#it eludes me now but that's no matter!

[laurapetrie]

On the contrary, I’m the most romantic person I’ve ever met in my life.

- F. Scott Fitzgerald, "Majesty" (1929)

[happy74827]

One Call Away

[Wade Wilson x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: During one of his "jobs," Deadpool gets a call from his favorite gal [GIF Creds: jdsheart]

WC: 1970

Category: Fluff, Major Comedy {TW: Deadpool’s Humor/Nonfiltered Personality}

This man is so hard to write. I’m always stressing the noggin when it comes to planning and plotting 😔

『••✎••』

"And away we go..."

One neck crack and a couple of hip twists later, he was off like Aladdin and his fucktoy carpet, scaling the building similarly to a chameleon on LSD.

The only thing that was missing was some epic music.

He'd been chasing this baddie around the city for almost two days now. Some big-shot mob boss with ties to Hydra, or the Mafia, or the Yakuza, or some other three-letter-acronym organization. It was hard to keep track of them all at this point. They were all the same, except for the name.

They all had their own agenda.

Kill him, keep him prisoner, pay him off...

Wade never cared enough to listen because it was always the same. He just got hired to do the dirty work, and the pay was good.

The killing was better.

This one, however, was particularly good at eluding him. He'd been trying to get his hands on this man for a few days now. It wasn't as though he was trying to be stealthy or anything, either. He'd walked right up to his front door, knocked, and was greeted with a spray of machine gun bullets.

So, the usual.

But then the guy ran and didn't stop. It was like the fucking Roadrunner met Sonic the Hedgehog, and they decided to fuck around and find out.

Wade was getting real sick and tired of being a Roadrunner, too. He had a reputation to uphold. He wasn't known as the Merc with the Mouth for nothing. He was supposed to be the one doing the running and the killing.

Not the other way around.

Finally, finally, he managed to reach the roof where the guy was currently taking cover behind a small brick shack. The sun was rising, but it was still dark, and there were a couple of floodlights shining on the rooftop. It made him think of the night he'd had that heart-to-heart with Blind Al, even though all she really wanted was for him to bring her some of that special brownie mix.

What a night that had been.

But anyway, this monologue is starting to get too long, and we should probably move things along, eh?

Right.

So, the baddie.

His name was something long and non-English.

Salvatore, or Santino, or Salvation... Whatever the fuck it was, it didn't really matter. What mattered was that it was time to make him dead.

He stepped around the corner and was met with a spray of bullets, all of which lodged themselves into his Kevlar vest.

"Oh, come on!" he yelled over the sound of the gunfire. "This is real leather, you know. I'm tired of all the offscreen sewing and shit."

When the spray finally ended, he took a moment to catch his breath.

"…ow," he whispered to himself.

"You shouldn't have followed me here," the man said.

"Yeah, whatever," Deadpool replied. "Look, I'll make this easy for you. You drop down and give me fifty, and I'll let you keep that hideous mustache you're sporting."

The man's eyes widened in surprise.

"It's not that bad, is it?"

"Yes, yes it is," Deadpool assured him. "You got a squirrel living in it or something?"

"It's just a little bit of gray, you dick," the man argued. "What about you? What's with the mask? Are you hiding a mustache under there, too, or something? Maybe some acne scars?"

Deadpool shook his head and stepped forward, his guns drawn.

"Don't come any closer!"

"You know, this would be much more intimidating if you didn't look like a cartoon mouse."

"Stop it with the mustache!"

"Alright, alright," Deadpool said. "Enough with the mustache. But what is it about your hairline? I can't put my finger on it."

The man sighed in exasperation and pulled out his pistol, aiming it right at Deadpool's face.

"Hey now, don't point that at me," Deadpool scolded him. "That's not a very nice thing to do."

He ignored him and pulled the trigger, a loud boom ringing out as the bullet fired. It whizzed by him but missed its mark.

"You really are a dick," He grumbled before aiming his gun right between the man's eyes. And he was going to shoot, honest.

He really was.

But then his phone rang, and he was well-reminded of the current song playing through his head.

I'm a buff baby that can dance like a man. I can shake-ah my fanny, I can shake-ah my can!

Needless to say, he was distracted.

He lowered his gun and looked down at his pocket, where his phone was still ringing and still vibrating against his leg.

"Shit, hold that thought," He said to the guy, and he holstered his gun.

"Wh-what the hell are you doing?!"

Deadpool put his finger up to shush him before pulling his phone out of his pocket to answer it.

If you're an evil witch, I’ll punch you for fu—

"Heyyyy," he said in a sing-songy voice, "you've reached the phone sex hotline. For kinks and fetishes, press one. For booty calls, press two. For your favorite mercenary, press three."

"Ey, pendejo—" His opponent started, but he cut him off by snapping and raising his finger.

"Cut it, Tuco Salamanca. Breaking Bad called and wants its meth-cooking mustache back."

"Wha-I-you-"

"Anyways, this is your favorite merc speaking. Who do I have the pleasure of speaking with?"

"Is this a bad time?"

Wade's eyes widened in shock, and his jaw dropped open when he heard her voice on the other end of the line.

"Baby girl! Is that you? Oh, how I've missed your voice. It's like hearing an angel, or an angelic chorus, or a whole bunch of angels, but you're the most important one. Like, the lead singer or something."

"I literally saw you last night." Your voice was always drenched with the most amazing kind of sarcasm, and he'd missed it.

"And?"

"It's only been a few hours."

"And?"

"That's a short amount of time."

"And?"

You sighed, but he knew you weren't really annoyed.

"Anyways, you sounded busy," you continued, "so I'll just let you go."

"What?! No! Don't hang up!" He shouted into the receiver. "I've only fiddled with my pistols! Nothing interesting is happening right now!"

"Your pistols, huh?" You asked a hint of mischief in your voice.

"Well, yeah. They're the most important part of the mission, you know."

In the corner of his eye, he could see his target making his way towards the edge of the building. Quickly and efficiently, without dropping his attention from his conversation with you, he lifted his gun and fired a shot at the man's knee.

"Ah, fuck!" the man screamed in pain. "My knee!"

"Hey! Language!" Deadpool scolded him. "The lady of the house is listening!"

"Lady of the- what the fuck?!"

"I said language, you mustachioed rat!"

"Mustachioed rat?" You asked.

"Sorry, babe," he replied. "You know how excited I get when Downtown Abbey is on."

“There’s gunshots in Downtown Abbey?"

"Gunshots? Oh, no, no. That was… uh, a car alarm. Yeah, the neighbor's car alarm was going off."

"Uh-huh," you said, not sounding very convinced. And, of course, that was right around the time the guy's gun went off again, this time hitting him square in the shoulder. It made the phone fall out of his hand and clatter onto the ground, but the call was still connected.

"Dammit!" He yelled, looking at the fresh blood dripping down his arm. "That's gonna take forever to heal!"

"Who are you talking to?" The man demanded, his gun still aimed at Deadpool's face. "You're working with someone?"

"Hey, now, I don't remember giving you permission to talk," Deadpool told him, holding his bloody arm up to his face. "Look, I've gotta call you back, babe. I know it's been so heartbreakingly long—"

"Again, only a few hours," you said.

"—but duty calls. Love you, bye."

"Love you, bye."

With that, the line disconnected.

"Ugh," he groaned, his heart aching for the loss of your sweet voice. "I miss her already."

"Ey," his opponent growled, drawing his attention. He started speaking in rapid-fire Spanish, which Deadpool didn't really understand, but he didn't have to. The guy was just ranting and raving.

"Alright, alright, chill," Deadpool said. "Just calm down. It’ll all be over soon, little buddy."

"I am not little! I am a giant!" The guy protested, and Wade could practically see the steam coming out of his ears. "And I will not chill!"

"Well, can't argue with that, I guess," Deadpool said with a shrug, and he took aim. But before he could pull the trigger, the guy was running again.

"Hey, what did I tell you about running?!" He yelled, but his voice fell on deaf ears as the guy reached the ledge.

"I am a giant!"

"No, you're a giant asshat!"

"I will not be bested by some masked buffoon!"

"Buff? Me? Why, I never!"

"You're the biggest asshole I've ever met!"

"You know what? I am a big ass! A big, round, bubbly ass." He paused for a second. "Hey, what's your favorite flavor?"

"Fuck you, you red-clad imbecile!"

"You know, I'd ask you out to dinner first, but we're kinda past that now."

"Argh!"

"Alright, enough stalling," Deadpool said. "It's time to end this."

"Yes," the guy said, turning his gun back on Deadpool. "It is."

Of course, Deadpool being the smart-ass he was, he'd already taken a step to the side. As the bullet whizzed past him, he reached for his gun.

"Now, where did I put that thing? Oh, there it is."

He aimed the gun and fired, and the man fell back onto the ground. The bullet hit him right in the middle of his forehead, his blood splattering all over the concrete.

"Ha ha! Fatality. Deadpool wins!" He said, his voice taking on the deep, grounded tone of the narrator from Mortal Kombat. "Flawless Victory."

He stood over the body for a few seconds, reveling in his victory, before he felt the presence of another.

The gun on his right side got ripped from its holster, and the barrel was aimed back into his face, as it always seems to be.

But, he already sensed it was coming, so his fingers wrapped around his other and aimed that right in the golden spot… and let’s just say, The Golden Girls was a little less golden and a lot more crimson.

"Wow, this has got to be a record," He said as he bent down to stare at the new one’s anguish. "Two dead ugly mustaches in the same day. You can call me Sweeney Todd because shit… I just shaved you the fuck up."

He didn’t give the poor bastard a chance to even whimper before he fired another two shots into the man's head. All in all, this had been the easiest payday he'd had in a while.

He picked up his cell phone and slipped it back into its pocket before bending down and scooping up the mustache man's pistol.

"Ooh, lookie here, a nice, shiny new pistol," he said to himself. "Just what I've always wanted. Well, I don't actually need it. It's not like I have any other holes in my body, but you know what they say. The more the merrier."

He stuffed the gun in his holster and turned around, heading back the way he'd come.

"Time to get back to the good stuff," he said. "I have a date with my favorite girl."

He hopped up onto the ledge and looked down, his eyes locking on the window to his apartment.

And when he arrived, bloody and battered, you could only smile while holding up little ole Mary Puppins in all her drooling glory.

God, how he missed his girls.

[moonxknightx]

♡˗ˏ✎*ೃ˚ : IN THE COMFORT OF HIS EMBRACE : :;

╰┈➤ ❝ [PAIRING] ❞ Logan Howlett x F!Reader

・❥・GENRE: Fluff

 ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆FANDOM: X-Men

ੈ✩‧₊˚ WARNINGS: None!

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥SUMMARY: Unable to sleep, you seek comfort in Logan's bed. He welcomes you warmly, and his steady presence and gentle conversation help you relax, allowing you to finally drift off to sleep.

THE MOONLIGHT FILTERED THROUGH THE CURTAINS, CASTING A GENTLE GLOW ACROSS THE ROOM. The clock on the nightstand ticked softly, each second stretching into eternity as you lay in bed, restless and wide awake. No matter how many times you shifted or how many deep breaths you took, sleep eluded you. Frustration mingled with the quiet night, making the shadows on the walls seem even darker.

Finally, you couldn’t stand it any longer. You slipped out of bed with deliberate care, not wanting to disturb the quiet of the house. The hallway was dimly lit, and you moved quietly towards Logan’s room. As you reached his door, you hesitated, your hand hovering over the knob. The idea of waking him up felt like an intrusion, but your need for comfort was stronger.

Taking a deep breath, you knocked gently before pushing the door open just enough to peek inside. Logan’s room was sparsely decorated, but it exuded a comforting, lived-in warmth. His silhouette was barely visible under the covers, his breathing slow and even.

“Logan,” you whispered, trying to sound calm despite the knot of anxiety in your chest. You took a tentative step closer and gently shook his shoulder. He stirred, groaning softly, before his eyes opened and found yours. He blinked sleepily, his gaze softening with recognition.

“You okay?” he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep.

“I... I can’t sleep,” you admitted, your voice trembling slightly. “I’ve been tossing and turning for hours. I just... I didn’t know where else to go.”

Logan’s expression shifted from groggy concern to understanding. Without a word, he shifted to one side, making space in the bed beside him. “Come here,” he said, his voice low and reassuring. You didn’t need any further invitation. You slipped into the bed, the cool sheets giving way to the reassuring warmth of his body.

As you settled next to him, Logan’s arm instinctively wrapped around you, pulling you closer. You buried your face into his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing. The warmth of his body and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat had a calming effect, slowly erasing the restless tension that had kept you awake.

“Sorry for bothering you,” you murmured, your voice barely audible.

“Don’t be,” Logan said, his tone gentle but firm. “If you need me, I’m here. No apologies necessary.”

You let out a soft sigh, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders. “I just... I couldn’t shake this feeling of restlessness. I didn’t want to be alone.”

Logan’s fingers gently stroked your back, his touch soothing and steady. “It’s alright. You’re not alone now,” he said, his voice a low murmur. “What’s on your mind?”

You took a moment to gather your thoughts, finding comfort in the steady presence beside you. “It’s nothing specific, really. Just one of those nights where everything seems to spiral out of control. And then I start thinking about everything I have to do, and it just... snowballs.”

Logan nodded, his hand continuing its gentle rhythm on your back. “I get it. Sometimes the quiet of the night makes everything seem bigger than it is. But you’re here with me now. Let’s just focus on that.

You nodded against his chest, feeling the tension slowly drain from your body. The room was filled with a peaceful silence, punctuated only by the soft sounds of your breathing and the occasional creak of the bed. Logan’s presence was a steady anchor, his warmth enveloping you like a cocoon.

As minutes passed, you found your thoughts slowing down, your mind growing quieter with each passing second. Logan’s gentle touch and the rhythmic beating of his heart created a sense of calm that you had been craving all night.

“Logan?” you whispered, your voice barely a murmur.

“Yeah?” he replied, his tone soft and attentive.

“Thank you. For being here. I really needed this.”

He pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head, his embrace tightening slightly. “Anytime. You don’t have to thank me. I’m glad I could help.”

The comfort of his words, coupled with the soothing rhythm of his breathing, lulled you towards sleep. You felt your eyes growing heavy, the exhaustion of the sleepless night finally catching up with you. Logan’s steady presence was a constant reassurance, a promise of safety and companionship.

As sleep began to claim you, you could hear Logan’s voice, soft and soothing. “Get some rest. I’ve got you.”

And with those comforting words echoing in your mind, you finally surrendered to the embrace of sleep, finding peace in the warmth and safety of Logan’s arms.

🏷️: @twinky-wink @fidgetingbee @astarions-girl-dinner @layladestiny8

If you want to be added to the taglist, let me know🫶

[pinkberrytea]

He had tasted you once; now, he craves every inch of your being, his hunger insatiable.

Little death—a gift he bestowed upon her, and which she bestows upon him in turn. As her lifeblood touches his lips, Astarion reminisces about the fateful eve when he first sank his fangs into her pretty neck.

Come, gentle night; and when he shall die, take him and cut him out in little stars.

Astarion x Tav (F!Reader)

w/c: 3.1k words . ao3 . spotify playlist . 18+ only . nsfw . dividers

a/n: I can't be the only one who is convinced my man is down bad since the very first bite, right? he is so interesting to me! I wanted to explore this idea further, hopefully I did it justice. thank you for reading!

tags: blood drinking; fluff & smut; possessive behavior; masturbation; body worship; mildly dubious consent; dry humping; somnophilia

“Later on, when we are at rest, I will eat you right up. Just enough to give me strength, and just enough to leave you wishing for more.”

Footsteps. You hear them approaching, although in your half-unconscious torpor, you can’t tell if they’re near or far. You’re likewise unsure of what has disturbed your sleep, even if as of late, nights have been restless and plagued by nightmares, the worm etched in the recesses of your brain a constant, unforgiving reminder of your plight. Your mind is still hazy, fragments of your dreams clouding your thoughts, so you rely on your primal instincts instead—you smell nothing but the crisp evening air, feel nothing but the cool breeze caressing your warm body, see nothing but endless darkness from behind your closed eyelids, but your ears don’t fail you. You instinctively hold your breath, muscles tensed, staying as still as possible as if playing dead; the footsteps are now almost upon you, the crunching of leaves growing louder and muffling the noise of the crickets singing, and your skin becomes covered in goosebumps in anticipation, the pit of your stomach twisting and turning. Whoever it is, you seem to be their intended target.

Suppressing the mounting panic rising within your chest, you try to gather your bearings and make sense of the situation. You know where you are—Elturgard, or more specifically, a camp in the wilderness, somewhere between Elturel and Baldur’s Gate. Finding a cure for the parasite wriggling in your head is the reason you’re here, and the companions with whom you’re sharing your camp are afflicted by the same condition. Ah, your companions—the footsteps must belong to one of them, surely. The soothing heat of the campfire has significantly dwindled compared to how it was when you turned in, its crackling so low you can barely hear it, and the night is sufficiently chilly that your bedroll fails to offer enough shelter, so you wonder if they are about to tend to the dying flames, or maybe ask you to help them do so. You wait expectantly, pricking up your ears, but suddenly, the crunching sounds come to a halt, and you sense a presence looming over you. A shiver runs down your spine, and your heart starts beating faster, thumping so loudly you’re afraid it may give away your awakened state. The presence silently kneels down beside you, crawling even closer, too close for comfort; and then, you feel it—cold digits ghosting over your cheek, their featherlight touch almost tentatively soft.

Astarion.

Now you remember. You offered to let him feed on you earlier, a habit which you’ve unexpectedly picked up in recent days, although the reason for such eludes you. Perhaps it was his pained expression when he asked you the first time, or maybe something else—you’re not entirely certain, but the fact of the matter is, he is here, except unlike other nights, you are fully aware of your surroundings. Not only that, it has been no more than a fortnight since your little tryst in that pretty clearing, which it seems both of you are intent on pretending never happened. You more so than him—it would be insincere of you to claim you haven’t noticed the dangerous glint in his eyes, how he leans closer when you talk, the cunning smirks and wistful glances. Truth be told, you’re still unsure what to make of it all; none of it is how you expected it would be, not your time together, and certainly not the aftermath. Him, too—though it may be bold of you to assume so, you can’t help but think that his show of vulnerability, however brief, had not been intentional. Ever so often you idly muse over the raw perplexity etched across his face when you invited him to drink from you then, how he looked at you in utter disbelief, letting the mask of a debonair lover slip for a split second; how his kisses became more fervent, his touches less calculated, the confusion never truly seeming to leave him until you were done. And then, the morning after—the hurt in his voice, the complex feelings he appeared to be trying to suppress seeping from every word, as if he had been prepared for anything and everything but genuine yearning, and you ruined it all for him.

“This isn’t about hunger. It’s about pleasure.”

The digits on your cheek slide downwards, gliding across the curve of your jaw and towards your slender neck, where they stop for a brief moment, only to then press down on it, feeling around as if searching for something—an artery, pulsing so very tantalizingly with your precious crimson, a feast set out entirely for him. With his other hand, he gently runs his fingers through your hair and brushes it behind your shoulder, exposing his prize, and repositioning himself to straddle you, he lowers his head until his mouth is hovering right above it. He stays like this for a while, and your blood runs cold as it dawns on you that he may have noticed you are not asleep, but before long, his skin finally comes into contact with yours—however, rather than the sharp pain you’d been expecting, you feel only the pillowy softness of his lips; a tender kiss, which is then followed by another, and then another. One of his hands stays tangled in your hair, cradling your head, and he splays the other on the ground beside you to support himself. His fangs lightly graze the throbbing vein with each peck, almost teasingly, until finally, he sinks them into the sensitive flesh, carefully and steadily so as not to wake you. The uncomfortable sensation is not foreign to you, although it is clear he has become more accustomed to this, even if you have not; his technique has significantly improved, and after the initial stab, it hardly hurts anymore, other than a dull ache every time he swallows, which he does quite enthusiastically.

“Just you and me and—well, maybe a little death?”

Letting out low grunts and guttural moans as he drinks, Astarion sucks ever so vigorously, seemingly more at ease due to your apparent lack of consciousness. Your face gradually grows warmer as you notice tension building up low in your stomach, the noises he makes and the feeling of his plush lips and wet tongue against your skin causing your body to react with pathetic wantonness. You try to stifle the impending arousal, doing your best to remind yourself that he is only feeding, nothing more, nothing less; until you notice the hand on which he had been leaning make its way from its place on the ground to rest on your waist, gingerly moving upwards until his long fingers brush against the plump of one of your breasts, almost as if by accident—it is, however, no accident when two of them then pinch a pebbling nipple through the thin fabric of your nightshirt, delicately massaging the pert nub while the others knead the squishy surrounding flesh. The ache between your legs swells with desire, and you flusteredly bite back the whimper threatening to escape the confines of your closed mouth; believing you to be deep in slumber, he has no reason for such restraint, and his vocalizations increase in frequency and volume alike. 

Having to now use his upper body strength to keep himself propped up, he decides to instead gently fall on top of you, momentarily unlatching from your neck to then slightly push you to the side and press his strong chest flush against your back, one hand woven in your hair and the other cupping your breast still. With almost desperate keenness, he hooks one of his legs over yours, shoving his crotch against your rear, and immediately you notice the rock hard bulge nudging the space between your buttocks. The tips of your ears burn bright red at this realization, making you wonder how common of an occurrence this must be; as your mind wanders to the night when he first bit you, he sinks his fangs back into the bruised vein, and your eyes water a little due to the sudden pain, which you quickly forget about once you feel his hips start almost imperceptibly grinding against your own. Wedging the bulge deeper within the valley of your ass, he moves it to and fro, almost in rhythm with his sucking of your blood, the digits on your bosom earnestly playing with your nipple and those in your hair tenderly caressing the tousled tresses. 

“Hm—hnng…” Astarion groans lewdly, lasciviously, making suggestive wet sounds while sensually lapping at your crimson. No longer satisfied to feel you up through your clothes, he sticks his hand under your shirt, and his cold fingers quickly resume fondling the soft skin of your breast, in response to which shock waves shoot up your legs and arms. Freeing the digits tangled in your hair, he brings them to your ribs, sliding their pads along your navel and down towards your groin, where he then firmly grabs one of your supple thighs. That’s when it occurs to you how unlike your night together he seems to be acting—eagerly exploring your body with almost adolescent clumsiness, his movements sloppy and impulsive, he appears to be entirely focused on taking rather than giving; having no reason to try to impress you, he acts greedily instead, intent on achieving his own personal ecstasy above all else, a fact that doesn’t bother so much as instill in you a puzzling sense of relief.

Increasing the pace of his thrusts, he tightens the grip of his leg around yours, and for a short while you all but forget that your crimson is running down his throat still, unable to focus on anything but the heat irradiating from his skin as it becomes ever warmer the more he feeds. When you notice you can no longer feel the tips of your toes, it is far too late—a tingling sensation spreads across your heavy limbs due to the loss of blood, and holding onto a single thought proves far too difficult, your mind now a messy whirlwind of memories and abstractions. Your arousal persists even as your conscience starts to wane; slick soaks through your underpants, the sweet scent of which causes Astarion to immediately stop moving, freezing as if caught with his fingers inside the cookie jar. After what seems like an eternity, both his hands and fangs leave your helpless form, and he shuffles behind you, presumably looking for something—before you can even begin to wonder what, you feel him press a soft piece of fabric against the fresh set of bite marks on your neck, which he uses to gently wipe the thick red blooming from the small wounds. 

Worried that any further stimulation might disturb your sleep, he decides to attempt a less bold approach instead, pulling away slightly, although your legs remain twisted together. Barely awake now, the echoes of the forest reach your ears in hushed, distant hums, but you can still hear him as he brings the bloodstained cloth to his nose, taking in your scent deeply, eyes closed and a libidinous moan falling from his pretty lips. One of his now freed hands hastily makes its way to the waistband of his pants, only to then slip under it, and as soon as his elegant digits brush against the velvety crown of his cock, he wraps them around its engorged girth, squeezing lightly and drawing pearly droplets of precome from the weeping slit. 

