?”

Its unfair how weak you are to her, the pleading puppy eyes that look at you with glimmer in her pupils, her innocent and sweet smile that will one day will be the cause of your death, and her nickname for you that sends tingles to your brain to switch into ‘yes’ mode almost automatically for her.

You sigh in defeat, its not like you couldve changed her mind anyways.

“Ok babe…lets do it” you say

“Yayyyy, thank you baby” she responds, pulling you into a tight embrace. “You are the best, you know that?”

“Brat” is the only word you can think to yourself when you see how happy she is as you cant help yourself but lean in and mesh your lips with hers engaging in a slow, lazy yet very sensual makeout session.

It's quite clear how much both of you enjoy this, making hums and quiet whimpers in between each kiss while your hands roams around each other’s back. Slowly you could feel Nien slowly fall into the couch with you joining her as now you are on top of herz still focusing on the kiss.

Release yourself from the kiss and look at her. Wearing a pink tube top that shows her smooth belly and tiny navel in their full glory paired with denim jeans that make her look more curvy than she is, her eyes look directly into yours with a mix of excitement and arousal, so you ask.

“Bed?”

“No, on the couch” she answers, “don't wanna move” she lazily said with a wide smile, with that logic you won't look for any arguments with her.

“Okay babe… what do you want me to do?” You ask, in the end, it's her wish to do this so who are you to not let her have it her way?

“My tummy…kiss it” she cutely pleads, you know how important foreplay is for Nien as in her eyes, foreplay is the key for having the best time. So nod with a smile before lowering your face to be parallel to her belly, take one last look at her before planting your first kiss barely above her navel, sending tingles directly to her brain.

“Ngh..yes…” she hums in excitement while closing her eyes, seeing her reception to your first kiss was good you continue peppering kisses all around her navel. Sometimes giving a teasing lick that makes her elicit a quiet moan.

“My pants…Ah-baby…” she breathes

“What about them babe? I can't read your mind” You teasingly ask, knowing exactly what she wants you to do with them but hearing her say it is part of the fun for you.

“Nghh…take them off” she instructs as you oblige, your fingers working diligently as each button of her jeans that you pop, you place a soft kiss directly to her belly button, after the last button is undone you lower her denim clothing down her thighs, revealing her white panties with a visable stain in the middle.

“You weren't joking when you said you were wet”

“shut up” she moaned, giving you a light smack on the head. “take the panties… off too baby".

“Should I continue kissing?” A simple question in which Nien just nodded, your hands now went to her panties, sliding them off slowly, letting the friction drive her insane as your girlfriend takes her hands and plants them on the back of your head.

Eventually, you leave her completely naked waist down, letting you see her soft thighs and her glistening sex without any obstruction as you could feel yourself get harder by the view. “What now babe?” You ask, waiting for your next orders.

“One hand on my thigh… and-” she stops for a second to release a small moan. “Kiss higher” It's hard for her not to sound needy, especially when you pleasure her midriff with only your lips and tongue.

But, her wish is your command.

So let your palm rest on her right thigh, knead and massage it to your heart's content, all to amplify her pleasure from you tenfold. Meanwhile, your lips travel up from her midriff, eventually stopping near the in-between of her two mounds.

A glance at your girlfriend and you know exactly what she needs as your free hand holds the hem of her top, slowly taking it off revealing no bra and instead a pair of boobs neither too small or too big, just the perfect size for you to let your face dive into the gap between her tits, savoring their sweet taste.

“YES…more….” Nien whines a breathy moan while you alternate between each mound, kissing and licking all around her nipples while her hands get inside the back of your shirt, gliding across your back in an attempt for her to be as close to you as possible.

This goes on for a while, you kiss your girlfriend’s entire body while she instructs you, telling you exactly how she wants to feel good from you, each correct action you follow causes Nien to moan loudly but eventually she pushes you away from her tits.

“What happened?” you ask, confused by the sudden push as she looks at you with a horny smirk.

“I want you to eat me out oppa”

Pause, Nien letting you eat her pussy out is something quite rare for her to suggest since she always felt it was a bit uncomfortable for her. Disagreeing with her request would be foolish of you so look down at her glistening pussy, waiting for you to devour it like your next dinner and let your face close between her thighs.

One last look at her grinning smile and you start

“Yess…” she hisses, your first lick sends tingles to her brain, causing her to wrap her legs around your head, meanwhile her hands grab your hair, trying to not lose herself in the haze, after that you let yourself run wild on her inner thighs and wet pussy with long licks and kisses.

She is still not close however, it is just the beginning for the both of you. So increase your pace slightly to raise the volume of Nien’s breathy moans let her thighs squash your face signaling how horny she is

“I'm close baby…” it's not hard to tell, how her moans are getting higher pitch, how her thighs are clamped around you and how her grip on your hair is harder, it may hurt but you don't mind, both of you are close to your high.

Eventually you let yourself enjoy the main course since Nien finally let herself go, her wetness flowing out of her as your mouth salivates her sweet taste, meanwhile her left hand gropes her left breast to amplify her own pleasure audible by her sensual moans

Eventually her climax comes to an end, her last wave of cum comes out of her pussy into your mouth. Raise your head and see Nien, a panting mess after the high she has been feeling all this time as now she also rises up from her lying position now seated near you, hands wrapped around you and leans in to kiss your right cheeks.

“Thank you, i feel much better now”

“Anything for you babe” you respond, returning the favor with a kiss of your own. You were helping your girlfriend find her clothes when suddenly you heard sounds of moans coming from the TV.

You forgot the movie was playing the entire time, the main couple were now making out, half naked and ready to begin their own endeavours for their orgasm.

“I CALLED IT!!”

=================================

Hope you have a good day leafies

#kpop fanfic #kpop #kpop smut #triples #nien triples #nien smut #triples smut #male reader smut #x male reader #kpop x reader

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httpsdana · 14 days

Note

Hiiii!!! can you write a jamal story with promt 107 where they're having an argument (he's at fault 🤭) with like HEAVY angst where jamal is lowkey being a meanie and not trying to understand readers side but ends in the cutest fluff tho (cuz can't accept sad endings 😭)

Btw FREAKING INLOVEE WITH UR WRITING UR LITERALLY SAVING THE JAMAL GIRLIES I SWEAR!!! 🙏🏻🙏🏻💗💗

Also thank you in advance!!!!! 😽🩷🤍

Lost In Translation~Jamal Musiala

THANK YOU SM FOR UR SWEET MESSAGE. i hope u enjoy this one 😙🫶🏻

request from here

master list

players/drivers I write for

107-"please stop. you're scaring me."

She felt it from the start of the season. Jamal had said he was going to give his best this season and push himself to his limits. He promised to avoid any distractions and focus solely on football, fully committing himself. What she didn’t expect was for him to avoid her too. It made her feel like she was the distraction, rather than the support he needed.

y/n woke up every morning without Jamal by her side. Every day, she rushed to the kitchen, hoping to see him and wish him a good day.

All she wanted was to hear those three words she felt like she hadn’t heard in forever. But every morning, she was disappointed to find that he had already left without even a "good morning."

When she returned from work, Jamal still wouldn’t be home. She knew his training sessions were intense, but she also knew he couldn’t possibly be training from 8 a.m. to 4 p.m.

She made him dinner every night, hoping they could share a moment together when he came home exhausted from practice. Instead, he’d arrive late at night, claiming he had been at the gym after training.

He no longer wrapped his arms around her at night. He hadn’t touched or kissed her in over two months. It felt like she was invisible to him, and she couldn’t take it anymore. She had to tell him how she felt, or she would have no choice but to let him go.

y/n sat in their living room, waiting for Jamal to come home. It was 10 p.m. After what felt like 100 episodes of her show, she finally heard his keys and the door opening. She remained seated on the couch, waiting for him. He walked into the living room, seeing her sitting there, watching TV.

“Hey,” he mumbled, dropping his bag on the couch and sitting down, keeping his distance from her.

She wanted to ask him about his day. She wanted to ask how he was feeling about the start of the season, especially given his incredible performance. But she didn’t. She just wanted to know what was going on and why he was avoiding her.

“We need to talk,” she said, looking at him intently, her voice blank and direct.

Jamal sighed, running his hands over his face, exhaustion clear in his features. “y/n, I’m tired. I just want to shower and go to sleep,” he said, already standing up to leave the room.

That’s what he always did, avoiding any conversation with her.

“No, Jamal. You’re not running away this time. We need to have a serious conversation, and you need to listen to me for once,” she said, standing up too, her voice tense with all the frustration she had been holding inside for so long.

He turned around, surprised by her outburst but clearly annoyed that he was going to have to talk. “What is it now?” he said, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms over his chest.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, her voice weak and hurt.

“What do you mean, what’s wrong? You’re the one who said we need to talk, and now you’re asking me what’s wrong?” he snapped, his voice getting louder with each word.

“What’s wrong with us? What happened? Did I do something to upset you? Why are you avoiding me and acting like I don’t even exist in this house?” she said, her voice trembling as she fought back tears.

“Oh my god. You’re always so needy, constantly craving attention. I can’t have you clinging onto me all day, y/n. I come home every night exhausted, and all I want is to sleep. But you’re there, nagging me because you can’t survive without attention. What am I supposed to do?” he shouted bitterly, stepping closer to her.

“I’m not asking for anything crazy! Just acknowledge me. Say good morning, make me coffee before you leave, tell me you love me at least!” she yelled back, her hands dropping to her sides in defeat.

Jamal was fuming, his face red with anger. She had never seen him like this before, and it scared her. He paced around the room, his steps heavy, before kicking a vase, shattering it to pieces. y/n flinched at the sound, stepping back slightly as Jamal moved closer.

“Please stop. You’re scaring me” she whispered as he stood in front of her, his face inches from hers. It was the closest he had been to her in weeks. She could feel the heat radiating from him, but his cold expression sent chills down her spine.

Jamal didn’t seem to hear her or care. Instead, he continued hurling hurtful words.

“I come home to rest. I don’t need anyone ruining my mood before I leave for training. I don’t need anyone distracting me from having my best season. So stop with the attention-seeking and deal with it. It’s not like I’m treating you as if you’re dead,” he spat, his words cutting deep into Y/N’s heart like knives.

She fought back the tears that threatened to fall, refusing to let him see her break.

“But you are, Jamal! You don’t look at me anymore. You don’t remember anything. You’ve forgotten our date nights, and we haven’t had a Sunday date in weeks. Sunday is your rest day, but instead of spending it with me, you choose to hang out with your friends, friends you see every day at training. Why can’t you acknowledge your girlfriend, who’s doing her best to stay calm and deal with the consequences of dating a footballer?” she cried, finally letting out all the words she had been holding inside for months.

“For fuck’s sake. You just don’t get it, do you? I’m going to shower and then go to sleep. I better not hear about this childish problem you’ve made up in your head again,” he said coldly, leaving the room and heading to their bedroom.

y/n collapsed on the couch, the tears she had been holding back finally breaking free. She pulled her knees to her chest and sobbed into them, her heart aching.

She didn’t understand how Jamal had changed so much, why he had become like this. They had been dating for years, and every year he wanted to have a great season, but this was the first time he had acted this way. She felt their relationship slipping through her fingers, and she didn’t have the strength to fight anymore.

After crying for a while, exhaustion overtook her, and she wanted to sleep. But she couldn’t bring herself to sleep next to Jamal after the hurtful things he had said. She began walking to the guest room when she heard his voice behind her.

