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sectumsempraaa · 7 months ago

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Flames on Thin Ice

Pairing: jealous!Theo Nott x fem!Ravenclaw!reader

Word count: 2.9k

TW: cursing, jealousy, ridiculous amounts of yearning and fluff

Based on this request! Thank you :)

Summary: You and Theo Nott are something much more than friends, but just less than lovers. He would very much like to change that, as he’s no longer able to control his rapidly intensifying feelings for you. But when Slughorn’s exclusive Christmas party approaches and Draco Malfoy asks you to be his date, the limits of Theo’s jealousy are tested like never before.

“Come here, bella,” Theo smiles and gestures towards you as he strides over to where you stand, surrounded by holiday decor. He approaches you from the side, wrapping his arms around your waist and lifting you gently. A blush spreads across your cheeks as you hook an arm around his shoulders, placing the star on top of the Slytherin common room holiday tree.

Decorating the common room tree is one of your favorite parts of winter at Hogwarts. This year, the Slytherins asked for your help after hearing how amazing you did with the Ravenclaw tree for your own house.

Theo can’t say the same, but he’d do just about anything at this point to spend time with you. His crush on you has blossomed the last couple of months, your pull on him amplifying each day. Any opportunity he sees to touch you, help you, or make you laugh, he takes. No question.

“Grazie, cara mio.” You respond, looking down into his heavy, perfect blue eyes. You always try to speak to him in Italian whenever you can, picking up on his more common phrases. You’re the only one that goes to that kind of effort for him and he notices it. God, does it notice it.

He spins you around, earning a series of giggles from you before he lets you back down on your feet. Your hand lingers on his for a few seconds, which feels like an eternity to him. If only he could kiss you right here, right now. But the graze of your fingertips on his palm is enough for him, for now. He’ll take what he can get.

You step back, turning towards the fully decorated tree, ready to show off your hard work. He wants to watch with you but he can’t bear to when you’re looking this beautiful, this stunning. His eyes obsess over your every perfect feature, his eyes drinking in your essence.

This might be my favorite outfit of hers. The plaid skirt, the knee-high socks, the cream colored sweater. No- the one from my birthday, when she wore my necklace…

Oblivious to his longing stare, you take out your wand, tucked into the waistline of your skirt.

“Lumos,” you say, a look of wonder and awe blossoming on your face as the tree lights up. The warm glow makes you gasp, the sudden joy jolting through you.

Your hands quickly grab his bicep, pulling yourself towards him. A squeal of happiness escapes you, prompting a laugh from Theo. His smile, your favorite smile, triggers your heart to flutter. The way you’re looking at him sends his mind spiraling.

Gods, she is perfect.

It takes him a second to recover from the profound effect your touch has on him. His skin burns like fire, his heart aching for you.

I’ll win her. I’ll win her so she can spin around in my arms again next year.

Your soft voice brings him out of his thoughts. “What do you think? Is it good enough?” you ask, your eyes contemplating your creation.

He reluctantly removes his arm from your hands, wrapping it around your shoulders and pulling you close to his side, your head resting gently on his shoulder. In a moment of risk, he drops it to your waist, his fingers fiddling with your sweater. Your face quickly turns to his in surprise.

His pulse stops, his breath with it as your hand slowly makes its way to his chest, resting above his heart. Your head tilts up to meet his dark stare, your eyes locking in on each other.

“It is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever laid my eyes on.” He says, his voice barely above a whisper. It is glaringly apparent he isn’t talking about the tree anymore.

You swore his head leaned down, his lips parted slightly, his hand pressed your whole chest against his, before-

“Y/L/N! Where is that pretty little Ravenclaw?” You hear a familiar, yet obnoxious, distant voice crawling its way into the common room from the dungeon corridor. A disgruntled Theo shuts his eyes in defeat.

You’ve got to be fucking kidding.

He notices the look of disappointment etched in your features, it’s enough to send a pang of longing and frustration slamming into him. His heart drops as your body detaches from his, putting a space between you. His side feels colder without your warmth against it.

I had her.

Draco rounds the corner, a skip in his step as he confidently strides over to you. His eyes light up with glee as Theo’s darken, seeing red. Draco takes your hands in his, kissing each one before speaking.

“My lovely little Y/L/N, just the girl I was looking for. I’ve got something to ask you,” he starts, your eyes widen as he gets down on one knee, keeping your hands clasped with his. A quick glance at Theo shows you the tension in his jaw, the dagger-like stare he casts on Draco.

Why’s she looking at him like that? That look was for me not even a minute ago.

“I have been personally invited to Slughorn’s holiday party and I couldn’t think of a more perfect date to bring. Will you be my plus one?”

The look of hesitancy on your face prompts him to continue. “Consider it the best Christmas present you could give me.”

Normally, Draco wouldn’t even entertain the idea of taking anyone outside his own house. But the Slytherin crew has a soft spot for you, so much so that the common room door doesn’t argue when you say their password anymore.

You giggle, taking a step closer to Draco. “Well, I do love a Christmas party.”

His bright, smug smile draws you in as he stands up and pulls you in for a hug, resting his head on top of yours. “I know you do.” He smirks.

He shares the time and dress code details with you before heading off to meet up with Blaise for dinner. You look around, only to find you’re alone in the common room. Theo left, admittedly, before he blew a fuse.

—

The next couple of weeks are interesting to say the least. Theo has been pining for your attention, trying to distract you from the other boys as much as he can. But mostly, he’s been keeping an eye on Malfoy.

In one instance, Draco came to Theo’s dorm, where he knew you were hanging out, to ask what you were going to wear to the party. “Hmm, we should match, I think.” He suggested.

Nope. Not today, mate. And certainly not in my fucking bedroom.

Theo suddenly picked you up off his bed bridal style, physically removing you from Draco’s presence before either of you could agree on an accent color.

“Theo!” You yelp, wrapping your arms around his neck and peeking back at Draco. “Where are we going?”

“Anywhere that prat isn’t.” He responds with haste.

In another instance, Draco sat across from you in the Great Hall during breakfast and gifted you a pair of earrings for the event. “They sparkle almost as much as you, love.”

The gesture brought a heat to your cheeks that had Theo making fists under the table. He can’t stand to see you flustered over Draco’s pathetic attempts to buy your affection.

Thin ice, Malfoy. Thin. Fucking. Ice.

Draco continues. “My mother picked them out special. She was beside herself when I told her I was taking you.”

At this, Theo happened to “accidently” spill his tea directly into Draco’s lap, earning him a public scolding. But the words go through one ear and out the other. He remains unscathed, because Draco left, and you’re all his again. And really, that’s all he cares about.

—

The day of the party arrives, one Theo has been absolutely dreading. No amount of self-soothing could keep his mind from imagining the shit Malfoy would pull without him there to interfere.

In your dorm, Theo watches as you fix your hair and apply your makeup. He observes your every move, trying to etch each one into his memory, noting all the things you do that drive him crazy.

The way she bites her lip while putting on mascara.

How she hums Christmas carols while pinning up her hair.

When she asks me what shade of eyeshadow she should wear.

When you finish dolling yourself up, you change into your dress in the bathroom. A pout of frustration escapes you as you realize your hands can’t reach the zipper. You decide to ask for Theo’s assistance.

When you walk back into your dorm, you’re met with a completely awe-struck Theo, his tired eyes grow wider than you thought they could even go. The boy is seemingly paralyzed by you.

Holy bloody hell.

His trance-like gaze runs over the lace neckline, down the curves of your bodice, and over the shimmering gown. He’s never seen you dressed up before, and you have him wondering why it took so long to.

“Spin.” He demands, begs. “Please.”

You slowly turn for him, a small smile adorning your face. The gown flows like water, splaying out as it twirls around you. You have to admit, both the dress and his reaction are feeding your confidence.

Nothing matters in the whole world except for her.

He stands, having noticed the undone zipper in the back. He saunters towards you, jumping at the opportunity, his eyes unwavering from your body. He places his hands on your hips, turning your back towards him.

Can I just marry her now? Can she wear this to our wedding?

You feel his soft breath grace your neck, a whisper of affection envelopes you. “Mia bella ragazza,” he says, each word dripping with pure adoration. He zips you up with the utmost delicacy and care.

He wraps his left arm around you, pulling your back to his chest. He sways you both back and forth, imitating a slow dance.

“Y/N.” Theo says, ready to pour his heart out for you. Right here, right now. As your eyes meet his, you share a moment of yearning, his lips dead set on meeting yours…

Until an abrasive knock that could only belong to Draco breaks your stare from his.

Please don’t take her away from me now.

He, of course, opens the door without being granted entry. You slide away from Theo’s embrace, slipping on your heels and grabbing your cover-up. Draco beckons you to him, grabbing a hand and twirling you around.

The sound of your laughter plagues Theo. You link an arm with Draco, tucking into his side. Theo’s mind silently explodes with jealousy, trying to identify everything wrong with the sight in front of him.

He looks like dirt compared to her.

Draco reaches to fix one of the earrings he gave you, setting it just right. Heat begins to course through Theo’s very being.

I’d rather eat slugs than see my Y/N on his arm.

Draco leads them out, nodding a silent goodbye to Theo on the way towards the door. “I think we look rather dashing together, don’t you agree?” he asks, his ego caking each word.

Theo takes a deep breath, trying to maintain his composure as he’s left in silence. He vowed to himself that he would behave for you, for this one night. For your sake.

But just before you leave his line of sight, you steal one last, desperate glance at Theo. And that’s enough to break his vow.

—

I can’t believe she makes me this stupid.

Theo thinks as he peers into Slughorn’s party from a tiny window. His feet perched on the ledge, several feet above the ground. His knuckles go white as his fingers grip the wall tightly.

He spots you next to Draco at the table, noticing his hand covering yours. The students engage in lively conversation, mostly Malfoy telling boring stories about his father.

Though Theo tries hard to keep his focus on Malfoy, he can’t help but obsess over your breathtaking beauty.

His ears recognize the first few notes of the song you were humming earlier coming over the speakers.

You gasp and whip your head towards Draco, your eyes lit up with excitement, your hands tugging his suit jacket. “This is my favorite song!! Can we dance?” You ask him.

He stands and offers you his hand, which you take immediately. “All night, if you’d like, love.”

He doesn’t deserve this. He can barely carry a tune, let alone dance.

Theo hops down from the window, using the moving picture frames as leverage. Once he lands, he finds the back entrance to the party, peering through the sheer curtains.

Good luck pulling this off, Malfoy. I hope she laughs in your face.

But that’s not what happens. In fact, it is hard to deny how absolutely gorgeous you two look together, each step perfectly placed, each twirl calculated. Everyone watches you both sweep across the dance floor with ease, like you’ve rehearsed this a thousand times.

And even worse, it looks like you’re enjoying it. Theo’s hand drags down his face in agony.

Fuck… he’s killing it.

Theo’s inner fire intensifies as Draco’s hand moves to rest on your lower back. Too low for his liking. And the way you’re eating it up drives him mad. Draco leans in near your ear, sharing smirks and whispers with you.

The bloody fool is talking during her favorite song instead of letting her sing.

An idea sparks in Theo’s head, one that would probably disappoint you. But he doesn’t care anymore. Especially as he watches Draco cross the final line by dipping you backwards, his eyes obviously lingering on your chest. When he lifts you back up to him, you hear a faint, boyish voice call from behind you.

“Confundus.”

Suddenly, Draco stumbles over, tripping over his own feet and falling on the floor, bringing you down with him. Slughorn swiftly strides over and accuses Draco of drinking too much champagne, despite your efforts to defend him. When he’s asked to leave, you follow him.

“Are you okay?” You ask, patting down the front of his suit jacket and fixing his hair. He rolls his eyes, shrugging you off and mumbling something to himself about how “Slughorn will pay for this.”

As he sulks away, you find yourself alone in the corridor, sighing and stepping out of your heels. A humming sound emanates from behind you, the familiar tone easily identifiable to your ears. You can’t help but smile as the pieces fall into place.

“Really? Confundus?” You joke, turning your head to the side with a smirk. Theo’s arm wraps itself around your front once again, swaying you in his slow-dance way. What you didn’t expect was the feeling of his lips on your cheek, kissing you ever so softly.

“Si, bella.” He responds, switching to kiss your other cheek. “With the way he drooled on you all night, he’s lucky it wasn’t a Crucio.”

You remove his hand, letting yourself turn to face him. He kicks your heels to the side, allowing you to step closer. Your hand reaches up to caress his cheek, your finger tracing the edge of his jaw.

“Mio bel ragazzo,” you say, lifting yourself up on your tippy toes. He pulls away, catching you off guard, grounding yourself to the floor again.

“I’ve waited forever to kiss you, Y/N. Dreamed of it, even.” He pauses for a moment, gathering his words, his finger twirling around one of your stray curls. “Let me.”

The blush on your face hits a crimson peak, nodding a silent grant of permission. Your heart races as both his hands firmly cup your face, pulling you gently until you feel his lips join yours, melding into each other.

The kiss is long and earned, his lips moving against yours with intention. When he finally breaks for a breath, you tug on his collar, quickly crashing your lips back onto his. A low moan travels its way from his mouth to yours, his hands now wrapped securely around your waist. Good luck getting this boy to let go.

You pull away, letting Theo rest his forehead on yours, a stupid smile adorning his face as he processes the moment.

“For what it’s worth, I told Narcissa I wanted those earrings. I think she almost felt bad that I had to go with him.” You laughed, playing with the jewelry on your ears.

“He’s not allowed near you- no, he’s not even allowed in the same room as you from now on,” Theo says, a shadow of the tension in his jaw lingers. “Or it’s lights out for him.”