“Mngh…” he croaks, his voice raspy and hoarse, and you can’t tell for sure, but a whisper that vaguely sounds like your own name wafts through the air and vanishes into the evening sky as he starts sliding his hand up and down his length, smearing the clear liquid seeping from the leaking tip all over himself. Prior to your night of passion, this is how he would choose to relieve the painful erection inevitably provoked by his daily feedings, only he would retreat to his tent then; once you became more intimate, things changed, and raw eroticism would percolate into every session, images of your moments together sweeping through his mind and springing his aching sex to life with each gulpful of your lifeblood. The instant you offered him your neck, all he had ever known suddenly came into question—drinking from you while balls-deep into your tight cunt was an experience unlike any other, to the point of almost completely resignifying the concept of pleasure for him. By owning your body, he had made you his, even if only temporarily; your blind trust was something he had never before experienced, and not once had he felt so powerful as with you squirming under him, completely submitting to his whims. 

“Astarion, please…” he recalls you whimpering, the sound of his name on your pink tongue so enticingly sultry, stirring up in him all sorts of conflicting feelings; lust, infatuation, guilt, anger, all blended together and indistinguishable from one another. How beautiful a vision you had made then—such a pretty, luscious thing, flushed cheeks and half-lidded eyes glinting with coquettish longing. The more he finds himself caring, the more he hates you for it; the more his hatred for you grows, the more he wants you by his side. Choosing to manipulate you into a tactical alliance was the culmination of careful and meticulous deliberation—at once deadly and most pleasing to the eye, yet seemingly unaware of either fact; a naive, kind fool, lost and alone, his perfect target from every angle, you were the obvious candidate. He had no way of knowing at the time—how you would unwittingly beat him at his own game and steal your way into his undead heart, without even really trying. 

While pumping his now glistening cock, your precious face is all Astarion can think of, every detail of it perpetually burned onto his retinas—long, thick lashes, curtaining doe-like eyes; sweet little freckles speckling the bridge of your nose; smooth waxen skin and plump rosy lips, so soft and kissable. And your scent, oh, your scent—delicious and intoxicating, such a lovely, delectable bouquet. Although now warm, his hand could never compare to the feeling of your slickened walls clenching and fluttering around him, and no amount of pressure would ever be able to replicate the sensation of stretching them open, coaxing yelps and cute whiny pants out of you with each nudge of your cervix. He wonders for a moment what other expressions he has yet to witness you make; in what other manners he has yet to take you, in what other positions he has yet to watch you come undone. Maybe on all fours, that round ass of yours sticking out so very invitingly, begging to be devoured; maybe on your knees, darkened lips wrapped tightly around his cock, eyes watering and drool dripping down onto the swollen peaks of your perky breasts as you accommodate all of him like the good girl you are. Each idea is more enticing than the one before, and the very thought of acquainting himself with all the ins and outs of your body makes him feel alive, bulging veins and tumid cockhead pulsating madly against his sweaty palm as he goes over the endless possibilities. He had tasted you once; now, he craves every inch of your being, his hunger insatiable. 

“Mine…” he growls possessively, picturing your tits bouncing and the rouged knot atop your dripping core throbbing for him as he feels his climax draw nearer, rubbing the cloth sullied with your crimson against his nose, your taste still fresh in his mouth and a trail of red running down his chin. You are not his, not yet, but although he curses himself for it, he would bring his simple plan to fruition, for all the wrong reasons; he wants you, he needs you—his own little bundle of joy, his light in the darkness, his glimmer of solace, his, his, his, and his alone. He won’t share your kindness, not with your companions, not with anyone, and he cares not if his greediness makes him unworthy, for he never deserved any of it in the first place; regardless, you’d still extend a hand to the wretch who put a knife to your throat, toyed with your emotions and sucked you dry, in more ways than one. You may not realize it, but in sharing your life essence with him, you breathed color into his world, roused within his soul a vital spark he’d long forgotten had once ever been there. He may not be entitled to it, but he’d still have it all—he’d still have you, to the bone and beyond.

“Oh, gods…” With one last stroke, Astarion empties himself on his hand and stomach, legs convulsing and hips stuttering, letting go of the cloth to then nuzzle his face into the crook of your neck, lips pressed against the bloodied gashes maculating your otherwise flawless skin. The inside of his pants is now covered in come, yet even as the thick fluid runs uncomfortably down his thighs, he feels strangely at peace—happy, even. His softening cock twitches and jerks still, but fearing that his luck may soon run out, he lets go of it and wipes his fingers on the hem of his shirt, which he learns is also stained with his seed; once they’re sufficiently clean, he wraps both of his arms around your waist in a tight embrace, focusing on the gentle raising of your chest as you inhale ever so softly, finally at rest. 

“This is a gift, you know.”

He won’t forget it. Regardless of what may lie ahead, he won’t. Warm flesh, beating heart; as your crimson courses through his veins, the thread of life now connects you both, your fates forever intertwined. When morning comes, all will be back to normal, but for now, he shall hold you, cradle you, as he would a lover. A true lover—though what would that be, if not prey that wakes by his side once the dawn breaks? Disturbing as that thought may be, it is of little import for now; basking in the clarity of death, he allows himself a moment of reprieve, for your time together is far from over. What treasures will the future bestow? Why—finding out is but a matter of waiting.

[kbwrites]

The Lord's Favorite CH. 5

synopsis: Amaryllis (/ˌæməˈrɪlɪs/)[1] is the only genus in the subtribe Amaryllidinae (tribe Amaryllideae). A vibrant bloom that symbolizes new beginnings and fresh starts. They are often associated with winter and the holiday season.

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⚝content: trueform!Sukuna x f!reader, angst, slowburn

⚝wc: 3k

⚝a/n: I've been really slacking on updating this series, gonna try harder I swear.

Sorry.

Even the thought of the word sounded wrong to him. He was a king–ruthless and commanding. His subjects kissed the ground he walked on. There was never a choice he made, that was up for debate. Every criticizing eye was swiftly plucked out, questioning tongue severed.

 But, you—seemed to be a point of contention. Ever since your arrival that was the trend you followed. It was vexing, sure and yet he wouldn’t dream of changing the dynamic.

Why did the sight of you crying so affect him? Why was it that you, a mere servant, could disturb his centuries of carefully maintained control? It wasn’t just your fear that unsettled him; it was the realization that you had managed to penetrate his defenses in a way no one else had.

With a frustrated growl, Sukuna stopped pacing and stared at the reflection in his ornate mirror. The king he saw there was every bit as formidable as he’d always been, but the reflection now held a hint of something else—something vulnerable that he could barely recognize.

His eyes drifted to the door, hoping for any sign of your arrival. He replayed the conversation from earlier, the way you had looked at him, shrunk under his yelling.

As night fell, the emptiness of his bed became a stark reminder of your absence. The usual solace of his grand chambers turned oppressive, and no matter how much he tossed and turned, sleep eluded him. The silence was deafening, only filled with thoughts of you.

He turned over for what felt like the hundredth time, his frustration mounting. For the first time in hundreds of years–the king of curses could not sleep.

Every creak of the palace, every distant sound seemed magnified in the quiet of his chambers. His usual patience frayed, replaced by an unsettling anxiety. He clenched his jaw and stared at the ceiling, the weight of his own thoughts pressing down on him.

The minutes turned to hours.

As the hours dragged on and the first light of dawn began to seep through the heavy curtains, Sukuna finally acknowledged the truth he had been fighting: your presence—or the lack of it—affected him more than he was willing to admit. He needed to find you.

 Throwing off the covers, he rose from bed with a determined stride.

He navigated through the labyrinth of his palace. Looking through every room, his irritation growing each second he failed to locate you.

Finally, he encountered Uraume, who was in the midst of their morning duties. Sukuna’s usual composure was replaced by a rare edge of desperation. “Uraume.” he barked, his voice carrying a sharp edge. “Where is she?”

Uraume’s eyes widened in surprise. “My lord, I—”

“Do not play games with me,” Sukuna interrupted, his frustration palpable. “I demand to know where she is.”

Uraume, taken aback by the king’s sudden intensity, struggled to maintain their usual calm demeanor. “I do not know, my lord. I have not seen her this morning.”

Sukuna’s jaw clenched, his gaze darkening. “Find her.” he commanded, his voice leaving no room for argument. “Inform me immediately when you do.”

After what felt like hours of searching, Sukuna’s relentless pursuit led him to the library—a place he rarely visited.

As he pushed open the heavy wooden door, his gaze swept over the vast array of bookshelves and reading nooks. His sharp eyes scanned the room with a mixture of hope and irritation.

There, nestled in a quiet corner of the library, he finally found you. You were lying on a velvet sofa, the soft light filtering through the high windows casting a gentle glow over you. Your breathing was steady, but the sight of you so unexpectedly calm, yet so isolated, struck him with a fresh wave of frustration.

Sukuna stood still for a moment, the weight of his anger still mingling in his chest. He had expected to find you hiding, but the sight of you resting so peacefully, despite the turmoil from the previous day, left him momentarily speechless.

“Why are you here?” His voice was sharp. He tried to suppress the concern in his tone, but it seeped through nonetheless.

You stirred at the sound of his voice, slowly opening your eyes. Seeing him standing over you, the mixture of his commanding presence and the faint softness in his gaze was almost disorienting.

“I... slept here.” you murmured, as you sat up.

Sukuna’s expression softened slightly, though his frustration remained evident. “Do not think that you can simply evade me. I was looking for you.”

You looked up at him, trying to find the right words to explain. “I..needed a moment away.”

Sukuna’s brow furrowed, a flicker of hurt flashing across his face. Away? Away… from him?

His anger seemed ready to boil over. He clenched his fists at his sides, visibly struggling to keep his composure.

He started to say something more, but the words choked in his throat. He paused, his face contorting as he wrestled with his emotions. “Come with me.” he said abruptly, his voice strained. 

Without waiting for a response, Sukuna turned on his heel, and you watched as his broad shoulders shifted, tension coiling beneath his skin. The silence that followed felt like an unspoken command, so you rose quietly, trailing behind him as he led the way out of the library and through the grand halls of the palace.

Each turn felt more hidden, the winding path narrowing until the towering palace walls faded behind you. Sukuna moved with purpose, leading you through a barely visible trail as if he had walked it countless times before. The air grew cooler, more secluded, and with every step, the tension between you deepened, thickening the silence.

When the path opened into the garden, your breath caught in your throat. You had never seen this place before—none of the servants had even whispered of its existence. A private sanctuary, tucked away from the rest of the palace. The delicate rustling of leaves, the vibrant flowers, and the gentle trickle of a fountain made it feel like stepping into a dream, so unlike the cold, imposing grandeur of the palace.

You glanced around in awe, but Sukuna remained still, his back to you, as if the beauty of the garden was inconsequential to him. He stopped near the center, his shoulders rising and falling with a deep breath, barely holding back the storm of emotions that brewed within. You hesitated, waiting for him to break the silence.

"This place..." He paused, as if the words were unfamiliar to him, his jaw tightening with the effort to continue. "No one but Uraume knows of it." His crimson gaze finally meets yours, studying your reaction. You look up at him, caution etched on your face.

“My Lord… why did you bring me here?” You finally find your voice.

His jaw clenched, his fists curling at his sides as if he were holding back words he didn’t know how to express. For a moment, he said nothing, his piercing stare taking in every detail of your face.

When he finally spoke, his voice was lower, the usual edge softened just slightly. “Because...”

He hesitated, his expression hardening once more, though his eyes betrayed a flicker of uncertainty. “Because you needed to see this. Needed to understand that..." He stopped himself again, frustration flaring briefly in his gaze.

He tore his eyes away from yours, staring instead at the quiet garden around you, the flowers swaying gently in the breeze as if mocking his struggle. "I could not sleep." 

“You… couldn’t sleep.” you repeat.

Sukuna’s eyes narrowed as if he regretted saying it aloud. "No," he growled, his tone sharper than intended. He shifted his weight, clearly battling with himself. "I couldn’t sleep because you weren’t where you should be." His fists tightened briefly at his sides, and for a moment, you thought his temper might snap again, but he held back. He took a deep breath, looking back at the garden.

“Where I should be…” you echoed, the weight of the words sinking in. Bitterness filled your mouth at the thought.

You had never had a place to belong, passing from one household to the next—no family truly wanting you. Being taught to serve, be invisible, to follow orders without question. “Belonging” was a luxury that other people had, you had only known obligations, expectations, and silence.

You swallowed hard, unsure of how to respond. "My Lord… I’ve never had a place where I was meant to be." Your voice quiet.  You kept your eyes low, avoiding his gaze, afraid of what you might see in it. Afraid of what he might see in it. "I’ve only ever been where I was told… where I was needed. There’s never been a place that was… mine."

“I see,” Sukuna said softly, breaking the heavy silence that had settled between you.

“Your absence… is felt.” His voice was a low murmur, almost introspective.

The admission hung in the air, delicate and uncharacteristic of him. Sukuna’s usual command was replaced with a rare, raw honesty, his battle with his own emotions evident in the tightness of his jaw and the uncertainty in his eyes.

For a moment, you looked up, meeting his gaze. The depth of his words, the way he had fought to express them, was both startling and unsettling. You had never imagined that your presence—or absence—could affect him so deeply.

“I’m… sorry,” you said finally, the words escaping before you could second-guess them. “I didn’t mean to cause such distress.”

“No.” he said eventually, his tone laced with frustration and reluctance. “It’s not just… about distress.” He took a deep breath, the words seemingly stuck in his throat. “Yesterday, I... I lost my temper.”

The awkwardness of his apology was palpable as if each word was a battle against his own nature. The struggle was evident in the way his shoulders tensed and his fingers clenched into fists before relaxing. He was trying to bridge a gap that his usual demeanor couldn’t easily cross.

You looked at him, your mouth agape in shock, maybe the night of no sleep had cause hallucinations. Had you heard him? Were you mistaken?

The usual commanding presence that inspired fear and respect was now tempered by an uncharacteristic hesitation and softness. It was as though you were seeing him for the first time, not just as a king, but as a man grappling with his own emotions.

You quickly caught yourself, regaining composure as you took in the full scope of his vulnerability. The stark contrast between the imposing figure of Sukuna and the genuine, albeit awkward, sincerity he had just displayed was striking. His powerful frame, usually so unyielding, seemed momentarily diminished in the garden’s serene atmosphere.

He turned away briefly, running a hand through his pink hair in a rare show of agitation. He turned his back to you again, but the tension in his posture spoke volumes. “It is… difficult for me, to express… what I mean.”

He cast a quick, almost helpless glance over his shoulder. “You’re... you’re allowed in this garden. Whenever you want. It’s not meant to be hidden from you.”

Slowly, you took a step forward, the shock giving way to a tentative understanding. "Thank you, my Lord," you said quietly,. "For… sharing this with me. And for allowing me a place here."

“You… are welcome.”

Your gaze shifted to a nearby flower, its vibrant petals standing out against the verdant backdrop. Curious, you asked, “What’s this one?”

Sukuna’s eyes followed your gaze, and for a moment, he seemed to find solace in the change of focus. “That’s an amaryllis” he said, his voice regaining a touch of its usual authority.

“Amaryllis..” you practice, tasting the name on your tongue.

“Yes,” he continues, “It symbolizes strength and new beginnings. It thrives even in harsh conditions.” He shifted his gaze back to you, eyes tracing the lines of your face with an intensity that made your pulse quicken.

You reached out for him, your hand trembling slightly. Sukuna’s eyes widened slightly, and he hesitated for a moment before he slowly took your hand in his. He guided it firmly to his chest, where his robe parted to reveal the warmth of his skin,a stark contrast to the cool garden air. You could feel the steady, rhythmic beat of his heart beneath your palm—a heartbeat that seemed to resonate with the depth of his emotions.

He stared intently into your eyes, his own filled with a mixture of sincerity and trepidation. “You have…” he began, his voice barely above a whisper. “You have… affected me. More than you know.” 

The air between you grew heavier, your breath catching in your throat as his hand trailed over your face, gentle and calculated. Tracing the soft skin of your cheek, to your jaw—brushing against your bottom lip. As his fingers lingered on your lips, the world outside the garden seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you in this suspended moment.

“My lord—”  you began, your voice wavering with a question that never fully formed.

For a brief moment, neither of you moved. Your hand still resting on his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat. The garden around you seemed to quiet, the faint rustling of leaves and the distant chirp of crickets fading into the background as if the world itself was holding its breath.

Then, with a slow exhale, Sukuna guided you to a softer patch of grass further within the garden, a place hidden beneath a canopy of trees, where the light filtered through the leaves in soft, fragmented patterns.

"I meditate here," he said quietly, sharing a secret. He lowered himself gracefully onto the grass, his movements deliberate, leaving just enough space beside him for you to join.

"You… meditate?" you asked, almost without thinking, your tone laced with disbelief.

He turned to look at you, amusement tugging at the corner of his lips. "Did you think me incapable of silence and thought?" His voice was tinged with sarcasm, though it didn’t sting. "That I am so detached, so unfeeling?"

The embarrassment crept up your neck, your eyes darting away as you bit your lip. "I didn’t mean—" you began, but the words felt clumsy, an apology for something you hadn't meant to assume.

Sukuna’s gaze softened, and he let out a quiet breath, his amusement fading into something more genuine. "It is…easy to believe," he murmured, "given how I appear." His hand reached out, beckoning you closer. "Come.”

Slowly, you settled beside him, the grass cool beneath your skin as the quiet of the garden enveloped you both. Sukuna reclined, two arms propped behind his head, allowing the stillness of the space to calm his unease. You glanced at him, the formidable king of curses suddenly appearing more human in the soft light of the garden.

An awkward silence stretched between you. Sukuna, clearly uncomfortable with the quiet, cleared his throat and tried to make conversation. "What of your family?" he asked.

The question caught you off guard, and you hesitated, the pain of your past surfacing briefly. "My family… they died when I was young," you said quietly, your voice betraying a hint of the sorrow you felt. "I was left alone after that."

Sukuna’s eyes widened slightly, and he shifted uncomfortably, his usual confidence momentarily faltering. "I see," he said awkwardly, trying to find the right words. "I didn’t mean to… to bring up something so... personal."

You looked at him, noticing his genuine discomfort and the uncharacteristic hesitation in his gaze. "It’s alright," you reassured him. "It’s been a long time."

Sukuna let out a frustrated breath, closing his eyes briefly. "This…isn't exactly my strength." he admitted, almost begrudgingly.

"And here I thought you were all-powerful in every aspect." a small smirk tugs your lips as you chuckle. Sukuna’s cheeks flushed slightly, avoiding your gaze.

Before you could react, Sukuna moved with surprising swiftness, crawling on top of you and trapping you gently between the grass and his strong arms. His gaze was intense, crimson eyes piercing, boreing holes into your own.

"Do you find this amusing?" he asked, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver through you.

The sudden shift in position left you breathless, your heart pounding in your chest as you looked up at him. The distance between you was minimal, the warmth of his body so close that you could feel the heat radiating from him. "I’m not accustomed to this. It is… difficult. You make it difficult.” 

 He hovered just above you, his breath mingling with yours, “You have a way of unraveling me. It’s... unsettling.”

The warmth between you grew. Every subtle movement of his body against yours sent a shiver through you, making your skin tingle.

Sukuna’s gaze fell to your lips, the tension between you crackling with an electric anticipation. He hesitated, his expression a mix of determination and longing. “What is it you do to me?” he asked, his voice a whisper that seemed to echo in the stillness.

The man who had always been a figure of strength and control was now entirely absorbed by you, and the realization made your heart race even faster.

His nearness was intoxicating, every touch and glance fueling the fire that had been kindling between you. With a sudden, almost desperate movement, his lips descended on yours, capturing them in a kiss that was both rough and dizzying.

His grip on you tightened, his hands framing your face with a desperate intensity. The moment felt like it stretched endlessly, the world outside forgotten as his tongue entered your mouth with an urgency that bordered on frantic. He explored every inch of you, his taste mingling with yours. The kiss was a maelstrom of sensation, his passion overwhelming in its depth.

Your hands roamed the expanse of his chest, feeling the heat of his skin and the silk of his robe on your fingertips.  Sukuna’s groan vibrated through you, He pressed more of his weight into you, his two lower arms gripping your waist with a possessive force, his nails digging into your flesh as if to anchor himself to you. 

As he finally pulled away from your lips, you were met with the sight of him—his pupils dilated, breathing ragged, and his heartbeat quicker now. Sukuna’s chest heaved with every breath, his expression pure hunger.

He wanted to consume you. And you were more than ready to let him.

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[pombeom]

pose away | yeonjun fic (nsfw)

nsfw, mdni!

pairings: enemies to lovers, arrogant model!yeonjun x sub photographer!reader

warnings: nicknames, slut shaming, blowjob, wall sex, markings, unprotected sex, hair pulling

a/n: this might be my favourite fic written yet! djsjkskssjjaka im craving mean yeonjun so bad rn! not proofread

Working as a freelance photographer bought its many challenges. Today was one of them. You hauled yourself out of bed early in the morning to begin setting up the make-shift studio in your living room. Whilst you were studying photography at a college, working part time gave you the opportunity to build up both your experience and portfolio. Often times you don’t get a choice as you take on whatever projects come your way. Even when the person you despised most on campus comes to you asking for a photoshoot, no matter how much you wanted to refuse, you agreed, setting up a date for your shoot which happened to be today. 

You move the lights arounds, working out the best places for them and begin creating an inspiration mood board on your phone before he arrives. The sun burned through the large windows, raising the inside inside your home so you turn on the aircon, hoping it would cool your house down in time for your guest’s arrival. You know he would complain about it being too warm being the spoiled brat he is. You didn’t want to take any chances, especially not today when he had promised you a large sum of money for your services even though you often charge little to nothing. 

Just as you finished setting up, cleaning up the final bits and bobs around the room, you hear the bell ring and not even a second later, a loud thumping on the door. 

“My god, he can’t even wait a second can he,” you sigh shaking your head at his impatience, already regretting accepting his clientele. 

You open the door to see a tall man standing arrogantly in front of you, wanting to wipe away that smirk on his face as he walked in, shoving past you. 

“Nice set up you there,” he says as he makes his own way through your living room, seating himself down on your leather sofa, manspreading his long legs. 

“Thanks,” you roll your eyes, attempting to suppress your annoyance. Why on earth is Yeonjun in your house right now? How did this even happen? 

He’s wearing a linen shirt, the first few buttons undone, and black slacks making his outfit look laid back in a put together kinda way. His long hair is styled so it’s tucked behind his ear but a few strands strayed and fell onto his face. No matter how much you hated him, you weren’t blind to the fact that he’s probably the most attractive person on campus. There’s a certain aura he possesses that just lures you in. But you were better than that. He doesn’t seem to control you the way he does other girls. No matter how many times you nearly slipped into his charm, you had always managed to bring yourself back. 

“Are you gonna tell me what to do, or are you just gonna keep staring at me like that?” His sharp voice brings you back, slightly embarrassed that he caught you. 

“I wasn’t staring, simply observing you to see what I’m working with.” 

“I’m pretty sure you’ve already “observed” me enough before. Unless you wanna keep staring, then go for it. I don’t mind. I know you like it too,” you let out a sigh, making sure he could hear it, rolling your eyes at his self-centredness. How you were to put up with this for another 3 hours was beyond you. 

“Come stand here. You see the green tape? Just make sure you stand behind it. You can pose away Mr Choi Yeonjun,” you instruct, getting behind the camera as he makes his way onto the white screen. 

Without needing much guidance, he gets into all sorts of poses. He starts off by crouching, sticking out his tongue, eluding with sexiness before shifting to another pose where he’s standing up again, hands in both pockets as he tilts his head ever so slightly but in all the ways that makes a difference. 