“Where are you going?” he asked, making her turn to look at him. He stood there shirtless, fresh from the shower, his hair still wet and dressed in the shorts he always wore to bed.

“To sleep in the guest room,” she replied, turning away.

“Fine, be like that,” he scoffed, and she heard the bedroom door slam behind her.

She sighed and entered the cold, empty guest room, with only a bed in the middle. Lying down, she felt as though she were on a rock.

She closed her eyes, hoping for some rest, but after tossing and turning for hours, she gave up. She sat up, running a hand over her face, wondering if Jamal was struggling to sleep too.

A part of her hoped he was awake, thinking about her, just as she was about him. But she knew he was probably fast asleep, after using "needing sleep" as an excuse to avoid their argument.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the door creaking open. She looked up and saw Jamal peeking his head in to see if she was asleep. When he saw her sitting up, he entered the room slowly, standing awkwardly by the door.

“Can I... sleep next to you?” he asked nervously, avoiding her gaze and looking at the floor. When she didn’t reply, he looked up, seeing the hesitation in her eyes.

“I won’t touch you or anything. I’ll stay as far as I can,” he pleaded, his eyes begging for some rest.

y/n thought about it. She couldn’t sleep without him next to her either. “Please,” he said softly, and she finally gave in, nodding her head and moving to the far side of the bed, turning her back to him.

She felt the bed dip as Jamal lay down next to her. Even with the distance, she could feel the warmth of his body close to hers. y/n closed her eyes, hoping to finally get some sleep. As she drifted off, she felt his arm drape over her body, a small smile forming on her lips as she welcomed his warmth. She knew they would need to talk about their fight in the morning, but for now, they could rest.

Next morning, y/n had woken up by the sun that was shining in the guest room. She turned around, hoping Jamal was still next to her, but as usual, he had already left the room.

She let out a sigh, knowing he probably left to training too. She hoped he would stay and explain his hurtful words, but it seemed as if nothing happen to him last night. y/n entered the bathroom, washing her face and brushing her teeth, before going to the kitchen.

She was surprised when she saw Jamal there, his shirtless back to her as he was making breakfast. When he noticed her, he smiled at her, making her more confused. "good morning darling. I made you coffee" he pointed to the cup of coffee that was next to the coffee machine.

Jamal moves quietly around the kitchen, the sound of eggs sizzling and toast popping up from the toaster filling the silence. y/n sat on the counter, the cup of coffee next to her, arms folded, watching him, her heart heavy with the weight of the argument that’s still fresh in her mind.

He seems to be gathering his thoughts, carefully plating the breakfast before he turns to her, his expression soft but full of regret.

“I’m really sorry,” he starts, his voice low, almost hesitant.

“I’ve been thinking about everything, and I know I shouldn’t be trying to explain why I acted the way I did, because none of it excuses what I said or how I treated you. It was wrong, and I wasn’t supposed to do any of that.” He takes a deep breath, looking down at the floor before meeting your eyes again.

“But with the new coach and the new season, there’s been so much pressure. The coach has been really strict about us not getting distracted, and I... I let that get into my head.” he said, his voice weak and unstable.

y/n doesn’t respond right away, waiting for him to continue, her gaze steady as she takes in his words.

"I thought that maybe you were a distraction," he says, shaking his head at himself.

"But that was so wrong of me. All you’ve ever done is support me. You’ve been there through everything, my ups and downs, every game, every challenge, and instead of seeing that, I pushed you away. I don’t even know why I said the things I did... I just... I took my stress out on you, and I’m so sorry for that. I know it hurt you, and I regret it more than I can say.” he stuttered, seeming nervous

Her chest tightens, emotions swirling inside her as she thinks back to how hurt she felt. But she remains silent, waiting for him to finish.

“I shouldn’t have acted like football was more important than you," he continues, stepping closer.

"Because it’s not. You’re so important to me. Honestly, most of my success, it’s because of you. You keep me grounded, and your support means everything. It’s not just my talent that’s gotten me where I am, it’s you. And I was stupid for not seeing that." he said confidently, stepping closer to her

He looks at her, his eyes full of sincerity, waiting for some kind of response. She hesitates, his words slowly sinking in.

"You really hurt me, Jamal," she says softly. "It wasn’t just about football. It was about how you made me feel like I wasn’t enough, like I was in the way." she said, her voice filled with pain.

He nods, a look of guilt flashing across his face.

"I know, and I’m going to spend every day trying to make up for it. I want to fix this. I don’t want you to ever feel that way again." he said honestly

There’s a pause before he speaks again, his voice even softer.

"I took the day off today. I thought maybe we could go for a walk, spend some time together, and get some ice cream, if you want? I just... I want to make it up to you." he hesitated, waiting for her to speak

She tries to hide the small smile tugging at her lips.

"You got me with the ice cream. I can’t say no to free ice cream." she jokes

He chuckles, though there’s still a seriousness in his gaze.

"I really am sorry. I swear to you, nothing like that will ever happen again. Football’s important, but so are you. More than that, you’re more important." he said, grabbing her hands in his

"i believe you Jamal. I hope you don't break your promise this time" she said, giving him a small smile.

He smiled back, squeezing her hands in his.

"you won't regret it i promise" he said

After breakfast, they walk side by side, hand in hand, talking and catching up on everything that’s happened since the argument.

Slowly, the tension between them begins to ease. As they sit on a park bench, ice creams in hand, y/n leans her head on his shoulder, the warmth of the moment filling the space between them.

"I missed this," she says softly, closing her eyes as she let the comfort of his presence wash over her.

"I missed it too," he murmurs, placing a gentle kiss on her head before resting his against hers.

Everything was fine now.

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frantic-fiction · 6 months

Note

Hi!! I love your astarion stories so much, you are such a talented writer!

I have a bit of a weird request for an 18+.

I've heard theories that if a vampire like astarion drinks enough human blood that there's a slight chance he's able to get someone pregnant 👀 ...

I'm wondering if you could do a smut like something along the lines of astarion having a huge breeding kink, so he and Tav are experimenting with him drinking maybe more than he should of her but it's worth it if they have a chance at having a kid or something? Basically just asking for a smut about astarion having a breeding kink🥺

thank you so much for all you do!! Once again like I said you are so talented, and if you do decide to do something with this I'd love to be in the tag list.

Okay first off, this comment is everything thank you. You are just too nice I can't 🥰....and well I had so much fun writing this so I hope you like it lovely!

I Want 18+

Warnings: SMUT MDNI, Breeding kink, fingering, dry humping, slight daddy kink if you squint, Astarion being lovesick, slight dom/sub maybe? idk

Word Count: 2.5k of pure filth

Mastarlist

It started with a chapter in an obnoxiously repetitive book about vampires and their spawns. You had gifted it to him with a poorly concealed giggle on your lips.

Most of the content was either incorrect or exaggerated, and Astarion couldn't help but chuckle at the foolishness of it all. He was ready to throw the damned thing into the fireplace when his eye drifted over a passage.

Dhampirs: Creatures born from the union of a human and a vampire. The conception is incredibly rare, but the likelihood increases if the vampire indulges in a significant amount of the human's blood prior to sex.

Now, it can't seem to leave Astarion's mind. The idea of you being pregnant, being able to watch your stomach swell with his child, witnessing your breast grow and your hips fill out. How sensitive would you get as your pregnancy progresses? Would you crave him more than you do now? These thoughts alone have him throbbing in his trousers.

However, what sealed Astarion's fate was seeing you with Gale's newborn baby girl. The way love filled your heart the moment your eyes landed on that little girl sleeping soundly in the wizard's arms. How delicate you cradle the young one's head as soon as she's in your grasp, softly cooing down at the little bundle, stroking the smooth pink skin of her cheek.

And when you turned to him with that sweet smile that never fails to make Astarion weak in the knees, asking if he wishes to hold baby Dekarios. How could he say no?

Astarion never cared for fatherhood, but the moment that baby girl was in his arms, opening her eyes with that dopey, toothless smile, he was done for. And when she grabbed his pointer finger with her tiny hand, gripping it lightly with all her strength. Astarion knew he wouldn't stop trying until you were carrying his child.

You were finishing up the dishes, hips swaying to a tune only you could hear. The summer heat had you in shorts that fell just below the swell of your rear and a sheer top that revealed your lack of a bra. It's been a week since the visit to the Dekarios, and Astarion can no longer hold back the desires that burn deep in his body.

Astarion approaches silently, a predator stalking his prey. You rub your nose on your shoulder, trying to scratch an itch while your hands are covered in suds, groaning in annoyance when that fails to help.

Gods, you're adorable.

You're so carefree and relaxed, looking so soft, warm, and delicate. All open to his wandering hands and his greedy mouth. Astarion can already feel himself stiffen just from the knowledge of what he has in store for you.

A startled scream leaves your lips as Astarion's cold arms snake around your waist and pulls you against his hard chest. It does make him feel bad for a moment, but the delicate sigh that follows as he kisses up your jaw is enough to make up for it.

"Hello, my love." Astarion hums against your skin. His nimble fingers trail over your stomach, teasing the valley of your breast, taking careful movements to ghost his thumb over your sensitive nipple. A gasp leaves your sinful mouth, and you arch your back.

"H-hey," you breathe, and when Astarion grinds his tented pants against your backsides, you let out the most delicious whimper. "What are you up to, Star?"

His only response is a breathy laugh as he turns you around and pulls you into a kiss. Signing into his mouth, you hook your arms around his neck and deepen the kiss. It's messy, with soapy hands and mingling tongues, but it leaves you breathless. Astarion teases your bottom lip with his teeth before pulling away to bite your jaw playfully, relishing the surprised yelp you give him.

Astarion quickly lifts you onto the countertop, where he can nestle between your plush thighs. Your wandering hands move up to tangle into his curls and give a tug. Astarion obliges your silent request and resumes the kiss, licking deeply into your mouth. He's lost in the subtle floral scent of your shampoo and the taste of your lips.

You pull him away with your chest, heaving in deep pants. "Astarion, what are you--" He smirks when you trail off into a breathy moan as his teeth nibble at your ear.

"Darling, do you remember that book you gifted me?" Astarion's hands trail down your side, and you part your legs more for his reaching fingers.

"Y-yes, the one you scoffed at and threw in the corner?" Still having the sense of mind to tease him, he chuckles when your quip spills into a moan when the pad of his thumb presses against your covered clit.

Astarion is pleased with the dampening fabric of your shorts. Your responsiveness never ceases to leave him aching with need. He begins to move his finger lightly back and forth against the fabric. It's not enough to give you what you want, but it has you whining for more.

"Well, I must admit the poor excuse for educational text did have some interesting information." Astarion moves his thumb a bit rougher against your clit.

"What -fuck- what interesting information are we talking about?"

Astarion doesn't respond immediately, slipping his hand under the band of your shorts. He swipes his deft fingers through your dripping folds and begins to tease your entrance while he continues to rub tight circles against your sensitive bud. You gasp and drop your head to his shoulder, rolling your hips into his palm. Astarion cups the back of your neck with his spare hand and tilts your head back. You meet his heated gaze with lidded eyes and mouth agape.

"Dhampirs." Astarion purrs, plunging two of his fingers into your dripping core, curling up just enough to have you gasping his name.

Your fingernails dig into his forearm, clinging for anything to ground you. Astarion waits for you to react, loving the way you roll your hips in time with his fingers, desperate for all that he gives you. It seems you're lost in your pleasure or not quite catching on to what he's implying because you're looking at him, clearly not following his words.

