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wooataes · 1 year ago

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Bangtan’s Receptionist

Pairing: Mafia Boss!Min Yoongi x Fem!Reader, implied ot7 x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: Mafia AU, swearing, Death, blood, injuries, mentions of human trafficking but nothing too detailed, guns, character death.

Summary: Bangtan’s contracts are clear and concise. They are to be followed to the letter, including the most important rule, do not touch their men.

A/N: Just another generic Mafia Yoongi Drabble I couldn’t stop thinking about since Haegeum came out. 🫠 I could possibly turn this into a little oneshot series for each member, let me know if you want more!

- Tae 🥰💜✨

Request to join my taglist here!

Masterlist

Min Yoongi, in simple terms, is a straight cut business man. With his 6 other colleagues, his brothers, he runs Bangtan Industries, which on the outside seems like a clean cut courier company. On the inside however, the cargo that is transported by Bangtan Industries is more than just letters and stationary for offices. Yoongi and his boys, as the rivals know them, are extremely loyal to their men who work alongside and under them, even so far as to including in contracts that they can be terminated if any harm comes to any member of Bangtan Industries, even as far as the janitor who cleans the office on weekends. Any attack on their men is an attack to them directly, and the whole world knows of this fact.

You were hired 3 years ago by the CEO of Bangtan, Kim Namjoon to be the front of the company, their receptionist and on occasion, assistant for all 7 leaders. They’re all particularly fond of your bubbly presence in the office building, always happily greeting the bosses with a smile and providing homemade lunches on occasion, which usually is more often than not. You always make sure the boys keep their health up, not even phased by their attitudes when they spent too many hours without sleep. You’ve been the most consistent employee, and the members are more than grateful to have you.

“Good morning, Master Min!” You chirp as Min Yoongi strolls through the office door, adjusting his tie. He can’t help but give you a soft smile.

“Y/N, you know that I’d rather you call me Yoongi when its just us. It doesn’t bother me.”

“Oh, I know, I’m just way too used to it!” You grin as you place a take-away coffee cup and a wrapped toasted sandwich on the desk in front of you. “Breakfast is served.”

“You also don’t have to do that every morning too.” He lets out a huff with a grateful smile. “I hope you got your usual too. If I find out you didn’t, I’m forcing you to take your break early to go get.” Yoongi chuckles as you wave the second paper cup on your hands. He nods with finality and takes your makeshift breakfast for him and makes his way to his office.

After a quiet morning, you’re startled by a loud bang of the doors to the entrance opening and a large man in a 3 piece suit with his gaggle of men trailing in behind him, clearly armed, stalking up to your front desk.

“Good morning, sir. How can I be of help today?” You hum, the large men not phasing you.

“We’re here to see Min.” The man grumbles, hands squeezing the edge of the desk.

“Oh of course,” you smile, typing up on your computer. “Give me a few moments to see if he’s available to see anyone right now.”

You can feel the mans eyes on you as you’re typing, waiting for the response to pop up.

“Ah, I’m sorry sir, Master Min isn’t available right now. You are more than welcome to take a seat and wait until he’s ready-”

You yelp as the man reaches over, grabbing your wrist and pulling you up so you are face to face with him. You wince, his nails digging into your skin and small trickles of blood running down your arm.

“Listen here, you little bitch,” he seethes, “i have been trying to get on Min’s ass for 2 weeks about my fucking cargo I purchased from him and it still hasn’t arrived yet. If you don’t get him out here, I’m storming in there myself and getting my shit back.”

“What on earth is going on here?” Yoongi steps out from his office after hearing the commotion, adjusting the cuff on his white button up as he stalks up to the reception desk. “Ah, Mr Yang. I was waiting for you to show up.”

“Min.” Yang hissed, dropping your wrist and pushing you back into your seat, which Yoongi takes note of. “Where the fuck is my cargo? You said it would be here within the month and yet its the 27th and nothing.”

“Miss L/N.” Yoongi speaks, causing you to snap your head towards him. “Did he hurt you?” He eyes your wrist, which you’re trying to hide under the desk, clearly not very well as it is still in Yoongi’s line of vision.

“O-oh, no, Master Min. I’m fine, really.” You stutter out, giving him a smile.

“I will deal with you after I take care of business.” He murmurs, looking down at your hidden wrist, blood smearing into your blouse. “Mr Yang, if you could come inside. I do believe my receptionist shouldnt have to deal with the likes of this, wouldn’t you agree?” His tone is icy as Yang grunts, nodding his head before pushing past Yoongi and strutting through into his office with his men following behind. “Y/N, I would recommend playing sone music for the next 10 minutes, okay?” is the last thing Yoongi asks of you before closing the door behind him.

“I dont understand why you are so upset, Yang. I gave you exactly what you asked for.” Yoongi hums, sitting at his desk and watching Yang and his men stand over the desk menacingly.

“Thats bullshit and you know it, Min.” He barked, slamming his fist on the table.

“Oh, is it?” He raises his eyebrow, leaning forward and placing his chin on his hands. “Do explain why, because the way I see it, you asked for X amount of drugs and X amount of guns and ammo. Am I wrong?”

“You know what half of those drugs were code for, you ignorant shit.”

“Oh, no no no.” Yoongi chuckled, standing up, revolver in hand. “See, now, if you were implying what you think you are implying, and I truly hope you’re not, then you’ve worked with the wrong man.” He smirked, holding the gun up towards Yang.

“You see, if you read through the terms of our contract - Bangtan do not associate with anything involving trafficking women and children. I truly hope that isnt what you wanted.” Yoongi tilted his head, glaring at Yang. “Is it?”

Yang swallowed lightly, looking between his men, who all have their guns by their sides and their hands up. They know Min’s reputation. They know better than to fuck with them.

“Ah…” Yang sighed anxiously, wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead. “You are right. I believe I was mistaken. It appears that all our cargo was in order. Isn’t that right, boys?” He glanced between his men, who all nod shakily. “Now that we have that misunderstanding out of the way, I don’t think there’s anything else to talk about, so I will take my leave now, Min.” He turns to leave, only to freeze when the revolver now presses against his temple.

“Ah ah ah, not so fast.” Yoongi chuckles, kicking Yang’s knees out from underneath him, forcing him to kneel. “I would’ve been willing to let you go, no questions asked about what fucked up shit you’re into,” he leans down now, whispering into his ear. “but then you laid hands on my receptionist.”

Yang’s eyes widen, struggling against Yoongi’s boot digging into his legs. “What?” he breathed out.

“Did you even read the contract, Yang?” Yoongi hissed now, pressing the gun harder against his head. “Now, you are more than welcome to come in here, ranting and raving about me and the shit I do, I really couldnt give a flying fuck.. but as soon as you touch my people and my men, now theres fucking hell to pay. Rule number fucking 3 my friend. Do NOT touch my men. Do you have anything to say to defend your pathetic ass?”

“I’m sorry,” Yang blubbers out, hands shaking. “I really didn’t mean it, Min! I-I-”

“Save it for hell, Yang.” He squeezes the trigger, letting the body fall to the floor.

“Come on,” you hissed, aggressively rubbing water over the sleeve of your blouse, earphones blaring music in your ears as Yoongi directed. You’ve been scrubbing for 5 minutes and sadly nothing is working for you. At this point, you haven’t even looked at your arm, now bruising and stained with small trails of your blood.

A figure steps into your line of sight, causing you to lift your head quickly and push the headphones off your head. “Oh, Master Min!” You gasp out, seeing his white shirt splattered with blood. “Did you need me to get your shirt booked in to the dry cleaner?” You start typing up the website to get the booking made when you feel his hand take your wrist.

“Does it hurt?” Yoongi asks quietly, looking down at you through his eyelashes, letting his fingertips run along the marks Yang left.

“O-oh.. um.. a little, but nothing I cant handle!” You smile sweetly at him as he shakes his head.

“You shouldn’t have to handle it at all.” He frowns, using a damp cloth to gently wipe away the trails of your blood before taking some paper towel and drying your arm off. “I do apologize, you didn’t sign up to deal with that shit. I should have been out here waiting for Yang’s arrival.”

“Master Min,” you smiled softly, letting him tend to your arm - you knew it made him feel better when he helped Bangtan with their wounds. “Please don’t stress, I knew what I signed up for for this job.”

You couldn’t help but laugh as he delicately starts placing bright pink Hello Kitty band-aids over your scratch marks.

“Dont laugh.” He grumbles, patting the band-aids down so they stick. “Jimin insisted that we got these to make Taehyung laugh whenever he was hurt.” He lied, Jimin had snuck to you that Yoongi kept his Hello Kitty band-aids with him just in case any of the girls in the office - another word for just you and you alone - were hurt - he just never got to use them until now. But you’d never tell him that you knew. Instead, you just smile and let Yoongi tend to your wounds.

It may not be the best job in the world, but at least you know your bosses have your back.

#bts angst #bts fluff #bts ot7 x reader #bts x reader #yoongi x reader #yoongi angst #yoongi mafia AU #BTS mafia AU #BTS AU #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi x You #min yoongi

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squiddy-god · 2 months ago

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If you ever write manhandling hcs or even a couple thoughts for Wuwa Geshulin or Jiyan.. I would be so grateful 🥺🙏💕

The way I stopped playing genshin when i saw this and started writing immediately because im lowkey obsessed with genshu lin like,,,his dark circles and bad personality have captivated me. I'm also very very obsessed with calcharo because he is the reason i started playing this game, but jiyan,,,augh genuinely wuwa needs to stop making men that are just so,,,so good,,, this assumes that genshu lin is like still living (i haven't gotten that far in the story) ♥︎REQUEST OPEN♥︎

Cw : manhandling obviously, possessiveness, jealousy, war mention, brief mention of canon typical violence, inappropriate touching of tacet mark, inappropriate use of electro,dry humping, overstim (genshu lin), prone bone, dare i say…jiyan Diphallia teehee, dragon rut (sue me) gn reader, all genders and sexes welcome reader is not specified to be rover, always implied chubby reader

Genshu lin

Augh him-

Ok so i think that when he manhandles you it is totally on purpose

Genshu lin is very strong physically, as expected of a former general,, but he has the world's meanest manhandling streak in him

Honestly there aren't a lot of times he's not manhandling you

I feel that there is a sort of deep seeded inferiority complex and a lot of that stems from his failure as former general and rivalry with jiyan, this however tends to bleed into other areas, causing there to be a harsh spike in jealousy for a man who is already on the jealous side

What really gets him going is when someone shamelessly hits on you, not an often occurrence but it happens mostly on the off chance he isn't breathing down your neck

Watching the other person flirt to their best attempt flares a possessiveness inside of genshu lin that has one of his hands gripping your hip as he quite literally drags you away

The force makes you stumble and you realize that his previous good mood is gone

He isn't mad at you, assuming that you shut the other person down pretty immediately

He loves to overstimulate you, hand on your sternum using his strength to keep you pinned down while he toys with you, constantly reminding you that he knows you can take it, take more, take as much as he gives until you are a shaking mess in his arms

And inevitably you are a shaking mess, chest heaving as the pressure from his palm finally lets up and admires his work, only for the real fun to begin- flipping your body onto your stomach and gripping the back of your thighs to squish them roughly in appreciation, admiring the soft plush feel in his rough hands, calloused from hardship

Ounces he's had his fill of your thighs one hands presses roughly at the base of your spine traveling up the curve of your arched back until he can grip your jaw and turn you just enough to look at him

Its like genshu lin was made for manhandling because he seem to naturally be more on the rough side, from the way his scared lips press against you to roughly suck hickeys, to the way his hands grope and twist you, hold you against him, pin you down, you'd think it was a sparring match if it wasn't for the delicious press of his hard cock against you

And for him to know that you like it? that you enjoy the rough way he handles you? Honestly it makes him worse, teasing you about how you cant be whining that its “too much” already, because he knows that you like it when he punctuates his words with more harsh thrust, another tug, another squelch-

Jiyan

Oh this sweet man

When jiyan man handles you it's unintentional and he feels quite bad after

Even when you tell him that you like when he just manhandles you, he's hesitant. He likes to be gentle, to spare you the harshness of war and death, regardless of your background it's a habit of his to feel the need to shoulder these burdens

Like i said he doesn't mean to manhandle you- but the comfort of your presence, your embrace, combined with the long periods of time spend on the front lines means he often forgets his strength- eyes snapping to attention when he hears the noise you let out as he pulls you into him- because there is a force behind it, his hands grip you tight and he pulls you

He's honestly such husband material

He has a habit of almost trapping you against him, be it against counters or simply keeping you pinned in his embrace, jiyan becomes rather touch starved during his time away and tries to soak in as much touch as he can

He really doesn't realize in the moment how rough he gets, the way he sucks at your neck as he uses his body to pin yours against the wall of his (rarely used) home

Its an effortless move, his knee nudging your legs apart just enough so that he can gather you in his arms to press you further against the wall

Its times like this that he seems to show off his strength

The way his every movement doesn't even seem to faze him because to him you truly feel so pliant in his hands, a ragdoll as he slings one of your legs over his hip and allows his hands to hold you as much as he wants

When he sees the light bruising his fingers left from the grip on your stomach a wave of shame floods him at the realization that he may have gotten slightly carried away pounding into you

But fret not for there are times the general decides to indulge both you and himself, after much reassurance that you can handle it, that it will be fine he decides to give in and handle you roughly, a look of tender concern still lingers in his eyes but he also cant deny that being able to grope and grab at your soft body flares his instincts and makes him incredibly hard.

His rut is hard, being so pent up and all but refusing to take leave means he end up become more irritable and aggressive, and when he is finally forced to take leave he loses himself the second you tell him he dosnt have to be gentle with you

Two dicks two dicks two dicks two dic-

Ok but seriously the first time you had sex with him was,,,something, because imagine if you will, your peacefully making out with him, hes hard as a rock because physical touch is not his forte (hahah im so funny) and when you glance down you gulp because daymn…a warning would be nice there general

Your slightly relieved when he begins to tug down his pants, his first cock springing free- dont get me wrong you were still mourning the loss of your ability to walk but, this was manageable.

Your jaw absolutely drops when he pushes his pants down further and the second cock springs free- oh …oh no ;)

Calcharo

Oh i need him, i need him desperate and panting like a dog tbh

Calcharo is another that forgets his own strength, job after job leaving him not only grumpy but also forgetting that he's strong- strong enough to pull you into his embrace and here the little wheeze you let out

Strong enough to grab and squish your cheeks in his calloused hands while he grinds his hips against you

He hasn't even taken his clothes off, he’s nasty and sweaty but he's just so desperate to get any part of you

Prying that out of his mouth is impossible tho, he is huffing and panting in your ear before squishing your face for another rough kiss

One thing leads to another and he finally cant take just humping himself against you…grabbing your thighs and pushing them apart while you whine that he should shower first-or that he needs to slow down he's instead nipping at your neck and pushing you further into whatever surface he has you against

He usually isn't so desperate but he's grown used to your touch, used to you, so after being away longer than unusual on a job he is down right ravenous for whatever he can get.

That isn't to say he doesn't manhandle you at other times, he is rough by nature so its quite often that he finds himself pulling or moving you in a way that could be considered manhandling, but it is just worse when you catch him in a mood where he feels desperate

Getting him to admit that he feels this way is just about impossible but you can tell with the way he kisses you, the way he buries his head in the crook of your neck, the way his hands roam and cant seem to get enough of you

His brows are knit together in the same aggravated way they always seem to be, but his lips are parted and the way he

Please i need him so bad

#wuwa x reader #wurthering waves x reader #wurthering waves #geshu lin #geshu lin x reader #wuwa jiyan #jiyan x reader #jiyan wuthering waves #calcharo x reader #calcharo #wuwa calcharo #calcharo wuthering waves #calcharo wuwa #wuwa geshu lin #geshu lin wuwa #geshu lin wuthering waves #wuwa x y/n #wuwa x you #wuwa

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redr0sewrites · 1 month ago

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First Taste of You

🥀A/n: Loki is my comfort character and i wanted to write something tiny as i haven't posted in a hot minute bc im writing a lot of *spoilers* for november. might write a pt2 to this w actual smut, might not... who knows.

🥀Cw: suggestive/nothing explicit, implied that reader is an avenger + lives in stark tower with Loki

cocky, charming, and manipulative. when you first met Loki, his impression was always of someone in need of constant control and attention- especially yours. he was always busying himself by bothering you, getting in your way by any means necessary if only to receive your focus for even just a short time. however, the more he was around, the more you began to like him, and an unlikely friendship began to bloom. suddenly, you both were inseparable, bonding over both your similarities and differences.

the attraction was obvious fo the both of you, and while you never actually went farther than teasing and flirting, the desire was so strong it was nearly tangible. soon, it turned into an enticing game of cat and mouse, seeing how far he could go and flirt before you finally snap and push through the boundary between friends and something more. fortunately for you, (and unfortunately for him), your patience with the god seemed to be never ending- until one day, he went too far. now, you have him pinned against a wall, cheeks rosy and bodies flushed together.

"so this is what it took to get you riled up?" Loki coos, green eyes narrowed as you pressed against him. "i would have flirted with them months earlier if it meant this reaction, darli-" you yank at his collar, tugging him down to your height and kissing him hard. the kiss is sloppy, all teeth and tongue and lust, but Loki's gently hands cupping your cheeks speak volumes. Loki's head knocks back against the wall with a soft clunk, and he winces beneath your touch.

"slow down," he murmurs against your lips, but his actions don't coincide with his words, considering the lustful rocking of his hips against yours and the firm hands now moving to grip your waist, pulling you impossibly close. you capture his bottom lip between your teeth and a soft whine melts into a groan as one of your hands finds its way to his scalp, tugging hard. he looks down at you with his usual teasing expression, as though he can't even believe how bold you've become.

"ffuck- someone's needy, huh?"

"you can never just shut the fuck up, can you?"

Loki smirks at your words, eying you with thinly veiled want.

"we really shouldn't be away from this party for too long..." he murmurs, pulling away from your lips to whisper in your ear. "it would be a shame if someone noticed our absence..."

"fuck the Stark party, theres one practically every other day. you hate those things anyway," you grumble, and Loki chuckles yet again.

"true... but, alas, if i am successful in wooing you, which considering our current position, i feel as though i might be.." you narrow your eyes as Loki continues smirking that signature grin, "then i wouldn't want my first taste of you to be in a random hallway, now would i? come to my quarters tonight, and i'll give you your compensation for making you wait oh so long. until then, let's return to the party, hm? wouldn't want to keep your little friends waiting," he sneers, but his eyes betray his affectionate intent.

"you really are a sweet talker, y'know that?" you huff, pulling away from him. you hadn't noticed how his knee had become wedged between your thighs, nor how tangled your hands were in his hair, but it was certainly obvious now. Loki eyes you cautiously, almost as though he's afraid your angry.

"we shouldn't go back together, that will make it incredibly obvious. i'll see you in a few hours," you turn to walk away, Loki still leaning against the wall with a reassured, dazed smirk on his face. you turn around to call back one last time.

"and fix your hair! it looks messy."

"i like messy," he purrs, and you roll your eyes.

"flirt."

"you fell for me, dear."

"see you later!" you say exaggeratedly, turning away so he can't catch the giddy expression on your face. fuck, you can't wait for tonight.

i wrote this as a little tide over since i haven't posted any writing in a HOT MINUTE,,,, i promise that im cooking i have a lot of things in plan for november bear with me 😇 anywayd i desperately need to write more for marvel its one of my favorite fandoms so if anyone has any requests,,,,,, please please please 🙏

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ewanmitchellcrumbs · 1 year ago

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Invidia

Pairing: Modern!Aemond Targaryen x f!reader Warnings: Plot? I don't know her. Jealousy, dom/sub dynamics, slightly toxic relationship, alcohol consumption, light choking, spit kink, light bondage, P in V action, use of sex toys, overstimulation, degrading language, slight praise kink, implied oral (m receiving) Word count: ~1.7k

Summary: Aemond dishes out a punishment that won't soon be forgotten when his partner attempts to make him jealous. Based on this request.

Author's note: I don't have a tag list - please follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications. Community labels are for cops.

Her grip tightens around her martini glass, eyes narrowing, as jealousy bubbles acrid and bitter within her chest.

She watches as the dark haired woman grazes her perfectly manicured nails over Aemond’s bicep, red stained lips pulling back into a saccharine smile, revealing pearly white teeth. She knows the woman is drop dead gorgeous, but in her envious state she sees only a predatory threat to her relationship, her thoughts darkened and unkind with internalised misogyny.

Worse still is that Aemond appears to be doing nothing to stop her, he is allowing this woman to flirt shamelessly with him. While his mannerisms are impassive, not returning the woman’s touches or suggestive grins, she believes he should be making it explicitly clear he is unavailable.

She hadn’t even wanted to come this evening, she had been desperate for a quiet night in front of the TV, just her and Aemond. He’d insisted they go though; the opening night of Aegon’s new cocktail bar and he simply had to support his family. So she’d dolled herself up, allowed herself to be dragged along and how here he was making a mockery of her.

Two can play at that game.

