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xetlynn · 11 days ago

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arcane imagines- caitlyn/violet

three's a crowd… isn’t it?

[arcane] [main page]

🔞⚠️CONTENT WARNING⚠️🔞: SMUT SMUT SMUT

Prompt: vi and Caitlyn loveee to tease you they’ve done it since you guys became friends. But now it’s really starting to bother you.

Contains: oral, multiple orgasms, strap, vibrators… etc…

“Wouldn’t she be so cute sandwiched between us?” Caitlyn teases, leaning into her girlfriend who was smirking at your flustered expression. You were currently at the mall with them, standing in the back of a Victoria’s Secret. Your eyes were wide at her words.

They constantly joked about you being their third and recently it was really starting to get to you. “Cait, we’re in public.” You whine, trying to shut them up. Violet slings an arm over your shoulder. “You know we’re only messin’ sweetheart.” She coos and you shoves her off of you. “That’s the point.” You argue.

You grumble, moving away from the couple that find amusement in your social anxiety. The two were your best friends, you three have done practically everything together. It was a joke with all of you guys to flirt. Then it turned into them teasing and messing with you. You can barely snap back at them. Always stunned by their words.

It’s also because you are genuinely starting to want what they’re talking about. It was bothering you and you didn’t know how to tell them. This hangout is only proving your infatuation.

Leaving Victoria’s Secret with a set that the couple convinced you to get so you could match with them. All three of you are carrying a little paper bag. “Oh, Spencers! Let’s go in there.” Violet points to the store that’s across the building on the little map. You stare at the screen before growing tense at the thought of going into the back of that store. You press your lips together, brewing a lie in your mind.

You didn’t even want to know the things they were going to tease you with in there. “ Um, I-I’m starting to not feel good, guys.” You hold your stomach, they glance over to you. Your face was flushed. They look at one another, worried. “Alright, let’s walk you to your car.” Caitlyn motions towards the exit doors and you put your hands up. “It’s okay! I can go by myself. I don’t want to ruin your time here.” You frown, taking a step back on your own. Violet’s forehead creases with confusement.

“[Name], you don’t feel good, why would we let you walk by yourself?” She questions you, taking the bag that was on your wrist. Holding it herself now. “Plus, this isn’t ruining our time. We can always walk back, love.” Cait adds. You genuinely just wanted to get away from them before you blurted out a nonsense sentence about your idiotic feelings for them. You also knew arguing with them was futile.

You let out a jagged breath and let them take you to your car. You keep a hand placed on your stomach, having to keep up the lie until they weren’t around anymore. Violet snaked a hand on the small of your back, as Caitlyn held your free hand on the other side. Your muscles were tense, you didn’t really have to lie about the fact that you feel like you’re going to throw up.

Vi sneakily pulls your keys out of your pocket without you noticing, unlocking your car and opening the driver’s side for you. You gawk at her, squinting your eyes. “Hey!” You snatch your keys from her pointer finger as she snickers at your reaction. Caitlyn shaking her head. “Drive safe, please text us when you get home.” She plants a kiss on your cheek. You quietly nod your head. Violet throws your bag in your car before giving you a small hug.

“Yeah, please.” She adds. “Okay, will do. I’m probably going to knock out right when I get there anyways.” You inform them, plopping down on the seat, legs still stick out of the vehicle. “Good, I love you. Again be safe!” Caitlyn wiggles her fingers. “I love you too, you as well, Vi.” You say before she can complain. Violet grins, pulling into her girlfriend's side. Watching you shut the car door, and drive off.

“We should get her some tums and food after a little more shopping.” The pink-haired girl looks up to her lover who has pursed out lips. “Definitely. Let’s go get that toy she was eyeing last time we were here too.” Cait winks, causing Vi to let out a loud laugh. “She’d have an aneurism.”

You set your keys down on your kitchen counter, alongside the lingerie set as you head to your bedroom. You felt like a dumbass for how embarrassed you get at their words that truly didn’t have any meaning behind them other than the fact that they’re jokes. Just jokes.

You flop down on your mattress, staring at your ceiling with a bored expression. Repeating all of their words in your head. Imagining them actually happening. Being sandwiched between your best friends. Taking turns kissing one another. Vi’s hands moving lower than just your back. Cait’s kisses she places on your cheek, traveling to your jaw.

Your thighs squeeze together at the thought. You shoot up. You can’t think about them so… disturbingly. Seeming like a perv. Which if we’re being honest you kind of were one. You needed to distract yourself. Stop thinking about them. You go to your phone, also remembering to text them that you got home safely before swiping away from their group chat and going to the little red app with the white flame right in the middle of it.

There’s this girl you’ve been chatting with, only sex in mind. That’s all it is. She offered it and you hesitated, not knowing if you should even after all the dirty talk the two of you have done but at this moment it’s all you could think about. You needed it.

The exact moment the thirsty little idea is sent to this stranger online a bubble with three floating dots shows up immediately. Your heart races but the wetness in between your thighs is thinking for you. Your brain is fogged over with concupiscence. And she would be here in twenty minutes.

You place your phone down, rushing to your room to change. You dig through your underwear drawer, not knowing what to wear. Your head goes up as an imaginary light bulb goes off. The lingerie. You scurry into your kitchen, plucking the little bag off of the counter.

You lived alone so you threw your clothes off right there in the dining area. Quickly changing into the pink and blue lace set that was covered in tiny little bows. You adjust it, bending down to grab your clothes and throwing them in your bathroom. As you do so you check yourself out in the mirror. Vi and Caitlyn honestly possess superior taste in clothing.

With a small smile you grab your satin bathrobe, throwing it over the beautiful set. Your nerves were at its peak as you waited for this girl to show up. Only talking for three weeks, using her for whenever you were horny.

A knock at the door catches you off guard as you thought she still had five more minutes until she got to your home. You open the door without thinking, your jaw slacks open to the sight of your two best friends holding a bag of chinese food and something else unknown in another bag. You held your robe shut. “Looks like you were expecting someone?” Caitlyn tilts her head to the side as Violet pushes in. “Uh,” you glance over her head to see a sleek black charger speeding out of your driveway. The same black car that the girl you’ve been speaking to has in her photos.

Your face drops, letting the blue-haired girl come in.

“If you had a hook-up you could’ve told us, sweetheart. Not lie about being sick.” Violet laughs, inviting herself on your couch, turning on the tv. You shut the front door, leaning your head on it in embarrassment. “Gonna eat with us?” Caitlyn asks, looking over to your hunched figure.

“What are you guys doing?” You question in a quiet tone, almost irritated. God knows what they said to the girl. “Hm? We’re eating the food we had bought for our friend we were told was sick. A friend that said she didn’t feel good enough to stay at the mall with us.” Vi opens the white styrofoam box, showing your favorite.

You stared at them, blinking slowly. “Why’d you lie, darling? We would’ve understood. You have needs. I mean we could’ve arranged something to meet those needs.” Caitlyn leans back on the cushion, crossing her leg over the other. “That.” You point to her.

“That is why I left. Why I lied- actually I didn’t even really lie! I didn’t leave to hook up with her!” You exclaimed angrily, pacing back and forth. “I left because of those stupid… irritating comments you two make that I can never tell if they’re real or just making fun of me!” You breathe out, your face heating up as you explode.

“Do you guys know how belittling they are? Especially because they actually turn me on? I’m left to wonder if my best friends actually want to fuck me and it makes me feel like I’m insane!” You speak with your hands flailing in the air, now standing in front of your coffee table, pointing between the two of them. Not even seeing your robe fly open. Exposing yourself to them.

Their eyes wander down your figure, back to your face that was seething with anger. “Didn’t know we left you hot like that, sweetheart.” Violet says with a smirk ghosting her lips as she leans forward, listening to your rant. Caitlyn hummed in agreement, biting her bottom lip. “Oh please, I’m sure you two do it on purpose. To fuck with me.” You grunt, rolling your eyes. “And if we did? What does that say about us?” Caitlyn asks.

“Do you want to fuck me?” You cross your arms, ignoring her questions. “What do you think?” You throw your head back, groaning in frustration. “Just answer me!” You cry out.

“Darling we want more than just to fuck you.” Caitlyn chuckles, standing up and walking towards you. You gape up to her. You weren’t expecting such a… output answer. Her hands grab onto the top of your robe, feeling the fabric between her fingers. Violet watches the scene before her. Rubbing her lips together. “Wha-”

“Shh,” She places a finger on your lips. “You had your turn to speak, now it’s ours.” She tells you, looking over to her girlfriend who takes that as her cue to stand up. Coming up behind you. Her hands massaging your shoulders. “[Name], those comments. Were hints. Hints that clearly weren’t getting through your thick skull.” Vi taps your head and you whimper out. “We’ve thought about it for a while. How we both long for you.” Caitlyn forces you to look back to her, grabbing your jaw. “So, you could say yes. We do want to fuck you. But we want more than that.” She whispers into your ear, her grip never loosening against your skin.

“What do you say, love? Do you want that too?” She asks, her lips tickling over your neck. Your thighs pushing together, as your core begged- no screamed for some sort of friction. “Ah- yes.” You squeak, feeling Violet’s hands on your hips, squeezing then roaming to other places.

“Yes what, sweetheart?” Violet chaffs, her pupils dilated as she admired both women up against each other. “I want it too.” You pout, glancing back to her with the hand still squishing your cheeks. “Kiss her, Vi.” Caitlyn orders in a simple manner. “Don’t have to tell me twice.” She murmurs before roughly locking her lips with your own.

Straining your neck as you kiss the girl behind you, leaning your head back to do so. Caitlyn takes her sweater off as the two of you are occupied with one another. Undressing herself to her underwear.

Violet peeks over to her girlfriend and smirks into your mouth, unlocking only to turn you around to face her now. “Wearing our matching set to fuck someone else?” Vi cocks her head to the side and you look down, biting your lip. “Yeah… sorry.” You huff, mentally cursing at yourself for that one. “Eh, you’re ours now so who cares.” Violet’s hand goes to the nap of your neck, pushing you into another kiss.

You feel another pair of hands grasp onto your hips, pulling your behind into Caitlyn’s groin. You gasp into Vi, melting in the other girl's touch. “Want us to fuck you in front of the window, pretty one? Or take it to the bedroom… get more comfortable?” Caitlyn musters out, feeling you against her. Wanting- needing more of you.

Vi withdraws so that you can answer the important question. “Bedroom.” You exhale, clinging onto Violet to catch your breath. “I have a little surprise for you when we get there~” Caitlyn sings, letting you go. Your eyebrows knit together, giving her a curious look. “You’ll see.” She waves.

You lead the way to your bedroom, Caitlyn grabbing the plastic bag you saw from before when they first got her. Violet follows right behind you. Grabbing at you numerous times. “You’re the only one dressed.” You point it out to her. “Wanna undress me then?” She plants a chaste kiss on your lips, pushing you down on your bed as she does so.

You giggle, nodding your head and getting on your knees. Caitlyn walks into the bedroom to you taking Violet’s shirt clean off.

“Oh, I could get used to coming home to this…” She says, thinking aloud. The two of you turn to her with smiles adorning your lips. “Are you guys serious? Like wanting me to be a part of your relationship?” You nervously ask, flickering between the two of them. “Sweetheart, how much more obvious can we make it?” Violet sighs out, peeling your robe off of your shoulders.

“Seriously, want us to make a sign to ask you?” Caitlyn climbs into the bed beside you. “You could just… ask me. Like normal people would.” You say in a ‘duh’ like tone.