"Half-vampires, my sweet."

You clench around his fingers, letting out a soft whimper that would have gone unheard without his heightened hearing. He smirks, picking up the pace. Astarion grabs your chin, guiding you to look at him.

"Does that excite you, darling?"

"Gods, shit," You breathe. "Please, don't stop."

"You would look so beautiful carrying our child. Hells, imagine."

Astarion trails his fangs over the skin of your neck, sucking on the pinprick from the previous night. His hips are now rutting against your leg and the edge of the counter, only enough to ease the ache in his groin. Astarion can feel you getting close just by the little jolts of your hips and the tight squeeze of your cunt.

"Do you want my child, love?" Astarion hums against your skin. "Do you want me to fill you to the brim with my seed, fuck you until you're a dripping mess? Until there's a little one growing in your womb."

"Please! Fuck, I'm going t-"

"Come for me, my sweet girl."

You cry out his name, and just as your orgasm rakes through your body, Astarion sinks his teeth into your neck and begins his feed. You're lost to the pleasure, your walls spasming around his fingers. He helps you ride out your release, never unlatching from your neck.

Astarion takes large, greedy gulps of your blood, far more than his usual fill. The book said a significant amount of blood was needed, leaving much to be interpreted. Astarion only stopped when you nudged him on the shoulder.

When he pulls away, you wipe the small trickle of blood that dribbles down Astarion's chin. Delicately he grabs your hand and sucks your thumb into his mouth, licking it clean.

"Astarion, let's go to our room. I think we have some things to explore," you say with a tempting smile.

Astarion is carrying you out of the kitchen and down the hall without another word, his lips locked onto yours.

You're giggling against Astarion's mouth as he kicks the door open and tosses you carelessly on the bed. You bounce on the mattress and watch the vampire hastily tear at the buttons of his shirt.

Tossing the fabric away, Astarion looks at you and unbuckles his trousers. The sight alone nearly has him cumming in his pants. There you are, lounging with that devious gaze, biting your lip and groping your breast like the tease you are.

"Fuck, sweetheart," Astarion breathe, practically ripping the rest of his clothes from his body. "Take your clothes off for me."

You do as you're told and quickly strip until you're bare and spread out like a feast just for him. Astarion now kneels naked at the foot of the bed and grabs your ankle, giving a gentle kiss to your calf.

"I've thought about nothing else but getting you pregnant since I read that foolish book," Astarion says, kissing his way up your leg. "Watching your stomach grow round with our child," He kisses and licks the soft flesh of your abdomen.

"Astarion," you sigh.

"To get the pleasure of taking care of you. Rubbing your swollen feet, and massage your aching back, even fetching every one of the disgusting cravings your pregnancy gives you."

"Says the blood drinker." You scoff, glaring down at Astarion between the valley of your breasts.

Astarion ignores you and bites at your chest playfully. "You would make such a lovely mother, darling. Please, love, let me make you a mother."

Astarion's words are laced with a tone of desperation. He might have been embarrassed if not for the need that consumes him: a need to see you nod at him with your beautiful smile, a need to hear you say you want this just as much as him, that you want to start a family with him, however unlikely it might be.

And then you nod your head and frantically pull him up into a kiss, and Astarion feels like he's alive once again.

"Gods, yes." You mumble, slinging your legs around him and pulling him down against your body.

Astarion licks into your mouth, kissing you like a man starved. You're just as desperate, grinding up against him, seeking friction, and letting out little whines against his mouth. Wandering hands trails down his back and between your two bodies, and Astarion lets out a pathetic moan when you grip his leaking cock, giving him a few teasing pumps.

"You're going to be such a good daddy, Astarion." You whisper sinfully in his ears as he fucks your hand. "Going to take good care of me and our little one."

"Hells, you wicked thing." Astarion grunts.

You run your thumb over the head, giving him a playful squeeze. Hot, open-mouth kisses are littered across his chest and up his neck until your mouth is right against his ear. Your warm breath floats over his skin, sending a shiver down his spine.

"Astarion love, I need you to put a baby into me."

Astarion nods, seemingly breathless, as you line him up at your weeping cunt. He presses in, and the room fills with debauched moans. You grab his neck, slamming your mouths back together, tongues back into their messy dance. Saliva coats each other's lips, but neither can get enough. Astarion grunts deep in his chest when you scratch your nails over his scalp.

"Oh my love, I'm going to fuck you until you're leaking with my cum. Filled to the brim until you can't take anymore." Astarion grabs your legs and pulls them over his shoulders, and you cry at the change in angle. "Then tomorrow I'll do the same, and the day after. Until we know for sure our baby is growing in your womb."

"Yes, Star. Wanna baby." You slur against him, pressing warm kisses wherever your lips can touch.

Astarion was fucking you as if this was his life goal. As if nothing else matters but the delicious feeling of his cock thrusting against your walls, pressing deep against your cervix. Seeing all of you with your cheek flushed and your chest rising and falling with rapid pants of breath, knees against your chest. Your eyes lidded, gazed over in pleasure, and your hair a mess against the white of the pillow. It was the sexiest display Astarion has ever had the pleasure to see.

"You're so beautiful. Gods, I love you."

"Love you," You try to say but choke on a moan. Your hands wander down his back and across his chest, seeming not to know where you want to touch.

Astarion is close but determined to feel you come around him before finding his release. Thankfully, he won't need to wait long because you're on the edge. So close. He can tell just by the way your gummy walls spasm around his cock, and the way your hips are jutting up against each of his thrusts.

"I know you're close, darling. Can you come for me? I want to feel you squeeze me while I fill you."

And with those sinful words, it was almost like you were waiting for his permission because as soon as they left his mouth, you were falling over the precipice. You clench down on him, a pleasured sob breaking free of your throat. The feeling of you alone was enough to tip him over, and he quickly found his release spilling his seed deep into your abused cunt.

The room stills, the scent of sweat and sex clings to the air. Astarion lets your legs fall to the side and maneuvers both of your bodies so that he's lying on his back and you're resting on top of him, head on his chest. Astarion rubs your back and kisses your hairline as you catch your breath. You trace lines across his skin, lost in thought at what had happened.

"So should I expect a little vampling running around soon?" you ask, looking up at him.

Astarion huffs a small laugh through his nose and kisses your forehead. "Human and Vampire reproduction is unlikely but not impossible," Astarion explains without the rush of arousal clogging both of your minds. "But I think we've done many remarkable things together, wouldn't you agree, my love."

You smile brightly and kiss his chest. "Yes, we do have a knack for doing the impossible. And I'm very, very eager to keep trying."

Taglist

@heartfully10 @ayselluna @marina-and-the-memes @anixson @canonicalchaoticneutral @toadsbitch @meulinkitten-blog @ambr4armr @lotusandcrystals @venussakura @synapticjive @skittleabyss @asterordinary @lariatbunny @whispering-depths @butchboi-chihuahua-slumlord @darkest-part-of-the-forest @queenofcarrotflowers-s @sessils @d20bunny@cherifrog@ophelia-ophelian @bgthree @darlingxdragon @mothynyx @completelyshatteredbrokenmschf @babyqnn @mmendez0124 @kokoyu-art @lilah-asteria

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#bg3 astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion #bg3 #astarion imagine #astarion ancunin #fanfic #reader insert #frantic fiction #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fic #bg3 tav #bg3 x reader #bg3 x you

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talesofesther · 1 year

Text

the one who stayed

Sebastian Sallow x Reader

Summary: For a moment, Sebastian thought he lost you, and now the guilt for what happened is eating away at him.

A/N: Yes, this is very random. I debated a lot on whether to even post this here or not, but, this Tumblr is, before anything else, a library for me to store my own works. I post everything I write here, so I figured this one shouldn't be the exception because I did like how it turned out.

Masterlist

Cold. That was all your brain could register at the moment; how the ground felt so cold underneath you.

"She's not moving."

You could hear a familiar, urgent voice right beside you. But as the seconds slowly trickled by like blood dripping from an open wound, it became increasingly hard for you to understand what exactly that voice was saying. Yet you could still register the fear laced within the tone, you could feel it in the shakiness of his hold.

Trembling hands held onto your arm, one of them slowly brushing against your skin until it found your hand.

You wished you could see his face right now. Sebastian had always been bold, confident. Though you were almost certain there would be a faint blush hidden under his freckles right now because of the intimate gesture.

But your eyes were heavy. Try as you might, you couldn't seem to blink them open. Come to think of it, your whole body felt heavy, maybe that's why you couldn't move. Even breathing was slowly turning into too much effort.

The hand holding onto your own tightened its grip.

People were talking around you. You couldn't make out any words anymore, they sounded like nothing but faint noise. The tune of his voice still kissed your ears, however; even if you couldn't recognize the words, you knew it was him. And he sounded erratic, scared. There was a tightness to it, syllables getting stuck in his throat; it was all wrong, you didn't like to hear him in this state.

A deeper voice was there too — you instantly recognized the timbre that belonged to the man who was always crushing Sebastian's hopes — and in the back of your mind, it brought anger to your chest. But there was nothing you could do anymore. Wisps of remaining magic tingled on the tip of your fingers and held your heart in a tight, hurtful grip. Maybe you'd gone too far.

A pair of rough hands then picked up your body, taking you away from the cold embrace of the catacomb's floor.

And when the blood dripping from your nose reached your lips, coating your tongue with a metallic taste, you realized that maybe you did go too far after all. Part of you could already hear the keepers berating you for rushing your abilities.

Consciousness slipped from your grasp shortly after that. Your head falling limp against someone's shoulder, and feeling a hand still holding onto yours.

—

Hogwarts' hospital wing was pretty quiet most days, only with the usual first year who scraped their elbow falling from a broom or suffering the effects of a spell gone slightly wrong. They never stayed for long though, nurse Blainey was all too used to these types of encounters.

Yet every now and then, one of the beds stays occupied for a longer period of time.

There were several beds — their metal frame and pale sheets doing little to ease the hospital vibe — one beside the other on each side of the spacious room.

You were glad to be put on one which stayed further away from the main doors; it made for more calmness this way. You had no need to engage with the unfortunate first years and could focus on leaning back and feeling the soft wisps of sunlight kissing your skin from the high window behind you.

It bothers you that you can't exactly remember how you got here. The nurse hadn't filled you with much information either; she told you an older man had brought you in, talking about a casting exercise gone wrong and you overworking yourself; she also said you remained unconscious for about 15 hours before finally waking up — pale, weak, confused.

Most of those feelings still crawled under your skin. Your body is still feeling 10 times heavier than it actually was. You wanted to get up and run off to find Sebastian but you had a nagging sensation that, if you did so now, you'd fall face-first on the floor.

The fabric of the thin blanket draped over you felt soft as you worried it between your fingers, nearly tearing it apart. The last thing you remembered was being in the catacombs, with Sebastian, and wanting to do nothing but protect him — both from himself and his uncle.

His uncle.

Could it be that he was the one who actually brought you back to school?

You doubted Sebastian would have the strength to carry you all the way back here — as much as he might fight you on that argument.

Running a hand through your hair, you pulled at the roots. Your frustration escaped with a long sigh.

The old floorboards creaked under a new weight. At first, you assumed it would be nurse Blainey coming back to check on you. But, from the side of your eye, you caught a glimpse of green, and your heart fought against your ribs, trying to escape your chest.