For the next 30 minutes, he is constantly moving while you’re almost having to do an entire workout just to keep up with him. The heat of the room also gets to you, your cheeks flushed red which Yeonjun notices. 

“Are you blushing from how good I look, doll?” his smirk, combined with the nickname sets you off, feeling the heat burn through your cheeks even more. 

“Shut up. How about we take a break?” You question, trying to distract you from the fact that you’re now ever so slightly turned on by his comment. 

With that, Yeonjun is slumped back on your couch, while you run to the kitchen, rummaging through your freezer trying to find an ice lolly to cool and calm you down. 

You discard the wrapper in the bin, taking the long stick of coloured ice in your mouth, sucking off the first layer is its juices. You moan at the feeling of the cold entering your mouth, as the ice begins to melt around it. Walking back to the living room, Yeonjun puts his phone down to look up at you, once again with a smile that has a mischievous allure plastered onto it. 

“Doll, you think you could suck a cock like that?” 

His remark has you pulling the ice lolly out your mouth instantly, making a pop as it comes out. Your jaw is left hanging as you feel the butterflies in your stomach travel up to your throat, leaving you speechless. 

He stand up and steps towards you ever so slowly that for some reason you wish he would go faster so he could be closer to you sooner. When he gets less than 2 feet away, you step back hitting the wall as his arms cage you, trapping you in his presence. His fingers wipe away the juice from your iced treat in one swipe as he takes it to his own mouth sucking off the liquid. Your eyes enlarge from the proximity and his actions, feeling the ice drop down your fingers as well as a wetness forming in between your legs. 

“I asked you a question. Do you think you could suck a cock like that?” 

“Mhmm…” you were only able to make a short sound while you nod your head, not shying away from his sharp gaze. 

“Why don’t you show me then, doll?” He caresses your hair before grabbing it into a tight ponytail and before you know it, you’re on your knees below him, almost seeming as if you were begging for his dick. 

With his free hand, he unbuttons his trousers letting them slip down his lean legs and as if on cue, you pull down his black boxers, his long cock springing out. Whilst he may have been an average on thickness, he definitely made up for it in length, so much so that you could already feel it hitting the tip of your cervix. 

“Come on doll, suck my pretty cock.” 

You begin by encapsulating just his tip in your mouth, letting the coldness from the ice transfer onto his hard length to which it reacts by twitching in your mouth as Yeonjun hisses. You slowly move up and down his shaft looking up at his face whilst doing so, meeting his eyes filled with lust. 

“You’re pretty mouth looks so good around my cock, doesn’t it, doll? Go faster.”

His grip on your hair tightens as he begins shoving his dick into your mouth as if on a rampage, tears falling from your eyes. His other hand grabs ahold of your chin, lifting it up further to better his view of what he was doing to you. Your moans vibrate against his cock, sending him into a high as he grunts with every pump. You feel him twitch in your mouth and before he can cum, he pulls out harshly, making the same pop as your ice lolly. Your sobs don’t stop even after he’s pulled out, craving to feel him more. Especially inside you. 

“Aww, is my doll crying because she wants me? I think I can help with that. Stand up,” he commands, his voice firm but flirty. His assurance only made him sexier at this present moment as much as you hated to admit it. 

Once you’re on your feet, he slams you back into the wall and pulls down your shorts in one swift move, revealing your white lace thong. 

“I knew my doll was a slut for me. Even if you hate to actually say it.” 

Your excuse was that you hadn’t done your laundry yet so you were left with your more extravagant pieces of lingerie but even you knew that deep down he was somewhat correct. 

You feel a sudden sensation as you feel Yeonjun’s lips attached to your neck, sucking under your ear, instantly having found your sweet spot. Melting under his magic touch, your hands automatically move around his neck, pulling him in closer, wanting to feel him more. 

“Yeonjun. Touch me please.” 

You were desperate for him and you hated it but with the puddle increasingly seeping through your underwear, you couldn’t care less, only wanting to feel him inside you. 

Yeonjun, strokes your clothed pussy, that being enough to send you off high, as you moan in his ears, humping his hands. 

“Such a slut for me, are you doll? Wonder what you’d be like if you had the real thing slamming into you?” 

And that’s exactly what he did. Pushing your thong to the side, he rams his cock in, not letting you adjust, pushing in and out of your pussy as he holds up your thigh, ensuring that he can hit into you deeper. With each thrust, you let out a sinful moan, as Yeonjun’s pride and ego skyrocket through the roof. As he picks up the pace he lifts you up, supporting you against the wall by holding up both your thighs. Even then, he didn’t slow down, continuing to slam his cock into you, abusing the top of your cervix over and over. 

“You’re so fucking hot, doll. Can’t wait to be cumming on you babe. Can’t wait to ruin you. You want that don’t you?” 

The way he thrusts has you feeling his cock all the way in your throat, making deep moans the only thing that come out your mouth. 

“Going dumb on my cock, doll? Such a slut aren’t you?” 

He rams into you even faster as you feel your orgasm getting closer. Your hole now sensitive as you feel the knot in your stomach build. 

“Yeonjun! I’m gonna cum!” You scream, wanting to reach your high. M

You let out one last moan as the orgasmix wave ripples through your entire body, leaving goosebumps on your skin. Yeonjun rides out your high before pulling out and pulling his own spurts of cum onto your T-shirt which you hasn’t removed. Your favourite black T-shirt was now stained with his cum, not knowing if a round of washing would help. 

You collapse as your legs were physically unable to hold you up but before you reach the ground, Yeonjun’s arms catch you, supporting your waist, helping you remain standing. 

“Fuck, you’re so hot. And you’re such a slut for me. If only I knew sooner. Would have fucked your brains out much sooner.” 

You finally fell. After 2 years of holding it back, you finally fell for Yeonjun’s charm and his lustful aura. Any sense of disappointment you would have felt was overridden with the fact that you had gotten the best sex of your life from this man you despise. 

[dixons-sunshine]

Through The Good Times And The Bad | Young!Daryl Dixon x Young!Fem!Reader

Summary: Of everything Daryl wanted to do with you, fighting certainly wasn't on that list. However, in every relationship, there was bound to be disagreements, but Daryl didn't know if you'd forgive him for what he had said. It took one night for him to realise that you weren't going anywhere.

Genre: Angst to fluff.

Era: Pre outbreak.

Part of the Shopping Spree, Hangout Dreams universe.

Warnings: Like one swear word, self deprecating thoughts.

Word count: 1.1k

A/n: Here's this short fic to make up in advance for the few days that it's gonna take me to write the fic that won the poll. Not gonna reveal too much about it, but it's called "I Never Lived For The Applause". I'll let your minds run wild with that.

As always, my requests are open for any TWD requests, as well as Scud Frohmeyer requests.

—

Stupid. That's what Daryl Dixon thought of himself. What he'd been thinking of himself for a whole week at that point. Stupid for lashing out at you. Stupid for what he called you. Stupid for not approaching you for an entire week. Stupid for not falling to his knees and apologising, begging for your forgiveness.

Sleep eluded him completely that night. How could he let that happen? How could he ruin the one good thing in his life? You'd been there for him since you moved to the trailer park when you were both merely twelve years old. You were his best friend, now his girlfriend, and he'd seemingly messed it all up in a matter of minutes.

Looking back, Daryl knew that he had been in the wrong. You were simply trying to help him, to reassure him that he didn't need his brother's approval, and he'd lashed out at you. He'd said some nasty things that someone as sweet and caring as you didn't deserve, all because you told him that he didn't have to help Merle with some stupid drug deal. He had seemingly damaged your relationship, in the end only to tell Merle no anyway.

Daryl scoffed to himself and turned over, wincing at the friction it caused on his freshly wounded side. His father had been relentless the past few days, bestowing beatings on him whenever he laid his eyes on his youngest son. Daryl had grown accustomed to sneaking out to your trailer when things got too bad to handle on his own, but now he didn't know if he was allowed to. He didn't know if you'd tell him to go to hell, and he wouldn't have blamed you if you did. You had every reason to hate him.

Frustrated by the inability to fall asleep, Daryl sat up in his bed. His body screamed in protest at his movements, the beating from only a few hours prior taking its painful root in his body. Trying to ignore the pain, he reached into his nightstand to grab a few painkillers you'd bought for him to help him when you couldn't. However, as his hands fell upon the bottle, his eyes caught sight of a Polaroid picture. It was a picture you had taken of the two of you a month prior. The picture was ridiculous; you had somehow convinced him to wear a facemask with you and had him pose with you for a photo. Despite the fact that he was against the idea initially, it definitely was one of his favourite memories with you. He loved you, and he didn't ever want to lose you.

Before the thought could fully register in his mind, Daryl was climbing out of his window and sneaking away from his trailer towards yours. He didn't know if you were still awake or if you'd even want to see him, but he needed to see you. He needed to apologise to you, even if you hated him. At least he would have gotten it off his chest.

In a matter of moments, he was standing outside your window. He hesitated for a moment, flashes of your argument a week prior flooding his mind. However, he shook the thoughts from his head and knocked on your window. Almost immediately, your lamp flickered on and your footsteps could be heard approaching the window.

Your window opened and without hesitation or demanding an explanation, you extended a hand to Daryl to help him climb in to your room. Once inside, he turned to you, ready to apologise, but you cut him off by bringing him into a comforting hug. You nuzzled your face into his chest, letting out a deep sigh. Daryl was caught off guard for a moment, but he wrapped his arms around you and kissed the top of your head before resting his chin there.

A minute of silence passed between the two of you. You simply stood there in each other's arms, basking in the comfort the hug brought the both of you. However, Daryl soon broke the silence, guilt and regret gnawing at his insides.

“M'sorry fer wha' I said. Fer lashin' out at ya,” he mumbled into your hair, closing his eyes when he felt you press a kiss against his clothed chest. “Please know tha' I didn't mean tha'. Not a single thing. Yer perfect to me.”

“It's okay,” you reassured him, pulling back slightly to gaze into the beautiful blues of his eyes. “You were just mad at your brother. I don't blame you at all.”

Daryl shook his head. “Ya should. I never shoulda said tha' in the first place. I wouldn't blame ya if ya hated me.”

“Daryl Dixon, you listen to me right now,” you started sternly, bringing a hand up to cup his cheek. “One little fight isn't going to scare me off. When I agreed to be your girlfriend, I didn't just sign up for the good times. I'll be here through the bad times as well. Nothing will ever change that. You're gonna have to do more than cuss me out for me to run for the hills.”

Daryl stared into your eyes for a moment, a small smile gracing his features. He nodded slowly, subconsciously leaning into your soft touch. “I love ya,” he whispered.

You smiled up at him before giving him a small kiss. When you pulled back, you rubbed his cheek with your thumb. “I love you too, you hard ass. Through thick and thin,” you assured him, before grabbing his hand and leading him over to your bed. “Now sit down while I go grab the first aid kit. By the way, you're staying over tonight. I'm not letting you go now.”

Daryl didn't mind the sound of that at all. In no time at all, you had cleaned his wounds, turned of the light and ushered him into bed. You had brought his head down to rest on your chest, and he wrapped his arms around you. You played with his hair, placing a tender kiss on his forehead, lulling him into sleep.

And for the first time that week, Daryl fell asleep without being plagued by nightmares of losing you.

©dixons-sunshine 2024. I do not give permission for my works to be copied, modified, adapted or translated to any other site or platform without evidence of my given consent.

[hatsunemitskislobotomy]

˚◞♡ ⃗ ❝ 𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙚 𝙠𝙞𝙨𝙨 𝙢𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙗𝙞𝙩𝙚 𝙢𝙚 ❞* ೃ༄

↳ ♡₊˚. ❝ ¡love and deepspace sorta kinda spicy! eluding headcanons lolz! ❞

·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙

something about those boys and ripping pantyhose’s… sigh

sure it’s attractive, quite attractive actually but more often than not the boys seem to miss the mark as to why you’re wearing them (and why it’s not okay to suddenly come back not wearing them) until one day you overhear tara and some of your other female colleagues discussing a durable pair of pantyhose’s perfect for the summertime where the typical deepspace hunter pants tend to be a little bit on the heavier side.

however your interest was piqued either way— might as well do the girls a favor and test how really durable they are

xavier

you two are so in sync with once another, gentle touches and heightened breathing— your reactions from each other drove each other crazy, it was perfect

which is why he looked like a kicked puppy when he realizes that the pantyhose’s you were wearing were NOT coming off with the hook of his finger

“i… i dont understand…”

oh poor thing they never do

you explain to him that the other female deepspace hunters wanted to test out their durability— you just happened to know a good test for them

he understands, but he still doesn’t know why you’re wearing it with him

you sigh, the initial test was a success but now he was really trying to make you spell it out for him

you pull out the small dagger out of its sheath that rested on your thigh

he looks at you in confusion as you wrap his fingers around the hilt

“i’m sure you can figure out your way around this obstacle.”

and then it clicks and his face of confusion is no more

it’s safe to say, the same trick won’t work on him twice

rafayel

this man takes it as a personal attack— like you might as well have had called him a lemurian slur

“so you want me to die?”

you loved him, but this man was always doing the absolute most but he won’t admit it

if anything you’re getting ALL the blame, you got him all worked up and then you stroll up wearing the indestructible pantyhose’s from hell

he flickers a flame in between his fingers

talking about some “i wonder if they’re fireproof”

you was not about to let him find out— YOU WERE STILL WEARING THEM

“what? can’t handle a little fire?”

and he had the nerve to act like you did an attempt on his life meanwhile this man was scheming as he poked and prodded the thick mesh around your thighs

you two practically start wrestling until he has you pinned

“fine we’ll do things your way, but promise to let me burn them after they’re off.”

zayne

you had been a brat obnoxious all evening it was no wonder he was itching to put you in your place

as per usual it was attractive how he’d reach over your body to pin your arms against the bed as face to face with your torso looking absolutely starved

but right when he was about to tear into you (figuratively and literally), that pesky pair of mesh you always sported were NOT budging

he had to pause and take a minute to reflect

my man was ready to ravish you like how a predator would to their prey but he was being bested by fabric

you were trying so hard not to laugh because you can see the cogs turning in his head

“it seems that i’ve played into your hands.”

you chuckle, innocently claiming that you were getting a tad bit tired of all the pantyhose’s that he’d tear into, it was a lot of money wasted

he insures that it’s never a waste he keeps a collection of all the ones he’s torn

the entire situation is too funny to you, you really can’t help but giggle at him

he really can’t stay annoyed at you, he also did find it a lot funnier than it should’ve been

he still wanted to have his way with you

“it’s no matter, all this is to show that i’ll have to be the gentleman you deserve.”

sure your pantyhose’s were spared that night but you weren’t

❀° ┄───╮

a/n: y’all this idea literally fell from the damn sky— well actually i just saw those instagram promo stories about those hella thick and durable pantyhose’s soooo thank instagram ig?

it’s nothing crazy— i can’t write smut without having a visceral reaction sooo uh… i salute the girlies on here who can bc PHEW 🫡🫡🫡

also i wrote this on the bus lolz, thank god for privacy screen protectors

okay love you all mwah mwah MWAHHHH

╰───┄ °❀

[dollfacefantasy]

Time to Kill

pairing: toji fushiguro x fem!reader

summary: during a night out at a club, you bump into a bounty hunter who has some time to kill.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, heavy dub-con, p in v, fingering, degradation, size kink, public sex, biting, mentions of murder, violence, death, guns, crime, etc.

word count: 4.2k

a/n: i will be back to RE after this i just wanted to try something new :) reblogs and comments mean the world <3 for @nexysworld and @kaitkatme cause they put me on jjk and i love them.

“Watch it, bounty hunter,” you scoff, eyes shooting a glare up at the guy who bumped into you and nearly knocked you down.

He returns your sneer with his own, staring down at you with condescending irritation. The fact that he towers over you is almost enough to make you regret the jab, but you bank on being in a crowded nightclub to keep you safe.

His hair hangs down into his eyes, making it harder to see his expression in the already dark hall. Regardless, you feel his gaze raking over your curves before fixating on your face.

“Maybe you should watch it, princess,” he responds. Even his voice sounded skeevy. 

The unaffected smirk on his face doesn’t elude you either despite the dim lighting. You roll your eyes and snake past him, brushing the confrontation off in hopes of still enjoying your night. Your first move is going back to the bar and downing a few more drinks. Then you make your way back to the main area to dance.

Your hips sway to the blaring music while the lights overhead bathe your skin in a red tint. The music pounds in the ground beneath you, up through your legs and into your heart. You let your head fall back and get lost in the sound of the drums. Everyone around you seems to be doing the same, bobbing to the rhythm. A sea of strangers moving together.

But as all that happens in your vicinity, you can still feel a set of eyes on you. You sense that same gaze from the hall, watching you as if you were prey ready to be pounced on. Acting as if you’re still moving purely to the song, you twist your head to the side and look around. As you expect, you catch his focus and with him in a brief stare.

You keep moving though, trying to ignore it. Maybe he was still pissy. Maybe he was bored. Either way, it really wasn’t any of your concern. He was none of your business beyond the altercation in the hall. And in your defense, you didn’t even actually know that he was a bounty hunter. You’d only heard rumors about him, the guy with the scar on his lip. He just had that look about him.

It didn’t really matter. The liquor was starting to get to your head. You felt less stable on your feet as you moved your body in between the others making up the crowd. Everything was bright and loud, the seams on your top were scratchy, and your head was swimming.

You begin pushing through people, stumbling towards the bathroom as you need a reprieve from all the action. Your attention is on not tripping or breaking your ankle in the tall shoes you wore, so you don’t notice his figure slithering through the room alongside you.

You walk down that same hallway you’d run into him the first time. Teetering back and forth, you push open the bathroom door. Two stalls stand opposite from the door with a mirror and a set of sinks next to them. You shuffle in towards the countertops, both palms landing on the cool surface. There’s red neon lights in the bathroom too. You have to squint while staring at your reflection. 

As you glance over yourself, you realize your sleeve is slipping off your shoulder, and your skirt is a little twisted out of place. You adjust your outfit before leaning closer to the mirror for further inspection. You’re shimmery with a light sheen of sweat, but there’s nothing you can do about that right now. Instead you pull out your lipgloss and swipe it across your pout with a few lazy strokes.

You’re busy tending to your appearance when the door behind you flies open. Your eyes flit to the reflection of the man who walked in. It was that guy. He looked even larger in the confined space of the bathroom. The red lighting shines directly on him, highlighting how his arms bulge as they emerge from his shirt, the way the fabric sits tight on his defined torso. To be real, he was starting to grow on you. But that must have been the drinks talking.

“Wrong bathroom, dumbass,” you say with a roll of your eyes. The drinks were responsible for that line too, dulling the fear that would have overtaken your nerves earlier.

“The other bathroom doesn’t have you in it, does it?” he asks, slipping inside and letting the door shut behind him.

He’s still against the wall parallel to the mirror. You eye him curiously, not making any sudden moves. In sober circumstances, you would be absolutely terrified. Your heart would be pounding, vision blurry, and hands shaking with anxiety at the prospect of a strange guy cornering you in the bathroom. But right now, you just had a muted uncertainty in the pit of your stomach.

“What do you want with me?” you ask, attempting to seem unamused, “Did I hurt your feelings?”

“It’s cute that you think that’s even a possibility,” he responds.

A smirk rises on his face as he steps closer to you. You can nearly feel his body against your back. His face remains clearly visible in the mirror as he stands at least an entire head higher than you. It was obvious from the start, but at this proximity, it was impossible to escape how big he was. Chills erupt across your skin as his hands coast up your arms and rest on your shoulders.

“You weren’t far off the mark before anyways,” he says.

You try to shrug him off, but his hands stay firmly in place. His eyes are locked onto your body, his current target. You were getting a little more jittery, but it wasn’t totally out of fear. Your fingers fumble as you jam your lip gloss back into your clutch.

“You didn’t answer my question,” you reply.

Beyond the strange mixture of emotions inside you, this conversation begins to grow annoying. Remarks that brush past each other instead of making direct hits. And he’s still so fucking smug. It's grating. Apparently your displeasure is visible since he chuckles and runs his fingertips down your jawline.

“Aw, look at that face,” he mocks, fingers coming up to hold your jaw, “Good to know you’re cute while pouting too.”

“What do you want?” you ask with more anger. You try to pry his hand away from your chin, but his grip is tight. There’s no getting it off.

“Impatient,” he chides, though his eyes don’t hold any irritation, “I just thought I’d check on you. Isn’t really safe for a girl like you to wander off all alone. Someone may want to take advantage.”

You try to turn around to push him away, but his hips have yours pinned to the countertop.

“Lucky for you, I have some time to kill before my real work starts,” he says.

His other hand drifts up to your chest, digits lightly dragging over your right breast, slowly moving closer and closer to the center. You hate your body in that moment for the way your nipples instinctively stiffen up beneath your top. Fortunately, he doesn’t seem to notice. Or at least he doesn’t point it out if he does.

“My nerves go crazy before a hit, y’know? I could use some stress relief,” he purrs in your ear, “Judging by how riled up you get, I think you could too.”

A shiver shoots up your spine while arousal simultaneously swirls between your legs. You glare at him through the reflection, but there’s no physical resistance this time. He was really growing on you now. He was pissing you off for sure, but it was starting to circle around to the point where you wanted to take out that rage in a more carnal manner. It doesn’t help when he continues speaking.

“The way you were dancing, I know you wanted someone to notice. Showing that tight ass off, just begging for some attention. Well, you have all of mine now,” he breathes, punctuating his statement with a light smack on your backside.

Heat creeps up your neck as he speaks. It was difficult to prevent yourself from being flustered in these circumstances, but you couldn’t just give in to this shithead. You had to still have some fight in you, right? Trying to keep your voice as firm as possible, you challenge him. “I don’t want it.”

With that simple statement, you jab your elbow back into his abdomen, allowing you to spin around. But that’s all you can do because he acts as if the move didn’t hurt him at all. His hand comes back to your jaw with a harsher grasp. Still despite the rough movements, he doesn’t seem to be bothered by your attempts at rejection.

“Too bad,” he states simply. He boosts you up onto the counter, using your neck as leverage. He slots himself between your legs to keep them spread and maintains eye contact the whole time. “Pretty little brat like you needs someone to show you your place.”

His hand delves between your thighs, pressing against your panties. He watches you closely as he strokes you over the fabric. You tense up a bit at first, a shaky breath exiting your lungs. It felt good obviously, but it was still weird. And on top of that, you couldn’t understand why he wasn’t just getting to the point and taking what he wanted.

He registers the confusion on your face and leans down closer to you. His breath fans across your neck. You can feel his lips brushing your ear.

“I’m not in a rush,” he says simply, “Got some time before my guy gets here. Rather play with you for a bit longer than wait around out there.”

He continues rubbing you through the cloth that separates your skin. He’s breathing heavier as he speeds up his movements, inhaling the scent of your perfume mixed with the liquor you’d both had. A breathy whine leaves you as his middle finger flicks over your clit. You hear him hum in approval before he lowers his head more and lays some sloppy kisses on your neck. He leaves some love bites, more to occupy himself than anything else. His teeth nip at the skin while his tongue laves over the mini bruises.

You’re starting to soak through your underwear. He knows it. He can feel it. The lacy fabric clings to your folds more, letting him feel more of you. A sharp puff of hot air comes from his nostrils, sending a chill over you as it hits the wet skin on your throat.

“You’ve been aching for this since your little tantrum, haven’t you? Probably could’ve fucked you right out there in front of everyone, and you wouldn’t have said a word. Except maybe ‘more,’” he says, his voice low and smooth with his own arousal.

“No,” you object out of instinct. Your words contradict the way your hips begin to buck against his fingers, itching for him to rip your panties off.

“Yes,” he chuckles, taking your hint and pulling the damp article of clothing down. 