“I think our way is a little more fun, darling.” Caitlyn nips at your shoulder getting behind you like she was while in the living room. “Helping” you take Vi’s clothes off. Really she was only making it more difficult. Her digits dancing down your front. Violet’s words of encouragement boring into your ears. “Almost there, just gotta get that belt off, princess.” She pets your face.

“Doing so good, you almost got it.” Praising you for finally getting the belt unclasped. Caitlyn grinding against your ass as her fingers played with your lacey panties. Her mouth attacks your skin. “I- hah, Vi.” You puff out, leaning back against Cait as you try to pull the belt out of the pant loops. “M right here, sweetheart.” She reminds you.

“I- can’t get t’.” You jut out your bottom lip. “Yes you can, try a little harder.” She bucks her hips forward watching you tug and tug. Caitlyn peers at you struggling with one eye open.

Deciding to make it even more strenuous for you, sneaking through your panties. Her finger tip dipping in between your soaked folds. You jerk forward from the sudden contact. “Caitlyn…” You whine, your hand going to grab at her wrist but Vi smacks it away. “You haven’t gotten me undressed, hun.” She prompts. You look up at her with pleading eyes as her girlfriend is currently exploring your delicate part.

She doubles down, giving you a stern guise. Your face contorts, your head going down as you bite down a moan. Roughly tugging the belt from her pants, eventually getting it. Violet cheers for you, Caitlyn even mumbling a small congratulations without stopping her own movements on you.

You eagerly pull the girl's pants down, showcasing her boyshorts that were tight and left little to no imagination. “I want in on the fun now.” She pouts, nudging Caitlyn’s head away from you. She glares instantaneously up at the pink-haired woman. “Bite me.” Caitlyn spits out, her fingers coming out from your underwear, grabbing at your neck.

Your fluids trailing over your flesh. “C’mon, cupcake, move it.” Violet fusses like a child.

“Ugh, so impatient.” Caitlyn throws her head back in annoyance, moving back so you can get further into the bed to allow Vi to join.

“So mean, for no reason.” Violet complains. “What a big baby.” Cait rolls her eyes, folding her arms. You chuckle at the both of them, sitting back against your pillows. “You love me.” Violet pulls her into a passionate kiss. You gawk at the two of them as they make out right in front of you.

Your own hand traveling down to your underwear, touching yourself through the layer of lace before moving the fabric over. Legs spread as you play with your bud, juices splashing that earn attention from the girls. You don’t even stop, letting out little pants as your finger circles the nerve.

“Touching yourself so shamelessly to us?” Caitlyn crawls over to you, sitting herself between your legs. Violet stays put but observes nonetheless.

“Mhm, turn me on like no other.” You give her a lopsided grin, your chest heaving from the pleasure you give yourself. “I’m jealous of your own fingers.” She admits, her eyes not leaving the beautiful view gifted upon her. “Replace them, then.” You boldly tell her, Catilyn was quick to respond to that. Without warning she attaches to your drenched pussy.

Her tongue swirls around your folds, operating toward your clit. You grip onto your sheets, your eyes meeting with Vi who’s bewildered at the two of you.

“C’mere…” eliciting a moan from your mouth, reaching forward to the girl. She slowly listens, going over to you. You go to lift your torso to kiss her but Caitlyn shoves you back down onto the pillows. Speaking something into your cunt, the vibrations sending shock waves through you.

“Sh-shit!” You mewl, your stomach tightening and you grab onto Vi’s arm. “K-kiss me please!” You beg, not even able to open your eyes as Caitlyn’s lips latch onto your folds, having a field day with your pretty cunt. Violet doesn’t even let a second pass as she gives you what you want. Your noises are now muffled by her.

Caitlyn now recedes, spitting onto your hole that begins to clench down on nothing. She snickers, her thumb swiping down your slit before teasing that tensed ring of muscle that just sucked her in. “Mm, so nasty~” She mutters, her lips glistening from your liquid. Only to be drowned back in it once she reattaches herself. Using her middle and ring fingers to leisurely plunge themselves inside of your gummy walls.

You inhale sharply, your thighs threatening to compress against the blue-haired woman who works on your cunt skillfully. Violet nips at your bottom lip, sucking on it. Your eyes open, looking at her close-eyed face that’s right up against your own. Breathing raggedly through her nose as she focuses on your mouth. Her eyebrows furrowing then unforrowing repetitively.

“Tastes ‘s sweet.” Caitlyn maunders in joy, biting at your nub, her fingers thrusting in and out of you. You have to push Vi away for a moment, feeling yourself approaching combustion. “I- hah- hah, Vvv…” You can’t even get your words out, so dumbified by the girl’s actions against you. “I think she’s about to cum, cupcake.” Violet chuckles, she caresses Caitlyn’s hair, moving it out of her face, out of the way so she can get the job done even quicker.

Your nails dig into Vi’s forearm, definitely leaving little crescent indents. “F-fuck!” You cry out, rolling your pelvis up and down against Caitlyn’s unrelenting muzzle.

Her fingers curl and meet that mushy spot, letting your movements take control to get you to your high. “Taking it so perfectly, princess.” Violet rubs your knee, still allowing you to grip onto her for support.

The spurts and splashes from your pussy getting louder and louder. Your toes crimping. “C-cummingh~!” You grit your teeth, your chest pushing forwards as your cunt creams all over Caitlyn’s fingers that continuously fuck in and out of you. Her lips sucking on your little bud sending you over the edge. A loud squeal exiting out of you. You lay backwards onto the pillows, whimpering, legs shaking as Caitlyn doesn’t retreat away from you. Only taking her fingers out and lifting them upwards towards Vi. “Try her, she’s too good~” She smiles, kitten licking your sensitive clit.

Violet sits flat on her ass, taking her girlfriends fingers, putting them on her tongue.

“Too much, Cait! Too much!” You attempt to push her away but she’s like a boulder, sticking in place as she cleans up the mess you made. That she caused. Ignoring your small pleads. Violet slurps the juices off of Caitlyn’s digits. You watch with a pained expression. Eyes almost rolling to the back of your head.

“You’re so greedy.” Violet tells Caitlyn who hums in agreement. “You would be too.” She retorts, finally giving your poor pussy a break. You sigh in relief, chest moving up and down rapidly. “Let’s see, is she really as good as you say? The juices on your fingers weren’t enough for me to truly know.” She replaces Caitlyn from being in between your thighs and you start to whine, trying to close your legs to stop what was coming. “Ah, ah, ah… bad girl.” Violet tuts, forcing them back open. Caitlyn scrunches her nose, smiling down at you.

Violet kisses the flush of your thighs, trailing down to your slick core. You were a mess, grabbing at her hair, attempting to pull her away from you.

You hear the crinkling of a plastic back and you lift your head to look over the girl currently licking at you. Getting a taste. Caitlyn’s pulling multiple things out of a black bag from spencers and your eyes widened, now alarmed at what they could have gotten.

Your gaze was hazy from Violet still latched onto you, trying to focus on what Caitlyn was taking out of boxes. Tears welding in your eyes, the pleasure was too much. “Gonna get these cleaned.” At least that’s what you think you hear as Caitlyn leaves the bedroom. The sloppy noises of Violet loudly eating you out like she was a starved woman.

She practically is as the Chinese food was still uneaten out in the living room.

“Vi, pl-please! Ive m-me a second!” You yawp, squirming underneath her with ragged breaths. “You’re addictive, sweetheart. I can’t.” She replies, curtly returning to ambushing your tender, now rather fragile drenched pussy. The smell of your arousal filled the room.

Violet was different from Caitlyn, sloppier, more movement. Slightly aggressive as her head moved against you. Keeping your spread with her fingers. Caitlyn was gentle in the sense of not thrashing around like a crazed-woman. Speaking of who, she walks back into the room with a black harness and right on her crotch is a thick dark blue swirled with hints of pink dildo. Your face dropped in… fear?

She grins, a tongue peaking through her teeth. She’s rubbing lube over it as she takes small steps to the bed. You then notice another object in her other hand. A beginners bullet vibrator that was decored in purple with white moons and stars littered all over it. It was something you joked about getting months ago while at the mall on your birthday.

Caitlyn presses the button on the bottom, the sound hitting Violet’s ears. She smirks, pulling away from your cunt. Cait hands her the toy. “Mm, wait! Wait!” You sit up quickly. “Wait!” You stick a hand out, covering yourself.

The two sit patiently, waiting like you said to. “Wh-what about you two? Don’t you two want to cum?” You try to switch the attention away from you, knowing you were done for unless you stopped it. They glance over at each other.

“Today isn’t really about us, love.” Caitlyn shrugs her shoulders. “Yeah, just relax and take it like a good sweetheart.” Violet pulls you into a kiss, you moan against her.

“Unless it’s too much for you…” Cait butts in, ending the kiss. You contemplate for a moment. Your pussy throbbing answers for you. “It’s not too much…” You murmur. “Really because you were just cryin-”

You smack a hand over Violet’s mouth. “I’m fine. It’s not too much.” You swear, causing the two to laugh at your mechanisms. “If it does, just say the words… Lemon-Lime.” Caitlyn tells you, stroking her faux cock. You nod your head then you feel wetness spread across the palm of your hand, you retreat away from Violet’s mouth in disgust. “Ew, Vi.” You give her a look. “Ew? My tongue was just in your mouth and pussy.” She retaliates, you give her a ‘so’ expression in response.

“You two are children.” Caitlyn breathes out her nose, standing back up from the bed. “Violet sit behind [Name].” She demands, clipping her bra off. “What?” Violet asks, confused. “Just do it.” Caitlyn snaps.

“Okay, okay… bossy~” Violet stands up on the mattress and you scoot forward allowing room for the pink-haired girl. She plops down and her legs go on either side of your body. As you observe the other girl in front of you, gawking at her chest. And as you aren’t paying attention, Vi unclasps your own bra. It falls off your arms and you purse your lips. Looking back to her. “You could’ve asked.” You tell her. “Where’s the fun in that?” She queries.

“Knock it off.” Caitlyn stops yet another argument from the both of you. Your backs are straightening at her words. “Yes, ma’am.” You salute, Violet following suit. She rolls her eyes, finally climbing back onto the bed and in her rightful spot between your legs like beforehand. “These will only get in the way.” She grunts, peeling your underwear off with the help of you lifting your butt up for her.

“You soaked the bed.” She comments with a smug smile. “Do we turn you on that badly?” She skims over your thighs, petting back and forth. “Mhm.” You nod your head meekly.

Violet’s empty hand goes to your breasts, taking turns fondling each one. Caitlyn hovers over you, playing with the dark-colored dildo, making sure the lube was perfectly lathered on it. Your eyes nervily watched her do so. Violet subconsciously put the vibrator against your stomach as she held onto the object along with you.

Caitlyn then clicks something on the bottom of the dildo and you see it begin to start vibrating as well. Your eyes widen. “Nervous, pretty one?” She asks, holding onto your knee and you shake your head. “N-no.” Your voice defies you. Her hand grips the rubber dick, aligning against your achy hole.

Violet forces her attentiveness towards the scene, mouth open in excitement. The quivering of the object hits you first, the vibrations sloshing against your juices. Caitlyn’s fake cock sheathing inside you all at once. Earning a ripe yelp from you. “Mhm, tell me how it feels, darling.” She tells you, squishing the cheeks of your face as she thrusts slowly in and out of you. “Good, sho good, Cait!” You snivel, leaning back against Violet who holds you.