Sebastian stood a few feet away from your bed, though you could hardly recognize him. The brown locks of his hair were all over the place, way messier than usual; his eyes had a red tint to them, mixed with dark circles of someone who hasn't slept in a while; his usual grin was nowhere to be seen, instead replaced with a pained frown; his hands held onto his robes with a death grip.

"I heard you were awake."

His voice didn't sound like the one you had grown to love.

"How are you feeling?" The question stumbled past his lips and he avoided your eyes shortly after. He sounded as if you would yell at him to leave at any moment. It only got you more confused.

"Better, a little weak still," you bit at the inside of your cheek. This moment shouldn't feel as fragile as it does. "Care to tell me what happened?"

You didn't think your tone was harsh, but Sebastian flinched at your voice anyway. Bad memories washed over him like a bucket of icy water.

He met your gaze before hesitantly closing the distance between you, choosing to sit at the edge of your bed.

He looked worse up close. Eyes distant, trapped elsewhere.

"We were fighting against my uncle and the-" Sebastian gulped, guilt squeezing at his throat like barbed wire, "the inferi."

You acknowledged his words with a soft nod, slowly remembering things as he spoke. You pushed yourself up to sit straighter, just a couple of inches closer to Sebastian. He looked like he needed it.

The words lingered on his tongue. You never thought you'd see him this way; hesitant, lost, regretful. With tears on the verge of spilling over his freckled cheeks.

"You were trying to reason with my uncle; and me, for that matter," Sebastian chuckled halfheartedly, "trying to stop us from killing each other, when the inferi started to close on us. You didn't think twice, and all I saw were lighting strikes coming through the ceiling of the catacomb, destroying everything but us, and… you laying on the floor afterwards."

Memories were clearer now. Sebastian had attacked his uncle after he destroyed the relic and they started exchanging spells at each other while the inferi slipped from Sebastian's control. Everything could go very bad, very quickly. You remembered trying to speak with them, make them see past the anger clouding their judgment. But it was to no avail. What you remember the most, however, was seeing Sebastian so focused on his uncle, and unaware of the mass of inferi coming towards him.

You really hadn't thought twice at all. Ancient magic flowed through your veins like wildfire; it was all you could feel. The rumbling of thunder became your heartbeat. You killed each and every one of the creatures, burning out all of your energy in the process.

"And what of Solomon?" You found yourself wondering.

Sebastian pursed his lips. His eyebrows scrunched slightly as his body tensed for a moment and then relaxed again. "We stopped fighting as soon as I ran up to you. I- I begged that he'd help me bring you back to school. I'm not sure where he is now." His body shook with each intake of air. "Or Anne."

"Well, guess my plan worked after all. At least I got you to stop fighting," you tried to lighten the heavy air around you and Sebastian, mustering a teasing grin as you tilted your head to try and catch a glimpse of his eyes.

Sebastian worried his lower lip between his teeth to keep it from quivering. There was no witty remark, no ironic comment. Nothing. His tears were one blink away from spilling over.

Maybe if you listened closely, you'd be able to hear your heart shattering. For him. For this broken boy barely holding the last pieces of himself together in front of you, for this boy who stood so desperately alone in the world.

You reached out, your hand closing tightly around Sebastian's — because you couldn't bare seeing him alone one second more. Your thumb brushed against his skin. You could feel his trembling. "We'll find him, and Anne. I promise we'll figure things out, Sebastian."

He was shaking his head before you even finished speaking, squeezing his eyes shut and causing a single tear to roll down his cheek. "No, you don't understand," his broken words fell from his lips at the same time he pulled away from your touch.

"I never-" Sebastian stood up then, choking on his own breathing as he looked at you with a mix of longing and anguish. "It was never my intention to hurt you… I'm sorry," he whispered, so quietly that if the hospital wing wasn't as empty as it is, you would've missed it.

"Sebastian, you didn't-" you cut yourself off when he abruptly turned away from you and started marching towards the main doors of the spacious room, putting as much distance between you and him as he could.

The fatigue still gripping at your muscles was the last thing on your mind when you threw away the covers and stood — albeit on shaky legs — to go after him. "Sebastian, please wait," you called, grimacing as he took your heart with him.

Ultimately, you didn't go very far. Nurse Blainey stopped you in your tracks before you could even reach the middle of the room.

—

The sun rays shining through the tall stained glass windows were warm against your skin, doing little to help with your current sleepy state as you tried to at least pretend to be paying attention to class.

"It's been nearly a week, Ominis." You groaned, folding your arms on top of the table so you could lay your head down, "do you think he's mad at me for trying to stop him?"

The boy sitting beside you chuckled quietly, twirling his wand in his hands. "Darling, I don't think Sebastian could be mad at you even if he wanted to."

Before you could ask what he meant by that, Professor Binns walked by a little too close for comfort; his ghostly form sending a shiver down your body.

"He's been spending most of his evenings hiding away in the Undercroft," Ominis felt around on the table until his fingers brushed the fabric of your robes, he gently closed his hand around your wrist and squeezed comfortingly. "I believe it would do both of you some good if you went to see him."

—

It was mostly dark out already. The sky slowly filled with stars as night settled in and a soft cold breeze hung around the DADA hallways. The pristine floors reflected the image of your shoes, pacing back and forth restlessly.

You were having second thoughts. Apprehension tugged at your heartstrings because as much as you didn't want to admit it, the sight of Sebastian walking away from you so desperately that day had stung.

Though no matter how much you stalled, you knew you'd relent. The sleepless nights you've been going through lately are enough of a telltale of the effect Sebastian has on you.

A deep breath filled your lungs and you closed your eyes, pleading for your heartbeat to settle as you pushed open the door to the Undercroft.

The familiar warmth hugged you instantly. All of the candlelights dimly shining against the stone walls forced away the frown that clung to your brows. You'd never blamed Ominis for being so protective of this place, it really was the perfect hideaway.

You found Sebastian pretty quickly. He sat on the floor against the far wall to your right, knees tucked close to his chest as his wand moved delicately, making a paper bird flap its wings and fly around in front of him. The bird fell limply to the floor when Sebastian's eyes landed on you, however. You thought you saw him gulp and straighten his back too, but other than that, the Slytherin boy expressed no other reaction upon seeing you. It felt almost as if he was expecting your arrival.

Your feet were momentarily frozen to the stone floor, Sebastian's gaze burning through your soul. You also couldn't help but notice how lonely he looked, just sitting there by himself; it made your stomach turn unpleasantly. You wondered if he considered himself deserving of it.

It was as if you spoke with your eyes for a beat. You saying that if he wanted you to leave, you would. And Sebastian pleading for you to stay.

All that could be heard were your steps echoing through the Undercroft as you carefully came to sit beside him. Your shoulder just shy of touching his.

The silence wasn't a comfortable one, but it also wasn't awkward. It was just heavy. There was a tension in the air that none of you knew how to address.

Sebastian's knuckles were white around his wand, he sat stiff beside you, not once glancing your way.

You figured that if you didn't speak, you'd be sitting in silence for hours. You glanced down at the paper bird that lay discarded on the floor, your lips quirking up just slightly as you picked it up; "you know, my mother taught me how to make these when I was younger. Without magic, that is." You chuckled. You rarely spoke about your parents, it was a sensitive topic. But it was your way of trying to make Sebastian feel more comfortable to share what he was feeling with you; what was bothering him.

"I used to get rather frustrated when I couldn't get it right the first times," you gently inspected the small bird with your fingers, thumbs running along the smooth white paper, "but she'd always tell me to take a breath, count to five, and start again."

With your eyes fixed on the paper bird in your hands, you didn't notice Sebastian's eyes fixed on your profile. The grip on his wand loosened slightly as he committed every detail of you to memory.

A shiver ran down your back when you finally turned your head to face him again. He was close, your breaths mingling as the lines of your relationship blurred and burned with the candles.

"Sebastian…" You breathed, watching the way his eyes darted to your lips and back to your eyes, "about what happened at the catacombs, I'm-"

"Don't you dare say you're sorry." He cut you off suddenly, voice quiet and a little choked, but firm.

"I am, though," you leaned your head back against the stone wall, involuntarily leaning closer to him as your body gravitated to his warmth. "I'm sorry things didn't go as planned, but I promise we're not gonna stop looking for anything else that might help Anne."

Sebastian averted his gaze from you, furrowing his brows. You saw tears steadily collecting on the bottom lid of his eyes, despite his efforts to hide them. "Stop it," he mumbled.

You shifted in your seat, your jaw set tightly in place. The beats of your heart against your chest were painful. The thought of Sebastian distancing himself from you was painful. So much so that you fear you'd be willing to do anything to fix it, within reason or not.

"I mean it, Sebastian, I will do anything-"

"Stop it! You don't get it, do you?" He snapped, his eyes burning into yours again and shining under the candlelights. "I saw you laying on the floor of that damned catacomb and I thought you were dead!" The syllables broke and stuttered past his lips, the pain and fear he felt that day came back in waves and twisted his expression.

You were stunned to silence, watching as Sebastian opened his mouth, lower lip trembling as he searched for his voice again.

"Do you have any idea of what that felt like?" He whispered, words strangled and squeezing his chest until he had trouble breathing. You were nothing but a blur in front of him. Sebastian pursed his lips to try and keep himself from breaking. Speaking it out loud somehow felt like making it real. "I thought I'd just lost you, and… and it would be my fault."

The feeling of your gentle thumb carefully brushing against his cheek brought Sebastian back to reality, and he realized his tears were already dripping down his chin.

"I would never blame you for what happened," you shook your head, smiling sadly as you felt your own eyes sting, "you were just trying to help your sister, when everyone else had given up."

"I will cure Anne… but not at the expense of you," in some ways, he looked surprised at his own words; at the truthfulness of them. He gulped back a sob, "I thought I could control it," Sebastian breathed in sharply, avoiding your gaze but leaning into your touch, "I went too far, as Ominis has probably told you a thousand times already."

You chuckled softly, sneaking your fingers over his jaw and until they disappeared between the brown locks of his hair. Sebastian closed his eyes briefly at your comforting touch, allowing himself to melt against you. "He's more understanding than you give him credit for," you smiled.

That got half a smile out of Sebastian, his freckles highlighted by the candles around you. His hand inched closer to your free one resting on your lap, the tip of his fingers timidly closing around yours, craving more of you. His pupils were blown wide when he finally looked up at you again.

"I promise to never do anything this reckless again." His low tone left no room for doubt.

You leaned in slightly, feeling his fringe tickle your forehead. You thought you heard him trying to suppress a gasp, but maybe it was your foggy mind playing tricks on you.

There was a glint in his eyes you'd never seen before, still shining with remains of his emotions; but vulnerable, calm, loving.

"I am quite fond of your reckless side, though."

Your unexpected words brought an endearing blush across Sebastian's freckles. You felt the shape of his teasing grin when his lips touched yours.

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keeps me motivated to continue posting here, so I’d appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment if you want. <3

Sebastian’s taglist: @milkiane @v1ci0us

#sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow imagine #hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow x you #sebastian sallow x f!reader #sebastian sallow x f!mc #hogwarts legacy x reader #imagine #fanfic #angst #fluff #sebastian sallow fanfiction #my story

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misc-obeyme · 1 year

Note

Hello hello!!! I just saw your kink/flufftober post and wondered if I could request “biting” with barbatos? It can be either fluff of nsfw, whichever gets the creative juices flowing more! As always, love the work you do here, thank you!!!!