She wants to make him feel every bit as jealous as she does, to remind him he isn’t the only desirable person in their relationship, and she knows just the person who will strike that blow hardest.

Scanning the crowd, she spots the man of the hour propping up the bar, tipping back tequila shots.

Swallowing the remnants of her drink in a single gulp, she winces slightly as the combination of vodka and vermouth burns lightly in her throat, then heads over to where Aegon is standing.

“Hey, you,” She greets him in a sing-song voice, reaching out to brush her fingers against his forearm. “Love what you’ve done with the place!”

“Thanks,” He says with a smirk, his eyes traveling over her appreciatively, before nodding towards her glass. “Looks like you’re empty, shall I get you another?”

She knows that the music isn’t so loud that she can’t be heard by simply raising her voice a little, but she also knows that doing that won’t grant her the attention she so desperately seeks from Aemond. So, she leans in, her lips brushing against the shell of Aegon’s ear as she whispers to him.

“Oh, I would love one, thank you!”

Drawing back, she watches the bob of his throat with a satisfied smile, as he swallows thickly. She was having the desired effect on one brother, at least.

“You got it,” He tells her, his hand brushing hers as he relieves her of the empty glass and turns back towards the bar, holding up two fingers towards the bartender.

It’s then that she feels a firm but gentle grasp on her upper arm and turns to look up into the steely gaze of Aemond. The taut bun that his long, silver hair is pulled back into leaves his face unobscured, so the hardened lines of anger are unmistakable. While his left eye remains milky and lifeless, the fury that burns bright within the blue of his right more than makes up for its absence.

A shiver runs through her. Perhaps she has pushed this too far.

“We’re leaving,” He tells her flatly.

Her eyes widen as she tries to protest. “But Aegon’s just getting me a dri–”

“I wasn’t asking,” He shoots back, grabbing her hand and leading her through the crowded bar.

He is silent on the drive home. The hand that would usually rest against her thigh keeps a firm grasp of the steering wheel as he stares straight ahead.

The tension inside the car is unbearable. She knows she’s in trouble. Her stomach flutters nervously, wondering what she can say to calm him down, but can come up with nothing that she doesn’t think will enrage him further, so she stays silent.

The moment they arrive home, he spins her around to face him, pressing her against the wall, causing her to gasp. His hand grasps lightly against her throat as he stares her down. Arousal pools warm between her thighs.

“Just what the fuck was that tonight?” He hisses lowly.

“I-I was just chatting to Aegon…” She stammers, gazing up at Aemond, doe-eyed.

“Oh, it looked like it was more than chatting, much more.”

“It wasn’t, I swear!” She whines, regretting ever having approached Aegon in the first place, but unable to shake the effect that Aemond’s display of dominance is having on her.

“Hm,” He raises his free hand towards her face, tugging at her bottom lip with his thumb. “Open.”

She opens her mouth, steeling herself for what’s to come, but still shivers when she feels him spit harshly onto her tongue. She swallows without having to be asked, inwardly delighted at the hum of approval that Aemond emits.

“Thought you could use something to accompany the filthy lies that are coming out of your mouth,” He mutters darkly, his grip on her throat tightening.

She whimpers as her resolve crumbles. “That woman was flirting with you!”

“Ah, there it is,” He smirks. “You behaved like a stupid, little slut with my brother because you were jealous? Pathetic.”

“She was all over you, you did nothing to stop her!” She snaps back, feeling herself grow angry.

“But I didn’t do anything, did I?” He snarls, eye narrowing. “If you saw the number of women I turn down when you aren’t around you’d fucking cry, yet I can’t trust you not to throw yourself at my brother. Would you rather be with him instead?”

“No, Aemond, I only want you!” She clings desperately to the front of his black button up shirt.

“Is that so?” He cocks his head slightly, his hand still around her throat.

“Yes, I was just trying to make you jealous. I’m sorry,” She pleads.

“Hm. You’re about to be. Bedroom. Now.”

He releases her throat and she walks on unsteady feet towards their shared bedroom, nervous excitement making her heart race.

She lays back on the bed, biting her lip in anticipation, as Aemond stands at the foot of it, the metal clink of his belt being unfastened the only sound in the room. The audible slide of the leather against the cotton of his suit trousers as he removes it from the loops causes her skin to break out into gooseflesh.

“Wrists together. Above your head,” He orders.

She does as she’s told, her throat running dry when she feels the mattress dip either side of her as Aemond straddles her, winding his belt around her wrists and using it to bind them to the headboard.

“Colour?” He asks simply, making eye contact.

“Green,” She whispers.

“Good girl,”

The praise shoots straight to her core, making her clench around nothing. He leaves her with no time to ponder on what his next move might be, as his hands disappear beneath her skirt to tug down her underwear.

She arches off of the mattress slightly as his deft fingers swipe through her folds, coming away glistening with her slick.

“Little slut,” He whispers, before freeing his cock, showing he’s every bit as turned on as she is.

He takes a firm hold of her hip with one hand, grasping the base of his erection with the other and forces himself all the way in to the hilt in one fluid motion.

She is wet enough that any preparation isn’t required, but the sudden stretch still steals her breath away.

Aemond’s thrusts are quick and sure, his hips snapping against hers harshly as he brings his thumb between their bodies to rub at her clit in rapid, tight circles.

Her nails bite into the leather of the belt around her wrists, struggling to ground herself as pleasure builds steadily within her gut, each slap of his skin against hers nudging her closer to the edge.

His breathy pants combined with the look of determination on his face give her the final shove she needs, and she falls apart with blinding white warmth that washes over her from head to toe.

She’d believe her punishment was over were it not for the fact that Aemond has yet to cum. His low chuckle as he stills inside of her is all the indication she needs that he’s just getting started. He leans over, never slipping out of her, and pulls her Hitachi magic wand from a drawer of the bedside table.

Fuck.

“Colour?” Aemond demands again, his voice husky.

“G-green,” She breathes shakily.

He purses his lips. “We’ll see about that.”

The jolt that rockets through her body when he presses the toy against her, at maximum speed, causes her to squeal. He keeps it there, resuming his thrusts inside of her and the combination of the two is too much. She trembles all over, her mind feeling foggy.

“What are you going to do the next time you feel jealous?” Aemond asks.

“N-fuck-nothing!”

“Good girl. And that’s because you can trust me.”

A sob of pleasure is ripped from her as another orgasm has her tightening and spasming around Aemond uncontrollably. He shows her no mercy, keeping the wand firmly on her, the momentum of his hips never slowing.

Aemond’s breathing is ragged, sweat visible upon his brow from exertion. “Do you trust that yours is the only cunt I want to bury myself inside of?”

“Aemond…please…” She mewls piteously, overstimulation making her shake.

“I need you to say it,” He grits out.

She tugs involuntarily at her restraints, tipping her head back. “Yes, I trust you!”

He brings her to peak three more times, before he finally relents. “Colour?”

“Yellow,” She says weakly, voice hoarse and eyes teary.

Aemond switches the toy off, tossing it to the side and slowly pulls out of her. She hisses at the sensation, noticing that he is still rock hard, not having peaked himself yet.

He rubs gently at her wrists as he unfastens the belt, helping to get the blood circulating once more. Brushing his lips against her temple, damp with perspiration, he whispers softly to her. “I’m not done with you yet, just giving that sweet little pussy of yours a rest. For now–” He leans back on his haunches and taps the head of his cock against her lips. “You can put that pretty mouth of yours to work, you’ve got quite the mess to clean up.”

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More Aemond fics

#aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #prince aemond targaryen #aemond #aemond stannies #pro aemond targaryen #modern aemond #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen smut #hotd #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen fan fiction #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen fan fic #hotd fan fiction #hotd fanfiction #hotd fan fic #hotd fanfic

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endious · 2 years ago

Text

c’mon you can take it.

ft. jtk x f!reader

cw. dubcon, blowjob, face fucking, dacryphilia, spitting, degradation, hair pulling, slight praise, implied knifeplay at the end // wc. 2k

It was almost too cute the way your tiny hands pawed at his thighs, an even cuter pout on your lips as you look at him with glassy doe eyes. You seemed to know what worked the best on him, you fucking minx.

“What do ya want, doll?” It’s more of an order to answer rather than a question as his index and thumb grab your chin lifting your head up just a bit more. His thumb rubs around your bottom lip and he can see the soft begging look in your eyes but he wants you to say it, he gets off knowing and hearing you say what you want. Another way of defiling your warm innocence that crumbles away with each tainted touch of him.

“Wan’ you..” Oh and he can never get enough of that embarrassment on your face. Your cheeks hot to the touch and your brows furrowed as you try to gather up enough courage to speak your thoughts.

“I’m right here,” He laughs, pinching your cheeks together to smush your face before letting you go, a smug look on his face. “You have to be more specific than that, doll. Tell me what you want.”

Your eyes flick down to his crotch before looking back up into his eyes. You aren’t very good at hiding it, in fact you’re very much obvious in the way you’re behaving like a cat in heat right now.

“Want your…” You mumble, soft lips pushed out in a pout again as your fingers move to toy with the chain attached to a belt loop hanging off his pants. The soft clinking of the metal fills the silence of your bedroom.

“Hm? I didn’t quite hear ya.” He grins widely and you push your face down onto his stomach with a whine. You’re avoiding answering him and it’s cute but he wants you to say it, needs you to say what you want before he gives it to you. He enjoys seeing how desperate you’re willing to become to get what you want from him.

His hand finds its place on your cheek, lifting your head up and the look on his face when he stares down at you makes your tummy swirl with fluttering warmth.

“Do you want it?” You nod silently in response and he laughs, “Then say it, princess.”

You shake your head. “It’s too embarrassing.”

“Is it really now?” He chuckles, letting his hand reach your hair before grabbing a handful and tugging just a bit, enough to make your pupils dilate the slightest bit more at the subtle pain. “Say it and I might stay a little longer.”

That seems to click with you. Your voice is quiet, “I… wanna suck your cock, Jeff.” Oh the added bit of shyness is just the cherry on top, makes his dick spring up in an instant while his jagged lips curl up into a smile.

“Yeah?” He grins, tilting his head while the ends of his black hair tickle your skin. “Wanna suck me off? Be a good little slut and choke on it?” It’s humiliating the way he’s saying it, using a condescending tone as he grabs your chin tight to make you look up at him.

He grins wider at the glassy gleam in your doe eyes. “Then take these off and do it, doll.” He grabs your hair and tugs your face towards his crotch making you nearly squeak. “It’s not that hard to do y’know?” If you could slap that smug look off his face you would, but you’re far too needy to care about his bully behavior right now.

Your fingers tremble with want, eyes glossy as you blink at the shiny zipper before curling your index under it and pulling down, the sound of the slow ziiiiip makes your thighs squeeze tighter together. You felt impatient yet so patient for it at the same time.

He’s grinning at how eager you are, leaning back on the bed to give you better access while you tug the button undone and reach for his belt. He can see the way you’re practically drooling over the large tent in his pants as his belt clinks in your much smaller hands and is also tugged loose. Your eyes lift up to look at him and fuck he could shove you onto his throbbing cock right now if you keep staring at him with that slutty look in your eyes. Like you want him to fucking break you.

“What is it, doll?” He asks, voice low and he sees the hearts swimming in your eyes. “Do you need permission?” He snickers at you to which you pout before tugging on his black jeans until they rest against his knees. You were greedy to get to his dick weren’t you?

Your fingers curl under the band of his boxers, staring up at him with needy eyes as you pull them down. You wiggle a bit, squishing your perfect tits together in that tank top of yours, giving him the perfect view from where you lay on your belly with your arms propping you up. Your cute ass being hugged tight by those shorts you always seemed to wear when he was around. It’s like you wanted to rile him up.

He hums, the sound rumbling in his chest when his cock is freed from it’s confinements and your lips part slightly at the sight of his hard cock, the tip leaking pearly beads of precum that make your mouth water.

He grabs it by the base and slaps it against your cheek just barely, enough to see the small glint of his cum on your face while you make an embarrassed look. How cute, how pathetic.

“Go on, suck.” He smiles, lips curling up in a creepy grin that seems to stretch his scars while he pushes the tip of his cock against your soft lips.

Your eyes look down at it once more, wrapping a hand around it after he removes his own before kissing the tip softly, gently. Your tongue peeks out, kitten licks against it to taste the salty fluid just waiting to be licked up by you. It arouses you more than it probably should, your hips wiggling as you let out a needy whine.

He groans quietly, hand finding its place in your hair he pulls rather roughly. “Don’t fucking tease me.” He warns but it makes your body shiver with want, eyes sparkly as you look up at him for a moment before focusing back on his cock. Your lips wrap around the tip, sucking just a bit before taking more of his length into your mouth with a soft moan that vibrates around his cock making his jaw tighten at the feeling.

His fingers nearly dig into your scalp, nudging you down a bit more as he grows impatient and it’s only when you start to struggle a bit that he snaps and thrusts up into your mouth making you gag around him. You pull yourself off with a soft pop, coughing for a second before he’s pushing you back down onto his length, your fingernails digging into his thighs as you look up at him hopelessly while he uses you like a fleshlight.

He grins down at you, his fingers tugging on your hair as you stare up at him with watery eyes, your nails digging into his thighs.

“Aw is it too much? Can’t take all of my cock?” He pushes you down further, his dick touching the back of your throat as you choke and gag around him. “All that pretty makeup is ruined now, huh?” He likes how you look though. Your mascara running in streaks down your cheeks, creating a mess of all that hard work you did on your look earlier. He doesn’t care though, he’s glad he’s the reason you look so messy and humiliating right now.

Pretty tears fall down your face as you struggle to take his cock, his hand tugging your head up and down his length. His jaw tightens and he bucks up into your mouth again and the way your throat tightens around him had him wanting to do it again despite the taps your poor little fingers were doing against his thigh. “Fuckkk, such a tight little throat. Want me to cum all over your face, doll? Make an even bigger mess?” The little whimpers you make only rile him up more and he’s starting to care less and less about if he hurts you now, only chasing after his high as he throws his head back with a groan.

Your finger taps pathetically at his leg, hoping he’d listen to let up but he doesn’t. He either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care enough to stop and give you a break. Your throat burns and your jaw aches as he uses you, pushing you up and down his length like you were a toy meant to be used by him.

The sight of him right now though was enough to make your hand retreat down to the burning warmth between your legs, rubbing fast circles over your clit through your shorts as tears slip down your face and you moan around his cock loudly.

“Such a whore, huh?” He grunts, a particularly rough push on the back of your head to follow his words. “Drooling, makin’ a mess on my cock. You like to be used don’t you? You like it when I force you to choke on my cock you pathetic little slut—“ His words are cut off by a hissed intake of air, his fingers tugging on your hair so roughly you might worry he’d pull strands out of your scalp but the lines are blurred and all you feel is overwhelming pressure building up inside of you.

He notices the way your hips are rolling into the mattress under you, eyes rolling back slightly as you suck on his dick with loud moans and whines. “You’re playin’ with yourself aren’t you?” You seem to grow worried at that, your brows furrowed slightly and your eyes wide at the hidden warning in his voice as he spoke. “I’ll fuckin’ beat you if ya are, doll.” His hand reaches down between your legs where he finds your own tiny hand still rubbing away at your puffy pussy despite his words.

He grins, a strained laugh as he pushes his cock down your throat and holds you there while you choke and gag around him. “Stupid bitch, couldn’t follow one simple rule, huh?” He seems amused if anything. It was predictable that you’d get too lost in lust to hold back. “I’ll just have to remind you of what happens when you don’t listen. Now swallow my cum, whore. Don’t you dare waste a— ngh, drop of it.” His hand pulls you up and down his cock a few more times, guttural groans leaving him while he grits his teeth and his jaw clenches tight as hot spurts of cum hit the back of your throat before he bottoms out in your mouth.

Your hands grab helplessly at his thighs as you hold back from coughing around him at the overwhelming feeling of his seed filling your mouth.

“Swallow.” He orders when he tugs you off his cock covered in a shiny veil of your spit while you stifle a choked cough and swallow with a small whimper when he pulls you closer by your hair. You open your mouth, sticking your tongue out and he hums in approval before suddenly letting a glob of spit land in your mouth and he smears your drool over your lips with a grin. “What a good doll.”

The simple praise makes a droopy smile grace your face but it’s short lived when you feel cold steel running over your bare thigh making you shiver with a small gasp.

“Now it’s time for your punishment, yeah?” He tilts his head, scars stretching into a wide and scary smile as he pushes the blunt edge of the blade against your plush skin, inching it closer to the damp spot against your shorts. “Be a good painslut and take it f’me.”

#jeff the killer smut #creepypasta smut #creepypasta x reader #jeff the killer x reader #jeff the killer x y/n #jeff the killer x you #jeff the killer #creepypasta

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theaudacitytowrite · 10 months ago

Text

Stay Awake! - Part 1

Materlist

Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

A/N: An attempt at a spooky fic:) This is based on a creepy story my siblings used to tell me when we were little and back then it scared the shit out of me. Whether it really is scary is debatable^^

Time wise it starts a day before Halloween.

Also, since I only started watching SPN (on S4 currently) I'm quite sure this might be a bit off timeline wise. For example I needed an animal for the story but I have no idea when/how long Mircale is around in the series.

warnings: dolls, cursing, implied smut, bad horror (Season 1-esque storyline), Canon? What's that?

Golden divider = new day

black dividers = new setting/some time has passed

word count: 5.891

Dean’s feet lazily dragged over the ground. He groaned and huffed, sometimes a yawn would leave his throat.

„Come on, big boy. Let’s try it here.” you dragged him behind you while holding his hand so he would actually follow you.

You stepped up to the bed and breakfast, a rustic little single-family house. Dean and you were in desperate need of a place to stay the night. You had just finished a gruelling hunt and were beyond exhausted. But so far you hadn’t had any luck. All the motels in the area were booked.

“We can just sleep in Baby,” Dean muttered groggily.

“So you can whine about your sore back for the next couple of days?” you looked over your shoulder to look at him with a raised brow, “No thanks.”

"I wanna go home! My feet hurt, my back aches already and I'm tired! We've been on our feet the past 3 days!" he whined, pouting like a little overtired child.

“I know, my feet hurt just as bad and I’ve been awake just as long as you, you little baby.” you teased, “And I want to go home, too, but I don’t think it would be a good idea to drive another 5 hours to get home, while you nor I can keep our eyes open.” Dean grumbled but seemed to follow you more willingly now as he heard your reasoning.

When you entered the B&B a foul smell made its way to your nose immediately. It was sweet yet sour at the same time. You were surrounded by weird-looking paintings, figurines, and a collection of creepy dolls. It was quite dusty and weirdly gloomy in the house, and something just didn't feel right.

"Since when are bed and breakfasts worse than motels?" Dean muttered into your ear as he tried to not touch anything while walking through the small, crammed foyer to head to the unoccupied front desk.

"I don't know. We rarely visit bed and breakfasts." you shrugged as you let your gaze wander through the odd room. Dean scrunched his nose and almost pressed himself against you as he followed you like a shadow.

"Something wrong?" you glanced at him with an amused look.

"Nah." he shook his head and took a step back, "Just hurry up and ring the bell, so we can leave again."

“Leave again? You don’t think they have any vacant rooms?” you chuckled, “You’re so pessimistic.”

“I hope they have no free rooms.” Dean huffed.

"We have to tell Sam about this cosy little B&B. He'll love it here!" you snickered as your eyes roamed over the décor.

"He sure would…" Dean pressed his lips together, trying to breathe as little as possible. He bumped into you when you suddenly halted your steps, your gaze fixed on the fireplace in the next room.

"Do you see that doll?" you pointed in the direction of the fireplace. On top of it sat a little wooden doll with a rancid-looking dress. What caught your attention was, besides her size of an actual baby, her fluent movements. The doll seemed to wave in your direction, a wide grin plastered on her face.

"You mean that spawn of hell that creepily waves at us?" Dean dryly asked.

“Mhm… unnerving.” you hummed, completely focused on the doll.

„Good evening!“ the warm voice of an elderly woman suddenly chimed up, making you and Dean jump. “Oh dear, I didn’t mean to scare the two of you.”

“All good.” you chuckled, clutching your heart.

“How can I help the two of you?” the woman smiled endearingly.

“We were wondering if you still have a room available for one night. We tried every motel and hotel, but they’re all booked.”

“Yes, my dear. We still have enough rooms.” the woman quickly looked through her little notebook, “We got two with single beds and another free one with a double.”

“I wonder why…” Dean muttered next to you, earning a swift nudge from your elbow into his ribs.

“We would love to take the one with the double bed.” you smiled sweetly at the woman.

After checking in the old woman led you to your room. To your relief, the room itself was much brighter and less smelly than the foyer. And even the number of dolls was drastically lower and the décor was much more modern.

“Heh… weird.” Dean chuckled as he looked through the room.

“What?” you hummed as you rummaged through your bag.

“Isn’t that the doll that sat on the fireplace downstairs?” Dean inclined his head as he approached the doll that sat on an old commode.

“Maybe she got two?” you shrugged, heading into the bathroom to take a shower.