“Gonna fuck you so good you can’t think of anything other than this fake cock I’m giving you.” She declares confidently, forcing your legs to spread wider, entering inside you deeper. “Fuuu-ck!” Your head rests over Violet’s shoulder and between her neck. “N-no, look at me.” Caitlyn forces your face back to her way. You groan, drooling over her hand that mushes your lips out. “Look at me fucking you.” She grits, her pelvis pounding against your own.

Hands roamed all over you from behind, Violet palming your breasts, dropping the vibrator letting it rest on your stomach as she pinches your nipple. Making out with your neck, leaving marks scattered on you.

Caitlyn sees the little bullet, picking it up and placing it over your delicate bud. “Ohmygod!” You scream, your walls clenching down on her cock. The vibrations fight against each other and you actually begin to cry at the feeling.

“You see how she fucks that little hole, it’s all hers, huh?” Violet says, pointing down at the rough fuck you’re getting. You nod your head weakly, your tits bouncing at every thrust into you. “I asked a question.” She smacks your breast and you whimper. Caitlyn lets go of your face, grabbing one of your legs and putting it against your chest.

“Y-yes, I see it! Fuck! R-right there rrriight there!” You huff, grab onto your own lifted leg so that Caitlyn can fully focus on your pussy. “Fuckfuckfuckfuck!!” You sob, looking back to Violet who immediately traps you into a messy kiss. Caitlyn gets harsher to make it harder for you to make out with Vi.

“Vi, in a moment turn her around. I want her to eat you out.” Caitlyn ruts into you as she speaks. The vibration was also bringing her close to an orgasm as she knows you were getting to one as well. Vi only gives the girl a thumbs up as she was fixed upon you.

The girl’s tempo accelerates, rubbing the bullet up, down and around on your clit. “I- ffffuuu…” You couldn’t even get the words out as you release, juices squirting, making a mess on Caitlyn’s pelvis. Soaking the fabric of the strap. “Did you just squirt, darling?” Her voice was barely audible to your ears as you rode out your high. Almost biting down on Vi a little too hard. Drawing blood to her bottom lip. You pull back letting out a mix of random babbles. Apologizing.

Violet’s tongue swipes against the blood, feeling where you bit her. Amused by it.

“Oh shit-” Caitlyn doubles over, her torso trembling at her own orgasm, grabbing onto your chest as she cums. Filling you deeper so that the dildo hits the right spot against her clit. Vi pouts. “When will that be me?” She says, disappointed. “Sh-shut up.” Caitlyn mutters, glaring up at the girl as she turns off both vibrators.

Carefully she withdraws from your pussy, making a little pop noise as the tip comes out. So lewd.

“Alright, on your stomach, little one.” Cait smacks your cunt, a small mewl leaving your mouth. “Okayyy.” You tiredly sigh, getting up to your knees with the help of pushing off of Vi. “How do you think she eats? Messy? Clean? Mix of both?” Violet asks Caitlyn as she takes off her underwear, laying back on the pillows. “Let me know while she does it, yeah?” Cait inquires, gifting your ass with a swift slap.

You were now right in front of Vi’s cunt that glistened, soaked from being so neglected. Your eyes wander, taking in everything. Mesmerized. Your ass was poked up in the air, chest almost hitting the bed as your back arched beautifully. Your forearms rested underneath Vi’s thighs, touching against her ass. “So pretty down there.” She compliments, pulling the hair out of your eyes as you look up at her for a split second.

“Ready for me again, darling?” Caitlyn asks, her hands resting on your ass. “Yes,” you wiggle your ass, she sneers. Kneading the flesh before her as the fraudulent member re-enters, inch by inch.

You then hide your face in Violet’s muff, tongue flattened over her folds. Vigorously you begin to eat out your best friend, slurping up her cunt as Caitlyn pistons in and out of you.

“Oh shit, cupcake, she’s g-ood with th-that mouth of hers.” Violet stretches out her toes, feeling your lengthy tongue delving and swirling inside of her. “Really? I wouldn’t expect less from such perfection.” Caitlyn grabs her hair, moving it over to her shoulder as she fucks into you at a flawless stride.

“Ye-ah! Hah! Same!” Vi throws her head back on the large feather pillows. You take pride in her words, going in overtime to munch on her pussy. Caitlyn’s momentum, her thrusts pushing you into Vi heartily. “I’m gonna cum if she keeps this up!” Vi’s hand goes to your hair instantaneously. Keeping your head as still as possible on her cunt. Entrapping you, not even letting you up to breathe.

The bump of your nose tickling her nub, her liquid coaxing it. With each forceful plunge into you by Caitlyn you let out a loud moan. Sending shivers down Violet’s back at the feeling. Her fingers slowly maneuvering through your hair. Giving it a tug once she feels herself getting closer to the edge.

“Fuck her like that, f-fuck her hard.” Vi tells Caitlyn, gripping onto your hair simultaneously. “Feels good for you?” Cait teases, ramming into. Repeatedly leaving quick smacks to your ass cheeks. Creating red marks along with little welts. “Mhm, almost there.” She nods her head, having to hold onto your bed frame from behind her head so she doesn’t yank your hair too tremendously.

Your jaw was onset to lock so your tongue proceeded to a spirited, lively speed. Flicking up and down her clit. Vi’s legs begin to shudder, indicating that she's going to cum soon. “Fucking hell, sweetheart! Got a quick tongue on you.” And she’s still able to be a jokester. You roll your eyes, your teeth pinching down on the nub before your lips go around it. Sucking while also circulating your tongue.

“There! There!!!” Violet’s abs flexing as her release hits her like a truck. Her hips fuck into your mouth as you let her ride her face. “Got to cum too?” Caitlyn puffs with a smile, watching her girlfriend violate your face with a fucked-out expression. “Mhmmm~” Vi drops her hips down and you pant, lifting your torso up as you were still getting thrusted into. “You did so good, you eat like a pro.” Vi, sits up to pull you into a kiss. “Thank you.” You sheepishly say, having a hard time keeping your eyes open. “Gonna cum again?”

“Almost, go hard, please.” You plead, leaning your head down on Vi’s abdomen.

Your fingers trailing up and down her muscles.

She admires you, purposely flexing them just for you. You deserve it for the amount of orgasms you’ve given them. About to gift another. “Harder? You sure, love?” Caitlyn double checks, her hands going to your hips to get ready. “Yesh, need it.” You nod your head, your cheek squished against Vi’s stomach.

“Okay,” Cait then rutting into you at a harsher momentum. Pap, pap, paps of her skin hitting against your ass echoed in the room. Her hand snakes around you, her fingers dancing against your clit. Rubbing you fastly. Violet holds your hand as you mewl and moan. Your drool and saliva pooling at her stomach.

Caitlyn sweats as she humps into you, clawing at your skin with one hand. The other still working on your plump, raw clit. “Caitlynnn~” You sing out. “Right here, darling.” She pants.

“I f-feel iittt.” Your back starts to hunch upwards but Caitlyn pushes it back into an arch. The sound of the dummy cock fucking in out of your ooey pussy only grows louder. Your juices spilling around it.

“Ha-hereee!” You fuck your ass back onto Caitlyn, meeting her hips. She stops doing the work, letting you fuck yourself on her. Kneading your doughy ass, patting it a few times. “Take it all, love. Take what’s yours.” She coos.

Your body jerks from the orgasm, as it comes to a stop you lay there restlessly. “Shit.” You whine.

Caitlyn goes to exit from your hole but you grab onto her wrist, keeping her in place. “Hold on, please.” You look up at her with half-lidded eyes. She smiles, leaning down and kissing your back. “Of course, just tell me when.” She rubs your butt soothingly. “You did really well, love.” She pecks your skin all over.

Violet pets your hair, agreeing. “I have such two pretty, perfect girlfriends.” She mutters and now you're met with both pairs of eyes laying on you. Your face flushes. “Two?” You lift your head up. “Is that alright?” Vi cocks her head to the side, the hands on your ass stop their movements. “I- Yeah, of course.” You nod your head with a laugh.

Your pussy clenching down on the faux dick, reminding you that it was still in there. You then make a face. “Okay, slowly- I mean SLOWLY get out of me.” You say to Caitlyn, who listens.

Once it’s fully unsheathed you make a disgusted expression, feeling your cum drip out of you and down your thighs. “So pretty.” Caitlyn swipes at the liquid with two fingers, bringing it up to her mouth and licking it. Vi perks up. “Lemme try.” She sticks her hand forward and Caitlyn gets more, wiping it onto her girlfriend’s.

“You guys are so weird.” You scrunch your nose. Closing your eyes, tired.

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irawhiti · 1 year ago

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while everyone's rightfully talking about oppenheimer and its flaws regarding the erasure of japanese and native american voices regarding nuclear testing and detonations, i'd like to bring up the fact that pacific islanders have also been severely impacted by nuclear testing under the pacific proving grounds, a name given by the US to a number of sites in the pacific that were designated for testing nuclear weapons after the second world war, at least 318 of which were dropped on our ancestral homes and people. i would like if more people talked about this.

important sections are bolded for ease of reading. i would appreciate this being reblogged since it's a bit alarming how few people know about this.

in 1946, the indigenous peoples of pikinni (the bikini atoll) were forcibly relocated off of their islands so that nuclear tests could be run on the atoll. at least 23 nuclear bombs were detonated on this inhabited island chain, including 20 hydrogen bombs. many pasifika were irreversibly irradiated, all of them were starved during multiple forced relocations, and the island chain is still unsafe to live on despite multiple cleanup attempts. there are several craters visible from space that were left on the atoll from nuclear testing.

the forced relocation was to several different small and previously uninhabited islands over several decades, none of which were able to sustain traditional lifestyles which directly lead to further starvation and loss of culture and identity. there is a reason that pacific islanders choose specific islands to inhabit including access to fresh water, food, shelter, cloth and fibre, climate, etc. and obviously none of these reasons were taken into account during the displacements.

