#it’s astounding to see how much of a grip this man has on me. he and iziador derange me. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

vonlycaonwife · 4 months ago

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May I please have a smexy von lycoan x maid!reader, (fem please) where the new maid is a clutz and gets on Von's nerves on accident. and then one day he loses his composure and decides to 'punish' her and maybe teach her a lesson about proper serving etiquette. please scenario, i would like to hear your thoughts. ;)

I know who you are you sonuva- ANYWAY yeah I can do that.....lord help me

Female reader! Also very ooc!

Warnings: Smut, breeding, face fucking, knotting, dubious consent, unbalanced power dynamics (boss/worker like), severely ooc, partially written before game release

He has just about had it.

A few months ago the agency had just hired a new employee, one that Lycaon had to supervise. She seemed very sweet and excited to do her job, something he enjoyed seeing since those at Victoria Housekeeping Co. must have a good head on their shoulders to do their job.

But then it turned out she was even more of a clutz than Corin, something that's baffled almost everyone.

An often occurrence would be her cleaning something to perfection, only to end up breaking said thing. Another would be her always burning whatever it was she was baking, or adding too much of something. Even during hollow raids she and others end up getting hurt by her own weapon rather than by ethereal. Mainly the only thing she can do is serve tea and even that's a fifty-fifty on if she'll drop the cup in your lap or not. It was astounding how many things went wrong when she was near, though she was always apologetic over every mess up.

And today Lycaon had to scold her once again over the continuous trip ups, though he has not done that yet since the woman was late for their meeting again.

It was bad enough for him that he had to deal with his own body that was determined to start a rut, but combine that with the fact that the woman that irritated him to no end also had a scent that drove him mad. He usually had better control over himself, but every time something happened that involved her he would have to steel his nerves or otherwise he would go into a full rut. It annoyed him to no end. Though he supposed it was why he was harsher on her than he was on anyone else, as much as he hated to admit. Others had brought it up to him about his behavior, but he would rather be harsher than act like a feral dog.

"You're late." He huffed once he heard the door open, he turned his eyes to meet the doe like ones of the woman. He held back a growl as her scent entered his nose, quickly placing his hands onto the desk to keep himself from tearing into his uniform. She flinched at his tone, brows pinched in anxiety.

"I'm sorry, I was trying to run here to be on time and...I bumped into someone and caused another mess. I cleaned it up though! So it's no worries!" She reassured, waving her hands around in an attempt to placate his wrath. She tried to smile even when the atmosphere began to grow cold, something that irritated the man even more.

"Another one? How many has that been today?" He asked angrily, his claws just barely scratching into the wood of his desk. Her scent was driving him mad, he had to keep his mind off of it by directing his growing frustrations onto her.

The woman flinched again, fear rising within her. While she was used to being scolded, this kind of anger aimed towards her was new and frightening. At most the wolf was only ever annoyed or frustrated, but now she felt like she was about to be eaten alive.

"It seems you need another lesson." He said, suddenly calm. At least what she thought was calm, but at meeting his eyes once again all she could see was unbridled anger. Along with something else she couldn't discern. As he stood she froze in place, her hands gripping onto her skirt tightly her knuckles almost turned white. The two kept eye contact as the large man walked his way around his desk, ignoring the claw marks, before standing directly in front of the woman. "We've had this conversation so many times, but it seems you're not getting it.”

"I-I'm sorry Sir! I'll do better, I promise!” She begged, straining her neck to look up at him. While she wasn't that short, she always had a hard time not cramping her neck whenever she had to look at Lycaon. She shivered under his gaze, steeling her nerves so she wouldn't step back in fear. While she is able to handle most things, right now it almost felt like she was prey staring into the face of a predator. “Really I will.”

“You say that…” He started, before suddenly growling with a ferocity that terrified her. She suddenly backed up, her mind running over what options she had, before her back ran into the door behind her. She quickly turned around, her flight instincts blaring danger in her head, attempting to open the door before she felt hands slam onto the surface beside her. Frozen in place she could only be aware of her thoughts screaming at her to run, before it all stopped when she felt his breath hit her neck. “And yet you never seem to improve.”

Lycaon can only berate himself as his own body had seemed to be taken over by his instincts. Just the sight of her looking up at him with her wide eyes had made him mad, he couldn't stop himself from wanting to be closer to her. Her scent was overriding his sense of smell, the feel of her shaking in fear under him was embarrassingly delicious. He didn't think of himself to be cruel, and yet he relished in her fear. His hands were shaking against the door, claws scratching at the surface while he barely tried to reign in himself.

“Do you even know how much you irritate me? How annoying it is to have to have these talks with you every damn week?” He growled out, his nose brushing against her hair as he spoke. His claws dug deeper into the wooden surface as he tried to keep himself from touching her with them. He knew if he did that he couldn't go back, he wouldn't be able to hold himself together like he barely is at this moment. His sharp ears heard her gasp as the sound of wood splitting rang out. “Do you even know how hard it is to keep myself contained with that smell of yours?”

“I-”

“Shut up.” He brushed his teeth against the skin of her neck, groaning as he heard her whimper in fear. But what also caught his attention was that her scent somehow became even more potent, making him realize something. He slowly released his hands from the wooden surface, giving them a quick glance for any potential splinters, before dropping to his knees. His hands lifted up her skirt, releasing an enormous wave of her scent. He quickly moved his face closer to her, his nose brushing against her core.

“S-Sir!” She yelped, her hands moving to try and move him away before he could realize. But she stopped when he heard him growl, ordering her to stay in place. Understanding he figured out how she was suddenly turned on by the sudden turn of events, she obeyed his order. She stared at the patterns of the wood, trying to keep her mind off the fact that her superior was suddenly sniffing her like a horny animal. Not that she minded too much, as she had developed a small crush on him since gaining her job at the company.

“Lesson one, speak when spoken to.” He said, his hands gently caressing her thighs as he nudged them to spread apart.

“B-But-”

“Quiet.” He ordered, before pressing his nose against her once more. He could feel his entire body shiver as the woman's scent flooded his senses. His ears could pick up the noises she tried to repress, causing him to huff in amusement. He used one hand to move the thin fabric that separated him from her bare skin aside, making it possible to place his long tongue along her folds.

“Ah! S-Sir wait-”

“I said, be quiet.” He grunted, adding a growl to emphasize his order. He felt her freeze from his tone as he swiped his tongue over her once more. The taste that spread on his tongue was like heaven to him, completely making him forget the world around him as he pushed his face deeper to taste more.

As his tongue entered her, her hands quickly flew to cover her mouth to prevent any noises from escaping. Her forehead leaned against the door as she tried to even out her breathing, her legs began to shake as she felt his tongue reach deeper. She could feel his hands gripping tighten as a way to keep her still, his claws digging into her skin in a way that brought no pain to her.

Soon she began to feel that familiar coil within her tighten, causing her to grip onto her face harden. She could feel his tongue quicken its pace as her walls constricted, her whole body shook as she felt that coil ready to burst. Only to be met with a sudden emptiness causing her to quickly turn her head around to see him stand up. She wanted to ask why he stopped, before she suddenly was lifted into the air. Squealing at the movement, she wiggled in his grip before she found herself placed onto one of the plush chairs. After blinking a bit to understand what had happened, she looked up to see his piercing red eye staring down back at her.

“Lesson two, all employees must fulfill their tasks with perfect proficiency.” Lycaon barely spoke, adjusting his belt before pushing down his slacks to reveal his hardening member. Her eyes widened in surprise as she took in his size, her thighs squeezing together in both mild fear and anticipation. Wordlessly she adjusted herself in the seat and hesitantly wrapped one hand around him, slowly moving it along the shaft. She closed her eyes in embarrassment, but a gentle began to pet her head, making her meet his eyes once more. “Just relax.”

His voice was very gentle, putting her in a shock before she could realize he removed her hand and pressed the head of his cock against her slightly parted lips. She almost jumped at the contact before that hand gripped her hair to keep her in place. The low growl he released was the only warning he would give her. Shivering she widened her opened mouth and slowly gave small licks, earning a hum in approval. Soon she leaned forward, bringing the head into her mouth and sucking. Her hands were gripping onto the skirt of her uniform, knuckles turning white as she tried her best to keep her mouth wide enough to accommodate his size.

Quickly the thirian took charge and began to move his hips slowly, pushing his length further and further down her throat. As time went on his pace became rougher and faster, causing tears to start welling in her eyes. But she made no complaint, only kept her eyes shut as she focused on breathing through her nose. Embarrassingly she could feel the spot on the cushion seat below her become damp, making her whine against him. Though she could barely hear herself over the growls the man was releasing. Soon she could feel him pulsate against her tongue, but before he could cum, he released himself from her mouth.

Before she could question anything, she suddenly felt him grab her by the waist and all but slam her onto the desk. But nothing happened, he only stared into her eyes. It’s as if he was hesitant to do anything else, his claws gripping onto with the same intensity as earlier. The two stayed in their fixed position before one finally spoke.

“Do you want this?” The words barely came out of the thirian, more so only able to leave past his lips with his pants.

“W-What?”

“I’m asking if you truly want this, because if this goes further then we can’t go back.” He slowly explains, like he was in a daze.

“Oh…” She blinks, her muddled brain struggling to fully comprehend what he was saying. But once it settled itself within her thoughts did all the muddiness completely disappear. “O-Oh! Y-Yeah I am! I’ve uh…”

Her face flushes as she attempts to get her thoughts in order. “I’ve already…had some feelings for you so…if you don’t-eep!”

His lips slam onto hers, interrupting her words. She lets out a surprised squeal, tensing in his grip, before relaxing and wrapping her arms around his neck. She moaned as his tongue explored her mouth, swallowing her noises as he reached one hand to rub circles around her clit. Soon she felt the tip of his cock nudge at her entrance, causing her to tense once more.

“Relax.” She could barely hear him say as he slowly thrust himself inside. Her insides almost felt like they were on fire from the sheer intense heat of his length. When he finally completely filled her, tears were running down her face as she tried not to move and adjust. Lycaon trailed soft kisses all over her face as he waited for her to give the go ahead. Soon she began to relax, leaning her head against his shoulder.

Reading her body languages, Lycaon began to move his hips at a slow pace. He closed his eyes as he concentrated on not losing control, the way he could only smell her scent and the fact it was all over him made him almost go insane. The one hand still holding onto the desk tightened around the wood, close to splinting it like what he did with the wall earlier. He had moved his other hand to her clothed waist, keeping her in place as soon began to speed up. Her whines rang out of the room, adding fuel to the fire of his loosening restraint.

As he focused on controlling his instincts, he somehow didn’t notice her fingers settling into the fur at the back of his neck. She gave it a quick pull, not too harsh to pull out any fur, making him groan in pain. He opened his eyes to meet her own, glaring down at her intensely. He leaned down, growling out harsh words of disapproval. But the lustful gleam he saw in her eyes and her whiny begging was what finally drove him to let go. Slamming his hips against hers with wild abandonment, his teeth gently biting at the exposed skin of her neck while his hands grabbed onto her legs to move them on top of his shoulders.

He was taking it all in, the sound of her moans and high pitch screams, the taste of her sweat and tears on his tongue, and the smell of their scents mingling together along with the growing smell of sex. He even could hear his own groans and growls, though his focus moved quickly to the feeling of his swelling knot enlarging. His instincts were urging him to push it in right this instant, but he had some restraint left to wait.

Meanwhile she was overwhelmed by his rough pace, tears flowing down her face as she was slammed with wave after wave of pleasure. She could barely think, her mind only focused on the feeling of him filling her to the brim. But soon she could feel that familiar coil within her, tightening at such an alarming rate. Her voice began to break as it reached a higher pitch than her vocal cords were able to handle, her hands clutching onto his fur in search of anything to stabilize herself. She tried to let any words out, but was once more interrupted by him kissing her. She could only moan into his mouth as she felt something bigger push into her. Her eyes widened in shock as his knot was thrusted in, her body tensing and squirming as the rush of pleasure flooded her veins once more. Released from the kiss, she could only whine as her insides were filled with his hot seed.

“Wait.” He said, gently keeping her in place as she squirmed. “Give it a few minutes.”

She nodded in response, having no energy for words. He chuckled at that, amused at her state. Once he was able to remove himself, he shushed her as she whined from the loss. She could feel her eyelids growing heavy, as her body finally relaxed after everything. She barely felt him move her to sit back in the chair she had stained, hearing him whisper about returning with cleaning rags and other necessary items. She wasn't able to respond before sleep finally overtook her.

She wasn't able to see the soft he gave her, nor did she even realize he had kissed her forehead. He quickly made himself suitable again before quietly leaving through the door, locking it to make sure no one would walk in on the mess he had to clean up. Though he's sure he would walk into an even bigger mess once the woman wakes up and tries to clean. But he isn't too upset about that fact now.

Since it just means he has an opportunity to teach her another “lesson.”