Hello and thank you I'm so glad you're enjoying my writing! <3

I was doing so well keeping within my word count limit until now. I can't act like I'm surprised, it's Barbatos we're talking about lol. And I decided to use this as a kink prompt because ooooof I love biting. So you know, having two things I very much enjoy as a prompt ended up with something slightly longer than perhaps intended. But I think it turned out okay still!

Thank you for submitting a prompt!

KINKTOBER 2023

GN!MC x Barbatos

NSFW MDNI

Warnings: biting, a little bit of blood, oral and penetration (both reader receiving)

You were in the kitchen at the Demon Lord's Castle, helping Barbatos make red velvet cupcakes. Since it was a flavor from the human world, you had agreed to help out with making them, passing final judgment on how they turned out. You were currently mixing the red food coloring into the batter. While the recipe you had used was a classic red velvet recipe, the bright color of the cake still needed that extra vibrancy from the food coloring.

Barbatos was beside you, mixing vanilla into the frosting.

Normally, Barbatos entered a sort of flow when baking. It was almost meditative, the way he moved around the kitchen so easily. But at that moment, you noticed that he seemed a little distracted. Certainly the frosting was looking delicious, but he seemed to be focused elsewhere.

You stopped what you were doing and looked over at him. He froze, meeting your eyes for a moment before flicking his gaze down to your fingers.

You looked down at your hands and saw that they were covered in red food coloring.

You laughed a little. "Sorry," you said. "I'm making a mess, huh? Is that why you're so distracted?"

Barbatos closed his eyes and frowned. "You needn't apologize, MC. I'm afraid seeing that brilliant red on your skin has made me think of things I shouldn't."

You were puzzled by this response. You cocked your head curiously. "Such as…?"

Barbatos opened his eyes and the hunger you saw there made heat run through you. Barbatos put down the spatula he'd been using to mix the vanilla into the frosting and took one of your hands instead. He brought it to his lips and kissed away some of the red. The way it painted his lips was so sensual your knees went weak.

You let out a little gasp as Barbatos circled behind you, putting his red stained lips to your neck. You had to grip the kitchen counter for support as he sucked for a moment, his arms going around your waist.

Barbatos let his teeth scrape gently across your skin as he pulled his lips away. "Forgive me, MC. I am not sure what has come over me."

His arms moved as if he was about to move away from you, but you put both of your hands on them. You didn't care that you were likely getting red food coloring on him. You just wanted to hold him in place. "Don't stop."

Barbatos pressed himself into you and there was no mistaking the erection you felt against you as he put his lips back on your neck.

You moaned as he bit down gently, as though he couldn't resist but he also didn't want to hurt you too much.

You deliberately pushed yourself back against him, making it clear that you knew how turned on he already was.

Barbatos laughed softly against your neck. "What is it you would like from me, MC?"

"I want you to bite harder," you said.

Barbatos put his lips on your ear. "As you wish."

A tingle ran up your spine at the sound of his voice in your ear. He turned you around in his arms, then lifted you bodily. He set you down on the kitchen counter, on a spot that was far away from where you had been attempting to make red velvet cupcakes.

In moments, Barbatos had removed your clothes and put his lips on your inner thighs. Your hands flew to his head, fingers running through his hair. You gasped and tried desperately not to pull when he bit down on the sensitive skin there, harder than before just as you had asked. He worked his way up your thigh, biting the whole time, making you gasp and whine as he did.

When he finally put his tongue between your legs, you cried out his name, your legs squeezing around his head involuntarily. He stayed there for a long time, but he never let you get too close to orgasming.

Barbatos finally stood up, causing you to whine and grip at his arms unhappily. You squirmed on the counter top as you tried to pull him closer to you. He obliged, moving closer to stand between your knees.

Barbatos reached out and put his fingertips to your neck where he had been biting it earlier. He wasn't wearing his gloves, of course, he had taken them off long before you even started baking. Now his fingers were covered in the red food coloring.

"Barbatos," you said as you pulled on his pants, unzipping them and pulling out his cock. You rubbed it in your hands for a moment before looking at him. "Please."

"Normally I would not allow such a mess to occur on my kitchen counter," Barbatos said quietly, putting his hands on either side of you and leaning in to your neck once again. "But I'm afraid you've awakened something in me, MC."

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders in an attempt to pull him closer. You realized that the counter here was a bit lower than it was in most of the other places in the kitchen. Which meant that you were at the perfect height. You smirked a little when you realized that Barbatos knew exactly what he was doing when he placed you here.

The smirk was gone in an instant as Barbatos pressed his cock into you, his teeth leaving marks on your neck at the same time, his hands gripping your hips. You had to hold on because as soon as he was inside you, Barbatos did not hold back. You felt your entire body heat up as he thrust fast and hard, his teeth continuing down your neck. He reached up to pull your top out of the way so he could bite down your shoulder.

The sweetness of his cock inside you mixed with the pleasurable pain of his teeth was almost too much sensation. You couldn't hold still and you couldn't keep quiet. You were already close from when he was using his tongue and it wasn't long before you were crying out, clamping hard around him. You felt his cum inside you only moments later.

When Barbatos pulled away to look at you, the red of the food coloring was still bright against his lips, but there was a slightly darker red next to it now. He leaned back in and kissed the bite marks he had left.

"Your blood is much prettier than this food coloring," he said softly in your ear. "I do hope I did not hurt you too much by drawing it."

You sighed against him, leaning your head on his shoulder. "Next time you can add the food coloring to the batter."

Barbatos chuckled, taking your face in his hands and kissing you. Later you would need to wash the red off your hands as well as your lips, cheeks, neck, and thighs.

flufftober | kinktober | masterlist | Thank you for reading!

taglist: @anxious-chick @t0tallycoolname @libidinous-weeb

#apparently Barbatos only allows sex in the kitchen when he can't control himself #which seems to happen when there's food coloring involved?#I dunno I just write what the smut muse brings me #obey me #obey me nightbringer #obey me shall we date #omswd #obey me smut #obey me barbatos #obey me barbatos smut #om barbatos #barbatos obey me #obey me barbatos x reader #obey me barbatos x mc #obey me x reader #misc kinktober 2023 #misc naughty times #misc writes

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fonteyn · 1 year

Text

something wrong with me and you

Pairing: Marquis Vincent de Gramont x afab!reader. No use of Y/N

Word Count: 1.6K

Warnings: smut. slightly dub/con, including spanking, teasing, making the other beg, etc. Minors do not interact. +18 rating.

Author's note: who knew me going to the movie theater to watch john wick 4 was going to bring my fic writing era back from the dead lmao, maybe I'll finish other fics I abandoned along the way

I do not consent to any of my work being reposted on other websites.

At first, it was a night like any other.

Until he showed up, deciding that on this evening you were worthy of his time.

His lips reached closer to the shell of your ear while you struggled to hold in a sigh. He’d been at it for hours, tentatively running his nose on your neck, poking for a show of weakness on your part.

And you knew you were at the precipice of failure. The relentlessness of his continuous challenges made an inevitable dent in your resolve to deprive him of his wishes.

"I can give you everything, mon amour”, his full body pressed you down onto the mattress, fingers gripping your inner thighs, “everything you could ever want and more."

At this point, this had become a bit of a habit of his. Speaking these infamous words every single time you were with him. To the point of annoyance.

Be it in the low lights during a theater performance, in the middle of a crowded restaurant, or - as you were now - in his bed, draped in nothing but luxurious jewelry and the expensive silk of his sheets. It seemed he had become fixated on tantalizing you with unreachable realities.

"Isn't that what you want, darling?", he teased with a playful smile, just before nibbling your shoulder, teeth sinking into your skin followed by the soothing of his tongue.

His pleasure in the act of mocking you was palpable, even more so when you were at a point of nearly squirming underneath him, "It is no shame to admit it", he continued, "don't you want to be all mine?".

You could no longer hold it in anymore, fighting power running out.

A shaky nearly broken moan left your lips along with a tremble through your body, and you threw your head back as his left hand found your waist. The right one lowering down smoothly - from your waist to your thigh, teasing the idea of doing something about the mess he created - before moving on, with a caress, all the way to your calf.

His hand settled, wrapped around your ankle, as he moved away from you, getting up from the four-post bed.

You were about to voice disappointment when you felt a tug on your ankles.

A surprise noise was once again dragged out of you as Vincent yanked you closer to the end of the bed, where he stood.

His once perfectly pressed shirt hung open. The slicked hair was now messy as a result of the good work from your fingers, both in the back of the limousine and on the elevator that took you both to the upper levels of his home.

Still pliant from all the effort he had put into making you putty in his hands, you lifted yourself up on your forearms, noting the harness of his length, which he had been rubbing against you ever since before you left the private dining room.

You were often fascinated by how the regality of his every move seemed impossible to rattle, even on the most heated nights.

A person could easily mistake the coldness of his stare to believe it meant indifference, after all, the Marquis de Gramont was a hard man to impress.

But you knew better.

You’d seen him beyond his title, his wealth, his ruthlessness.

And he had seen you.

His eyes almost twinkled from pent-up desire and as if he couldn’t help himself, he forcefully grabbed your chin, bringing your lips ever closer

Merely an inch separated you from the kiss that would soon follow.

Though before you could seal the deal, you became entranced by the sight of him licking his lips and the raspy whisper that followed.

"Say it to me. Say that you want to be my little marchioness. I can't give you what you want unless you say it."

You couldn't help but reach forward, your teeth sinking on his lower lip, making him hiss. Both of his arms wrapped around your waist, holding you in place.

A smirk on your lips was inevitable, "Who's doing the begging now?"

That would just about do the trick on him, his body stiffening immediately and you braced for what would soon follow.

“Well, the night is not over is it?”

He admired your defiance in the face of his authority. How most times, even if you stood before him deprived of a single stitch of clothing, you were still able to look him in the eyes, as if you held all the cards. As if he couldn’t - or wouldn’t - ever harm you in any significant way.

Refusing to back down, teasing him to react first.

Admit it first.

To say just how much he wanted you.

How much he craved for you. How he woke up and thought of you. How much he wished he was inside you all day, every day.

And sometimes, even more dangerously, how he saw a particular painting and thought of you. Wondered if you would like it. Played out in his head how he was going to tell you all about it and then show it to you. The same had been happening a lot with clothes. Gowns he saw and only pictured how you’d look wearing them, and the way he would go about getting them off later.

The look you gave him during dinner while sipping on the most expensive wine from his private collection…It was enough to make him want to stop the world. Bend you over the table and fuck you until you pleaded with him to let you finish.

Tonight, however, he was tired of your games. Vincent was no longer interested in making you squirm, he wanted to make you scream.

If you refused to admit your obvious desire when he was being so nice, he was going to make you beg out loud.

He flipped you around, sturdy hands on either side of you forcing you to go on all fours for him. Aware that you hated not seeing his face while he took you.

For a moment, he basked in that power.

Of how despite all your fight, your snark, your feigned indifference when he spent weeks without seeing you and suddenly turned up at your door, you were still pliable to his will.

One of his large hands maneuvered to make sure you couldn’t switch positions, holding your neck in place. The cold metal of his ring tingling against your skin. Demanding that you stare forward, towards the headboard, stealing from you even the mere possibility of catching a glimpse at what he was about to do.

A slap came down hard on your ass, earning him a choked gasp. His hand soothed the now pained spot for a second before another slap soon followed. And then continued his motions, one after another until you lost track of how many spanks you had gotten. Being only mildly aware of the prickling of your skin, and more consumed by the wetness dripping from your core.