"Mhm." was Dean's only response as he inspected the doll. It seemed like there were no mechanics at all. Still, her motions were so fluent and lively. Dean carefully picked her up to not break her. He pulled away the crunchy feeling fabric as he searched for the battery pocket but couldn't find one, no matter where he looked.

"Must be some kind of solar thing," he murmured to himself and shrugged. He plucked down the little dress the doll was wearing when an idea popped into his mind, a mischievous grin spreading on his lips.

As you returned from the shower half an hour later and opened the door without suspecting anything bad, you jumped immediately.

“For fucks sake, Dean!” you growled as the doll sat in front of the bathroom door, smiling sympathetically at you as she waved. Dean meanwhile was giggling while lying on the bed, elated that he had scared you successfully.

“Got you!” he cackled triumphantly, making you roll your eyes at him.

“You're lucky I love you.” you grumbled.

“I know.” he smiled sweetly, before heading for a shower himself, pecking your cheek swiftly as he passed you. "Shouldn't have let your guard down..."

The two of you soon settled down in bed, overripe for a good night’s sleep. Dean was out almost immediately as his head hit the pillow. You on the other hand seemed not so lucky.

You lay wide awake in the bed, not knowing why. All you wanted to do was sleep. Maybe it was the unfamiliar surroundings, maybe it was the rest of the adrenaline from the hunt that still ran through your veins. And it didn’t help that Dean was felling trees right next to you. One day you’d smother him if he wouldn’t get that snore checked out.

You jumped slightly when there was a soft thud echoing through the room. You glanced at the clock that stood on the bedside table. A few minutes past 3a.m. You glanced at Dean who was still fast asleep, completely unbothered by the sound. He really was exhausted.

You sat up in the bed and scanned the room. You chuckled when you realised that your duffle bag had fallen from a chair onto the ground. You lay back down and sigh, trying to give sleep another try. You nuzzled against Dean who quickly encased you in a hug, pulling you against his chest. You hummed contently and finally managed to drift off to sleep.

The next morning you and Dean woke up early, quickly throwing everything into your bags before you zipped them up and quickly checked out.

The old woman wasn’t too thrilled that you declined her breakfast buffet which consisted of off-colour sausages and weirdly looking eggs. She was appeased when Dean and you at least took a bread roll each before saying your goodbyes and hurrying out of the smelly B&B.

As soon as Baby rounded the corner, you threw out the stale bread rolls in favour of stopping at a drive-in to get a quick breakfast that wouldn’t get stuck in your throat and take you out.

It was around noon when Dean and you finally arrived back at the bunker, and you quickly started to get your bags out of the car and restock the ammunition and the rest of your weapon arsenal. You'd had a lot to get done, unpacking your dirty clothes to get them washed and repacking the bags for the next hunt as soon as possible. This had been all you've been doing lately, hurrying from one case to another without getting a real break.

When you wandered into the bedroom and opened your duffle bag you almost fainted.

“DEAN! What the fuck!?” you screamed enraged.

“What?” Dean looked at you innocently as he entered your shared room.

“Don’t look at me all innocent!” you scolded him, “You know exactly what you did!”

“As much as I want to take the praise for it, …I don’t.” Dean dryly replied, smiling at you tight-lipped.

“Then please enlighten me how else this freakish thing appeared in my bag!” you pointed into your bag in which the doll from the B&B laid neatly on top of your belongings.

“Dunno.” Dean shrugged, “I swear, Y/N. I didn’t put it in there. It must’ve fallen over when we packed. I mean, I didn’t even touch your bag until you gave it to me to put it in the trunk.”

“Sure.” you glare at him, not believing a single word.

“I swear.” he chuckles, trying to get your good grace back by hugging you tightly from behind, peppering your cheeks with kisses.

“Don’t suck up now.” you giggle.

“But I gotta cheer you up.” he murmured.

“Then be a dear and throw it out. I’m not gonna touch that thing.” you muttered, looking at the doll in disdain.

“Sure thing, my love.” he gave you another peck on your cheek before unravelling his arms from your waist. He picked up the doll, holding it in front of his face. “Bye-bye, Y/N.” he tried to mimic a creepy voice as he walked backwards out of the room.

“You’re such a dork.” you chuckled, shaking your head and continuing to unpack.

It didn’t take long when you heard another shriek resound through the bunker. You quickly hurried to the source of the turmoil, coming to a halt in front of Sam’s room. You were met by Dean who was toppled over in laughter while Sam was sitting on the floor, chest heaving while the doll was sitting on his bed, smiling endearingly as she never ceased to wave.

“Dean, you’re an idiot.” you can’t help but giggle a little.

“I had to, darling.” Dean wipes away a tear he had shed from laughing so hard.

“Did you?!” Sam snarled, scrambling to get back to his feet.

“Oh come on, Sammy. T’was just a joke.” Dean grins triumphantly, shrugging innocently before patting his brother's back teasingly.

“You good, Sam?” you tried so hard to bite back a grin yourself. Sam cleared his throat and nodded.

“Now that I got the two of you here, we could talk about the agenda of the coming days.” Sam changed the topic, earning a groan from Dean.

“How about you let us come back and settle in first.” Dean huffed annoyed.

“Bobby called me repeatedly already. He needs us down at his house. He got a pressing case for us and told me to come down as soon as you two came back.”

“Can we at least have one more day?” Dean bargained, letting his head fall back, “I still need to wash my clothes, else I’ll have to wear my boxers inside out.”

“Gross.” you grimaced.

“If you wanna take the blame for the delay.” Sam hummed, raising his arms in surrender.

“I’ll handle that.” Dean scrunched his nose, “Then it’s settled, we’re going for drinks tonight.” Dean proclaimed with a cheeky grin.

“What? What about your laundry?” Sam narrowed his eyes at Dean.

“What ‘what?’?! Can’t do much while it's in the washer, now can I? Might as well grab a drink then.” Dean smirked smugly. “And I know exactly where we’ll go!” Dean waved a piece of paper around. You swiftly grabbed it from his hand. Sam peeked over your shoulder to get a glance as you read over the flyer.

“ ’Come dressed up - get a free shot’ …?” Sam read out, raising his brow sceptically “Really, Dean?”

“Admit it, you just want to dress up.” you hummed as your eyes drifted from the flyer to Dean. You almost snorted when you saw his eyes sparkle gleefully. He definitely already knew what he’d wear.

“Nonsense.” he protested nonetheless, “I just think a free shot would be neat.”

“Sure, Dean…” Sam shot him an incredulous glance and shook his head.

As you and Dean walked back to your room you could tell that he wanted you to guess what he'd wear. He stared at you expectantly, not watching where he was going.

“Let me guess…” you hummed amused, trying to hold back a laugh. “Cowboy?”

“Cowboy.” he grins giddily, nodding enthusiastically. “What’s your pick?”

“I dunno… I’m not that big on costumes.” you shrugged.

“You can’t tell me you don’t have any costumes.” Dean gasped almost offended, closing the bedroom door behind him.

“Welp… I don’t.” you shrugged, "Unless you count our disguises as a costume."

“And you’re supposed to be my girlfriend…” he tsked and shook his head in feigned disappointment. Suddenly a mischievous grin tugged on the corners of his lips. “I got an idea for the perfect costume though… and we could probably modify some of your clothes for it…”

„If you say sexy nurse, I’ll hit you,” you warn him, shooting him an unamused glare.

“Ok, no sexy nurse then…” he raises his palms in defeat, “But… I’m sure it would suit you perfectly.”

"Of course, you’d think that…“ you shake your head, rolling your eyes at him.

"I‘m being truthful.” he grins, pulling you closer by your waist. “You‘d look irresistible… but then again you look irresistible in everything." Dean purred into your ear.

"Nice try Romeo.“ you push him away gently but firmly, “I will wear something a little less cliché.”

"Was worth the try…" he shrugged, pecking your lips before letting you go to get ready.

The night at the bar was just what you needed. Dean, Sam and you drank together, bellowing to the music in the bar and indulging in old memories.

Around 3 am Dean and you came back completely hammered. Sam had opted to go home with a girl in a devil costume.

As Dean and you barged into the bunker, you were leaning on each other heavily as you giggled together. You barely made it to your bed when you fell onto the mattress. Dean immediately hugged you close to him, nuzzling into your neck as he took a deep breath. He lazily pressed a few kisses along your neck, making you squirm against him, but his lips stopped just as quickly as they had started. Soft snores resounded from him, his warm breath hitting your skin. But you couldn’t bother, you were already drifting off as well when Miracle suddenly started to growl lowly.

“Mira’ shut up.” you slurred annoyed, but Miracle wouldn’t stop. “Miracle!” you groaned, searching for a pillow around you and throwing it into the darkness.

You heard a dull sound and Miracle fell silent. You could hear him sniff around but soon darkness encased you fully as your drunken mind fell asleep.

"Y/N?" Dean called through the bunker hoarsely when he had finally fallen out of bed.

"I'm in the library," you replied, cradling your pounding head between your hands as you sat at the table. Even the smell of your coffee in front of you made you slightly nauseous. You regretted the last three shots from last night.

There was a moment of silence in which you could hear him waddle towards the library.

"Did you put that creepy doll in the kitchen?! You scared the shit out of me!" Dean’s face was still pale as he entered the library in his bathrobe. You weren’t sure if it was from the hangover or the shock. “Was that your revenge for yesterday? I swear I didn’t put it in your bag!

"I didn't.“ you mumbled slurred, not even bothering to look at Dean as your eyes were closed, „I wouldn’t have touched that thing for a lame revenge like that. Probably was Sam.” you shrugged, “He came back like an hour ago… probably wanted to pay you back.”

"Sammy!" Dean bellowed, already taking off to Sam’s room. You winced at his loud voice and groaned when you heard the brothers start to bicker.

After an agonizing hangover that lasted till late in the evening, you finally felt good enough to help Dean pack for the next morning when he'd leave with Sam. You felt extra clingy tonight even though you knew that they would probably be back in two or three days.

But as the tradition dictated, Dean and you cuddled in bed together before going to sleep.

"When do you have to leave again tomorrow?" you murmured against Dean’s skin as you lay on his chest, listening to his heartbeat.

"We gonna leave at… like 7.30-ish?" Dean hummed, his hand lazily running up and down your spine.

“That early?” you whined to which Dean chuckled. He softly kissed your forehead, wrapping his arms tighter around you and holding you close.

“The earlier we leave, the earlier we get back,” he mumbled against your neck.

“And how long will you be gone?” you huffed against him.

“A day, maybe two?” Dean hummed, “So you only have a single night without your handsome and wonderful man.” he grinned against your skin, making you chuckle.

“Now that I’m thinking about it, I can probably survive a night without you.” you retorted in feigned annoyance.

“Oh really?” he smirked, starting to tickle your sides.

“Hey! No! Stop!” you started to squirm against him, trying to wriggle away from his attack. Dean grinned triumphantly as he continued to tickle you for a moment before stopping.

“Still think you gonna be fine without me?” he looked at you challengingly.

“More than ever.” you grinned cheekily, biting your lip.

“Don’t be mean now…” Dean murmured, leaning down to capture your lips in a tender kiss.

“Mhm… ok… maybe that’s something I’m gonna miss…” you smiled against his lips.

“Is that so?” Dean smirked smugly, giving you a passionate kiss, “I can remind you of a few more things you gonna miss.” he grinned, swiftly flipping you to lay on the mattress. You yelped in surprise as he towered over you, trailing hungry kisses down your skin, making you gasp in delight.

You groaned softly when you woke up in the middle of the night without seemingly any reason. At first, you thought it was thanks to Dean’s snoring. As you glanced at your alarm clock it was shortly after 3am… again.

It seemed to become a daily occurrence for you to wake up around that time, you just couldn’t understand why. Your thoughts were interrupted when you heard a soft shuffling around your bed. You tensed for a moment, glancing around the room. Your eyes landed on the slightly ajar door that you were sure had been closed when Dean and you went to bed.

You rolled your eyes amused at yourself for being scared for a moment when Miracle had probably just pushed open the door to get to his sleeping spot at the foot of your bed.

You nuzzled back into your pillow, closing your eyes to go back to sleep when there suddenly resounded what could only be described as a giggle. Your eyes widened immediately, and your hands tightened on your blanket.

You swallowed hard as you listened into the darkness.

"Dean!" you whispered. No response. You began to shake him slightly, "Dean, wake up!" you whisper-yelled panicked.

"Hmm… what's wrong." Dean groaned sleepily as he began to stir awake.

"Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

"That giggle!" the fear in your voice was apparent.

"Giggle? Go back to sleep Y/N, your imagination is playing tricks on you."

The floorboards softly creaked making you jump.

"Did you hear that!" you almost shouted.

"Yes, I did. It's just the wood settling, telling you to get some sleep. Nothing more." Dean mumbled, pulling you closer to him before he fell right back to sleep. You rolled your eyes at him.

"Thanks, douchebag…" you muttered, pulling your covers up to your nose and staying alert.

Every creak and crack made you scoot even closer to Dean until you were pressed against him completely. You battled with falling asleep as exhaustion seeped into your bones but once the clock struck 6am the bunker fell silent apart from Dean’s snores. Your eyelids became just too heavy to keep open and soon you were fast asleep.

"Outch!" you cried out, clutching your hip. You were still half asleep when you pottered around in the kitchen. When you had turned around your hip crashed into the open standing cutlery drawer, "For god’s sake Dean! How often do I have to tell you to close these damn drawers!" you hissed in pain at Dean who sat on the table, nursing his coffee. He looked up, startled for a moment.

"I wasn't even near that drawer," he replied groggily, his hand rubbing over his cheek.

"Sure." you grumbled, “That seems to be your standard excuse.”

"No, for real! I only got my coffee. Don’t need cutlery for that." he defended himself and held up his cup. You narrowed your eyes at him.

"Don't give me that look Y/N!" Dean warned you jokingly, "I swear, I'm telling the truth. Maybe you opened it in your delirium and forgot about it."

"Maybe." you grumbled as you took a spoon out of the drawer and closed it, "But you can't blame me. I slept awful."

"Why? Didn’t I tire you out enough?” Dean smirked into his mug, “You seemed really exhausted when we fell asleep…”

“Sometimes I wanna smack your pretty face…” you sighed, shooting Dean an unamused glare, "I woke up in the middle of the night because I thought that I had heard somebody or something shuffling through the house. There was creaking and giggling the whole night."

"Giggling?" Dean drawled amused, raising a brow at you.

" I know it sounds weird but I know what I’ve heard.”

“Maybe it was just the whistling of the wind or something like that." Dean shrugged dismissively, “Maybe Miracle whined in his sleep."

"Cause I can’t tell the difference between a dog whine and a giggling sound?" you scoffed, “Miracle wasn’t even in our room last night cause of certain activities…”

“Maybe you were making up things in your post-blissful haze.” Dean grinned cheekily, immediately receiving a hit against his shoulder, “Ow!” he chuckled, “Why are you being so mean to me lately?”

“I’m not mean! You’re just a dick at the moment.”

“Am not!” Dean protested amused, rubbing his arm, “You’ve been on my case ever since we returned from our hunt.”

“Because you started the war with the doll!”

“I didn’t do that!” Dean laughed, “But maybe that’s why you’re so jumpy. Your subconsciousness still tries to get over that little scare.”

"I’m a hunter, Dean. Spooky shit is my daily bread, so I doubt that a little doll could scare me into hallucinating sounds at night.” you scoffed, “And it's not like I was dreaming. I was wide awake!"

"So, you wanna tell me some creature scampered through the bunker last night?” Dean looked at you sceptically, “I would’ve heard it as well. I mean, I was right next to you… Wait a minute… is that why you tried to wake me up last night? It feels like we talked about this already."

"Yeah… and you jackass fell right back asleep.” you huffed, “You wouldn’t have heard a fire alarm over your snoring!”

“I don’t snore!” Dean scoffed offended.

“Oh trust me, you do.” you huffed dramatically, “And yes, I know, there wasn't anybody scampering around… I just. I don't know, ok? Something just felt… off."

"It was probably the wood settling over the night. The nights are getting colder now, the wood draws together.” Dean reasoned, gently rubbing your arm up and down in a soothing motion.

"Presumably…" you mumbled unconvinced.

"And the most plausible," Dean added with a shit-eating grin.

"Bite me!" you quipped, glaring at him as you shrugged off his hand.

"You know, only in our bedroom!" he called after you with a cheeky grin as you walked out of the kitchen, flipping him off.

When the boys left the bunker to drive down to Bobby, you left with them through the garage, saying your goodbye to them before heading in the other direction towards the town to get some groceries so you wouldn’t have to get takeout yet again. Sam, Dean, and you had been almost exclusively on the road for the last couple of months, so the pantry looked quite meagre while other chores had piled up around the bunker. You would have to get to them as soon as you came back from grocery shopping and running a few errands as well.

Around noon you finally found yourself back at the bunker, the trunk of your car filled with multiple bags and the dry cleaning you had picked up on your way. Dean and Sam had the bad habit of wearing their suits until they started to reek and would bring almost every suit they owned to the dry cleaning at once. Usually, you refused to bring or pick up the clothes since it was hard to carry the 10+ suits back and forth but you actually had to pick up a coat of your own, so you tried to be a doting girlfriend and friend for once and picked all of the clothes up.

Just as you killed the engine and tried to figure out how you could carry everything inside without having to take too many trips, your phone began to ring.

"Perfect timing, Mister Winchester." you chuckled as you accepted the call.

"Just came home?" his raspy voice resounded from the speakers. He sounded tired.

"Yup, had a busy day already. How’s the trip going? Taking a break?”

"Sammy had to stretch out his freakishly long legs.” Dean hummed and you could hear a muffled ‘Hey!’ in the background.

“But traffic’s ok?”

“So far, it’s been a breeze. We almost passed the halfway mark, we should get to Bobby around 6pm if we’re lucky.” Dean hummed.

“Where are you right now?” you asked curiously, getting out of the car to walk around to the back.

“Somewhere in the middle of Missouri… I think.”

“How’s it there? Any better than in Kansas?” you tried to keep Dean talking, already missing his voice. You pinned your phone between your ear and your shoulder as you opened the trunk and got the first few bags out of it, walking towards the bunker's main entrance.

“Slightly better weather-wise but I'd much rather be with you right now," Dean murmured into your ear.

"Aw, you're sweet. I'd love that too… then I wouldn't have to carry in all these suits that I picked up at the dry-cleaner's and all these groceries on my own." Dean only snickered on the other end of the line, “We really have to get them cleaned in more reasonable batches instead of every single suit you guys have been wearing till they smell.”

"So, what do you have planned for tonight?" Dean tried to change the subject.

"Not much," you said while fishing for your keys in your coat pocket while balancing the grocery bags on your leg, "Maybe do some of my laundry.”

Dean could hear you unlock the front door and suddenly you screamed and there was a thud.

"Y/N?" Dean asked concerned, his brows furrowing as he listened attentively for any sounds.

"Dean what the heck! Was that necessary?" you panted into the speaker as you picked up your phone from the ground.

"Was what necessary?" he asked confused.

"Don't act so innocent. You have to stop with those pranks!" you laughed, your heart still racing, "You scared the shit out of me. Again. Congratulations!"

"…and with what exactly?" Dean chuckled bemused.

"The doll you sat directly behind the door?"

"Ahh… erm… yeah. Got you!" he forced a laugh. Hadn’t he thrown that weird thing out before they went to the bar 2 days ago? Maybe Miracle had found it in the trash outside and dragged it back inside.

"Ok?" you raised an eyebrow and kicked the doll out of your way, "Moving on. Please remember to tell Cas that he has to come by the next couple of days for the translation of the Enochian we found." you carried the bags towards the kitchen.

“Why me?” Dean grumbled.

“Cause Cas only answers your calls…” you hummed amused. Dean sighed exasperated.

"Yes, sweetheart, I will." he groaned.

The rest of the day you busied yourself with the chores. You started a load of your and Dean’s sheets while tidying your shared room, vacuuming, and dusting off every surface. Afterwards, you busied yourself with restocking the pantry and cleaning out the fridge from unidentifiable containers of what arguably had been food at some point in time.

After cooking yourself a late dinner you let yourself fall into a recliner in the Dean cave. Miracle joined you, getting a few bites of your pasta dish as the two of you watched a movie. In the middle of the movie, your phone vibrated, notifying you of a goodnight text from Dean and the info that he and Sam were on their way back to the bunker and should be back around noon. You quickly send back your reply before stashing the phone into the side of the recliner and turning your attention back to the movie.

You didn’t even realise how tired you were until you woke up in the middle of the night to a completely dark room. The TV must’ve shut off a while ago and Miracle was nowhere to be seen.

You sighed as you tried to wake up enough to get up and wander back to your room. That’s when you realised that you had forgotten to put the sheets back onto the bed after you had washed them and put them into the dryer. You groaned and shuffled in the opposite direction to the laundry room. You didn’t bother turning on the lights, hoping you would be able to fall asleep quicker if you didn’t get blinded by the harsh lights of the bunker.

As you gathered all the sheets out of the dryer you hummed in delight as the scent of freshly washed laundry filled your nose. You couldn’t wait to fall asleep while being encased in this heavenly smell. Your thoughts were rudely interrupted when Mircale suddenly started to bark out of nowhere.