200 pikinni were eventually moved back to the atoll in the 1970s but dangerous levels of strontium-90 were found in drinking water in 1978 and the inhabitants were found to have abnormally high levels of caesium-137 in their bodies.

i'm going to put the rest of this post under a readmore to improve the chances of this being reblogged by the general public. i would recommend you read the entirety of the post since it really isn't long and goes into detail about, say, entire islands being fully, utterly destroyed. like, wiped off of the map. without exaggeration, entire islands were disintegrated.

as i just mentioned, ānewetak (the eniwetok atoll) was bombed so violently that an entire island, āllokļap, was permanently and completely destroyed. an entire island. it's just GONE. the world's first hydrogen bomb was tested on this island. the crater is visibly larger than any of the islands next to it, more than a mile in diameter and roughly fifteen storeys deep. the hydrogen bomb released roughly 700 times the energy released during the bombing of hiroshima. this would, of course, be later outdone by other hydrogen bombs dropped on the pacific, reaching over 1000 times the energy released.

one attempt to clean up the waste on ānewetak was the construction of a large ~380ft dome, colloquially known as the tomb, on runit island. the island has been essentially turned into a nuclear waste dump where several other islands of ānewetak have moved irradiated soil to and, due to climate change, rising seawater is beginning to seep into the dome, causing nuclear waste to leak out. along with this, if a large typhoon were to hit the dome, there would be a catastrophic failure followed by a leak of nuclear waste into the surrounding land, drinking water, and ocean. the tomb was built haphazardly and quickly to cut costs.

hey, though, there's a plus side! the water in the lagoon and the soil surrounding the tomb is far more radioactive than the currently contained radioactive waste. a typhoon wouldn't cause (much) worse irradiation than the locals and ocean already currently experience, anyway! it's already gone to shit! and who cares, right, the only ""concern"" is that it will just further poison the drinking water of the locals with radioactive materials. this can just be handwaved off as a nonissue, i guess. /s

at least 36 bombs were detonated in the general vicinity of kiritimati (christmas island) and johnson atoll. while johnson atoll has seemingly never been inhabited by polynesians, kiritimati was used intermittently by polynesians (and later on, micronesians) for several hundred years. many islands in the pacific were inhabited seasonally and likewise many pacific islanders should be classified as nomadic but it has always been convenient for the goal of white supremacy and imperalism to claim that semi-inhabited areas are completely uninhabited, claimable pieces of terra nullius.

regardless of the current lack of inhabitants on these islands, the nuclear detonations have caused widespread ecological damage to otherwise delicate island ecosystems and have further spread nuclear fallout across the entirety of the pacific ocean.

while the marshall islands, micronesia, and the surrounding areas of melanesia and polynesia were (and still are) by far the worst affected by these atrocities, the entirety of the pacific has been irradiated to some extent due to ocean/wind currents freely spreading nuclear fallout through the water and air. all in all, at least 318 nuclear bombs were detonated across the pacific. i say "at least" because these are just the events that have been declassified and frankly? i wouldn't be shocked to find out they didn't stop there.

please don't leave the atomic destruction of the pacific out of this conversation. we've been displaced, irradiated, murdered, poisoned, and otherwise mass exterminated by nuclear testing on purpose and we are still suffering because of it. many of us have radiation poisoning, many of us have no safe ancestral home anymore. i cannot fucking state this enough, ISLANDS WERE DISINTEGRATED INTO NONEXISTENCE.

look, this isn't blaming people for not talking about us or knowing the extent of these issues, but it's... insidiously ironic that i haven't seen a single post that even mentions pacific islanders in a conversation about indigenous voices/voices of colour being ignored when it comes to nuclear tests and the devastation they've caused.

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reignpage · 1 month ago

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First Friend

Your daughter has an imaginary friend.

The doctors, all six of them, explained that it’s normal for toddlers to have an over-active imagination, in fact, it’s a good sign. She must be really smart. And when the top paediatricians in the country tell you all is well, who are you to argue?

‘She’s only four, she’ll grow out of it,’ your mother-in-law says.

And you’re inclined to believe her; she’s done this before, after all.

Warm and welcoming, you never turn her away when she shows up at your door unannounced multiple times a week with various gifts: cookies, banana bread, baby clothes, groceries, and tonight, a bottle of wine.

‘How are you?’ Her eyes are full of worry, and right as you open your mouth, she clarifies, ‘How are you really?’

You tell her you’re fine, that your daughter’s a handful and she’s the best distraction around. The woman doesn’t seem to believe you, instead she wordlessly pours you another glass, and you watch the red liquid swirl as if entranced.

She’s been the greatest support you could ever have; radiating comfort, grace, and kindness, you know she’ll be a much better role model for your daughter than you will ever be, because no matter how hard you try, you can’t ever seem to replicate that patient smile she always has.

‘My son loved you very much.’

You gulp the blood-red liquid down.

Most times she doesn’t dare mention him, and you assume it was because it was just as painful for her as it is for you, but now you know it’s because she’s walking on eggshells, worried you will snap.

It’s laughable, really. A woman with a variety of health problems, fighting a losing battle with time as evidenced by the wrinkles that map her face, is worried about you. She should worry about herself, if she knows what’s good for her.

Guilt starts to gnaw at you; you shouldn’t think about her like that. She’s been nothing but kind, picking up the pieces that you’ve left to fester, and taking charge every time you’ve stumbled.

She may be your greatest supporter.

She’s also the most painful reminder of what you stand to lose as a mother.

Looser and calmer, you feel your inhibitions slip with every glass. your mind starts to wander, about a past life, and a man long gone, and everything that could have been. This always happened at night, when your daughter’s asleep, all the chores are done, and all that’s left to do is to watch the lights flicker in silence.

‘I’m worried the imaginary friend’s a cause of, I don’t know, trauma or something.’

You hadn’t meant to say that.

You aren’t supposed to say that.

She sighs.

‘She’s too young to remember.’

That isn’t true, you almost say, but you don’t. She wouldn’t be able to bear it — her hands are shaking with both the burn of the loss and the coldness of the time ticking away in the distance. It’s likely she believes that as much as you do, maybe she repeats that mantra as often as she can, the way you do, and maybe she needs to believe in that, in something, to ease the sorrow.

You don’t get that relief.

Because you know your daughter has been affected by the sudden loss. Psychologically tainted. The doctors disagree but you’re a mother, you know these things.

Otherwise, how can it be possible that she calls her imaginary friend something you’ve never taught her, something she never got to learn?

‘Dada Kenny.’

#jjk x reader #jjk angst #jjk drabble #jjk oneshot #nanami x reader #nanami angst #nanami drabble #nanami oneshot

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thedreamlessnights · 8 months ago

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Since requests are open, here's my suggestion: I recently revisited my old mythology book and found one of the myths about aphrodite bathing in a lake and blinds some pervs that sneaked up to watch her. Now, the reader might not have the powers of a goddess but you know what she does have? A dagger-happy vampire boyfriend more than willing to shank unwanted peeping toms (in his defense, he actually asked if he could be there, so no harm done here). Idk, I just like the idea of the reader having scary dog privileges and Astarion not minding looking menacing/scary while doing so

Thank you so, so much for this request, anon. It's an absolutely incredible concept, and it fits Astarion so well! I had such a fun time writing it, and I really hope you enjoy the result!

For Your Eyes Only

Astarion x F!Reader - NSFW

Content warnings: Mentions of brief, non-consensual voyeurism. Somewhat graphic violence, as well as mentions of blood, degrading terms, and the description of an injury and death. Explicit sexual content, including: oral sex (receiving), penetrative sex, fingering, multiple orgasms, blood drinking, and ear play. Tags: Takes place post-Cazador, some point in Act 3. Includes mild spoilers. Established relationship, a bit of emotional hurt/comfort, and tender smut.

Word Count: 5.8k

After the darkness and chill of the Shadowlands, the heat in the city feels suffocating.

You missed the warmth dearly back then, trudging through despair and gloom, thinking of nothing but the inevitable relief of the city. Your bones always ached something awful in that foul place, never warm enough to ward away the icy air. Now, though, it occurs to you that you hadn’t fully appreciated the cold when you had it.

The sun that streams down from the skies is blistering - scorching, even - and without reprieve or relief. Sweat courses down your neck, soaking the collar of your shirt. Your socks are damp inside your boots, and where the leather meets your calves, they’re chafing.

Gods, what you wouldn’t give for a bit of that chill again. Even with the achy bones.

What’s worse is the mud, somehow. One would think that Baldur’s Gate would be scarce on its share of the stuff, but it’s everywhere. Tracked up from Rivington, puddling in the streets, clinging to the bottom of boots.

Granted, your boots have seen more than their fair share of mud since the nautiloid: sticky, wet, warm. It’s seeped into socks and splattered across new armor, stained some of your favorite nightwear. Sometimes, when you’ve finally settled down for dinner, you’ve been able to taste it. No amount of scrubbing rids you of the earthy, bitter taste for long.

The mud in front of you is different, though. By all accounts, the heat should have baked everything at least somewhat dry, but this puddle remains. If it can even be called a puddle, really. The gloppy, wet mess looks more like a pond, and completely blocks the only path ahead. Even the edges of it remain entirely liquid. If you didn’t know better, you’d think it’d just rained.

A quick glance at your map confirms what you’d feared; this is the only nearby route to your destination. You’re on the outskirts of the city. Rock walls line either side of the path, too steep to climb. You know for a fact that Shadowheart had recently used your last Potion of Flying. Either you lose hours of progress to get Gale from camp so you can cross, or you’ll have to proceed through this stupid pond.

Astarion watches you eye the mess with a dramatic flick of his wrist. “Oh, by all means, darling, you go first!” he exclaims, raising a brow. “It won’t be me jumping in that slop.”

Karlach frowns at the mud’s appearance, tapping the toe of her boot against the surface. It ripples at the movement, brown waves gently sloshing against the surface of the nearby stone. “Can’t be that deep, right?”

“I don’t know,” you reply. You’re aching for a stick or loose branch, something to measure it, but there’s nothing around. Just grass and stone, the scalding sun on the back of your neck, and the muddy pond directly in the middle of the path.

“I say we go back,” Shadowheart urges. “I don’t know about any of you, but I’m not keen on dirtying myself.”

“We’d have to backtrack through hours of traveling,” you point out. “There’s no other way forward. I’ve checked the map.”

“Fine,” she relents, crossing her arms across her chest. “You go first, and we’ll follow behind you. Once we’ve seen it’s safe, that is.”

And, hells, you do not want to step foot in there. Not one bit. Still, do you have much of a choice? Your feet are already aching from the day’s walk. It would be devastating to lose all your progress. So, no - you really don’t have a choice, not if you want to get those Netherstones and stop the Absolute in time. The quakes in the city have only been getting worse.

“Alright,” you finally reply, your voice stronger than you feel.

You step forward, pressing your right boot against the mud, then apply your weight. Your heel breaks the surface with a terrifying rush of movement, and your leg instantly slides down into the muck - much deeper than you’d thought, deeper than it should be. When your foot hits the bottom, sticky, cold mud splatters up, painting your shirt, neck, and parts of your face.

Suddenly, the day isn’t quite so warm.

When you finally muster the courage to look down, your right leg is submerged up to the knee, soaking through your trousers. You can practically hear the sick squelch of it making its way into your socks, squishing between your toes.

“Urgh,” you mutter, wrinkling your nose as you attempt to pull your leg up. “Disgusting.” But it won’t budge. In fact, your squirming seems to be making you sink down even further. You try to shift your weight, but your balance is uneven with one leg in and one leg out. You’re dangerously close to losing your footing, and every bit you struggle threatens to tilt you face-first into the makeshift mud pond. In a prime moment of idiocy, you plant your other foot in the mud for support, and find your bottom half completely unable to move.

“What a brilliant idea,” Shadowheart says. “Now you’re stuck.”

“Thank you, Shadowheart,” you grit out, sweat dripping down your neck as you attempt to twist yourself around. “I had no idea!”

Karlach steps behind you, laughing a little. “Come on. Up you go, soldier,” she says, leveraging her arms under yours and giving a quick tug. You’re expecting the mud to release you, but it doesn’t. Your legs don’t budge - not even an inch.

“What in the…?” she mutters, giving another pull. This one has more force behind it; when she tries to haul you up, white-hot pain sears up through your ribs, ripping an agonized cry from your lips. No matter how hard she yanks, the mud’s grip only tightens around you. It’s beginning to feel like you’re a brittle piece of rope in a vicious game of tug-of-war.

“Shit! I’m sorry!” she exclaims. “So, so, sorry!”

“What are you doing?” Astarion asks, his voice suddenly sharp. “You’re hurting her! Put her down!”

“So she can get sucked further into the mud?” Shadowheart asks. Her voice is lined with fear now, which is scaring you more than anything else about this miserable situation. “We have to get her out!”