You both break into a fit of laughter at the threat, leaning on each other for balance.

You pause for a second, his eyes brimming with unspeakable joy. Your hand finds the back of his neck, grazing it with your fingertips, feeling the resulting chills it sparks on his skin.

“There’s only one room I want to be in right now, and I’d like you to take me to it.” You whisper, Theo’s expression becoming eager as he immediately lifts you up, swiftly carrying out your order. You could tell him to burn down a city and he’d do it for you.

“Am I dreaming this, bella? Am I really taking the most extraordinary person who’s ever lived back to my dorm?” He asks, relishing the feel of your arms around his neck and the scent of your vanilla perfume encompassing him.

“Wow, the most extraordinary person? Ever?!” You giggle, your voice coated with exaggeration. “What does that make you?” You ask him.

“The luckiest.”

🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍

#slytherin boys #slytherin boys x reader #draco malfoy #theodore nott #theo nott #theodore nott x reader #theo nott x reader #slytherin fanfiction #slytherin boys fic #slytherin

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hoseoksluna · 10 months ago

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ROSÉ | jjk

pairing: boyfriend!jungkook x wine!oc

genre: smut

word count: 5.7k

summary: on your first dinner date, your boyfriend brings you a small gift—too bad you're too horny to appreciate it.

pinterest board: wine

warnings: a bit of drunkenness, a mention of inner child healing, oc teases jungkook and oc is horny as fuck, dom/sub dynamics, wine!jk, provider jk..., daddy issues, punishment, spanking, food used during intercourse, oral sex (f. and m. receiving), dirty talk, a mention of a sex toy & a mention of a plushie in a sexual context, raw sex, brattiness, jk and oc smoke together

note: OH GOD—IT'S FINALLY HERE. SLFJSLDFJS. A REQUESTED DRABBLE about wine!oc and jungkook. this was so fucking fun to write and i was so hot and bothered from this that i had to take a break............ yeah uhm anyways, I HOPE YOU LIKE THIS. ENJOY READING AND LEMME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK ANONYMOUSLY IN MY INBOX. I NEED YOUR THOUGHTS. PLS AND THANK YOU. ₊˚⊹♡

side note: jk in the first pic made me fucking die. and other things....

The rosy pink nectar has, undeniably, gone to your head.

Your empty wine glass is illuminated by the setting sunlight spilling past your shoulder, reaching its yellow, warm fingers to the tips of your boyfriend’s that rest lazily on the white cloth of the table. You’re woozy, in a lighthearted mood—so much that even the world has lost its heft and all you can sense is the sluggish process of your absorption. You’re engrossed in the way the spring coalesces with the beginning of summer—in the warm evening wind ruffling your curls, tickling your bare shoulders, in the darkening hues of the sky, pinks and violets, in the gray smoke of Jungkook’s cigarette interlacing with the slightly sultry air. You can see it in his eyes, the unfolding of it all. And perhaps you’re tipsy or perhaps you’re just brazenly and foolishly falling in love, because you’re aware that if the man weren’t sitting in front of you, none of these things wouldn’t have caught your attention in such a devastatingly profound way.

He has made you feel so safe. By simply and beautifully laying his feelings bare. To you and for you. Created a haven for you to dwell in, for you to grow in and explore all the dark and light corners of you that have merely seldom seen the face of the sun. How could you not indulge in a little bit of alcohol, when you’re protected in that place of security? Let your girlishness swim a little, refresh herself, enjoy herself?

You’re glowing. You always had been, but your shimmers have gained a new intensity to their twinkles, keeping Jungkook’s liquid stars warm and taken care of inside of you. Their blunt points have carved you into someone else entirely, too. Joyous, cool-headed and absolutely and irrevocably self-assured. Fearless. And his hands have reached deep within and caressed the head of your inner child, healing her and washing her clean, giving her everything she ever lacked. Love, attention, care and validation. Whenever you remember that you never wanted him to get a glimpse of your soul, bile rises in your throat and your stomach hurts.

He saved you. Healed you. Through and through. Gave you his control.

It stirs your never-ending awe that he has managed to do this in a month, and you want to celebrate it. You think now is quite the perfect occasion for it as it’s your first dinner date since you’ve become exclusive. Having spent most of your time at each other’s places fucking, partying and fucking some more, it’s nice to be out, alone with him, that is—and it’s nice as fuck to be out with your boyfriend. The sex has become so different with the label and the rawness of his feelings. And the thing about Jungkook that gets you the most, that strengthens the realm he invented for you, is that once his emotions overflow, the stream of its wine doesn’t stop pouring. The moment he confessed his love for you, ever since then you sense it expressed in everything he does—in the way he greets you in the day, in his tight, burning embrace, in the tenderness with which he holds your hand or kisses it, the relentless, great thought and consideration he puts in the choices he makes for you on the daily. Whether it’s the fatuous things he buys you that mean the world to you, the way he never neglects bunny and incorporates her in everything you do together or… the sex.

Fuck, the sex alone has taken over your life so vividly and drastically that it consumes your brain. There, in that environment, is where the wine of his emotions is the raciest. He’s not ashamed to cry, letting those liquid pearls trickle down your collarbones, quenching the thirst of his liquid stars as he fucks you dumb and enjoys every second of it. He’s not afraid to be loud either. To talk you through your orgasm with even more care and detail than you were accustomed to in the past.

He’s become boundless. And it’s the most attractive thing you’ve ever seen in your life.

God, you’d be crazy not to let yourself fall for him—

“I got you dessert,” Jungkook husks, digging his fingers into the pocket of his pants while his other digits draw close to his mouth. He takes a drag of his cigarette, crinkling his eyes so the smoke wouldn’t get into them and you beam at him with a fire that’s more scorching than the sun’s ever been in centuries, heart doing somersaults at the thought of him thinking of you and spending money on you again. And, also, at how hot he looks while he smokes.

Your love language must be gift-giving. You don’t know what else to connect it to, the joy that envelops your entire being whenever he gives you something. It doesn’t even have to be expensive, nor does he have to pay for it at all. Drawings have become your favorite keepsakes—drawings of his Miffy bunny, drawings of flowers, of you. You’ve hidden them away in a box along with everything he’s ever brought you, except the white bunny ring because you wear it daily and one small, particular drawing that you’ve put inside your glittery phone case.

A cutesy marker sketch of him and you. His arm around your shoulders. Bunny sitting on your laps in the middle, as if she were your own child. Cheeks big and bubbly, pink and twinkling. Your curls the way you wear them; his mullet. A perfect depiction of the pair of you. You gaze at it every single day—prefer to now put your phone face down because of it.

You’re tracing it now with the pad of your finger as you wait for him to reveal your mystery gift to you. The bulby heads, the cheeks, Miffy’s ears. Jungkook puts out his cigarette, puffing out the smoke, away from you, and once he’s done, he taps the back of your hand. Turns it over and spreads out your fingers, inserting, at a snail's pace, something round but slender at the same time, smiling adoringly at you.

What a sight to behold. It steals, fleetingly, your attention away from his hand.

Slicked back mullet, twinkles taking laps in his soft eyes, blushed cheekbones and stretched, pouty mouth, shiny with his liquid love. Long neck that you’d like to devour now, the broadness of his shoulders and chest that could come second as a plain, dark beige shirt accentuates his hard work at the gym.

Oh, fuck. Your nipples pebble against your carmine tube top.

Jungkook withdraws his hand and with blurry eyes, you look at the thing he placed in your palm.

Chupa Chups. Strawberry and cream.

Your mouth parts and it’s a concoction of a gasp and a sound of endearment when the realization that he got you a lollipop sinks in. Your heart flips and does a head stand. Lips round into a pout, drunk eyes softening, its twinkles growing in size and light. It’s like he gave you something golden, when in fact it costs a few wons, but to you it’s exactly that. Something so precious.

You give him an air kiss, bouncing in your seat in joy, fingers already destroying the wrapper. “Thank you so…”

Your brows furrow as the wrapper remains intact. You do a bad, bad job of picking at the tape around the slender stick, your long manicured hands absolutely useless—and the cause of your frustration. You puff out an angry gust of breath, trying harder to get to the sweet delight and it’s at that moment that your boyfriend takes it from your hands with a deep chuckle.

“You silly boo, this is how you do it.” Jungkook pinches the wrapper around the stick and he merely, in a few swift motions, twists the ball until it lets go. He scrunches it in his fists and throws it away in the ashtray. Smirks smugly, leans his elbows on the table, draws close to you. You mirror his position, get to him almost nose to nose, and his smirk deepens, tongue darting out to lick across his lips. You do the same, eyeing the round pinkness in his hand, the sexual attraction and its tension soaring high between you.

Without your hands, you could put it in your mouth, mimic the way you do it on his own tip and make him lose his mind a little bit. It’s right here, an inch away and you dip your head towards it, a magnetic pulling drawing you naturally to it. Sense his gaze on you, sense his delight, sense the flashback glimmering across the wholeness of him. But before you could wrap your lips around it, he moves it out of your reach.

“No,” Jungkook murmurs, breath slightly ragged, holds it up in front of your face, watches as you go cross-eyed a little bit. Hums at the sight, quietly enough for only you to hear. “If you want it, ask for it nicely.”

His puffy lips being so close to you, you desire to kiss him—cheeks flushing a deeper shade of pink, his oh-so-loved dominance fucking with your drunkenness and your brain, body altogether. You tip your head to the side, flutter your lashes, make your eyes big and smile at him as sweetly as you can.

He coos, validating you, and it is a force that makes you feel safe enough to submit to him like a small animal to its father. Safe enough to want to get under the table and make him feel really, really good, too.

“Can I have the lollipop, please?”

He groans, still quietly, and your panties drench immediately. You widen your eyes at him, feeling your slick, pursing your lips to scold him silently. He just laughs, amused by it all, and the sound of his joy fills you with elation.

One that darkens, when he asks, “Where?”

You lick your lips, taking in the question, struck by it. Letting your mind wander, the places where you want it, except your mouth, is on your nipples and your clit. Nicely sweet and sticky—for him to clean up, for him to enjoy. Your dewiness soaks the material of your panties and your body begins to yearn for any kind of friction. You’re not sure whether you’re able to stick around in your chair, acting as if nothing’s wrong—acting as if you’re not stupendously horny.

“In my mouth.”

Jungkook makes a noise of appreciation and you’re so frustrated by all those sounds he makes that you want to dig your nails in his arms and make him pay for it. Even more so, when he plunges the lollipop into his mouth and his lips pucker around it, inciting the butterflies in your tummy to go absolutely fucking berserk. You place your hand on his bicep, nails ready to attack, but then he pulls out the treat with a pop, angling it at your mouth.

“Open.”

You thought he stole it from you, but he did no such thing. He wetted it for you, like a father for its child. You’re stupefied to the point that you don't even realize that you’re leaving a mark on the linen material of your seat.

You do open your mouth for him, however.

He twists the ball on your tongue, expecting you to close your mouth around the stick, but you don’t. No, you swirl that muscle around the candy, deepening your gaze, smirking. Jungkook stills, clenches his strong jaw. Darkness flicks across his eyes and he narrows them. First warning.

You pretend you don’t see it.

Closing your mouth and encasing your hand around his, you move the lollipop to the side of your cheek, acting as if it were his dick. And when you bob your head once, Jungkook tugs on the stick, wanting to pull it out, but you don’t let him, keeping it caged between your teeth. It only drives you to bob your head again.

“Stop,” he says, voice calm, deep and serious—terribly deadly. Withdraws his hand and leans back, watching you with a predatory gaze, one that makes you even wetter. “Or we’re going home.”

That’s exactly what you want. Instructions clear.

You open your mouth and do a show of swirling your tongue around the ball, only this time you flick the muscle against it. Jungkook grips the table, knuckles white, and you laugh, which you soon realize was a grave mistake.

“You think it’s funny?” he questions you, staring you down with a look that should frighten you, but it merely turns you on. You suck on the lollipop, the dulciness of strawberries suffusing your senses. “I’ll bend you over this fucking table, lift up that slutty little skirt and spank you in front of everyone.”

You pull out the candy with an exaggerated pop. Scowl at him. As though his words didn’t affect you the way that they did—as though you’re not squeezing your thighs together, trying to gain that friction you so desperately need. “Why are you so angry?”

He looks away for a moment, laughing silently. Nods his head at your wine glass. “You finished with your wine, baby?”

It’s this pleasantness that you hear in this voice that spreads goosebumps across your skin. Feigned sugariness—the sunlight right before the clouds come in and thunder strikes; the calm before the storm.

Good thing you’re dressed for the rain and ready to sing in it.

You nod your head and Jungkook clicks his tongue, grabs you by your hand whilst he pulls out his wallet. You accompany him as he walks over to the bar, black card ready between his fingers. Waits to be noticed. Gives you a look over and fixes your skirt, pulling the hem down.

Pays for you. Smiles down at you as he pockets his wallet.

And then, he drags you to his car.

Perhaps it’s the fresh air, perhaps it’s the briskness in his walk and the tight hold around your hand, but all intoxication evaporates from your body, leaving only your stained elation and neediness. You can’t help your smile. Think it must be sewn in at this point. By his own diligent fingers.

A wind blows in, pulling your hair to your front and Jungkook pins you against his car. Tits squished against the passenger side, elbows pressed together. Eyes wide, you check your surroundings and find no one in sight. Only swaying trees, buildings of apartments, lamps illuminating the dark street. You relax right away, trusting Jungkook that he’s on the lookout and knows what he’s doing.