#zenless zone zero x reader #von lycaon x reader #pillow talks #anon i know who you are and i will strangle you for making me write this #WHY MUST YOU HIT ME AT MY WEAKNESS

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ooogaboogabeepbop · 11 months ago

Text

The Ball

(Image is NOT mine, it’s from Kate Kotova’s YouTube Community.)

Astarion x F!reader

Word count: A LOOOTTT

First time writing so please give any constructive criticism. Tell me if Astarion is out of character or whatnot. Here I wanted him to be pretty frustrated so he’s rougher than usual. PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS.

Summary: You were getting ready for a ball until Astarion randomly fucks you into oblivion.

Warnings: use of gross words, cervix fucking, VERY rough sex, extreme discomfort, neediness, blood, ruined makeup, anger, cnc, pain, tears, ripping of clothing, weird inconsistent pov, scent, breeding kink, cringe writing, past trauma, voyerism, harsh choking, lots of eye rolling, short sentences, regret

——————-

The edge of the drawer dug into your ribs harshly and the pain was becoming intolerable. Your palms flat against the waxed wood, pushing against the weight behind you. You winced when the figure behind pressed harder into you, being far from comfortable. It was like talking to a brick wall when you opened your mouth to speak. He was stuck in a deep trance involving your scent, and the unsteady beating of your heart. All he could hear was the hammering of the pulse and you smelled and looked absolutely amazing. Beyond amazing. Astounding. The way your dress fitted you perfectly. Breasts threaten to burst out of the dress, almost overflowing from the top. Your cleavage being the most prominent part of your whole get up, other than the accessories. The dress was white with laces on the rim surrounding your breasts, and on the end of your clothing as well. The outfit shimmered and was made to stand out from the others in the ball. The jewelry was what really stole the show though, dangle earrings, waist chain over the fancy fabric, bracelet, and a pearled necklace. You were adorned head to toe, your beauty would stun the crowd. Yet Astarion has you here, secured in his grip. It’s like he didn’t want anyone to see you in such a glamorous outfit. Someone could steal you away. It has been a while since Astarion initiated such intimate touching. With his view on sex tainted, you withheld from being inappropriate in any way. Worried about scaring him away, or reminding him of anything unpleasant. You stuck to loving words and affections that he so eagerly accepted and appreciated. The man was madly in love, and you, yourself. You showered him in so much care that it perplexed him. He only imagined or dreamed of being looked out for during years of hell, and never thought that it would actually come to fruition.

His nose and lips firmly pressed against your neck, providing soft kisses here and there. Cold breath sends shivers through your body. It was like a chilly winter breeze, making your hair stand. The kisses were sloppy, leaving small trails of saliva up and down your throat. You had an expensive perfume on, a bitter flavor to the tongue that he did not seem to mind. Too engrossed in this moment to care, wanting to feel and taste more. Maybe he liked the combination of the perfume and the flavor of your skin. Grabbing the arm that was locked around your waist, you squeeze, giving him a small warning to stop. The ball had already started, he promised to take you out dancing and flaunt your beauty to everyone there and show that you were his. It appears he regretted this decision. You were excited to sway and spin, to be close to him and your companions. You longed to see the others and the others wanted to see you too. You wanted to see the lights and the decorations. To see just how fancy the place was.

“I want to greet everyone.” You say, with his arms still locked around you. You tried excusing yourself to not remind him of ugly recollections. Trying not to have him cringe in disgust at any possible moment. Even with all of his confessions, he still held 200 years of secrets and uncomfortable experience that he was not willing to share. His coldness migrated behind your ear, hearing his sharp inhale. Very touchy this evening. What has him so worked up? Was he okay?

“They will see you soon enough, my love. Be patient.” He assured whilst rubbing his face against you, groaning, trying to lock in all of your musk mixed with perfume. He was ravenous. Mouth agape. A strong hand traced your left arm all the way up to your shoulder, and flipped the few wisps of your hair to the other side. Kisses now traced your jaw. Lips dry and chapped, moisture gone from the smooches. You could see the white curls come into view. Body flush against yours like a mold. Pale hands gripping your waist harshly and angling them to have the curve of your ass on his groin. “You look like an absolute treat tonight.” You could feel how each roughened finger dug deep to the point of almost hurting. Oh how you loved this. You missed his touch. Whether it be soft or hard, you still managed to enjoy yourself. Every movement made warmth course through you. Unexpectedly, he pricked your skin with one singular fang and licked the sweet red bead that came out with a sigh. Driving him crazy. Cool tongue teasing the sharp pain.

You grabbed the curls and ripped his lips off you.

“How about you be patient?” Your grip was firm, hurting his sensitive scalp. He hissed and even dared to flashed his fangs at you.

“You are hurting me.” You say bitterly. He presses less of his weight against you, letting you finally breathe better. But still being sandwiched between him and the drawer caused a sting.

“Still hurting me…”

He reluctantly pulls back, not much, but enough to keep the edge of the drawer from biting at your skin.

“I am starving—“ Words nothing but a whisper.

“I can tell.”

“Well be a dear, and give me just one bite?” He asked with honeyed words and puppy eyes.

“It’s never just one bite with you, Star.”

His hands roamed your body through your white dress, pawing at your breast, then down in between your thighs. The dress being an annoying obstacle.

“Oh how I missed you.” He sighs. You giggle at his words while you twirl a strand in your finger. It has not been long at all. He was quite literally in the other room while you did your makeup. And before that, both of you organized and planned your outfits for the day of the party together. You look over your shoulder with a smirk and a raised brow.

“Star, I was simply getting ready for the ball. I won’t take much longer.” You take a glimpse at his attire. All white, matching yours. The turtle neck, the colors, the swirls and patterns of his suit were all beautiful. Just like him. The shoulder pads that pronounced his shoulders. And his broad chest. You wanted to run your hands up and down his muscular figure but he firmly held you locked in place. He leaned into you again, though not as hard as before, your back arching to accommodate his body. Grinding on your bum. Noticing just how steel hard he was, your knees shook and your heels almost gave out.

“One bite? It won’t take long, love.” The man was hungry despite being fed the day before.

“Yes.” He immediately dives in and pierces your jugular. Fangs cause a sharp sting that makes you flinch. He will feed, then the two of you can finally go to the ball. Not wanting to suck you dry, he took shallow gulps. A moan rumbled from his chest and it vibrated through you. Astarion looked so hot with his composure uncharacteristically broken. The blood dribbling from the puncture being the sweetest he's ever savored. It was like some form of drug. Astarion’s favorite medicine. Faint whines of his satisfaction adding to the wetness below. You could see his brows knit together in concentration from the corner of your eye. Savoring you. He continued to rub your cunt through your dress while your hips circled to increase the pace that was set. He was too distracted to notice the teasingly slow speed of his fingers. Or maybe not. Perhaps he was deliberately trying to drive you insane. The friction of your panties and dress mixed with his talented digits made your clit throb. Your hand pushed his down, trying to create more traction to satisfy your need. Your hips still managed to gyrate even under his hold, rubbing right up on his erection. You moved faster against him, earning a whine from your vampire's throat. The hard rod pressed to your bum had you yearning for more. He kept moaning. Large pale hands traveled up to the very start of your dress and roughly pulled down, ripping the clothing and bra with it. The initial sound of the rippage filling the room with its sheer force. You shrieked as your tits suddenly jumped out of its confinements. Bouncing from its vicious release. Soft and supple skin, round and pretty nipples. Your outfit is in complete tatters.

“Astarion!” You shouted. Visibly upset. Such a beautiful dress put to waste. You waited months for this dress to be tailored, for its patterns and shimmers to be suited into it. So happy to try it on, so happy the way it hugged your curves when you got your hands on it. You attempted to turn to scold the ever living shit out of him but he held you in place with his strength. “Ugh!” You leered down at the irreversible mess and felt your face grow hot with rage. Then you looked into the mirror at the sight. Your nipples out in the open. How you wished to see him behind you, to see the dark and lustful red eyes looking deep into yours. What's gotten him so wild? Shifting his gaze towards your tits through the mirror, he moaned at the view of you. Quickly moving his palms onto your plump flesh; his big hands dwarfing both mounds. Astarion squeezed and played to his heart's desire and all you did was watch. Pliant skin caving and yielding. You were angry, livid, exasperated but… when was the last time he’s sought you out to touch you so sensually? When was the last time he felt okay with pleasure? You would put your anger aside, albeit begrudgingly, for this rare occasion. You were gonna give him hell afterwards though. Have him pay for the dress AGAIN and some complaining. It felt amazing, having him play, grope, and gently dig his fingers in. Savoring you. Passionately massaging them. You were upset. So upset. But you loved the touch. He was disorganized and chaotic which was so uncommon of him. Eventually, once you’ve calmed, your hands combine with his large ones, joining in on the fun. Then you realized something. The door to the room was open. Your head swirled to its direction and you were able to hear the distant chatter. Terror took a hold of you.

“Star. Stop. They will see.” Your concerns meant nothing to him though even when you pushed. He was too lost in you to even care. A huff was his only response. His fangs soon left you and he raised his head to nip at your ear. The blood from the wound seeped into your pearled necklace.

“I am being serious.” He grabbed your face, the skin indenting in his strong grip, and turned it enough to give you a searing kiss. The smooch was slippery from the gloss and the lipstick stained him, mixing with the blood he took from you. You sighed at the way his lips pressed upon yours. He parted his lips and snaked his tongue in your mouth, drawing an obscene moan as you unhinged your jaw for him. The blend of lipstick, gloss, blood, and the perfume he kissed off was rather tart. You opened your eyes and looked into the mirror. You looked so lewd. Both of you panted into the kiss. His left hand still played with your breast. His right hand grabbed yours and placed it flat against the wood, fingers interlocking. Astarion abandoned your mouth and licked long strides up your neck, cleaning the remaining blood then proceeded to give more pecks to it.

“What is this all about, Star?”

“I simply crave you little love. Is that so bad?”

“You ruined my dress. It was so glamorous…I waited months for this you damned bastard.”

“I’ll have another one made, my treasure.” He did not seem phased by your anger. The glam clothing was being pulled and balled up, enough to show your plush thighs. Wearing stockings and lingerie underneath. You half expected to fuck, just not so early.

“My, my. What’s this all about, dear?” He repeated your question from earlier as nimble fingers ran along the stockings. You blushed deeply at his words. Hands fixed on your butt. Delicately rubbing.

“Astarion, the door. Least close the door.” He pushed your face against the drawer, and raised the rest of your dress, showing your pretty ass. The fabric laid right above your hips. He slapped it hard. Another one came after that with full force. The sting was so intense tears began to form. No, you were not going to cry with how much effort you put into your makeup. He grumbled at your request.

“Not a chance. Where else will I get my warmth from? Karlach? Lae’zel?” He tsked. Red marks adorned your bum now from the manhandling. Blood rushing and heating the stinging flesh.

The warmth radiating onto his icy palms pleased him as it made a nice contrast. “You know, It gets quite cold being undead, darling.” Pouting as he feigned sadness.

“I will still be here once you come back. It's just mere feets away! Plus I'm sure Karlach wouldn't mind sharing her never ending heat.”

“Ah, but that would be no fun. Truthfully, the possible thrill of being caught excites me to no end…and I believe it does the very same to you too, darling.” He said, slipping the panties to the side to expose you. “I can tell just by your heartbeat.” He murmured. You purred when his rough thumb slithered up and down your wet slit. You sway your waist to taunt his desire. Without warning, he soon rooted two digits deep inside to prepare you to fuck hard. The sudden intrusion caused you to bite your lip. He grazed and memorized each ridge of your soggy cunt, especially the spongy part. You grinded in tandem to his fingers but it wasn’t enough.

“Then please, hurry up.” you whimper. He hummed.

“Since you asked nicely.” He caressed the bud halfheartedly. Swiftly he lost interest then pulled his fingers out. You could hear the belt buckle and his pants unfasten.

He slid all the way into your gummy walls with a loud hiss. You felt incredibly full, so stretched out and already worn from his dick. Cunt squeezing and contracting, trying to adjust to the fullness. You were so overwhelmed that it made you dizzy. Your pussy ravenously swallowed his thick dick which was not helping with your lightheadedness. The tip of his cock snuggling your cervix, causing your knees to weaken.Good thing he was holding you up. There was an impossibly deep, deep want inside your walls that set you ablaze. The feeling so intense your legs wobbled more. The desire was gut wrenching, so powerful and desperately needed his cock. He was fully sheathed but it was not enough. You needed him to move, drag and stroke himself along slick walls. Your clit throbbed. Placing your fingers onto the bundle of nerves you spun quick circles that briefly had your eyes roll. You couldn’t wait anymore and began to throw yourself back on him, forcing a garbled moan out of him. Both of you needed to get this over with fast. Cursing yourself for falling into your own desires as easily as he did. All he had to do was close the door but no. He loves risks and this situation made his dick painfully hard for him. What is pleasure without a little pain? You imagined him saying. He observed you like a hawk, watching you fuck yourself. Hearing him gulp then heave faster. His mouth was open, curls misplaced (from his usual hairdo), and brows knitted together again… A deafening laughter came from the halls when you began to panic. You stopped to peer at the cracked open door. He tightly grabbed onto your waist and pressed his thumbs into your back dimples, treating them as thumb holders. The first thrust was hard. You were caught off guard when your body lunged forward, causing objects to fall from the desk you leaned on. The laughing paused. Then the next one was even harder. He barely even started and tears began to sting in your eyes. His hair now falling towards his face, ruining his perfect pomade. Each movement he made, his locks swiftly followed. You felt the way his cock hauled to and fro. He knew how tight and warm you were but it always left him in shambles. Your walls clenched, subduing his bulging veins, and molding his dick on each thrust. He wanted to cum. He wanted to be deeper. He wanted to be one with you. Anxiety was through the roof but, thankfully, the people accompanying the halls continued with their conversation. All your attention was on the door where all the sounds originated from. The pace changed as you tried to listen for any footsteps.