But it quickly becomes clear that no matter how hard Karlach pulls, it’s useless. Every yank is agony, and you only sink further and further. Tears stream down your cheeks from the pain, and your spine feels like it’s gained a good two inches from being stretched, but still nothing. No give at all.

Eventually, Karlach lets you go. Your body plops down in relief, but the mud is somehow deeper than it was before. It’s up to the bottom of your ribs now.

“Fuck me,” she pants, wiping her forehead. “What should we do?”

“How should I know?” Astarion’s face is drawn, more pallid than usual. His lips are pinched into a line. He should be telling you I told you so, making jokes - and you know he would be, if he were anything but absolutely terrified. Your panic is bad enough with the heaviness of the mud on your chest and lower body, but the look on his face? That tells you it’s even worse than it feels.

“Step back,” Shadowheart instructs quietly. “I have an idea.”

Once the two of them are out of the way, she steps forward. Stretching out her hands, she mutters an incantation into the air. In seconds, the slight chill of the mud surrounding you becomes sharp, painful ice that burns against every exposed inch of skin it touches. A very muddy shade of ice, but ice all the same.

Karlach’s axe crashes through the surface and it shatters, breaking around you. After another hit and a moment of digging, she finally has you out: freezing, still covered in mud, and very sore - but alive.

“Thank you,” you manage, choking out the words between your shivering.

“Never say I didn’t do anything for you,” Shadowheart says, smiling a little. She lets out a breath of relief, the tension bleeding from her shoulders. “Now. Turning around, are we?”

By the time you get back to camp, you’re the most uncomfortable you’ve ever been in your life. You’re wet and cold and exhausted, caked with dried mud that pulls at your skin when you move. It’s in your hair, on your face, and in your shoes, squelching with every step. The feeling makes you want to crawl out of your skin. Your ribs are sore and achy, and - on top of all of that - you’ve lost a good day’s worth of travel.

The only thing you want is to fall into Astarion’s arms, but he wrinkles his nose when you come near, holding out a finger to stop you. “Oh, no you don't,” he says. “Bath first. Then you can talk to me, darling.”

It seems no amount of persuasion is going to change his mind, so you head back to your tent and grab a number of supplies - soap, sponges, a towel, and a change of clothes. Your trusty knife for protection. The river is bound to be freezing, but it’s better than sponging yourself down and hoping for the best.

Thank the gods you’d found a decent pair of boots in an abandoned house today, because the ones that are currently plastered to your feet will take days to dry out, even in the hot sun. When you get to the nearby river, you don’t even bother to take them off before you plunge them into icy water, sufficiently drenching them until you can furiously loosen the mud enough to slip them off and toss them onto the riverbank.

The rest of your clothing gets the same treatment: the trousers which slowly pull away from your skin, the shirt that’s splattered with mud and covered in it up to the waist. Your hair will no doubt be a disaster, too.

You’re still sitting in the soaking-wet clothes when you hear the sound of a twig snapping behind you. Your hand instantly grabs for your knife, ready to throw it at whatever threat might be in the woods as your eyes sweep along the trees.

Nothing. You find nothing.

“Darling,” comes Astarion’s voice. He slips out from the shadows, immaculately clean, gazing down at the weapon in your hand with a lifted brow. “Planning to render me dead twice-over?”

“You scared the living hells out of me, Astarion!” you snap, sucking in a shaky breath. The blade drops from your loosened fingers, softly thumping against the dirt. “What are you doing out here?”

He steps closer, taking a seat on a nearby log. “You were taking ages to get clean,” he whines, sprawling out his legs in front of him. “And, unfortunately, our companions haven’t had an argument all night. How else am I meant to entertain myself? So here I am. Trudging through the woods for your company.”

“You could give me a warning next time,” you reply, still a little jarred. “I thought you were someone hoping to catch an eyeful.”

A smirk flickers across his lips. “Oh, but I am,” he says. “Do you mind terribly?”

Against your will, your cheeks heat, and his smile widens. “I don’t mind,” you say. “Not if you behave, that is. Hands to yourself.”

“I’ll be on my very best behavior,” he promises. Leaning forward, he prods your boots, wrinkling his nose at the sight. “Gods below. Those disgusting things should be burned.”

“I have an extra pair.” You move to tug your shirt off, but it’s clinging to you. “Gods damn that stupid mud pile. I should have asked Gale to use a cleaning spell.”

“Oh, please,” Astarion says. “He’s been sulking in his tent all evening. Apparently, being asked to blow yourself up by an old flame doesn’t do much in the way of socializing.”

The shirt finally pulls free, and it’s clear that your smallclothes have received the same treatment as the rest of your garments. Gods, you really should have asked for that cleaning spell. This mud is going to take ages to get out.

“Hand that here,” Astarion says, motioning for your shirt. You toss it to him, and he inspects it closely before setting aside.

“What?” you ask. “What were you looking for?”

“Oh, darling, nothing,” he says. “That’s my ‘to be burned’ pile. We’ll get you a new one.”

You’d argue, but you aren’t very attached to your current outfit - and besides, after weeks of trekking through wilderness and Shadowlands alike, it’s falling apart even without the mud.

“Do what you want with it,” you grumble, finally pulling off your smallclothes. “That shirt was barely surviving anyway.”

You glance over your shoulder and find him observing with a raised brow, slowly taking the sight of you in. You must look like a mess, but you’d never know it from the glint in the eye, or the complacent smile that plays upon his lips. Heat stirs low in your belly, simmering under your skin. Later, you tell yourself. When you aren’t covered in filth.

You lather up the soap on your sponge, scrubbing away the mud the best you can, but the damned stuff takes ages to get off. By the time you’re finally clean, the silvery moon is high in the sky, and your skin is beginning to prune.

Astarion makes a small comment or two, but mostly seems content to watch you in silence. His gaze burns over every inch of exposed skin, leaving phantom heat wherever it stalls. All you want is to get out of this damned river and touch him, but you’re determined to get every bit of the mud off before you do, and it’s taking much longer than you’d hoped.

When you’re finally presentable, you start on cleaning your filthy smallclothes. The soap is slippery, making it difficult to do much scrubbing, and the water alone is doing hardly anything.

Astarion watches you struggling, huffing as you nearly drop the soap bar in the river. After a moment, he lets out an exasperated sigh. “Dearest, you do realize that it would be much easier if you-”

But his words suddenly cut off. His head snaps toward the woods, and every nerve in your body burns with fear. In the span of seconds, he’s lunged forward, grabbed your knife, and darted after the sound.

Not a moment later, there’s a loud crash - some form of impact as he tackles whatever it was that he heard. You instantly push yourself out of the water without thinking, numb, your heart pounding in your chest as you stumble into the forest after him. It only takes a few steps in before you see it: a man on the ground, Astarion’s knife to his throat.

Your stomach churns, and your skin prickles in the air’s chill. How much had he seen? How long had he been standing there?

Astarion is shouting something at him, and the stranger is struggling against his hold, but it’s useless. He’s a scrawny, weak little thing, no match for Astarion’s lithe, nimble strength. No amount of twisting or fighting dislodges Astarion’s grip. After a moment, he finally gives up, cackling like an old hag as his head plops down against the dirt.

“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t kill you here and now,” Astarion hisses, anger contorting his features.

In response, the man spits in his face. “She’s your bitch, is she?” he croaks. “You can take a turn after I’m done with her.”

Astarion snarls in response, gripping the man’s collar and pressing the blade deeper into the skin until it draws blood.

“Wait,” you call, stepping closer. “Don’t.”

Astarion blinks in disbelief, sitting up, careful to keep his weight on the stranger underneath. “My love, you can’t be serious,” he says. “You want to spare this-”

“Spare?” you echo, cutting off his words. “Who said anything about sparing him?”

Something glints in his gaze as he takes in your words. “Darling,” he drawls, his tone admirational. “By all means.”

He hands you the knife, and you kneel down next to him. It’s heavy in your hand, cold and smooth as you run your finger over the flat edge of the blade. You stare at the shimmer of it for a moment, entranced, somehow calm in the midst of this chaos. Then you slam the bottom of the hilt into the man’s nose.

There’s a sickening crunch before he screams, blood streaming over his mouth and spilling down his chin. Even after last night’s feeding, Astarion tenses up at the smell of it, but the curl of his lip tells you that he won’t be drinking from this piece of absolute refuse.

When the stranger reaches over and grabs at your arm, you almost don’t even realize - you’re so caught up in your own mind, in the weight of the knife in your hand. Then his nails dig into your skin, and everything hits you at once.

The freezing night air. The stinging, throbbing pain that flares through your skin as he claws at you, unable to do much more. The feel of Astarion’s hand, gentle but firm, prying the knife from your grip. It happens before you can even react - a swift slice of the blade, slitting the man’s throat. Dark blood, gushing from the wound and onto the dirt below.

For a moment, there is nothing but the sound of your breathing. Sharp but shallow, straining in your chest. Jagged air that flows in and out, but it does nothing to stop the increasing amount of black in your vision.

You’ve fought and killed more people than you can count so… why does this feel different? Why here, why now? You’ve nearly died before, so why does the scrape on your arm feel like it’s much more than that?

Then Astarion’s hands envelop your cheeks, blissfully cool, and the panic and pain seep out all at once.

“Darling,” he’s saying, half-breathless, “are you alright?”

You manage to nod, and some of the concern leaves his eyes. He runs his fingers over the scrape on your arm, and you wince. “We need to get you patched up,” he murmurs, his brows pinching together.

“Don’t take me to Shadowheart,” you choke out. She’s already done you enough favors, and you won’t be able to stand her disapproving gaze if you disturb her rest after today’s fiasco.

He huffs. “Stubborn little thing,” he mutters, but he doesn’t argue.

Instead, he heads back to your supplies by the river. When he returns, he wraps a towel over your shoulders, and it’s only then that you realize you’re naked. Completely, utterly naked. It had been bold of you to break that bastard’s nose in the nude, but… well, it hadn’t been your intention.

He’s dead now, though. He’ll never look at you again.

Astarion sweeps you up into his arms and carries you out of the woods along with your clean change of clothes, holding you tight against his chest and leaving your soiled clothing behind.

You can’t find it in you to care at the moment. You’ve scrounged up plenty of clothing along the journey; those torn, stained things won’t be missed. Not to mention, if you ever need more, Astarion will gladly steal you some new ones.

He takes you to your tent, and you’re grateful to see that everyone else has turned in for the night. Anyone awake to see you would inevitably have questions, and this only affirms your decision to avoid Shadowheart - if you woke her up to heal a minor scrape on your arm, she’d be seething.

And though she’d undoubtedly be sympathetic after hearing the cause, you don’t think you can muster up the words to tell her what’d happened.

After he’s carefully set you down on your bedroll, Astarion yanks the flap of your tent closed and reaches for your pack, digging through the contents until he’s found some bandages. His grip is gentle as he takes your arm and swipes some remnants of a healing potion over it. You’ve been through this dozens of times, but you can never seem to shake the urge to wince as it sets in - the potion stings just a bit before it soothes, a sharp tingling that fades into a sweet, balming relief.

You’ve calmed down some, warming up in your tent with him, but Astarion’s hands are shaking as he wraps the wound. His brows are pinched together, his swallows are thick and strained, and he can’t seem to meet your eyes, even when he’s done bandaging you up.

“Astarion,” you murmur. “He’s dead.”