“What is it, Miracle?” you called out annoyed. Maybe he was scolding you for not being in your room when he wanted to sleep, “I’ll be there in a sec…”

You were a little confused when his barking turned into growls and snarls.

“Miracle, what’s your deal?” you groaned.

Your heart stopped beating for a moment, your eyes widening as you froze in the doorway. You swallowed hard and tried to pull yourself together. This probably was just a nightmare. Or as Dean would tell you right now, just the wood settling. Very amused Wood being in a giggly mood…

You felt a chill run down your spine when you heard it again.

The giggling.

“H-hello?” you asked into the darkness, thinking that maybe Dean had already talked to Cas who had come by.

But you never got a response. And usually, Miracle wouldn’t snarl at Cas either, nor would Cas sound like a giggling toddler. So, this was more than odd.

Your stomach felt queasy as you crept up towards your room cautiously. Your heart was dancing tango in your chest. Suddenly you heard pitter-patter grow louder behind you and without another thought you booked it to your room, not even looking back. As soon as you reached your room, Miracle scurried in after you and you slammed the bedroom door close.

You panted as adrenaline shot through and your brain was slowly processing what just had happened. You began chuckling and shook your head amused.

“Miracle, you scared me.” you chuckled slightly relieved and a bit amused that you got scared that easily when a sudden slam against the door made your heart sink again.

You quickly locked the door, backing away immediately and stumbling backwards a few steps until the back of your knees hit the mattress. You threw the washed sheets onto the bed, your eyes never leaving the door as you searched for Dean’s emergency blade under the bed. Once you had the knife secured in your hand you searched for your phone in desperation. It slowly dawned on you that you had forgotten your phone on the recliner, so you had no chance of calling the boys for support. But then again, they probably couldn’t help you in your situation right now anyway since they were still thousands of miles away from the bunker. All you could do was wait it out until they came back and stand on guard.

At some point during the night, you gathered the courage to slide a chair under the handle of the door before you sat down on your bed again. You didn’t hear anything anymore outside of the door, but you didn’t trust the silence one bit. You invited Miracle into the bed for emotional support. Dean would kill you if he found out that you had let the dog sleep in bed with you, but you didn’t really care right now.

Harsh pounding against the door jerked you awake. You had no idea how late it was or when you had fallen asleep. You almost fell to the ground when you scrambled out of bed.

“Darling? Y/N?! Are you in there?” Dean’s worried voice resounded from the other side of the door, the handle turning frantically as he continued to knock against the door.

You quickly scurried to the door and pulled the chair away before you opened the door, trying to act as nonchalant as possible.

“You’re back.” you tried to sound enthusiastic, but the grogginess was quite apparent on your face.

“Are you alright, Y/N?” Dean asked worried, grabbing your shoulders as he inspected you, “What happened? Why did you lock yourself in our room? You look pale.”

“N-nothing.” you stammered sheepishly. You didn’t want to tell Dean what had happened. He probably wouldn’t believe you and tell you that you had probably just imagined it again. Or he’d turn it around and tease you about ‘how much you had missed him’ and that ‘your strong, handsome man was back to protect you from bad dreams again’. And you really didn’t need that right now, especially with the lack of proper sleep.

“Look who we brought,” Sam announced suddenly, making you sigh relieved as the conversation was stirred away from you when Sam stepped aside to reveal Cas tagging along behind him.

“You look awful.” Cas greeted you in his monotone voice.

“Hi, Cas… nice to see you, too.”

Taglist: @hellowgoodbye @fuckyoutommie @loz-3 @whorefordean @kayful00595 @drasticemotions @deans-spinster-witch @tweakingin2 @winharry @jackles010378 @marvelfanfn2187a113

Divider by @talesmaniac89

#dean winchester #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester fic #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x y/n #jensen ackles #supernatural #supernatural fic #supernatural fanfiction

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luci-is-a-bitch-x3x · 11 months ago

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Obey me! Brothers with an Innocent Mc:

━☆*:･ﾟ✧✧ ♡ ❀ ♡ ✧━

Welcome! to this adventure! The characters may not be how you imagine! I apologize for any poor jokes, bad spelling, and terrible grammar. This is kinda like the demon behaviors but like different I think idk tbh. Without further ado, please enjoy the content. ♡

Caution: May contain dark themes or imply towards dark themes. May contain nsfw or it may imply towards nsfw themes.

━☆*:･ﾟ✧✧ ♡ ❀ ♡ ✧━━☆*:･ﾟ✧✧ ♡ ❀ ♡ ✧━

Innocent Mc who jumps up and down when their excited. They only do it because they have so much energy and excitement! Living with demons however makes it not as innocent. Everyone of the brothers caught on to Mc's habit very quickly. They'll play it off as liking to see Mc happy and excited, but in reality they love the way Mc's body moves while they jump around excitedly. The jiggle their body makes when they land a jump. The way Mc's shirt rises a little when they jump into the air. The brothers are usually never focused on Mc's excitement, usually their eyes are trained on Mc's body. Making sure they get to watch every jiggle and get to see every inch of Mc's skin they can. Mc's none the wiser, thinking the brothers are just being nice, caring about Mc and their happiness.

Innocent Mc who shakes their body out of happiness when they eat something they like or eat after being hungry for to long. They cant help it! The foods just so good they have to move their body! The brothers never seem to mind, instead the Brothers always seem to be the ones giving Mc their favorite foods. "You just look so happy when you eat it Mc" its definitely not because they like the way Mc's ass shakes when they do their little happy dance. No that'd be wrong of them, and they are perfectly behaved demons, as far as Mc knows.

Innocent Mc who just loves swimming, the brothers must love swimming too with how often they take Mc swimming! Mc genuinely believes the brothers press against Mc when their in the water, so that Mc doesn't drown. The brother is just holding Mc up, keeping Mc safe is all! Mc who believes the brothers everytime one of them touches their body, naively believing the brother is fixing their swimming garments. The brothers are never actually fixing Mc's swim wear, really they just want to feel the humans bare skin, Mc being wet from their recent swim only adds to the brothers desires to touch the oblivious human.

Innocent Mc who knows that in the human world different places have many different customs, so the Brothers cant be lying when they tell Mc about odd customs the Devildom has. Mc has to do the odd customs, they are a guest on the Devildom after all! It starts with "customs" that the brothers might be able to pull off with enough brainstorming and gaslighting. They never had to brainstorm a plan or gaslight as Mc was none the wiser from the begging. The first few customs were things such as: Mc has to tell them where they are at all times, Mc most likely isn't even allowed out without a brother beside them. Mc has to tell the brothers who they talk to. The brothers get to control whos around Mc, its for Mc's safety. It's mostly because the Brothers don't want to share Mc, nobody else needs to be around Mc and taking up Mc's time. The first few "customs" are there for "Mc's saftey" but in reality it closes Mc in. The only thing Mc has, knows, and is around is the brothers and who the brothers allow Mc to be around. The customs just get weirder and weirder from then on, as soon as the brothers realized Mc was to naive to see what they were doing they took full advantage of it. "Oh Mc, its a custom for a guest to sit on the home owners lap" they'll say its because Mc stays in HoL for free and the brothers keep them safe! Its like the brothers payment. The brothers all work together to make Mc do some odd "customs" as well. Like they would be convincing Mc that on a certain day every week sometime in the weekend probs its a custom for everyone to strip down to their undergarments, for a "relaxation day" or some excuse like that. All the brothers participate, they just want to see Mc in their undergarments too much to not participate in the lie.

Each brother may have their own lies they convince Mc are customs. Belphie may tell Mc that in the Devildom it's a custom to sleep naked, yes even if you're taking a nap with someone Mc! Belphie loves being snuggled up to Mc when neither of them have clothes on, and Mc didn't even take that much convincing to belive his little lie! Asmo convinces Mc that bathing together is a custom in the Devildom. I can see all the brothers saying this but Asmo is def the worst about it. Asmo tells Mc bathing together and washing eachother is great bonding, and that lots of demons do it! Asmo may get a little feely when he washes Mc, he'll tell them that washing this way is how all demons wash themselves, he'll even get them to wash him similarly. Satan convinces Mc that the pet bed he has beside his bed or his favorite reading spot is normal, and that Mc has to sit there because its safer for them. Its a custom for some Devildom furniture to be made unsafe for human use. The pet bed is the only human safe furniature Satan could find that looked comfy! Lucifer convinces Mc that refering to him as things like: sir, master, or daddy, is normal because he's the oldest in the household. In the Devildom its like a form of respect, his brother don't do it because they aren't guests in the house Mc. He'll even add the whole family gets to respect him differently then others, he just loves hearing those words come out of Mc's mouth. Beel convinces Mc that its normal for someone to lick food off of someone else. In the Devildom things are different, demons are close like that, its not weird that Beel licked that whipped cream of you're chest Mc, demons sometimes purposely put food on each other to lick it off for bonding! Some excuse like that, allows Beel to constantly put some type of food on Mc's body so that he can lick it off right after. Levi somehow convinces Mc that its a custom for people to touch each other the way he touches them. Its a game Mc! Its like the Devildom's version of play fighting! ..just with a lot more groping and grinding, you're bodies absolutely must be touching in this game! As close as possible! The moment Levi's letting out weird sounds, is getting all flustered, and his body jolts and jitters, well thats when Mc wins of course! Mc always seems to win at this game, and Mc never seems to notice Levi's pants are always stained after playing. Mammon convinces Mc that its normal for their "first" man to do things that the others aren't allowed to do. This includes all kinds of different things but some of the main ones are that Mammons allowed to be with Mc anywhere, anytime, no matter what. Mc's changing? Mammons there convincing Mc its normal to watch. Mc's in the bathroom? Mammons in the bathroom too, he'll at least be nice enough to not watch during these times, but hes still in the bathroom, just facing towards the door while Mc does their business. Mc's sleeping? Mammon can sit at the end of Mc's bed watching them sleep until hes tired! There is no privacy when it comes to Mammon, hes Mc's first! Mc doesnt need privacy from him! Hes here to protect and experience all Mc's firsts with them! He cant give his brothers a chance to have a moment with Mc thats hes never had.

━☆*:･ﾟ✧✧ ♡ ❀ ♡ ✧━━☆*:･ﾟ✧✧ ♡ ❀ ♡ ✧━

Thats all for now babes! Hope you enjoyed!! ♡ This is not proofread. Feel free to comment or reblog any thoughts or any add ons you have! This has been in my drafts forever so hopefully its good man. Let me know if I should try and do more parts or this or not. Anyways more content will be coming soon so Stay Tuned! Stay Safe! & Stay Groovy Scooby!

━☆*:･ﾟ✧✧ ♡ ❀ ♡ ✧━

⟡˙⋆Masterlist⋆˙⟡

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secret-smut-sideblog · 4 months ago

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Prayer Factory

Gale x F! Tav (named)

18+ religous trauma, confrontation, disassociation, implied violation, trauma responses, panic, dry heaving, roughness, dom/sub, total control, light humiliation, semi public sex, choking, handjob, face sitting, oral (f!), masturbation (m!)

Aurum steels herself to face her old demons at the temple, with her love at her side. But the adrenaline of confrontation leaves her coiled, and a wizard very eager to take her wrath...

Masterlist

"You can do this."

Aurum stared up at the temple, its faceted golden light cascading her in angelic reprieve.

"You know, I wish it was ugly." She squeezed his fingers tightly. "Bloody and decrepit. Somewhere this painful shouldn't look like this."

He agreed, of all of their confronting of demons, this was far too beautiful. Somehow, more sinister in its resplendence.

"I'm right here with you, and I will burn this place down at your command. They've rebuilt once before, they can do it again."

She smiled at him, pulling his nape to bring him into a dizzying kiss. The soft sounds of happy parishioners and the hush of swaying flowers an idyllic backdrop.

Her voice started to slide together. It was always melodic, but now folded into a half song.

"When we get inside..." She hushed against his lips. "Don't leave my side."

"Of course, I'm wi-"

"Gale." Her tone pausing him. "Listen to me. Stay with me."

"I won't leave you." He promised, already tightening his body for a fight.

Aurum took one deep inhale, then, before she could release it, pulled them inside. Spires of the Morning swallowing them entirely.

He thought she would pull up her hood and conceal herself in her instinctual protection. But she threw her cloak down, striding up to the altar in her flowing robe. Baring herself.

The clergy turned and ran to her in shock. Voices raised in alarm, calling for regalia and covers and holy items. Descending on her as devout wolves.

Aurum stood stock still, simultaneously tight and limp to their pulling. Face composed in grace, but eyes glazed over. No longer in her body.

Watching them touch her made his stomach turn. Each piece of regalia they so lovingly slipped onto her felt like they were stripping her naked in front of him. Ripping away pieces of her autonomy one garment at a time.

He wanted to make them stop, but there were too many to pull off of her. Fingers already entangled into her hair, pulling it out of its clip to braid down her back. Bands of fabric tied around her shoulders and across her waist. Headdress affixed to her brow, a molded blindfold taking her eyes away. Every piece tailored to fit her body. To bind her to them.

He felt waves of nausea as she disappeared from him in real time. A priest tried to shoo him away, so blinded by fervor that he couldn't even recognize that they came in together. Or maybe it didn't matter. She was their holy idol, finally returned. Her outside ties were irrelevant.

"I'm her entrusted, her priest. I must stay with her." He urged.

"Oh! Thank you for returning her to us, brother."

"We cannot stay. Her light is drawn elsewhere."

The priest peered at him, confused. A small clench in his jaw.

"But she must stay. You understand, we have been without her guidance for too long. She is a direct conduit."

He truly felt like he was going to harm this man, a rage that rose like a fever up his spine. Speaking through slow and even breaths.

"It is not in our dieties nature to keep light contained. Come now, she has graced your temple again, rejoice in that. Her light must be spread beyond these walls."

The man seemed uncertain, about to retort, when Gale drew forward. Disregarding him to take her hands.

"Such resplendent light must be shone."

Many of the clergy nodded, faces slack in their blind devotion. The priest fell away, his protest lost.

It made him recoil to see their faces. He had never been on the other side. To see the way they looked at her... is this how he looked at his god? At her, on that beach so long ago?

He understood now why she had kept him at a distance for so long.

He twisted his fingers into hers.

I'm sorry.

Her fingers trembled but did not respond. Their shake the only tell in her mask of grace. The slightest flinch as one of the devout pulled away her chest binding. Her light spilling out.

They all gathered around, chattering prayers and joyful exclamation. Pushing their palms onto her chest, clammy and grotesque in their excitement.

He realized what she meant now, when she had urged him at the door.

"Don't leave my side. Stay with me."

Don't let them take me.

He stepped between the hands, presenting his body as a shield. His chest pressed to hers. Feeling the heat of her sunlight. Her eyes blinded to him, but feeling her gaze regardless.

"What is the meaning of this gathering?"

A tall man stepped down from a staircase above them. Staring down with clear authority.

"High Mornmaster! She's returned!" A priest called out. Presenting her as one does a prized relic.

"And you thought it best to adorn her out here in the open?"

"Oh! I..."

"She was bare when she arrived! We had to dress her!"

"Silence, brother."

The priests hung their heads obediently.

"Are you her charge, stranger?" He turned to Gale, eyeing him down his nose.

"I am. She is in my care, body and soul."

"A most holy duty. I commend thee."

It made bile rise to his throat to realize how they spoke around her.

"She has done well to stay her silence. We shall speak at a more private altar. Come."

Gale pantomimed leading her, but it was her step that drew them forward. How long had she spent blinded to know this place in the dark?

He spoke low in her ear as they walked, following the shadow of the high priest.

"You're doing so well. I love you, I'm right here with you. We're going to go home soon, okay?"

She nodded, taking a shuddering breath. The grip on his fingers loosened slightly. Taking up his own squeeze.

It frightened him that she hadn't spoken, but he knew how confronting places like this could unravel. All of the progress you've made pulled out of you in wrenching handfuls. A cruel magic trick.

But he would not allow them the chance to take advantage of her temporarily shattered sense of self. She was not alone. And they would die by his hand before they could take her.

"What fortuitous luck we have been graced with. Our divine light returned to us." The High Morninglord swept behind his desk, sitting back to level his gaze appreciatively at her.

"Though, I have heard whispers of a girl with a holy light in her chest, running the Cliff's Run, of all things." He laughed as if this was the most absurd notion. "The thought, our Resplendent running naked in the streets."

Gale's stomach clenched in disgust. Recognizing the tactics. Setting up a shameful question to put your obstinate charge on the back foot. To make them trip over themselves to prove you wrong.

But she didn't take the bait. Sitting straight, her hands folded gently in her lap. Her face impassive under the half mask.

"It has been far too long since your voice has hallowed these halls. Shall we have your confession, Risen Sun."

It wasn't a question.

A low laugh slipped her at his audacity. Calling her by her true title.

"Confession..." Aurum let out a slow breath, though she made no move to bend her head in prayer. "Maybe it will help."

"Yes, confession is a balm on the soul."

"Should I address Lathander or our Father?"

He paused, clearly taken aback by her brevity. Addressing the cult outright. Gathering his nerve again.

"Whoever speaks to you."

She smiled with a sharp edge.

"Then I'll speak to you."

"I remember what faith felt like. Filling a hollow in me. Ecstatic. Bright. Lifting me above my body. Gods, it makes me shiver to even think of it now."

Her voice was a soft coo of a dove. All the fullness, the lived in, pulled away. Reminding him of how she spoke so long ago. How one speaks to a lamb led to the knife.

"It fulfilled me, and why wouldn't it? It was my purpose. My whole existence had been planned with the sole purpose of channeling the divine. Or, at least, that's what I was told. 'You've been touched by the Gods.' My father would whisper. Leading me in my first steps to the altar. It was all deliberate, my breeding, my upbringing. My young mother dying during childbirth a blip on my history. An obituary not even written. Just a name and a date."

"But I think my genuine channeling was a convenience for my father, at least at first. It's easier to convince the blind masses when your child truly did speak through your god. But there lies the problem."

She leaned forward, boring her concealed gaze into him. Her voice carried on in its haunting song.

"His god spoke to me. Through me. He had thought he had channeled Him, but seeing how He flowed from me like water. I was His true voice. That filled his belly with rot. Envy. And a madman with a pit of rot in his belly... well. You surely remember what happened next?"

The priest's breath held, fear darting his eyes from her.

"Oh, come now. You weren't scared when you held me down. Don't lose your nerve now."

"No, you remember quite well. A little girl named Rosa'sune, with soft adolescent love for another girl and blind faith in her heart, was destroyed on that slab that night. And no amount of her screaming loosened your grip. It was a call from your god, and you sang to it joyously."

"That wasn't what broke my faith. Not the pain, not the shard of sun, not the carving of the tattoo across my face. I had endured wrath before. No, it was that you did it to her too."

"See, I could have believed it was a show of my worth, to be Chosen. Of course, a blessing this great must take a great deal to endure. But Amaris was not part of our sect. She didn't even worship the same god. Yet you carved her, just the same as me. You marked her identical. Now, why would that be?"

"I can hear from the shake of your breath that you have enough sense to be afraid of me. Good. You should be. My father was too, but not until it was far too late. He filled me with such terrible power. And, like all unfit parents, had never fathomed that I could defy him. That I was more than an extension of his will. In forcing that light in me had made his most fatal mistake."

She rose to lean on the desk, palms flat against the wood. Still speaking a soft lullaby.

"He had made me a weapon. His daughter, singing hymns and touching bowed heads with eyes blinded, was now a scythe shaped like a girl. In his hubris, he had made me far more powerful than him, and it was too late to turn back. So he made a failsafe. If I refused him or his god, I would burn."

"Aurum... I had no-"

"Silence. I am not here to soothe your bleating."

She reached forward and tenderly cupped his face.

"Do you remember? How our clergy sung my new holiness? Oh, how beautiful, how lucky, to be Chosen. How wonderful to have a true conduit. Without a single thought of the weight of a sun in her chest. No thought to how strange that her voice was returned to her, yet her breath came so shallow."

She reached up and pulled the blindfold away. Staring deep in his eyes.

"It was my father's will, but your faithful did this to me. I could not hide from His light, and you do not get to hide from what you've done."

Fear shaken tears edged out of his eyes, staring up at her. Mouth fallen open in silent pleading.

She brushed a tear away with her thumb, then reached inside her mouth. Wetting her opposite thumb, she circled a sun into the crest of his forehead. The trail lighting. Holy water.

"I shall let all who dwell in dark feel your holy dawn."

The priest responded almost involuntarily.

"Morninglord, hear my prayer."

She smiled a sad, knowing smile, then pulled away.

"Let's go. We're done here."

Gale rose and took her hand, though she needed no guidance. Leading him out.

As they walked, her pace picked up. Grace falling away as distance covered. Breaking into a frantic stride. Pulling away the regalia that weighed down her body.

They burst out of a hidden side door, a small alley tucked away by the sea. Aurum leaned against the brick, dry heaving.

Gale rushed forward, about to cradle her. But she shoved him away. Surprise taking up both of their faces.