Then all of a sudden he trembled and went stiff. He placed his chest against you for leverage. Lowering his head, listening how each breath was a struggle for him. You could see his wet curls in your peripheral vision. You turned your head to look.

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?” You asked with genuine fear in your heart. Endless questions began to flood in your head. What if he didn’t want it? What if he regretted this decision? What if a bad memory was prompted? Was he disgusted by the thoughts of long ago?

“I’m close.” He choked out, “I need you to come first.” You found yourself relieved that he wasn’t uncomfortable. He was far from it. He withheld his own pleasure though, choosing to serve you before anything else. Being used to lifelong servitude and to pleasing others, it was only natural to him. This was going to change eventually. Astarion was walking on a thin line and quickly losing his balance. It took all his will and power just not to cum deep in your womb. He was right on the edge, so close all he needed was a push. You whined and wiggled your hips.

“Do not move.” He ordered, cock violently twitching inside you and mouth pulled into a snarl.

“Just cum!” You could see his head shake from the corner of your vision, “please!” You lifted your face from the drawer and held onto the wood the best you could. Your hips snapped back into him. He threw his head back and groaned loudly as if it pained him.

“Please, please, please, please!” You continued to beg. He was seconds from bursting just from your pleading. Your manicured nails drove deep marks on the drawer and the mirror began to shake back and forth. Your rapid breath fogged up the reflection in front of you and blocked the view. You kept going faster. Your earrings swayed back and forth with all the movement, along with your long necklace that was repeatedly bumping against your breasts. His whole body weight was on you now, ceasing your thrusts, and he placed himself deep inside. The drawer was back to painfully jabbing at you and it kept you from breathing properly. And whatever air trapped in your lungs was forced out of you when he rammed into you one last time. His cockhead glued to your cervix when he blew his fat load into you. His eyes went wide. Hair completely down. He looked like he was dying and ascending at the same time then damn near screamed.

He leaned back to give your aching bones some rest with a sweaty forehead against your shoulder. He was groaning even past his orgasm. You reached up to caress him.

“My star. I really wanted to go to the ball.” You sigh. He held onto your breasts again and pinched your nipples. “Are you not done?” Your makeup was ruined and so was your dress. You didn’t even get to cum either. But that was okay, as long as he relished in himself for once.

“Not quite. I’m sorry, darling. I’m sure there’s a spare dress.” He lifted his head and applied soft kisses to your cheeks

“Star, I really liked this dress.”

“I am sorry, my treasure.”

“This occasion was important to me.”

“I’m sorry…” It’s not often he would apologize. “Please, one more…” He sounded so weak and shattered. His head against your back just huffing and puffing. He held onto your waist, lovingly running with thick fingers down your exposed skin. Your skin was squishy compared to his rough finger pads. He was still hard and deep within you, his tip still cuddling your cervix. Another sigh escaped your lips, and you felt your clit throb again. Still unsatisfied. Your eyebrows arched upwards at the sensation. He wanted more and so did you. He felt so good just being seated inside you with his cum seeping out of you, most likely staining his pants and traveling down his balls. You could feel the stretch his thick dick provided to your abused walls. The same familiar feeling of want was still coiled up within, you needed release so badly. You wanted him to fuck it out of you. You bit your lip and looked into the mirror. Pretending to see his own reflection standing behind you. The thought of it made you clamp down on him and you both moaned. You turned your head and looked into his cat-like eyes. His broken voice did not match the way he was glaring at you. Seeming possessive.

Astarion pressed your back against his chest and your lips instinctively pressed on his jaw when he did so. When he pulled out, you could feel his cum spill between your thighs. Must’ve been very pent up. He moved his hand up towards the torn dress that was clinging to your hips, and tried to pass it down your legs, but the waist chain kept it from doing so. He ripped the pearled chain, and the beads fell onto the floor with the dress itself. The torn material was a tripping hazard that pooled around your feet. You didn’t even try to express your anger since he wouldn’t have acknowledged it. The only clothing you had on was the lace panties, the stockings, the jewelry, and your high heels. The vampire behind you was still completely clothed. You could still sense his icy coolness even through the layers of his attire. Your slim hand went down to begin playing with your clit.

His arm wrapped around your waist as the other slid his dick back inside you. Your pussy welcomed him hungrily. Your other hand grabbed onto his strong forearm as he began his thrusts. You kissed his jaw and cheeks, staining them a nice red with the remaining pigment you had on your lips. Astarion shut his eyes for a brief moment, cherishing in your care. He felt overwhelmed with love and lust. He had no idea how to express it. You were the best thing that’s happened to him. Finally someone who would put him first. Providing him soft affection and kind words even when he thought he didn’t deserve it. Being treated so kindly angered him in a way. The way you kissed him was so gentle compared to the way he was fucking you. Astarion felt guilty for rutting into you so harshly, but he couldn’t contain what he was feeling. Whatever that feeling was.

He looked down to watch as you played with yourself. Seeing your hand movements down between your breasts. Each thrust had them bounce. Your mascara ran down your flushed cheeks as your lipstick smeared against your chin and nose. Your eyeshadow and liner was smudged as well. It was all a mess and he loved it. He loved this. He loved you. Something so beautiful ravaged by him. Astarion kept going and wouldn’t stop; he couldn't. Not with the way your walls eagerly swallowed him. How it would squeeze down on him everytime he pulled back, asking him not to leave. You were velvety, tight, and wet. Feeling every ridge and every flutter. Felt your legs shake and wobble. He sensed how you would progressively compress on him the closer you got. Barely even able to shove himself fully into you. The tip kept hitting that perfect spot, the spot that had your eyes rolling and he kept striking and beating it devastatingly fast. You stopped kissing him, having a hard time breathing through the vicious motions. You can’t think. Everything was a blur and you felt dizzy. Your pretty nails dug into his forearm without a care in the world. The sound of your hips meeting was far too loud, anyone with ears would be able to listen. You tried your best to stay quiet, but the hits Astarion kept giving was blowing your cover. The slapping was loud, the way the desk rumbled was loud, the way the mirror shook was loud and each time it trembled it would hit the wall. You hoped the music was deafening enough to muffle everything while he was giving you a throrough fuck. Completely surrendering yourself to him. Taking him so well. Your hair was all over your face now, whisps sticking to sweat, to tears, and to gloss. The edge of the drawer was pinching the hand that was between your legs and it hurt, squishing your arm. Astarion began to lean forwards now which made it even worse making your nails dig deeper into his sleeved arm to brace yourself. He was never this rough before. One hand came up and moved your hair out of the way to smooch you.

“Good pet.” He whispered rasply. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. He bended further into you. Not only did the drawer now hurt your arm but it went back to crushing your ribs. You were on your tippy toes from the positioning and positive that your heels were breaking. Your fingers rubbed quick circles on your clit while he plowed through you, which had a sob escape you. You’ve been trying to keep quiet. Despite the other ruckus the both of you have been doing, the last thing you wanted was someone hearing you delighting yourself in such a publicly debauched way. He himself wasn’t holding back though. Anyone would be able to hear him panting. You were doing this to him. It all felt so wrong but it only further encouraged the throbbing in your core. He let a long, pained groan go while baring his teeth. The sharp fangs gleamed in the light as he slowly glided his tongue over them. He was frustrated and wanted this to last longer.

“Gonna cum again?” You tease.

“Yes.” His eyes were wide now as he slammed in. He looked crazed. Like a rabid animal chasing his own high. White silver hair framing his sculpted features. Red orbs peering through the strands. He was actually enjoying himself. Actually enjoying sex without the weight of his past bearing down on him. That realization made you gush. Eyes rolling as you felt his (previous) cum and wetness drip down your ankles.

“Yeah?” You coo.

“Yes.”

“Then do it. Fuck your child into me. Do it. Fuck me.” You said through gritted teeth. You didn’t mean for it to sound like a command and it made your heart drop the second those words left your mouth. You could only hope at the moment that he was okay with it. You were going to apologize until he jerked your hair back and forced your face upwards. Unleashing something primal the second you finished that sentence. He wanted you to bear his child even if it was an impossible feat. Astarion hates kids but the thought drove him mad and he was willing to give you everything you desired. He kept pulling until you were able to look into his red eyes. Towering over you. You could see just how deranged he appeared. Consumed by passion. The insatiable hunger that radiated off his cold body was intoxicating. Your back was impossibly arched now and you felt like you were gonna snap in half. Even more so whenever he bucked his hips. The severe pain on your arm made you abandon your needy clit.

“Yeah? Like that, darling? Huh? Just like that?” You couldn’t say a word. Not one. The ache in your ribs, back, scalp and neck was intolerable but you needed him to cum. To not care about anything else but his own pleasure. You could feel his dick pummeling through your guts and mistreating your cervix. Somehow you were still reaching your high.

“This is what you want? Huh? Yes? No? Tell me.” He spoke but it didn’t mean anything. All words lost their meaning. Astarion was fucking your brains out. The heels broke under his ministrations. He was wrecking everything. Your vision went blurry from the tears, they kept spilling and wouldn’t stop. You were going to cum crying. You were gonna cum just like this.

“So cockdumb you can’t even answer me?” The eye contact was driving you both crazy. The view he had was so fucking hot you wouldn’t believe it. His cum stained balls smacking your clit with each hit. You grounded your cunt against him just to grind your clit against his balls and you rolled your hips for more. Finally your bundle of nerves was getting the attention it deserved. Your mouth was open, spilling silent cries when your eyes moved to the back of your head. No longer able to stare into his blown pupils. He gruffed in anger and grabbed you by the throat instead of your hair.

“Look at me.” He told you as his hand squeezed ruthlessly. You listened. “There you go, my sweet little treat. You’re taking me so well.” Astarion smiled down at you villainously, teeth white and shiny. Silver hair all over the place. Eyes manic. He was fucking mental. Juices flowed down as you came, If his pants were not ruined before, it was ruined now. You came looking deep into his soul, violently trembling and jolting in snapped heels. You needed to scream but couldn't because of the choking. Mouth opened and closed for air. The tear soaked makeup slightly burned when it slipped into your eyes. Veins pulsing the best it could despite the blockade Astarion’s ivory hands gave. Your head was hurting and thumping and your palms laid on what was in front for any form of support. Once again your nails worked itself into the wooden drawer leaving behind more horrible marks in its wake.

Astarion fucked your beaten pussy past your orgasm. Back being all sorts of blown out. Your walls were milking his dick and balls, begging for his seed to flood your womb and hoping to knock you up. It made him grip your throat even tighter. Your Adam’s apple tried bobbing up and down to swallow up any breath you could seek. In his point of view your face was a light scarlet because of the lack of oxygen, with a vein protruding from your forehead. Him mistreating you, and you letting him sent shivers up his spine. He let go once your vision almost faded and blurred, then brutally drove his fangs into your neck. You gasped for air when he unclasped, somewhat because of the sudden pain and mostly because of the choking. Having large amounts of air fill your lungs helped you regain vision. The mirror was no longer foggy and you could get a good view of the situation. You were in tatters. Hair. Makeup. Outfit. Embarrassment creeped in with just how fucked out and shameless you seemed. Is this what you really looked like? Or was the mirror playing tricks? Is this what Astarion has been seeing this whole time? How depraved and disgusting. He loved the view though. Your jewelry, tits, and locks kept moving with the thrusts. But with the aggressive and speedy drinking, your sight would blur up in no time. And with your desperate breathing, the mirror would soon fog up again. The tang in your blood was sweeter than before and his fangs pushed further in to drain you better. Astarion was properly feeding this time and didn’t hold back in greedily sucking you up. Every muscle was sore and you were surely going to pass out. Then the taste of euphoria in your blood made him burst. Abruptly grabbing onto your breast, his yell was muffled since his teeth were still latched. He jerked with each rope of cum he shot into you. The tip probing and nuzzling your spent cervix. You let out a long moan when he started filling you to the brim a second time.

“Fuck. I'm sorry…” Astarion wiped your tears away when he came to his senses. Heavy pants mixing together. Your body was in horrible pain and limp but you felt joy in bringing him pleasure. He nuzzled you while skimming his fingers on the dark bruises kindly. “I’m so sorry darling. I don’t know what possessed me. I’ll make it up to you… what do you want to eat? I’ll bring food to you.” The marks on your neck began to show and he felt intense regret. How could he lose himself like this? How could he treat you this way? To someone he loved and appreciated so vastly? “Please forgive me, my love.” He said, fear in his trembling voice. He fucked up badly.