His fingers slide through your wetness freely now. You sigh with some semblance of relief. Your head rests against the mirror, and you can only imagine the sinful image displayed in the glass right now. You spread open for this man who looms above you.

You shake your head lazily in response to him. Your already-intoxicated mind becomes less focused as the simmer of pleasure starts melting away the functioning parts of your brain.

“Yeah. Just tell me this. Do you do this often, or is it something special about me?” he mocks.

Your response is cut short as he slips two fingers inside you. You gasp at the stretch. You’re pretty sure you’ve had dick before that was the same size as this guy's warm-up. You spread your trembling legs wider for him as your teeth briefly sink into your bottom lip.

“Just shut up,” you whimper, eyes flutter closed as he massages your walls.

“If I had to bet, I’d say this is the first time. You’re all shaky for me,” he teases and gently laps at your pulse point, “And I can feel your heart ready to beat out of your chest.”

He was right about that. Your heartbeat thunders in your ears, thumping through all of your body. Your cheeks burn as he continues pumping in and out of your cunt. You tighten up around him, eyes fluttering at the sensation between your legs. Your slick gathers on his fingers and drips down to the marble under you.

“It’s cute really, knowing you’re not always such a slut,” he goes on.

You whine, loud enough that it echoes around the bathroom. His fingers curl within you, leading you towards the edge. One of your hands is flat on the counter, keeping you up right. The other is clasped around his wrist, your nails forming little red crescents on the skin. They dig in harsher as he keeps speaking.

“Like you better when you’re quiet,” you say between mewls and moans.

“I’d say the same for you if you weren’t making all those cute noises,” he says and starts thrusting his fingers in harder, “Got an innocent little thing like you moaning like a pornstar for me.”

Your head spins as the noise of his fingers inside your pussy starts to fill the bathroom. Your ear rests on your shoulder as you slump to the side in your drunken, lust-fueled haze. He just keeps on with his motions, working you right to the brink. Only when you’re writhing and whining like you’re about to lose it, does he stop and pull his digits out of you completely.

A noise of shock and frustration leaves you as your eyes narrow. He cracks a smile, highlighting that scar on his lip. He then tugs you off the counter by your hips. You nearly topple over, but he stabilizes you and walks you to the wall with the door, perpendicular to the mirror. He shoves you against the hard surface, engulfing your body with his own.

He’s breathing against the side of your head, rutting his hips into yours and letting you feel his hardened bulge. You could already tell it was big. One set of fingers holds your head against the wall while the other maintains a bruising grip on your waist.

“Acting pretty fuckin’ needy for someone who didn’t want it,” he grunts.

You catch your own eyes in the mirror and the image before you only has you getting more turned on. He’s all over you, grinding his hips and teasing himself with your flesh. His cheeks are stained with a light pink tint from the combination of desire and exertion. He reaches up and runs a hand through his hair, pushing the inky black locks out of his eyes. That same hand then ventures South.

He pushes up your skirt over the swell of your ass, bunching it near the small of your back. After a second of admiration, he pulls his cock out. At your current angle, you don’t get a clear view, but from what you do see of how his fist is wrapped around it, you know your expectations are correct.

He taps it against your ass teasingly, and you feel the weight of it. It’s heavy and warm, leaking a bit from the swollen tip. He slides it down and slips it between your thighs. It rubs against your slick folds. You’re already mentally preparing yourself for the stretch, but you still push your hips back at him because you crave it.

“That’s right. You’re learning already. Smarter than you look,” he teases before nudging the tip inside you and inching deeper.

Your guttural moan echoes through the bathroom as you accommodate his size. You feel him pulsing against every part of your insides. You sink further against the tiles on the wall. The bright gleam on them from the red neon lights fades as your eyes droop with lust. You try to say something, but you can’t get any words out.

And cocky as he is, he’s not faring much better. He groans and buries his face in the crook of your neck. His ragged breaths hit your skin that’s shining with more sweat. He watches your arms stretch out more against the wall, and his trail behind. His fingers chase yours and intertwine, flattening you against the surface.

“So fuckin’ tight,” he mumbles against your skin.

When he bottoms out in you, you’re sure you feel him in your stomach, deeper than anyone before had made it. He takes a second to take in before starting to thrust. His skin smacks against yours in a slow rhythm at first. Your eyes roll back at the motions, and your cunt clamps down on him, trying to keep him all the way in, to keep yourself nice and full. He growls as he feels it and sinks his teeth into the flesh of your throat. He bites, not hard enough to draw blood, but enough to create an ache, a complement to the satisfaction you felt in your belly.

You yelp at the sudden feeling. It hurt, but you wanted more. It wasn’t good enough right now, too dull. You wanted it to hurt, to feel as prominent as everything else going on felt. The music in the main part of the club still raged on, vibrating throughout the entire building, including the wall you were trapped against. The bass thrummed against your cheek and made your head fog up even faster.

He hums with pleasure at your responses, enjoying the way you slowly unraveled for him. He bites a bit harder before loosening up completely. The marks now forming on your skin drive him wild. He knows they’ll last for days. You’ll feel ‘em in the shower, while you’re getting dressed, when you’re shifting around in bed at night. They’ll last much longer after he pulls out and both of you have left this sketchy bathroom.

Once he’s away from your neck, his eyes lock in on yours, but they’re not making contact. He’s enraptured by the way your gaze remains on the mirror to the side of you. He stares down at you, as if studying your thoughts just from the look in your eyes.

“You got a thing for watching, little brat? You like watching yourself get used?” he pants, “I know I like it.”

That snaps you out of your daze. You glance back at him with something akin to shyness behind your eyes. He’d describe it as cute if the two of you weren’t in a situation that was anything but at the moment.

“It’s alright, keep watching. Watch me fill this tight pussy better than anyone else ever could,” he grunts.

All you can do to reply is whine and whimper, squirming against the wall. And he laughs at you.

“Yeah?” he mocks, “That all you have to say?”

He hooks his index finger in your mouth and pulls at your cheek, shifting your face to a more erotic expression. Any words you got out now would be garbled for sure. His hips continue clapping against your ass, jolting you forward with each stroke. Drool drips down your chin from how your mouth is pulled open. You don’t bother with trying to speak anymore. You just give in to how good he’s fucking you.

“Pretty baby. Such a slut for me,” he murmurs. 

Your eyes meet his in the mirror. It’s one of the most intense stares you’ve ever felt, like he’s reaching into your soul, rooting part of himself there. He’s gonna be with you long after this ends and you know it. You moan for him, letting all your sounds of euphoria flood the bathroom. He grins and pistons himself into you harder.

“Driving me crazy, dollface. Look at you, all fucked out, whining cause you don’t even know what to say. Don’t even know my fuckin’ name,” he says.

That really gets you cause he’s right, and you know it. And it should make you feel icky. Should make you want to recoil in disgust. But it does the opposite. You feel like your bodies are melting together, becoming one in your haze of passion.

You turn your head to face the other way, not wanting to confront the insatiable desire you felt. He moves in closer and keeps you pinned against that wall. He’s fucking you just how you like, and you don’t think you’re gonna last much longer. He’s not sure he will either with the way you’re pulsing around him.

“Harder,” you whimper, wanting to actually make it to the peak this time, “Want you deeper.”

“Knew you’d be begging for it,” he says. He gives you what you want though, pumping harder and driving himself even deeper. “You don’t need to know my name. All you care about is that I’m giving this pussy what she needs.”

You’re both climbing to the high point, caught up in your lust for each other. You almost don’t notice the door starting to open, a sliver of the world breaking the small bubble the two of you had made together.

All you see is a pair of eyes widening. They probably freeze with shock when they register your face squished against the tile, your wanton moans drifting through the small opening to their ears. They don’t get to see any more than that though because the bounty hunter’s large palm lands on the door and shoves it closed.

Your own eyes widen and watch how his bicep flexes. He holds it shut, and you’re pretty sure it’d stay that way even if the person tried to open it for another look.

“Not gonna let anyone interrupt before I get the chance to spill every last drop of my cum inside this cunt,” he mutters.

He’s going as hard as he can now. At least that’s what you choose to believe because you’re certain if he used any more force you’d pass out. His cock rams into all your sweet spots like entering a cheat code to get you to cum.

You claw at the wall pointlessly, there’s nothing to grab onto. But you hit the high nonetheless, cumming all over his cock. You gush around him with your release. It feels like your body goes limp, but he holds you up with no effort. He keeps you up and safely impaled on his dick, using you like a toy as he works himself up to the high.

He cums with a loud groan and makes good on his word to spill inside you. You’d have to get a pill tomorrow. He fucks it deep inside you, holding still for a moment as if to make sure he got it all in you. Only then does he finally slide out. He watches the sticky white liquid ooze out of you. It’s starting to drip down your inner thigh when he tugs your skirt back into place.

Your legs wobble beneath you as he lets you go. He steps away, turning around to put his cock away and fix his appearance slightly. You slump down against the wall, reduced to a curled up heap on the dirty floor of the bathroom, looking up at him like he’s a higher power.

You try to catch your breath, but your body feels like it’s tumbling down a mountain as you come down. Your glossy eyes watch him walk to the counter and fish your phone out of your clutch you’d left there. He checks the time before glancing at himself in the mirror. He then turns to you.

Crouching down to your level, he reaches out and strokes your cheek. He pushes some of your hair out of your face to meet your eyes.

“Probably best if you stay in here for a while. Don’t want you getting caught in the crossfire. I might wanna do this again sometime,” he tells you.

With that, he rises to his feet again and exits the bathroom as quickly as he’d entered. You’re still grappling with the events that took place. You barely even register the shots and the screaming coming from the main area of the club.

About fifteen minutes later, you manage to get to your feet. You pull your panties up again and fix yourself up as best you can. Then you leave the bathroom. The music is still blaring, but it feels quiet. There’s no one else inside; spare the dead body on the stairs leading up to the private rooms.

Bright sirens wail outside and lights begin painting your skin as you walk to the glass doors labeled ‘exit.’ Your shoes trudge through some blood on the floor and crunch on shards of broken glass. You step outside, dodging people’s questions about your wellbeing and avoiding other groups of people crying their eyes out. All of it feels surreal. None of it really has your focus. 

All you’re thinking about is how you could see him again.

[orphicmeliora]

"Kidnap me," you say, as if it's the most natural thing to ask of someone. Anyone else would've given you the side eye and left the moment the words left your lips. "It'd give me the much needed rest I require."

But Sylus only raised an eyebrow, quite used to your straight-forwardness by now. Even though you sit with your back to him, you know because of the mirror placed strategically so that he would be visible but you would be obscured. He seated himself on the chair beside the windowsill through which he'd broken into your bedroom. You frowned, how exactly does he manage to unlatch every lock there, you'd never understand. "What's the occasion?"

You don't know what to tell him because there was no simple way to put it. The ache in your heart felt like it had turned into a virus, infecting every single cell in your body. It had made a home for itself in the marrow of your bones and nerves in your brain. A weight so heavy placed on your shoulders like a scale, it was only a matter of which one would tip first and send you careening into an abyss so dark, so steep and you'd fall and fall and fall until—until—

(—there was nothing but a void and silence around you, profound and loud, and then maybe there would be peace. Maybe the fall would split your spine and crack your skull and maybe then you could rest.)

But you couldn't tell anyone of what goes on in your head during the darkest hours of the night even if you tried.

So you tell him this instead:

"I let him die."

Sylus barely blinks. Maybe he already knows what happened, what with all the eyes he has watching you. How much does he already know?

"Do you understand what I'm saying, Sylus?" You finally turn to face him, tired of scrutinizing his expressions from the mirror. And Sylus looks at you, absorbing every detail of your features.

At first glance, nothing appeared out of the ordinary but there was something odd, something missing.

The light in your eyes had disappeared but you were smiling and not the pretty kind. Your smiles were always radiant and sweet, you never knew how to fake one, so you only smiled when you truly felt happy. Right now, it was neither radiant nor fake, where your lips would twitch every two seconds.

You stand up and inch closer toward him, another oddity. It was him who erased the distance between the two of you, you'd never dared. Sylus had always chalked it up to you being afraid—not of him—but yourself and the events that would follow.

It seems the fear has eluded you tonight.

You gripped the back of his chair with one hand and the armrest with the other. Then you bring your face close to his—in other circumstances, he'd be quite content with this development but not like this, not with that dead look in your red-rimmed eyes.

"I. Let. Him. Die." You repeat. "Don't think I wouldn't do the same to you."

Sylus fixed his intense gaze at you. This face that he'd dreamed of for so long even before he'd met you, had never looked more foreign. He hated that. The uncertainty. It made him anxious.

So he bared his teeth, unwilling to show even a moment of weakness. "I wouldn't expect anything less."

[ja3yun]

who do you think in enha would love to receive a buodoir album of their girl as a birthday gift?

!warning nsfw (mdni)!

i think jay would love it the most. he always adores to see his girl dress up in pretty clothes and he'd like it even more when they're dressed down. you would do it after he bought you a pretty set of lingerie for your birthday, so now for his you're putting your present to good use. you would have a setting that was clean and elegant, white sheets with a sheer robe to start with, posing in all his favourite positions he liked to fuck you in. you wouldn't go bare naked but elude to it because jay likes that the best, when you tease him just enough to make him want you.

when you give him it on his day once everyone has left the dinner party you arranged for him, you'll leave him alone to flick through it while you put on the lingerie and robe once again, waiting until he flicks the last page before sleeking your way into the bedroom, taking the book from his hands and throwing it to the side.

"how is it? your present?"

his eyes trail up your body lustfully, taking in the beautiful sight before him as his hands grip your hips and force you onto his lap. "i love it, baby. i love it so much. you're fucking sweet to me." your nipples stand at his words and he cant help but latch on, biting them through the lace bra and his tongue swirling gently.

he would roll his eyes as you giggle, his cock throbbing in his pants at the sound. you know he loves you but you will never understand how much he craves you, worships you in every way. he will cherish the book and look at it on days you're away or simply because he loves you so much and he is so happy that you trust him to own something like this.

rest under the cut

_____

heeseung would adore that you thought of doing the shoot specifically for his birthday. he knows that people do this for their partners but considering you're quite shy, he never imagined you would strip down to nothing. sure, maybe a nightie or something sheer but never fully laid bare. you would sit nervously next to him as he looked at it, judging his expressions as he turned the pages and viewed the one of you arching your back, legs long and hair fanned out, he would shut it over abruptly, making you worry. but that worry soon turns into shock as he grips your shoulders and pushes you down onto the bed

"fuck, baby girl, you have no idea how much i need you right now." he would whisper into your mouth as he kissed you, grinding his hardening cock onto your core, "i want to put you in all of those positions...would you let me?"

he sucks on your neck and bites down, causing your back to arch just like the photo. he's smirking as he marks you up, his hands trailing your sides before dipping into your heat.

"i'm gonna make you cum for each photo in that book."

-----

jake would come with you, asking you to do it for him. he had a particular lingerie set in mind, the one you wore for your anniversary and he hasn't seen you in it since, so what better way to get it some sunlight? his puppy eyes did wonders for convincing you, not that it took much, you'd do anything for him. jake is the kind of man to worship your body no matter size or shape so you have never felt uncomfortable in your body around him.

however, what he didn't realise is that partners don't get to watch the shoot but are sent away while it happens. he pouts, hoping to help you with poses and angles, he even brought a change of lingerie for you to mix it up a little. you're also sad because its his birthday and you wont be spending the entire day with him like you promised, but it just means you'll work extra hard to produce the best pictures for him.

he'll hug you goodbye, nuzzling his nose into your neck, peppering kisses softly, "thank you for doing this, princess."

nodding, you kiss him gently on the lips, stroking his cheek, "i'll even throw in a few surprises."

and those few surprises are naked shots, tits up with your arms losely drapped over your head, your eyes shut. as soon as he saw that picture, he whisked you back home, tying your arms above your head and telling you to keep still as he eats you out, his tounge lapping you up eagerly, that beautiful nose of his nudging your clit each time he burried his face into you. the photoshoot was everything he asked for but having you wriggling under him is even better.

-----

for sunghoon, i think he wouldn't want anyone to see your body other than him, female photographer or not. so instead of you going to a studio, he set one up in your bedroom, hired lighting and used his own camera to take the pictures. he left the setting up to you, to add the element of surprise you wanted to gift him for his birthday.

"take the robe off for me, babe, face the wall." he would take his job seriously because you really wanted to do this. he had an air of professionalism about him that was akin to jack drawing rose.

you look so beautiful though, that he cant keep his hands to himself, helping you unclasp your bra, reaching around to squeeze your tits playfully, kissing down your neck as he presses his chest to your back. "how about we take some behind the scenes pictures?" he would whisper seductively.

and who are you to deny him? you lay down on your bed, legs spread as he grabs the camera, snapping a few pictures before slippinging his cock from his trousers, knowing that pictures aren't enough, he needs to fuck you so good that the faces you make are the real shots that make the book. he pounds into you though, forgeting the camera and giving you the attention you deserve, even if it is his birthday.

[reverieblondie]

Taste so Sweet

Pairing: Rolan x Fem!Tav Reader

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Fluff and Smut with Plot, Oral (fem receiving), Cum eating, Horn pulling, Spit kink, Eludes to addiction, Unprotected Penetrative Sex (Please wrap before you tap) and Biting.

Summary: After a passionate make out session you find you just can't stop thinking of Rolan, and how sweet he taste.

A/N: So I have had this on the back burner for months! and though it is not for everyone I really enjoyed writing it and hope people find it as hot as I do. Enjoy!

Word count: 6,377

Maybe it was the final straw that caused this? Or maybe it was that tightening in your chest you feel when you stand near him. Everything seems to draw you in closer to him, from his refreshing musk to his voice with that accented lisp that slips when he relaxes and those golden eyes that glitter like distant stars. Perhaps, and more accurately, it was the classic case of liquor encouragement that often turns people to slip their truths. Though you had hidden the truth of your deep desires in your sultry lie…

“Just one kiss…friends can kiss when it comes to the swings of celebration…” you cooed to him with your wine-stained lips. 

His keen eyes study you…he knows you are feeling tipsy, but so is he…Your eyes stay on his lips as he drinks from his goblet in contemplation; the drink left on his lips quickly licked away from the sharp points of his forked tongue. One of his infernal traits you were never privy to before your time as the Gates savior. Through sheer luck, both your lives still managed to always be intertwined, leading to your friendship blooming further. Rolan’s eyes are slightly cloudy but still that brilliant hue of gold you could make out even in the greatest depths of darkness. 

“Just one kiss, huh? You sure about that, Tav?” - Gods… does his voice get richer by the day? Is it the drink, or has he always been this alluring and downright cocky? 

You place your hand on his knee, feeling the heat that radiates from underneath the cloth of his pants. Your smile is all desire, and your taunts, “Well, unless you beg me for more…” 

Rolan’s smile widens before he looks over his shoulder to see Lia dancing with Karlach and Shadowheart while Cal plays with the braids in Lae’zels hair as she speaks of her last adventure. Rolan turns back to you, his hand coming over yours. He tries to mask his grin but fails horribly. 

“Well, let’s find somewhere more…private perhaps…” 

It’s then you tug his hand, having him follow your swaying trail, as you two make your way to a dark closet located in the back of the tavern…

You practically push him into the isolated room and shut the door behind you; Rolan manages a laugh before he grabs your face and pulls you closer to crash into his soft lips. Rolan guides your body to press against his, and you can’t help but gasp at the seer heat of him; every part feels so good, and his body is so warm. His knee slips between your legs, and he gathers a fist full of your hair in his clawed hands, nothing to hurt but just to feel the want burning through him. While he’s casually adjusting you to straddle his knee, a stray thought crosses your mind, he’s…good at this?

Then his other hand drops down to your hip, and he starts leading you to a slow grind on his knee that makes you gasp from the friction to your wet sex. He’s really good at this? Rolan chuckles slightly before swiping his tongue over your smooth lips. Slipping his tongue through so you finally get a taste of him, your toes curl, and your hands cling to his robes tighter. The sweetest taste you have ever had sends sparks over your taste buds, his tongue expertly gliding over yours to make you feel every motion of him. It tastes so sweet, and you feel your body heat rise, and your nipples perk the more you drink him in. Your body yearns; nothing else matters to you now other than him: to feel, taste, and want him. Your chest starts to burn from the lack of air, but your panties get wetter with your arousal as you grind yourself on him. Feeling his chest vibrate with a groan the more you slowly roll yourself on his leg. 

Rolans forked tongue slips out of your swollen lips, and you whine at the loss. You hear Rolan laugh at you, but you’re too lost in your panting for breath and neediness for more. What’s happening? You have never felt this need for someone else before, but your mind is filled with Rolan and the need to taste him, your need to feel him, to fuck him. This desire burning in you outweighs your need to breathe in your mind; you’re drunk off of him. Through a sliver of light escaping from the closed door cracks, you see a glimmering trail of his saliva connecting your lips to him; it’s too irresistible to resist as you chase to lick more. Your lips crash against his hungrier this time, and Rolan is more than willing to oblige. Bodys melting together, and you’re feeling a sheen of sweat starting to cover your body; you’re hot and needy, and need him now is all your brain can focus on. Rolan leans into you more and pushes you against the wall, your head hitting one of the closet shelves, but you can’t care right now as you feel his forked tongue rubbing against yours, your moans slipping out along with his. His hands find your breast as you find his belt.

“Can…may I?” he asks between breaths, and you’re already a slew of yeses as you’re undoing his pants.   

Rolan doesn’t miss a beat as he’s undoing your shirt as you’re desperate to release his cock. Every part of your body is uncomfortable in your clothes as your cunt aches for him; it’s practically painful how swollen your clit is. You need him fucking you now!  In a cry, you’re trying to get your pants down to feel his fingers, cock, tail, anything! Looking down, you see his arm moving as he pumps his cock for you, fuck, it’s happening! You’re practically in tears from the overwhelming want, and you moan for him, letting him lick and suck against your neck. 

“Rolan?! Has anyone seen Rolan?” -no…

Rolan pauses and groans, lifting his head towards the closed door, “Zurgan… They have the worst timing…” -no, no, no!

Rolan steps back from you and starts helping your reput on yours and his clothes as he adjusts himself back into his pants. “I guess we got a little caught up… but if I don’t get out there, they will start tearing this place apart.” 

Your body is burning, and your stomach feels like it’s sinking. You don’t want him to go…you want him to stay… Rolan turns back to you and presses his forehead to yours, his hand on your cheek. God, his skin touching yours feels so good. Why does it feel so good? 

Roaln leans down and gives you a quick kiss on your lips, “If you… want to try again… or… you know where to find me.” 

With that, Rolan gives you a kind smile and leaves the closet; you hear muffled sounds that might be him grumbling at his siblings… but all you can think about is that sweet taste on your tongue… and how you’re already craving more…

“I knew you would come back…so needy, aren’t you…”

“So needy…” the words come out of your mouth before you can even stop it. What’s happened to you? You feel consumed…

Rolan lifts your legs further up towards your head; the stretch makes you moan before you can stop yourself. Rolan smiles down at you, his golden eyes glimmering like before, and then you feel your mouth start to water as you look at his tongue sliding over his lip…

Rolan’s cock teases your slit, the hot tip tracing over you slowly, leaving his pre cum drooling on you, the feeling of its stickiness making your back arch. You can’t help how your mouth hangs open, your tongue lolling out, begging to taste him again. Rolan’s lips curl into a smirk, 

“You’re addicted, aren’t you? Do you want it? Are you ready?” -fuck yes, you want it! You burn for it!

You can’t bring yourself to say yes, so you nod frantically, slightly whimpering in the process, your hips buckling against his cock, feeling the ridges tease against your soft folds. Rolan can’t keep you in anticipation any longer, so with a roll of his tongue and his lips pressed in a tight seam, he gathers his saliva before leaning down and dropping the wad into your eager mouth. Your tongue catches it, and you let it sit against your tongue for a moment while the sweetness coats your taste buds. Fuck, it’s what you have been craving…

Finally, you swallow and reveal your now empty mouth to him, your nipples harder now, your body sweating, your pussy wetter and quivering with an insatiable need. 