He grinds his hips against your backside and you moan at the feeling of his hard length. With his free hand, he brushes your hair to one side and begins to pepper kisses along the curve of your neck, nuzzling his face in. Hovers his lips above your ear when he says, “You feel how hard you made me with your little show?” You nod, quickly, wanting more of him, wanting him inside of you. Push your hips back; twirl them in slow circles. Jungkook hisses. “I guess you really do want that spanking. Where’s your lollipop?” You show him your hand, where your treat remains uneaten and dry. He takes it from you and you turn your head in time to see him sink it into his mouth, placing it on the side of his mouth like you did. “Get inside the car.”

Jungkook opens the door for you and forces you in, closing it with a harsh thud. As he rounds the vehicle, he makes eye contact with you and your tummy flips in response.

Fuck.

Nothing happens in a millisecond once he’s seated, but then he grabs your cheeks, squishing them in the way he likes, and kisses you hard, lollipop in hand. Moving his mouth against yours, his tongue only briefly greets you before he pulls away. “Naughty fucking girl. You’re lucky that I love you because otherwise…” He doesn’t finish his sentence with words, but with another kiss, breathing against you, grunting when it’s you this time that slips the tongue inside, playing with him the same way you played with the dessert he got you. “Fuck, you’re gonna be the death of me. I’m gonna put you in your fucking place, make you remember how to behave in public. You’ve forgotten, haven't you?”

You don’t have time to react, you merely bite your lip so hard that it aches. Jungkook pushes you back and yanks your leg between his, lifting your skirt. Then, he hovers his palm above your ass, the other forearm resting on the top of the seat, lollipop dangling near your head. He hides his smirk behind his effort to flatten his lips.

And when he spanks you, you don’t roll your eyes back and rasp like your body naturally wants you to. No, you hold the eye contact and you take the pain, letting it course through your body, reveling in it. He doesn’t say anything as he keeps going, alternating between slapping your now reddened cheeks and the back of your thigh. Doesn’t even stroke the skin to alleviate the burn. He solely bores his gaze into yours, his cock rock hard against your leg. Another set of words are exchanged, silently, deeply, teaching you your lesson in tandem with the hits, burying it to a great depth inside you.

And then he finishes with a nasty kiss, but his hand resumes causing you pain. You’ve lost count of how many spanks you’ve taken.

It’s like you’ve woken up from a trance. It reverberates throughout your entire body and it’s now that you allow your body to vocally react. You whine, rounding your mouth in a pout, so different from the one on the dinner date. And you remember your manners—perceive how wrong it was to tease him, even though a good half of you still takes delight in it.

“It hurts,” you whisper, nudging your lips against him and he gives you your last spank—the hardest of them all. The infliction makes you flutter your eyes shut and Jungkook brings them back to him by caressing his knuckles down your flushed cheek.

“Good, you remember how to behave now?” he asks, halting his movement, such piercing intensity in his irises that drive you to nod your head. “That’s my good little girl.” Taps the side of your thigh. “Let Daddy make it better now.”

You open your legs for him and Jungkook pushes your soaked panties to the side, revealing your little bedewed seashell. He hums at the sight of her, pops the lollipop back inside his mouth. Collects your arousal by swirling the pads of his middle and ring finger around your hole, eyes flicking from your pussy to your own, groaning when he comes into contact with your swollen clit, rubbing slow circles. You whimper, bucking your hips, needing him to go faster, needing to come.

Jungkook shakes his head, disapproving. “You take what I give you or I’ll stop.” Lifts his hand to express the gravity of his threat and you help, wrapping both hands around his and putting it back on your bundle of nerves. He chuckles at your desperation, giving you the same circles, though now firmer.

Waves the lollipop near your lips. You open your mouth, instinctively, and he plunges it into your mouth for a mere second before he pulls away, growling at the sound that comes out. He does it again, fucking you with it in a way, just to hear that pop and he’s so pleased with it that he sinks those two fingers inside your heat, fully, in one ego. Keeps them there. Teases you. Hovers the lollipop out of your reach and you decide to fuck with him back. Darting out your tongue, you whirl it around the flat side and he swears, moaning, giving to you at last.

He latches his mouth onto your neck, starting the drill of his fingers. “Fuck, you’re so hot.”

He picks up the speed so rapidly that you scream, squeezing your eyes shut, the pleasure permeating your body so vastly that you quiver all over. Grab a hold of his hair, pulling on it and then—

Then, he withdraws his fingers. Ruins your orgasm.

You pant, trying to catch your breath. “Please, Jungkook, please—”

He nudges his nose against yours. “What, baby?”

“I need to come, please.”

Jungkook tuts, kissing you once. “I thought we could play.” Plunges the lollipop into your mouth to wet it. Shows it to you, just to see you go cross-eyed again. Moans. “Where do you want it, hm?”

Ever the angel that makes your fantasies come to life. You wrap your fingers around his hand, butterflies swarming in your tummy. Lead him towards your still clothed breasts. “Here.” Take him to your drooling pussy. “And here.”

Jungkook makes a sound of approval. Descends his fingers a little lower, to your other hole, circles it. “What about here?”

You giggle, but you shake your head. The idea may be intoxicating, however reality is much different. There’s a risk to putting any sweetened food inside, one you don’t want to deal with.

Jungkook smiles at you, pushes your seat back and slides it in the same direction. Crawls over you and you feel so feminine, so sexy underneath him. Nipples perked under your top, breasts full and spilling. You arch your back towards him and Jungkook drags his thumb from your bottom lip, to your chin, neck, the dip of your collarbones until he reaches the hem of your Tom and he tugs it down so harshly that you can’t contain your very own concoction of a gasp and moan.

Lollipop in mouth, one hand propped by your head, the other squeezes your breast hard, nearing it, fingers pinching your nipple. Makes the flesh as red as your ass. You can tell he likes the view by the way he coos, but then he wipes all your thoughts away, when he sucks hard on the candy and swirls it around your stiffened nub, gaze flicked to yours to watch your reaction.

The pleasure is so vivid, so dizzying—and for him, you let it paint your face in all its colors. Brows scrunched, bedroom eyes, mouth parted, puffing out desperate breaths. Jungkook sucks it again and smears his saliva around your other nipple, taking his time, slapping the ball once against it, making you hiss.

“It feels so good,” you murmur, sinking your fingers into the longer length on the back of his hair, bringing his mouth to yours. You kiss him with a verve that causes him to groan. You swallow that sound, satisfied.

He grins at you. “I bet.”

Dips his head and envelops that sugar-coated nub with his warm lips, sucking it hard. His groan spreads there, deepens there and you arch your back even more, pulling his head to your other nipple so he can do the same thing. Join your other hand to his hair and do whatever you please—turn his head side to side, from one nub to the other—and he lets you, giving you, momentarily, his control. You feel your essence soaking the seat beneath you and you thank the heavens that the fabric is one of leather. You lift his head and try to push it down, but he won’t budge. Stares you down instead, lustfully.

“Where do you want me?” he asks, a wrinkle between brows. “Be a good girl and tell me.” Pops the lollipop back in his mouth.

You sigh, kissing him once on the side of his neck, using your tongue. Make sure you’re looking at him as you reply, “On my clit.”

He moans, eyes woozy, finger on the stick as he sucks the candy, clefts of dimples on either side of his cheeks. You palm his length, your own digits rounding across his tight balls and he whisks his irises back, grinding into your hand. “You want a lickie?”

“Yes, so bad, please.”

He hums and kneels before you, kissing your clit once in greeting. Then, he flattens his tongue and licks a fat stripe across your whole femininity—from your slit, to your swollenness. Hands on your hips, index curled around the lollipop, he holds you steady, prevents you from meeting him, as he stimulates you like this. Up and down, tongue rolling, eyes fixed on you, devouring you. And when he stops to suck your clit, he taps your mouth once with the ball of the lollipop. The act of sucking on something while you’re getting pleasured like this almost throws you over the edge, your body coated in a layer of sweat, but Jungkook withdraws in time. Presses the delight in the middle and rubs small circles, just to prepare you for the big thing. You become so whiny, so loud that his eyes grow in size, watching you in awe.

To reward you for such beauty, he rapidly strums it from side to side, causing you to nearly levitate, but he pins you down. Wetting it and placing it back down, grunting at the aftertaste of you mixed with the sweetness.

And he can’t resist. Can’t hold back. The wrinkle between his brows deepens when he tastes you, licking you all over, tongue stopping occasionally its feast to flick at your clit before he swallows you whole. Grunts, sucks, licks. Eyes closed to savor the taste. The pressure in your core heightens, even more so when he lifts your legs, greedy for the side dish in the form of your other hole. You’re so close that you might burst.

“You taste so fucking good, baby. So sweet. Come on my tongue, please, I want more of you.”

He wants more of your taste.

You come so hard that your orgasm takes you to an open sea, your body floating on calm waves, to and fro, eyes rolled to the sky—to the sunroof—seeing nothing but the elegance of the twinkling stars and deep purple clouds.

“That’s it, baby, so good. That’s my little girl.” He slaps the side of your thigh, bringing you back to him. “Listening so well, learning her lesson, coming so hard. I’m proud.”

His words alone could make you come again, but you’re distracted.

Jungkook unbuttons his pants and pulls out his manhood. Stroking himself, he lines his tip at your mouth. He doesn’t even have to tell you to open up—you do it yourself. Holding it at the base, he stuffs your throat right away, a guttural chuckle emitting out of his mouth when you gag. He pulls out to where you’re comfortable having him and you begin to bob your head, like you did with the lollipop.

“Yes, suck it like that, my love. Daddy loves it when you do that.”

His precum on your tongue, the way he’s holding himself, the position and his words—you moan around him, so out of your mind, so fucked out. And when he fucks your mouth, it turns you on so much that you go cross-eyed.

Jungkook pulls out quickly, as if the sight of it alone was about to make him come. A string of your saliva from his tip drips onto your chest and he slides into your mouth again just to poke your cheek, just to mimic what you did with the lollipop. You whine, liking it so much, to the point that he drills this tender place of yours until he can’t take it enough.

“Turn around.” You try to, but your legs are jelly. He manhandles you to the position he wants—on your knees, tits against the leather, arms around the headrest, the formerly abused cheek against it. “Hold onto it. Too bad we left bunny at home, huh?”

Jungkook runs his cock across your pussy and you grind against it, needing the friction after the way he used you. You whimper for him. “She’s probably wondering where we are right now and why we’re taking so long.”

“I’ll make it up to her.” He presses his length against your clit, encouraging you to use him back. “Rub your pussy like that on me, fuck.” He moves so it’s his tip that stimulates you. You ride him harder, moaning loudly against the leather. “You can make it up to her, too. Can ride her like I know you can. With a vibrator between your legs and hers, hm? How you like the sound of that?”

You’re so close you could come in a second, but you don’t want it like this. You need him inside of you. “Shut up, I’m literally gonna come like this. Fuck me.”

He fists your hair. Pain shoots up your scalp and he ruts into your heat. Fully. Until his pelvis collides with your ass. You scream.

Lips by your ear. “Is this how you talk to your Daddy?” He begins to pump into your little tight hole. Mercilessly. The leather squeaks, a horrible, rapid sound that you can only faintly hear because all that your senses can focus on is his cock. “Your Daddy that loves you so much?”

You come, pathetically. Sea and waves, palm trees that sway. Your legs tremble, but he keeps going, mouthing the shape of your ear.

He tsks. “I’m gonna tell bunny on you. Maybe I’ll be the one who gets to fuck her while you watch.” He gives you a hard stroke, one that is followed by rapid thrusts that scramble your brain. “She’ll be so disappointed to hear how bad you’ve been, but I’ll make sure to tell her how hard I fucked it out of you.”

Lifting you from the leather, he kneads your breasts, placing the lollipop in between and holding it up by squishing them.

“Come on, get your lollipop.” He bounces your tits in his hands, signalizing you that he wants you to do it with your mouth.

But you can’t do it. You come, majestically, your senses leaving you and wafting in the stuffed air of the car. Boneless, you sag in his arms.

Jungkook coos. “You come so well around me that I’ll be good to you. You’re just a cockslut, aren’t you, baby? You just can’t help it, hm?” He puts the lollipop inside your mouth, chasing his so-needed release.

It doesn’t take long for him to find the footsteps into that bliss that you left in your wake. He holds you like this, against him, tits spilling over his forearms as he jackhammers into you so hard that your whole body bounces, shakes and reacts to each grunt, to each whimper, to each kiss he presses onto your skin.

With the little of the brain you have left, you decide to talk him through it—because he fucks you so good.

“Come for me, Daddy, yes, please, fuck. Fill me up with your cum. I want it so bad, I want to feel you—” His cock twitches in you, but he continues, sloppily. “Yes, so good. That’s it. Come for your little girl, Jungkook.” A loud groan. A tight hold. A spurt of his cum inside your walls. You whimper and he fucks it deeper into you, giving you more of his liquid stars. “Jungkook, oh fuck, Jungkook, oh yes.”

And it’s that never-ending litany of his name that helps him chase his high to the fullest. He kisses your neck hard in gratitude for helping him come, marking you, marking this memory.

You stay like this for a little while. Sweaty, sticky, spent, breathing hard—lungs synced.

A warm announcement sneaks to your heart, one that screams it into the drowsy skies once Jungkook pulls out of you, turns you around and, stealing your candy, kisses you.

An announcement that you’re deeply and irrevocably in love with him.

“You sounded just like me.” He finishes your lollipop for you, chewing the small bulby head as he dresses you and his cum spills onto your panties.