“Gods…” he whispered. You slumped onto the desk. Astarion was going to be hellbent on compensating you for the harm he had done.

“Did you enjoy yourself?”

“Well, yes, but—“

“Then it’s okay.”

“No. It is not okay. I am truly sorry. Do not try to validate my actions. I am so sorry about the ball, darling.”

“Yeah, you’re an asshole for tearing my dress and for breaking your promise to take me dancing.” You admitted as he embraced you. “But you can make it up to me by buying me a new dress. AND by giving me lots of cuddles. If you’re up for it.” You offer.

“Of course, my treasure, how could I say no?”

#astarion #astarion ancunin #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 tav #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion x you #smut #astarion x reader smut #astarion smut

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theradiostarr · 1 year ago

Text

⠀ ‧₊˚✩彡 how they have their way with you ♡

featuring: dazai, chuuya, fyodor

summary: what these bsd boys are like in bed <3

warnings/content: typical kinks (praise, degradation, asphyxiation, overstimulation, orgasm control, pet play?? kind of?? etc.), manipulation on fyodor’s part, gender neutral reader

DAZAI is selfless. you’re his reason for living, his belladonna. he’s calculating and precise, committing every twitch you make, every sound that leaves your saccharine lips to memory. a specific touch makes you squirm underneath him? he’s about to abuse that knowledge until you’re 1. screaming his name in overstimulation or 2. crying and whining for more.

he’s slow. whispering sweet degrading praises into your ear as he nibbles your neck. painting your collarbone with a myriad of purples and blues. he’d giggle at your astounded expression in the morning, claiming he simply couldn’t let such a pretty canvas go untouched.

petnames!! he has a silver tongue, weaving sweet phrases into every dirty sentence. we all know he loves “belladonna” but how about “lovely”, “my dove”, “pretty/handsome”, “sweetheart”

(he’ll also throw in some degrading, using words like my gorgeous slut or lovely whore to really push you over the edge)

he’s touchy. his hands wander your body with such delicate determination it makes you shiver. if your bodies have space to breathe what is the point? he wants to smother you, breathe in your humanity.

speaking of breathing, this man has a thing for asphyxiation and orgasm control. he is talented at torture, after all. he’ll bring you to the edge over and over again, hand wrapped deliciously around your throat where he knows it will send you to heaven.

he will also humiliate you- this man never shuts up. he’d love to watch you ride him until your legs are shaking pathetically, his hands gripping your hips as a hum leaves his throat.

“ah, you’re such a sight, bella. how does it feel? i bet i could make you cum with my words alone, such a pretty thing. don’t stop now, dove, the nights only just beginning~”

CHUUYA is a gentleman. he’d have the whole thing orchestrated to your every need to make sure you feel comfortable and safe. i’m talking flowers, wine (is it really chuuya without an expensive bottle of wine?), and hands that held you with such care it would make you giddy. he’s already lost so much, he couldn’t bare losing you as well.

he’d take his time. sometimes it would feel cruel just how long he’d take appreciating every part of your body, kissing down your nape, gripping your hips, licking a stripe down your chest, opening you up slowly just to hear all the lovely sounds you’d make. he’d prefer to be on top, catering to your every need, but if you want to ride him- like hell he’s saying no. to see his love bouncing on his cock, milking their own pleasure? he could watch you for hours. and when you come undone, he’ll be right there to catch you.

he loves seeing you in his choker, nothing else on your naked body. he gets off on the visual reminder that you are his. he would also rush to buy you many matching lingerie sets to pair it with- he is a man of taste after all. and how can he not when you look so ravishing?

and oh, the praise. he wants you to know how good you’re doing, how good you make him feel. he isn’t scared to be vocal, cursing at how well you take him, how every thrust makes your body jerk beneath him.

but he is a man with a short temper. he’d never dare raise a hand to you, but if you know the right things to say, boy you can get him going.

if you’re feeling bold, tug on his choker, grab his hair, bite his lip. he’ll scoff with a smirk, rolling his hips into yours, testing you to keep talking.

“oh yeah? i wonder how long you can keep talking, doll. you take me so well, let’s see how much more you can take before you’re sobbing on my cock.”

FYODOR is cruel. if you’re expecting this man to be sweet and accomodating, think again. i personally don’t think he’d have any interest in sex, he’d view the act as impure and a waste of time. however, if you amuse him, that’s a different story.

if he’s intrigued by you; your expressions, your mannerisms, your tone of voice, then it’s only fair he will want to see more. this man doesn’t think with his dick, much like dazai, he will uncover your weaknesses and exploit them.

he will restrict your movement, wringing noises out of you he can only akin to a masterpiece. holding your hands above your head he will force you to sing a melody rivalling his violin.

you are like a pet to him, he will stroke your hair softly before gripping it firmly. reminding you of your place. he’d smile deviously as his fingers pump in and out of you, reaching places you didn’t even know existed.

textbook manipulation. he’ll use sweet words to gaslight you and then fuck you hard into your sheets until all you can remember is him. you are like a bird inside a cage and unlike the clown Nikolai, you have no desire to be freed.

but be careful, the second you begin to bore him, or when he no longer needs you, he will discard you like the rest of his pawns. and really, did you truly believe he cared about you?

he will not be there when you wake up, but you will keep going back to him because that’s how he’s trained you.

“i taught you better than that, myshka. what happens to bad pets when they don’t do as they’re told? hm? on your knees, i think you need a reminder, darling….”

#bsd #bungou stray dogs #bsd smut #dazai x y/n #dazai x reader #chuuya x y/n #chuuya x reader #fyodor x y/n #fyodor x reader #bsd x reader #smut #smut headcanons

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jester-lover · 10 months ago

Note

Reverse of the ask where TWST bois pick the reader up: Reader is surprisingly strong and scoops *them* up.

I think the bigger the dude, the funnier, but Riddle’s reaction would be hilarious to me as well.

Somewhere in the distance, Ashton Vargas just found his new favorite student…

OG Post! Something similar for the Jack fans!

Buff Girlfriend Casually Lifting Them

Featuring! - Riddle, Jack, Malleus, Sebek

CWs/ Fem! Reader, fluff, humor

Riddle

“Unhand me at once!”

Riddle is shocked, appalled, and redder than a strawberry the second he feels you hook your hands under his knees and neck and pick him up like a bride. His hands immediately flail around and land around your shoulders, increasing his embarrassment tenfold.

His demands quiet down once the shock of the situation soaks in. His girlfriend is lifting him up and carrying him around like he weighs nothing. He has always been aware that you’re physically strong, but he didn’t know you were this strong!

Riddle usually won’t like being carried, but on the rare occasion, after a long day of school and his duties, he’ll ask for a piggyback ride back to his room. He’ll use a very standoffish tone while asking, but the way that he presses his head against the back of your shoulder lets you know he likes it.

Jack

He is so flabbergasted. Jack is in shock.

While he is aware that you’re into fitness—maybe the two of you even train together—he never knew you were this swole.

Jack is blushing; if you look close enough, his hands are shaking. He’s just realized he’s found the ideal woman for him—kind, gentle, who could break him in half like a pixie stick…

Bragging isn’t in his principles, but he might have to gloat a little bit with his track teammates when you’re literally running around with him thrown over your shoulder like a sack of potatoes. I mean, you’re not even exerting that much energy; he’s astounded!

Jack will (very quietly) ask for you to lift him again, just because he can’t believe it and he needs confirmation that he didn’t just make up the situation in his brain.

“Wanna join me for my morning run? It’ll be good cardio.”

Malleus

He’s getting the princess treatment. Very happy to know he’s your favorite lizard.

Since Malleus is very tall and imposing, he’s not used to such blatant displays of affection.

Having a physically stronger girlfriend would be a point of great pride for Malleus, particularly if you were a human, because then your strength would have been something you'd worked hard on. Something you’ve earned.

Being carried around is no problem for him; he may laugh a little at your strange human whimsy, but he happily agrees to being carried about at any time.

By any time, I mean any time. You could pick him up in the middle of a crowded campus hallway, and he’d just wrap his arms around you, place his head on your shoulder, and let you lead the way.

“Child of Man, be sure to drop me off at my alchemy class; perhaps I’ll let you pick me up and take me to Spelldrive Practice afterwords…”

Sebek

“How dare you, human!”

Sebek is appalled at the absolute gall you’ve got to have to do something so unabashedly romantic; don’t you see he’s too repressed for something so affectionate?

His face turns so red, and he tries to shake out of your ridiculously strong vice grip. Once he leaps off of you, get ready for an hour-long lecture. Sebek is shaking in his boots, explaining to you how inappropriate your actions were and how if you wanted his attention, there were better methods.

Midway through, he kind of realizes how hot it was that you were literally able to pick him up and carry him away like it was no problem, which makes Sebek quieter than you’ve ever seen him before, contemplating his words.

He quietly asks you to pick him up again because he wants to test your human endurance! (Ignore the way his eyes lock in on your defined shoulders, okay?)

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lenreli · 3 months ago

Text

i smile to you

[AO3]

Title from this song! :D

E, 1.5k. PWP featuring cockwarming. Also a bingo fill!

The night starts with Hob going to a concert, grinning brightly and mouthing along as the band, called Jinjer, performed, the lead woman vocalist with an astounding range―

And like so many times lately, the night ends with Dream and Hob falling into bed together, and Dream’s still amazed at this turn of events, after a century in cold glass, to feel the warmth of Hob’s touch. That Hob brings him to laughter and joy, the sensations almost alien, and Hob smiles and touches him gently, and Dream’s orgasm inside Hob is secondary to the way they’re touching, a rough yet gentle hand in hair as Hob gasps, joining him over the edge.

Dream has a split moment of sadness, as he moves slowly out of Hob―then a hand on his waist stops him, “no, stay,” Hob says, almost falling asleep as he moves around to bring Dream’s arms around his waist, fingers interlocking with his own. Dream pauses, blinking down at the other man, softening cock still inside as he plasters himself to Hob’s back, feeling Hob slip into the Dreaming.

“Inside?” He asks, patting the hair on Hob’s belly as he pushes his face into Hob’s shoulder.

“Mmhmm,” Hob answers, curling inside his arms even more with a pleased sigh and Dream stares at the soft skin in front of him, faint scars littered around the area. In all his many years, has never had this, always going on to the next act, or to his job, and he can’t quite fathom it, that Hob would want him inside in a way, still. And how much he enjoys it, something keeping anchored and warm.

Conjuring up a dark blanket to cover them, he marvels at the feeling, the constant warmth, closing the eyes of his Waking body to join his partner in the Dreaming.

After, he couldn’t help thinking about it. About maybe Hob being inside him, warming him up from the inside as he goes about his duties. Surely it would also be good the other way around? “I know that look,” Hob says and Dream looks away as Hob sits next to him, green sofa of Hob’s flat comfortable as it always is. Hob smiles and leans into his side, fingers coming up to twirl a black lock of his hair, “come on. My work’s done, we can do whatever you want now.”

Dream looks into Hob’s eyes, affection plain to see, and for all that Dream knows many ways he could phrase it, all the sentences at his disposal, he leans in to kiss him instead, Hob quickly kissing him back, hands on his shoulders as they slowly make their way to Hob’s room.

“On a mission today, huh,” Hob mutters between biting kisses, Dream’s hands pulling off the other’s clothes in the hallway to Hob’s room. “Mind sharing with me?” Hob asks, a hand coming up to caress his cheek, content to be pushed against the wall as Dream magicks the other’s socks off.

“No,” he answers, tugging Hob in by his belt-loops so he can bite down the other’s jaw, licking up the stubble of his throat as Hob laughs, the feeling of it under his tongue spurring him on to tug Hob into the bedroom.

“Not even a little?” Hob asks lightly, brown eyes bright as he sits on the bed, cock hard as Dream stares at him, fingers twitching at the miles of skin and hair ― though, he is on a mission today, so he only gives himself a few indulgent moments before sitting on Hob’s lap, the other’s hands coming up to his waist as his clothes vanish. “A hint?”

Tilting his head, Dream blinks as he puts a hand on Hob’s chest, gripping the hair ― and Hob’s hasn’t looked away from his face, and Hob makes a choked wheeze when Dream settles in the other’s lap, other hand going to guide Hob’s cock into his cunt, the warmth of it, the length of it making him moan.

“Dream,” Hob moans, fingers digging into his waist as he moves, Hob whimpering as he leaves him, and Dream shudders as takes Hob back in, the rhythm slow and making them both gasp. “Dream,” Hob croaks desperately, a hand tugging him down by his hair into a kiss, dark eyes on him all the while as he rides Hob.

“Just like this,” Dream whispers into Hob’s mouth, bliss twisting up slowly, as he claws at Hob’s back, melting into the solid warmth of his body as he noses at Hob’s neck.