A whine ripped through you as he finally placed his thumb on your pussy, caressing you thoroughly.

“Fuck…”, you muttered a satisfied near-sob.

“Mmmm…not yet, mon amour”, Vincent teased, “unless you’re ready to beg for it.”

He splayed his hand on your lower back, moving you closer to his cock, and you held your breath as you felt him gripping his length behind you.

“Are you ready, darling? Are you ready to beg for me?”

“Yes!”, you mewled, nearly adding a “please” after.

You knew he was shaking his head at you, “It is truly a pity you have not spoken the correct words.”

You hissed as he grazed the head of his cock on your entrance, teasing but not making any moves towards pushing inside.

Vincent smiled, if you wanted him you’d have to say it, and he knew you were close to breaking.

“F-uck, fuck, okay”, you relented, backing yourself up further against him, “please…please…fuck me, I can’t…I-I want you, I need you so fucking bad.”

He wanted to resist you, as you had resisted him. He wished he could.

Vincent liked to think of himself as a man with enough resolve to spare, but that was always a challenge when it came to you.

When he said he would give you whatever you wanted, you thought it was a tease, a joke, a lie. You were wrong.

Not another sigh from you was needed to make him plunge his cock inside you and set a fiery pace, embracing your warmth as he moved one hand toward your nipples, pinching them so hard you started screaming.

Time lost all meaning, and sounds felt far away as he pounded inside you, setting a relentless pace.

Neither of you spoke, but both panted in pleasure.

One of your hands reached out towards his own, the one that is holding your neck, intertwining your fingers in a way that allows you to finally move your head back towards him.

Searching for his lips.

Unable to deny you any longer - and consumed by his own desire - he complied. Draping himself closer and closer, as if he wanted to consume you fully. Covering your body with his own, devouring your mouth with vigor, until neither of you can hold on.

You’ve deprived each other for too long.

He waits for you to finish, a wave of ecstasy ripping through you, as he fucks you even harder, chasing his own release with a shout.

He soon lays down on top of you, and in your lightheadedness, your fingers intertwine with each other.

Holding on for as long as you can.

Unaware of the great lengths the Marquis will go to make you, his.

#marquis vincent de gramont #vincent de gramont #marquis de gramont x reader #bill skarsgard x reader #john wick fics #fics #mine #smut #bill skarsgard smut #marquis vincent de gramont smut

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zerobaselove · 1 month

Text

tell me about it | park gunwook

pairing: gunwook x reader

genre: fluff

word count: 792

warnings: none! lowercase intended, not proofread literally At All this is just self indulgent

notes: i started playing a new game today and then decided to write this idk this is so messy and just my thoughts on paper (on a screen? idk) sorry this sucks i needed to let the delusions out

"i'm home!" you heard gunwook call out from the front door, his footsteps approaching your shared bedroom where you sat. it was a rare day off for you, with absolutely no chores or errands to run, you had the day completely to yourself while gunwook went to work. and it was glorious.

"wook! i finally bought that game i was telling you about!" you enthused, hands still gripping the controller as you peeled your eyes from the tv. gunwook wrapped an arm around your shoulder, placing a kiss on your temple before glancing to the tv. "so?" he smiled, "is it everything you hoped it would be? tell me all about it!"

that was one of the things you loved most about your boyfriend; he always wanted to hear about your interests, and actually listened to your useless info dumps. he would even do the same with his interests, and you loved it. watching him go on and on about the new game he was interested in or the new show he had been binging was the highlight of your days. you loved watching his face light up as he talked about a character he enjoyed or a cool plot twist.

and he always returned the joy when it was your turn to ramble on. and ramble on you did.

you gave him a full rundown of the plot so far, recounting the boss fights in great detail, even talking about the techniques you had to use to target their weaknesses or the close calls with death you had encountered during the fights.

"and there's this really cute little cat character! not that that's important really but it definitely adds some bonus points!" you beamed, causing the boy to laugh and ruffle your hair lightly from where he sat beside you on the bed.

"so wait," he started, "you had to fight the robot midair?"

"yeah! it was crazy wook i wish you could've seen the fight! it was so cool!"

he leaned back against the headboard, patting the space between his legs. a silent invitation to sit with him. how could you say no?

you crawled over to his side of the bed, settling in between his legs, his chest becoming your own personal backrest as his arms snaked around your waist. you could feel his fingers playing with the hem of your shirt, the action nearly consuming all your thoughts.

"keep playing! i wanna see!" he smiled wide, excited to indulge in this new interest with you and see what had you so absorbed all day while he was gone at work.

you hummed in content before unpausing the game, the loud ost blasting through the tv speakers once again as you adjusted your grip on the controller, picking up right where you left off.

you caught him up on the last few minutes of gameplay before he walked in, rambling on about what you think might happen next as you turned the corner of the next big area to explore.

the two of you sat like that for an hour before you decided to turn the game off at the checkpoint you had hit. despite the game no longer displaying on the screen and the soundtrack no longer blaring in the room, the two of you were rather hesitant to move. but who could blame you?

"i think i might have to try playing that game," gunwook smiled down at you, his hands playing with the rings on your fingers, the controller lost in the messy bedsheets.

you turned to face the boy, "really?" you smiled, "you totally should!" you trailed off, your eyes fully taking in the boy for the first time that night, "not right now though," your voice was merely a whisper, "want you all to myself now."

he couldn't help but giggle at your sweet words, pressing a kiss to your cheek before tilting your head ever so slightly towards him, placing another kiss on your lips. "don't worry, i plan on staying like this for now."

your cheeks heated up at the subtle intimacy, causing the boy's cheeks flush a similar shade of pink, leaving the both of you in a fit of shy giggles as you competed for who could pepper more kisses along each others warm skin.

"i love you," you whispered against his plush lips, feeling them smile against your own.

"more than the game?" he joked, causing you to crack an even bigger smile, "know your place park gunwook!" you teased, causing the boy to lean back, an overexaggerated pout on his lips.

"i'm kidding!" you laughed, "i love you" you placed a kiss on his lips between every word of the confession, "more than anything else in this world."

#zerobaseone #zerobaseonefics #boys planet #boys planet fics #boys planet imagines #boys planet reactions #kpop #boys planet drabbles #zb1 #zb1 x reader #zb1 imagines #park gunwook imagines

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khuzena · 6 months

Text

Friends

Jing yuan x g/n!reader

Summary: The xianzhou citizens don't often indulge in romance, to love is to one day see yourself fall into the embrace of mara— to let your lover witness it. Some still love, some deny themselves of such feelings.

Cw. Angst, unrequited love (not really), getting drunk, mixed signals, implied sexual stuff and a little bit of that but they don't actually do it (i think), no fluff no comfort because that shit is for the weak

A/n: Did I cry writing this? Yes. Was it worth it? I don't know.

Love.

noun

an intense feeling of deep affection.

He wonders if you ever noticed how he felt about you. Lingering gazes lasting deeper than it should, ‘accidental’ brushes against your hand or how he finds himself dropping everything he's doing just to be with you.

“Jing yuan, your move.”

Your words snap him back to reality, he awkwardly bit his lip, his focus back on the board. Right.

He wonders as he moves his piece two tiles forward, would you ever get wind of these growing feelings of his? If you did,

“Checkmate.”

Would you feel the same?

A light chuckle leaves his lips, the sight of your frustrated expression ingrained in his mind, like every memory he has of you.

A loud slam echoed in the room, “How do you always win?”

“You make brash decisions on the board,” Jing yuan backtracks the pieces before the soul-crushing checkmate, he positioned your pieces, “It should've gone here, you could've blocked my move.”

An exasperated sigh escapes you, clamping chunks of your hair frustratedly after realising you could've won, “I hate you.”

The man laughs as he tidies up the table, eyes still trained on you.

He doesn't know how and why you both ended up in this position.

Your relationship was complicated.

He doesn't understand you.

Sometimes you'd hold his hand, tell him all your secrets like he were a priest at a confessional, take care of him and everything of the like.

Yet, you always pushed him away. He'd sit right beside you, looking over your shoulder to read the novel you recently took interest in. As if he were a bug, you'd swat him away for being too close.

“Ji, don't get too close. I'm melting from the heat.” you say, but it was winter?

He doesn't understand love at all.

He loves mimi, he loves starchess, he loves his family (the high-cloud quintet, or should I say, ex-family), he loves tea, he loves his home.

Sometimes you two would go out to the library, indulging in me-time, faces buried in pages.

“Jing yuan, have you found a book about that one novel I told you about?” He shook his head no, he doesn't indulge in fictional work that often. But you loved novels.

“I think I found it.” He wipes the dust off the book spine. ‘How to fall in love with a genius’, what a strange book title.

“Really?” quietly tiptoeing towards his direction, the library lady eyeing you two; you had a habit of making too much noise, leading to the bookkeeper scolding you both.

“Here,” he blew over the cover, dust particles puffing in your face.

“Bastard—” words barely audible as you spoke in-between coughs, “Thanks though”

The bookkeeper glaring at you two, sending shivers down your spine. The idiot laughs again, you slap his back.

You both get kicked out.

Friends don't get drunk together, friends don't cuddle, friend's don't do this.

Like ‘friends’, you cling to him in his bed, head nuzzled in his neck. Jing yuan was scared to hug you or even dare to hold your waist.

He can only get a taste of heaven but never the real thing, you can hug him yet when he reciprocates he's too close.

He envies at how audacious you are. That you're not afraid to hold him like he's yours but he could never call you his. How you could just stare at him with those loving resplendent eyes but he could never stare longer at yours.

This time however, he wishes he slept in, he wishes he told you he was busy, that he doesn't want to hang out today.

One drink turned to two, two drinks turned to three. More, more and more, until you're on top of him, all of him you can see.

“Ji.”

How cruel you are. Straddled on his lap as he was laid against the pearly sheets of his bed, your eyes devoid of light as your free hand tug on the hem of his shirt, “Jing yuan, I'm sorry”

You cried again, gripping his shirt tightly. Why can't he push you away?

Tears spill out as you desperately wanted to love him, as he did too. But was it really love?

“I love you.” he accidentally slips out.

Your eyes widened in fear, you tried to convince yourself you didn't hear anything as you grind your hips on his lap, croaking out a guttural moan.

“Please,” you grinded faster, your hips burning, you prayed to god that what you heard was a lie, that you misheard him.

He groans in desperation, hands on your hips, “I really love you.”

Without a second thought, as if you were sober, you swatted his hand away and got off his lap. He stares at you like you were a madman— why did you suddenly stop?

He wishes he was drunk enough to indulge in you that night, but sober enough to have never said that.

He sat up, his hand reaching out for you but you swat it away again, “Stop.”

A sob stuck in his throat, heavy breaths drowning out the wanton moans from earlier.

“I…”

He wishes he never even loved you in the first place.

Tomorrow came, those lingering gazes on each other no more, those playful banters dissipated into thin air.

He can't bring himself to confront you, too scared to accept what's become to the two of you.

“Ji— General. Documents from Madam Yukong”

The way your eyes dart to anything but him, he bit his lip anxiously, “Yes, thank you. You may leave now.”

As if nothing happened last night, you bowed your head and ran away as quickly as possible. Does he even have the courage to ask you for another game of starchess?

Days passed yet no progress. Your relationship has turned into a strictly professional one. So cold to each other, yanqing and fu xuan can't wrap their hands around what could've happened but they don't have it in them to ask what happened.