Your smile is dopey, satisfied and you’re ready for sleep to take you, but Jungkook gets out of the car for a smoke. You think you need one, too, after what you’ve experienced together, and so you follow him out into the night on wobbly legs.

He leans against his car, a cigarette in his mouth, one hand cupping the fire as he flicks his lighter to life. You wait until he puffs out the smoke into the air before you fold into the side of his body, stealing his cigarette and inhaling it, giving it back to him.

Jungkook pats your head, rubbing your scalp, chin propped on it. “I didn’t mean what I said. You were perfect. I’m not telling shit to bunny, I promise.”

You smile, fondly. Didn’t take his words seriously, not at all, but you’re grateful for the reassurement regardless. It’s just role-play, nothing else.

“I know, baby,” you say, softly, massaging his stomach, going as far as under his shirt to feel his bare skin—ever so innocently.

“I wanted to fuck you the moment you sat down. You’re just my little helper and because of that I’m glad we’re going home with my cum in your panties,” he whispers, placing the cigarette on your lips, so you can take a drag. “You deserve every drop.”

You feel that familiar ache rooting in your core again, but you don’t think you can take another round. Jungkook lifts your chin, making you look at him. Twinkles, bigger than the ones of the stars up above, living in his soft eyes. That cute nose. Those pouty lips. His silky, dreamy heart that looks out for you and puts you first.

The three words that you’ve never told him before rise up your body and you think now is the perfect occasion to say them.

“I love you.”

Wetness coats his eyes and the twinkles broaden, saturating them with an unfathomable, fulging light. He flicks his cigarette away, presses you closer to him and with his now free hand, he cups your face. Kisses you. For a long, long time.

“I love you.”

BACK to masterlist

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

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my-turn-with-the-batdad · 5 months ago

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imagine being 17, right at that pivotal age where everything feels like it’s finally starting to make sense, but also falling apart all at once. you’re just beginning to grasp who you are and what you want out of life. it’s that strange in-between stage where you’re technically capable of doing adult things—getting a license, figuring out uni, maybe even facing your first real heartbreak—but there’s still a part of you that desperately wants your dad to be there.

now, imagine waking up and realizing that all of that has been stolen from you. Jason didn’t just lose his life—he lost the chance to go through those messy years. those moments where you feel both too big for your skin and too small for the world, where one minute you’re ready to take on everything and the next you’re drowning in self-doubt.

the right to choose his path— that was taken from him in the most brutal way possible.

and that’s what makes the story so tragic. it’s not just about the physical violence or the trauma of resurrection. it’s about missing that crucial time in life when you’re supposed to be figuring out who you are. he never got to experience that liminal space between adolescence and adulthood, where you’re allowed to falter and find your footing.

No, instead, he got the anger, confusion, and betrayal all amplified because he's been thrust into an adulthood that was never really his choice. he was robbed of that transition, and that loss is profound.

Jason Todd’s tragedy isn’t just that he died so young—it’s that he lost the opportunity to live. It’s the haunting realization that he was denied the right to become his own person, and that’s something you can't ever get back.

What Bruce and Jason both mourned, was not who he used to be but who he could have been.

#jason todd #jesus fucking christ #red hood #bruce wayne #dick grayson #tim drake #alfred pennyworth #damian wayne

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yunoclips · 1 year ago

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interruptions

Nerd!Haechan x reader

happy new year ;)

nsfw included

He remembers the first time he saw you. The sun was shining way too brightly and the heat was sweltering. It was a normal day on campus for Haechan. Following his normal routine of eating , studying and then getting to class. Leaving his dorm as quietly as possible trying his best to leave his roommate, Jaehyun undisturbed. Jaehyun was someone that valued his hours of “beauty sleep”.

He remembers the last time he accidentally disrupted Jaehyun’s sleep. It wasn’t a pleasant experience. But none the less he manages to exit successfully. Everything goes as planned. He gets to class without any interruptions. Interruptions are actually something that he rarely ever encounters considering he doesn’t have the most active social life.

Haechan has no friends—Not counting the ones he has online waiting for him in his overwatch server.

But he has no actual friends. The ones that you can go out with. The ones that let you crash at their place just because. The ones that keep you company when you’re lonely.

And while that might sound sad to any other person , it actually doesn’t effect him. Well at least that’s what he believes. He has good grades , a decent place to stay , food filling his belly and a computer than can handle everything else. Who needs friends when you already have the essentials.

Besides friends can drag you down. If he had friends he wouldn’t be able to get to class on time and sit in his favorite spot like he’s doing now.

Some people would consider him a Nerd, and he doesn’t blame them. He gets to class on time every day , always participates , never hands in an assignment late , gets perfect scores and to top it all of he wears these thick rimmed black glasses. Being called a Nerd is expected and he doesn’t mind it at all.

As usual class goes by quickly, with no interruptions of course. Haechan steps out into the sweltering heat once again. Using his hand to shield the sun that blinds his eyes , he starts walking to his next class. Everything goes smoothly with no interruptions. Until he feels something fall out of his back pocket. He turns around quickly and bends down to grab it but when he looks up he stares at the first interruption he’s had in a while.

There you were standing in the middle of the campus looking absolutely dumb founded. The light of the sun reflecting off of your skin perfectly. Your hair was beautiful , bringing out all the profound features of your face. Your body was mesmerizing. He knows he shouldn’t be looking at you like this but he can’t help it when he finds himself staring at your tits. Eyes wandering to your thighs. Every thought that he shouldn’t be having suddenly bombards his mind.

He tries his hardest to look away but something about you is so captivating. Maybe it’s the way you looked so confused. Holding the campus directory out , switching between looking down at it and then looking up to try and pin point your location. If he was a normal person he would’ve walked up to you and offered help. But he isn’t normal.

So he turns around and walks to class quicker than he normally would. That day he was 10 minutes early to class.

The next week was full of interruptions. If it wasn’t bad enough that he couldn’t get the image of you out of his mind. You just so happened to be in the same statistics class as him.

“Great”

Even more distractions for him. Today was the day he finally decided to stop allowing you to cloud his mind. He was just gonna keep his head down and do his work like always. You didn’t even know he existed. How could he be so obsessed with someone that doesn’t even know he exists.

His plans were actually starting to work. He managed to actually get some useful notes down on his paper without pausing mid sentence to daydream about how you would look ontop of him. But as the saying goes — all good things must come to an end. His bubble is popped instantly the moment you walk up to him.

“Hi, my name is y/n” You had this disgustingly bright smile on your face. It wasn’t disgusting because it was a bad smile , it was disgusting because it was so precious that it should be locked away in a safe and hidden from the world. Not just exposed like this in front of so many filthy people.

“ I know this is probably a rude way of introducing myself. But I’m actually quite new to campus.”

How pathetic he must look right now, he thinks to himself. His mouth is hung open and his eyes are drilling holes into yours. Instead of responding he just stares. Not thinking much of it , you continue

“Your name is Haechan right? It’s nice to meet you !”

Taking his limp hand off the desk you intertwine it with yours and shake it before softly placing it back down.

When you touch him he feels something inside of him jump. He doesn’t know if was his heart or his cock. Or both.

Still not receiving any response other than a mindless stare, you keep going.

“I actually came to you for a reason.”

There it goes. What a fool he would be to think you would actually come up to him just because you wanted to be friends. Of course you needed something.

“I was talking to our professor just a minutes ago. I had to explain to him that I was considering dropping this course. Math isn’t one of my strengths and I just can’t deal with the added stress right now. He interrupted me though and told me that there was actually someone in this class that could help me out a bit. Nd now here I am.”

You pause taking a moment to try and read his face. Trying to pick out any kind of reaction but you weren’t receiving any.

“You know , it’s totally fine if you say no. I know this is again , kind of rude and abrupt. If you can’t help I won’t be mad or anythi-“

“No!” He says a little too loud. So loud that a few of the students that were close to him turned their heads quickly just to check if something was wrong.

“Shit, this is why you don’t have any friends. What kind of response was that?” Internally scolding himself.

“I-i mean no, it’s totally fine. I would be honored to help you. I-i mean not honored but glad. Honored sounds kind of creepy. A-am I making this weird , fuck you probably think I’m crazy. I promise I’m not it’s jus-“

Cutting him off , you put your hand on his shoulder and give him a comforting look.

“It’s okay. It’s actually kinda cute.”

Cute. You just called him cute. Something inside of him jumped again , this time it was definitely his cock.

“So how about this Saturday at 1 ? We can meet in the park a few blocks down. It’s supposed to be really nice out. I can bring snacks and a blanket. It’s the least I can do considering you’ll be helping me out with something so short notice.” You finish with a smile painted across your face.

All he can do is nod. Still stuck in a trance , he forces his self to answer. “Y-yea , Saturday is good. I can do Saturday”

“Great ! See you Saturday Haechan”

And just like that you disappear. The rest of Haechan’s day was absolutely unproductive.

When he got home that night, he sprawled across his bed staring at the ceiling in darkness. That same night he jerked himself off with the hand you shook.

Removing his trousers with haste. The little glob of spit wasn’t enough to prevent friction. His hand was moving fast, faster than any other time. He was working so hard that his arm caught a cramp.

His stomach was burning , knots of pure pleasure —and humiliation— forming. Coaxing himself through orgasm after orgasm. His head started to fog , he could hear his own heartbeat ripping through his ears. Mouth hung open in a silent scream. Thighs twitching , toes curled.

Only when his cock started to burn from the friction, did he finally stop. He fell asleep with his cock still in his hand. The only thing he could see in his dreams was you.

The rest of the days leading up to Saturday went by like a blur. When the day finally came Haechan found himself sinking in desperation. For some reason the time leading up to your 1’o clock meet up was incredibly slow. He had made sure to take a nice shower with his good body wash that he spent way too much money on. He did his skin care routine , making sure to add an extra step. He even ironed his clothes , something he never does.

He got to the park 10 minutes early. Although he’s always an early person for no real reason , this time he needed those 10 minutes to prepare himself.

How was he gonna greet you? Was he gonna stumble over his words like an idiot or speak in confidence? How did he look , was his shirt crisp enough? Did he smell fine?

Just as he started to question himself more you walked towards him. That beautiful smile planted on your face , carrying a few bags and blankets. He was in a trance , and just like that everything he spent 10 minutes thinking about instantly disappeared from his mind.

You finally reached him and plopped everything down. Leaning in to give him a hug you noticed how stiff he got. Maybe you should’ve asked first , you say to yourself. But little did you know , that small gesture alone sent blood rushing straight to his cock.

“Fucking hell, get it together.” He says to himself.

“Hi! I’m sorry for having you wait like this. The bus was taking longer than usual” genuine sorriness lacing your voice.

“N-no , it’s fine. I wasn’t here that long”. And just like that a loud wave of silence washes over. He’s just staring at you like you have a spider on your forehead.

“Maybe the hug was actually way to much…” You say to yourself.

“Well… How about we take a seat. I’ll open the blanket.” Breaking the silence. You bend down to start setting up. Shortly after you start, you see the other side of the blanket being spread open. Looking up , you see Haechan bent down to help you. How nice.

The rest of the studying session goes smoothly. You come to learn that Haechan was indeed , very smart. You understood everything he was saying , with the exception of some hardcore things. But you weren’t worried , there was always room for another session with him.

After two long hours goes by , you sit up and pop a few grapes in your mouth. He seems to get the message and turns on his back, leaving the textbook forgotten.

“Let’s take a break.” You propose.

“Okay” Lifting himself up to face you , he continues. “I like breaks , breaks are cool.”

He was so cute , you chuckle silently to yourself.

“How about we tell each other one thing about ourselves. It can be anything.”

“O-okay” hesitance evident in his voice.

“I’ll start… I have this obsession with Kiwis. I know you’re probably thinking that I’m being over dramatic but no. I genuinely cannot go a single day without having one. It could be the middle of the night and I would literally wake myself up just to grab a kiwi , then go back to bed. It’s really weird I know… Actually you’re the first person that I’ve told. I guess today is your lucky day” Finishing off with a giggle.

He feels like a pervert when the sound of your giggling goes through his ears and runs straight down to his cock.

Clearing his throat , trying to calm himself down. He starts to speak.

“My name isn’t Haechan. I mean it is Haechan but my actual name isn’t. It’s Donghyuck , but only my mom calls me that.”

Donghyuck. What a nice name. It rings in your ears like the sound of wind chimes.

“Donghyuck.. I like it , I like it a lot actually. Would it be fine if I called you that ?”

At that moment he became even more obsessed with you than before. If that was even possible.

“Yea. I’d like that actually.” For the first time in a while , his heart is filled with warmth.

“Well...Donghyuck. This was really nice. I should get going though , it’s getting dark out here and I don’t wanna get caught at the bus stop. How bout we do this again next week? Same place, same time ?”

“Yes.” Answering almost too quickly.

“I mean , yes that’s fine with me. Same place, same time.”

Giving him a nod with a smile accompanying it , you get up. He follows after you, helping you pack up the snacks and the blanket. After you finish you give him one final hug. Leaning up to whisper in his ear. “Thank you again , Donghyuck.”

And before he gets the chance to react you walk off. Leaving him there in shock with a painfully erect cock in his pants. It takes him 2 minutes to finally move and pick up his backpack from the floor. When he starts walking he almost trips over something. He looks down and it was your perfume. The same perfume that you use in class everyday. The perfume that smells like flower petals with hints of sweet fruit and a pinch of spice. The same perfume that he smelt when you whispered in his ear.

He leans down to pick it up. Staring at it for a few seconds he decides to just put it in his bag. Any normal person would’ve just quickly given it to you considering the bus stop was literally down the street. But Donghyuck is not a normal person.