Hob whimpers and clutches him tighter, nails digging in deep enough to make him bleed, not that he cares over the way Hob’s dick fits inside him perfectly, and Hob lets out a particular wail that lets Dream know that he’s close. The cock twitching inside him more and more also tells him as he grinds down hard, skin slapping as Hob keens, coming inside him with a gasp, unintelligible noises coming from his mouth as nails claw up his back.

Dream hums, melting even more into the other’s hold at the feeling of Hob’s spend inside, fluid leaking out as Dream presses down, his own orgasm slow and dragging as he his cunt squeezes around the softness of Hob, making him cry out. “Fuck,” Hob pants, hands stroking up and down his back, dark eyes staring up at him in worship. “You haven’t,” Hob chokes out, a hand moving around to, two fingers pressing right into his folds, and Dream shudders, pleasure spiking.

He feels Hob’s cock start to slip out, which he stops by grabbing the other’s hips, keeping it inside as fingers press inside, fluid squelching as Hob crooks his fingers, Hob staring at him with a bitten-red mouth. Hob’s cock tries to slip outside and he grunts, digging claws into Hob’s waist, “stay inside,” he scolds.

Hob’s throat works, a new spark in his eyes appearing as he grins, “my Dream, wanting me to keep you warm?” He asks softly, stretching up to kiss him gently and Dream whines happily as Hob fingers him to another orgasm, helped along by the filth of Hob’s words, “or is it you keeping me warm, with that lovely velvet cunt of yours?”

Dream cries out as the orgasm washes over him, hands digging into Hob’s chest, mind only honing in on Hob underneath him, inside him. “Yes,” he breathes, biting at the stubble of Hob’s jaw, delighted with the come and liquids gushing out of him.

Hob whines, another finger entering him, helping him towards another shuddering orgasm, gasping and whining, “at this rate I’m going to get a personal record for getting hard again,” Hob says, voice strangled and Dream smirks, nibbling at Hob’s ear as he grinds into the digits. “How long do you want to stay like this, then?”

Sighing, he strokes the back of Hob’s head, other hand still on the hair of Hob’s chest as he considers, “forever.”

Hob lets out a breath, almost a chuckle as fingers slip out of him, Hob’s cock slowly twitching back to hardness, filling him up deliciously, “sure. We can do that.”

“If I would’ve known centuries ago to keep you around was this, I would’ve tried even harder to get you into bed then,” Hob muses, fingers stroking his cheek as Dream hums, Hob’s soft dick nestled inside his arse, back pressed into the warm textures of Hob’s front as a hand plays with his hair, fingers softly trailing down his neck.

Dream’s thoughts are slow, hours of like this pulling a veiled haze over him, the only sensation of Hob quieting his mind. “Aren’t you meant to be working?” Blinking, his face presses into Hob’s shoulder as he looks at the laptop, which has now been turned off.

“Got all the work done I could today, especially considering the lovely distraction I have right here,” the smile is obvious in Hob’s voice, fingers tugging his hair slightly until he gasps, eyes fluttering shut as Hob begins to get hard.

Dream preens as Hob’s other hand trails down his torso, pleasure slow and languid as it builds up, as he grasps at Hob’s hair. “It quiets me,” he confesses quietly as fingers stroke the inside of his thighs, avoiding his own arousal. “And there is no Matthew to show up with something, so everything must be,” Dream gasps, heaving as fingers circle his cock and balls, teeth nipping at his bared throat.

“I’m happy to hear that, and I’ll try not to let it get to my head,” Dream glances up and presses into the stubble of Hob’s grin, “too much.”

“I fear it is too late for that already, Hob Gadling,” he intones breathily, and Hob laughs and strokes him softly, slick pre-come coating his fingers as they quickly drive him towards orgasm.

“You may be right,” Hob says severely, matching his own tone as Dream stutters and twitches, arching into Hob’s cock, sparks flaring behind his eyes as it drags against his prostate. “So beautiful,” Hob breathes, biting behind his ear and sucking marks on his neck as he whines, come coating his front and Hob’s hand.

Dream shivers, luxuriating as a tongue licks up his neck, the cock inside only rocking lightly, Hob more focused on marking up his neck, a hand scratching up his stomach to flick his nipples, the edge of overstimulation close with his orgasm, but selfishly keeps Hob close.

[Fin]

#dc #the sandman #dreamling #dreamling fanfic #dream x hob #hob x dream #hob x morpheus #writing #not sfw #i had to start somewhere and well gfhfghfg #just smth short and sweet 👌#2024 dreamling bingo

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thecameronchronicles · 2 years ago

Text

Savior

TW: abusive relationship. Cheating. Mentions of death/violence/homicide/blood. Language. Smut.

SUMMARY: Being neighbors with Trevor came with a specific benefit as he always kept a close eye on you...

WORD COUNT: 3500

*ORIGINAL CONCEPT*

Savior

Trevor's POV

How in the fuck did I convince myself to come to this? Her boyfriend's party. But one look at her in a dress he didn't deserve to see let alone peel off reminded me why. Not only for the deafening need to know just how my hands felt beneath the fabric, but also for the way I wanted each and every one of her smiles to be because of me. And for anyone responsible for her tears, may God have mercy on them...

"Trevor!" She welcomed me with an embrace that allowed every inch of her body to be felt in the thin fabric that separated. God, this woman could wear only sweats and a messy bun as she did the first day I saw her and I was still needing to adjust the swell in my seam.

"Thank you so much for coming!" She gripped tightly into my forearms. For a moment, it seemed as if I had been her reason for gravity. As if my presence soothed her somehow. Certainly an assumption as I was rarely seen as anything more than an inconvenience. And yet ever since she moved in six months ago, she always left me feeling this way.

Important. Worthy. So fucking needed that it was enough to make you dizzy. And if this devotion wasn't enough, the way she made it a point to make me comfortable had been that tipping point that made her different. That made any girl comparable to her and yet none would hold a candle. All because one of those simple looks set me on fire that paled to even the most skilled of women I attempted to use to forget her.

That was my plague. She was unforgettable. And I was the poor son of a bitch in love with someone else's girlfriend...

"Yeah, man, thanks for coming." It took everything I had not to curl a lip or even my hands to a fist. This possessive and arrogant asshole has a goddess at his fingers and yet his eyes scanned every feminine soul in attendance as if she was nothing. And she noticed.

The light that fought to remain behind her eyes remained at war against his presence. Never a kind word that didn't leave her embarrassed in the end. Details of their sex life enough to speak well of her as everything else was an apparent service that made him a victim or a martyr. And why she allowed it continued to astound me. Surely she knew she deserved better. Literally anyone. Wishful thinking made me hope it could one day have been me.

"Keep an eye on her would you? Gotta go do some rounds-" He abandoned her when he should have wished to show her off. It was enough to be thankful of his absence but regretful it brought her such pain.

"Can I show you something?" I asked as she illuminated to the offer.

The second we made our way outside to the balcony, she seemed to take a clear reprieve. I loved that it was possible in my presence. But I loathed knowing she would have to return to him eventually. But not now. And that's what mattered. It wasn't now.

"I always loved the stars...he always complains it's too cold to see them..." She placed her fingers on the edge of the railing and trusted it to lean forward. My eyes drifted down her curves and to her neck. A chosen hairstyle leaving her neck accessible to view. Soft skin accented by a beauty mark in perfect placement. A true work of art I was able to adore without needing to share.

Yet I remained as a friend as it's what she always needed. Everytime she was on the curb outside the complex in tears. Anytime she was left without a car and asked me for a ride. Each time keeping myself in check while burning for her. Just one signal that told me she wanted this and I would gladly risk his wrath for even a moment of that attention. A moment of bliss for a lifetime of hell.

"You deserve to see them..." She only shrugged.

"I saw this hotel...I can't remember where it is, but there are these igloos with glass ceilings you can spend the night in...and you can just stare at the stars all night. I'd sleep outside of I could..." The careless way she spoke with such raw honesty of her dreams made me want to make them real for her. No matter how stupid or impossible. But this one made me envision her wrapped in my arms, sheets draped over us just enough to be warm-

"Trevor?"

"Yeah?"

"It means a lot that you came. You're the only one who I actually like being around here...so thank you..." She confessed, my hand moving closer to hers as my pinky judged hers just enough to gain her attention.

"I wish it was only us..." This was the sign I needed. This was the step forward she needed to take so I knew. And I didn't care about the consequences.

I used a hold on her wrist to pull her towards me. A gentle collision anything but humorous as I use the same ledge she trusted to set her against. Instantly, her hand came to a rest at my cheek in the reminder of how delicate she was. And yet, her tongue was the one to tease mine.

"Trevor..." She breathed softly, a hand to my chest as she fisted to fabric.

"I can take care of you..."

"It isn't that simple..." She confessed as I nodded.

"Then let me help you not think..." I directed her hips harder into me, making my intentions clear before softening them. My pulse at war with her own, my cock desperate for even a small trace of her fingers, and my lips needing more. Needing all of her.

She tried to speak, but her body betrayed her as mine orchestrated us both. My fingers held a mind of their own, remaining cautious to not frighten her with how badly I desired her, but also speaking where words couldn't describe. Every kiss telling her I wanted her. Every touch or grasp informing her I'd protect her. But she remained distant from me.

"I want to make you feel good...I swear to God I won't stop until you do. I want to make you-" She nodded, her fingers toying with my belt as my thumbs teased the low rest of her skirt.

He was so fucking lucky and took her for granted. She would have been unable to walk if she wore that skirt for me. But then again, I wouldn't have wanted a party. I would have been content unwrapping her in repetition.

"Baby?" His voice echoed as she pushed me away, guilt riding over her face.

"Please don't say anything...I'm..I'm sorry Trevor..." In six months, I managed to learn of her emotions. But this had to be a first of terror.

After this exchange, knowing her body in my palms and the desperation her own made against my chest, I couldn't watch him use her as a trophy. Squeezing her ass when he wasn't reprimanding it. So I slipped out just prior to the cake, her eyes beckoning me to stay as even those pleading eyes wouldn't be enough.

Returning to my apartment has never been this difficult. I struggled to enter as I turned back to face her door. Separated by only a walk, I was able to hear remnants of the party until it died down enough to hear only them. Her cadence softer but still muffled and his sloppy and intimidating to her. It was rage inducing as I paced my bedroom floor, needing her now more than ever.

But she wasn't mine. It was simple. She chose him. Every night. Tonight. On the balcony. And it was enough to keep my ass in place.

At least until two in the morning.

The first rousing sound was that of broken glass and his raised tone. I slipped from my sheets and towards the wall, hearing her plead with him. It lasted a handful of times until the slamming of doors could be heard and an eventual sob. It was this sound of her sadness that sent me to their door before I could stop myself.

Not your problem. Not your-

"Dumb fucking bitch!"

Now it is.

My anger came behind my fist as I pounded on the door. But as it came open, she only showed me half of her. The entire left side of her body was hidden behind the heavy door as I could see the disarray that remained. The strap loose down her shoulder and her hair clearly gripped after the perfect waves I had embraced a few hours prior.

"Trevor..."

"Get rid of him..." He groaned behind her.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine..." Even a half mute, blind, or fully drunk man could tell she was lying. If the way she shook didn't show this, then the silent plea in her eyes had.

"I left my phone...can I come get it?"

"Can I...just have...I'll give it tomorrow-"

But as she tried to diffuse my presence and the tension it brought, he opened the door wide enough to observe her. Whatever works he spoke to me were moit behind the evidence over her. A busted lip. A bruised cheek. Tears escaping as she pleaded for me not to act. I had suspicions he was a dick. But I would ensure he'd never touch her again.

"Get it through your head man, she isn't gonna fuck you, no matter how pathetic you are-'" Were his final words as I clasped his collar. He was quick to respond with a lower cut to my ribs, an unsuspecting blow that gave him only a temporary upper hand.

"Trying to fight for her? She isn't fucking worth it! Trust me!"

"Stop!" She pleaded, trying to get between us as he only pushed her away.

"Go to my apartment..." I attempted to direct her but she remained as I was swung at. A last minute maneuver and his hand was smashed into the stone wall separating our living rooms.

"Fuck!"

"You're nothing but a low life asshole obsessed with her!"

"You don't ever touch her again!"

"Wrong. I do every night. Quite well. You MUST have heard her screaming for me...Knowing you'll never have her!" I ran to him as a bull to a crimson flag, sending him into the edge of his own sink. A set of elbows to my back made me release him before I rose like a man literally fighting for his life. Punch after punch until he was straddled flat. Nose broken enough to bleed profusely and two teeth loosened enough to spot out as evidence of my imminent victory.

"Are you okay?" I asked her as I left him on the floor. My hands to her cheeks were accepted by her fingers wrapping around my wrists. But as I helped her in place, my forehead at hers with a silent confirmation, she opened her eyes in a split second to find him lunging after me.

"Trevor!" The blade if a knife would nick my forearm before it was directed back within his abdomen. A pure reaction to a fight or flight response as everything chilled.

I wasn't a man who often made the "right" decision. My methods were questionable and I was anything but honest in the means of...well most things. But I protected her. And it was enough to silence the guilt that she developed secondhand.