He stills in place, jaw clenching as he inhales sharply, still not meeting your gaze. Instead, he glowers down at the tent’s floor, his hands balling into fists. “He deserved so much worse than that,” he snaps.

You don’t argue with him. Instead, you let him fuss over you, taking the time to smooth through your wet hair, plucking out remaining leaves and twigs from the woods. He gets you into a warm, fluffy robe - only the gods know where he’d managed to find something like that - then pulls you close, his thumb stroking over your cheek. You rest your head against his chest and close your eyes, listening to the soft sounds of his body working under his skin. No heartbeat, of course, just the quiet churn of his movements, the rise and fall of his ribs that’s become habit to him.

After a moment, he takes your face in his hands, just as he had in the woods - but when you meet his gaze, there’s a sharp intensity in his eyes rather than fear. He takes you in little by little, tilting your head up to brush his fingers over the fading marks on your neck.

Then he leans in, and you catch the smell of him you know so well, lingering on his skin like soap. Bergamot, rosemary, brandy. It’s what you associate most with him, that sweet, sharp scent that bathes over you. When his lips finally meet yours, the kiss is rough and desperate, heated and aching. His fangs scrape over your lip, grazing the delicate skin but not breaking it. His tongue slides into your mouth, and his hand returns to the back of your neck, tightening his grip.

One of your hands fix into his shirt as you lean into him, nipping at his lip. You shift your free hand up into his hair, tousling through the soft, silky curls before gently tugging. He groans and pulls you closer, and - gods, it’s incredible. Warmth drags down your spine like a hot coal, searing and addictive. You squirm a little in his grasp, shifting until you’re straddling his hips, and he pulls away to kiss down your jaw, murmuring soft words into the skin.

When he gets to your chest, you let him untie the robe and spread his hands underneath, peeling the fabric off your shoulders, fingers slowly warming as they trail down your back. His hands settle on your waist as he kisses you again, mouth soft against yours.

Gods, you need him. You’re already soaked, and he’s barely even touched you.

You can feel him hardening underneath you, his movements growing desperate, his breathing labored. You grind your hips against him and he lets out a strained noise against your lips, shuddering. He pulls away, examining your expression as he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear.

The movement is tender and incredibly sweet, but you’re hardly patient. You’ve been wanting him ever since he sat on that log in the forest, gaze roaming over every inch of you. You let out a soft whine, attempting to tug off his shirt. He does absolutely nothing to help you.

“Astarion,” you breathe. “Please.”

“Hm? Did you want something, darling?” he asks, the desire in his voice betraying his otherwise casual tone.

“I want you,” you tell him, rolling your hips again in search of the friction you so desperately need. “Please. I want you.”

“Easy, love. You have me,” he replies, brushing his thumb against your lips. Your heart swells with a fondness that would threaten to make you cry if you weren’t so ridiculously needy.

And finally, thank the gods, he takes off his godsdamned shirt.

You run a hand up his shoulder, then into his hair. You’d once thought that he was using a special shampoo - his hair was so soft, it seemed the only explanation. Then you’d seen him with the same shampoo you were using, and you’d practically wept with envy over his ridiculously perfect genes. Even now, as you run your hands through the silk-soft curls, you don’t understand it.

Then you trace up the line of his ear, and he shudders, leaning into your touch. When you gently massage the tip of his helix, he lets out a soft, seeking noise and his eyes flutter shut. Hells, you swear that you can feel him growing even harder beneath you. Another roll of your hips and his eyes slowly open again, half-lidded and glazed with desire. His hands firmly grip your waist, and there’s the briefest sensation of falling as he rolls you back onto your bedroll, tucking the pillow under your head.

He kisses along your clavicle, nosing down your ribs, humming against your skin. Feather-light brushes of his lips meet your ribs, then your breast, pausing to swipe his tongue over your nipple before he proceeds downward. When he arrives at your navel, your legs automatically spread open for him, and he lets out a hum of approval. He takes a leg in his hand and kisses up the thigh, warm, sharp kisses that trail up to the place you want him most.

He starts off slowly - a long lick over your clit, a quick swipe of his tongue before he settles between your legs, propping your thigh over his shoulder and starting a maddening rhythm. After all this time, you really should know how much pleasure to expect - but after everything, after his confession in the Shadowlands and the fear with Cazador, this still feels… new.

And Astarion is very, very good at what he does. He seems to know exactly what you want before you do, before your mind can put it into tangible thought, and before your body can even search for it. He works a finger into you, then two, and you’re left gasping and squirming as he sets an agonizingly slow pace. After a moment, he speeds up, just where you want him, perfect, perfect-

And then he pulls away, and the look on his face practically shouts that he knows exactly what he’s doing to you. Of course he does. He’s always been a tease. His fingers continue their work, languidly dragging in and out of you as he speaks.

“You know,” he says, pressing a kiss to your thigh, “back at the river, this was all I could think about. Getting my mouth on you. Watching you come apart piece by piece.”

Gods, he’s been direct before, but never that direct. Frankly, you’re surprised you don’t come then and there. Instead, you clench hard around his fingers and whimper, rolling your hips in time with his movements.

“Astarion,” you pant, unable to coax your mind into forming a coherent reply. “Gods, Astarion.”

He hums in response, flashing you a wicked grin. “That’s it, darling,” he encourages, shifting his fingers until they’re brushing against a spot that makes your vision black out. “Say my name. Let everyone hear you.”

You manage a laugh that quickly fades into a soft moan. “The entire camp will kill me if I wake them up.”

He nips at your thigh. “Let them try,” he muses. “They’ll have to get through me.”

He lowers his mouth between your legs again, and your head falls back against the pillow. It’s an embarrassingly short time before your muscles start to tense up, wiring you with pleasure from head to toe. One of your hands fixes in his hair, pulling tightly as white-hot pleasure sparks through your abdomen, and oh, gods, you’re coming-

Your vision cuts out again. Your mind fuzzes over, drunk with pleasure, leaving you shuddering, clenching around his fingers, moaning into your free hand.

You know he’d prefer to hear you, but if you actually disturb any of the others, you’ll die of embarrassment. One day, the two of you will have your own house with a real bed, and you’ll be as loud as you want. For now, you muffle your cries into your fingers and tremble through your climax.

Your body floats weightlessly for a moment in what must be Elysium, until you finally rejoin yourself and find your limbs heavy and uncoordinated. Astarion huffs, placing a final kiss on you until he crawls upward, kissing up your chest again.

He’s still holding himself back - you can see it in the way he moves, in the tension of his muscles and the coil of his shoulders. There’s a fire in his eyes, a hunger that you recognize so well. When he reaches your neck, you instinctively tilt your head, allowing him access to his usual spot.

For a moment, he hesitates, his warm breath fanning over the skin as your pulse hammers in your throat. Then he groans, grinding himself into your leg as he bites down, chasing his pleasure against your thigh as your blood spills into his mouth.

You know this routine so very well by now. The sting of the bite, and the numbness that follows. The ebb and flow of your blood, filling his mouth. The slight dizziness that comes before he pulls away, swiping his tongue over the bite for one final taste.

“Gods,” he pants, gripping your shoulder. Then, to your utter disappointment and confusion, he pulls away. “Wait here, my sweet. I need to - I’ll be right back. I promise.”

And before you can protest, he’s scrambling out the tent. For a long, numb moment, you stare at the tent opening, wondering if you’re dreaming. The silence of the tent grates on your ears, echoing the sound of your breathing until you can barely stand it. Then he’s pushing inside again, a scroll in hand as he closes the tent.

“Do I want to know what that is?” you ask.

“A scroll of Silence, darling. I’ve been saving it.” He flashes you a grin, murmuring the incantation as the scroll shimmers in his hand. Pure Weave, confined into parchment.

You don’t hear the spell take effect, but you feel it. It’s a thickness in the air, a heaviness in your movements.

Astarion doesn’t waste another second. He pushes up to kiss you, and it’s messy - your tongue against his, the sting of sharp teeth, your hand in his hair and his hand on the nape of your neck. There’s the taste of metal and herbs: your blood mixed with the remnants of a healing potion. He spreads your legs with his knee, then sits back on his heels and reaches down to undo his trousers.

You study him for a moment. The crease of his brow. The alabaster of his skin, sculpted out like a statue from marble.

If you were an artist, you’d make him your life’s work. You’d chip out his every feature little by little, painstakingly working away at the stone to define the look in his eyes when he tells you he loves you. You’d spend ages carving every wrinkle, every line, every perfect imperfection. The touch of it would be cold, like him, but it could never compare to how he looks as he settles over you, eyes blown dark with desire.

He inches closer, still on his knees, and takes hold of your thighs, lifting them up to meet his hips before gently easing inside of you. He lets out a sharp exhale as he slowly presses deeper, his grip shifting to your waist.

Nothing could compare to the way it feels as he fills you up inch by inch, murmuring praise, telling you how beautiful you are for him. “Darling,” he bites out, gritting his teeth at the pleasure. “If anyone ever tries anything like that with you again, I’ll tear them to shreds.”

You laugh a little, breathless, delirious in the delicious stretch of him inside you. “I won’t stop you. I just might ask to break their nose first.”

He shakes his head, but a small smile plays on his lips before he straightens and starts his rhythm. Slow, even thrusts that leave you grasping at the blankets beneath you, trying to steady yourself in the waves of sensation. He stares down at you, half-drunk on your blood, lips parted and his cheeks flushed.

“You feel incredible,” he breathes. “Gods. You’re incredible.”

Your eyes don’t quite know where to land. They never do. Now, they flutter over his abdomen, taking in the sight of the muscles that ripple and contract with the rolling of his hips. The droplets of sweat that slowly build on his skin, glimmering like crystals.

His jaw clenches, and his pace starts to quicken, and the feeling of him inside of your aching cunt is just so godsdamned good. His cock stretches you out like it was made for you, and soon your lungs are hardly filling with air. You can’t think, and you can scarcely breathe. All you know is that you’re not going to last much longer.

You tug at the blankets and shut your eyes, and he lets out another soft, aching noise as he thrusts deeper, faster, filling you up, the slick sound of your arousal echoing through the tent and mixing with the heaving of your breaths. You clench around him and he groans, shifting the angle of your hips, rhythm frantic.

“That’s it,” he pants. “Come for me, darling.”

And you do. Your body clenches around him as you cry out, back arching, pleasure overtaking every thought but one: Astarion. Astarion, Astarion, Astarion. Your breaths scrape shallowly through your chest and ecstasy burns through every inch of you, every nerve - until you feel paralyzed. Content, thoroughly fucked and sated, but paralyzed.

You’ve just started to come back to your senses when Astarion follows you over the edge, a moan tumbling from his lips that sounds remarkably like your name. His hips thrust a few more times, chasing after his pleasure, clumsy movements that slow to a halt as he shuts his eyes. He shudders, then slackens, carefully pulling out of you before he wraps his hands around your thighs and gently lowers them back to the bedroll.

You can barely move, still lost in the aftershocks of pleasure as he cleans you up, smoothing the hair out of your face as he lays next to you.

“You know,” he says, “I think I’m going to ask Gale to make us another one of those scrolls.”

And, gods, all you can do is laugh.

#astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion x you #astarion fic #astarion smut #bg3 x reader #mywriting

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theaceace · 1 year ago

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An old concept that I'm still feral over, but a Dreamling fic in which the dreamling relationship is chronicled entirely by Yelp reviews of the New Inn.