Rolan smiles down at you, “Good girl…” 

He purrs, as his cock ruts faster against you, “Do you feel no shame? Getting off on my spit? So naughty…” 

You’re not sure if it really is his spit or his taunting words, but you’re needing it, burning for it…

“Rolan… Pl- Please…” 

Rolan caresses your cheek, “I know… I know…” 

As he is coming down to you, he starts to slip in the tip very slowly… the feeling of the stretch makes your whole body curl, and Rolan still pours honeyed words into your ear as he sinks deeper…. Though his words get hazier, and your mouth gets thirstier. It’s like you have gone days without water, and as you look up at his concentrated eyes, freckled cheeks, and slightly parted lips, you know that drinking him in is the only way you will ever be satisfied… Your… craving him and his addictive sweet taste….

In a flash, you’re sitting up straight with a groan, your body is in a cold sweat, your throat dry, and your tongue needy. -shit. 

It’s been days of this madness… since you and Rolan had your hot and heavy makeout session, and two things have happened since that day.  You have a wild craving for sweets, having restless, sweat-inducing dreams that have been soaking your sheets, and your thoughts have been filled with him. Part of you wonders if that wizard put a hex on you or…if you’re in love…

With your head in your hands, you roll yourself out of bed and walk over to your nightstand where the jar of candy you bought waits; you had thought that you just needed some sweets, but no matter how much you’re eating, you can’t get this craving, this inch out of you. But it’s not like you can say anything or ask anyone about this new development! Especially Rolan, Rolan is a busy man… with lots of responsibility. You can’t be bothering him with your girlish fantasy of him or humiliate yourself by asking if he did something… not that he would have? Rolans is not the type, but then why? Why the hell does he taste so sweet? And why can’t you stop thinking about it?!

Whatever, you can’t focus on this now. You have to meet up with Lae’zel, Karlach, Wyll, and Astarion for tonight’s job, and you know better than to keep your companions waiting…  

Everything has gone off mainly without a hitch; your cravings are still driving you mad and proving even while you are fighting to still be in your thoughts. During your fight, you find yourself more hot-blooded and restless to get your opponent down and broken; you’re unsure if the craving is to blame… but with how restless and irritated you have been, you wouldn’t doubt it. Now, here you sit by the fire surrounded by your companions, still trying to relax… but you’re finding it impossible! Your body is fidgeting, your blood boiling as you suck and roll your tongue on the hard candy like a vise like it’s finally going to help you get over this craving for that haughty wizard.

Astarion must sense your distress because before you know it, he is sliding up to your side with an insolent smirk, “Evening, love. Is everything alright? You seem… shaky?” 

You roll your eyes and bounce your foot, trying to ignore his question. Karlach is next to go to your aid, though where Astarion is taunting you, having his own ideas about what is driving you mad, Karlach is actually full of concern. 

“I have noticed that too, Tav; you seem out? Soldier, is something going on?” 

You wave your hand, trying to brush them off. “Nothing, nothing. I just… haven’t been able to rest well like I have wanted… but hopefully, I will get over it soon…”

Wyll chimes in next with sympathetic eyes, “What seems to be the issue? Bad dreams?” 

You grimace… more like wet ones…. You look up to your friends, who are anxiously awaiting your response. What could you even say?

“I, it’s complicated… I don’t even fully understand it myself.”

“Well, why not pull the ears of your friends? No matter what it is, we will try to understand and try to help you in any way we can!” Oh, well… always so optimistic…

You look to your companions whose eager faces look at you bathed in the golden fire light… you have known them for a while now and have been through a life-or-death scenario together… why not tell them about your plaguing horny thoughts… okay maybe not everything, but definitely not the full detail.  

“Well, have you ever… craved something?” They all look at each other, confused. 

Astrion laughs, “Cravings? And what is that supposed to mean? You’re hungry? I can’t say I haven’t had a desperate craving before… but what are you craving exactly?” 

Rolans forked tongue in your mouth, sliding against yours while his nails tear your clothes open, devouring you, body and soul… oh Gods…

“Uhhhh… just… something sweet…”

Lae’zel tsk, finally contributing to the conversation, “This is stupid; just eat something sweet.” 

“That… hasn’t been working. It’s a specific sweet…” As you think about it, you feel your mouth filling with saliva that you’re quick to swallow back down. If they knew…. If anyone did… 

Karlach tilts her head, “Like from a shop? Can’t you go and buy it?” 

The image of you giving Rolan a piece of gold to spit in your mouth fills your mind, and you shrivel into yourself. Why are you thinking like this! 

“No! I…. this is so embarrassing…” 

Astarion and Karlach look at each other and smile. “What are you craving, Tav?” they say in unison…

“I think it’s more… who are you craving Tav…” Lae’zel cuts in with a rare smile of her own. 

Wyll gasped, and the other two bounced excitedly at the accusation, and you? You are visibly sweating bullets… but you can’t deny it much longer… 

“Is that even possible to… crave someone? Their taste? Their smell?” your thighs tighten at the thought of Rolan sandalwood and paper sent with the lights hint of musk… fuck you want to drown in it… “their touch?” you say with a shiver…

You look up at the four pairs of eyes, looking at you intently with slight blushes on their faces. With a smirk, Astarion waves his hand toward you. “No, no, don’t pause… please continue, darling…” Astarion teases. 

You throw your head in your hands, ‘I can’t believe I’m confessing to this… I just don’t know what to do? The hunger is getting worse! The dreams are getting more real…” 

Karlach leans in, “Ohhh, there’s dreams? Tell us more…” 

You shake your head in disapproval, “No, I’m already embarrassed; you don’t need to know more…” 

Wyll says, “This might be off limits, but… who is it? Maybe if we knew we could give you some advice? A plan!”

They all agree in unison. Part of you wants to tell them it’s Rolan, but… though you don’t mind the teasing, you’re unsure if Rolan could handle it… and you don’t want to put him on the spot. Gods knows, as soon as Karlach and Wyll find out it’s Rolan, they will be planning your spring wedding… 

“I…-” 

“I know who it is…” lae’zel says casually, catching everyone by surprise. 

You look at her with wide eyes… every perspective… of course, she would have found out…or maybe she saw you two? 

Karlach, supposedly catching your inner turmoil, places a reassuring hand on your shoulder, “You don’t have to tell us who if you’re not ready, but I think that whoever this is has done a number on you,” 

Astarion chimes in, “This is true. You have been sucking on those sweets like your life depends on it. If this person is so delicious, I think you go and get yourself another taste…” 

Karlach agrees, “Maybe you will find they have been craving you just as much!” 

Wyll adds, “It could be romantic, confessing your want, getting vulnerable to them. And if they don’t reciprocate for some reason, we can all go out and find you something way more satisfying.” Wyll gives you a wink, making you laugh. 

Then your eyes go to Lae’zel, who is just looking at you with a smirk. You give her a look, and he just laughs, “I don’t think she needs to worry about unreciprocated affections… though… I could be wrong….” 

Uhhggg, lae’zel has been with Cal too much; she is picking up on his teasing… 

It’s funny how desire can so easily cloud the mind. Now, here you are… going against your better judgment and giving in to the temptation to at least see him again. Part of you thought that seeing him would ease the carving..... but you knew deep down that it wouldn’t, so the torture continues.

Rolan hasn’t noticed you walk in, or if he has, he’s too involved in his work to look up from his sales book to greet you. Not that he has to; despite how much you enjoy looking into his brilliant eyes, there is something about. watching him in his own little world, however. Seeing him so concentrated, writing diligently with what you are sure is immaculate handwriting. In his focused state, you observe that he has a habit of chewing the inside of his cheek, forcing his lips to perk as his mind is elsewhere.

As you watch, familiar feelings boil forth, and so do familiar cravings....

The urge to go and just touch him, to feel his warmth again. You want to grab him from behind and, bury your head in between his shoulder blades and breathe in as much of him as you can, letting your senses be overflowed with him. You want to hear his nervous laugh, feel him hold you back, and feel his breath against your skin..... To watch his tongue move as he talks…

A rush of heat grips your body, causing you to pause and shiver in want. Tingling rushes through your skin, and your saliva starts to pool, the desire..... the craving... the addiction. Perhaps coming here won’t dull your hunger but worsen it…

Quickly, you retrieve a piece of candy from your pocket to dull it—just chew and leave. As you head for the exit, you can’t help the part of you that needs another look. Turning, you see Rolan taking a drink. As he lowers his cup, a small droplet of liquid lingers on his lips, quickly licked away by the tips of his forked tongue…That tongue... his taste. You want him. No, you need him!

Your body is reacting before your mind can fully process. You’re walking towards him. When you’re finally noticed, Rolan seems surprised to see you, but the smile starting

to form on his lips is unmistakable. However, as soon as you grab a handful of his robes and drag him off, his smile falls into furrowed confusion as he tries to ask what you’re doing. Rolans. Words, however, fall on deaf ears because the only thing you can hear is the sound of your racing heart....

With Rolan in a firm grasp, you drag him up the staircase and through the portal, the need to be alone with him completely overtaking your mind. Once you two are alone in the tower, you finally let go of Rolan’s clothes. Rolan looks at you as if you’ve lost your mind... you feel as if you truly have. Rolan studies you briefly before his confusion hits an irritating peak, “What’s wrong.. Why are you-”

“What did you do to me !?”

Rolan’s head jerks back from your louder, more cutting question.

“What? Excuse me! I haven’t done anything?”

Even When he’s irritated, he’s irresistible! You just want to grab him and kiss him, but now you two are on the verge of another argument; it feels like back when you were on the road running into him over and over ... Can you be honest? Can you tell him that you genuinely don’t want to fight but want to be wrapped in his arms? Not only do you crave for his taste you crave to feel affection from him?

Rolan steps closer, studying you, his golden, ardent eyes tracing over your fevered body. You know you must look like a wreck right now, but it can’t be helped. You want to just collide into his embrace and  tremble within his arms, 

“What’s going on? Why are you dragging me from the shop and throwing accusations at me!”

What can you even say? I think you put some crazy spell on me to make me crazy for you? Now that you think about it more, Rolan wouldn’t do that… is this just your feelings coming to fruition after finally getting to kiss him? AHH! The uncertainty is driving you mad! You suck on the candy more to help, but it’s not working…

Your eyes are locked with his lips, and you know it’s time to just confess, “I’m…. Craving you… my mind has been consumed with thoughts of you. I don’t know if this is a spell or a curse, but… I can’t get the thought of your taste out of my mind… my thoughts that have stirred with you have become more potent… more lustful. I have a desire for you that not even the sweetest of candies can satiate…” 

You look back up from your speech to see Rolan’s eyes now as wide. 

“Craving me… what have you been craving exactly?”

You bite your lip, “Your tongue… dripping spit into my mouth… while you rut into me…” 

As soon as you say it, you feel your whole body catch on fire; at least, that’s how it feels. You’re so embarrassed and can’t believe you just admitted it! Turning to hide your shame, you feel yourself wanting to run, but two arms wrap around you before you can take the first step.

The warmth… the feel of his body… his smell… Rolan…

 You fight the urge to lean into him… but fail. 

Rolan’s lips come to your ear, “I am so sorry… but then again, if I’m being honest, I’m also not…” 

You’re confused by his comment, “Wha-“

“My infernal heritage… is related to incubus… so it doesn’t happen often, but… if I really like  someone… my saliva… turns into an aphrodisiac… usually the effects are not so potent, but… the more you like me in turn,… the more the want lingers…” 

Rolan pulls you against him closer, his voice whispered and laced with seduction, “You must really want me, Tav…”

You’re trying to muster up any kind of words, but nothing seems right… You do want him… so much it’s consuming you! A hummed yes is all you can muster as your face flushes further. Rolan, pleased by your bashful hum, gently turns to you; his long fingers caress your jaw and tilt it so you’re forced to be further entranced by him. Gods… you just want to  

“You have to ask me.” 

It’s not rare for Rolan to have a slight smirk and a cocky attitude… but his confidence right now is… making you hot.

Rolan leans into you further, “Ask me to help you… to kiss you… to take you…” Rolan’s grin shows his sharp teeth off, making your insides scream. “You didn’t get this clammed up at the tavern… you nervous?” 

More impatient. 

“Rolan, help me in every way you can.” 

“By?” his breath fans over your lips, so mouth-watering close as you faintly taste his breath.

“Kissing me, t-taking me…till this burning ache subsides… then, do it all over again and again.” 

Rolan laughs, “Well, greedy aren’t you?” 

You want to push him and argue back, but you pull him closer by his shirt, “Please, this craving… it’s borderline painful, you ass…” 

Satisfied, Rolan finally eases your ache by pressing his firm lips to yours. As you feel his lips on yours, the blood rushes in your veins, feeling like a rushing wave of a refreshing excited ocean. Feeling your body shiver, Rolan tightens his grip, causing his nails to bite into your soft skin; it only proves to excite you more. Rolan’s nostrils flare as he smells your arousal, ruining your panties, and he can’t hold it back anymore; his own cravings for you are starting to consume him. Rolan parts your decadent lips with his tongue, and you finally get that taste as his tongue softly dances against yours. It’s oh so sweet taste that maddeningly sets your whole body aflame. 

Your tongue eagerly slides against his as you take in as much of his taste as you can. Hands digging into him, a small part of you scared that if you let go, he would disappear, and this would all be another one of your dreams. Roalns lips smile against yours at your clinging parting. He wants to tease you for soft whines, but he eases you with his hand on your cheek. Muttering a quick incantation, you can hardly hear from your buzzing ears, he suddenly snaps his fingers, and a portal appears behind you. You feel the whirling buzz of its magic, but your eyes stay on his. Rolan’s lips find yours again effortlessly, and his large hands rest on your hips as he gently guides you back. You two don’t part from each other until the sensation of you falling back onto a soft mattress startles you. 

Looking around, you see elaborate drapes and long curtains all around the room, paired with the soft glow of candles. Books in tall piles and other immaculate things tell you you’re in his room. You look at him with an excited grin, and that’s when you are met with his golden eyes racking over you as he undoes his collar. Your eyes drink in every inch of his rose-colored skin as he strips down for you. Your eyes trace over the raised arches that decorate his body; as his shirt drops to the floor, you watch as his hands go over his abs to start working the buckle and laces of his pants. Every movement he makes causes your heart to race further. 

Watching your thighs tighten, and your mouth water, Rolan relishes in your want; with a smile showing off his sharp teeth, he nods his head toward you.  

“Strip” 

With a swallow, you nod eagerly and start undoing your shirt as Rolan watches in silent excitement. With your shirt off, you quickly kick off your pants, and before you can roll down your underwear, Rolan’s voice pauses you.

“Spread your legs,” he says cooly, almost casually.

Why is he so good at this? Just like in the Elf Song, what you thought was a nerdy wizard is proving to be way more suave, than you thought…. And you love every moment of it…

All the blood in your body rushes to your face and to your clit; you think you’re already seeing stars, and he hasn’t even touched you yet. Moving your hands away from your underwear, you lounge back on your elbows and spread your legs. Rolan’s pupils as he looks at the wet spot seeping through the thin fabric. He can’t help himself anymore, and in an instant, he is in between your legs, driving his nose into your clothed cunt. His heat on you makes your legs quiver, and a whine rips from your throat as he sniffs and takes you in; then, you feel his tongue, and you let out a scream. 

Rolan’s tongue slides against the cloth, forcing the material to rub against your sensitive skin, making your hips want to roll and grind against him. The teasing is making your blood boil with need, and then pushing you further to the edge, his tongue finds your swollen clit, and he wraps his lips around it and sucks. You tighten your thighs around his head as you chant his name, feeling your slit quiver with need. Though before you can start to beg, you feel Rolan pulling away with your panties between his lips. With a quick movement, Rolan rips your panties off, leaving the delicate material draping from his teeth. The sight and sudden cold air make you moan and spread your legs wider. You’re done waiting. You need him.

Quickly discarding the rest of your underwear, your eyes meet his completely nude for now. Rolans once confident demeanor seems to have slightly faltered as he looks down at you. Painties are gone from his teeth, and he looks at you as if you were a goddess coming down to bless him with unimaginable cardinal pleasure. Rolan drops his underwear down to his ankles. He quickly kicks away before crawling on top of you. 

Rolan lips stay on yours as he slowly runs his hands down your body, sliding his warm hands from the soft mounds of your breast to tracing your sides with his nails, causing your body to arch closer to him. His hand slips to your hips to your thigh, where he carefully brings one of your legs up to spread you wider and wrap around his hips. Your heart races at the feeling of being so exposed and feeling his heat so close to your core. You would beg for him to finally ease your ache by fucking you. If you weren’t so busy with his tongue in your mouth, you’re not willing to stop licking up that addictive taste right from the source.  

Rolan, though, has to break away for a breath, and as you two pant over each other, looking into each other’s blown-out eyes, you can’t help but feel complete bliss. His smile is charming and tender as he leans down to give you a chaste kiss. “Are you sure you want this?” 

You groan in frustration, “Please don’t make me beg!”

Rolan rests his forehead against yours, silencing you.

“No, no begging. I just want to make sure this is more than lust..” 

“I have always liked you…even when we didn’t get along, I have always been ensnared by you. Your kiss just made me need to show you” 

Rolan smiles, and you feel him getting warmer and his cheeks a shade redder, “Good…”   

Rolan against his hips and thanks when you feel his rigged length sliding open your smooth folds. The head alone burns you as it splits you open; as he sinks in deeper, your toes curl further. Rolan does his best to go slow, but the urge to slam into you is wanting to overtake him. But with how your body twitches and your face contorts with every inch of his cock sinking into you. He knows he has to stretch you open slowly, so to help ease you, Rolan licks his thumb before he brings it down to your clit and rolls slow circles. You preen and throw your head back, exposing your neck to him. He eagerly nuzzles into it, leaving kisses and soft bites in his wake. 

Rolan buckles his hips into your fluttering cunt, groaning and growling at how your body sucks and clamps down on his girth in an insatiable need. With another roll of his hips, he sinks down all the way, his warm tip nudging on your g stop so deep it makes your eyes roll and your voice to cry his name in a broken moan. Rolan licks against your neck, his sweet saliva seeming to tingle your skin at the contact. He hums against you, 

“Gods, I’ve been waiting for this, to feel your dripping cunt around me, so soft and greedy for it.”

Rolan rolls his hips, pulling to the tip before forcing back into you in a mind-numbing rush, “All mine…” 

Rolan continues to rut his hips in and out, every ridge catching against your sensitive flesh, feeling exquisite as you can’t help but let out shuddering moans as Rolan’s cock rams against your insides. Your mouth falls open as you stare at Rolan’s lidded eyes, your breath heavy, and your hands desperately clinging to his back as you are fucked on his cock, bouncing up and down on his length at a building pace. 

“Please….” you say breathlessly, making Rolan smile as he approaches your face. 

“Please, what?” he says with a rough roll that makes your legs shake. You can’t find the words. All you can do is loll out your tongue in a whine, hoping Rolan is smart enough to understand. 

Rolan grins at your silent plea, “You sure?”

You whine at the taunt, but you’re addicted. You need it, so you eagerly nod, keeping your mouth open for him. Rolan rolls his hips slower as his eyes watch yours, completely dilated with lust; with a nod of his head, you know he’s ready, and with a parting of his lips, you’re catching his sweet spit and swallowing eagerly, relishing in how it instantly makes your body more sensitive to everything your feeling. Rolan groans as you clamp down on him, and your body grows hotter. He picks up his pace, wrapping his tail tightly around your other leg and pulling you down onto his with every thrust. 

Rolan buries his head into the side of your neck once more, his lips on your sweating neck as his breath is the only thing to cool your body in this heated passion, “fuck…so soft…tight, ah and mine…” 

Rolan’s teeth slide along your skin as he thrusts in tandem with his growls of, “Mine, mine, Mine!”

All you can do is hold on and moan your yeses; you’re his, you have always been his, and you always will be. 

His nails dig into you, and his words slip to that of infernal as he continues to build you to that peak. Your pussy clamps down on him harder, making him whine and furrow his brows as his hips start to lose their rhythm to now reckless abandon. It’s all so hot and consuming, you are completely his, and all you can think of now is the man ramming into you and how his cock is consistently ramming on your sweet spot. Finally, you wrap your legs around his hips and bury your hands into his soft hair, softly pulling as you hold on; it’s enough to bring him to his peak, and as he bites down on your neck, feeling your hot blood against his teeth dripping onto his tongue your screaming his name as you clamp and squirt on his cock. 

Rolan’s nostrils flare at the smell of your sweet release covering his cock and thighs, and he groans into your neck as he continues to rut like a desperate madman. The feeling of his cock on your sensitive skin as you writhing around in overstimulation. But Rolan just growls, and he pins you down in a strength you have never been privy to, And finally, you feel his burning cock twitch. As Rolan stills, you feel his hot cum flooding inside of you, it feels so overwhelming, and your body shakes as the feeling of being so full of him makes every part of you aflame, and you can’t help in relishing in the feeling of wanting him to burn you like this always. 

After a moment, Rolan releases his mouth from your neck in a soft, whispered sorry. You are so fucked out of your mind you can only mutter something along the lines of an “Okay…” 

As Rolan pulls out, you let out a whine as he slips from your used sex. You lean up to give Rolan a smile and perhaps some praise, and as you do, you see Rolan’s luminescent eyes glued to your sex. Rolan watches as his seed drools out; Rolan groans as he takes his thumb and gathers the mixing of both your releases on his digit and brings it to his mouth, licking it up and moaning at the taste. Your breath catches at the sight, and before you can say anything, your legs are spread and hooked over Rolans shoulders. His breath is so desperate as he watches your glistening sex drool. 

You bite your lip and raise your hips closer to his waiting mouth; Rolan moans before his eyes flicking to yours, “It’s all yours…” 

Rolan smiles as he licks a long strip up your sex, gathering the taste on his tongue. It only spurs him on more, and as he keeps eating both your releases from within you, moaning and purring as his tongue slips in and out. You squirm as your second high fastly approaches, but Rolan only responds to your whines by digging his nails into your ass to help you grind on his face as you hold on his horns like a lifeline. 

It all reaches a peak as you’re cumming in a blinding passion, as Rolan drinks and slurps it all from you till there’s nothing left and your voice is raw. Rolan leans back up and licks his lips. 

“I think I’m going to be the one who is addicted to your sweet taste…” 

All you can do is laugh as he comes up, and again so, he’s holding you closely to his chest.

“I think we are just addicted to each other…”  

Rolan smiles as he buries his nose into your hair, holding you even tighter, “I think you’re right.”

[deadtired-highkeyenergetic]

Friends...for now

Summary: Unable to sleep, you slip out of camp for a breath of fresh air and find Astarion struggling to tend to his wounds.

No matter how many times you toss and turn, sleep continues to elude you. Staring up at the ceiling of your tent, you groan in annoyance at the throbbing sting of the wound in your arm and sit up, checking the bandages. The blood hasn’t soaked through the cloth, so the sting is probably from the medicine Halsin applied earlier to accelerate the healing but it doesn’t make the feeling less annoying. It does make you less worried about your wound, however, so you decide to take the chance and slip out of camp into the quiet still night, breathing in the fresh air.

You relish in the peace and quiet, something that had been hard to come by as of late with how rowdy your companions could be but you would never trade them for the world, you enjoyed their company far too much. Among them all, Astarion in particular had caught your eye, his facade of confidence and sensuality a far too familiar mask, hiding the quiet strength that you respected greatly. The vampire spawn was an enigma, ruby red eyes letting on far more than the honeyed words that dripped from his lips. The way his words always managed to make your heart flutter, the silent gestures of gratitude whenever you helped him that made you giddy, it made you feel like a teenager hopelessly in love.