The general signed paperwork, like usual. Not noticing loud thumping footsteps nearing his desk.

“General,” a part of him wished it was your voice.

“Yes yanqing?”

“They've turned in their resignation paper”

Oh. Huh?

He thinks yanqing is joking. Not when his dear retainer thrusts the documents to his hand does he realise he's really lost you.

“For what exactly?” he asks as if he doesn't know the answer.

Yanqing sighs, “I'm not sure either, but they talked about retiring.”

“They're too young to retire,” the man scratched his head, his mind racing with a million thoughts and a million regrets.

“General, they're 630 years old”

“Oh right,” he gave his retainer a weak smile, hoping the young boy doesn't notice the uneasiness in his eyes when he read through the contents, “I shall talk to them before I approve their resignation. You may leave.”

Yanqing nods, taking his leave as Jing yuan trembles. He's lost the high-cloud quintet, does fate have to take you too in its stride, far away from him?

He was okay with just being friends with you.

Jing yuan called for you in his private garden, he didn't expect you to actually come especially after that.

“You came.”

“You called,” your eyes as empty as that one night.

He tried his best to hold back the tears, heart burning yet he had to remain professional. After all, he was your boss.

“Yanqing brought me your resignation request.” he pauses, unable to find the right words.

Normally, if an employee of his decides to resign, he'd sign away their request and carry on with his life but this— how could he just sign so easily?

“Have you not signed it yet?”

“No.” he can't bring himself to.

Your fingers found solace under the table, fiddling and fidgeting together but you'd rather die than let the man in front of you notice it, “Can't you just sign it?”

“It's just… you've been working with me since the high-cloud quintet and it's not that easy.”

“How so?”

“We’d lose an important member of society, your contributions to the mechanical team have been beneficial,” he tapped his foot aggressively, agitated. “Can't you think twice about it?”

Without hesitation, “I can't. I'm getting old, sooner or later I'd die—”

He listens, not interrupting you, “— I don't want to die without living.”

Living? What a lie. You've been more alive by his side more than anything.

“What exactly do you mean by living?”

He pretends to not understand, he wishes you'd just take him into consideration and talk to him like he was Jing yuan, not the general arbiter.

“You know what I mean,” the air sucked out of your lungs, why did he have to make you say it out loud?

“I want to live. I want to be finally free of my duties, get married, and retire.”

He nodded along with your words, he felt sick. Sicker than he ever was in his life.

“I wish you told me sooner”

“What good would it bring?”

“I just wished you were honest from the start.”

The words were once stuck again in your throat, trying to blink nonstop to not let those pathetic tears spill out, “This is for me—”

“What about me?”

Desperation laced in his tone, he wishes you'd give him a chance, that you'd let him in.

“What about you?”

You wonder, what about him? He wants to ask, what about us?

“This is about me,” neither of you could find the words, but you try.

“I want to live,” forlorn, not a glimmer of hope in your eyes, he wishes on a sliver of hope, “Is that too much to ask?”

Yet life is cruel. It was a mistake trying to be more than friends with you, again; he wished he stayed as friends with you. He would have been fine with anything.

For your own good, “I understand.”

Jing yuan reluctantly took his pen, staring at the paper. He signed.

“Thank you.”

He signed you away, at least now, there's no more need for formalities. He is no longer your boss, he is just jing yuan to you.

“I… “ his mouth snapped shut.

“No more words, general?”

As selfish as it sounds, he wants to tell you that he's willing to leave this life behind. That if you want to live, he'll live with you, if you want to marry, he'll marry you. If you want to retire, he'll retire with you.

But duty calls, he can't just stop being ‘general arbiter’ in a heartbeat for you. He wishes he could.

It's not that hot outside today, but he feels like burning.

“Ah, nothing. Where will you go now?”

“It doesn't matter, I'll just go somewhere, live alone or maybe start a new life.”

“I wish luck for your future endeavours.”

Jing yuan has never been selfish. This time however, he wishes he wasn't the general. He wishes he was just a normal man, he wishes he had the privilege, that he had the choice to be your man.

You could no longer handle being under this suffocating atmosphere, “Can I leave now?”

“By all means.”

That was the last time he talked to you, he wonders, he wishes, that he was anyone but him. Not even he could have foreseen this.

When your footsteps grew quieter as you were farther away from him, he cried.

It's been long since he's cried… years, centuries perhaps.

He's lost his family, he's lost you too. All because he wanted to be more than friends.

He wonders if you cried too, if you'd come back. It's for the best.

In due time, one of you will turn mara struck. He doesn't have the heart to see you in that state. But he wishes you gave him the chance to love you, even for just two years. A year or two is all he needs to be content.

None of that matters, he wipes his tears. Reporting back to the seat of divine foresight.

Note: not proofread so dont laugh. 😔😔😔 Before one of you bitches say, who hurt you, who hurt you? No, this is just me projecting with my cupioromantic and aromantic tendencies. ITS SO COMMON TO SEE MC BEING THE ONE GETTING REJECTEd BUT NOT THE CHARACTER GETTING REJECTED I NEED MORE FICS WITH THIS PLOT GRRRRR 😟. ITS 3:16 AM FUCK SLEEP FUCK IT ALL GRRRR

Written by @khuzena. Likes, reblogs and comments are always appreciated. ♡

#what have i done #honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x you #hsr fluff #hsr x reader #jing yuan x reader #jing yuan smut #jing yuan angst #honkai star rail angst #hsr angst #jing yuan fluff #jing yuan x you #hsr smut #honkai star rail smut

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missadangel · 1 month

Text

Little Bird in a Cage

Part 1: Operation Little Bird

---------------------------- All episodes here ------------------------

(Javier Peña x reader)

In this story, the reader is the daughter of the Colombian Defense Minister from Narcos season 3 and DEA agent Javier Peña has to kidnap her to protect her.

Rating: Mature, 18+

Word Count: 54,191 in total.

Warnings: falling in love, rough sex, smut, sex, mention about sex workers, cursing, alcohol, kidnapping, violence, gun violence, drugs, narcos, Cali cartels, unplanned pregnancy, fluffy, mention about pregnancy, bathtub sex, age gap (10-15 years)

Summary: When I was writing this story, I wondered what it would be like to be kidnapped by Javier Peña. i wish lol

Notes: English is not my native language so bear with me. hit me in comments if you like it so i can keep sharing. Enjoy!

Gif by azerytrobaz - reddit

-Prologue-

The night you turned 22 you met incredibly charming and mysterious man, and the first time you saw him your heart skipped a beat. Immediately the question came to your mind,

What if he’s the one?

That was your first mistake…

You will soon realized that he was Javier Peña, former DEA agent - yes, former, because your father played a big role in getting him discharged - who has been sneaking up on you because of all the shit your father had done and was going to kidnap you to teach him a lesson. So that was the plan, at least for now.

From Javier's point of view, it wasn't the first time he'd seen you. He's been after your father for a while for aiding and abetting the Cali cartel. But because your father was Colombia's respected minister of defense, it was very difficult, close to impossible, to expose it. But on the other hand, you were his only weakness, which made you the only option.

"It's fuckin stupid, we'd better commit suicide..."

Javi grumbled while he's stalking you on the way your home.

That was the first time he saw you, you look like very happy with your friends returning from college, unaware that the man you would later love and hate so much was following you at the moment.

Of course, you didn't know about the shit your father was doing and you never did.

As Javi spy on you behind his sunglasses in a distance, all he could think about was how to approach you. You were young and quite beautiful that every man would want you easily. He was at least 10 years older than you and he usually spends his time after work in the brothel with prostitutes, he wasn't very good at approaching other women.

"She usually likes to hang out at a bar with her friends, that's good for you sir, that's your specialty." Chris said with a smirk standing next to him.

Javi rolled his eyes. "Let’s see."

The plan that Javi, the other two agents Chris and Daniel, and his buddy Steve -by providing support from Bogota- came up with was actually technically quite simple. Kidnap the minister's daughter, hold her for a while so that you can protect her from the Salazars, the archenemy of the Cali cartel, and others can't get to her. The CIA certainly didn't want to be involved in this plan because they had already taken Escobar. That's why it was actually very difficult. Javi was no longer an agent and he was not authorized to ask any support.

So he had to reluctantly go to Don Berna, knowing that he would definitely want something in return, of course. But Javi was doing it partly for himself, he wanted more than anything to go back to his days as an agent. And taking the cartel down.

They could kidnap you suddenly when your'e outside, but a conflict would be inevitable, and if gets out that Javi was involved in this, the positions of other agents could be in danger, and even if America's name would heard about the kidnapping of the minister's daughter incident, it could be very very bad.

That's why Javi was going to approach you as random guy, not as an agent. The first attempt was failed, because you were at home almost all week, and sometimes you went shopping, that's all. Also you were given ride by a car every-damn-time. Javi was getting more and more impatient wondering when he would find the right time.

Luckily, due to the information Javi received, the girl -you- has a birthday party tonight and you were going to be with your friends only. That night, he was primping his hair more than usual night, he was already very attractive with his bright brown eyes, slightly shaped hair, clean-shaven face except for his mustache.

He put his favorite perfume on his neck and a little on his black leather jacket too, then left the house.

The party was in the bar of an elite hotel. As Javi approached the crowd at the entrance of the big hotel, his phone rang. That was Chris, he was joking about whether he was going to put a bug in his jacket so they can eavesdrop on .

"Fuck off," he hissed and approached the entrance. It was not difficult for him to get in, pass the security etc., the main problem was what he was going to do inside. He sat down on a bar stool, had a drink and started spying around. He looking for you, and he almost spit out his drink when he noticed you, “Damn,” he gulped.

There you were, standing in front of him with all your beauty, the dress you were wearing left your back and shoulders exposed, also was quite short so he can see clearly your long and smooth legs, shining under colorful lighting. Your light brown hair, resembling chocolate, was layered long, cascades down your back, your makeup was not too much but the color of your lips was just—

"Great," Javi muttered. He almost forgot what he came here for. He tossed off his drink and observed a little more, just then someone -he thought was probably her ex boyfriend -approached you, and things got tense after an argument, luckily for Javi, you walked over to the bar stool. With an upset expression, you sat down next to him without noticing Javi who got excited for a moment realizing finally had opportunity to make a move.

“Is everything all right?"

You just took a sip of your drink and startled by this question.

When you turned your head that way, you saw him, and were immediately surprised how you didn't see him before, sitting on barstool next to you, because he wasn't one to go unnoticed, at that moment you felt that you entered the field of his attraction.

This stranger asked you sincerely, he seemed a little worried but much curious though.

Even you were almost forgetting why the hell you’re upset about. Then you shook your head and come to your senses.

"Yes, I think so," you murmured without looking at him.

"It's just that some men can't handle being dumped," you sighed. Javi smiled flirtatiously, "If the person who dumped is a beautiful woman like you, I can’t imagine how though to handle."

When you heard his compliment, you felt your cheeks turn red, you couldn't take your eyes off his dark brown eyes for a while. You smiled and made a gesture like thanking him with the glass in your hand. Your friends came to check you on trying to convince you to go with them but you didn't want to go.

The music was loud, everyone were dancing madly but you didn't want to dance either. For some reason, it was more tempting for you to sit with this stranger.

"May I ask your name?" he asked.

"Y/N," you said immediately, your voice was like a silver bell ringing. "And your name is?"

Of course, Javi couldn't say his own name, he had to lie, and he said the first name that came to his mind.

"I'm Juan."