Reviews are either 5* or 1* with surprisingly little in between, and the business owner replies are always a riot. They start off fairly normal, talking about the food and drink, the couple of guest rooms upstairs, the location and prices etc, but then they start to get weird.

Constantine leaves 3*, beer is shit whiskey is ok not haunted which is more than I can say for most london pubs and the response is Thanks Jo, but you're still banned

4* this place is run by my history professor and it's amazing but he asked me about my overdue essay three times so I can't give it 5* and Hob, who has had multiple students visit the pub for the sole purpose of doing this, is just like you still haven't submitted that, get off yelp and start citing your sources

There are multiple 5* reviews like would give 10* if i could, the owner chased off a neo nazi with a literal sword he pulled out from behind the bar

5* should probably give it less because a couple of times the answers to the history round on the monthly quiz night have been wrong, but otherwise it's a solid little place for a reasonably priced pint and a nice afternoon and Hob's response is just those answers were right

And then Dream comes back and the reviews start... Changing, a bit

One of the 1* reviews is just complaining about the fact that there was a bird at the bar and no one got rid of it and the reply from Hob is that's Matthew, he has a tab. Several of the 5* reviews are also about the fact that sometimes there's a bird in the bar

One of the 5* reviews is saw the most beautiful goth twink in the world, will definitely be going back and Hob nearly deletes that one. The reply instead is that's my boyfriend, unlike Matthew he never pays his tab

5* i have no idea how i got there or found the place because i swaer i was halfway across london from where google maps says it is but anyway the bartender was really great and understandig when I started crying on him, will defiantely go back if reality ever warps like that again. Response from owner: yeah sorry about the reality warping, we don't get it either

1* I only wish I could have given this establishment a glowing review – fabulous service, lovely food and a sumptuous wine I hadn't expected, but unfortunately I had to see my brother's face. Response from owner: Desire get off the internet, it doesn’t need your help

#sandman #dreamling #hob gadling #dream of the endless #the new inn

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tf2heritageposts · 2 months ago

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i don’t think we really focus on the fact that it’s extremely possible in canon that soldier is playing up exactly how stupid he actually is

case in point:

the idea behind the mvm map decoy is it’s a decoy (wow) version of mann co meant to distract the robots and keep them from attacking the actual mann co

the wiki describes it as “poorly done” alterations to the buildings to make it look like mann co but what does it matter? the robots ARE attacking the decoy base instead of the actual mann co

gray mann is absolutely being sarcastic here but he really has no room to talk because soldier’s plan did in fact work. it’s also something to note that gray mann also plays himself up, only making everyone think he’s a genius, and while it would be unfair to not call him intelligent, he exhibits multiple lapses in judgement and lack of foresight (namely: telling a man who’s much stronger than him to fuck off with questions about his strange immortality device, not programming his robots to recognize soldier’s decoy base as a fake one which would’ve required him to not actually program them to know where mann co actually is or what it looks like, etc). it’s way easier to pretend to be stupider than you actually are than to be smarter than actually are

also soldier did in fact infiltrate a robot meeting and learned shit that nobody else was supposed to know. did he do it by a stupid method of a robot costume? yeah but it worked so it wasn’t really that stupid

am i saying soldier is a secret genius? no though i’ve seen that idea before. am i saying that soldier used to be smart before he got lead poisoning? also no, though lead causing damage to his brain is definitely impacting his current behavior

i think soldier isn’t extremely bright but has average to slightly above average intelligence that he plays up into being just an idiot for a few reasons

1. gives him an excuse to act out more violently because he’s “ just an idiot who doesn’t know any better.”

2. lets him be inconspicuous and not be seen as a threat(moreso as in “ this guy won’t hinder me he’s an idiot). this could also possibly give him time to actually think of a plan of action to get out of whatever situation he’s in, since he’s shown to be able to think through situations and come up with plans beforehand(eg: the Australian sub port) rather than just going shock and awe about it

3. he thinks it’s funny

#not a heritage post #this is worded like shit but i hope this makes sense

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ozzgin · 10 months ago

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Yandere! Yokai Harem x Reader (III)

On your travels with the two demon companions, you stumble upon a fortified village plagued by monster attacks. It would be quite unlucky if the grand finale happened just as you step foot inside, right? Worry not, you're saved by a third mysterious yokai that you immediately recognize. The harem grows!

Content: female reader, monsters, violence

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Character Guide]

“Alright, how’s this?”

You do a clumsy pirouette before the two yokai men.

“That’s...are you sure?” Kiritsubo eyes you, mildly confused. “It��s usually what men wear.”

Of course, you already know. After weeks of walking through feudal Japan, you’ve reached the conclusion that modern clothing isn’t the most practical choice. Not to mention the strange looks you always get from other people upon your arrival in any village. You needed something to blend in, and the typical fashion for your gender might not be compatible with your training. You’d rather not swing a sword while covered in multiple layers of kimono.

Thus, you opted for the hakama pants typically worn by men. With your hair tied up and in this baggy attire, one could think you’re a young samurai. If they squint enough. You chuckle at the thought.

“She’ll wear whatever allows her to not be a burden.” Murasaki concludes with crossed arms.

One way to put it, you tell yourself.

“If you’re done discussing fashion, we can leave.” The dark-haired man continues with indifference, standing up and adjusting the swords in the folds of his sash.

Both you and Kiritsubo hurry and follow behind obediently.

“Where are we going this time?” You ask sheepishly.

“South-west. An old residence of his, although we will have to pass through a fortified settlement first. We should reach it before sunset.”

It’s hard to imagine you’re the supposed savior in this equation. Murasaki has been leading you by the hand each step, carefully considering every detail on the map, and extensively planning your travels every evening. All this on top of your daily training. You’ve now mastered the basics with the katana he’s provided you, as well as some common prayers for exorcising small-class demons.

You glance at the daisho pair of swords under his belt. A long, thin blade, and a shorter backup version, both in elaborate matching scabbards meant to showcase the status and wealth of the samurai wearing them. In this case, meant to express his rank as the advisor and right hand of the famed onmyōji. You certainly don’t doubt Nakamaro’s decision to rely on Murasaki.

In comparison, Kiritsubo carries a nagamaki at his waist. A comically long blade in your opinion, used mostly to bring down horses during battle. Any regular sword would’ve been too small for him. Despite his imposing appearance, you’ve learned rather quickly just how different Kiritsubo is from the other yokai. He’s quite clumsy in combat, often anxious about making mistakes, terribly apologetic, and overall has a heart too kind for his own good. If there’s hesitation coming from his side, Murasaki immediately follows with his ruthless, ending blows. As a matter of fact, even you’ve had to do the occasional killing to spare the man of such choices.

The silver-haired demon notices your eyes on him and smiles, excited. He reminds you of a large dog. A horned, fanged dog of monstrous strength, nonetheless the innocence is there. And he does make a great travel companion.

“How much longer?” You grunt, looking up.

“Are you tired? I can carry you for the rest of the way-” Kiritsubo instantly offers but is interrupted by Murasaki’s barked orders.

“She can walk. Don’t spoil her.” He glares at you, then nods ahead. “We’re almost there, so quit your whining.”

True to his word, you can finally discern the outline of a wall at the top of the hill. A few more steps, and you can even spot two guards standing beside the great gate.

“Stop there!”

The soldiers lift their spears threateningly. Before you can react, Murasaki steps in front of you with a hand placed on his sword.

“We’re just passing through.” He states factually.

“We’re no longer allowing visitors.” One of the guards exclaims. “The village has been raided by monsters recently and our Lord has closed all gates until the matter is solved.”

“That means no filthy demons go in.” The other adds in a mocking tone, his gaze lingering on the horns of your companions. His mouth curls in disgust.

You can tell Murasaki is angered by the disrespectful approach. He is not one to let such insults slide and you’d rather avoid him claiming unnecessary victims; therefore, you push past his arm and plant yourself ahead with a polite greeting bow.

“These yokai are with me. I vouch for their good behavior, so please consider letting us through. Perhaps we can even help you with these monsters.”

“You? How would you…”

The man stops abruptly, switching between you and the yokai. Eventually he inspects your scabbard, and he gasps, confusion twisting his features.

“Could it be? No…He’d be dead by now.”

“What are you talking about?” His partner inquires impatiently.

“That’s the family seal belonging to Abe no Nakamaro.” He explains, pointing to the golden finish at the end of your katana handle. “I’ve heard about him from my grandparents. But it’s been decades!”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You’re saying this kid is a legendary onmyōji?”

“Who else would show up with demons as servants? Everything matches. Perhaps his powers have finally reached immortality”, he concludes solemnly.

The men continue their argument, and you clear your throat, embarrassed. What the hell? You can’t possibly look that manly. Sure, you’ve been skipping the makeup, and the clothes aren’t exactly curve shaping, but to be mistaken for an old man is like a slap to the face.

You’re about to deny their claims, but Murasaki swiftly pinches the back of your neck, and you wince. He lowers himself to your ear and whispers:

“This will be to our advantage. Just go along with it.” “Fine!” You mumble angrily. Then you turn back to the guards.

“V-very well, I see I haven’t been forgotten.” You admit, theatrically. “Lead me to your Lord and we shall discuss the details of your monster attack.”

Thus, you sip on your tea, kneeling at the luxurious table and awaiting the arrival of the feudal Lord. The servants are exchanging words, gossiping fervently next to the wall. “I wonder if he can cure my daughter!” one woman mumbles, visibly emotional.

“Do you think we can finally be saved? He’ll truly exorcise the beasts tormenting our village?” another whispers.

You wipe the sweat from your forehead and glare at Murasaki. You had no idea he’d given you Nakamaro’s old sword. Now you’re stuck pretending to be a pompous, long-dead asshat.

“What if they catch us?” You hiss between your teeth. “I don’t know shit about onmyōdō.”

“Then I’ll just kill them all. Simple as that.” The crimson-eyed man retorts, unconcerned. “Have a little fun, won’t you?”

“W-we’ll help you come up with answers, (Y/N). Don’t worry.” Kiritsubo chimes in, trying to reassure you.

You sigh in frustration and look out the window. The sun must’ve set a long time ago and has since been replaced by a pitch-black sky. What’s keeping the Lord? Surely, he can’t be having important business meetings late at night.

Almost as if your thoughts were read, the door slides open and a servant wobbles in. The rest of the household workers are silent, expecting the entrance of their master, but no one is following behind. You observe the bizarre limp of the woman. Suddenly, she collapses to the floor, revealing her bloodied back torn by deep wounds, caused by some sort of claw. Her body is stiff.

Panic settles in right away, and the servants topple over each other to get away from the fresh cadaver. You struggle to get up among the terrified crowd, but thankfully Murasaki grabs your wrist and pulls you out into a quieter hallway.

“What the hell?” is all you manage to say.

“Rotten.” Kiritsubo furrows his brows, sniffing the air. “Someone in here must be possessed. Could be more of them.”

Murasaki surveys the surroundings and gestures towards his partner.

“We have to see if the Lord is still alive. You go that way. I’ll take the front. Kill everyone suspicious.”

“What about me?” You demand, holding your breath.

“Get out and wait for us. You know how to draw a protection circle, don’t you? I won’t take long.” The dark-haired yokai answers before vanishing.

Judging by the screams and wails coming from all directions, you suspect Kiritsubo is right about multiple attackers. You sprint across the hall, looking for an opening. The self-defense lessons didn’t cover cursed humans with demonic powers. You’ll stay out of this one.