That night when he gets home , he does something so perverted. Something he’d never tell a soul about. He pulls out your perfume and sprays it all over his stuffed bear that he won at a raffle. Not even taking the time to get naked , he humps the toy with sloppy, inexperienced thrusts. His glasses fog up from the warmth of the room. His face is sweaty and sticky. He had drool seeping out the corners of his mouth. Mind gone completely blank.

He came so hard, that he blacked out.

When he regained consciousness two things were coursing through his mind. One of those things was him praying that his roommate didn’t hear him fucking himself silly. The other thing being that he was in trouble and it was all your fault.

For the next couple of weeks , the two of you had these study sessions. They had went well and you were actually starting to understand the class. You and Donghyuck got closer too.

Ending every session with a fun fact about yourselves turned into full conversations about anything that crossed your mind. You would talk and he would listen. Thoughts of Donghyuck started clouding your head , even when you two weren’t together.

Maybe it was because he never judged you for any weird thing you’ve said. Or maybe it was because he would let you talk your heart out — something nobody has ever done , and he would just listen happily. It could’ve also been the way he looks completely heart broken every time you leave him , like he’s worried you will never comeback.

He’s also pretty attractive as well, soft black hair, beautiful skin, beauty moles that were spread so perfectly across his face and those thick rimmed black glasses.

When you walked up to his seat in class that day , he assumed that it would just be for another study session.

“Hi , we’re still on for saturda-“

“Do you wanna go out with me?” Cutting him off quickly.

“Like on a date.” You continue. You wait for a response but it takes a while. Maybe he didn’t understand you ?

But Donghyuck definitely understood. He understood so well that he thinks he’s dreaming actually. When the words “go out with me” flowed out of your mouth , his ears started ringing. He forgot how to breathe for a quick second. And for some odd reason he feels tears well up in his eyes. But before you think he’s trying to deny you , he forces himself to respond.

“Are you asking me out ?”

“Yea I am actually”

This can’t be right. The girl of his dreams asking him out , this has to be some sick joke.

“Are you sure you weren’t talking to the person behind me , cause that would make sen-“

“No. I’m asking you, Donghyuck Lee, out on a date with me.”

The tears were starting to fall now. Not of sadness but instead of Joy and utter happiness.

“Y-yea. I would be honored to go out with you, Like on a date of course.” Bringing his hand up to quickly wipe his cheek before you notice how pathetic he is.

“Great ! I was thinking Friday , 5’ o clock ? There’s this really good looking burger joint around here.” There goes that beautiful smile again , so bright and big.

“Friday sounds good. I like Friday's …”

“Good,” Pausing to take a good look at his face, you noticed his eyes were a bit watery. How cute. “I’ll see you friday then , Donghyuck.” And just like that you disappear once again.

When Donghyuck gets home that night , he cries in his pillow. He cries because he finally understands what it feels like to not be lonely— something that he’s been for so long. He cries and then humps his stuffed toy once again , until the only thought running through his mind is you.

Friday came quickly. You two had met up a small little diner in the corner of town as promised. Everything was going perfect. The evening filled with jokes and you laughing at Donghyuck as he was having a mini panic attack after spilling ketchup all over his shirt.

The conversations were flowing so smoothly , it was like you two had known each other your entire lives.

And yet again as the saying goes, all good things must come to an end.

It was time to head back home but instead of taking the bus like you usually would you and Donghyuck decided to just walk.The entire walk was filled with you two telling each other things that nobody else knew. You felt this weird sense of comfort when you spoke to him. Almost like he was the only person who understood who you really were.

When you approached the front of your building you felt a wave of sadness wash over you. This was truly an amazing night.

“I usually don’t do this after the first date but… there’s just something about you Donghyuck.” For the first time since you met him , you felt nervous.

You were staring at the ground beneath you. You took a few seconds to recollect yourself. What was the worse that could happen? This is Donghyuck. Your sweet , understanding , shy , silly Donghyuck.

“Donghyuck.. do you maybe wanna go out with me? As like… my boyfriend?”

Boyfriend. The word boyfriend rang in Donghyuck’s ears. His breathing started getting shallow and his knees buckled a bit. A rush of euphoria washed over him , his mind was racing and his heart was beating out of his chest. The tears welled up in his eyes and started to roll down his pretty face like a waterfall.

“Y-yea , I’d love that actually” Pausing to sniffle and wipe his face with the sleeve of his shirt.

“I’d love to be your boyfriend.”

“Are you okay hyuck ? You’re crying…” There was genuine concern in your voice.

“N-no I’m fine. Just really really happy.”

What a dork. He was so infatuated with you that he started to cry when you asked him out. You found it endearing that he enjoyed you so much. A smile painted your face. There was an intense silence that enveloped the two of you in a box. It was as if you and Donghyuck were the only people on earth. Basking in each others glory.

Staring into his captivating eyes you start to inch in closer to his face. Finally planting a soft kiss on his lips. He had completely stopped breathing. When you pulled away he looked absolutely stunned. Cute.

You give him a final look before turning away , walking to the entrance of your building. His eyes following you in silence.

Before you opened the door you turned around to say one last thing.

“Goodnight , Donghyuck.” And just like that, you disappear.

After you left him , he stood still in front of your building for 10 minutes. The world was revolving but Donghyuck was absolutely stuck. He needed time to comprehend what just happened , he had to make sure he wasn’t dreaming.

That night when Donghyuck got home , he cried for a bit. Then he got on Overwatch to tell his buddies that he’d be gone for a while. Finally he sprawled himself out on his bed and stared at the ceiling. Occasionally bringing his hand up to rub over his lips, as if rubbing them would take him back to the moment you placed your soft lips on his. As the night got darker , his eyes got heavy. When he finally fell asleep he had a smile on his face and dreamed of you.

Everything was perfect.

#nct smut #sub!nct #sub!idol #sub!kpop #lee haechan smut #haechan x y/n #haechan smut #nct dream smut #nct 127 smut #sub!haechan

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pascaloverx · 12 days ago

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STARVE

Summary: You lost your husband some time ago while he served as a gladiator for Emperors Geta and Caracalla. General Acacius saved you from becoming an object of pleasure for the emperors. Since then, he has taken you as his mistress. In your free time, you became a disciple of Ravi, the healer, dedicating yourself to tending to wounded gladiators. All seemed to be in perfect harmony until Hanno, a gladiator driven by a thirst for vengeance, crossed your path.

Author's Note: And the gods said: Starve will be a multi-chapter fanfiction (I hope readers will follow it all the way through). Without further ado, the characters belong to Ridley Scott's Gladiator II universe, though there will be significant deviations from the film. Historical accuracy regarding life in the Roman Empire may not always be strictly observed, so I hope you can overlook that. Yes, this story revolves around a love triangle, but I will strive to satisfy everyone. This fanfiction will include adult content, violence, and potentially coarse language. Enjoy!

two four

THREE

Something ominous looms on the horizon. For days, you have been meticulously avoiding both Acacius and Hanno—a strategy that, while effective thus far, has been anything but easy. The rumors reaching you suggest that Hanno has been pestering Ravi incessantly, demanding your presence once more. Ravi, clearly exasperated, has taken to openly complaining about being forced to mediate between your "amorous entanglements," as he puts it, since your self-imposed distance began.

You had thought your withdrawal would carry no real consequences, yet this morning proved otherwise. A messenger from the emperors arrived at your doorstep, summoning you to attend the games at the Colosseum. Apparently, Emperor Geta himself wishes to extend his gratitude for your exemplary work in tending to the gladiators—his and his brother's greatest source of entertainment.

"If you wish, I could say you are unwell," Ravi murmurs as the two of you make your way toward the Colosseum.

"I cannot risk displeasing the emperors while my standing with Acacius remains fragile," you reply, touched by Ravi's unwavering support.

"You should consider mending things with one of the men in your life, for your own sake," Ravi suggests, his tone serious, ever the wise counselor.

"Hanno remains tethered to the memory of his late wife, while General Acacius refuses to release me from our former arrangement. It seems there is no simple resolution," you respond, your voice carrying the weight of your predicament, as the imposing silhouette of the Colosseum looms ever closer.

"It would be far simpler if you weren’t so stubborn. General Acacius may no longer be the ideal choice, but you and Hanno share more in common than you’re willing to admit," Ravi says with an irritating air of wisdom.

"It would be far simpler if you ceased your obstinance. General Acacius may no longer seem ideal, yet you and Hanno share far more in common than you are willing to acknowledge," Ravi remarked, his tone laden with that infuriating wisdom he so often wielded. However, the truth stands—your union with your late husband was forged more upon the bonds of friendship than the fires of passion. Before his commitment to you, he was entangled in an affair with Emperor Caracalla. That, above all, is the most profound distinction between yourself and Hanno. You grieve the loss of a cherished companion who became your husband by circumstance, whereas Hanno mourns his wife, who was, perhaps, the great love of his life.

"I shall take your counsel into consideration, my old friend, yet I beg of you to help me survive at least this day," you say, casting an apprehensive glance toward Ravi. He halts before you, placing a gentle kiss upon your forehead.

"Years ago, I vowed to your husband that I would care for you, and I shall not falter now. May the Gods watch over us," Ravi murmurs solemnly, his voice a quiet prayer as the two of you resume your path toward the arena, where the gladiators are already assembling for the commencement of the games.

Your gaze instinctively searches for Hanno, betraying a desire you would rather not acknowledge. His eyes, almost alight amidst the throng of gladiators, lock onto yours, his expression that of a man consumed by fury. You and Ravi did not take the same path as the gladiators, so it would not be prudent for you to approach him. Yet, from afar, you watch him with a quiet intensity. The courage you lack to bridge the distance is overshadowed by the boldness he possesses to close it himself.

"I shall give you a moment," Ravi murmurs, stepping aside as if sensing the gravity of the encounter. "Do not forget—Hanno may not leave the arena alive today. Be mindful to show kindness, for this could be your last exchange with him." Before you can fully process Ravi's warning, Hanno reaches you with surprising swiftness, all but sweeping you away with his commanding presence.

Hanno swiftly seized your waist with firm hands, nearly lifting you off the ground, and guided you to a secluded corner. His fury was unmistakable, reflected in the dominant grip he maintained on your waist, his hold firm enough to suggest he had no intention of letting you escape. "Have you lost your senses?" you demanded as he pressed you back against one of the great columns of the coliseum.

"I could not allow you to slip away from me again," Hanno replied, his voice low but resolute, his eyes scanning your surroundings with the precision of a predator ensuring no one dared approach.

"Our separation was necessary," you say with some difficulty, the closeness of Hanno's body to yours a maddening temptation that clouds your thoughts.

"Your master forbade you from interacting with me, and you simply obeyed, didn’t you?" Hanno says in a low, furious tone. His anger is not just visible but palpable, almost suffocating.

You seize his face with your hand, your nails pressing dangerously close to his neck. "Say once more that Acacius is my master, and I shall tear your throat out," you threaten, your voice laced with an inexplicable fury. Yet, Hanno seems to relish this, for he steps even closer, his lips curling into a wicked smile.

"I missed you, healer," Hanno replies, his eyes holding an unusual tenderness just moments before he claims your lips in a tumultuous kiss. It is as though he is consuming you, devouring you with his kiss, seeking to capture you entirely while his hands map your body with desperate reverence.

If the two of you were caught, it would mean your undoing, the end of both your lives. Yet, some part of you whispers that it would be worth it. In truth, if death awaited you for this, a kiss alone would not suffice. Each second his tongue dances with yours stirs a longing so deep it borders on madness. You yearn for him to take you, right here and now, for the feel of him within you seems the only desire worthy of risking everything. "Do not die today, gladiator," you murmur against his lips as they part, allowing you both to catch your breath.

"It will not be I who dies today, healer," Hanno says, his voice steady, before capturing your lips once more, this time with tenderness rather than desire. His grip on you tightens, as though he wishes to sink his hands into your very being, to keep your body close to his for all eternity.

"I only hope you can forgive me for what I am about to do," he murmurs, his breath warm against your ear. Before you can respond, one of the gladiators calls his name, and he steps away. An unease settles in your chest, fear creeping in as you wonder what he might be planning. Yet, the weight of your obligations presses against your thoughts—you must make your way to the emperors without delay.

"For what reason is the healer present here?" Lucilla, seated beside Acacius, questions sharply as you approach the section where they, the emperors, and other guests await the spectacle.

"The healer is my guest, Lucilla," Emperor Geta interjects swiftly, extending his hand toward you in expectation. Dutifully, you step forward and kiss it. Moments later, Emperor Caracalla mimics his brother’s gesture, and you lean in to kiss his hand as well.

As you rise, your gaze catches the familiar figure of Dondus, the small monkey, bounding toward you with recognition in his bright eyes. Memories of the time you were compelled to remain near the emperors, so Caracalla could indulge his desires with your late husband, flood back unbidden. "He still remembers you," Caracalla exclaims, his voice carrying an unusual note of delight as he grasps your hand.

"It is an honor to be here," you reply evenly, though the weight of his touch stirs emotions you work hard to suppress. Behind your composed words lingers the haunting memory of the cold efficiency with which Caracalla and his brother had ordered your husband's death—right here in this very arena.

"We have been separated by the misfortunes imposed upon us by the Gods, but I believe a new chapter is now opening for us, as your skills as a healer have not gone unnoticed. Hands as talented as yours deserve to care for the well-being of emperors, my dear," Geta declares, his gaze lingering on you with a fervent intensity that borders on desire. You struggle to mask the fear swirling within you, wondering what fate the Gods have in store for you next.