"Trevor..." My name has never sounded so sour on her lips. But I understood.

"You both...are...gonna be...sorry..." He shot blood rapidly. Whatever was struck by the blade was enough to be fatal as he became an immobile and flaxen in less than a minute. His back ceasing to rise in even the most shallow of breaths.

He was dead.

I killed him.

For her.

"What did you do?" Her eyes were wide.

"He isn't going to hurt you anymore..." I took hold of her wrist and led her to my apartment. My mind was wild with a list of what to do. But as I thought of calling the police or cleaning up the scene, I watched her on the couch where I left her. Cleaning the blood from my hands in the kitchen sink, I moved to her.

"I'm not going to apologize about what happened , but I am sorry you had to see it." I ran my thumb against her lip. "He deserved it..." she stood for a moment, my words rejected and my kindness left behind her steps. But as she moved to the door, she turned back to face me.

"Do you have any idea what you've done? Who he is?! That's Roland Voight's son. Elusive millionaire...macabre and dark...questionable-"

"Guess the rotten apple doesn't fall far from the tree..."

"You killed his son!" I moved closer to her.

"And I'd do it again." I spoke with the attempt to be confident, but my words shook. Not in the fact it was untrue, but for the fact I hadn't understood the reality until she spoke the words back to me. But I meant it. If presented with the same circumstances, I would have done the same.

"You...you killed him...you...you-" She was tripping over her words as I began to hollow. Not that I expected gratitude, but at least not hatred. I could have her disgusted with me even more than this. But then suddenly she was against him, knocking me off of my feet with her arms around my neck.

"You freed me..." A weak smile broke our kids as I lifted her back towards the couch. This beautiful, battered, woman was mine. And I wasn't going to question it. Whether it as adrenaline or some kink, I didn't care. As far as I was concerned, she was mine and I was hers.

"I'm not going to let anyone hurt you..."

"I know..." She smiled softly as she writhed against me. A dance of sorts allowed to my torso as she pulled my blood soaked shirt from my body. As it bled to my skin, she traced it for only a second before I brought her focus back to me.

"I know I should feel guilty, but I can't...I've wanted this for so long, Trevor." I couldn't believe what she said. Like a seventh wonder presenting itself for me. Only me. And I was a greedy man. Especially when it came to her. Only her.

"So have I..."

"Please..." Her hand came to my pants as I stopped her hand, her plea coming from this rejection. When I remained in disbelief to her, she took it upon herself to bend over the arm of the couch. Her body presented to me in the most carnal of ways. Her panties peeking from beneath her shorts and a bra strap having fallen to her elbow. But this wasn't a one night stand. This wasn't a quick fuck to forget about her. I wanted her. I needed her. I wasn't going to rush this.

"I want to know..." She confessed looking back at me.

"Know what?"

"What it's like not having to fake it..." She moved back towards me, slipping out of her clothes until only her lingerie remained, as I was at a loss to do anything but witness her. She was even more perfect than I imagined. Her curves. Her soft skin. Her.

Fuck.

"I thought of you. Everytime he touched me. Kissed me. I wanted it to be you-"

"Jesus Christ, you're gonna kill me..." I spoke against her neck. She hasn't been on her knees for me or touched my cock and yet it throbbed like never before.

"Please Trevor...I can take it. However you want me...I can-"

"I want to make love to you, not fuck you..." She tensed to my words, as if they were worse than the painful ones she'd sadly become accustomed to.

"I..."

"We don't have to..."

"I want you..." Her arm cranes around my neck. "I've always wanted you."

"Then we're doing it my way..." My dominance was only to remind her of what she deserved. And for that, I moved into my knees for her. Her legs over my shoulders as I devoured what he always took advantage of. And fuck, she was sweet. So wet. So fucking sweet. And all fucking mine.

Her back arched in seconds as her hands gripped for a reprieve she would never have. I didn't mean to edge her yet I wanted it to last. So I slowed. The most delicious of moans coming from such swollen lips.

"You deserve to feel only pleasure...and I'm going to show you how to..." I set her fingers between her legs.

"No...I want you..."

"And I need to be patient because I won't last if-"

"I don't want you to...please Trevor..."

"Not yet, baby...you're gonna be adored first..." I pulled her around me and into the bedroom. She deserved a bed. She deserved the comfort and space I'm sure he didn't allow her. Swift ducks to make himself come. But to know I was the only one to make her, genuinely, it was a high better than any woman on her knees for me. Maybe even her.

"I can't wait...please Trevor..." She pleaded again as I'd stretched her for me. My fingers coated in her from tip to knuckle, learning her body exclusively for me. Every shudder, mine. Every moan, mine. Every whimper belonged to-

"Trevor!" She gasped as I used my cock through her lower lips.

"Please..." She mewled, the desperations sweater with every utterance.

"I can't wait." She nodded, her body welcoming me stronger than I expected. Her inner walls a vice around my shaft. Fuck I could have come immediately. Everything was too much. But she deserved to be thoroughly blissed. I pinned her hands flat on either side of her head and controlled the thrusts as she continued to beg me.

I never wanted her to beg. It was beneath her. But damn, she made it sound so sweet.

"Harder..."

"Not yet, baby."

"Ugh!" Her back arched as I began to increase my speed. Sweat mixed in abundance to tell whose belonged to who. It stained the sheet all the same.

"Please make me come, Trevor...I can feel it..."

"You don't have to ask...I will, baby. I just want you to feel all of me..." I thrusted again. Shit, she was so fucking good. Too fucking good. The way she dug her nails into me. The way she breathed in my ear. Every goddamn detail.

"I do! You're so deep, baby-" A moan escaped my lips. I would be anything to her, gladly. But any possession made me an immediate switch. A submissive to her desires.

"Fuck..." I strained over her as she nodded.

"Yes, Trevor! You're gonna make me come!" Her nails clawed into my back.

"Harder." I teased the words she offered earlier as she obliged. We both wore the wounds of the night in both pleasure and pain. Red lines of nails on my back as they were left on her hips. Bruises from him were kissed and quelled by me as she showed me her appreciation of my valor.

"Baby, tell me where to come..."

"Inside-"

"But I didn't put on-"

"Inside-" her nails were sharp into my ass. God, I'd sold my soul to her.

"Fuck...." I inhaled with a groan as she nodded.

"Yes! Fuck! Ah!"

"Is it too hard baby?" I asked as she only shook her head, biting her lips closed to not belt. My hand came to her lips as she took them between her teeth, biting softly onto the pad as I kissed into her neck.

The edge too close. Her body still too far.

"I love you-" the words left my lips as I came to regret them already.

"I...I didn't mean..."

"I love you too, Trevor..." She confessed breathlessly. Those words more of an aphrodisiac than any other moment. My body submitting to her as if I'd never known pleasure before. My body in tremors that she accompanied, until I was left at a rest against her chest.

"I meant it..." I confessed.

"Good." She smirked. "I did too." She kissed me softly.

This was how it should always have been. Us. And I would face any charge, any man, even any hell to keep her.

Little did I know, I was about to...

TAGLIST: @hopebaker @drewspisces @penny4yourthoughts @magnificantmermaid @pickingviolets @lovedetlost @trikigirl271 @maybankslover @slut4tangerine @slvtherinseeker @obxiskewl @bluesongbird @slut-era @ailee-celeste @camilynn @sweetestdesire @onmykneesforrafe @jjmaybanksangel @phildunphyisadilf @mashdan0916

MASTERLIST

TREVOR MASTERLIST

MARCH MADNESS MASTERLIST

#drew starkey #hellraiser #hellraiser 2022 #hellraiser trevor #trevor hellraiser #hellraiser fanfiction #hellraisertrevor #trevor hellraiser fanfiction

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writingjourney · 1 year ago

Note

Imagine⭐

You've known Papa Primo for a thousand years. You have lived together for many-many years. Although you are not much younger than him, but your husband is worried, that he is old for you, that you will stop loving him. But on the other hand, he sees, how you look at him. Just like before. Like he's the only man in this world. Both of you are not getting any younger, and the feelings between you are no longer as hot and unbridled as before, but they have become stronger, warmer. Let it be a little difficult for you to give each other physical love, but you can talk for a long time.

The Devil's Ivy | Primo x gn!reader

I love you anon and I love this headcanon. Primo deserves all the love and affection. Also, I wrote this while sick so pls bear with me.

content: 900 words, older gn!reader, just some wholesome fluff :)

Masterlist – Ao3 link

Epipremnum aureum, the devil’s ivy, almost a decade old but still alive and thriving.

Primo has been propagating this plant for an hour now, carefully cutting the stems with his sterilized pruning shears, removing leaves, placing the cuttings in fresh water. His patience astounds you, just like his growing expertise ever since he started to properly hone in on this former niche interest of his after retiring. Watching him so focused on his hobby is beautiful; it would be much more beautiful if you weren’t seeing that big line of worry on his forehead.

You leave your reading spot on the sofa to walk over to his sunny working station by the window. If he notices you, he doesn’t let on, only setting down his latest cutting and the shears when you mold yourself into his side, wrapping your arms around his middle.

“Hello, handsome,” you whisper, pressing a kiss to his soft cheek.

Your husband has changed a lot over the past two decades, just like you have. The years are much more visible on him, though, a man who had to shoulder all the heavy burdens that life as a high-ranking clergy member inevitably bestowed him with. They are etched into his skin now, visible in every line on his face, every wrinkle and age spot marring his hands, the slightly crouched way in which he walks. The responsibilities, the sacrifices he made in his faith, they mark his very soul, and his stern reputation has long since faded as he grew into a confidante, a mentor for many younger clergy members. You love his growing softness, physical as well as emotional. His caring nature had drawn you in when you met him more than half a lifetime ago, especially towards his brothers, hidden under so many protective layers of authority and sometimes even cruelty. But now it is showing so clearly that you can’t help but fall deeper in love with him every single day.

“Hello, fiore mio,” he replies, wrapping a slender arm around your waist.

“I love that you picked up gardening.” You lean into him, feeling his steady warmth. “I love you, Primo.”

He smiles. “Because I bring you flowers every day?”

You smirk. “Yes. But also no.”

“I love you, too,” he says, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head. “What made you get up from your comfortable spot on the couch to tell your old man this?”

“That unmistakable line of worry on your forehead.”

His expression changes, softens, and you lift your hand to smooth out the very crease you’ve been speaking of. He relaxes against your touch, wrapping his other arm around you as well until you’re properly nestled up to him.

“What is it, my love?” you ask, leaning back to catch his mismatched gaze.

A soft shake of his head. “It is silly. Silly old man thoughts.”

“Tell me anyway.”

Primo sighs, his fingertips digging into your flesh ever so slightly as he tightens his grip on you. “I am old, amore– No, hush!” You close your mouth again at his scowl. “I am old, it is true. You are the best thing in my life, fiore mio. I am grateful for you every day and I want you to be happy with me always, so it is natural that I worry about this, yes? That I am too old for you?”

You smile softly, running the backs of your fingers over his cheek. “I suppose it is normal, yes.”

He takes your hand that’s still hovering close to his face and brings it to his lips. “I worry about this sometimes but then I see you like this, looking at me with such love, treating me like I am the only man in the world, like I am still young and desirable.”

“You are still desirable. And you know I’m not getting any younger either.”

He shakes his head dismissively. “Your beauty only grows every day, amore.”

You feel your cheeks heating up as he presses a tender kiss to your knuckles, then another and another until you can’t help but giggle like you did when you were young and head-over-heels in love with him. And you still are that person, in many ways, only that your love has changed, evolved from a heated, passionate intensity to this soft, lingering feeling of bliss that every action now carries. The years have not weathered your love for each other but made it stronger and the solidity of those feelings, of your trust in each other, is worth more than anything else in the world.

“I will make some tea now,” you decide. “And you take a break to sit with me for a while.”

He nods, shoulders slumping as his worries slowly leave him. “Thank you, amore.”

You smile, holding his face in your hands to look into his familiar eyes. Throughout all those years together, the excited glimmer when he sees you has never once disappeared, and you feel ever so grateful that you get to see it every single day. When you lean in to press a proper kiss to his lips, he reciprocates and keeps you close for just a little bit longer.

Maybe these moments are how you propagate your love. And with a little care and patience every now and then, you know it will thrive, just like his devil’s ivy, for many years to come.

#primo x reader #papa emeritus i #papa emeritus x reader #papa emeritus i x reader #primo #the band ghost #the band ghost fanfiction #ghost fanfiction #primo headcanons #primo fanfiction #primo fluff #asks #anon

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naurimastaur · 1 year ago

Text

A prank a day keeps Severus Snape away!

Summary: in which Fred and George introduce y/n to her very first prank, and Snape into a life of eternal regret.

Pairing: slightly Fred x fem!reader

Note: the twins might be a little ooc as I haven’t read much of them in a while!

Warning: this probably needs heavily edited but I’m lazy so!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y/n peacefully walked down the corridor before a twin appeared at each side, linking an arm with hers.