What an absolute mess. You have encountered some demons in your weeks spent here, but nothing to this degree. When the guards mentioned a monster attack, you imagined a ghost with a grudge, or some small fry yokai scaring the workers at night, not a mass curse that ends in a massacre. Of course, it had to happen the moment you arrived at the main house.

You find a room with a door leading to the inner courtyard. Seems isolated enough and it should provide a bit of shelter while you wait for the pair to finish the business. As you rush past the dead bodies, you notice a woman hiding behind a screen divider.

“Ah! It’s you!” she yells, aware of your presence.

From the shadow of her secret spot emerges the small frame of a child. The woman pushes the little human towards you, blocking your path.

“Don’t worry, he’ll protect us.” she gives her child another nudge. “Go on, hold onto him. You’ll be safe.”

What? No, no, no, no, no. Not happening. You’re getting out.

“Ma’am, sorry to break it to you under such circumstances, but I’m not-”

You’re interrupted by a loud growl. One of the possessed creatures must’ve followed your scent, and it’s now sliding into the room on all fours with the bones of the limbs twisting and creaking in unnatural pounces. You purse your lips in a frightened grimace. One advantage of the wide hakama pants – useful to know – is that no one can see your knees shaking cowardly.

Theoretically, you could use the brat as bait and run for your life. It’d make a decent obstacle. Unfortunately for your life span, you’ve been gifted with an idiotic sense of duty instead of survival instincts.

“Keep your distance. If I can’t kill it, get out and don’t look back” you advise, positioning yourself in the learned stance and sliding the sword out of its sheath.

Damn it! Then again, it should be like fighting a zombie, right? Given the pathetic way it drags itself around, it can’t be too difficult to hit. Aim for the head, you repeat in your mind. Your fingers grip around the handle.

The ghoulish beast lowers itself, like a spring about to recoil, and leaps across the room with an ease you did not anticipate. Despite your iron hold, it slaps the blade out of your hands with enormous force. The impact breaks your skin, and you wince. There’s no time to weep, within seconds it could go for your vitals next. While Murasaki hasn’t gotten around to teaching you much hand-to-hand combat, you’ve read your fair share of shounen manga. The first idea that comes to mind is to put the beast in a sumo lock. You bend your knees smoothly and wrap your arms around the monster, feeling for something to hold onto. You grit your teeth and attempt to lift the creature.

A thundering laugh resonates within the walls, and you jolt, startled.

“I never thought I’d see the mighty Abe no Nakamaro wrestling with ankle biters like this. What are you going to do, throw it out of the ring?”

The voice is deep, loud, and unfamiliar. You can’t afford to look back to see the source, but it’s not hard to figure out the possibilities. So far, you’ve only been called by that cursed name by the yokai accomplices. Although now is not the best time to seek revenge.

“Shut up, I panicked”, you snap in frustration. “If you can’t help, keep that trap closed!”

The sudden burst of anger seems to have triggered something within your body, a power you don’t recognize. You watch as your arms effortlessly pick up the monster and swing it across the room, its body demolishing the opposing wall and causing thick clouds of dust to rise and spread everywhere.

The impact must’ve alerted the nearby ghouls, as you can now hear the agitated trample and screeching rapidly approaching. You’re not confident you can pull the same lucky move a second time.

You turn to search for your sword, but it’s already being handed to you by the mysterious yokai who’s been observing your little fight. You have to step aside and tilt your head all the way back in order to fully view the gigantic frame of the man.

Ah, you recognize the features immediately. The same kind of fear you felt when you stumbled upon that old shrine statue is now tugging at your chest.

“You’re Suma, right?”

A proud, wide grin forms on his face, revealing a pair of glistening fangs. His expression is unexpectedly soft and friendly.

“We’re halfway through our introductions then, eh?” You pick up the sword and his fingers stretch out for a handshake. “What is your given name? I’m guessing you don’t willingly go by that…title.”

“I very much prefer (Y/N), yes.” You marvel at the significant difference in size, placing your small hand in his. “Was that your power I just used?”

“Mhhm. You sure surprised me there! It’s not something I did intentionally, but I s’ppose we just resonate that well, huh?”

He laughs again, completely unbothered by the impending danger.

“Alright, you can leave the rest to me. Take the lady outside, it will get a little messy.”

And with that, he casually walks towards the gathering of ghouls. You guide the family to the courtyard and wait for the battle to end.

“Do you think she’ll be fine by herself?” Kiritsubo is resting against the fence, keeping you under a watchful gaze.

“Let the humans sort it out among themselves.” Murasaki responds, somewhat bored.

The morning after the attack, you offered to deal with the survivors: ask them how everything started, if they’d noticed anything suspicious days prior to the event, and if the route to Nakamaro’s old residence was still open. The yokai men had found the feudal Lord in the jaws of a possessed creature and he quickly succumbed to his wounds. Consequently, only the remaining servants could provide them with clues.

A village being targeted like this is highly unusual, and Murasaki can’t shake the feeling it could be related to their master.

“Oh, where are you heading after this?” The silver-haired yokai glances at Suma, sitting lazily next to them.

“Where? After you just told me the whole story? I’m way too invested in this modern reincarnation that just popped out of nowhere, so I’m tagging along!” He announces with a chuckle.

Murasaki frowns.

“We don’t need your help.”

“Don’t be like that.” The giant man pouts dramatically. “Are you upset I saved (Y/N) before you?”

“W-we were on our way!” Kiritsubo retorts, visibly bothered.

“It’s a done deal!” Suma rests his hands under his head and yawns. “Besides, the little human already said he doesn’t mind.”

“He? (Y/N) is a woman.”

The redhead abruptly sits up and gasps.

“Wait, what?”

“Don’t get funny ideas, man”, the silver-haired demon warns.

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gghostwriter · 4 months ago

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could you do spencer x fem!reader where he proposes in the middle of chasing an unsub?

Spencer Reid x BAU!Fem!Reader Trope: Established relationship; Fluff! Just fluff! w.c: 1.2k A/N: slowly finishing up on the remaining requests on my inbox. It’s taking me quite some time as I’m a mood writer so there’s days where I’m purely focused on my ideas then theres days where i’m motivated to finish the requests and theres days where i have no will to write a single word at all. Found myself rambling and immensly enjoying where the idea was going so hopefully this lives up to your expectation, no matter how late or unedited this is. Enjoy! Main masterlist

Curveball. // Spencer Reid

This wasn’t how Spencer planned it. Not at all.

By nature, he was a stickler to rules and organization. Having created a mind map on the trajectory of his life from the very first time he realized how different he was from the rest. Graduate early in high school, check. Get multiple BA and PhD degrees, multiple checks. Join the Behavioral Analysis Unit at Quantico, big check. Everything was planned out. No matter how big or small.

Or at least it was, up until you strolled into the bullpen with your sensible heeled boots, crisp button downs, and tailor fitted slacks. A new recruit directly slotted by David Rossi, just like how Jason Gideon pulled rank to get him in the BAU. The stark difference was you weren’t as green as he was back then, fresh from the academy. With your credentials considered one of the best and with beaming approval from the BAU’s co-founder, David Rossi, and former member, Katie Cole of CACU, you were an immediate shoe in for the position—joining the team’s dynamic quite effortlessly and with ease.

Meeting you and falling helplessly in love with you by the end of your 6-month stay in the team was never written in Spencer’s books. He never thought once that he would find, as cliche as it sounded, a forever companion beyond the platonic relationships built within the team. He, in all of his intellect, also never thought you’d end up viewing him the same way but you did. He was so glad you did. Any disruption it caused to his mind map was a change he wholeheartedly welcomed as long as he got to come home with you wrapped in his arms.

But at the following moments, Spencer was re-considering his standpoint on the thrown curveballs that come his way all from being devotedly enamored with you.

“Spencer Reid!” you stomped your foot on the carpeted floor of the shared hotel room to gain his attention. “Did you suggest to Hotch that I be on geographical profile duty with you rather than being out with my usual partner Morgan?”

“What? No—no! Why would you think that, princess?”

With your arms crossed on your chest, hip cocked to one side, and analytical eyes cataloguing his every fidget, he knew his lie was done for.

You scoffed. “Oh I don’t know, besides from the fact you can’t look me in the eye, what else is there?” You took a minute to pause for dramatization. “Oh I know, is it because I bear a striking resemblance to all the victims? Or is it because of what happened during the last case?”

He scrunched his nose, giving himself away. “You got shot without me there, of course I got worried! What if—what if you weren’t wearing your kevlar vest or what if the unsub aimed higher, making sure to land a critical hit?” His form slumped down on the bed. “I can’t bear the thought of you in danger while I’m not around to protect you.”

“Spence, our job comes with a risk and I’m good at my job—”

“I know you are. I’ve seen you in target practice and tackle unsubs bigger than you but it also comes with the boyfriend territory that I worry whenever you’re away.”

You sighed, sitting beside him and taking his hand into yours. The difference in size was a sharp reminder on how petite and delicate you are in Spencer’s eyes. “And I get that too when we’re on duty and apart but you know what gets me by?” He shook his head, doe eyes peering into yours with such adoration. “Trust. I trust you to always come back to me, safe. In turn, I need you to trust me to do my job and take extra pre-caution with every decision I do in the field. Can you do that for me, sweet boy?”

He slowly nodded his head. “I—I can do that.”

“Next time, let’s also communicate any small or big concerns, okay Spence? I’d rather not feel lost and confused the next time a problem arises.”

“As long as you promise the same to me.”

You smiled before nodding your head in return. “Of course.”

He leaned in. Kissing those pouty lips that had been calling for him like a siren ever since the disagreement ensued.

———

“Alright,” Hotch’s no-nonsense voice called everyone’s attention. “The group of unsubs are currently holding two civilian hostages inside this very building. Morgan, Y/N, and Prentiss, you take the left entrance. Reid and Rossi, you’re with me at the right entrance.” Numerous affirmatives were echoed. “They’re armed and have proven themselves capable of killing. Vests tight and keep vigilant.”

Footsteps dispersed for preparation but before you could escape from Spencer’s line of sight, he pulled you close, adjusting your vest and making sure it was strapped tight around your chest.

“Be careful out there.”

A small smile graced your face before quickly disappearing from the thick tension all around the vicinity. “Always am. You too.”

“I mean it, princess. I need you back in one piece so I can marry you.”

You sucked in a breath. “W-what?”

“This wasn’t how I planned it but—” Hotch’s voice interrupted his ramblings. Reid. He turned and nodded once before returning his gaze back to your gobsmacked face. “—you did say to communicate right away so I love you and I want to marry you—” he squeezed your clammy hand into his. “—will you say yes?”

Reid. Another commanding voice coming from the unit chief.

Spencer smiled then before beginning his steps back to his position. It felt exhilarating to finally be the one throwing the curveball at you, no wonder you found joy in it—no matter how unconscious you were doing it. “I’ll hear your answer after, okay?”

“Oh, we’re so talking about this later.” you narrowed your eyes in return, taking steps to your opposite position. “Yes, Reid. See you later.”

Spencer looked down at his muddied sneakers, eyes gleaming from mirth and soul flying high unbound before taking a deep breath, schooling everything away and focusing all of him to catching these group of unsubs.

Maybe it wasn’t so bad not having everything go according to plan. After all, didn’t they usually say that the best things usually come when he’d least expect it? And you were the perfect definition of that phrase. His own beautiful disruptor and he wouldn’t have you in any other way.

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

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