The weight of his words settles heavily on your chest, but before you can gather your thoughts, General Acacius rises abruptly and moves toward the two of you. Your hand lightly grazes the fabric of his attire, halting his approach. "Is there a matter of concern, General?" Emperor Caracalla inquires, his tone laced with an air of amusement, as his fingers idly stroke Dondus, who appears entirely at ease in his presence.

"There is no matter of concern, Emperor Caracalla," General Acacius responds, his hand firmly clasping yours against his chest beneath the folds of his vestment, his piercing gaze directed at the two emperors with the weight of an unspoken warning.

“Our most illustrious general appears perturbed that we extended an invitation to his mistress to grace these games in our company without first seeking his counsel,” Emperor Geta declares with an air of calculated provocation, his words laden with mockery. The faintest smirk curls his lips, as if relishing the tension he seeks to sow.

"Ah, brother, such concerns would trouble him only if he were entangled with her. Yet rumors abound that they no longer seek solace in each other's embrace and that she is no longer charged with tending to the wounds of our noble General," Emperor Caracalla remarks, his words clearly meant to provoke. However, his statement seems to have unsettled Lucilla, who shifts restlessly in her seat.

"Brother, remember that we ought not lend credence to idle gossip," Emperor Geta interjects, rising with an air of authority. "If our esteemed General Acacius insists that we disregard his lover, let him convince us that their bond remains intact. Otherwise, let him return to his rightful place beside his wife, and allow my brother and me the honor of tending to the fair healer." As Geta’s words echo, Acacius turns his gaze toward you, his eyes locking with yours in a silent exchange. Without hesitation, he pulls your face toward his, as though intending to kiss you before the eyes of all assembled.

"Do not sacrifice your marriage for me," you murmur, your voice trembling as the weight of the moment threatens to bring tears to your eyes. The inevitability of what you feared is now unfolding before you—Acacius can no longer shield you.

"You are worthy of such a sacrifice, mea domina," General Acacius murmurs near your ear, his hand gently caressing your face. His touch carries a tenderness that momentarily threatens to weaken your resolve. Yet, you grasp his hands, steadying yourself, and move them away from your face, refusing to yield to the moment. There is a depth to your bond with Acacius, a connection forged in unspoken understanding, but you cannot bring yourself to jeopardize him.

"Perhaps it would be wiser to let the healer decide where she wishes to remain," you say, your voice steady, masking the longing within you to leave this place with Acacius. Turning toward Emperor Geta, who now sits observing the exchange with keen interest alongside his brother, Caracalla. Without hesitation, Geta seizes the opportunity, pulling you onto his lap with a self-assured ease that leaves no doubt of his authority.

Your gaze meets that of General Acacius, whose displeasure grows ever more evident. His clenched fists and the tension in his posture betray the storm brewing within him. "I believe the games are about to begin, dear General Acacius," Emperor Geta states with a sly smile, his hand firmly resting on your waist to solidify his claim. "It would be most appropriate for you to take your seat and enjoy the spectacle." His words carry a subtle provocation, a challenge cloaked in politeness.

Acacius lingers, his body taut with restraint as though weighing the consequences of striking an emperor in defense of his pride. Just as the tension threatens to boil over, Macrinus approaches, his demeanor lively and oblivious to the undercurrents. "Ah, are we all ready to witness the might of my beast? My gladiator returns to the arena today!" Macrinus exclaims, his excitement cutting through the charged atmosphere like a blade.

Acacius hesitates, his head tilting as though he is torn, unwilling to move from your side while you remain seated on Emperor Geta’s lap. Yet, Lucilla intervenes, her steps measured as she approaches her husband. She takes his hand with a quiet resolve, guiding him back to her side. A flicker of disappointment stirs within you, faint but undeniable. What else could you have expected? Acacius has always belonged to her, to duty, to the empire. He has never truly been yours.

The tension lingers only a moment longer before the spectacle claims everyone’s attention. The gates to the coliseum creak open, and the gladiators march into the arena. Yet something is amiss. Their faces are obscured, smeared with what appears to be blood, masking their identities. For those with inattentive eyes, it becomes nearly impossible to distinguish one from another. But not for you. No, Hanno’s eyes—those piercing, tempestuous eyes—are burned into your memory like the sharp point of a blade embedded deep into flesh. Even amid the chaos, they find you, unyielding and unforgettable.

"Macrinus, what are the gladiators scheming?" Emperor Caracalla asks, his words slurred as he drinks from his goblet, already appearing too inebriated to speak coherently.

"My esteemed Emperor Caracalla, I have no knowledge of their schemes, but I trust it is all in service of your entertainment," Macrinus responds, his gaze fixed intently on the gladiators below. He observes them with a sharpness that contrasts Caracalla's indifference, his expression unreadable.

Your eyes instinctively seek out General Acacius, silently willing him to understand that something is amiss. He meets your gaze, his brow furrowed as though catching the silent warning you convey.

"You seem unsettled, healer," Emperor Geta murmurs into your ear, his voice sending a shiver down your spine. "I am not accustomed to watching gladiators face one another, Emperor," you reply, steadying your voice. "I am more familiar with mending their wounds when they survive." The truth, however, weighs heavier on your mind—Hanno is planning something, and whatever it is, it may cost Acacius his life. A fate you cannot allow.

"Do not fret," Geta coos, lifting your chin with a deliberate gentleness that feels almost mocking. His eyes search yours, a predator relishing his control. "Guards, increase vigilance near the gladiators!" he commands suddenly, his voice sharp and resonant, slicing through the murmurs of the spectators.

"Emperor, it may not be wise to leave yourself so unguarded," General Acacius interjects, his tone firm yet controlled as he observes the guards dispersing to obey Geta's orders.

"And what greater protection could Rome offer than you, General?" Geta retorts with a smug smile, his grip on you tightening slightly, as though to assert his dominance. The tension is palpable, yet it is quickly eclipsed by the spectacle unfolding in the arena. The gates groan open once more, and three lions emerge, their emaciated forms a testament to their hunger. Their roars echo across the coliseum, a feral sound that sets the crowd alight with excitement. The gladiators ready themselves, their movements deliberate, each one measured and precise.

Your heart tightens as Hanno shouts to the other gladiators, "Remember our plan! Our enemy lies far beyond the arena!" Surely, he is plotting something, yet his precision in leading the gladiators against the lions is extraordinary. It is as if Hanno is channeling his spirit animal, his movements instinctive and deliberate.

Blood is everywhere—some gladiators brutally slaughtered by the lions. Two of the beasts have already been defeated when a revolt begins, chaos erupting as the third lion aids the gladiators in breaking through the arena gates. Suddenly, the tension in the air thickens. Panic spreads as the guards scramble to escort the emperors away from the scene.

Caught in the fray, you find yourself swept along with Emperors Geta and Caracalla, fate conspiring against you. In the madness, you lose sight of Acacius amidst the swarm of guards and gladiators. The tumult escalates into full-blown chaos until a voice pierces through the din, crying out, "Protect the Emperor!"

Before you can react, you feel the sharp pain of a blade slicing through your skin—or perhaps plunging into it. You cannot tell. Dazed, you glance down to see your blood staining your garments, and when you lift your gaze, you meet the eyes of your assailant. Hanno's eyes. You are certain.

The attack meant for Emperor Geta has struck you instead, delivered by the very man who has awakened feelings you dare not name. Tears well in your eyes as you feel your strength waning, your consciousness slipping into darkness.

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ineffableigh · 1 year ago

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Wait what the hell is Aziraphale mouthing here. Lip-readers sound off!!

This is RIGHT before "The Metatron! I don't think he's as bad a fellow - well I think I might have misjudged him."

His line was: "I, um... [mouthing something]" THEN the above line.

This can't be nothing. Can it? "We need to get out"??? Not sure. EDIT: I agree with @maximumpenguinpuppy here, I think he's saying

"WE NEED HELP."

Further deep dive on the most painful conversation I've ever seen:

Azi makes the most INTENSE EYE CONTACT I'VE EVER SEEN during "I think I might have misjudged him."

"PLEASE HEAR WHAT I AM SAYING TO YOU RIGHT NOW."

After a few intercuts with the flashbacks we get to the really painful bit.

"He said that I could appoint you... to be an angel." His voice is so strained and high pitched even for him, here.

"Like the old times, only even NICER!"

The super nice old times where you couldn't be together at all, eh?

Crowley starts his confession and we get the "What the blazes is he doing?" face as he starts to realize Crowley is NOT picking up on any of this. Azi's breathing heavily here, revealing how very stressed the fuck out he is.

After this point is when things get really hard to interpret. Aziraphale sounds so genuine about "Come with me!" and "We can make a difference, I'll run it and you'll be my second in command." It feels like Crowley starting his very real confession broke through the charade of 'The Metatron knows something and we're in fucking danger'.

He blathers about Angels and Doing Good before breaking again, letting the "I need you!" slip. We get this HALF A SECOND look of the most profound sadness right before the "I don't think you understand what I'm offering you."

"You idiot. We could have been us."

Azi looks like he can't believe just how badly this went. This is right before he looks away.

OH NO NOW I'VE SEEN CROWLEY'S FACE RIGHT WHEN HE STARTS TO GO OVER FOR THE KISS AH MY FEELS

Azi is not hiding his emotions well, right before the grab:

Then of course we get the I Forgive You, which sounds like his most bitter one yet. A flash of anger and resentment, frustration, immediately followed by remorse and grief.

Having seen all that, my best guess now is:

Metatron made the (barely) veiled De Facto Partnership threats, implying he knows about the body swap and, implicitly, threatening Crowley with Holy Water, at least to some extent.

Aziraphale tries his damnedest to communicate to Crowley that Something is Fucking Wrong and they Have to Go to Heaven to Fix It.

Crowley, having been primed by the various chats with Nina and then the 2v1 chat with Nina and Maggie RIGHT before this, clearly timed by the Metatron, fully misses all of this and takes it all at face value.

Crowley starts to give his confession and Aziraphale realizes what he's trying to say, tries to adjust his Heaven Pitch to hinge on staying together as a team to fix things."

"You cannot leave this bookshop." "Nothing lasts forever." Azi has chosen the worst way to make another attempt at saying he has no choice but to leave the bookshop. I don't think this is about the Second Coming, given his reaction to the info later.

Everything deteriorates from there as Aziraphale tries again to imply something is Fucking Wrong by going back to the "Angels! Doing good!" shtick, but it's too late. It's always too late.

"I don't think you understand what I'm offering you." He doesn't but Azi is also communicating it very badly, likely because the Metatron is indeed watching.

Crowley thinks this is all real so he gives his No Nightingales line, etc etc. Aziraphale can tell there's no fixing this, gives up.

Crowley swoops in with The Kiss as a last ditch effort to get Azi to listen. Azi WAS listening, but cannot respond other than in anger and frustration that Crowley, in his view, refuses to listen to him again, has called him an idiot again. This happens multiple times throughout the show so there's history to fuel that assumption.

This is the precise outcome the Metatron was vying for, to split them up and emotionally/psychologically weaken them, to ensure there was no chance of a united front as there was for Armageddidn't.

My heart hurts, ow.

#aziraphale #crowley #the metatron #ineffable divorce #ineffable husbands #good omens meta

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heart-of-the-morningstar · 9 days ago

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Lucifer x Reader - It's Been A While... (NSFW)

Based on @the-other-soup's post from a little bit ago ;3

Lucifer's been alone from quiet some time now, ever since his wife left years ago

He's never found anyone else to share his life with after that

That is, of course, until you came along

You never intended to fall in love with the King of Hell, but his goofy charm and profound silliness enchanted you

Things were slow to start, it took him a few months to ask if he could hold your hand

You didn't mind though, you thought it was adorable; the most powerful being in the realm became a flustered mess around you

After things became more serious, however, it was you that brought up the possibility of being more intimate

Lucifer was somehow very eager and very hesitant at the same time; as though he wanted nothing more than to be with you physically but something was holding him back

You told him it didn't have to be today, or next week, hell, it didn't even have to be this year!

You only wanted to have a discussion and didn't want to pressure him at all; he was very appreciative

One night, a soft make out session on his bed developed into something deeper

Your eyes couldn't help but notice the bulge that was forming in Lucifer's pants

"Maybe we should stop," you suggested, gesturing below his belt

Lucifer looked down, his eyes wide. "O-Oh! Oh golly...sorry about that..."

"Lucifer, you don't have to apologize for being turned on!"

"I know," he sighed, "I just...I feel like I'm forcing you to wait for me. You've been so patient and I can't tell you how much that means to me, but..."

You smile and plant a kiss on his tinted cheek. "It's alright, I understand. You know I'd never force you into anything you weren't ready for. I'm perfectly fine waiting for-"

"I want you to touch me." Lucifer cut you off unexpectantly. "I-I mean, if you would like to! I don't want you to if you don't want to! I just...God, what's wrong with me?!"

You sat there stunned for a moment before taking a hold of Lucifer's hand. "Luci, please don't force yourself into this. If you're not comfortable with-"

"I promise I'm not forcing myself into wanting this, wanting you. God, I've wanted you for so long now...I'm tired of being afraid." He leaned in to kiss you tenderly before pulling away. "Please..."

You leaned your forehead against his. "Are you sure?"

"I am."

Slowly, your hands traveled south on his body, making quick work of his belt and shuffling his pants down to his ankles.