“ Do you know what day it is?” Fred questioned. She shook her head in confusion. It was astounding if Fred remembered what year they were living in never mind what day it was. This could only mean one thing; a weasley scheme.

“should I know, or is it just something you’ve made up to entertain yourself?” She mocked.

“ It’s only the most important day of your life,” George piped in, face moving uncomfortably closer to hers. A Cheshire cats smile overcoming his features.

“ If this is another product of yours you want to test on me, do you mind getting me a lawyer first?” She groaned. “Or a legal contract that promises if I turn into an actual test Guinea pig, that you’ll buy me a pink sparkly cage to rot in?” She said batting her eyelashes at them both.

“Of course not, you know if that happened we’d stuff you down Percy’s trousers.” Fred replied, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“What a twit,” George replied, unhelpful.

“Besides, today you are the grand master behind the prank rather than, well being the prank.” Fred replied, believing this to be a flattering position to bestow upon someone.

“Wow! Upgrades! How lucky am I?” She exclaimed.

George choosing to ignore this, immediately jumped into the plan. “We need you to tell moaning myrtle that Snape’s caught a fancy for her.”

“You want me to tell the ghost of a fourteen year old that a grown man is in love with her?”

“Precisely! See George, I told you she’d get on board in no time!” Fred beamed.

George continued, “And while you girly talk with mytrle we’ll cause a distraction forcing Snape into the bathroom and into his phantom lover’s hands.” He smiled accomplished.

“ If only you two put this much thought into school, imagine the outcome.”

“ To end up as greasy and alone as Snape?” Fred replied, grinning.

“ Letting your emo haircut from adolescence follow you twenty years into adulthood?” George added.

“ Having your only friends be your empty chemistry beakers?” Fred continued.

“ The last and only interaction with a woman being your own mother?” George added, for good measure.

Y/n shook her head in plain disappointment, knowing that the real shame was coming from her eagerness to agree with the plan. To join in on the fun for once.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Oh wow I seemed to have dropped this strange unfolded note from Professor Snape’s diary.” Y/n called out, pacing the girl’s bathroom. “It would be really such a shame if anyone were to read it!”

“Professor Snape has a diary?” Myrtle said suspiciously, popping out of one of the near toilets. Is that still unhygienic even if she’s a ghost and technically doesn’t touch anything?

“Hey don’t judge we all have our own coping mechanisms.” Y/n replied with a hand on her heart and a solemn look on her face. “Look I’d really appreciate if you gave that note back before I get in trouble,” she said, adding a slight quiver to her lip.

Myrtle, forever the drama seeking ghost teen took it into her grip, ignoring y/n’s pleas and gleefully giggling at her misfortune. However, all her giddiness was ceased the moment she read the note.

“Professor Snape, likes… me?” She questioned, unsure of herself and even more unsure of the paper before her.

“Well,” y/n replied hesitantly, “ I really wasn’t supposed to say.” She mustered the most shame filled look she could imagine, it wasn’t difficult as it naturally seemed to appear whenever the twins were around. “But you didn’t hear it from me!”

She was cut off by the sound of heavy footsteps and panicked shouts from the corridor. “HIDE!”

“Sorry got to go!” She ran, following the familiar voice of Fred, leaving myrtle in a more petrified state than the basilisk attack fifty years ago.

“Into the closet quickly!” Fred urged shoving her in. Wasn’t chivalry just alive and thriving amongst young men today? Peeking out of the slight crack in the doors frame they saw Snape approach, his raggedy cloak cascading behind him, before his path was blocked by a semi- transparent creature.

“Why hello handsome.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“How does Myrtle of All people have a better love life than me?” Y/n moaned, throwing her head back against Fred’s chest in despair, forced into his embrace due to the lack of space.

Fred smiled to himself looking down at her, letting out a lighthearted chuckle.

“Are you teasing me?” She questioned, humour laced in her tone paired with a scolding look in her eyes.

“Course not, wouldn’t imagine it love.” Fred held up his hands in mock surrender. “Besides,” he continued on, wrapping his arms around her frame, “I think you’re just looking at the wrong people is all.”

Y/n froze, catching the suggestion in his tone. Before she could fully process however, the door of their hidden sanctuary was thrown open, a steaming Snape stood in front of them.

Well shit.

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A/n: Hello I’m unsure if this’ll get any attention but my first post did well so I’m back again! Lmk if I should stick to x fem!reader or nb!reader.

@thescrunkler just for you babes xx (if you hate it close your eyes).

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thatsdemko · 2 years ago

Text

lil secret - j.swayman

masterlist

requested: y

pairings: Jeremy swayman x mcavoy!fem!reader

warnings: nsfw + not intended for minors + a little short + mentions of panic

a/n: this was supposed to be with the ask as a blurb BUT tumblr found the picture offensive with the ask so it’s in imagine form but really it’s a blurb! this blurb has been lightly proof read

《 the following content is not intended for minors. 》

“we really shouldn’t be doing this.” were the famous words of any secret relationship or situationship. it was the words you and Jeremy were constantly saying over and over, yet you both found yourselves underneath each other every occurring week. you were both were addicted to each other.

“well I couldn’t resist myself, you look good in that dress.” he pulled you into his lap. his hands finding their way under your dress, and his fingers just grazed the cotton material that was damp. you, yourself, couldn’t wait to get behind a closed door with him. when you saw him in that suit walk into your brothers apartment, you just knew you needed him alone.

his fingers moved from the fabric to inside of you, and a moan— that may have been too loud for trying to keep privacy—slipped out of your mouth. Jeremy shoved his tie in your mouth for you to clamp on. he couldn’t have you blow this.

chuckling to himself, he removed his fingers from inside of you. you watched him lick his fingers, joyfully, “you gotta be quiet if you don’t want your brother to know, baby girl.”

your legs were straddling his thick thigh. the moment he sat down next to you on the couch you mentally moaned and physically squirmed next to him. the dress pants were awfully tight on him, and he picked them for a reason. to toy with you.

shifting underneath you now, you felt him push his thigh up and down reminding you why you were in the family bathroom in the first place. “you gonna ride me, baby girl?” he whispered in your ear sending chills down your spine.

“like no tomorrow.” you felt his hands gripping your hips guiding you up and down the fabric carefully. you could feel the relief in your body finally having this moment. he was absolutely astounded by just how much joy and pleasure this was bringing you.

but on the other side of the door, there was your panicked brother searching for you. the last he saw you was at the bar ordering a drink, and ever since twenty minutes ago he hadn’t seen you since. he was asking everyone he knew, or just anyone in general, but nobody knew where you were.

“calm down, she’s gotta still be in the building. I’m sure she’s just doing her makeup.” Jake tried to calm him down because usually at events you stuck by Charlie’s side, and Jake knew this. but seeing your phone was still at the table, he had lost all hope you were still here.

“she doesn’t have her phone, man. I’m worried.”

one of the girlfriends had reported no one was in the ladies room, but one of the family bathroom doors was locked. his only hope was for you to still be in there, or else he was the worst brother ever and somehow let you slip out the building.

making his way to the family bathroom door he could smell your perfume. if it’s one thing Charlie ever knew, it was that he loathed the scent of warm vanilla. and that just so happened to be your scent, but this time he was glad to inhale it.

the loud knock of someone’s knuckles against the steel door was enough to jolt you off of Jeremy and immediately run to the mirror to fix yourself. the voice coming from the other side of the door was no one other than your brother. of course. you knew with how long you’d been gone, he had a search party looking for you.

“y/n, are you in there?” you heard his voice ring through the bathroom, you heard Jeremy whisper a few swear words trying to find somewhere to hide, but there was nowhere. you could not have your brother see you with him. not in the panicked state he was already in.

“yeah, hold on!” you peaked behind you to see Jeremy gesturing for you to go first and he’d somehow make his way out of the bathroom after you. you just had to make sure the door didn’t open wide enough to reveal you weren’t in there alone.

letting out a final sigh having brought yourself back to a decent state, you opened the door in the slightest, revealing your face to Charlie, and then squeezing your way out.

“it’s been twenty minutes, are you okay?”

smiling to yourself, you nodded, taking a glance back at the door to see Jeremy had just slipped out, he sent you a wink as you watched him adjust his tie, “oh I’ve never been better.”

#hockey imagines #hockey #jeremy swayman #Boston bruins #boston bruins fic #boston bruins imagine #Boston bruins blurb #Jeremy swayman x reader #charlie mcavoy #Jeremy swayman imagine #Jeremy swayman blurb #hockey fic #hockey blurbs #nhl blurb #nhl

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the-light-finds-its-way · 2 months ago

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So I'm thinking of my own self-insert fic and how I meet Misraaks. And yes it's cheesy and trope-y. But it's my universe and what I say goes.

Anyway, I'm a Titan, obviously, but I use a bunch of melee weapons since irl I can't aim for shit. So I imagine a more futuristic barbarian aesthetic since I always LARP as a barbarian, with myself carrying an axe in one hand, and Caiatl absolutely gave me a Centurion shield to use so there's that in my other hand.

Anyway, I'm on the battlefields with Misraaks because Hive have attacked and somehow he's caught up in the mix.

A bunch come, and one knight jams his blade through Misraaks, injuring him gravely.

I see this. I fucking go berserk. With fury and wrath I summon the Hammer of Sol, and charge the swarm with vengeance and rage, eliminating nearly all within moments.

The knight takes notice and approaches.

My hammer fades, and I grab my axe, jumping as I outright tackle the Hive to the ground and grapple him.

Misraaks watches, absolutely ASTOUNDED that this tiny ass Titan not even 5ft tall has somehow managed to subdue a humongous Hive knight.

An epic fight ensues between the knight and I, ultimately ending when I am flung off the dude and stop mid-air, soar from above, and drive my axe through his chest, ripping it out as I land on the ground, then use my shield to shatter the knight apart.

The field is clear, and I rush to Misraaks, gripping him close and gently.

Much to the Kell's surprise, I lift him in my arms and run him to my ship, then fly us to the Last City where I bring him to get help.

I'm walking through the Tower idly, worried sick.

Ikora sees me, and approaches. She says Misraaks told her what I did, and that I managed to intimidate him a bit with my prowess, apparently. But Ikora laughs a bit, and says she always knew I was fierce. That's just who I am.

There I absolutely panic. I didn't mean to scare him! I just freaked out and wanted him safe! This is just how I fight! I care about him, I had to get him help and fast and I couldn't do that without decimating the enemies, and—

Ikora stops me. She says it's ok. Misraaks is ok. And he is glad I saved him. She thinks he might've even taken some appreciation to my strength in battle. Maybe even in the same way I appreciate him...

How does she know I like him? I never said anything to anyone. How would she—

And Ikora tells me to just go. See Misraaks. He needs the company.

So, nervously, I head out to where Misraaks is. He's laying in a medical cot, wound wrapped, helmet off with just his rebreather on. I rush to his side.

Misraaks seemingly grins at the sight of me.

I sigh in relief at seeing him ok.

The Kell tells me he has not seen a ferocity as mine before, but that he's heard from others how I'm just like that. I defend, I protect, and I do so with my entire being because I love.

And Misraaks says it's ok. He knows.

I freeze. I'm literally stunned in silence.

But Misraaks lifts his arms closest to me, and pulls me against his chest. And with all four, he hugs me gently.

I just lay against him softly, carefully, listening to his heartbeat, and suddenly Misraaks moves his rebreather away, and leans down. He kisses my head.

"I love you, too," he tells me.

And I lean up, and return this kiss to him as he and I just hug and hold and love.

Days later, when Misraaks is recovered, I outright carry him out of the place, and when we make it to the Tower, Osiris sees us.

"So the lovebirds finally took flight," he says.

I frown at him.

How many people knew? How long have they known? HOW did they know I love him?!

"To be fair," Osiris says, "You've been learning Eliksni, and I don't know anyone who would go so far as you have to save a man as you did."

"Says the guy who broke time to save his husband," I tell him.

"Exactly. You're gay. I'm gay. It's all gay. Now go take your boyfriend on a date already. The whole City has been waiting long enough for you to."

I'm stunned.

The whole damn Last City knows???

I accidentally drop Misraaks in my surprise, then freak out! Is he ok?! I apologize so much!

But Misraaks stands up, laughing and hugs me close. "I am fine, Magnus. Stop worrying, please. Let's go have a pleasant lunch."

I blush. Hugging the Kell back, I nod. "Ok. Agreed. I uhhh... I know a good mac and cheese place if you want that."

And so we have our first date with mac and cheese as the meal, and both of us are happy.

#the titan speaks #misraaks #d2 #destiny 2 #self insert #gay

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obstinaterixatrix · 1 year ago

Note

Usopp asks sanji to write out the recipe of a favorite dish of his and let him borrow the kitchen to make it but sanji keeps Observing and Hovering

set vaguely after arlong park I guess??

—

Despite what anyone on the crew might think, Sanji isn’t actually against having other people in the kitchen. Working in a restaurant means working with a bunch of assholes who know how to sauté shit without setting themselves on fire. But while the bastards on the Baratie could barely be considered chefs, they were still—technically speaking—chefs.