He staggered back, but didn't retreat. Seeing something in her eyes.

She rose up to her full height and shoved him again. His back pushed into brick.

His breath left in a huff, a new kind of lust risen in his belly. Seeing it mirrored in her eyes. She always had a dominant streak, but this felt different. Less teasing, no toying or riling in her stare.

Her hand came to his throat, pressing her body into his. Staring deep in his eyes. Her fingers tightened. Studying him like a tiger hidden in thicket.

The thought of being her prey made his cock throb, breathing hard through her fingers.

She reached inside his robe and cupped him. Eliciting a gasp. Holding him by the throat and by the cock. His life and his manhood in the palm of her hands. Already leaking precum over her fingers. His body begging.

She gathered the slick and tightened her grip, wrenching pleasure from him in tight strokes.

He arched into the wall, eyes rising into lids. Hand gripping her forearm.

She knocked his hand back. Exhaling a fast breath, nearly a growl. Caging him back.

He braced his hands against the wall, the cool brick flat against his palms. His hips fucking up into her. The hand on his throat flexing.

This was a tucked away alley, but they were still in the city. Anyone could wander down the street and see them. See him. The thought that she might not stop in that situation made his belly tighten dangerously. Orgasm threatening shockingly soon.

She felt the throb, his cock hard as stone. Only smiling, her mouth hovering just far enough away to deny him of her. Playing with her food, watching him squirm with a tilt of her head.

That she wasn't speaking made it feel so much more salacious. Breathing hard into the space between them. Eyes wide blown with lust. The lewd sound of her hand and heavy breathing the only sounds exchanged.

The end was soon, he was past the point of no return. Hips fucking into her outside of his control. Biting into his lip, whimpers lost under her grip on his throat. Her total control over him making his pleasure feel primal. Shameful out in the open. About to cum, whether he liked it or not.

She turned his head with her thumb, seeing the tells of his body. Pushing a moan of breath against his ear. Licking a flat line up the curve.

He came in shuddering waves, hands digging into the sharp brick. Hips stuttering as the pleasure coiled in his belly struck him over and over. Out on display for the world to see. Splattering the ground.

She pushed him down by the throat. Forcing him to a sitting kneel, staring up at her. She pulled her robe aside and straddled over his upturned face. Long legs caging him. Taking the crown of his hair into her fist. Grinding her cunt into his mouth.

He gripped both hands into her ass and pulled her into him. Slurping her hard clit into his cupped tongue.

She shuddered above him, fully straddling over his face. Bracing her forearm against the brick wall. Hips pulsing into his fervent licking. Sloppy in his enthusiasm, staring up at her through lidded eyes. Fucked out, moaning into her cunt.

Her using him like this hardened his cock again, reaching between his legs to stroke himself in time to the grind of her hips.

"Good boy." She sighed when he sucked her clit into his mouth. Sending his eyes up into his head. About to cum again.

He released his cock to pull her hard into him, burying his face fully between her legs. Digging his fingertips into the fat of her ass. Slurping and sucking with animal fervor.

She buckled above him, curling her head forward. Shuddering out choked cries. Her hips tremoring from deep in her pelvis.

He slapped her ass, bending her hips to fully latch on to her clit. Wrenching his head from side to side, pulling popping sucks with the hollow of his tongue.

She bit into her forearm above him, her eyes squeezing shut tight. Muffling shrieks into her flesh. Hips shuddering so hard he thought they might give out. Bracing his forearms under her thighs, hands holding her ass up.

Her eyes fully rolled up into her head as she came. Falling forward, scraping her knees against the wall. Shuddering in pulses against his mouth. Her cum flooding into his mouth, lapping it eagerly down his throat. Moaning around swallows. His hand returning to his cock to quickly cum the last of his pleasure.

She fell down into his lap, legs straddled around his thighs. Shaking out breath into his shoulder.

He wound tightly around her, hushing into her ear. Stroking the braids out of her hair. Returning her to him, one caress at a time.

She grasped tightly around him.

"I love you." She moaned, throat raw from pleasure and swelling tears. "I want to go home."

He buried into her shoulder, his own tears threatening.

"I love you so much. Let's go home."

#this one is A Lot. so strap in #gale x tav #gale smut #bg3 smut #screenshot by @druizard #lyrics from: place in the sun - chelsea wolfe

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scratchandfriends · 5 days ago

Text

First Times (+18)

Pairing: Wyll Ravengard x Female Tav

WC: 2600

Summary: You and Wyll haven't *consummated* your budding romance. Literally no one cares... except Astarion. Okay maybe you two also care, but is it even a big deal?

Content Warnings: LOSS OF VIRGINITY! Virgin Wyll, unprotected sex, creampies, girl on top, kissing, jealous astarion tbh.

— —

“More wine? You seem tense.” Astarion all but purrs at you while holding out the bottle of red wine, tipping its neck in your direction.

You had to admit, you were feeling a bit tired and out of sorts, but how could you not in these particular circumstances? You shrug and allow your vampire companion to fill your cup to the brim with deep, burgundy liquid.

“I can hardly say I’m relaxed, but considering the uninvited guests in our skulls and the cult of lunatics trying to murder us, I’m doing fine, Astarion.” You try to wave his comment off and move on to other matters.

“Are you quite sure? You seem a bit, frustrated as of late.” Astarion pries further, taking a sip from his own cup of wine.

“Perhaps I’m frustrated because a certain snarky, pointy-eared charlatan keeps asking to bite me in the middle of the night when I’m trying to get my beauty rest.” You quip back with a cheeky smirk, emphasizing the word bite.

“Oh but from what I can tell you’re getting plenty of beauty rest, darling. And besides, it’s been few and far between the nights I can catch you alone in your own bedroll for a little sip.” Astarion shifts a bit closer to you seated next to him at the campfire.

He was right. You had been spending most nights in Wyll’s tent lately, sharing conversation and shy kisses well into the wee hours of the morning. Ever since your kiss on the beach after saving the Emerald Grove, the two of you had been exploring your budding romantic relationship a day at a time. It was clear to you from his awkwardness and visible uncertainty that you were the first adult relationship Wyll had engaged in… but you didn’t mind! You found the way he became flustered after each kiss and fleeting touch of your hands against his so very endearing. It also helped that you found him devilishly handsome, no pun intended.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were jealous of where I’ve been spending my evenings.” You take another long drink of wine from your cup…

— —

Today’s battle had left Wyll covered in viscera and grime, so he thought he would rinse off and freshen up in the river before retiring to his tent for the evening. Donning fresh clothing, he shook his head like a dog, river water splattering on the ground around him as he dried his hair.

He couldn’t help but look forward to another night alone with you. Wyll loved your long talks and especially loved holding you close to him… a privilege he felt he didn’t deserve in his current physical form. You always looked at him with adoration in your eyes and for those intimate moments alone he felt almost normal.

Wyll’s heart fluttered at the thought of having you in his bed again, letting you kiss his lips gently between subjects of conversation. He wanted so badly to take your relationship further physically, but his nervousness and anxiety kept him from progressing past kisses and soft touches. He had never laid with a woman before. He wanted nothing more than to provide you with the deepest carnal pleasure that this life allows, but he simply didn’t know the first thing about it.

Shaking the insecurities from his mind, he trudged towards his tent and was about to head inside before he heard your voice coming from the campfire circle. You were talking with someone. He didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but when he heard Astarion’s ill intended giggle in response to whatever you had said, he couldn’t help but listen in…

— —

“Hah hah! Jealous? Me? Tav, you wound me!” Astarion puts his hand to his chest in fake offense. “I’m only offering my concern for your pent up nature as of late.”

“I’m not sure what you’re implying, Astarion.” You say curtly.

“Darling I’m up all hours of the evening, hunting, watching the camp and whatnot. I’ve heard many strange bumps in the night, but absolutely nothing coming from your lawful little warlock’s tent.” Astarion says with a smirk. “I’m not implying anything, I’m saying that I can offer what your lover lacks and give you a well-earned release.”

You roll your eyes.

“I assure you I am quite satisfied and spoken for, thank you very much.” You respond.

“Spoken for, obviously. Satisfied is yet to be seen.” The vampire chides.

“What goes on between my sheets is none of your concern.” You gulp down the rest of your wine. “Keep your fangs out of my love life if you wish to continue to enjoy the privilege of drinking from me.”

You rise to your feet to turn in for the night.

“Have it your way, darling… but if you change your mind, I’ll be waiting.” Astarion adds with a devilish smirk.

You scoff and head to your tent. Once inside, you change your clothes into something more comfortable for sleeping and let your hair fall from its high ponytail to cascade down your back. Feeling a bit warm either from the wine or irritation from Astarion’s invasive comments, you decide you want to cuddle up with your favorite warlock for the evening.

Sneaking out of your tent you softly pad over to Wyll’s tent and rap softly at the entrance before pushing your way inside. You find him on his back on his bedroll, one arm behind his head and another holding a book up in front of his face.

“Hey you.” You say with a smile as you settle yourself onto Wyll’s bedroll next to him, nestling yourself into his side.

“Ah, what a beautiful sight.” He says, setting his book down.

“How are you?” You ask.

“Ah, fine.” He says, unable to meet your eyes for some reason.

You pick up on his unease and inquire further.

“Is something wrong?” You lift yourself onto your elbow so you can get a full view of his face.

“No! No of course not… I’m just… surprised to see you here tonight.” Wyll eventually gets out.

“I’m here nearly every night, Wyll… why wouldn’t I be here?” You furrow your brow.

“I heard some of your chat with Astarion.. I thought you might have taken him up on his offer…” Wyll says with a bit of a bitter bite to his words.

You become angry, sitting up fully now.

“You really think I would trade what we have for a frivolous romp with a vampire?” You spit out. “You would believe I’m that shallow?”

“No! It’s not that at all!” Wyll responds defensively, sitting up next to you. “I just thought you.. well… I’m sure you have needs and I… I-I mean w-we…” Wyll stutters pathetically, trying to pacify you as well as articulate his thoughts. “I-it doesn’t bother you? That w-we… haven’t?”

“GODS no!” You say with wide eyes. “If you think my interest in you is purely physical, you’re deeply mistaken. I want you, in every sense, not just like that.” You bring your hand to affectionately stroke his cheek. His eyes finally meet yours, it was clear he was embarrassed by his outburst of insecurity. “Wyll.. my sweet… I’d never rush into anything like that especially if you’re not ready-“

“And what if I said I am ready?” Wyll asks, much to your surprise.

“I don’t want you to feel like you have to do this just because that idiotic-“

“No, not because of him. I’ve been wanting this for some time… really since the night you kissed me, actually… I-I just… don’t want to disappoint you, make a fool of myself..” He interrupts you again, shaking his head.

You chuckle a bit, thumb caressing his face.

“Lovely boy, you could never disappoint me in that way. Of course I want all of you… but only if that’s truly what you desire.” You say as you lean in to nuzzle your nose against his. You notice Wyll’s cheeks flush deeper red.

Wyll smiles at you and tilts his head to press a passionate kiss on your lips. He starts to deepen the kiss by pressing his hand against the back of your head. You hum in contentment and bring your hand to stroke his chest while letting his mouth move against yours.

This kiss was different from the ones you had previously shared. There was an urgency, a neediness in the way Wyll devoured your lips that you had never experienced with him before. He pushes you down onto your back and hovers over you, giving you a chance to breathe.

“You’re sure?” You ask, wanting to be completely certain that he wasn’t acting on impulse due to the goading of his pallid traveling companion.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything, I promise.” Wyill assures you with a sweet kiss to your forehead before pulling back again. “Shall we continue?” He asks with a bit of a smirk.

“As you were, then!” You giggle and pull his face into your neck.

You feel Wyll hum in playful approval as his lips graze your sensitive skin. His stubble scratches against your flesh and you tremble instinctively. His plush lips begin to suckle passionate kisses into your neck, marking his territory and making you keen in response. You barely notice his left hand sliding your sleeping tunic over your body and stopping just before your breasts.

“M-may I?” Wyll asks, sheepishly.

You nod.

He gingerly lifts your clothing over your head and tosses it to the ground, leaving you in just your panties.

“Gods… you’re beautiful…” Wyll remarks as his eyes rake over your figure beneath him, a distinct sparkle in his good eye.

“You can touch me more, you know… anywhere you want…” You grab one of Wyll’s wrists and bring his hand up to rest on your breast.

Wyll’s eyebrows raise and he tentatively squeezes your supple flesh in his hand. You hum and wrap your arms around his neck. He grows bold enough to start rubbing circles around your nipple and you moan in approval.

“You can kiss them too, you- Oh!” You gasp as Wyll doesn’t even wait for you to finish your sentence before wrapping his lips around your pert nipple and sucking softly. You feel your cunt clench in anticipation, pushing out more slick to dampen the gusset of your cloth underwear… but you wouldn’t rush him. You were hellbent on letting Wyll take all the time he needed to explore your body.. and his own.

You feel him rut his clothed erection against your naked thigh as he suckles on your breast, kneading the other in his calloused hand.

“Ah!” You yelp as you feel sharp teeth bite down onto your erect nipple.

“Ah- sorry- I-“ Wyll pulls back and stutters out an apology.

“No, don’t apologize. I liked it.” You coo at Wyll, playing with the ends of his braids at the back of his neck with your fingers. “Made me so wet for you, love…” You kiss him again and slide off your underwear while distracting him with your lips.

You pull back and grin cheekily. Before Wyll can register your next move, you flip him over onto his back so that your nude form is straddling his hips.

“I think you have entirely too many clothes on.” You say in jest as you slide down his body to start untying his pants.

“Well, we should fix that that.” Wyll smiles and starts to pull his tank top over his head. He throws it to the ground to accompany your attire. You hastily unweave the threads on his trousers, frantic hands shaking in anticipation of what was to come. Wyll helps you pull them down and off his legs, thick, uncut length bobbing so harshly against his stomach that it grazes your cheek.

“Ah, sorry!” Wyll apologizes for his member hitting you in the face. “Is.. is it.. alright?” He asks nervously.

You grab Wyll’s cock gently and stroke it slowly. His knee twitches beneath you.

“Oh sweetheart, it’s more than alright.” You purr as you feel his weighty girth pulse in your palm. You position your body over his, nestling the mushroom tip of his cock between your slick folds, right at your entrance. “Is this alright, love?” You ask once more.

Wyll gulps and tries to buck his hips up into yours.

“Yes, yes gods yes! Please, I need to be inside you!” He pleads as he grips your hips roughly.

“Sweet boy…” You coo as you sink yourself down onto Wyll’s twitching cock. You moan as your hips meet his.

You weren’t sure how long you had your head thrown back, but once you opened your eyes and looked down at your lover, you saw him in the most beautiful state you’d ever seen. Wyll’s gaze was fixated on the seeping juncture of your two bodies, mesmerized at the way your lips stretched and spread open to accept his length. His mouth hung open in a permanent gasp, transfixed at the sight of your throbbing clit peeking out just above where he was buried inside of you.

“Is it good, love?” You ask as you begin to rock yourself forward.

“Shit-“ Wyll chokes out and his grip on your hips tightens. “It’s- it’s so good- hells!” He cries out and begins to pull you back and forth on his cock in time with your movements.

You moan and writhe, enjoying the way Wyll was letting you get yourself off on him as he sat back and obliged your every request. He was entranced by the vision of you above him, using his body to bring yourself to the precipice of pleasure.

“Oh, fuck…” You scratch your nails down Wyll’s chest as you bring yourself closer and closer to your high.

“My love- I..” Wyll gasps out as he feels his own climax hurtling towards him.

“I know, I know my sweet… Just a bit longer, please…” You sooth him with your words and light caresses down his abdomen. “I’m almost there…”

“Yes, use me… please…” Wyll cants up at you. “Kiss me…” He pants out.

You oblige and lean down to smash your mouth upon his. His tongue breaches your lips and your dam breaks, orgasm overtaking your body. You groan loudly into Wyll’s mouth as your hips jerk against his, cunt squeezing his length harshly in climax.

“I’m-! Ah! I love you!” Wyll blurts out, gripping your body tightly as he pumps you full of his seed. You feel hot ropes splatter against your walls and spill out around where his cock was plugged up inside you. You caught your breath as you felt the last twitches of release fill you. Once you were sure Wyll had finished, you gently lifted yourself off his softening cock and tucked yourself into his side on the bed.

You pulled the blanket over the two of you and snuggled into his chest as he turned towards you. You stroked your thumb across his cheek lovingly.

“Soooo… what did you think?” You ask playfully.

“I hate to admit that arsehole was right, but Astarion might have been onto something. I should have done this sooner.” Wyll remarks with a smirk.

You chuckle and kiss him.

“Let’s not let him know that.”

#baldurs gate fanfiction #baldurs gate smut #bg3 #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 tav #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate fanart #wyll ravengard #wyll x tav #bg3 wyll #baldurs gate wyll #wyll romance #wyll ravenguard x tav #wyll ravenguard x reader #wyll smut #bg3 fic

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karnaca78 · 4 months ago

Note

speaking of which Karna, I wanted to hear about your Rom too !! If i understand/remember correctly, she was Micolash' supervisor of sorts ? Would you mind telling us more, and what other ideas you have for her ? 👀

Oh! Yes, I suppose I've shared very little about her even though she's always been a favourite. Thank you for giving me an excuse to yap about her 😭

In my timeline, Rom (1830-1869) is a fairly reputable anatomist at Byrgenwerth, as well as Willem's niece (extremely strained relationship, the vibes are rancid like you wouldn't believe).

She is very close friends with Caryll, one of the college's archaeologists and later self-appointed Runesmith who makes it his life's purpose to translate the word of the Great Ones.

With Laurence she is cordial at best— her dislike for him probably motivates her not to join the Choir, even though she is involved with Ebrietas (as an anatomist, she mostly studies her physicality).

Her relationship with Micolash is so far the most significant. In 1859, she hires him as her assistant during the Fishing Hamlet beach party because of his upbringing as a surgeon's son, and they do funky experiments with the villagers' remains. All in all she takes it rather better than him, but they both see their scientific worldview tilted on its axis.

(There's a whole fic I've been struggling to write for months on this topic... Hopefully I'll finally decide how I want to write it, but today is not that day)

After that, they work together to try and make sense of Kos and what her existence implies. Micolash, who is first and foremost a physicist, finishes in 1863 his doctoral thesis on the influence of the Great Ones on the laws of matter (which ends up being an odd jumble of mathematical theory, philosophical conjecture and whatever music he's managed to put into it). Rom has to battle Willem for him to give Micolash his doctoral title and keep him at Byrgenwerth, considering the rather abstract nature of his work, so they can pursue their research.

When Laurence and Micolash decide to research the blood they've found during one of their expeditions to the tombs under Yharnam, she doesn't get much involved. She sort of works with the Healing Church (founded 1867) from the sidelines but keeps her post at Byrgenwerth— Willem allegedly wants her to be elected in his place as head of the college. It turns out to be a ruse for him to use her for an attempt at ascension.

Rom and Micolash essentially remain friends but their relationship is rather ambiguous. She's 7 years older than him but after he gets his doctoral title, they interact as equals and have a brief romantic thing going on before Micolash leaves Byrgenwerth to join the Church (to rekindle his yaoi flame with Laurence no doubt).

(I'm at the moment writing a short Micolash/Rom fic. I'm still debating if it's worth finishing.)

She gets turned into the "Vacuous Spider" at age 39 following Willem's failed experiment. Micolash learns of it after the fact and will mourn her for the rest of his life. She spends about 20 years in the lake before the Good Hunter finally puts her to rest.

References:

this comic hints at whatever the hell these two were up to in the Fishing Hamlet

and this one hints that they are quite close (definitely enough for her to touch him which rather says a lot about it, I mean what)

#bloodborne #micolash host of the nightmare #rom the vacuous spider #laurence the first vicar #provost willem #bloodborne headcanons #pyro-madder #thanks for the ask <3

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drsugarsweet · 9 months ago

Text

Holding On To Smoke

Haunted Armor!Polnareff x Reader

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Synopsis: Through a stroke of good fortune, you have been placed in charge of an antique home. The former owners only asked that you kept the relics inside, and you agreed. If only they had mentioned that some of the relics aren't as lifeless as they initially seemed...

TW: Implied character death (not reader’s) Note: reader is GN, no pronouns aside from 'you' are used.

Masterlist ☆。*。☆。

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

A/N: Polnareff is SUCH a sad grieving beast, this only felt appropriate for him.

The home that you've come to enjoy for so many months is old, much older than you. It's full of items you're scared to touch for fear of shattering their delicate nature, of spiderwebs that look too beautiful to break and rooms that you haven't even stepped foot into. There simply isn't enough time or motivation for you to cover all of that ground, and yet…

And yet you notice small oddities that you can't fully explain away. There's odd clanking in the halls that sounds far too consistent to be the pipes. After all, they only rattle when you draw water from them. The rooms you frequent are miraculously free of dust even though you haven't had the time to drag out the duster and rags yourself. It’s hard to chalk up the cold and pointed breezes as a simple draft, and you swear you’ve seen something glowing out of the corner of your eye more than once - only to disappear when you actually look at it.