Maybe you were in love with him.

You shake your head, dismissing the thought. What Astarion needed right now was a friend, not a lover. He needed to know that people could care without wanting anything in return, that there could be intimacy in non-sexual acts, and that he could be his own person.

Once your hear is cleared, you head to your favourite spot to get away from the hustle and bustle of the camp, only to find a certain someone already sitting there.

“Oh, hello there darling. Come to see me? I’m touched, really.”

“You’re in my spot,” you snort, making your way over. “How’s your back wound?”

“What back wound?” He smiles.

“The one that’s dripping blood all over my favourite spot?”

“Ah, that one. You have to be more specific next time dear. It’ll heal in time, don’t you worry your sweet self.”

“Let me help you with it.” You take the medical supplies hiding behind the rock the both of you are leaning on and start preparing the materials you need. Astarion stares, first at the medical supplies then up at you when he realises its the exact same supplies he haphazardly stashed away upon hearing your approach.

“I don’t need your help,” he hisses. “I can take care of myself.”

“It’s poisoned, you’ll need more than this to get rid of the poison.” You take a couple of herbs out. “Halsin said to ground these into a paste and then apply the paste to the wound before bandaging it.”

Astarion scowls, glaring at the leaves sitting in your open palm. Of course the druid would go around poking his nose into other’s businesses. He tentatively reaches for the leaves, then pulls back when he realises he has no idea how to ground them into paste. You then pull out a mortar and pestel and start grinding the herbs while he watches quietly, observing your every move. Once the herbs have been sufficiently ground, you slide the mortar over to him.

“There, all done. Next time you want to use this spot, just let me know in advance alright? Then I’ll know not to disturb you.” You grin, pushing yourself to your feet. “See you back in camp.”

With that you turn to leave, but his next words stop you in your tracks.

“Wait, Y/N.”

You turn around.

“Could…could you help me treat the wound. I can’t exactly see where it is,” he admits nervously. He’s still uncertain about letting you touch his back like that, but you’ve never meant him any harm, he could let you see him all exposed, right?

“Sure.” You seat yourself next to him and he turns around, the moonlight casting a glow on his scars. This is the first time you’ve been able to properly see them, the markings permanently etched into his pale skin and your own back throbs at the thought of the pain he must have gone through.

“I’m going to wash the wound first then apply the paste, alright?”

He nods wordlessly, biting down on his lip when the pain flares up once more the moment water contacts the wound. You murmur an apology before gently applying the paste on the wound that is quickly turning an ugly green. You feel him flinch as your finger makes contact with his back, a small trembling in his shoulders and pause, unsure if you should continue. You could just leave the wound like this, the paste would work its magic, removing the poison while his vampiric healing took care of what remained. A bandage was more a precaution to ensure the wound didn’t get infected, but if he was going to remain here for the rest of the night he wouldn’t risk an infection.

“Do you want me to continue? I could just leave the wound as it is right now and it’ll heal.” You voice is gentle, soft, not like the rough and grating tone Cazador speaks in.

“Continue. Please.” He whispers the last part but you hear him all the same. A small smile flicks across your face at the trust he’s putting in you and you continue, bandaging the wound neatly. He remains as still as possible while you work, with the occasional flinch when you accidentally pull the cloth a little too tightly but a quick apology soothes everything over and soon you’re done.

“There. All done.” You pack the remaining supplies as he pulls his shirt back on, turning around to face you.

“Thank you.” He inclines his head. You smile in response, “welcome!”

He sits there in silence for a while, unsure of what else to say. He wants to express more than gratitude, to tell you that you’re the first person he’s ever let touch his back, his scars, that he’s been afraid of letting anyone near him, fearing that they will hurt him, that you’re so many of his firsts, and yet words elude him, lost to the night’s breeze.

It’s only when you check on your own wound that he finds something to say.

“Would you like me to kiss it better?”

You laugh, the melody carrying through the crisp night air. “Why thank you for the offer, Astarion, I am rather tempted to accept it but alas, the doubt that kissing it wouldn’t help in the slightest has overtaken the temptation.”

“You wouldn’t know unless you tried, love. What is there to lose?” he smirks, back in familiar territory.

“My dignity perhaps?” You chuckle.

“There’s no one else around, only you and me. No one will know but us, it’ll be our little secret.” He leans in closer and winces at the twinge of pain from his back.

“Don’t strain it,” you frown, concerned. It’s when you look at him with that look in his eyes that his undead heart skips a beat and all he can think about is how much you care for him without wanting anything in return. You lavish both time and energy onto him, far more than the others and yet you’ve never asked a favour of him. He keeps trying to pry your ulterior motive from you but nothing ever gets revealed, meaning you have none, which only makes him even more confused.

“Y/N.”

“Yes?”

“Why do you concern yourself with me so much? What is it you want from me?”

“Hm? What I want from you? Nothing, honest! You’re my friend, it’s only natural I should care for your wellbeing.” Friend, nothing more.

Friend, a foreign word to him. He’s never considered anyone anything more than a tool, a way to protect himself and everyone has done the same to him, using him for their own gains, their own purposes. Yet here you are, shattering everything he’s been used to and showing him something he never once considered. Maybe having a friend wasn’t so bad, it meant he could do things he never could’ve done alone, it meant feeling a little less alone in the whisper of the night. Most of all, it meant he could spend more time with you, listen to your voice, have you all to himself.

“Hmph,” is all he says out loud and the two of you continue to sit in silence, watching as the moon bathes your surroundings in its silvery light.

Friends for now, perhaps something more in the future.

[heian-era-housewife]

I read ur shiu/toji x reader omegaverse fanfic and let me just say THAT SHIT WAS A BANGER!!! I was writing this to see if u could write a gojo and geto x reader omegaverse fanfic, plz!! (Love the writing very sigma)

Thank you so much!!! 💕

That was my first time dipping into the (sometimes very confusing/intricate) but equally fun and interesting omegaverse. I know everyone has their own interpretations, and I'm probably playing a bit fast and loose with the "rules" of the genre, but I'm glad you enjoyed it!

Thanks also for your request! Apologies for the wait. Things have been a bit hectic lately, but I hope I've done the dynamic duo justice.

Synopsis | When Gojo makes an unexpected discovery, he turns to you for advice. Luckily, you know just the person who can help. How will things "heat up" when your mate Geto enters the scene?

Content | mdni 18+, f!reader x gojo x geto, omegaverse, threesome, oral (f receiving), sex (mm/fm), swearing, biting/marking, mention of blood.

A/N | This fic takes place in the dorms of Juju Tech during their latter student days. All characters are 18+

Word Count | 2.7k

When a knock came on your dormroom door in the middle of the night, the last person you expected to see was a sweating, panting Satoru Gojo.

Top of your class and possibly the strongest sorcerer the world had ever known, Gojo was every bit the alpha everyone knew him to be. Though his reputation preceded him, you knew him best as just plain Satoru. Lover of sweets and showing off. Best friend and perfect foil to your boyfriend, Suguru Geto, not to mention the only one who could rival him in both looks and talent. There was only one explanation as to why he'd be here, at your door, a flushed and pitiful mess.

"I told you not to overdo it." You chided, ushering him in. "You know you can't keep up with those guys."

It wasn't the first time you'd seen him sloppy drunk, but you were surprised he'd come to you rather than stay with the rest of the group. Where everyone else had gone out for drinks and karaoke, you had opted for a quiet night at home.

Grabbing a damp cloth, you blotted his sweat-stained brow as he threw himself on your shabby dormroom couch.

"You know, for an alpha you're quite the lightweight." You teased.

"I'm...not." He panted, eyes downcast.

"Okay. Deny it all you want, but I've seen you drink."

"No...I..."

"It's a little sad, really" you chuckled to yourself.

"No!" He snapped, startling you from your ramblings."I'm...I'm not an alpha..." he finished.

You blinked, the cloth you were holding now hovering just above him where you froze in place. A drip landing squarely on his forehead the only movement as you stared, stark still and speechless. He pushed your hand away.

"I'm not an alpha and I'm not drunk." He said matter-of-factly. "I think I'm in heat."

"Satoru, I-"

"That's why I'm here." He continued. "I wanted to know what you do. How you usually deal with it."

"Oh..." You paused awkwardly, hand drifting to the mark on your neck. "Well, Geto and I usually..."

"Before that, I mean. Before you and Geto got together, what did you do?" He urged, frustration building.

"I was lucky." You said softly. "Geto was there for my first heat. I never had to go it alone."

"I see..."

Words eluded you as you stared at your friend. Satoru Gojo, the Satoru Gojo...an omega?

"Who else knows-"

"No one." He cut you off before you could finish. "Not a soul. I didn’t even know for sure until...well until tonight."

You'd heard of these kinds of things happening. A presumed omega presenting later in life as an alpha when they hit their first rut. A supposed alpha suddenly ripe with sweet smelling pheromones and an urge to nest. Though rare, these things did happen. Just not to people you knew. And certainly not to someone like Satoru Gojo. If your head was spinning, you could only imagine how he felt. His ice blue eyes met yours with a pleading look. You chewed the inside of your cheek as you thought.

It's true you had always been spoiled. While others were forced to slump through their partnerless heats, you had Geto from the very start. At the first sign, he would help you with your nests, staying over in your dorm and skipping classes as needed. He had both the empathy and tenderness to talk you through the worst of your discomfort, as well as the strength and stamina to bed you down any which way and as many times as you needed. A proverbial beauty and beast in one perfect package.

And then there was Gojo. Now that you were thinking on it, Gojo had his own way of being there for you too, whether or not he even realized. Always coming by with snacks and movies. His sweatshirts accidentally making their way into your nests whenever he and Geto swapped by mistake. His voice often the last you'd hear before drifting to sleep as the two friends laughed late into the night in the room beside you.

In a way, dating Geto was sort of like having two partners. They came as a package deal. Gojo was a constant presence within your relationship, at times making you wonder if you were the third wheel, not the other way around. And though his swaggering overconfidence and crude humor were in stark contrast to Geto's quiet assurance and even-temper, there was something so alluring, almost necessary, about the opposing qualities that made you yearn for both.

You couldn't believe what you were about to say. Couldn't stop the words from coming, nor the shameful excitement from welling in your chest. Here was something you never thought possible- something you'd only dared to imagine in your silkiest daydreams, unfolding right before you. A chance to make those dreams a reality. A chance to have your cake and eat it too.

"You know...this might sound crazy," you began tentatively, articulating each word as carefully as if it might detonate upon delivery. "We could ask Suguru if he might be willing to-"

"Ask Suguru what now?" Just then the door swung open causing both you and Gojo to jump. Your wide and guilty looking eyes met those of your boyfriend as he strode into the dorm, his look of worry turning to relief then quickly back to worry. "I've been looking all over for you," he tutted at Gojo. "The way you ran off earlier I thought-"

Geto's words hitched in his throat. He was struck by something hauntingly familiar, causing his mind to race and skin to prickle. The intoxicating scent of heat and slick flooded his senses, goading him as if by some invisible force. He looked at you, confusion written across his face. You weren't due for another heat yet. And even if you were, why was Gojo here in the middle of the night instead of him? In fact, why was Gojo here at all? A hailstorm of emotion rained down in dizzying waves as Geto reached desperately for answers through the haze of sickly sweet pheromones.

He looked to his friend, gaze settling over his brilliant hair and porcelain skin, momentarily adrift in the vast sea of those crystal blue eyes. Suddenly feeling inexplicably shy, he glanced downward noticing the gentle part in his lips, the subtle curve of his neck, the supple skin he wished he could just...bite...

"You..." he breathed, realization dawning. "It's you."

Gojo nodded slowly.

More silence. The would-be lovers bound by the chains of forced friendship and repressed feelings.

You cleared your throat. "Suguru, I was just saying maybe-"

"Yes!" He cut you off, connecting the words unspoken. "Yes. Sorry. I mean if...if that's..."

You couldn't help the smile that crept across your face, or the way your hand clasped eagerly around Gojo's, heart racing as he squeezed back.

Geto knelt by the couch, face serious as the next several minutes were spent in earnest discussion.

Fondness and pheromones aside, he wasn't about to jeopardize his relationship with his mate, nor his best friend. As the three of you spoke, mutual attraction, the façade of friendship, and years' worth of unrequitted feelings unveiled themselves between blushing cheeks and downcast eyes. Only after everyone's intentions and desires were made clear, did he allow the fog of infatuation to take its hold.

"Let's get you comfortable, shall we?" Geto said, scooping Gojo's lanky form with ease as he carried him toward the bedroom. You had to stifle a laugh at Gojo's unconvincing protests, pampered grin betraying his utter delight at being carried despite his string of objections. Geto tossed him playfully onto the plush mattress where you were collecting items for a nest that held just as much of your essence as it did Geto's.

Gojo nuzzled in to the scent-laden fabric, the harsh edge of discomfort starting to melt away from his handsome features, but there was still only one thing that could ease the bristling affliction of a standing heat.

You gave Gojo a devious grin, eager to show him something even his six eyes would find awe-inspiring. Slowly you began to help Geto undress.

Gojo moaned, brows knit together as he leaned into Geto's sultry kisses. He'd been stripped down and sat on the edge of the bed, your arms and legs wrapping around from behind him. Reaching around, you gently stroked his pretty two-toned cock while the two men explored each other's trembling lips. His blushing pink tip leaked silky pearls into your hand while you ran your palm over his generous length.

When Gojo's moans turned to pleading whines and his hips began rutting hungrily into your fist, Geto leaned forward, pressing his wet lips to yours over Gojo's shoulder, before he scooped his friend once more, pulling him gently from your grip and helping him wrap his long legs around his cinched waist. Gojo threw his head back, rubbing his length in languid strokes over Geto's rigid abs. The raven-haired sorcerer burried his face in the crook of Gojo's moonlit neck, breathing him in. Together, they rocked, arms wrapped tightly around one another before a drawn-out whimper from Gojo sent his friend into a tantric storm of thrusting that pushed Gojo's back against the room's wooden panelling, one of Geto's hands planted firmly on Gojo's ass, the other plastered flat against the wall beside his head. Twisting kisses drawing gasping breaths from his pounding chest, every thrust sinking Geto's aching cock to the hilt.

Watching your boyfriend fuck the life out of Gojo against your dormroom wall was sending you into a dizzying heat of your own. Slick stained the sheets beneath you as you rubbed your throbbing clit to the beat of their movements. You couldn't help but lose yourself in the beautifully fucked out expression of Gojo who appeared to be reaching his limits.

"Fuckk" he rasped, pausing long enough to pull his hair from his elastic, black tresses falling over sculpted shoulders in a way that made you crave him even more.

"Suguru..." you pleaded, no longer satisfied just being a spectator.

Gojo's feet hit the floor before Geto spun him in place, using a firm hand on the back of his neck to bend him over onto the matress before plunging his greedy cock back into his sweet-smelling slick.

"I'm getting -fuck- I'm getting closer," Geto panted. "He's so fucking tight. Maybe you can t-talk him through it for me."

Snowy bangs, now doused in sweat clung to Gojo's feverish brow. Brushing them gently away, you pressed a cool kiss to his forehead, praising the sorcerer. With his hands in yours, soft words of encouragement fell from your lips, faces low to the dormroom matress, his rocking in time to powerful thrusts.

"You're doing so good, just a little longer." You cooed. Gojo nodded in reply, pink tongue hanging from his open mouth, drawing ragged breaths.

He arched his back into Geto's sharp thrusts, hips lifting from the matress, his leaky tip drawing dewy lines over the bedding as his heavy cock bounced in perfect rythm to the movement.

"I-I need it," he breathed. "This is torture, I need it." Gojo looked desperate- starved.

"I know, baby. He's almost there," you assured him.

"No, hahhh," he moaned, a wild look darkening his radiant gaze. "I need you," he urged. "Want t'taste you."

His words caught you by complete surprise, stunned he could even think straight the way Geto was railing him into your mattress- thrilled that he wanted you as badly as you wanted him.

"Oh fuuu-" he rutted his ass back into a gasping Geto, flashing that feral smile as he dragged you toward him, firm grip on your hips. Geto's eyes widened as he watched Gojo spread your plush thighs, licking his way to the source of your slick.

With each rock forward, Gojo thrust his tongue deeper into your slit, drinking you in. Your squirms fueled his hunger, soft tongue dipping into you over and over, but it wasn't enough. He needed more.

Geto couldn't look away. He stared, hips slowing their movements as he watched Gojo plunge not two, but three long fingers into your sopping cunt- the one Geto would usually be servicing himself. He stopped moving entirely, mouth going dry. In turn, Gojo stopped too, craning his neck to look at the man behind him.

For a moment, Gojo froze, thinking he'd gone too far, fearing his friend may be having second thoughts about sharing his beloved mate. Then, Geto found his voice, heavy thrusts picking up as he spoke.

"Get under him." It was more of an order than a suggestion.

"What?" You said, struck again by the unexpected.

"Get under him. Please." His eyes met yours in desperate yearning. "I need to watch you fuck each other." His eyes rolled back at the thought, while he pumped his cock into the very man he wanted to see you under.

You and Gojo exchanged a look. Hungry. Excited. Aching for one another. You didn't need to be asked again.

You mewled as Gojo stretched you on his impressive length, deep veins dragging deliciously against your gummy walls. You sucked him in eagerly, shameless squelches sounding from the slick that now coated your inner thighs.

How was this happening? How did you get here?

Not long ago you were spending a peaceful evening alone. Now you found yourself staring up at the two most beautiful men you knew, both inside and out, from where you lay underneath their swaying bodies.

Geto stood beside the bed, fingers tight on Gojo's hips, gorgeous bangs falling softly over his flushed face. Each breath from his open mouth sent them fluttering forward before coming to rest again on his inviting lips.

What a sight to behold.

Gojo leaned down to whisper in your ear, cheek resting against yours, a wry smile twisting his lips as he spoke your own words back to you.

"You're doing so good, just a little longer."

"Ngh...I-"

"Shhh..." he hushed your words with an empassioned kiss causing you to clench on his length."Let's -hahh- show Suguru how good we can c-cum for him."

A final smack from his heavy balls was all it took to set you off. Slick poured from your core as you doused him in your pleasure. A thirsty groan was pulled from his chest at the rush of your walls closing in on his girth. Without thinking, Gojo leaned in to the crook of your neck, sinking his teeth savagely over Geto's mark. Heavy loads of hot cum filled you as his groans of pleasure vibrated against your broken skin.

Geto picked up speed. A familiar, wild look in his eyes, blown pupils turning them to lustful pools of inky black.

"Fuckkk!" He growled, hands coming down on either side of your head as he laid his body across Gojo's broad back. You knew what was coming next.

"S-Satoru." You said, stroking his frosted locks. He groaned a reply, still firmly attached to the spot on your neck. "Take my hand."

Your fingers intertwined just in time to see Geto throw himself over Gojo's shoulder, biting down hard on the base of his neck. The two men moaned their rapture as Gojo squeezed the life from your hand. His glossy lips, now tinged with blood, trembled delicately as he whimpered. You knew too well, Geto's knot was substantial.

"That's it, 'Toru." You cooed.

You felt his body tense from the stretch, felt him pulse with each spurt as Geto unloaded. Little pearls of hot seed dripped onto your quivering thighs below. You could only imagine how full poor Gojo must be if there was enough to slide past that soul-splitting knot.

The two collapsed in a shared exhale, your soft praises offering sweet comfort to the weary man between you.

Gojo peered up at you from where his head rested on your chest. "Now what?" He asked, relying on your seasoned know-how.

You parted his flattened hair and smoothed his brow with another assuring kiss. "Now we wait." Geto gave you a knowing smile from over Gojo's shoulder, chin resting on folded hands, nothing but love in his tired eyes.

"Now we wait."

[toxycodone]

Cupid’s Breath (Kabru of Utaya x Beastkin/Monster!Reader)

header cred.

rating. nsfw

content. reader has monster genitalia (vagina + clitdick), sex pollen, hate (kinda) sex (kabru is very conflicted), penetration (both on reader and kabru), no foreplay--just crazy monster sex. Ending is angsty, so...proceed w/caution.

word count. 6k+

summary. You are a beastkin hired to guide Kabru’s party through the dungeon. Despite all the time you’ve spent with the party, its leader, Kabru, continues to elude you. He’s consistently nice and polite, yet you can tell it’s not genuine, causing you more and more discomfort. Why doesn’t he seem to like you? While exploring the end of the fourth floor, you and Kabru are separated from the other party members. Given this time alone, you’re finally able to have a heart to heart with your party leader. However, things get a bit heated—in more ways than one.

There’s a sharp swishing sound in the air as a blade slashes through the undergrowth. The brunette sighs, then wipes sweat off his brow.

“I’ve heard rumors of this place, but I’d never seen it for myself.” Kabru mutters, positioning his sword to swipe at another tangle of vines. He looks angry, but only for a second, before flashing you his usual pretty boy smile. “Thanks to your help, we’ve managed to almost get past the fourth floor.”

The other party members smile too. Theirs are much more legitimate. Rin’s the sole member that keeps her usual scowl, but it softens to a neutral glance for a few seconds. You’ve learned that's her way of smiling.

“No problem. It’s what you hired me for.” You smile softly at the others. When your gaze trails to Kabru–-it instinctually falters. Your keen senses have yet to fail you. There’s something off about him. He smiles, laughs, speaks words of praise…but there's a lack of genuineness behind it. You hold back a shudder. “And don’t just slash at those tentacles like that. You never know how a species will react. You could get poisoned–or worse.”

Kabru’s eyes widen. He looks to the plants, then visibly recoils. Mickbell seems more interested now. You catch him mumbling about how their extract may work on his darts. Thankfully, Holm heeds your warning and guides the curious half-foot away from the plant.

“Thanks. Perhaps I got too hasty.” Kabru chuckles, then rubs the back of his head. You want to grimace when you see the action. It’s akin to an actor you’d witness at the opera. You wonder how many times he’s practiced the motion in his head.

“Let’s continue.” You turn back to the dungeon floor. It’s teaming with more and more vegetation. It seems to be growing at a rapid pace. The dungeon must be getting more unstable. It won’t be long before you’ll have to discontinue these tours for your own safety. But that brings on another pressing matter….

Where will you live?

Someone of your makeup, stature, species–whatever one may call it, is not particularly welcome on the Island. Or anywhere on the surface for that matter. You’re thankful to the orcs that treated you with such hospitality since you first began making a living here. You help adventurers who wish to delve deeper into the dungeon, purposefully showing them longer, more tedious routes that  allow for the orcs to travel and maintain their territory unbothered. With the money you make, you’re able to buy things for yourself from the first floor and bring back useful items for the orcs. In return, they let you stay in their many settlements, allowing you to live peacefully–unbothered by monsters and adventurers alike.

A discussion has been continuing with you and Zon, however. Dungeon crawlers are getting more aggressive and greedy. Despite you preaching the safety and quickness of your routes, they’ve begun cutting through orc territory, now intent on hunting the demihumans specifically. Along with that, the Dungeon Lord appears to be going through something themself, as well. You’ve recently heard confirmation of the Red Dragon appearing on the fifth floor. Something you found hard to believe until shown the carcasses of burnt wargs. You’d have to be careful to avoid that route when you guys pass this floor, maybe–

“Something on your mind?”

A familiar voice cuts through your thoughts. Kabru, curious as ever, is looking at you. His deep blue eyes and friendly smile would charm just about anyone aside from yourself. Your sense of smell keeps you hesitant. He’s not asking purely out of concern for you. It’s most likely to satisfy his own curiosity. You look away.

“No, I just…”

You look back to him. Those same blue eyes, brow quirked in curiosity. Ugh. You regret making eye contact. “You seemed lost in thought. You know, you’re welcome to voice any concerns. I’ll happily listen.”