His bulge looked even more impressive pressing against his boxers; you had to hold back a smirk when you saw the spot of precum that already leaked through the material

You pushed his boxers down and freed his thick shaft, gasping at his size and trying to keep yourself from drooling

"I'll go slow, okay?" you reassured him. "If you want me to stop, please tell me. Promise?"

"I promise," he murmured.

The poor man could barely look you in the eyes, but it was adorable how nervous he seemed to be

Tentatively you gripped the base of his cock which you could barely wrap your hand fully around and began to stroke him gently

God, the sounds that left the angel’s mouth were immaculate; soft mewls and choked back moans

You wanted him so fucking bad

But you promised you would go slow, and that’s exactly what you planned to do

You kissed him softly, swallowing every noise he made

Only about a minutes passed before Lucifer started to tremble under your touch, his breathing beyond labored

He was a goner

“S-Shit…love, I…oh, God…oh no…no no no no, FFFFUUUUCK!”

Without so much as a warning, Lucifer came hard into your hand, unable to keep himself from bucking into you

His cum spilled passed your fingers and dripped onto the bedsheets below

“Oh…” you whispered to yourself

“Fuck…FUCK! I’m so so sorry! I didn’t think I would…oh my God…it’s been so long since someone else has…this is a disaster!”

You couldn’t hold back the giggle that left your throat

Lucifer blushed hard and hid his burning face in his hands

“No, no, Lucifer it’s alright!” you tried to comfort him. “I’m not laughing at you, I swear I’m not. I don’t care that you finished so quickly! If anything, I’m flattered! Please don’t be embarrassed.”

You brought your hand to your face, making sure he watched you lick up the mess he had made

That gesture alone made the man whimper

“Did it feel good?” you asked, wiping the remaining remnants of his cum from your lips

“Good? Sweetie, that felt incredible…I’m sorry again. Can I at least make it up to you?”

You blushed at the thought of his proposal. “Lucifer, that’s very thoughtful of you, b-but you don’t have to-”

You don’t know how you ended up laying flat on the bedsheets with Lucifer hovering over you, but you were

And you didn’t want to be anywhere else

“Do you think it’s fair that I get to cum and you don’t?” he asked. “No, no, that’s not going to work for me.”

He shifted himself down, his face planted firmly between your clothes sex

“With your permission, darling.~”

Lucifer spent the next hour bringing you endless pleasure with his fingers and tongue alone

You now knew it was possible for you to cum 7 times within the span on 60 minutes

#hazbin hotel #lucifer morningstar #hazbin lucifer #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer x reader #lucifer smut #SOUP THIS IS FOR YOU 💖

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so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed · 4 months ago

Text

I haven't really had the wits about me to write anything, and everything has already been said by people way more eloquent than me, but it's like I told Sus earlier today. I just miss him terribly.

I miss who he was, who he had the potential to be. I grieve for the boy who so desperately wanted to be liked, who just wanted to bring joy to the world. I grieve for the man who was so lost and will never get to be all those versions of himself he was supposed to grow into.

I am just so fucking sad. I'm sad there will never be new music. I'm sad he will never get to go on tour with an album he's proud of. I'm sad he won't be able to grow and learn that at the end of the day, what matters most isn't the approval of others but a deep sense of self love.

I'm angry too. I'm angry at the mob mentality and at the absolute senselessness of his death. I'm angry that it takes death for people to mellow out in their opinion about him. I'm angry that people refuse to take accountability and find others to blame.

I'm also so grateful. For this fandom, for all the people it brought me. For the friendships that have shaped me, even as an older fan. For the profound joy and profound impact they've had on our lives.

I don't know where to go from here. But I know that wherever life takes me, these boys will always be a part of it. This grief will always be a part of it, but so will the joy. The absolute sheer joy I've experienced, which makes this grief bearable. Because what a beautiful thing it is to grieve so deeply, to have loved so deeply.

I love you Liam. I love you Louis and Zayn and Niall and Harry. And I love you, this fandom, my friends, the people who have reached out to me, this community that I would never want to miss, even if it means I wouldn't be grieving now. Getting into this fandom is and will always be the best decision I've ever made.

#liam payne

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larkandkatydid · 24 days ago

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"No live organism can continue to exist sanely under conditions of absolute reality; even larks and katydids are supposed, by some, to dream..."

Book Recs: The Gothic After Shirley Jackson

Peter Straub, Ghost Story: One of the great horror novles about misogyny that is also misogynistic. But, I will say in the 30 or so years that this book has been in my life, I've come to see it as smarter and more interesting with its unreliable protagonists than I had previously thought. And this is partially the skill of the writer unfolding for me as I mature, but I cannot help but think that Current Events make it impossible to not see the Chowder Society as an allegory for the U.S. Supreme Court

Rene Depestre, Hadriana In All My Dreams: A gorgeous, richly written zombie story but I also think a very early exploration of the ideas you find in a lot of feminist horror critiques. What if the beauitful dead girl wants to be something other than beautiful and pure and perfect and dead?

Susannah Clark, Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrel: The hype over this book when it came out was so intense that I think I undervalued it at first because it could not possibly have lived up to that hype. But it truly is excellent.

Tananarive Due, The Good House: This book is such a perfect iteration of the Steven Speilberg/Stephen King style of normal family in peril. Due's latest book, The Reformatory has won so many horror awards this year and it also a wonderful new version of books about the children fighting evil. There's so much heart and warmth in all her books, even when awful things happen.

Helen Oyeyemi, White is for Witching: A austere, Jackon-esque haunted house book that also reminds me a lot of Sarah Waters' The Little Stranger. It's very much rooted in the conservative, nightmarish era of the 1980s, which makes it now relevant for today.

Jeanette Ng, Under the Pendulum Sun: This book about Victorian missionaries in the fairy realm ends up on so many of my recomendation lists. If Under the Pendulum Sun has one fan, and it might, that fan is me. But I remain ever hopeful that I will be able to persuade enough of the reading public that it gets a sequel.

Afia Atakora, Conjure Women: A book that is riffing on both Jane Eyre and The Beguiled and, most of all, digging in the rich gothic soil of "how do we live together after betraying each other to survive?"

Olga Tokarczuk, Drive Your Plow Over the Bones of the Dead: What else can be said about this book? It's an ecofeminist Hannibal episode in the most complimentary way possible. It's probably insulting to put Tokarczuk on a list with such goofy books, but she's having fun here.

Emma Rous, The Au Pair: This is the stupidest book on this list. It is possibly one of the stupidest books ever written, something I say with profound love and admiration. Nothing that happens in this book makes emotional or medical sense, and yet, it's a fucking blast.

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khywren · 10 months ago

Text

Ravenous

pairing: Astarion/f!reader rating: 18+ MDNI word count: 4.4k tags/warnings: shameless smut, piv sex, oral sex, fingering, blood drinking, praise kink, multiple orgasms/overstimulation

summary: You part your legs for him without hesitation, wetness pooling between your thighs. Astarion hasn't even touched you yet and already you are dizzy with need, obedient without him even needing to ask for you to accommodate him. You would beg him for it if he asked you to. Astarion's voice has fallen to a conspiratorial whisper when he brings his lips close to your ear and asks, “You want to feel more than my fangs inside you, don't you?” ────────── Astarion is feeling particularly hungry tonight. And this time, he's craving more than just your blood.

AO3 ┊ masterlist

Pale light filters through the frost-encrusted windows, the panes of glass rattling as the winds outside buffet the tiny inn you and Astarion have chosen to take refuge in for the evening. Despite the raging storm outside your room, your senses are deafened to anything beyond your immediate vicinity; you hear only the steady, rhythmic drumbeat of your heart and the quiet sounds of pleasure Astarion makes as he takes his fill of you.

A satisfied sigh, a low hum of approval. The eager lap of his tongue against your heated skin. Tame by most standards, but unmistakable evidence of the sheer indulgence that is your blood and the satisfaction it brings him.

By now, the presence of his fangs barely register as anything more than a dull, familiar ache. You sit comfortably on the bed between his thighs, braced against his chest as he cradles the side of your head with an open palm. The fingers of his other hand lay entwined with your own and comfortably in your lap, anchoring you to one another.

Ever since the first time you offered Astarion your blood, the act has had a distinct intimacy about it, one that has grown even more profound as your relationship has developed.

What once were quiet, stolen moments of comfort in camp have become the foundation of your devotion to one another, the one thing you can provide him that no one and nothing else can – at least, not in this particular way.

Lost in your thoughts, you don't immediately notice the shift in your awareness, or the fatigue that ebbs through your body as Astarion continues to drink deeply from you. The feeling almost borders on euphoria, beckoning you to let go and sink into a deep slumber, but you manage to reign yourself in just before your eyes close completely.

He's probably taken more than he should, but you can't spare the effort that it would take to care. Astarion needs blood, and you are more than happy to provide it for him. A gentle squeeze of his hand is all it takes to alert him, and he swallows audibly one last time as he pulls away from your throat.

With eyes half-hooded and dark as the wine you had downstairs, he looks as though he has just been roused from a deep sleep.

Your heart constricts in your chest as you catch a glance at him from the corner of your eye and turn to watch him. Even now, you still find yourself mesmerized by how beautiful he is, like a pale rose in bloom beneath the full moon.

The corners of his mouth are tinged a subtle pink, the same shade now creeping across the rest of his pallid complexion. You particularly notice the flush that colors the tips of his ears, a stark contrast against the soft white curls of his hair. Pressed up against him as you are, you can feel the change your blood brings to his body, little tendrils of the life and warmth you have so eagerly given him.

Astarion brushes a thumb over the remaining blood on his lips and licks it clean, turning his attention on you.

“You pilfered the extra sweetrolls.”

You're not sure what to make of the flatness of his tone, and when you meet his gaze his expression betrays very little of what he's thinking.

“The barkeep was closing up for the night,” you assert, “and they were just going to go to waste.”

The arts of stealth and sleight of hand have never quite been your strong suits, but during your travels with Astarion, you had come to realize their merits. He had been teaching you the proper ways of remaining undetected, though to somewhat mixed results. But you were trying your best – that even he had to admit.

And if you had happened to put his teaching to good use to steal yourself a couple extra snacks, what harm was there in that?

“And besides,” you add, “I thought you might enjoy the extra treat too.”

Astarion weaves his fingers through your hair, guiding your face up towards his own. His lips are soft against yours when he murmurs, “I'm not chastising you, darling. Merely observing.” You feel him grin as he says, “I'm honestly just impressed that you didn't get caught. Maybe you're not a lost cause after all.”

Before you can protest, he kisses you properly, capturing your bottom lip between his teeth. Your part your lips with a heavy sigh, and you detect the distinct flavor of iron still lingering on his tongue as he explores your mouth. There's nothing else significant about the taste of your blood that you can detect, of course, but Astarion must have known the difference the moment he bit you.

When he pulls away, his eyes never leave your face, and you know him well enough by now to sense the thinly-veiled hunger in his gaze.

“You must know that your blood is always a treat.”

He says it almost absently, as if his thoughts are elsewhere. The tempo of your heart rises on instinct, and you know he can hear it when his hand slips from your own and travels over the hem of your nightgown, impossibly warm through the thin cotton fabric.

You swallow thickly, mouth parched as his fingers slip beneath the nightgown and begin to travel up, up, up.

“Although, I must admit, it's hardly the only part of you worth savoring.”

You part your legs for him without hesitation, wetness pooling between your thighs. Astarion hasn't even touched you yet and already you are dizzy with need, obedient without him even needing to ask for you to accommodate him.

You are aware of the press of his cock just below the small of your back, already half-hard beneath his pants. It only serves to excite you that much more, and when you adjust your hips slightly to allow him better access, the friction coaxes a low groan from him that sends a wave of arousal straight through your center.

It must only take moments for his hand to glide up the length of your thigh, but it feels like ages, anticipation building in you like a tightly wound spring about to snap. But instead of relief, you feel even more tense as his fingers press up against your soaked underwear, a maddening barrier between your bodies that you want nothing more than to tear away so that he might finally give you what you need.

You would beg him for it if he asked you to.

Astarion's voice has fallen to a conspiratorial whisper when he brings his lips close to your ear and asks, “You want to feel more than my fangs inside you, don't you?”

You moan wantonly, rolling your hips against his hand.

“Y-yes…”

Your voice cracks around the single syllable, betraying your desperation.

"I thought so,” Astarion remarks with a low, rumbling laugh. He seems quite pleased with how easily he's gotten you worked up, the smug bastard. But gods, do you want him.

“How many fingers?”

Your breath hitches, and you clench around nothing at the thought alone.

"Two."

Astarion clicks his tongue in what sounds like admonishment, but his hand mercifully slips beneath your underwear nevertheless. He rewards you with a tantalizingly slow drag of his fingers between your slick folds, finally sliding the tip of one single finger inside you. You are so wet and aching for him that he meets little resistance, and you can't help but cry out in pleasure.

“I do so adore your enthusiasm,” he muses. “But you can take more for me, can't you?”

Despite the fog clouding your thoughts all but robbing you of your ability to speak, you manage to tell him, “I... I can try.”

Astarion presses a second finger into you, burying himself to the second knuckle.

“Good girl.”

Your head falls back against his shoulder as his fingers slowly pump inside you in a steady, deliberate rhythm, working you open with a tenderness he reserves only for you. The additional stimulation of the soft pad of his thumb against your clit has you seeing stars, and you instinctively buck your hips to seek more of that delicious friction.

“Astarion…”

Your tone implies so many things: your desire, your growing need for release, your adoration of how well he knows your body, an instrument he plays to perfection every time he touches you.

Astarion presses a third finger at your entrance, lavishing wet, open-mouthed kisses against the shell of your ear and the column of your neck.