Oh, and you can’t ignore the massive elephant in the room.

More specifically, the massive suit of armor.

Upon first entering the house, it looked like an odd decoration but hardly one you could complain about. Old houses have weird decorations, right? It made you feel like you were walking into a murder mystery set but your attention was so set on moving in that you didn’t think much of it. It looked regal and mysterious enough to make you ponder over its relevance though. The original owners never mentioned it, did they? There’s no plaque to reveal who may have donned it, who it may have shielded or when. You shrug and decide you’ll research it at a later date.

That later date keeps getting pushed further and further back however. The mysterious old house has its fair share of secrets to keep you distracted - a library packed with dusty old books, a kitchen full of secret panels, not to mention the many, many nooks and crannies you weren’t told of. The only times you ponder about the armor again is when you pass its dulled surfaces in the hallway. It isn’t until you finally decide that a heavy cleaning of the home is in order lest your lungs fill with dust bunnies that the armor finally has your full attention.

How does one clean a suit of armor? You’re not sure. I’s not like it’s been in any books that you’ve read before. A wet rag should at least help with removing the dirt and dust, and you assume that the kind of polish used on metal surfaces in your kitchen could work. It’s a large suit and you know you’ll have your work cut out for you, but something draws you in despite the eeriness of the relic. It feels strange. It feels… Melancholic , somehow. Maybe you’re too wrapped up in the idea that this once belonged to someone, that someone could have lived, breathed, died in those iron plates. Maybe it’s the way the chestplate and helmet have engravings of broken hearts on them that tug at your own heartstrings. Whatever the reason, you feel like it’s your obligation to give this old thing one last hurrah in the way of cleaning it up.

As the rag glides across the faded surface and carries away the countless layers of grime, you start to see the former glory restored. The armor truly does look uncared for, though you aren’t surprised given the state of the house. It only spurs you on as more of that gleaming silver comes to light. There’s so many small details to pay heed to; engravings of hearts and chariots must be carefully detailed, and the sections of overlapping plates require a special amount of focus. At the very least there isn’t any corruption or rusting. It takes hours to clean with the occasional break for refreshments in-between, but pulling away from the now clear (albeit dull) suit sends a wave of relief through you. The low evening sunlight streaking through the stained glass windows of the foyer reflects in a beautiful kaleidoscope on the iron. For just a breath, a brief moment… You could almost swear that the suit of armor is glowing.

The moment passes as the clouds of kicked up dust finally force you to sneeze, and when you look at the armor again the glow is gone. It must have been a trick of the light. With that, you nod and set aside the polish to be done the next day. Perhaps the sheer amount of time or the curiosity that you’ve poured into the armor play a role in why you suddenly feel a sense of longing and connection towards the suit, almost as though you’re leaving an old friend. It’s odd, but you shrug the thoughts away and retire to your room for the evening. The next day will surely be brighter.

Downstairs, the darkness of the dusk is broken by a soft glow.

Weeks pass after your restoration of the armor. The oddities start as subtle movements at first. A hand shifts slightly or the helmet seems to perk in the direction of your favorite armchair; the dust settled around the suit’s base is disturbed, or is it just your imagination? As the house becomes cleaner in more miniscule ways, even that starts to make you wonder if it’s all in your head. You only start to think something is up when you come home from work to find the armor set at the foot of the stairs to the second floor, its gauntlets set against the scabbard of its rapier. It’s not like the suit froze when you entered - you’re sure you would’ve heard the clanking, and it’s just a suit, right? If you weren’t constantly swamped with work you’d almost be afraid of the potential haunting. You know it isn’t some mischievous intruder breaking in just to mess with you; the doors and windows are always the same as they were, and it’s not like anything is missing. There aren’t handbooks on how to deal with haunted houses like this and so you stand in the house’s entranceway, eyes glued to the relic posed mere feet away.

It feels like an eternity that you wait with bated breath for something to happen. When it does, there is no loud scream or rush of metal and pain; no ghastly beasts lunge for your throat, and as you stand gaping like a fish out of water, you realize that the movement of the armor is almost unnoticeable at first glance.

The visor of the helmet minutely tilts towards you and you know for a fact that gauntleted fingers twitch at the scabbard’s handle. The gig is up. You take one step back, and the armor jerks to face you further. Another step, and the helmet is facing you fully, its hand never leaving the hilt of the razor sharp rapier. The door is closed and solid against your back and you’re certain that this is where you will die.

The clanging of metal grows closer and closer with each step of the suit of armor. Even behind your eyelids - when did they close? - you can’t miss the icy blue glow painting the backs of your eyelids in dim light. Your eyes peel open just enough to witness the armor come to a still before you in its pale glowing glory. The finger guards on the scabbard have lifted away and now the suit stands before you motionless yet again, its gauntlets stiffly held at its side. The icy terror that initially held you in its grasp melts into mute confusion and unease. Why isn’t it attacking you? What could you have done to inspire this thing’s movement? Or…

Has it always been on the move?

Your racing thoughts are interrupted by another sudden jump from the suit of armor, but this one catches you even more off-guard. In one quick and jerky movement, the suit tumbles down onto one iron poleyn, its other knee bent as it bows its helmet before you. You have no idea what to say, what to do as the massive suit freezes yet again. There’s a moving set of armor in front of you. Holy shit , there’s haunted armor in your house.

For a minute, the two of you stay there in frozen time. The armor doesn’t move but it glows and pulsates with faint blue light. You don’t move aside from the slowing rise and fall of your chest. There’s a tension so palpable in the air that it surely could be cut through like butter with a hot knife, but you have no idea what to do or say to your unexpected housemate.

The first noise to break the room isn’t from you. It starts out so quietly that the rush of blood in your ears drowns it out. Slowly and drenched in uncertainty, a noise no louder than a whisper seems to fill the room. There’s a pause, and then the noise again, and again, growing louder with each confused blink it draws from you. The moment that it grows loud enough to register properly to your ears is the moment that you realize that it’s a voice echoing around you. The voice is hoarse and strangely hollow, but it sounds almost like a man. It echoes again from the suit of armor and you realize that it is speaking to you .

“Please… Give me an order.”

The stunned silence plaguing your voice is hard to break. Break it you do, but only because the tide of questions thrashing against your skull threatens to consume you.

“Who are you?”

Perhaps the right question would be who it - he - was. You begin to regret not looking up the source of the armor sooner. The voice goes silent and the glow swirls in a mesmerizing miasma of dull silver and ice. Whatever haunts this armor seems to form the strongest beneath its chestplate and helmet, and for the briefest of moments you wonder what you would see beneath the visor. As though it can sense your innate curiosity amidst the waves of confusion and fear, the being raises its helmet a fraction as though it were looking at you. The feeling of eyes becomes strong and yet oh so familiar.

“I am Jean Pierre Polnareff. You have laid claim to this land. I pledge my loyalty to you, to protect you and honor your every word.” The helmet drops again and the regal being donned in iron waits ever so patiently for your words. With its hand on its scabbard and that plasmic echo fading in and out like a heartbeat, it truly bears the visage of a noble warrior.

Okay, what the hell are you supposed to do about this?

There’s a fucking ghost knight in your house.

After a very rational and intense moment of thinking on the matter, you do the only thing that sounds right when confronted with such a ghostly specter. It doesn’t matter that it hasn’t made a move to harm you. You reach behind you, feeling around until you can grab the doorknob to the front entrance. You throw open the heavy door before hauling ass into the chilly night air, refusing to look back once lest the point of a rapier be the last thing you see.

You’ll find a hotel or stay with a friend for now. There’s no way in hell that you’re going back to your house, no way that you’re reenacting some stupid horror movie scene.

You go back to the house two days later.

Maybe it’s the twinge of pain in your shoulder and neck from sleeping on an uncomfortable futon. Maybe it’s the reminiscing that you’ve had time to do on the whole matter. You’ve never felt unsafe in the house; melancholy, sure, pensive if you stood in the right spot. You never felt afraid though, so why is the memory of the one that called himself Polnareff lingering in your mind?

The old home looms over you as the gray skies threaten to douse you in rain. Despite the being that you know lurks inside, the building itself doesn’t feel ominous. It feels like a rundown old manor and you can’t come up with a good reason to avoid going in any longer. The stone steps are slick beneath your shoes and with a mighty groan, the door swings forward into the foyer.

You aren’t really sure what you expected. Images of torn tapestries and broken mirrors came to your mind at first, like a raging beast rampaging in a bout of anger. The light of the day floods the foyer, and you breathe a sigh of relief to see that there is no such damage. As a matter of fact… There is no sign of the suit of armor at all. It isn’t at its base in the middle of the foyer. You know you should be on high alert, but the lack of surprises lulls you ever so slightly.

It feels silly to call out for another person in your own house, so you decide to take your chances and look around instead.

The den is free of the suit. You find yourself oddly disappointed.

The kitchen likewise lacks any spectral beings, and so too does the rest of the first story.

The memory of the first time that you saw the armor moving towards the staircase comes to mind, and your eyes travel up and along the mahogany banister towards the silent second story. If there were anywhere that your unassuming houseguest would be, you have a strong suspicion of its intended destination.

The doors to the library creak open as you peer inside and to your unexpected relief, a flash of iron catches your eyes. You push further in to be greeted by the broad, shining form of the suit of armor. Its helmet has tilted slightly back as though to acknowledge you but it has not moved. That glow remains but it is more dull than last time, the colors barely touching the dusty books and desk it stands in front of. That acknowledgment is all that you need and you take a deep breath of the stale air.

“I’m… Sorry. Sorry for how I acted last time. I wasn’t expecting you and I was scared, so I ran.” It’s an apology you never felt that you would make, but it feels wrong to leave things as they were. This thing has likely been here longer than you have been alive; the aura of sadness and mournful longing around it tinges your heart in a way you never expected.

The armor turns to look at you further with a set of clangs and you catch a glimpse of what its broad form was hiding. You haven’t had time to get a good look at the library beneath all of the blankets of dust, but the crest hanging on the wall is one you don’t recognize. The symbols of hearts and horse-drawn chariots bear a striking resemblance to the engravings on the knight’s armor. You startle as you realize that the very same insignia was on the paperwork that you signed to properly take ownership of this house.

The suit turns fully to face you and you swallow down your nerves. This could either go really well or really poorly based on how good you are at offending ghosts.

Its visor tilts to one side, then the other. It takes a step forward, and this time you stay where you are willingly rather than freezing in fear. Another step is taken. Another. By the time that your distorted face is reflected in the large breastplate of the armor, you realize just how cold the room has gotten around you. That visor leans down to look at you and you look up into it as icy tendrils of mist curl from beneath the edges. When the gauntlets reach up and towards you, it’s a miracle that you don’t feel fear. All that you feel is the strong wave of melancholy that you first felt upon stepping into this house, and you wonder just what this soul has suffered to exude such strong feelings of sadness.

The gauntlets do not reach for you, though they do briefly cradle your own hands in chilled metal before continuing upwards. The guarded fingers come to rest at the edges of the visor. Tendrils of ghostly energy curl at the iron knuckles, and it freezes like that. It’s as though it’s waiting for your order. With a flashback to the last meeting, you blink away crystals of iced tears that you didn’t even realize had appeared and answer its unspoken question.

“Show me your face. I want to see the knight of this house.”

You aren’t sure what to expect. There are no rules that could have prepared you, no pictures or carvings or films. The glide of the visor up and into the iron helmet is silent as it reflects the light. Whoever this man was, he is nothing like you expect, and that’s a pity because he is refined and elegant and somber in the way that only a lost soul can be.

Your hand shakes as you reach towards the visor. Crystals of ice gather on your fingertips as your eyes roam over the misty face of the man that once was. Sad eyes like faded seaglass stand out amidst shadows of sharp cheekbones and shroud-like silver hair that dances like spider silk in the wind. He speaks of tragedy and heartbreak without saying a word, and the brush of your fingers on the frigid iron of his helmet finally breaks what fear remains in your heart.

“You’ll protect me?” The words are barely a whisper, but you don’t have it in you to speak any louder.

The ghost - Polnareff - nods. Somber as he may be, you swear that the corner of his lips turns up for just a moment. That air of melancholy lifts ever so slightly from your heart, the glow of the being before you so much more vivid than before.

“I swear to you, as is my purpose. You’ll never be alone.”

#jjba #jojo's bizarre adventure #Doc's Fics #jean pierre polnareff #jjba x reader #monster au #teratophillia #stardust crusaders #jjba polnareff #sfw #polnareff x reader #reader insert #gender neutral reader

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ladylooch · 1 year ago

Note

First off, congrats! You’re such a fantastic writer and I look forward to all your posts! Could you write something about when guys do that thing where they use their body to their advantage? Like oh its crowded in this club? I’m just going to back you up against this wall with my big body since there’s no room. Or oh! You want a drink at the bar? Better plaster myself against you so the bartender will notice us better! Can’t reach something up high? Oh I’ll just stand literally right behind you and grab it for you! Just always seems to be in your space and you can’t tell if he’s doing it on purpose (yes) or not but it’s driving you crazy that he won’t make a move until you finally get him alone and give him a taste of his own medicine. Use your favorite big guy!

A/N: Thank you so much!!! I had to use Miles for this one.. I feel like he would have no problem using his wide shoulders and overall big, boy body to keep you safe at a crowded bar…. While driving you batty.

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: Implied smut, a lil angsty?, swearing, jealousy

Your intention when you and your friend, Miles, walked in was to head directly to the bar. But the huge, U shaped structure is completely stacked with people. Grass and bamboo are lit up by multicolored lights from low hanging Tiki figurines. It is Saturday night in the Fall, so you’re not sure why you’re surprised to see it so busy. Your steps falter as your eyes scan for an open space at the massive bar. Miles puts a hand on the small of your back when someone tries to sneak between the two of you.

“We are together.” Miles tells the dude. Your heart patters heavily in your chest at the way he says it. For a moment, you even let yourself pretend it’s real. But it’s not. You and Miles have been friends for far too long and his taste in women is nothing like you. Why be disappointed and ruin the friendship when you know it isn’t going to work?

“Gotta plaster you to my chest in here, damn.” Miles mutters down to you.

“We should just go. It’s too busy.” Your anxiety is already starting to get the best of you. Your fingers delicately rest on the hollow of your throat, heart rate increasing below your touch.

“No, you’ve been wanting to come here and now we are. We at least need to get a drink.” You gesture to the wall of people you’ve come to.

“How?”

“Follow me.” He weaves your hands together and begins to assertively press forward. You are shocked at how easily people move for him. Miles flirts and smiles and appeases his way forward. Nothing about him is aggressive, but the sea of people willingly shift for you both to go through. He has this way with people. It’s why you fell so easily for him. When he gets to the bar, he moves to the side for you to slip through. “See? Easy.”

“Okay well some of us aren’t loaded down with muscle and 6’2.”

The person next to Miles get up and leaves. He pounces on the seat and brings it over for you, gesturing for you to sit. You smile in thanks, perching yourself on it while he comes behind you. He is so close, you can feel the heat from his chest on your back. His pecs rub slightly against you as he reaches for the drink list. He skims it fast, then shakes his head.

“These are weird ass drinks.”

“That is kind of the point of the place. They all come in tiki styled cups and have like edible glitter in them or the whole drink is smoking.” He shakes his head.

“Can I get a Coors Light? Or are you going to be upset?” You roll your eyes.

“You’re such a hockey player.” He chuckles, showing his toothless grin. His big shoulders shrug.

“You love me anyway.” It’s so casual, but your brain grabs the memory, tucking it away for when you’re alone later.

Someone wants to sneak behind Miles, so he moves even closer to you until his chest is plastered completely along your back. Your eyes close, savoring his warmth and security. The full touch of him eases the remaining anxiety you had when you walked in. The bartender, a blonde with a bubbly personality and perfect eyebrows, comes to grab your order. She’s instantly flirty with Miles, who can’t help himself and flirts back. You gnaw on your bottom lip in irritation, scanning the drinks. You try to read them, but nothing is connecting. All you feel is hot anger in your abdomen, twisting your intestines until you feel queasy.

“I’ll have a Coors Light. What do you want?” He rubs a hand along your upper back, keeping his fingers on your shoulder. He presses his thumb into the place he knows you constantly have a knot. His touch makes the bartender back off, settling more into a professional friendly than before. Only the slight falter of her smile indicated the switch.

“Um, I’ll do the passionate paloma.” You chuckle as you say it, pushing the drink menu away.

“Great choice!” She walks off. Miles slowly glides his fingers down your arm until his hand is removed completely from you. Large TV’s fill the space above the bar that show cool, silent films of colorful, tropical locations. It’s all in ultra 4k HD. if you focus on it completely, you almost believe you’re there. The heat from all the people inside raises the temperature compared to the coolness outside in New Jersey.

“Cool vibe.” Miles says, leaning his mouth close to your ear. Your eyelashes flutter at the way his breath moves the baby hairs at your temple. Fuck, does he have any idea what this is doing to you? He seems so unaffected. Are the feelings really this one sided?

A man squeezes into the small space left empty by the stool Miles grabbed for you. Your polite smile gives him a greeting, then you turn back to watch the bartenders hustle in front of you. You’re pretty sure working here would be your own personal hell.

“Wow, so many choices.” The man says, gesturing to the large, long menu.

“Yeah, I had a hard time choosing.”

“What did you get?”

“A paloma. I love tequila.”

“Me too! And they supposedly have high-end stuff that’s hard to import from Mexico.”

“Really? Show me.” He runs through the list, pointing out the three different tequilas he knows are hard to come by. His arm brushes against yours while you also feel Miles ghost his fingers along your other arm. You resist the urge to shiver, but goosebumps still dart down your whole body.

“If you’re interested, and up for being out late, I know this great tequila bar a few blocks from here.”

“Hey bud, your date looks kinda bored over there.” Miles cuts in, nodding in the direction the guy came. He starts to give Miles a “butt out” look then takes in his full, massive form behind me. He must think better of it because he doesn’t try to extend the conversation further.”

“That was rude.” I snap at Miles when he walks away.

“He was being rude. Why do guys think women are around only for their entertainment?”

“What? We were making small talk.”

“That’s what I’m here for.”

“Well you’re behind me.”

“Here.” He taps your hips for you to get up. You stand and he sits down on the stool, pulling you onto his big thigh. You stumble a bit, needing to clutch his shoulder for balance. Your legs are turned between his and his wide stance supports your full weight easily. “Now we can talk.” He smiles. You stare wordlessly at him as his hand makes a home on your left hip.

“Here you go!” The bartender sets your drinks down, then rushes off to the next group. You hand Miles his boring beer bottle. Your drink is in a plastic coconut with a striped pink and teal straw. It’s garnished with a slice of grapefruit and a purple flower. You cheese excitedly at him, taking your phone out to snap a picture. You wiggle around a bit while doing so. Miles clears his throat, adjusting slightly on the seat with a heavy breath.

“You okay?” You ask him.

“Mhm.” He takes two long gulps of his beer, then exhales heavily again.

“Why are you so weird tonight?” You blurt out.

“I’m not?”

“You are.”

“Is that lipstick new?” He suddenly tries to change the subject.

“See? What is that!”

“I don’t know. I’m on edge a bit, I guess.” He shakes his head, sliding his fingers on your hip so they splay down your thigh more. Your stomach flip flops at the awareness of his fingers tips so close to intimate areas.

“How did your date go the other night?” Miles has been on and off Raya the last few months. Every time he is off, he spends every single day he can with you. But he inevitable goes back on to “see what new fish there are”. It shouldn’t bother you, but it does. Talking about this will easily distract you from his fingers.

“Won’t be seeing her again.” He rolls his eyes, sighing heavily again. His lips tilt his beer back for another long sip.

“Not pretty enough?” His eyes meet yours.

“No.” He drags the word out. “She was beautiful. Just… not for me. I’m off the apps again. For good this time.” You cock an amused eyebrow. “I’m serious.” He says, drawing a circle on your thigh with his thumb. “Gonna focus on finding something real.”

“You’re great. You’ll find someone.” You hesitantly reach up for his hair, pushing his stray hairs back into place. Miles’ eyes close briefly before they open again, a little softer and sweeter.

“Hey, my mom is coming to town this weekend. You around for brunch? Maybe dinner at that tapas place too?”

“Yeah! I love Cheryl.”

“She loves you too.” He smiles. “How is your drink?”

“Good. Wanna sip?” He winces at the idea of tequila. “It’s good tequila. Not shit.”

“Ooooo that is good.” He murmurs after taking a sip. “Gimme more.” He sucks up another two sips before you rip the drink out of his hand.

“Drink your shitty beer and be sad.” You laugh.

“I’m getting that next. Don’t tell the boys.”

You end up sticking around for another couple of drinks. The place eventually dies down a bit, but you both start to get hungry. At the end of the block is a pizza by the slice shop. You both grab a massive slice of their famous buffalo chicken pizza then decide it’s time to call it a night. Miles has practice tomorrow morning and is leaving in the afternoon on a quick, two day road trip. As you are walking back to your apartment, you still past a country bar where music filters out onto the sidewalk to you. Miles, a huge country music buff, stops you. His head falls back, groaning at the stars.