He doesn’t miss the cacophony of steel and iron, of stupid banter, of order after order after order. He doesn’t miss elbowing past Patty on the way to the fridge, or heckling some dipshit’s new recipe until it’s actually worth serving, or cleaning with the geezer at the end of the day.

What he does miss is working with someone who knows how to hold a knife.

“That’s not how you fillet a fish,” Sanji says. Once he’s sure Usopp’s not in danger of accidentally cutting himself, Sanji reaches over to reposition Usopp’s hand, finger off the spine of the blade.

Usopp makes a face, probably torn between deferring to Sanji or spinning some story to brush him off. They’re still feeling each other out—it’s been a weird leap from ‘reluctant waiter and picky customer’ to ‘crewmates bound by the whims of their idiot captain.’ In the end, Usopp nods, carefully cutting into the pike while holding the knife in his new and improved posture (smart choice, less chance of losing his grip and a finger).

“You’re not cutting close enough to the—“

“Do you not want me here?” Usopp blurts out. “In the kitchen, I mean,” he clarifies, and for a second it looks like he’s going to continue, but he. Doesn’t. No backpedaling, no deflection, no convoluted over-explanation, which—isn’t Usopp supposed to lie? That’s his whole thing. Sanji knows that much, at least (but not much else).

“I’m trying to be nice,” Sanji says, eventually. To his own surprise, he means it. “If I didn’t want you here, I would’ve kicked you out.”

“…Oh.”

Usopp continues filleting the pike, and Sanji doesn’t point out the bones that are stuck in the pieces.

Alright, so, the thing is. Spending nine whole years surrounded by thugs will apparently have an impact on someone’s social skills. Which doesn’t matter with Luffy—he doesn’t really care about what Sanji says (unless it’s about food). It doesn’t matter with Zoro—Sanji doesn’t give a shit about that mosshead. And with Nami-chan, Sanji doesn’t have to think—a single glimpse of her radiant beauty is so soul-stirring that Sanji’s simply helpless against the flood of praise that springs forth ❤️

So how the hell is he supposed to talk to someone like Usopp?

Thankfully, it’s not a question Sanji has to consider for too long—Usopp clears his throat, taking the lead.

“I actually did this a lot before joining the crew,” he says, which—knife technique aside—sounds plausible.

“Yeah?”

“I must’ve grilled a thousand—no, ten thousand fish,” he continues, which sounds like bullshit. “By the time I was eight, the whole island was lining up for a taste of the great Captain Usopp’s legendary fire-grilled fish! Using spices foraged from the forest and fish caught by spear, not even the most refined palate could resist the food I poured my heart and soul into! But you see—” and here, he smiles, bright but somehow bittersweet, “I’d only cook it for my loyal crew and the princess we’d all sworn to protect.

“Now, as astounding as my own recipe was, I’m man enough to admit when I’m beat. And yours beats mine, no contest. So someday, I’d… like to cook it. For my old crew.”

It’s impressive, the way Usopp manages to be blindingly honest while lying his ass off. Sanji’s not quite sure what to make of it. If anyone else was feeding him this crap, he would’ve told them to eat shit, but…

…

“Hey,” Sanji says. “Tell me about your old crew.”

And, with a wide grin, Usopp does.

(The fish comes out fine. A little over-seasoned, but edible. They’ll work on it.)

#sanuso #sanji #usopp #my writing #one piece #ask #anonymous #I had a line like ‘Fire-grilled? How else would fish be grilled?’#but realized. I’m not confident enough to stake my life on that line as something a chef would say.#technically there’s charcoal grilling right…? hm…#anyway I wrote this in 3 hours with slapdash research into How To Perfectly Fillet A Pike #and am posting without a beta read by one piece scholars. also I never wrote these characters. also I haven’t reread one piece in years.#thanks anon that was fun #also thanks ketolic for the other prompt I’m gonna start it when it’s not 3am lol #oplb #orlbs

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j-nipper-95 · 9 months ago

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WIP Wednesday (because it's still Wednesday somewhere!)

Thank you so much for the tags recently. Even if I've not been responding to them I've been reading what everyone has been working on and it continues to astound me just how wonderfully talented this fandom is. Keep being fabulous, each and every one of you!

Would it really be a WIPsday of mine if I ever posted on time in my timezone?

That's right folks, Trails is back! Edits are happening with the next chapter, which I'm hoping I'll be able to share soon. My team and I are working through edits for chapters about one a week at the moment. I may have to go to bi weekly posting though, as writing has slowed down on the newer chapters. But we shall see. The muses are fickle, and may return to me, one day.

A huge thank you has to go out to my beta team, my friend Zoë (who isn't on tumblr), @artsyunderstudy, @cutestkilla and @iamamythologicalcreature! I couldn't have got this fic back on track without you all!!

But for now, a snippet from the next chapter. Baz POV.

The knife is kicked from my grip and sent flying into the river by a heavy work boot and another crewman drops into the lifeboat. I lurch away, almost back to back with Simon, the crowbar digging into my shoulder. I grope behind me, drawing it from his braces. “Told you it’d come in handy,” Snow smirks. “We’ll have time for ‘told you so’s later.” “Promises,” he purrs. You have no idea, Snow. Crowbar raised over my head, I swing at the newest attacker over the central bench but he deftly steps back out of reach, ducking under my return swing. I cross the bench to keep him on the retreat. He whips his handgun up to shoot but I get a hand around the muzzle and shift his aim. The bullet clangs against the side of the ship and I copy Bunce’s earlier move with the crowbar. I slam it into the man’s wrist and he releases his grip on the gun. My own hand flies open at the impact but I don’t try to fumble for the gun. The splash it makes into the Thames is too faint to make out. Both hands back on the crowbar I swing for the man’s jaw. The crewman ducks and lunges for my waist grabbing me and knocking me off my feet between the benches. I’m forced to drop the crowbar and shove his face back, thumbs searching for his eye sockets, anything to get him off of me. One of his meaty hands pins my wrist to the bottom of the boat, the other finding my throat. “Baz!” Shadows shift as Simon spins, now doubt raising the mattock to attack, but there’s a spray of something warm over me from the other direction. The crewman goes limp in my grip as warm blood trickles down my wrists and beneath my shirt sleeves. Something metal clatters to the floor of the boat as I throw the man’s limp body off of me, and see the wound to the side of his head. Penny’s face is ashen and flecked with the man’s blood. “Penelope Bunce,” I breathe. “Penny, the rope!” Simon’s hand is on my chest gripping my shirt a split second before Penny’s end of the boat drops as the rope snaps. Penny screams and grabs hold of the central bench as Simon helps me sit up. The crewman’s body flops forward and tumbles out of the boat. “Simon,” Penny calls, pointing over our shoulders. I follow her stare and see the rope Simon had been cutting is almost sawn through as well. More crewmen are shouting above us, seemingly deciding not to bother climbing down the ropes anymore and instead just shoot us from the deck. Hammers cock. A call to take aim. Please, not like this. He doesn’t know how much I love him.

(No pressure) tags for Sunday: @artsyunderstudy @aristocratic-otter @bazzybelle @blackberrysummerblog @bookish-bogwitch @cattocavo @chen-chen-chen-again-chen @cosmicalart @cutestkilla @dragoneggos @erzbethluna @ebbpettier @fatalfangirl @frjsti @henreyettah @hushed-chorus @ic3-que3n @ileadacharmedlife @ivelovedhimthroughworse @krisrix @larkral @letraspal @martsonmars @nightimedreamersworld @orange-peony @prettylightsbigcity @palimpsessed @phoxphyre @raenestee @shrekgogurt @skeedelvee @stardustasincocaine @subparselkie @that-disabled-princess @theearlgreymage @wellbelesbian @you-remind-me-of-the-babe

#wip wednesday #snowbaz #the trails we blaze #el dorado au #1920s london

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chambersandfogg · 8 months ago

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May 30th, 1919

Somehow, I have found myself a fifty-five year old man. While I have had either the good fortune or the misfortune (all these years on and I’m still uncertain which it is) to avoid the ravages of age, my mind is that of a person who has been on this earth for five decades and seen a nearly world-ending war. One would think that these experiences would bring wisdom with them, but that remains to be seen. All I know I’ve gained is a kind of weariness that reminds me of being a boy, but now without any of those hardships.

To think of that boy now brings no small amount of relief, a bit of awe, and a certain measure of grief. My life is inarguably better than it was and yet, I have no sense of who I am really am. Perhaps it is the lack of possibility—when you are a young, the future stretches before you like an endless road. And then, over the years, you get set in your ways, your thinking, your very being. You become limited by your own experiences, perspectives, and, for most, your physical form.

I see it in my colleagues—those I still correspond with, too worried about the consequences of seeing any of them in person. They write of how they wish they could go adventuring as they always have but their heart or their bad leg won’t let them. Even John has sometimes spoken of how his leg and hip bother him, slow him down, though he talks of it as a mere inconvenience and nothing more. I try to be compassionate and understanding in my responses, though I always have to take special care writing him back on the subject, for every time I think of him immediately coming into mortal danger when arriving at the front, a kind of furious anger fills me, the likes of which I have not felt before. It embarrasses me, to still be so easily riled by the events of a war already being written about in history books, but everything with John always did provoke me faster than anything else.

I have yet to see him in person—travel still limited in the way that it is—but I fear he will try to hide from me the more serious ways in which his injuries affect him. He certainly went through a considerable amount of effort to hide the incident from me in the first place, always skating past my questions in his letters and having me write, not to the infirmary, but the neighboring town. In any event, the burns did not seem to slow him down too much during the war, considering he was right back out there far sooner than I would have preferred. I suppose I should just be grateful we’re both alive—I am grateful, deeply. But it irks me to think of him in pain or distress.

But all of that is old news at this point—I fear that he and I will discuss matters ad nauseam if we both refuse to move on. Neither one of us is very good at backing down from a fight.

Perhaps I am fixating on others’ troubles because I have so few of my own. I am certainly not resource limited. Especially since I began playing my luck on the stock market, the wealth that I have is practically unthinkable. It certainly would have been beyond the imagination of the boy who hawked newspapers on street corners to support his mother.

What would he think of me now? He would be glad, I think, to be out of the grips of poverty and equally astounded at that fact. But would he be disappointed in my fairly sedate life? Would he be horrified at my loneliness?

For all their struggles—learning a new language in adulthood, being so far from their homeland, even if there was nothing left for them in Ireland—for all the ways in which my parents were impoverished, they were never poor in company. Two people so in love they crossed the ocean with only the other to talk to; who had a child to enrich their life, not fill it; who made a warm and loving home out of a one-room tenement in the middle of a strange nation—these were not people who were lonely. It hurts to think of how they would have grown together as they aged, of the way their love would have deepened if father had never died. Perhaps mother would have been more inclined to travel, less afraid to stray too far from her husband’s grave for too long. Maybe her vibrancy and sharp mind would not have withered on the vine, the way I’ve no doubt father’s would have if she had been the one to an early grave. I never would have been company enough for either of them. No child could have filled that hole of grief.

Which is why I can never take a wife, nor have a child. It pains me—a sword in the soft spot of my chest—but there is nothing for it. Despite the fact that I’m sure I could find one—while I may not be much to look at, especially off stage, I am rich and, as far as anyone knows, of good stock and name. The myth of Charles Chambers has become so complete that no one remembers he appeared from thin air like one of his illusions. Charlie Coughlin, for them, was never alive.

So, yes, I could get a wife with ease—one who would, no doubt, be beautiful and clever and eager to start a family. Perhaps I could even contrive some kind of disguise to age with her, tell the children the truth when they are older. But I would have to watch them march off to the afterlife as well, and I’m not sure I could bear it. I’m not sure I could bear getting married—even without children—only to have to do it all over again with the same lies and secrets. When I fall in love—if I fell in love—I suspect it would be forever.

I have yet to discuss these matters with the one other person who understands, but how am I meant to write to John and ask his intentions toward marriage? I’m sure if he has eyes on someone, he’ll tell me when he means to propose. Or perhaps I will read about it in the papers like everyone else.

I know it is improper—immoral even, in some eyes—to think of such things, but even as a young man I thought that John was a striking—[the rest of the paragraph is crossed out so completely as to be unreadable]

It is best not to put it to paper, even here in the privacy of my diary. There is no point to such stray fantasies thoughts anyway.

I have forgotten father’s face. I had a photograph taken of mother and I before she passed but I can no longer conjure the feeling of her hand in mine nor the sound of her voice. Every friend or colleague I’ve ever known will someday fade from memory, or has already, vanishing like morning mist in the heat of the day.

Now, the face I see most clearly when I close my eyes is John’s. And his face, like my own, is ever unchanging.

[from the personal diary of C.X. Chambers]

[listen to New Year’s Day wherever you get your podcasts. to read the pre-1917 entries, join atypical artists and get access to the archive of 24 entries (5,000+ words), as well as ad-free episodes. to receive future monthly missives straight to your inbox, sign up for free here]

#journal #chambers #chambers and fogg #lauren shippen #new year's day podcast

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