“Are you ready, love? I want to hear you sing for me.”

“Yes,” you whine, spreading your legs a little wider and inhaling a bracing breath. You've yet to take him like this, but you know he will make it good for you. He always does.

“Just relax,” he coos. The stretch of his third finger is an unfamiliar ache, but he eases inside you slowly, patiently, making sure you are comfortable. The pain is only temporary, swiftly replaced with indescribable pleasure, and soon his fingers are buried as deep as they can go.

You moan for him between panting breaths, caged against his body by the hand between your legs and his other hand, which palms and kneads your breasts over your disheveled nightgown. Experimentally, he crooks his fingers inside you, grazing the spot that punches a high, keening whine from your open mouth.

“There... that's it,” he praises you, repeating the gesture again, and then a third time, leaving you dizzy and breathless. All the while, you grind against him, lost in your mounting pleasure.

“How's that?”

His voice cuts through your arousal, tethering you to the present moment. It takes you an embarrassingly long time to form a coherent thought, but you grin mischievously when you tell him:

“Feels... good... but not nearly as good as your cock.”

Astarion tenses, the arm that encircles your torso tightening and pulling you firmly against his body.

“Careful,” he growls. “You have no idea what that wicked little mouth of yours does to me. I have half a mind to take you right now, to show you just how good I can be.”

You don't tell him that you know exactly what it does to him. You can feel the evidence of your teasing against your back, the way his hips stutter against you, making you all too aware of how hard his cock has suddenly become.

Perhaps it's the blood loss that makes you bold, but you don't hesitate to push him just a little further, eager to make him feel even a fraction of the overwhelming desire you've already experienced for him. You know he loves it, that fiery spark of yours.

“Then do it.”

Your voice is low, almost breathless as you say it, and not entirely on purpose. Because as much as you enjoy knowing it's taking everything he has not to make good on his word, the thought of him replacing his fingers with that lovely cock of his threatens to unravel you completely.

A moment of tense silence passes as Astarion seems to consider your suggestion. His fingers have stopped moving, and you furrow your brows in frustration, earning you a huff of laughter for your efforts.

“And rob you of an unforgettable evening of pleasure?” Astarion asks, feigning offense. “You must think me cruel.”

His thumb teases slow, purposeful circles around your clit, coaxing another moan from your lips. He isn't entirely wrong – as desperate as you are for your release, it would almost be a shame to end it all so anticlimactically. Astarion seems to be in agreement when he murmurs, “No, I plan to take my time with you. I'm going to take you apart, piece by piece, until the only remaining thoughts you have are of me and me alone.”

He punctuates his words with a series of slow, deep thrusts of his fingers inside you, and your hands fumble for purchase on his thighs, gripping tightly as if it's the only thing keeping you from toppling completely over the edge. It's barely enough.

“I'm yours, Astarion,” you tell him.

"I know, love,” he says tenderly, capturing your mouth in a brief yet searing kiss. His eyes darken, fangs gleaming behind the smirk that plays effortlessly across his face.

“And soon everyone in this dusty little inn will know it too.”

The hand on your breast slips beneath your nightgown and brushes over your bare skin, and you bite your lip to stifle a moan as he pinches your nipple between his fingertips. Embarrassment floods through you when you remember how thin the walls are, and that anyone in the neighboring rooms must already have heard your cries of pleasure.

“Don't be shy,” he insists, returning his attention to your neck as he increases the pace of his fingers inside you, slotting his mouth over the place he fed from you only minutes ago. The wet slide of his tongue against your skin and the way your cunt flutters around his fingers crashes against you in a wave of pure ecstasy, and this time you don't hold back as you cry out his name, your hips bearing down against him as you chase your pleasure.

Astarion grins wickedly against your throat and makes a primal noise somewhere between a groan and a growl that ripples through your body.

“There you go. I knew you would be good for me.”

Heat pools low in your belly, enticing you closer and closer towards the sweet oblivion you seek. Every drag of his fingers makes you tremble, a messy string of whimpers tumbling from your lips.

You're thrusting against him now with only one thought on your mind, teetering on the razor thin edge between your desire for more of him and the overwhelming need to let him see just how good he makes you feel.

"You're close, aren't you?” Astarion purrs into your ear. “Let go – I've got you.”

It's all the encouragement you need, and you come hard around his fingers, even as they continue to thrust inside you. The walls of your cunt contract around him, and soon your body goes limp in his arms, your chest heaving as you surrender yourself completely to the current that washes away any thoughts that aren't Astarion, Astarion, Astarion.

Astarion murmurs praises against your skin as he kisses along your jaw, your shoulder, and when at last he slides his fingers out of you, you watch as he raises those same fingers to his mouth before slipping them past his lips to get a proper taste of you.

His eyes fall shut and he groans softly in your ear, cursing under his breath. He's drunk on the taste of you, and you know he wants more.

Reluctantly, Astarion untangles himself from you, and you lay back against the pillows expectantly. You watch him with rapt attention as he lifts his shirt over his head, exposing his pale, sculpted chest to your hungry gaze. His pants are discarded just as quickly, cast aside as soon as he can tug them off. Your eyes rove shamelessly over his body, and when at last they meet his, you almost lose yourself in the depths of his adoring gaze. A thousand shades of red you cannot name, roiling like the open ocean in a storm.

But there is one unmistakable thing you see: his hunger for you, so blatant in the way his eyes narrow and his mouth draws into a thin, taut line as he prowls towards you.

Within seconds he's straddling you on the mattress, pushing your nightgown up and over your thighs before he hooks his fingers beneath your underwear. He is growing impatient, and all but tears them off of you. You help him kick them aside, pinned by the intensity of his gaze as he admires your body and all the curves and imperfections he loves so much.

You manage to pull the nightgown over your head in the time it takes Astarion to sink between your thighs, propping himself up in his elbows as once again you part your legs for him. Overstimulated and exhausted as you are, you still ache with need, and when Astarion opens his mouth and runs his tongue over his fangs you clench hard enough that you feel the evidence of your arousal drip obscenely down your thighs.

“Gods above,” Astarion groans. “Look at you. You're absolutely soaking, aren't you?”

Your mouth falls slack, and you can't seem to find your voice. Your heart thunders as Astarion hooks his hand under the back of your knee and spreads you open, granting him unfettered access to you. You watch, almost hypnotic, as he presses his lips against the smooth expanse of your thigh, and you feel the distinct graze of his fangs as he nips at your skin.

You're trembling again. Astarion kisses slowly up your thigh, stopping right before he reaches your center. “I love you like this,” he murmurs. His tone is low, husky, dripping with want.

“So eager for me. Completely debauched.”

“Please, Astarion…” you whimper. “I want to feel your mouth on me.”

The last thing you see before Astarion buries his face between your slick folds is the sly, wolfish gleam in his eyes, and the instant his tongue touches you you throw your head back and ball your fists in the sheets. With your eyes closed, you become hyper-aware of him between your legs, every move he makes amplified exponentially.

It's simultaneously too much and not enough, and you moan his name obscenely as he teases your entrance, the tip of his nose rubbing against your oversensitive clit. You writhe beneath him, but he clamps a firm hand over your hips to hold you in place.

“Stay still,” he commands. You don't know how you find the willpower to obey, but you somehow manage, though only just. Every nerve ending in your body is alight; you feel weightless and unbound, helpless to do anything but whimper as Astarion feasts on you.

Astarion's tongue slips greedily inside your cunt, tasting your arousal, and he groans again as his hands grip you even tighter. His nails leave little crescent moons peppered across your skin, the grip he has on you nothing if not possessive.

He means to claim every inch of you.

Emboldened by your pleading moans, Astarion lavishes his attention on you, bringing you swiftly to the precipice of another orgasm. With the flat of his tongue pressed against your aching center, he drags himself slowly upwards, stopping only once he's reached your clit and wraps his lips around it. His tongue swirls around the taut bundle of nerves, and your entire body shudders, overcome with a sensation you lack the words to describe.

Vaguely, you feel the way his hips jerk forward, unable to stop himself from rutting into the mattress as he loses himself in the taste of you. He grunts with every thrust, a low rumble in his chest, and the sound alone nearly undoes you completely.

Your hands are in his hair, weaving through his soft curls as you give them a gentle tug.

“Astarion,” you pant, “I – I'm going to –”

His movements quicken, intensifying the pressure building up inside you. And just when you think you can't take anymore, he flicks his tongue against your clit one last time and you shatter completely, a guttural moan tearing itself from your lips. He lets you clamp your thighs around his head as you ride out your second orgasm of the evening, hips bucking wildly as he guides you through it.

Your vision is hazy when you open your eyes and strain to look down at him. The sight of him, pupils-blown and his face slick with your arousal, is an image you immediately commit to memory.

As he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, Astarion sits back on his calves, eyes trained on you. You can feel his gaze raking slowly over your body, admiration and his devotion to you barely concealing the insatiable desire he no longer has the patience to withhold.

You catch him reaching down to fist his cock, still flushed an enticing shade of pink from his earlier feeding. A fat bead of precum glistens at its tip, and he hisses softly as his fingers brush against it.

“You need it, don't you?” he says, pumping himself. “My cock, buried deep inside you, filling you with every thrust.”

He must be imagining it himself; every time his hand glides up his length, he hisses through clenched teeth, fangs digging into his lower lip as his eyes fall half-closed.

“And my mouth... What about that, darling? I'm not quite finished tasting you yet.”

You watch him reverently, transfixed by his every movement. Your voice is raw and strained when you reply, “Oh, gods... Anywhere. Everywhere.”

Astarion huffs a laugh and leans forward, his cock slipping through your slick folds. You can feel the blunt head teasing your entrance, not quite pushing inside, though at this point it would take no effort for him to do so. His willpower must be immense. It's far stronger than yours, at any rate, and you cant your hips upward, whimpering when the head of his cock slips inside you just far enough for you to feel how hard he really is.

“Greedy little thing aren't you?” he says, his eyes darkening. He steadies himself with a hand on your hip and hovers over you, lowering his mouth until he's just above your lips.

“How lucky for you that I'm feeling exceptionally generous tonight.”

He kisses you fiercely now, all tongue and teeth, and you taste yourself again as he coaxes your mouth open.

“How about here?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper. You roll your hips against him again, but he remains infuriatingly still. When he tears his lips from yours, he peppers kisses along your jaw, tracing a searing path down the curve of your neck.

“Or here?”

His tongue sweeps over the bite on your neck, hard enough to reopen the wound he left before. He laps at the trickle of blood and swallows.

“Or perhaps…”

Astarion leaves more kisses across your bare skin, and you know well before he reaches his destination what he plans to do. Your entire body seizes with anticipation, amplifying the pleasure that lances through you like lightning when his mouth finds your nipple and he takes it into his mouth, biting gently on the taut bud.

“Yes!”

Your back arches off the mattress as you cry out, and Astarion finally slams himself inside you, burying himself immediately to the hilt. He wastes no effort to be gentle with you, his hips snapping forward as he fucks into your tight, wet heat with almost reckless abandon. As you expected, his fingers were nothing compared to the delicious stretch of his cock as he bottoms out, again and again and again with each thrust. Every drag of his cock is pure ecstasy, and if not for your delirious state you know you might easily come again from just this alone.

You hear him moan, low and primal in the back of his throat, and you know he won't last long. His fangs are against your skin once more, pressed against the upper part of your breast, and you have only to whimper a quiet, “yes,” before he sinks them into you yet again.

It isn't about the blood – although you won't find him complaining. Rather, he's marking you as his, in a place that only you will see. It isn't the first time he has done so, but it never quite loses its thrill. You bear the marks of his passion all over your body, anywhere and everywhere he's put his hands or his mouth upon you.

“Astarion…” you breathe, wrapping your legs around the small of his back with what little strength you have left. Astarion pulls away from you just enough to grab your hands, interlacing your fingers as he lifts your hands to either side of your head.

“Again,” he growls. “Louder.” He pistons into you, hard and deep, the head of his cock hitting just the right spot to nearly drive you mad. It feels so good you almost forget your own name, let alone his.

“Astarion.” The sound of his name on your lips has a profound effect on him, as does the way your cunt clenches greedily around his cock, and his hands grip yours more tightly as he fucks you even harder. The wet slap of skin on skin intermingles with your shared pants and moans, and you've long since lost track of where your body ends and his begins.

“Astarion!”

The steady rhythm of his hips staggers only slightly, but you know he's all but reached his limit. A sheen of sweat glistens on his skin, his hair limply hanging over his face. But through it all, his eyes still find yours, burning intensely as the hells themselves.

“...fuck –!”

Your name is on his lips like a prayer as he tumbles headfirst into his release, groaning as he spends himself inside you and buries his face into your neck. His hips jerk forward sporadically as he rides out the rest of his climax, not quite willing to pull out even a moment too soon.

As exhausted as you are, you don't complain when he practically collapses on you, his stamina equally spent. All the while, he never lets go of your hands.

He has made good on his word, and you don't have the strength left even to pull him into your arms, and when you try to move it feels as though you're treading through deep water.

“You're going to be the death of me, darling,” you hear Astarion murmur, his face still pressed against the hollow of your throat.

You laugh quietly, and point out the obvious: “You're already dead, Astarion.”

With some effort, he lifts you up and into his lap, arms encircling you in a loose embrace that is the only thing still keeping you upright. You hook your arms clumsily over his shoulders, grinning as he leans forward to capture your lips in a slow, passionate kiss.

“And yet” he remarks, parting from your mouth only as far as he needs to for you to hear him speak. “I've never felt more alive than I do right now.”

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