“I love this song. You have to dance with me.” He reaches for your fingers that have spent more time in his today than ever before. You listen, recognizing the slow cords of a guitar and the deep, steady tone of Luke Combs’ voice.

“And if your touch, shattered me like glass.” Miles sings. The hand holding yours lifts while his other wraps around your hips. He pulls you close, so your temple brushes against his jaw as he leans his head towards yours. “Even if I knew the day we met you’d be the reason this heart breaks…. Oh I’d love you anyway.” You can’t help but lean into him further. He reacts by tightening his grip on you.

You know you shouldn’t. It’s so dangerous to do this, but you still let yourself pretend.

You imagine this is a date. That when you get back to your place, he’s going to come in. He will follow you into your bedroom, clothes littering the floor, before he will lay you down and love you like the words in this song suggest.

“There’s just some things that leave a man no choice.” Miles breaks through your thoughts. His voice sounds great combined with the cords of the song and Luke fading into the background.

“Get the fuck off the sidewalk, morons.” Someone snaps as they walk by, making Miles and you jolt.

“Fucking Jersey.” Miles rolls his eyes as the guy continues on. His blue eyes glare at the man’s retreating back. You step away from his embrace completely, shivering at the windy bite that digs into your body at the disappearance of Miles’ body heat.

“I love this song too.” You say to break some of the tension away.

The rest of the walk is a blur. You’re lost in your thoughts, wondering why tonight feels so different. Miles has always been flirty and touchy, but this seems so different. It’s almost like he can’t stop himself from touching you. Or maybe this is all a hopeful illusion created by your love-sick heart and willing mind?

“Where ya going?” Miles asks, fingers lacing with yours to stop your next step. You glance up, realizing you’re at your apartment. He chuckles, tugging your fingers to lead you into the lobby. He holds your hand the entire elevator ride and down to your front door. Right as you pull your keys out, he envelopes you into his arms. It’s a deep, secure hug. You cup the large muscles of his back, breathing in the delicious scent of his cologne. It assaults your senses, making a happy bubble fill your chest and relax your body. This is too good. You’re losing hold of the reality that you’re just friends.

“Miles, you’re killing me.” You sigh, closing your eyes. You can’t help it. He’s been in your space all night and you are losing your god damn mind about it. Slowly, his head tilts down to stare into your eyes. The desire there is unmistakable. Blue, stormy waves of need for you.

“Please let me kiss you.” He swallows hard. “All night, I’ve been dying to taste this lipstick that I know is new.” His thumb ghosts along your bottom lip, gathering some of the color onto his skin. “I can’t stop thinking about why you bought it… or for who.”

For him, of course it was for him.

You look up at his plumped lips, dying for them to touch yours. So you jump, leaping off into a life-altering decision before you can talk yourself out of it again.

“I bought it for you.” You confess, wrapping a hand around the back of his neck. You crash his lips to yours hard. His hand instantly threads through the hair at the base of your neck, cradling your head as he tips you back to deepen the kiss. His tongue rolls around your mouth, touching every bit of it with the wet muscle. A moan hits his mouth from yours. He pulls away, but you launch yourself further into him, not letting him catch his breath. You want him as breathless as he’s made you all damn night. Your arms hold his shoulders as your keys boop against his back.

Whatever you thought this would be like with him has been shattered to smithereens. It’s better. So much fucking better.

You’re obliterated by the taste of him when you pull away. Your eyes lift to meet his, not sure how you’re going to live the rest of your life knowing he tastes this good and not having him.

“I have been wanting to do that for so long.”

“Why didn’t you?” You groan, gripping his shirt into a fist.

“Because I love you so much and I’m terrified to lose you. I’m such a fuck up with women. You know.”

“You love me?” It’s breathless, unbelievable as you repeat the words he again, so casually just said to you.

“Of course I do.” He looks down at your fingers as he plays with them by your hip. He is so vulnerable. Your throat tightens, wondering if it’s possible you’re still pretending like you had been during your dancing interlude. You wait until he gathers the courage to look at you.

“Miles, I love you too.” Relief sags his shoulders and he goes in for another kiss. This one is more patient, taking the time to explore his new territory further.

“And everything else before this hasn’t worked out for you because you haven’t been with me.” You assure him, then tug him back down to your mouth with his shirt.

“I’ve wanted it to be you. So many times.” He murmurs into your kisses. You hold his face with both of your hands as your tongues tangle together. You can’t help but smile at his words. His lips connect with your teeth. He pulls slightly back, admiring your blissed out look below him. “You gonna let me come in? Maybe get into something more comfortable.” Your body stills. Oh my GOD. “I’m dying to finish Outer Banks.” You sigh, rolling your eyes and slapping at his chest. He laughs with a honk. “Maybe my hands end up in your pants. I don’t know.”

“They better.” You tell him, shoving your keys into the door and walking into your place. Miles begins to walk down the hall, taking his shirt off as he goes. You frown, pointing to the living room. “Miles, I don’t have a TV in my bedroom.”

“I know.” He calls down to you as you hear his jeans hit the floor.

Oh.

#Miles Wood #Miles Wood Blurb #Miles Wood X Reader #My writing #hockey writing #NHL fan fiction #NHL imagine #colorado avalanche

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cardinalcanis · 1 month ago

Text

The interview

Summary: Life was as normal as it gets for an Administratum pencil pusher as it gets for Ovidious Sulla, until he is being summoned by the Lord of Ultramar himself. (Just wanted to make a thing detailing how Ovid and Guilliman met.)

Pairing: Roboute Guilliman x M!OC

TW: slight sexual comments.

Word count: 3,585

Tag squad (let me know if you wish to be tagged on stuff): @jaghatai-khock @horuslupercal

If you prefer AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/59946253

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

There was something meditative in all the little rumbles and hums produced by voidships. Ovidious had been juggled back and forth between vessels for so long in his life that the true silence in land just made his anxious thoughts worse. Luckily the bureau didn’t seem to be changing its mind soon regarding his labors.

“The governor of Delphax-87 is asking for the state of his plasteel shipment.” hummed a woman whose artificial gaze scanned a scroll hanging off a servo skull.

“IM-PR-DEF134678990332-41-C.” noted Ovidious not lifting his attention from the dataslate he was working on, another hand filling a form without even looking.

“That one.”

“I already sent it back. The format was incomplete, apart from missing two of the required signatures for it to be able to be processed into approval.” There was a slightly frustrated tone in his words. “He is playing a fool to see if he could skip the process.”

“So typical.” added an older man almost obscured fully by piles of papers, fingers flying over a coppery dome full of keys that clacked with each touch. The mechanism is connected to four different mechadendrites scribbling on parchment. “Governors trying to skip standard processes are as much of a rule of nature as Ovidious getting ghosted by commissars on space ports.”

Both him and the other two women in the room chuckled, Ovid just exhaled, mixing a low groan in it. It was two months ago but still stings a bit.

“Maybe they just need to learn that trick.” added the woman who had been silent so far, the implant on the side of her head blinking two different lights on unpredictable intervals. “Get your product requests delivered by a strong man in uniform with sad eyes and complicated feelings around intimacy so Sheepy will get them approved in an instant.”

“Oh and add… what was that term you mentioned the other day Casta?” asked the older man while chuckling to the woman with machine eyes.

“Daddy issues, yes that is important.”

“Are you sure you work here? Because you sound like the worst.” Ovidious tried to keep his mind in the current inventory review, but from time to time the name of a specific gun or ammunition would remind him of the cocky blond’s exaggerated war stories. He leaned back on the chair, his neck producing a satisfying cracking sound at the stretch.

“You know…”

“If it comes from you, Dasha, I do not want to know.” Sulla interrupted her with a sassy grin.

Dasha rolled her eyes then inclined herself on the desk, as if she was prepared to drop the biggest gossip of this side of the galaxy.

“A ship docked into ours ten minutes ago.”

“Nothing new.” noted the older man over the sound of the keys.

“It is a Gloriana-class flagship.” she confirms, the room stood in silence for a moment, only the sound of keys being pressed and quill upon paper had answered.

“So you are implying…” Casta broke the silence.

“For it to be The Macragge's Honour, yes!” She seemed a bit fidgety.

“And?” Ovidious Sulla raised a coppery eyebrow. “Is not like any of us is getting any close to action, most likely the Captain requested help with repair supplies.” He turned towards the shelf behind him, knowing exactly which paper he needed from the unending identical rows. “There was some damage at the ZF-37B sector in the freight lines after the most recent warp jump.”

“Maybe that’s what Sheepy needs.” commented Casta, her tone becoming a higher pitch, as it turns when she is about to come up with some atrocity.

“A warp jump?” Ovid answered, faking obliviousness about the incoming new attack to his person.

“Nooo, a Space Marine. Don’t you think Theseo?”

“That would really add to his dossier of failed commitment efforts.” Theseo, the old man, nodded.

Ovidious let out a quick hiss of breath through his teeth.

“Getting ghosted by an Ultramarine after helping him Ultra-release his Ultra-load the previous night is top Sheepy experience.”

The room submerged itself in an unapologetic cackle. Aside from Sulla who rubbed his hands all over his face while producing a series of frustrated groans. He took a deep breath; inhaling the smell of candle wax, ink and paper, lowkey wanting it to swallow him whole.

“Can we return to the galaxy of thirty seconds ago where the term ‘Ultra-load’ wasn’t part of our speech?”

All of their heads turned towards the door like hawks at the sudden presence of incoming footsteps that didn’t appear to be from a servitor. They resumed work, suppressing any conversation.

The door opened with a rusty wail, here it came none less than the Captain herself, gaze half lost in a dataslate. Navy medals and decorations jingled in her uniform as she moved with calculated military stiffness.

“Sulla, walk with me.” She ordered.

He thanked The Emperor for the opportunity of escaping the room, Ovid wasn’t the most religious man but did believe that sometimes, just sometimes, he was being heard.

“As you wish, Lady Captain.” His tone was formal and composed, brushing his head back and straightening the folds on his clothes after standing up.

Lady Captain Lena Korr reminded him a lot of one of his brothers, or at least what he remembered about him. Didn’t like to be still for long and thought way better while moving; he followed her pace around the corridors as she asked him about the current supplies and the reports on the recent tithes collected. Their conversation was calming, it was something he knew and distracted his mind from whatever that conversation with those other three fools he called friends had turned to. Even though he couldn’t but notice some extra layer of stress on the woman, adding to the fact that they had been pacing a bit farther away from their normal route around the archives: started to water an anxious seed inside his brain.

“This is him, My Lords.” She suddenly said to a third presence, breaking the cadence on her voice.

Ovidious’ gaze rose from the dataslate he had been fixated upon, rose more, more. The two walking walls of blue ceramite pretending to be men in front of them regarded him behind expressionless helmets. His adam’s apple went up and down in a sound swallow.

The Ultramarines didn’t say a word, a servo skull hovered closer, reddish light bathing as it produced incomprehensible machine clicks.

“Genetic scan complete, subject verified.” it spew in broken robotic words. “Ovidious Sulla, Tithes and Resources Bureau.”

The giants stood silent, but their movements pushed him to walk with them. Captain Lena patted Ovid on the back and gave him a short lived smile. What was going on?

He tapped nervously his mechanical fingers on the other metal forearm as he followed them, the marines were unsettling, huge and bulky looking but walked effortlessly at a pace someone carrying so much weight shouldn’t. It wasn’t long until he realized they were taking him out of The Golden Scorpion into a different one, way larger based on his previous experiences. Ample corridors of blue and gold groaned and rumbled with the sounds of a massive war machine, each step he took felt like tying an ever tightening noose around his neck, no one cares about administratum clerks until something goes wrong.

The blue giants stopped in front of massive polished doors, Ovid could see himself reflected on the perfect surface; tired honey colored eyes over high cheekbones, a big aquiline nose reminding him how he could never lie about his maccragian origin and reddish copper hair brushed backwards.

“The Primarch will see you shortly.” one of the ultramarines finally spoke, his voice echoing inside the helmet.

“The Primarch, you mean…” the noose became so tight the man momentarily forgot how to breathe. What does the Primarch want with him? Did he misfile the most recent Imperial Harvest? Was he being accused of heresy? No, that would be inquisition matters… the memory of the inquisition made him shudder and sweat… But no matter what he could come up with, nothing seemed to match why it would merit the Primarch’s attention.

The doors slid open before him with a low hiss, revealing a vast library adorned with Ultramarine banners, infinite bookshelves filled with tomes, scrolls and data-slates meticulously arranged across various surfaces extended until the eye could see, and the distant form of the Primarch himself, standing across a monumentally large desk designed for his superhuman size. The towering figure of Roboute Guilliman radiated an unmistakable authority, even from across the room. Ovid had read countless reports, heard men of the church chant verses about him, but seeing the Primarch in person was a different matter entirely.

“Sulla” came the voice, deep and steady, but commanding enough to quell the slight tremor in Ovidius' steps. He obeyed, walking forward until he stood just a few feet from Guilliman. “Take a seat.”

The Avenging son gestured at a normal sized chair tucked by the desk, sitting on it he felt like a child due to the size difference.

For a moment, there was silence as Guilliman studied him, those piercing blue eyes assessing every aspect of the man standing before him. Ovidius could feel the weight of that gaze. He’d faced inquisitors, overseers, even the unfeeling bureaucracy of the Administratum, but nothing compared to the silent scrutiny of the Lord of Ultramar. But still, there was something deeply human about those overwhelming eyes. They were a bit sunken in and darkened, like those of someone who hasn’t had much sleep recently, a familiar sight from what he tends to see in the mirror. He found himself unapologetically staring back at the man, the moment felt so surreal, if he was told he had fallen asleep over parchment he would have believed it.

Ovidious casted his glance aside with slight shame, was it okay to look the Primarch in the eye? It felt disrespectful, but if it truly were, wouldn’t he have been corrected already? He decided to glance again, straightening himself and trying to appear as well put together as possible.

"Do you know why you're here, Ovidius Sulla?" Guilliman's voice broke the silence, his tone formal, yet with an underlying edge.

Ovidius swallowed hard.

"No, my Lord. I was not informed of the purpose for my summons." He kept it neutral, respectful, though nerves buzzed under his skin. He saw his name, unmistakable on a dataslate over the desk, was that his dossier?

“I apologize for the lack of warning, even though it was intentional.” Guilliman adjusted his large frame on the chair. The man apologized to him? Does he deserve that? The meeting spiraled into so much confusion and a myriad of unanswered questions. "I’ve read your dossier. You’re not from the bureaucratic administratum tradition families. You come from farmers; livestock, wasn’t it? A simple life, got into by mass recruitment pretty young, rose through generally inherited by blood ranks. And yet, here you are."

Sulla gave a slight nervous nod. "Yes, my Lord. My family raises livestock on Macragge."

“You are not like most in the Administratum. You’ve seen the dirt beneath the Empire's polished exterior, haven’t you?"

Ovidius blinked, unsure how to respond.

"I have, my Lord. My duties within the Tithes and Resource Bureau often took me to war-torn sectors, where... where the Imperium’s reality is less ideal." Was that the correct answer? Is this loyalty being tested?

"Yes." Guilliman’s voice became sharper butt there wasn’t a thing in his tone that could be read as approval or disapproval of his statement. There was a pause. "You’ve also faced the Inquisition.”

Ovidius felt a lump in his throat. Guilliman had wasted no time in cutting to the most vulnerable parts of his life. He felt like his own soul slid off his body and became a puddle on the floor. This is it, the inquisitor had reopened the case and possibly he has gotten tied up to some bigger mess that has even the Primarch involved.

“You’ve been tortured.” Guilliman continued “Falsely accused. Saved from servitorization at the last second.” he eyed his mechanical hands that were fiddling with obvious anxiety. “Reputation bruised."

"That is correct, Lord Guilliman. I was exonerated, but the experience..." He hesitated, searching for the right words, if the Primarch was as described he could be hearing Ovidious’ heart trying to break through his chest. "It left its mark."

The Primarch’s gaze narrowed, an eerie cold went down the accountant’s spine.

"And yet, you still serve. Despite what the Imperium has done to you, you remain loyal." Guilliman leaned in slightly, his imposing presence closing the distance. "Why?"

The question hung in the air, an obvious test to Emperor knows what, one that Ovidius knew he could not answer lightly. He took a breath, steadying himself.

"Because the Imperium is greater than the sum of its flaws. It’s imperfect…” He’s getting the knife to the brain anyways, so better just be as sincere as he could. “...yes, but it’s the only thing standing between humanity and destruction. I’ve seen what happens when the system fails, when worlds fall into chaos, well seen the numbers. I believe... I believe it can be better… And to be sincere my lord, is not like I have any other option."

He felt something shift in Guilliman at those words. Was he smiling ever so slightly?

"You believe it can be better" Guilliman repeated, he only nodded to his confession silently.

Roboute Guilliman leaned even closer over the desk, the fine cloth on his tunic describing the strong assets of his figure, his gaze sharpening as he lowered his voice.

"And what of me, Ovidius Sulla?” Ovid shivered at the sound of his full name in the primarch’s voice “Do you believe I can be better? Or do you, like so many others, see me as a god, returning to lead you all to salvation? Do you kneel when you look at me?”

The sudden change in tone hit Ovid like a shockwave. His mind raced. The Primarch was testing him, pushing him. Ovid had heard the many sermons of people worshiping Guilliman, venerating him as some divine savior returned from the dead. He could feel the weight of the moment pressing on him. His instinct was to show respect, to bow, to affirm his loyalty. But now sitting in front of him, there was something else on the man, he was powerful, yes. Stronger than any man on this ship? Absolutely. Most likely a mind that would make him feel dull and stupid? Little to no doubts. But that wasn’t all, he had always been quite a perceptive kid… Ovid looked the Primarch in the eye, gathering his courage.

"No, my Lord," he said firmly. "You project deep respect and some fear on me, in front of me there is a stranger to me backed by legend and power.” He had to take a breath in and out, noticing how shaky his voice was. “It is normal for people to want to bow to things that are greater than what they can understand; in front of me there is a giant, powerful, beautiful, eloquent and intelligent…” he braced himself knowing the heresy he was about to speak “...man. Your gaze is penetrating, yet tired. Your shoulders are strong, yet they seem to feel way too burdened to you. Your voice is commanding and charming, yet the corners of your tone denote exhaustion. Tiredness, burden, exhaustion… those are not the feelings of a god but a man.”

For a heartbeat, the room was silent. Guilliman’s eyes bore into his, and Ovid braced himself for rebuke. His family will wonder why the astropathic messages stopped coming, he didn’t even finish reading the last message from his mother about his seventh sibling’s third child. But instead, the Primarch’s lips quivered, almost imperceptibly, into something resembling approval.

"Good," Guilliman murmured, his tone shifting, softer but still sharp. "The last thing I need is another sycophant who will only tell me what I want to hear."

Relief washed over Ovid, though he was careful not to show it too openly. But then, something unexpected. Guilliman's gaze lingered on him longer than before, no longer just measuring his words, but something more. It was subtle, but Ovid could feel it, a faint flicker of... what? Curiosity? Amusement? Something in Guilliman’s eyes softened, a hint of something personal.

Roboute Guilliman stood up, towering over Ovidious even more. He gestured to him to also stand and follow. They walked through the library until they reached an observation window, quite a luxury for a battleship, any ship to be fair. It oversaw that hellish tear in space, the Cicatrix Maledictum, splitting the galaxy in half and spewing horrors beyond comprehension.

“You are right.” Guilliman said, not specifying to which part of Ovid’s words he was referring to. “I am not only leading the Indomitus Crusade but trying to keep the imperium from burning down. Managing the intricate bureaucracy that holds the Imperium together, it is a task as grueling as it is vital. I need someone close to me with the skill to manage the delicate and labyrinthine web of logistics, communications, and political relationships that the Administratum oversees, all while operating with an intimate understanding of my vision for a more reformed, organized Imperium.” His gaze bore down into him, now accentuated by their towering height difference when standing up. “This is not.” and there was an accentuation in the ‘not’ “just about finding someone who could file reports or handle numbers; I need someone I could trust implicitly to make decisions when I am away in battle. Someone who could act on my behalf with the authority of the Primarch.” He extended him a thick stack of papers. “It details the functions and responsibilities of the post. That is the first part of five, the rest will be sent to you for later review and signing.”

Ovid frowned at the stack of papers in his hands, unsure how to answer. But before he could speak, Guilliman continued, moving closer, his immense presence filling Ovid’s field of view.

"The role I’m assigning to you." Guilliman said, his voice now low and deliberate, "will put you closer to me than any other. You’ll see things most men cannot fathom, experience pressures few can endure. And I will demand your best, every moment. Can you handle that, Ovidius Sulla? Will you stand by me, knowing I do not want your blind obedience, but your courage and honesty?"

The question was not just about the job anymore. The room felt charged, as if something unspoken passed between them. Ovid’s heart raced, not just with the tension of the interview, but with a strange sensation, an awareness of the man before him, not just as a Primarch, but as Roboute Guilliman.