"Glad to meet you, Juan. You're not here for my party? why are you here?" you asked in a curious way.

"I think my date ditched on me tonight," he pouted his lips and smirked.

"Oh, it's too bad," you said sincerely, "Well, her loss."

"Do you think so?” he said, by raising his eyebrows. “That was very kind of you."

Oh god, those eyes you thought, feeling your heart pounding so fast.

‘Can you be my birthday present?’ you wished and smiled to yourself for naughty thoughts and hoped he didn’t notice that shit.

"Let me stay here if you want, the party is almost over anyway, you have no idea how happy I am to get another age," you said in a sarcastic voice, looking at your friends and rolling your eyes.

"Well, happy birthday then," said Juan (aka Javi), handing you his glass to toast.

After toasting your glass with him, you had a long conversation, you started to like him more and more, however it was quite late.

"Oh, it's almost 2 am," you said in a nervous voice, checking your watch.

"Juan, it was nice to know you, but I need to go home. My father is very strict. And he won't accept any excuses."

"Okay, I have no intention of getting beaten up by a girl's father, but let me take you home, because I’m afraid, all of your friends are gone so."

You immediately turned your head and looked around, he was right, there was no one left, well, you wondered how this happened so fast.

"We had a very long chat, ha?” you smiled hysterically.

“Si, I enjoyed every moment," he got up with triumphant joy and helped you to put your jacket on. How kind he was, you thought, when he helped you while putting your jacket on with his big hands and the smell of his perfume came to your nose, almost took your breath away.

It was fucking perfect.

"Actually, you can't give me a ride home," you said before leaving the hotel.

"My father always sends a private car to pick me up."

You sound was low because you've never liked that.

Javi quickly scanned the outside with his eyes, he didn't need your father's men to see him at all right now.

"Then will you give me a chance to see you again?" he asked quite willingly hoped it wasn't too much to ruin everything.

You didn't know what to say, usually you would never tell your father about their relationship because he kept grumbling unnecessarily.

But you wanted to see Juan again more than anything, you surprised even yourself with this eager attitude. What was happening to me like this? you thought.

Javi was waiting wanted you to say yes more than anything, time was running out. He wasn't sure if he'd ever get that close to you again. It should be done later this week.

"We just met, Juan," you suddenly said, “I'm not used to this, meaning this is the first time I've had such a chat with someone I met at the bar.” You didn’t want to look like easy.

“But I can give you my beeper number." you added, mischievously.

While you were typing in your number to part of paper, Javi was wondering if it was right time to kidnap you right now. But suddenly his eye caught the men standing outside next to the black car. They were probably waiting for you. He had to a give up, it was too risky.

"Here," handing him your number written on a paper.

"Good night," you said with a warm smile

"Good night," Javi answered in low tone looking the paper you just gave him.

Suddenly something came to your mind and you stopped for a moment, which made a big smile on your face. You immediately turned towards him, after you check the men waiting for you, one of them was coming towards you slowly, you had to be quick.

"Do you like painting?"

Javi was surprised.

"I beg your pardon?"

"I have an exhibition of paintings at the Muli museum on Friday at 8pm, maybe we can hang out afterwards."

Javi's brown eyes were shining with hope, he smiled at you so warmly.

"Ah, and the best part is, dad won't be there," you whispered, blinking at him, then you ran towards the car like the cinderella in a hurry for her carriage.

That was your second mistake…

Javi was happy, felt like he has won a victory.

"Can’t fucking wait, baby," he murmured with a smirk on his face .

----

“What the fuck?”

Opening your eyes in a place you've never seen before, trying to remember what you did last night, where you were, and how you got here.

Or by whom.

Your memory was starting to come back with a terrific headache. You were waiting for him in the art gallery of the museum, people were congratulating you for your exhibition and it was crowded. You were hoping for him to come, yes, him. The person who brought you here. He.

When you sit up in bed, you realize that you remember everything.

Juan brought you a bouquet of flowers, visited your exhibition, praised the paintings you made, and then offered to have dinner outside, everything has been great so far. Until when he asked if you wanted you to go to his house after dinner, and you said yes.

Well, that was your third and last mistake.

-----

While the two of you were driving towards his house-at least while you were hoping so- he brought you to a large area, somewhere like a helicopter field.

You got out of the car and looked around try to understand what the heck is this, but before you even turned around to ask him, You felt your consciousness go away with a sharp smell coming from a rag which he was holding his palm pressing to your nose. The last thing you remember is that a helicopter was approaching in the distance.

Suddenly, your heart started beating very fast, you pressed your hand to your chest, feeling make a fool of hit you very hard.

You immediately stood up to look out of the window. Everything was dark outside, the only visible things were the forest-like trees that made it impossible to see the sky and the weak lighting that surrounded the house where you are now. There were iron bars outside the window, like a prison. Anger and a feeling of being cheated began to take over your body. You turned your eyes to the room and hastily reviewed it, but there was nothing useful, your body wanted to leave here immediately, your survival instinct wanted to find a way out.

"She's awake,” you heard a voice from behind the door almost whispering.

You were suddenly startled by the opening of the door, but at the same time you went into defensive mode.

He was the one who came in.

The first thing that came to your mind to take small lamp on bedside table and throw at him. Juan was fast, he flinched reflexively, then he carefully and slowly approached you.

"Please listen to me, I'm not going to hurt you, let me talk."

"Who the fuck are you? What do you want, why are you brought me here?”

Javi then put his hands on his waist trying to find correct explanation.

“Answer me!” you yelled at him.

"Fuck, baby I know you’re surprised as hell but listen, I am Javier Peña. Former DEA agent, the reason I brought you here is to protect you only, please believe me."

"Is it so?" you asked in a sarcastic way.

You moved back and picked up a pillow this time and threw it at him again.

"Fuck off!"

Javi grabbed the pillow and sighed deeply.

He brushed his hair back with his other hand, which fell on his face when the pillow hit, and then he approached you, there was no place left for you to step back so just standing there.

Without taking his eyes off you, he threw the pillow on the bed. His eyes were deep and serious this time.

"I'm telling you the truth, I guess you don't know about your father's shit with the Cali cartel. I don't blame you. But it was only a matter of time before the cartel's enemies used you to harm your father, so I had to take you here."

"And you saved me? What, am I supposed to say thank you or something? Yeah, fuck you very much!"

He rubs his head, didn’t know what to say.

"You should have a dog in the hunt, right?” you asked suddenly, trying to find a way to get closer to the door.

Javi sighed and sit on small couch near the door.

"I lost my job because of your father, I'm not an agent anymore. Beside- wait!"

When you run towards the door in a quick move, he grabbed you from behind easily.

"Let me go," you cried. You were struggling to get out of his strong arms.

"Don’t be silly Y/N, have you ever thought about where you're going. There are soldiers outside, guards, and we're not in Cali anymore."

Suddenly you stopped fluttering, Javi hadn't pulled his arms out, he couldn't figure out what to do. But when he saw the sad expression on your face, he let you go.

"What do you want from me exactly?" you asked, your tone was no longer angry, yet desperate.

Javi grabbed your shoulders softly and looked into your eyes with his bright brown eyes.

"I want you to stay here until we capture the Cali cartel, we’ll do whatever you want or need, no harm will come to you, I promise."

"You mean, until you get your job back.”

Javi's touch by shoulders hurt you more, you pushed his hands away and he was avoiding reply and you both knew it meant yes.

"I want to talk to my father," you said after a short silence.

"No fucking way, I'm sorry."

"You were going to do whatever I wanted, you said so," you frowned.

"Everything except that," said with half smile.

His smile made you even more angry.

"Look, why don't you get some rest, stay alone for a while, we'll be downstairs when you need us."

You didn't answer, you were looking out of the window with hands crossed.

"Was it all part of this game?" you asked Javi who was about leaving the room but playing with door handle.

"I mean your interest in me," you explained, "It was all a lie, wasn't it? You approached me because of my father, didn't you?" looking at him this time.

"Get some rest, please" he said again, slowly closed the door, left the room.

You couldn't hold back your tears anymore and you let them flow and fell asleep while murmuring.

"How stupid I am.”

-------

The days were passing, and every time you were a hostage, you started to get more bored, you hated the feeling of uncertainty and detention.

And when you looked out of the window in your room and see the same things every day, it didn't help to make that feeling go away. Mercenaries, soldiers or whoever they are, they sprinting as group every day for training, changing shifts on duty, and this goes on until it gets dark.

Javi and others visiting you to ask what you needed and to bring food and drink only.

But you didn’t see Javi for two days. Even though he came anyway, he didn't talk much.

Maybe because you beg him for to get you out of there everytime he comes by, who knows. And one day the worst thing happened for you. Chris ran into the room at lightning speed because you screamed very loudly.

"Are you all right, senorita?"

Javi was in a meeting with the commander of the soldiers and Don Berna at the time. The meeting was about to end when his own name was called. He frowned, put out his cigarette and left the office.

"What now," he hissed.

He ran up the stairs, getting worried.

"What the fuck is going on here?" he asked curiously. Saw Daniel and Chris waiting outside of the bathroom door.

“Señorita has a problem, we didn't get it, sir."

Javi gestured his hands for them to step aside and grabbed door handle wanted to check but-

"Y/N are you all right? What-"

"Don't you dare come in!!!" you shouted quite loudly.

"Okay, can you tell me what happened, por favor?"

"Look, I need clean clothes to change and, the, that thing," your voice was cracking.

Three men in the room looked at each other confused as hell, they had no idea. Javi approached the door softly again.

"To what, cariño?" his voice so soft too but it only made you more angry.

"Just the fucking girly thing," you scolded him.

"Never came to your little minds of yours, when you were kidnapping a girl, ha? Idiots!"

Javi felt so embarrassed when he realized, he bit his lip and ruffled his hair with his hand.

"I'll find you what you want, I promise, you hang in there a little longer, okay?" almost begging.

Daniel and Chris giggled each other.

"Stop it and think about how we will find it." Javi snarled.

"The market near here is at least 50 km away, sir."

“Fuck.”

"What about the female soldiers? I've seen one, no harm to ask her, right?"

Javi nodded.

"You two stay here.”

“Hurry up!!!” you shouted again.

When he get out of the building, Don Berna and the others were there.

"Hey amigo, is there any women among soldiers? I need to talk to her right now."

"Peña," Berna laughed roughly.

"If you need a hooker, just tell me. Anton will take you. I wouldn't recommend approaching female soldiers with that intention. If you know what I mean."

He laughed so hard that the cigar in his mouth almost felling to the floor.

"Fuckin hilarious.” Javi snorted.

----

You were in a lot of pain and the bleeding couldn't stop.

You had no choice but to trust Javi and wait. When you were about to faint, you heard the door open, and immediately after, a woman's voice came to your ear.

"I'll take it from here, gentlemen," she said confidently.

You were almost relieved when you saw a woman in uniform in front of you. She brought clean clothes and tampons, also helped you to change, and now you were dying to get out of fucking bathroom.

"Thank you, really," you said sincerely.

"No problem, señorita," she smiled and left the room, but Javi has entered before the door was closed.

"Are you feeling better?"

Suddenly you felt your cheeks turn red.

"Yes, thank you," you said, avoiding to make eye contact with him.

“Don’t thank me, just be okay,” he muttered and left the room.

You wanted to say more but couldn’t. Feeling abandoned because he left you in the room alone, but because you were so tired to think over. So you preferred to go to the bed and lay down.

-----

---------------------------- All episodes here ------------------------

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