You catch Holm smiling from the corner of your eye, as if he’s admiring his party leader. Of course, Kabru is playing the good guy again. Seeming as if he’s  wanting to get to know you better, but in reality, there’s something underneath the surface. Kabru’s demeanor gives off the vibe he’s analyzing everything you say, probing each word and implication for a valid reason to assess you as a threat. You’re sure he’d flip if he learned about your alliance with the orcs.

You know better. A smile of your own crosses your face.

“It’s alright. Just planning our route in my head. We’ll be set to descend by the evening.”

Disappointment flashes across the man’s features, but he’s quick not to let it linger.

“Sounds good. Thank you again for your expertise.”

Before much else can happen, Mickbell suddenly halts. Everyone’s quick to follow suit. Your first reaction is the thought that he might have touched a tentacle and gotten paralyzed, but he speaks.

“Do you guys hear that?” Of course the others can’t. Your hearing, however, is the closest to his. You still and pay attention. The sound of rocks scratching against each other in the distance fills your ears, it’s faint, but moving closer. You’ve only ever heard this when the dungeon starts to change.

Oh no.

“A tremor!” You shout. Each fur on your body prickles. “Everyone, stay clo–!”

Before you can finish your sentence, the dungeon floor begins to shift underneath you. You hear frantic footsteps, the clattering of equipment on the ground, before…

You’re falling. It’s a seemingly short distance, but it hurts nonetheless when you hit the ground. You hear something fall closeby–likely your own equipment. A dull ache forms at the base of your skull. Fuck–that hurt.

You lie there for a few seconds, before scrambling to your feet. The walls of the dungeon have appeared to swallow you, separating you from other members of the team. A string of curses leave your mouth. Just your fucking luck. This is gonna add extra time to your venture. And knowing Kabru’s party’s history, you’ll be lucky to find them again alive.

The sound of armor clanging and steps in your direction snap you out of your thoughts.

 “Are you alright?”

That voice. You turn around. Those eyes. That crop of curly black hair. Fuck. It’s him. Of fucking course you had to be stuck with him.

“I’m okay. Just bumped my head a little” You answer, attempting to be polite. “And you?”

“Same here. But otherwise, I’m okay too.” Kabru flashes an awkward smile. You start to smell something odd on him. Fear pheromones. Is he scared to be stuck alone with you? 

“Are you sure?” You’re not sure if it's the head injury or what, but you’re feeling a bit bold. “Because you clearly seem bothered by something.”

Kabru looks confused.

“No, the fall wasn’t that bad. I mean, I think we need to find the others, but–”

“I don’t mean that. You’re nervous.” You state, stepping a bit closer to him. “Are you feeling weird about being stuck alone here with me?”

He looks put on the spot. The usual calm, collected persona he portrays cracks a tad.

“What? No, no…” He’s not a particularly good liar. “It’s the circumstances. We’re on a new floor, just got separated from the rest of the party, it’s just–” 

“I can smell it on you, Kabru. Every time you speak to me, it’s like you’re sizing me up. Trying to see if I’m a threat.” There’s a hint of a growl in your voice. You’re careful not to flash your fangs, he doesn’t need any more evidence to back up his prejudices. “Just be honest. I know you don’t like me.”

Silence fills the air. The way Kabru’s face falls is cinematic. It sends a shiver down your spine.

“I thought I was doing a decent job.” He mutters, clicking his tongue in annoyance. “But it seems I’m not as good as I thought. Of course you’d pick up on it.” 

You figure he’s talking more to himself than you. His cobalt eyes lock onto yours.

“I don’t like monsters.” He says in earnest. “They decimated my village when I was younger. I  seek to understand this dungeons secrets, but I’m not keen on the inhabitants.”

“ I’m a monster.” You retort, tilting your head. “And yet you chose to hire me?”

“My party needs your services. We haven’t been able to make it far without a guide, especially one who specializes in monster information. After encountering another adventurer with this information…I realized how important it was. I wasn’t particularly ecstatic to hire you, but it was a necessity.” 

You scoff. Is he serious? You’ve guided his party through three floors already, even risking your life to ensure their safety. And yet this is still what he thinks of you?

“You realize I’m not some feral beast, right? I have consciousness. Sentience. Morals. I wouldn’t just kill you in cold blood.”

“But you’re still a monster. You’re unpredictable.”

When Kabru says this, he’s honestly not even sure how much he believes it. Despite his history with monsters, you have proven to be quite the ally to his party. Even with all his probing, Kabru’s yet to find any useful evidence you may be a threat to his party. Or his mission. But he has to keep his guard up. He must. He won’t let himself be caught off guard again.

On the other hand, his words make your blood boil. You knew it. All this time, he despised you. Stupid human.

“Fuck this,” You growl, turning in the opposite direction. “I quit. Find your own way out.”

You’re careful to avoid the path full of dungeon vegetation. A usual beginner's mistake. You hope Kabru steps on a tentacle and gets paralyzed. Heh. That would make you feel a little better.

Kabru’s unsure of what to say. For one, you are very useful. You have guided his party further  than they’ve managed on their own. However…he’s felt odd from the start. As someone who trusts his intuition, he wonders if letting you go might be the best option. Gods help him if you decide to turn your back on them at the last minute. He should know better than to trust a monster. 

But you’re not like other monsters. Or are you? The concept still frustrates him. He doesn’t understand you. He honestly wishes he could.

As Kabru walks away, he unsheathes his sword to clear a path. You’re about to walk around the corner, before you notice where he’s heading. The plant in front of him lines the dungeon wall and unfurls into large pink blooms. Wait a minute–that’s not just any dungeon vine. It’s a Cupid’s Breath. You’d seen them around before, but rarely ever in bloom. When threatened, they release a cloud of hallucinogenic pollen to deter predators (but also turn them into potential pollinators themselves). If he disturbs that plant…you’ll both be in trouble!

“Kabru, wai–”

As his sword makes contact with the flower, a pink mist comes rushing out, coating the air in a pink haze. Kabru immediately starts coughing, falling back onto his behind. You curse and rush forward, attempting to drag him out of the mist.

“What did I tell you about swinging your sword at things? You have to be careful!” You curse again. No wonder his party’s never gotten far. They don’t know a thing about monsters. “That thing could’ve got you killed!” You hiss, your ears falling back as you scowl.

Kabru’s still overcome by fits of coughing. After a few seconds, you start to feel it too. Of course you’d been hit by the blast. Thankfully, you’re certain it’s just residual fire. You may be a little out of it later, but you’re sure you’ll be fine. Well, you hope.

“Sorry…” Kabru sputters, wiping his mouth on his arm. “I wasn’t thinking…”

“I know.” You growl, still agitated by your earlier interaction. “You don’t seem to do that much when it comes to encountering monsters.” Kabru’s about to respond, but his voice catches in this throat. He’s still for a few seconds, and you notice his dark skin seems to deepen more with color. Your brow quirks.

“...I feel…strange.” Kabru states. 

You sigh.

“Yeah, you got hit directly by a Cupid’s Breath. You’ll likely be tripping for a bit.”

“No…I–” Kabru’s demeanor seems to change. He’s embarrassed. “It’s a different feeling.”

You want to ask more. But you start to feel it too…what he’s describing is unmistakable. There’s a familiar warmth beginning to fill your core. Arousal. So that’s the effect of the plant, not just mere hallucinogens. You mentally curse. 

“Oh.” Your own cheeks heat up now. This…is awkward. Kabru shifts in place.  you had no idea that these plants had this effect on anyone from what you understood they were purely hallucinogenic

Now you're stuck in a tight place with the leader of your party both steadily growing hornier and hornier. Just your fucking luck.

“Lets be rational.” You say, trying to maintain your composure. “ This is just the effect of the plant. if we try to stay calm and collected we could just let this pass over us. Then we'll go search for the others.”

Kabru  nods but he seems almost lost as if his mind is elsewhere.  It's clear the pollen is starting to have a major effect on him. Before you know it, you start to feel it too. It’s…instinctual. As if something primal is taking over. 

Has Kabru always looked this handsome?

No, no. You have to fight it. You try to stay normal, feel normal, think normal thoughts. Until. 

You’re warm–no, hot. When did it get so hot in here? You have to take off something, anything, everything. Your claws move to undo your armor, letting it fall to the floor. It takes what’s left of your willpower not to tear off your other clothing too. You’re shocked you manage to remove it without tearing it to shreds.

Kabru’s in a similar state. He struggles to take off his upper armor, then his hands seem to be unable to understand the mechanisms of his pants.  You drop to his side, perception starting to become altered. The rage you felt before dissipates as you crouch by Kabru. It seems his disdain has followed suit when your lips meet for a kiss.

You’d expect something like this to be awkward, revolting, entirely out of the realm of possibility—yet it feels perfectly normal, enticing, even. There’s only a split second the two of you remain parted before you go in for another. Kabru’s lips are soft, remarkably so. If you keep your eyes closed, you could easily imagine a girl in his place. However, your body remains focused on him. His presence, his warmth—slowly but surely, your mind becomes consumed by Kabru.

A sharp claw links under his shirt. There’s no time to bother with taking it off, you drag it down the linen of his undershirt. It tears without much resistance, the sound causing your ears to perk in anticipation.

The sight of his upper body is a surprise, but not an unwelcome one. He’s skinnier than you imagined. Wait, not that you imagined him unclothed. Because you never did that. But if you imagined it before, the sight before you now wouldn’t exactly match. It seems the cost of revival has done a toll on his body, causing him to lack much body fat. However, he’s attractive all the same. His dark skin is dotted with the occasional scar, evidence of prior years of training. His muscles are also easily visible under his skin. Each time his chest rises and falls, you can see the hint of them start to show. Kabru is ultimately average body wise. And for some reason, that makes the heat between your thighs grow.

His shirt now fully discarded, you feel the need to touch him. You’re not sure whether to do it with your hands or your mouth, mind fuzzy with arousal, so you just let your body move as it pleases. Your lips connect with the skin of his neck, eager to taste whatever lingers on the surface. Kabru gasps, then sings the sweetest moan into the silence. It rouses your interest, sending warm tingles down your groin. Paired with the saltiness of his skin, your senses are beginning to become overwhelmed by him.

As you adjust your body over his, your knee lies square between his legs, poking his groin. Kabru’s body eagerly responds to the touch. He moves to grind himself against your leg. You can feel how hard he is already, the heat radiating from his groin makes you want to tear it off and release him—letting him feel just as good as you. The air between you two is stuffy.

You continue to lick Kabru’s skin, nipping him not so gently as you move down his chest. At his collarbone, one of your fangs accidentally pricks his skin. The man jumps, but doesn’t yelp—instead letting out a wanton groan of pleasure. His eyes are widened in what you think might be fear, but you’re proven wrong when he lets out a needy whimper. In this state, even pain must feel good…The delirium starts to take over you both.

Your tongue dives out to lap at his skin. The coppery taste of blood fills your mouth as you do so. It’s intoxicating. As if you’re tasting the sweetest nectar nature has to offer. Kabru’s panting underneath you now, desperate moans and whimpers now filling the air . His fists grasp at the fur on your back, anchoring himself in place as he continues to grind on your knee. He’s enjoying this just as much as you do—the stiffness of his length is more than proof of that.

Seeing him come undone underneath you is engrossing. With each passing moment, you feel you’re finally seeing something real, aside from the act he puts up. His scent even matches with the moment—proving to you that despite what he’s said, he wants this just as much as you. Perhaps more.

 Your own legs link around his now, allowing you to drag yourself along his clothed thigh. The friction is absolutely delicious. It elicits a deep growl from your throat as you start to pleasure yourself. Juices leak onto his pant leg and your clit starts to harden. Just how visibly you’re turned on now would be mortifying if it weren’t for the situation at hand. It must be the effects of the pollen, because you’re leaking slick all over Kabru’s pants after only a few motions. The linen starts to stick to the skin of his thigh, which only makes the feeling even more gratification as you grind against him.

Kabru starts to take more initiative now. He grits his teeth, brows furrowing as his hips grind into you with fervor. You continue to hump his leg as well—the two of you desperate to keep this pleasant feeling going. Grunts and growls fill the silence, only aided by the noises of fabric shifting and your claws scraping against the dungeon floor. Kabru slows without warning and shudders. His fists hold onto you with a vice grip, keeping him as tethered to reality as possible while an orgasm rips through him. There’s a graceful moan as he reaches his peak and a visible wet spot forms in the crotch of his pants. If you weren’t in an equally pathetic state, you’d have loved to make fun of him for that.

Despite cumming, Kabru still remains hard as a rock. His tent is much more visible now due to his wet pants. You start to drool from your mouth and from your hole. You need that inside of you. Now.

Your hands perch on Kabru’s shoulders, holding him firm against the ground as you move your crotch above his. Grinding against his cock is much, much more relieving than simply doing it on his thigh. The indent of his length glides nice and smooth down your wet slit. You frot your clit against him too, relishing in the shocks of pleasure it sends down your thighs. This is absolutely heavenly. 

The pollen from the Cupid’s Breath sends your mind in a haze. There’s nothing left besides chasing that sweet, sweet feeling of release. You’re humping the outline of Kabru’s cock with fervor, his hands move to rest against your hips and guide you up and down his length. Just like that. You bite your lip in anticipation. Your orgasm is right on the brink. Just one, two more movements…and you’re cumming. Your body seizes, thighs twitching and your ears fall back. You let out a high-pitched moan before it evolves into a frustrated hiss. 

There’s no relief. That wasn’t enough. Your body is just as on fire as it was before. The wetness between your legs continues to leak out, coating Kabru’s length which lies his pants. It’s soaking wet now, leaving nothing to the imagination.

And you need it. Bad. 

It seems Kabru has the same idea. Before you can tear into his pants, his hands grasp your wrists. He wants to be in charge now. You scowl at him and growl, flashing your fangs in a feral attempt to make him bend to your wishes, but he doesn’t budge. There’s a bit of fighting and scratching, but eventually, he wrestles you to the ground, pinning your wrists above your head. After a few deep pants, his eyes trail down…before he grimaces.

“What is that?”

It must be the total shock of the moment which snaps him out of the misty haze of the sex pollen. Kabru gestures to your inner thighs. It’s hard to tell whether you should be offended or not. He looks grossed out, but the crotch of his pants looks like it’s about to tear at the seams.

“Does it matter? Because you’re gonna stick your dick in it no matter what.” You sneer at him, panting in between your words. Kabru doesn’t seem impressed, but his fingernails start to dig into you now.

One of your clawed feet lunges out to scratch at his pants. Kabru gets the message and releases you to tear the garment, along with his underwear, off. The hastiness only makes him able to get it under his ass before he’s lining his cock up with your hole.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” Kabru mutters. Maybe the prior orgasm didn’t provide enough relief to feel normal just yet, but it makes the two of you at least cognizant enough to speak. “But if I don’t fuck you, I think I’m gonna go crazy.”

“Same here. Y’know, I have standards too.”

Kabru grits his teeth. He’s angry. And totally conflicted. But he can’t not do this. The head of his cock lines up with your hole, and it barely takes a thrust from him before you’re greedily sucking him into you.

The two of you moan in sync, yours sounding more like a growl. Your hands anchor themselves on his shoulders, claws pricking his skin deeper and deeper with each thrust. Your hole swallows him like it’s starving. There’s zero resistance due to how wet you are, each time he thrusts in and out there’s a sloppy sound. The pheromones that hang in the air make your mind hazy. You feel utterly perverted doing this, letting this man you barely know–who’s you’re sure hates you, fuck you senseless.

One of your hands reaches down to stroke your clit. Underneath the pressure, it grows harder and harder at your touch. You feel your orgasm start to build once more. Kabru’s hands dig into the dust on the dungeon floor as he slams into you. His previous apprehension may still reside in his mind, but his body shows no resistance. His balls slap loudly against your ass, echoing against the rocky walls as your carnal sounds fill the silence.

Your genitals aren’t like those of humans. They’re designed to promote sexual intercourse and milk males for everything they’re worth, ensuring proper insemination. It’s something one like you could handle, but it’s an incredibly new sensation for Kabru. The fact that he’s been able to last over ten thrusts so far has you impressed. His stamina is something to be praised. 

His face is twisted in bliss as he continues to pound into you. He’s close, you can tell, but doing his best to last as long as possible. You’re unsure if it’s due to the fact he wants to indulge himself in this or if he’s actually thinking of your pleasure too…your thoughts are confined when he sits up and hikes your calves over his shoulders, now pushing your thighs against your belly in a mating press. He presses one palm against your upper groin, allowing him to more effectively hit your g-spot.

The new position has your toes curling. Of course he’d know how to heighten your ecstacy—all that time spent learning anatomy and he did end up with something useful. Not only is Kabru abusing your rapacious hole, but this position even has him grinding his pubic bone against your enlarged clit as he splits you open. You cry out at his pounds into your g-spot, grunting and groaning in a bestial sense enough to rival your own. The length of his cock drags against your greedy walls as you tighten around him. The brutal onslaught on your hole has you crying and cursing, burying your nails into him and slicing his skin. 

When he spills into you, you eagerly soak up every last drop. Nothing goes to waste like this— you’re bred effectively and purposefully no matter the circumstances. Kabru slides out of you with a sickeningly wet plop, then falls to the floor. His chest heaves as he attempts to catch his breath.

Meanwhile, you still have some steam left. Being affected by the pollen secondly must mean it’s still lingering. You remain under the influence.

You stalk over to Kabru now. He looks like prey, weak and vulnerable. His chest continues to rise and fall heavily as he quirks his brow at you.

“What…are you—“

You pounce onto him like a cat would a mouse. His seems to understand the reality of the situation, noticing that carnal hunger in your eyes. Kabru swallows—a mix of trepidation along with anticipation.

“I’m not done yet. I wanna fuck you now.”

You speak, frotting your clit against his cock. Kabru shudders and moans. He’s not exactly in his right mind. But all things considered, are you? After what the two of you have done already, there’s really not much left to be held sacred.

He opens his legs, almost shyly, as he allows you to center yourself between them more comfortably.

“Don’t…don’t go too crazy…” He whimpers when your wet clit rocks against him again. “I’ve never really—“

He’s embarrassed now. This type of sex is totally unorthodox. Especially with someone like you. In the back of his mind, he’s a bit concerned you may rip him in two with that monster strength.

“No worries. I’ll stay calm.” You lick a stripe up his neck. “As calm as I can be, that is. You’re the one that got us hit by the Cupid’s Breath. So you can’t run from the consequences now.”

Before he can reply, you let your fangs sink into the skin of his collarbone again. You wanna taste his blood again. You want everything his body can offer you.

Kabru yelps, and while he’s distracted, you sink your clit in between his cheeks, thrusting into his ass. The sex from earlier left more than enough lubrication between them, and the effects from the pollen and orgasms have his body much more relaxed than usual. Therefore, it’s easy to push yourself inside him.

The taste of his skin is still so delicious. You savor the taste as you lap up his blood, before moving down to suck on his hard nipples. Kabru grips at the dungeon floor, before ultimately deciding he needs to hold onto your arms. His teeth grit as a sharp exhale leaves his nose. Despite the tight squeeze, no, it doesn’t hurt—it actually feels really good. When you pinch his bud in between your teeth, the whine he lets out is carnal and desperate.

Meanwhile, you’re preoccupied with just how tight he is. Holy shit, he wasn’t lying, there’s no way anyone has ever fucked him like this before. You rut against him, slapping your thighs against his with each powerful thrust. Your pelvic fur is damp with slick. There’s an audible plap each time your hips meet, and when you pull out, you can feel the stickiness still connecting you and Kabru together.

Fucking his ass is greater than you could’ve imagined. Which admittedly you have quite a few times before. You always thought it’d be the perfect way to shut this guy up and get him out of his head. With your skills, you could get that stupid facade of his to crumble into pieces and make him a dumb cumslut. And your imagination proved correct. Kabru’s become reduced to nothing beneath you. He just lies there and whines, his breathing ragged and eyes squeezed shut as you thrust into him.

You’re curious. As good as this feels and as much as you want to cum already, you want to try something. You reach over and start to stroke his limp length in one hand. Kabru gasps, eyes shooting wide open to look at you. You chuckle as he leaks precum all over your palm.

“Gods, no-“ He sputters. “It’s too much. I can’t, not again.”

Kabru struggles under you, wanting to remove your hand from his crotch, but you just thrust into him harder, causing his body to seize.

“Don’t be like that. Just one more. I don’t ever get to see your real reactions to things.” You pant. “Let me have this.”

Kabru whimpers. Another thrust has him falling limp under you. You pick up the pace, now fucking his ass throughly as you pump his cock. Drool leaks from the side of Kabru’s mouth as he moans and whines with fervor. You take the opportunity to lick it up, then gently kiss his lips—which he reciprocates.

That action was oddly intimate. You pull back. You’re not sure why you did that. Whatever.

Your thrusts begin to get faster, lazier, and then you’re cumming for a third time, spreading warmth and slick all down your thighs again. Kabru manages to cum too. He bucks his hips, letting out a harsh cry as watery cum pours from his head. As the two of you lie in the afterglow, both trying to catch your breath, residual shocks of pleasure cause you and Kabru to involuntarily twitch and writhe.

Your own lips move to gently kiss his skin now, trying to soothe where you bit along with just coaxing Kabru through the aftermath of all this. Your mind is just starting to come down from the haze along with his. And you know that last orgasm must have hit him hard. Warm lips press against his throat, his cheek, his temple—until you finally meet his lips again. Kabru doesn’t resist. Almost reacting on instinct, they press back against yours.

You pull back. Your mind seems a lot clearer now. You can actually think rationally. And the regret slowly begins to sink in. 

Did this really just happen? What if the others heard? You’re praying they got trapped somewhere nice and far away. Ideally fully soundproof as well.

Kabru starts to sit up. You take this as a sign to hop off of him, now awkwardly seated beside him.

“We need to get cleaned up.” He states, running a hand through his hair. He looks a mix between upset and exhausted. You’re not sure what to make of it. But for now, you’re happy to just move on from the situation at hand.

“Right.”

Thankfully, the fourth floor hosts plenty of opportunities to bathe. You can tell there’s running water nearby, too. In the direction you were going before this incident, you could hear it.

You grab your clothes, chuck your bag over your shoulder, then beckon Kabru to follow. He does without question.

The walk to the bathing pool is silent. Neither of you really want to address what happened, at least not now. Thankfully though, when you reach the pool, there’s no awkwardness with getting undressed…considering the two of you have been exposed for quite a while.

The water is cool, but refreshing. As you sink into it, you let out a relaxed sigh. The feverish feeling from earlier starts to finally melt away. Kabru stands about ten feet away, his back turned towards you. You take a moment to appreciate his frame. He’s pretty. You can admit that now without feeling the need to berate yourself for thinking that.

However, his back’s coated in angry, red scratches. A few still dribble blood. He does deserve it for what he said to you earlier. Still, oddly enough…you feel bad. It was hot in the heat of the moment. Now he’s probably left with the residual soreness other pain for a while. There’s no way he’s going to ask Holm to heal that for him.

“Hey,” You tread water towards him. “Let me wash your back for you.”

Again, you know you don’t have to offer him this relief. But you want to. Kabru doesn’t react much. He shrugs. You take it as a yes, then move to take the washcloth from him.

Now, Kabru’s far cry from his usual self. There’s no remnants of the charming, charismatic leader from hours before. He’s exposed in a physical and emotional sense. Seeing him so vulnerable in front of you like this is akin to watching a newborn fawn. You feel like the predator in this situation now. None of this was your fault, if anything Kabru is to blame for disturbing the flower, but you’re still guilty. Kabru’s feelings about monsters don’t stem from usual assumptions about them. From the way he’s acting, you can tell something happened. Something terrible. You wonder if it really is best for you to be interacting with him right now. 

“I’m sorry.” You mutter to him, gently washing his wounds. “For this. Whatever happened to you.” 