“You have questions.” Guilliman spoke “You want to ask ‘why me?’ “

“You… you are right my Lord.” his breath short and shallow, feeling increasingly lightheaded. “There are many more… experienced, senior, more influential and renowned people in the administratum than me.” He extended the stack of papers back towards the Primarch with an apologetic gaze, but Guiliman didn’t accept them.

“You are right Sulla.” The Lord of Ultramar pushed the stack, gently, towards him. Their hands touching briefly, he wondered how they would feel, soft or callused? Some of the simple things that steel has stolen from him. “I could have assigned one of my sons, as the Ultramaries are trained in logistics and statesmanship. But they are more familiar with war than the job I needed them for. I read through thousands of dossiers, thousands of names crossed my desk, men and women of impeccable records, many of whom had lived their lives in service to the machine of the Imperium, without a stain or blemish upon their careers. But flawless records meant little when true pressure is applied. I need someone who has faced adversity, someone who could withstand the constant weight of scrutiny and emerge stronger for it. I need someone who understands the Imperium's flaws intimately, someone who would not flinch when confronting the harsh truths about its institutions. Someone who could stand firm in the face of overwhelming bureaucracy without breaking. That’s why you stood up to me” The man paused and Ovidious could finally breathe “You have seen some of the darkest sides of the Imperium but still believe in its potential, you are unafraid to point out the Imperium’s flaws to me. You will do.”

Ovid had to take a seat on the window’s railing hugging the papers close to himself, to receive such compliments all at the same time AND FROM THE PRIMARCH HIMSELF, it made his head spiral in so many thoughts.

“It is an honor, My Lord.” he said, quite out of breath.

“Is that a yes?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” the man turned to watch the scar on space, Ovidious felt relieved as his heavy gaze left him. “I’ll leave you free reign to name and assign any aid and assistants you think you need, and Sulla…”

He straightened and looked up to meet the Primarch’s eyes once more, Guilliman… smiled at him, truthfully, lasting just a moment, catching Ovid off guard.

"Thank you."

The tension broke, but something else lingered in the air. An understanding, a spark of something that neither man fully recognized, but both felt nonetheless.

#fanfic #warhamer 40000 #my writing #roboute guilliman #roboute guilliman x male!oc #wh40k oc #m!oc #guilliman #primarch headcanon #primarch

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ca-8 · 9 months ago

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・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・

𝕐𝕒𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣𝕖!𝔹𝕦𝕟𝕫𝕠 𝔹𝕦𝕟𝕟𝕪 𝕩 𝕋𝕠𝕪 ℝ𝕒𝕓𝕓𝕚𝕥!ℝ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕣 (ℙ𝕒𝕣𝕥 𝟚)

・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・

(This is a yandere fanfic meant to portray behaviors seen in fiction and fiction only. This is not to represent people who have real mental/personality disorders and/or trauma that cause them to gain obsessive behaviors. Please do not romanticize any behavior like this seen in real life, and do not actively seek out a relationship with someone who is prone to hurt themselves and/or others. Keep fantasies in fiction. Thank you.) (Major Trigger Warning: Implied abuse, descriptive human gore, ingestion of human insides, body hacking) .

The pile was gone.

Little Hoppy was licking up the bloodied stains on the floor. (Y/n) had forgotten she was there until they realized they had been staring down at her for the past half hour. Their vision became stable again, their body was no longer trembling, and their stomach growled with reluctant, sickly relief. So they sat there, filling their shriveling lungs with air that was curing out its hellish stench. Just like on the day when they all feasted on Devils.

Which made this impossible. (Y/n) and presumably every other toy in Playtime Co. gorged on hundreds of bodies for years, until they ran out. One minute they were bathing in a victorious bloodbath, the next their stomachs begged them to turn on each other. That's why it was always so empty. That's why (Y/n) and little Hoppy always hid. So…who…?

Gloved hands coated in red rested on their shoulders. And his godawful voice whispered in their ear, "Hello, darling."

Get up. Run. Grab Hoppy and run as far away as you can. But no matter how loud their inner voice screamed at them, they sat right in place. Little Hoppy had curled up in their lap and fallen asleep.

(Y/n) opened their mouth to scream, but Bunzo quickly hushed them as he leaned in to rest his head on their shoulder.

"Look how peaceful she looks. That must've been the first meal she had in a long time." They whimpered; he was so close that their cheeks touched. His breath reeked of Devil. "It must've been your first meal too, right, (Y/n)?"

His voice lowered when he said their name. There was so much pleasure laced within his tongue, they could feel him practically trembling as each letter spilled out. He gripped their chin with such force, as if he would break their jaw open if they even attempted to move from him.

No, he would. He'd have them writhe in agony and drag them back down to his little "playhouse". They looked down, their breath hitching. Bunzo's bloodied hand was caressing over the line of stitches connecting their beautiful (f/c) fur-covered thigh with a raggedy leg of another toy on their line.

It hurt. It stung so badly feeling the needle go inside and outside their leg It hurt. It stung so badly feeling the needle go inside and outside their leg with the thread harshly chafing against each hole. But what hurt more was tearing off a leg from another (Y/n)'s decaying corpse.

"You've been starving for so long, all because you thought you didn't need me. But now look at you, so filled with energy and beauty and life again. I was so considerate to look past the fact that you abandoned me, and brought you and your little pet back from the brink of death."

That God they praised was him. "Where did you get it?" their voice croaked from their voice box. It was the only thing they could push from their mouths that wouldn't make him harm them.

Bunzo's smile widened, and he brought his mouth closer to theirs. "A former employee was roaming around Playcare, all alone in the dark. I saw them, and I thought of you," he explained.

"How did you find me?"

"Oh, it wasn't hard. Who can go far with only one leg, anyway? And your only notable quality is how absolutely captivating you are, my dear. Having beauty that only I can admire."

Something was caught in the corner of their eye, and they glanced up. It was a rotting poster splattered in decomposing blood, but the most disgusting thing on it were the cartoon versions of (Y/n) and Bunzo embracing each other, surrounded by hearts and drowning in once better days.

Suddenly, he held their hand. "I'm so tired of worshipping your leg, it only makes me crave the rest of you. Come back with me, (Y/n). You and your pet. We can be a family together," Bunzo whispered. "From the second we were made, we were meant for each other. I can take care of you two. Other people will want to look for that former employee. You won't even have to lift a finger, I can kill them for you!" He wrapped his arms around them, forcing their hands to dig in their sides, and the maniac began to squeeze. "Do you know what you made me do when you left? I was so scared, so- so angry, I hurt so many little friends, so many of me!"

Little Hoppy's ears rose just a bit as soon as Bunzo rose his voice. She slowly rose from (Y/n)'s lap and looked up at their parents' trembling figure getting so painfully squeezed by the strange, bloodied bunny man. A low snarl erupted from that wide, toothless grin.

"It was so bizarre seeing myself bleed out by my hands - seeing so so much pour out from such tiny little bodies - but I had to do it. I had to! You are the one assigned to me, it's not my fault theirs are all dead, it doesn't mean they should have you-!" She leaped from their lap and flew straight to his face, sending him back on the ground. (Y/n) didn't look back, but their ears were doused in howls and curses as Bunzo tried to pry the little one off of him. She was little, but she wasn't prey. (Y/n) sprinted down the hallway and around the corner. They heard a gut-wrenching wail from little Hoppy, but their legs just kept going. It was pointless - when the Devils were wiped from this place, when the toys' only source of food were digested, all of their friends, their family, everyone only saw each other as either food or foe. The naive against the desperate, the weak against the strong.

And Bunzo was right, they were weak. They couldn't even take care of a little bunny. They could only run and hide and pray to a cruel God that he would disappear so they could fall asleep and never wake up.

The pitiful rabbit pushed open the door to a small, dark room and locked it behind them, then laid beneath a desk and held their mouth shut.

It had gotten quiet. Too quiet, and for too long.

Then, the silence broke far outside (Y/n)'s blanket of shadows.

"(Y/N)!" Bunzo screamed. His target stifled a sob. "I can't do this without you… I can't live without you! Don't you remember how beautiful we were together before The Hour of Joy? We knew how those Devils really saw those children, so we gave them the best life possible! We were one big happy family! We can be that again! We don't have to live out our final days in misery!"

'Go away. I don't care. I want nothing to do with you.' Yes, in the past, things were different. They were both powerless, but still made each orphan feel so loved and special. Just like how he made them once.

"I don't want you to die a hypocrite, (Y/n)," he continued. "You killed just as many as I did! I saw it all, the way you tore their jaws opened to silence their screams, how your breathtaking eyes blazed with fury as you ripped out their spines… it was heavenly."

(Y/n) clawed their face. They hated those Devils. They hated seeing their plans for those innocent children, they weren't fit to be called human! They had to protect them, they had to! They couldn't stand to see another one go! Those screams, they were like music - wonderful enchanting music! - even when living so beautifully, they've never experienced something so delightful before hearing such howls melt into choking groans as a Devil's blood flooded from their broken mouths. They didn't deserve to live! If those children knew what they were going to do to them, they would've done the same thing. THEY DID NOT DESERVE TO LIVE.

And then they saw the looks on their little faces. They looked at them as if they were the monster. They weren't, (Y/n) was just trying to protect them! But when they smiled and approached them and outstretched their arms for a hug like they always did, the children only screamed in utter terror, breaking that lovely song.

"So how can you give me that face when you've committed the same sins as I have?"

They couldn't kill again. When the children ran from them, they couldn't bring themselves to harm another. All of a sudden, that hatred had diminished, so they turned and hid, and the screams went on. They only stopped when Bunzo found and urged them to eat. They were starving, and they didn't mind it at the time because if they hurt those children, they only deserve to starve. But he dragged them out and fed them bitter Devil remains.

That's when they knew he had changed along with them. They saw what the children had seen and they did not like it one bit.

But now he fed them again. And they were hiding again. And another child got hurt because of them. If a cruel God was gazing down at this pathetic rabbit, they had hoped He could end its miserable life at at that moment.

But the cruel God kept living up to His title.

Bunzo's footsteps grew closer, and little Hoppy's mewls amplified along with them. (Y/n) let go of their stinging face. 'She's alive.'

"My dear, you're not just going to leave our poor baby to die, are you?" he called right outside the door. "I can't bear to tear this cute little thing to pieces. But I will if I have to. If you really are so selfish as to break apart our precious family, it only makes sense for you to die alone."

Footsteps walked past the room and little Hoppy's whines slowly began to fade. (Y/n) laid there, their stomach becoming more and more twisted and sick. Then, they rose, and exited the room.

"WHERE ARE YOU?" Bunzo bellowed. In one hand, he held little Hoppy's paw, making her dangle upside down. In the other, he held a half of her ear, letting small droplets of blood trail right behind him.

(Y/n) bit their quivering lip before softly saying, "Right here."

Bunzo whirled around. Little Hoppy's blood spouted across the lower wall beside him. "My beloved (Y/n), there you are!" he said cheerfully, his harsh and sadistic personality quickly fading. "You had me so worried for a second!"

Lights were flickering above them, but (Y/n) could still get a full view of him now. The green of his overalls were completely overshadowed by old blood every inch of its fabric, with little hints of fresh gore peppering a few areas. His yellow fur was completely dulled out and gave into the ugly mixture of whatever disgusting horrors he granted upon his other victims. Dirt and grime plagued his long ears, and surprisingly, (Y/n) spotted a bite at the tip of his left ear. But was most shocking was the fact that his right eye was missing.

They jumped when they realized Bunzo had moved much closer to them. "Hmm, you've must've noticed my own changes, is that right?"

"Yes, your…your eye."

"Oh! That old thing. That employee actually put up quite a bit of a fight."

"S-So…that wound…it's recent?" They glanced down at Little Hoppy for a second.

Bunzo face melted into a warm, enamored smile. "You're worried about me! That makes m e so…so happy!" He suddenly pulled them into an embrace, earning a fearful gasp from them. "You….me….this little one…" Pulling away only slightly, he brought up little Hoppy and made (Y/n) hold her along with him, dropping her half ear. It splattered only the ground, slowly uncurling like a wilting flower. "We'll be perfect together!"

They bit their tongue to keep themselves from crying. "If I stay with you…if w-we both stay…You won't hurt us?"

Bunzo's smile dropped. "Hurt you? Oh no no no no no no no! My dear, everything I've done, I did for you! To help you realize you need me as much as I need you. And it worked! Your eyes tell me you want to stay with me forever and ever!"

That crazed smile returned once more as he pulled them into another embrace. Little Hoppy whimpered and buried her face into (Y/n)'s stomach. "We'll have so much fun every day! I can show you the shrine I made for you! A-And you can give me more pieces of you so I can worship every single part of you every day!" He just kept going, on and on and on. "We'll never be apart again. We'll die together. And if you ever die before me, I'll tear open your body and make myself fit inside you, then close you up so I can suffocate against your wonderful skin. And you'll do the same for me! Doesn't that sound perfect?" (Y/n) tensed up. Their legs were aching to run away again, but they couldn't let him harm about thread on her body. Maybe this cruel God was giving her another chance at redemption. Protect the child, no matter what. Even if it means living every day in a hell with no rising sun. Even if it means becoming a slave to someone's sick fantasies. Even if it means wasting away your own life. It's time to repent for your sins. "Yes," (Y/n) said, "perfect." . . . Days have gone by. Or weeks. Or months. (Y/n) didn't care anymore. They and little Hoppy sat a table, kneeling over ragged carpet. Echoes of droplets sang close and off in the distance as they splattered against the cave floor. Sometimes they wondered what color they were. Behind them, a candle light flickered amongst the few that decorated Bunzo's masterpiece. (Y/n) always tried to avoid looking at it, as it just made them sick to their stomach, but sometimes they had no choice but to gaze upon its repulsive glory. It was a giant shrine of corpses spelling out their name, bodies once belonging to other Bunzos and (Y/n)s. Their faces were painted in such horrid agony, their mouths forever drawn out in an eternal silent scream. Each of them had their eyes gouged out as they were forced in a position to have their handless arms reach towards the shrine's centerpiece: (Y/n)'s precious leg. It was dirty and smelled absolutely appalling. Every inch of it was covered in smears and hand prints made from blood, like someone had gotten a little too personal in order to worship it. Even though asking was the last thing they wanted to do, Bunzo went ahead and whispered everything he did to it to them every night, in terribly excruciating detail.... (Y/n) released the breath they were holding and turned toward little Hoppy. Her previously damaged ear was sewn back together, and both ears were flopped over behind her head. Though she held her usual wide, toothless smile, the life in her eyes had greatly diminished. (Y/n) scooted closer and gently made her head lean on their side. "We'll be okay," they whispered. Turns out, Bunzo somewhat kept his promise; when they were good, he didn't lay a finger on Hoppy. If he was satisfied for the day, he treated them a little too well in fact, always going off into rants about how much of a good father and husband he was to his family. Always pulling (Y/n) into sudden, deep passionate kisses that had them gasping for air while he was off in a daze. It was so hard not to throw up once they were given a chance to breathe again. If he wasn't satisfied... They took in as much musty air as they could when footsteps began to approach. Bunzo emerged into the candlelight, holding yet another plate of throbbing Devil organs. The room instantly became poisoned with iron, and they held in a gag and sat up straight. "Thank you for waiting, honey!" Bunzo said enthusiastically, setting the plate down on the table and wiping the red streak off his face. "It's like this place is getting bigger every day...but we're so lucky. That employee has a lot more friends than I thought!" "Really?" (Y/n) stared at their meal. Bleeding rivers coursed through each crevice. Little Hoppy cautiously approached the pile. "We won't have to worry about food for a while!" Bunzo looked down at the bunny, who recoiled as soon as she saw him staring at her. He smiled. "Go ahead, dear, eat up. Your parents want you to grow up big and strong!"

She didn't move. (Y/n) grabbed a handful of intestine and held it up toward little Hoppy. She sniffed their hand and nibbled the contents slowly. "Aww, how adorable!" Bunzo cried happily. He scooted next to them and firmly grabbed their shoulder, pulling them toward him. "You're absolutely perfect... I can never get enough of you. Everything you do is so precious, so..." His breath clung to a gasp and broke out into quick, manic giggles. (Y/n) pulled back a bit before he grabbed their face and pressed his lips against theirs. His grip was so strong, too strong, they used their free hand to try to pry his hands off of them, or at least get him to let go.

Thankfully, he did, and he moved back just enough to let them have some air. With his half-lidded eyes swimming in morbid longing, Bunzo stared deeply into theirs, studying every smidgen of movement, every sliver of their dulling soul, every thought they could possibly be thinking and making sure it was only of him. They opened their mouth, and Bunzo cut them off. "Which reminds me," he started, "I'd like another piece."

His victim's heart stopped, and after a long, quiet moment that was only broken by dripping drops, (Y/n) picked up little Hoppy and sat her on the table next to their meal. She stepped towards them, almost putting one of her paws on their shoulder until they stood up and left the room with Bunzo following close behind. "I know you used to dream about escaping this place one day, my dear (Y/n)," he said. They entered another room with a bed and a table with various sharpened tool. The overhead light still made the fluids glisten. "When I saw you scurry from place to place, trying to ascend from our home. The more I watched you, the more confused I became." They laid down on the bed, holding out the arm fused with (f/c) and bright yellow fur from their side. Their and Bunzo's fingers trembled in sync. Bunzo grabbed a butcher's knife and ran one of their fingers against the blade. "You'd get killed the second you step outside of this place. You could never become adjusted or find someone to trust...or to love. Thinking about that made me so, so, so sad." He stepped to the side and laid his completely yellow hand firmly against the surface. "You had the nerve to leave me, then run off to get yourself killed? It hurt me. It hurt me so much. So much-" and he heaved in a gasp as he raised the knife, "-All I could think about was-" He hammered it down on his finger. A revolting crunch bounced off the walls. "How COULD you? How DARE you?" The knife flew back up and slammed back down on his finger, over and over again with each word and unstable gasp. "There wasn't ANYTHING I wouldn't do for you, and you still LEFT? After all we've BEEN THROUGH?" And with one final, painful CRUNCH, his finger laid severed in a pool of red. Bunzo gasped heavily, staring up at the wall whilst trying to regain control of his quivering arms. "...And..." he finally spoke in a haggard whisper. "And....and...and...and and and and....and you came back to me." Bunzo turned around, smiling ever so widely. Blood dripped off his teeth with pride. "And...and...and...and we started a new life together. C-CatNap was kind enough to- to...to lend us this part of the cave as our home, he...h-he, he only asked us to praise th-the...the the the Prototype, i-i-in exchange...." He pushed himself off the table and wobbled over to (Y/n). They only watched in silence, biting their lip to keep them from crying again. "I-...I don't..." He stumbled over, quickly catching himself before he could fall. "...I don't...g-give a single sh...shit about whatever he wanted, I don't care about the Prototype! I-I can't st-stand doing his...his little favors f-for his joke of a god..."

Supporting himself with his arms on the sides of their head, Bunzo hovered over them. Disgusting gore dripped onto their face, and they couldn't look away from that perfervid, boiling, doting glare. "Y-Y-You're my only God... I'll prove, I'll prove it to you...! W-We'll exchange pieces of each other and truly, truly become inseparable!" He grabbed their only good hand and brought one of their fingers up to his lips, dousing it in his saliva sighing so contently. (Y/n) was whimpering. Their heart was pounding and they couldn't keep themselves still. "Just do it already," they choked out. "Get it over with." "Aw, don't be so scared, my little bunny..." Bunzo reached over and kissed the top of their forehead. "I'll make this quick." He raised the butcher knife, and (Y/n) squeezed their eyes shut. His voice whispered within the darkness before the burning, unimaginable pain.

"After all, you've been so good for me. I love you so much." ・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・��・・❥・・❥・ Hey guys! Like what ya saw? Well you can commission your own private piece now!! Read more about that here! Thanks so much for reading, and have a great day!~ 💜💜💜 So this was so much fun to make, and again, thank you to @zinnia1506 for requesting!! (But again, seriously guys, don't go actively looking for relationship like these in real life. A lot of people are saying "ugh I wish I could find a crazy yandere gf/bf" and I'm just like, no. No you don't. For one, it romanticizes people with obsessive behavior stemming from trauma and/or mental/personality disorders, and two, it will NOT be the relationship you want. Trust me, I know. So every time I'm gonna make a yandere fanfic, I'm gonna put that lil PSA in the beginning. Keep yourselves safe.

Okay! Also, you guys can now request CatNap because:

I've been researching about him and people have been saying that he was 7 years old by the time he turned into CatNap, and since this game takes place ten years later (as the game implies that the toys can age), he has aged ten years mentally and emotionally, technically making him 17-18 years old (Update on that: @atiz57 just informed me that he may be in fact older, as he was turned into CatNap at age 7, stayed in that body for four years before the Hour of Joy making him 11, and 10 years later when the game took place, he would be 21. I wanna say thanks to them for giving me that info!)

I kin and am hyperfixated on CatNap and I wanna write about him pLEASE GIMME SOMETHING THAT INVOLVES HIM/nf

For the most part, I ask you guys to keep it mostly platonic (because I still speculate on his true age from time to time), and I'd love to hear from you all!~ 💜 Next up, we have a requested DogDay fanfic! I'm so excited to write it and show you guys!!

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