He’s silent. You can hear his mouth open, and there’s a sound as if he’s trying to say something, but he doesn’t. Kabru sinks into the water.

“I’d like to be left alone.” He says. His voice is shaky, back still turned to you. Gods, you feel shitty. You place the washcloth on his shoulder.

“Okay. Let me know when you’re ready to leave.”

You don’t spend much time at the freshwater pool. Your bodies and clothes are clean from pollen, along with other contaminants now. The only reminder of what happened is the damage to the clothing, but that can be explained to the party with a quick story of a monster, which they’d easily believe. Rin and Holm could patch them up quickly. And due to Kabru’s acting skills, they’d do it without asking unnecessary questions. (Mainly why the tears seem to be so uniform and focused on intimate areas.)

“Ready to go?”

There it is. That voice. The overly perky tone he uses as if he’s forcing himself to be polite again. You want to pull your fur out. His mask is back on.

“Yeah, let's.” The heavy weight of your travel pack is nothing compared to the burden weighing on your mind. 

Your own curiosity about the man grows. You wonder if he’s ever going to address this. Give you a chance to get closer to him. You’d be willing to open up to him as well. 

Kabru smiles. You pretend its legitimate. His footsteps and musings on where the others might be linger in the dungeon halls.

Probably not, you figure. Questions for him bubble in your throat, but you swallow them down. You don’t need to get close. 

This is just another job. 

[strawberrystepmom]

ready to eat

pairing: Yami Sukehiro x F!Noble Reader

word count: 4.9k

contents: NSFW - minors and ageless blogs dni, I will hard block you. Takes place in canon universe, there is a slight age/experience difference insinuated between the pairing but reader is at least 25, reader has named magical ability (movement magic), so much banter, oral sex (f receiving and finishing and it's sexy)

cw: mentions of marriage and misogyny, virginity (reader is a virgin)

notes: brain rot has proven to be fatal so here you are. this is open ended and i would not consider it a oneshot bc i'd love to write more about these two. hope you enjoy! thank you for reading ♡ | crossposted to ao3, divider by @cafekitsune

you can find more about these two here, here, here and here 🖤

Nighttime is your time, a lesson you taught yourself independent of your instructors many years ago. 

Movement magic allows you the luxury of blending in with your scenery, rushing unseen toward a capital district that is on the opposite end of where your family has made their name. Nobody here would recognize you even if you were less discreet, cloak gathered around your face and obscuring any unidentifiable features, and the freedom is indescribable; better than every sunny day or freshly made tea dessert. 

You are free to be yourself. Unmarried, unattached, unimportant, it doesn’t matter. You stumble into the usual inn you make your domain until the sun rises, ready to watch the way people you have little in common with live. If anyone knew you’d get reprimanded, probably rightfully, though you have never quite understood the scandal that lies in being a well informed woman. Your mother was a gossip and isn’t that another way to become informed? 

It’s society's acceptable way, anyway.

You slink into the corner table, away from the crowd gathered nearer the bar, and slip your hood off of your face. No glances of recognition from anyone else, too engrossed in their own drinks and their own conversations, and you sink down against the back of the chair you’re sitting in. It’s nice to be anonymous, you decided months ago when you began doing this. You aren’t certain you want to continue being so inconspicuous when you remind yourself why you’ve been doing this to begin with - to gain even the slightest bit of the life experience that continues to elude you. To love and laugh and feel joy that you’ve been told only comes with marriage, something you are too apprehensive about committing to. 

It’s why you come namelessly into a district that does not belong to you or your kind. You hope that someone will find you interesting, a beaten path off their life’s track. Someone to laugh with or tell stories to. It’s all you’ve ever really wanted, a romantic to your core despite the decidedly unromantic life you lead. Caretaking, getting earfuls from your father about being a responsibility that the family no longer wants to have when taking your age and failed proposals into consideration. So lost in your own thoughts, you barely notice when a man slides into the chair next to you, glancing down at your hands and then at your face.

“You need to stop wearing whatever is making you smell like that.”

The interruption to your quiet evening makes you jump, no longer dissociating and now in the present. You recognize the man sitting next to you, a captain of a Magic Knights squad. Their faces are plastered all over the capital and you’re shocked that he stumbled into such a low brow establishment though getting a look at him up close convinces you that he may not be in the entirely wrong spot.

“Captain Sukehiro,” you offer politely, formal as ever. “I regret having to request clarification from a man as esteemed as yourself but what do you mean?”

The captain snorts, shaking his head in response to you as though your manners are piteous instead of a courtesy that should be extended to all. 

“Don’t call me that, Yami is fine.” He sniffs, stuffing a cigarette between his lips. “I’m talking about the shit you’re wearing that is filling every corner of this place. People don’t wear things that make them smell like bakeries around here.” 

Scrunching your nose, you lift your wrist to your nose for a sniff. He’s referencing the perfume you spritzed on after bathing and the way it sticks to you, the smell wafting around the table with every move you make. It hasn’t caught any eyes yet, thankfully, but he can see how this will end if you don’t correct your mistake now. 

“What are you doing around here anyway? I figured women of your, uh, breed or whatever stuck to their own districts.” 

Bristling slightly at his insinuation that you find yourself too good to hang out here, you square your shoulders and clear your throat. A low chuckle rumbles in Yami while he lights his cigarette, raising his brows and eagerly awaiting whatever argument you are clearly cooking up in that little head of yours. 

“I’ll have you know that I enjoy exploring parts of the city that I rarely see. I am out here thanks to my own curiosity.” Your eyes shift from Yami toward the rest of the tavern, a small smile on your face watching the patrons laugh amongst themselves. “I think it’s really wonderful that people are happy no matter how they were born into this world and I’m thankful to be able to experience this side of life too.”

The captain could spend all night laughing at your naivety if you’d let him but he doesn’t wanna let you dig any deeper of a hole than you’re already finding yourself in. You’re clearly a fully grown woman, even the doll-like roundness of your eyes and cheeks can’t convince him you’re under 25 judging from the way you carry yourself. You aren’t the first noble girl he has ever seen sneak off in an attempt to find herself yet it strikes him as hilarious you clearly believe it.

“So you aren’t like the other nobles? You see people as people?” The brusque individual takes a long drink from the mug in his hand, Adam’s apple bobbing while he swallows, your eyes fixed on the sheer size of his neck and throat. “What do you want? A prize?”

Even the enticing muscles of his body (how can one person have so many muscles bulging off of them anyway?) cannot distract enough to forget that he’s insulting you. You place your hands in your lap and fiddle with the edge of the cloak that covers the simple nightgown you are wearing, covering it enough that no one is suspicious about why you’re wearing nightclothes in the first place. 

“No, I’m simply telling you what I’m doing here because you asked.”

Sipping from his mug, the man glances you up and down. He swallows and squares his shoulders.

“Okay? That still doesn’t tell me what you’re actually doing here, you’re only talking about feelings and shit.” Another sip and he places his ale down. “So what are you doing here? Isn’t it a little late for your type to be out with the rest of us?”

He considers you for a moment. Not bad looking. Pretty, even. Not plain in the way some overly manicured noble women can come across and you clearly aren’t using magic to enhance anything about you or else he’d notice. He’s a pro at sniffing out transformation magic in women having seen so many who have taught themselves to dabble in the arts to subtly tweak their appearances. You sigh and he finds it impressively naive to do so, your shoulders pinching in while you exhale sharply out of your nose. 

“I’m looking for someone to help me.” Now this is interesting. He raises a brow, glancing you up and down. You lean toward him, creating a veil of intimacy in a crowded tavern, elbows resting on the table rudely. “I, um, I fear I’ll be woefully unprepared for my marriage bed once the time arrives and I want to avoid embarrassment. I’m already too old to be considered marriageable to most and my heart could not take physical rejection from my husband as well.”

“You’re a virgin and feel weird about it and now you’re makin’ it my problem.”

Gasping, your eyes widen and you shake your head rapidly. Yami smirks when he senses how quickly your heart is pounding beneath those layers of fabrics most in this place could only ever dream of seeing much less feel against their skin, curious enough that he won’t just tell you to get lost at this point. 

“Please do not repeat my predicament so loudly, Captain Sukehiro.” You whisper hiss, fighting the urge to kick him beneath the table as you do the rest of your fathers’ unruly issue you are the eldest of. “It’s not something I’m terribly proud of.”

The captain scoffs, humming to himself and adjusting his posture so that he’s leaning toward you instead of on the back of his chair, cigarette dangling from his fingers. You’ve captured his attention, at least for now, and he’ll give you all of it that you can handle. Pursing his lips, he glances around the bar for a split second before focusing on you, gray eyes locked on your pouting mouth.

“Then why is it your situation in the first place? Thought you nobles were too proud for your own good.” He flicks the lighter in his pocket. “And don’t call me that. Yami is fine.”

You should find it very rude that you are being asked so many questions and being made to suit so many demands made by a lesser born to begin with but the curiosity feels like deeply personalized attention, causing you to bloom in response. Hunched shoulders stretch out, the graceful posture you’ve spent what would amount to months of your life if you stretched the hours out perfecting appearing. No one at home is this curious about you outside of when you will no longer be around to tend the younger children your father continues to spawn and it feels different to be the center of a man’s attention. 

Not a weak, defanged little noble whose only function is to act as an additional limb for his father. A man with rough hands and battle scars and overgrown hair down his neck. 

“I haven’t felt a spark with any of the men I’ve been introduced to. They’re lovely individuals with proud lineage but it has always felt so…” you search around the room, lifting your hand to your mouth to idly nip at the cuticle around your thumbnail. “Forced. I don’t want to be with them and they do not want to be with me. Four men and none of them made me feel like I could spend the rest of my life with them.”

Once again, Yami chuckles at your predicament. Your cheeks heat in response, ears tingling and burning as that familiar feeling of being mocked encourages you to retreat inward. The awareness that you do not have to put up with this kind of treatment from a man beneath your station 

“Sounds like you’re hard to impress, kid.” A plume of smoke is blown over your head, the cigarette he was holding now dangling from his lips while he examines you with narrowed eyes. “Little darling won’t settle for less than a fairytale.”

Retreating further into yourself, you move your hands from your lap to fold your arms over your chest.

“I’m no child, obviously.” 

Your retort is as petulant as your posture and the man smirks, the corner of his mouth jumping, tenting his fingers in front of him and leaning toward you. Despite himself, he likes you. Your willingness to shit here and just shoot the shit with him has impressed him but not enough to let you off easy. 

“You’re here beggin’ for attention like one so I dunno about all that.”

Scoffing, you shift in your chair but make no effort to get up. You won’t be picked off by him that easily. 

“You know nothing about me, sir.” You raise your brows and shift your head to emphasize your point, arms still folded. A grown woman behaving like a little brat shouldn’t draw a man like this in yet he considers himself intrigued, stamping out the nearly depleted butt of his cigarette on the edge table in front of him. 

“Can’t argue with that. Keep talking.” 

He leans back in his chair and sizes you up, boots stacked on top of each other where his ankles are crossed and his long legs are extended out in front of him. It’s one thing to be keeping him here against his will because you won’t stop talking, it’s another when he is a willing audience. Your mouth runs dry and you gradually unfold your arms, placing them above your knee so you can subtly rid your clammy palms of the prickling sweat across them.

“I want to experience the things that a husband and wife are to experience together though I do not have anyone to enjoy them with.” Even the way nobles describe sex is stuffy and uncomfortable, Yami realizes, brows raising slightly. He lets you continue speaking before butting in, letting his arms dangle from the sides of the chair. “Perhaps it’s wrong of me to believe it will change my luck but I won’t change my mind. I have to know how to…perform.”

Perform is such an interesting choice of word. All of the sex the captain has ever had has been far less of a performance and more of a two person dance, locked in repetitive motions and tangled up as one form. He isn’t much for the sappy, intimate shit you’re clearly insinuating you’d like though he feels like he could help you.

“I’ll tell you what,” he starts, leaning back toward you and closing the distance to once again grant you some semblance of privacy. “I can show you how a man should treat a woman but I can’t promise you it’s how a husband will treat his wife, you understand?”

Your eyes widen and you nod once, picking up on his meaning immediately. Impressed by your sharp wit he smiles although it’s nearly as unfriendly as the ones exchanged at court and only slightly less smug. Leaning in toward him, your brows knit together, and you bunch your skirt up in your fists.

“I don’t know if I’m ready for, you know…” you trail off, frowning slightly. He pretends like he doesn’t understand what you mean, shaking his head and staring vacantly at your mouth. “I don’t know if I’m ready for you to take me.”

Another snort from him and your face heats like a wildfire. The two of you remained locked in this strange posture, whispering but not quite, discussing the terms of whatever is occurring here. Blood rushes from your face to your chest to your stomach, a familiar tense feeling between your legs making you shift uncomfortably in your chair.

“The only one who would be doing any taking in that scenario is me and you don’t have to worry about that tonight.” He tips his mug and finishes off the last droplets of his ale, sliding the empty vessel across the table top where it stops just short of you. 

“What if we never see each other again after tonight?” That sappy shit he was right to assume you wanted has surfaced earlier than he expected. He shrugs flippantly, arching a brow. “Then we never see each other tonight but at least you can say you know how it feels when a man takes care of you.”

Inhaling loudly, you weigh your options. 

You can always get up and go home, turn tail and run to where you will always be viewed as something akin to a decorative sconce on the wall instead of a human being. Your opinion matters not, you’re a glorified caretaker for your younger siblings, some of who are your fathers rightful heirs thanks to the boyhood the Gods so mercifully granted them. You can retreat and continue wasting away waiting for a man who thrills you enough that you can ever see him as someone deserving of being your equal. 

Or, you can consider Yami’s offer. He’s rough around the edges and speaks with no formality or regard and you like it. At least you think you do. He doesn’t care who you are any more than the others around you do yet he makes you feel the most seen anyone ever has. He’s interested in your words, your ideas, and even your pleasure - a realization that makes the knot in your stomach tighten further.

“Okay.” You concede. “I think that I’d like that.”

The man rises from his seat, smirking, tossing some coins down on the table in front of him for the drink. 

“I know you will,” he finishes, words dripping with honesty but not arrogance. 

He begins to head toward the stairs that will lead the two of you upstairs and your breath catches when he looks over his shoulder and raises his brows, signaling with a wave that you should follow him. You toss a few more coins on the table in front of you, uncertain of how much a room in an establishment like this would cost to begin with, and rush to follow him with your cloak pulled tightly against your body.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

This room is nothing like your quarters at home where everything around you gleams in gold and marble and silk. It may be decidedly less impressive though it’s twice as cozy if you’re honest. 

The bed is barely large enough for two and there’s a well loved desk pushed against the wall, magical light flickering from the wall. Shutting the door unceremoniously, you swallow and feel the captain at your back, a large palm covering the entirety of the space between your shoulder blades. You don’t recall him seeming so imposing downstairs, glancing upward to meet his eyes. He can tell you are inexperienced solely by how skittish you’ve become beneath his fingertips, an intriguing shift from who you were sitting opposite him.

Boldly asking a man to pleasure you has told him everything about the person you are beneath the skirts and the trappings of society. If he waits long enough he knows that hungry girl will once again show her face to him and while he isn’t particularly patient, he believes it would be worth his while to wait. 

“Go sit on the edge of the bed.” He instructs right above your ear and gently shoves you toward where he’s commanded you be. 

You follow directions and sit, legs dangling off of the edge, unfastening your cloak and letting it rest on the bed. The knot in your belly remains tight, keeping you on edge with all of your movements while your walls throb weakly, arousal and curiosity bearing down on you with similar weight. Sukehiro towers over you, slowly unfastening his belt and cloak, leaving the leather goods and his katana on the desk. 

“I’m going to lick your pussy. Do you know what that means?”

Cheeks warming, once again surprised by his lack of decency, you nod once. You have read about this particular act more than once and have also heard about it secondhand from some of the married women you call friends although their reviews have been mixed. Books have always made it seem far more interesting, an exchange in the same way a kiss is between a man and the paradise between a woman’s legs. 

“Good, at least I won’t have to explain all the technicalities.” He approaches you slowly and squats down, now face level with your middle. You glance down at him and wonder if you should touch him, if he’d like it, if he’d want you to. “Lift your hips.” The next command gives you reprieve from overthinking and you do as asked, raising them enough that he can pull your nightgown from beneath your thighs, spreading them to fit between.

“If you don’t like something, speak up.” He glances up at you, holding your nightgown halfway over his face. “If you do like something, speak up and I’ll keep goin’.”

The linen of your nightgown stretches and tents in the shape of Yami’s head and shoulders when he pulls it over himself, too big to be fully covered by the fabric. His back is curled into a C shape and the muscles ripple while he positions you, hands that you can feel but cannot see gripping the outside of your soft thighs to keep you from deciding at the last minute you are feeling shy. 

It’s too late for you to fall back on the shy act now, your panties dangling off of one of your ankles. Even if you attempted, you know the man currently fixated on spreading you open with his fingers would surface from beneath your skirt and laugh at you. Your heart simply could not take the open derision and ridicule, already feeling overextended thanks to this evening’s excitement.

“Alright, you’re about to feel something different,” he warns kindly, puffs of his breath fanning out against the slickened skin of your labia. The low rumble of his voice sends another rush of wetness seeping out of your cunt, excitement mixing with terror while you await the pleasure you were promised. 

Your hips shift impatiently on the edge of the dingy inn bed, legs on either side of his still dressed torso. His tank top is untucked from his pants and he no longer wears his belt, discarding the unnecessary while remaining firmly in control of the situation. There isn’t much that makes his mouth water but the sight of warm and just for him pussy is doing just that, his tongue darting out to wet his lower lip.

His thumbs massage the outside of your thighs, keeping you as relaxed as possible, and he leans in to kiss the temptation he can no longer deny himself. A simple smack, loud enough that you can both hear it, yet the moan that escapes you is positively sinful. High pitched and breathy and immediately obscured, clapping your palm over your mouth to keep yourself quiet. 

“Nope,” he simply responds from beneath your nightgown, hand reaching up to remove yours from over your mouth. “What’d I tell you? Half’a the fun is hearing how much you like it.”

One of the thumbs that was rubbing circles into your thigh now does the same on the back of your hand, calloused digit occasionally catching over the surface of your smooth skin. It’s no shock that your hands are soft like your body and your hair and your eyes, it’s what your life was meant to be like the minute you assumed the role of it.  Soft and easy, no roughness to throw you off track.

Yami chuckles and lets his tongue feel you this time, dragging the wet muscle through your folds, rewarded with another of those breathy moans. You do not rush to cover this one, tilting your head backward and letting your eyes flutter shut to focus on the sensation of another lick. He takes his time to get to know you slowly, brushing the flat of it over your hole and dragging the arousal he receives as a reward upward toward your clit.

He doesn’t release his skills on your sensitive bud so quickly but a simple brush of the side of his tongue against it is enough to make you squeal, shoulders rounding in momentarily. Repeating the motion, you squeal again and arch your back, thrusting your hips forward into his face and dragging every bit of you he can see across his mouth.

“W-what are you doing to me, Yami?” You ask breathlessly, elbows propping you up on the bed and keeping you grounded. “I’ve never felt anything like this before.”

Your head swims with unfamiliar pressure, sparking a line from your brain to between your legs, all connected and you fight the urge to slump back onto the bed, too curious about the way that the light linen covering the man between your legs shrouds him. 

“Eating, obviously,” he mumbles against your body, tongue lapping against your clit. Your body reacts to each touch, thighs tensing on either side of his face, hips slowly bucking in pursuit of the feeling again and again. Your back arches and your moans are staccato babbles, elbows finally failing to hold you up when he gives your clit full attention.. “Oh my, wh–,” your back arches off of the bed before you can finish your thought, another rough lick to your throbbing clit followed by the warmth of his mouth while he sucks it between his lips, flicking the bundle of nerves with the tip of his tongue. 

There is no denying that you may be prissy and perfectly pampered but he was clearly correct in his assumption about you being more than meets the eye. The way your body responds naturally to his ministrations, hips grinding and toes curling and lips keening, tells him every little secret you’re too demure to spill. You want to have sex for enjoyment, to chase your own pleasure and have your own fun. 

He’ll never fault someone for that although he believes he can get you to admit it’s the truth. Maybe not tonight but eventually he’ll convince you to drop the “good wife” act. If he weren’t enjoying himself so much he’d grumble about considering a future where the two of you will meet up for this again, too lost in his own enjoyment of your pretty noises to realize how unreasonable this was to begin with.

“Please keep going,” you beg, a tearless sob thickening your voice. 

Yami doesn’t look up, well aware of what he is capable of, but he keeps his hand over yours and continues rubbing gentle circles into it. You flip your hand and face your palm upward, loosely tangling your fingers with his, your hips now dragging across his lips wildly. It’s messy and you are dripping like a peak season fruit, drenching his chin and sending little droplets down onto his tank top and chest. Moans increase in pitch when his tongue dips inside of you, lapping at your sweetness and drinking it down with satisfied grunts, though he can tell you’re close solely by how you ride his face alone.

You lack the words to describe how you feel, not that you are a stranger to self pleasure, but it’s different when someone else is showing you the maximum of how you can feel. Every inch of you buzzes with a pleasant awareness, nerve endings sparking like celebratory fireworks, and you lift yourself up with your elbows to glance down at the man making you feel more than you ever thought possible, your nightgown no longer around his head. You were so lost you didn’t even realize he shifted to holding your nightgown up above your belly button with the hand you aren’t keeping occupied, those astute eyes appreciatively watching your chest heave and face twist.

“Yami, I think,” you start and he chuckles, sucking your clit between his lips again, sending you over the edge and effectively making sure you know how exactly it feels when someone else makes you cum. 

Dots of light spark in the corners of your vision and you slump down onto the bed, too spent from the strength of your orgasm to remain upright. The perpetrator of your current state untangles your fingers from his wordlessly and he rises to standing, leaning over your exhausted body and propping himself up with his forearm.

“Good as you thought it would be?” 

Giggling, you nod. It’s all you can think to do, truly left wordless and thoughtless, grateful that what you read on the pages of the books you hide amongst your more chaste picks were somewhat accurate to how the experience feels. There has been no insinuation that he expects reciprocation so you don’t bring it up, quietly glancing up at him and noticing that the distance between your face and his decreases every few seconds.

“Now taste.” 

He closes the little distance left, tongue pressing against the seam of your lips. You grant him entrance and whimper when your mouth fills with the taste of his tongue, a mixture of acrid tobacco and ale and something you could only recognize as yourself. 

“Pretty good, right?” All you can do is nod dumbly, still splayed awkwardly across the bed. Should you leave? Should you stay? Is that pesky reciprocation going to come into the conversation now? Yami glances down at you with something you’d almost mistake for warmth in his cool irises, rolling onto his back beside you and folding his arms over his chest. “Are you going to head home now or what?” 

You shake your head, letting your flipped up skirt rest against your belly, the air of the room cooling your heated skin. “No but I’m not going to expect you to stay if you have other business to attend to. I will stay the night and leave before sunrise.”

It’s what’s polite. You did pay for an entire night, after all, and your raising will not allow you to be rude. Pushy and precocious at times but never outright disrespectful. The man next to you sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, turning his face to look at you. 

Maybe you are as pretty as he originally thought. It could be all the blood rushing from his head to his dick, a problem he is attempting to solve mentally by envisioning anything but the satisfying contractions of your cunt while it cums for him, but you glow even in this low light. 

“Only thing I have to do is go downstairs and drink and then I’ll just end up running my mouth and losing money.” 

You giggle at his honesty, turning your face to look at him. The gruffness only adds to his aura, as unrefined as a man can be, yet you really do like it. Even if the two of you sit here in silence for the rest of the night, there’s much you feel you can learn by simply gazing at him, a quiet battle of wills unfolding between the two of you like the mist that fills the city on a summer morning. 

Permeating, inescapable, potentially trouble.