#or rather its just very dusty

[snickerdoodlesart]

the daily urge to turn your rain world ocs into a mod but not having the modding knowledge to do so.

[tonycries]

One More? Please? - G.S.

Synopsis. A kiss always solves everything! But when a kiss turns into something more…well, it’s only a desperate attempt to unseal yourselves from this damned prison realm, right? Right?

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, unprotected, coworkers to lovers, being stuck in that damn box, oral (female), mutual másturbation, spitting, fáce-sítting, máting press, Satoru is down bad for you, chóking, overstim, multiple rounds, créampie, pet names (sweetheart), swearing.

Word count. 4.4k

A/N. Happy belated two months to this blog! Concept inspired by this post by @kingkonoha.

“Maybe we should kiss and see if the box opens?”

“That’s the dumbest fucking thing to ever come out of your mouth.”

“Hey- it works in the movies! True love’s kiss and all-”

You heave out a heavy sigh that makes even the skeleton at your shoulder shake its head in pity. Goddamn, if these curses weren’t going to kill him then you will. 

“I take it back. That’s the dumbest fucking thing to ever come out of your mouth.”

Satoru hooks a thumb over his blindfold to gaze at you with mock seriousness. Oh, how the mighty have fallen - and how you were teetering dangerously close to a stroke with each dramatic bat of his long lashes.

“C’monnn~” he whines, with the flair of someone that was not sealed in an inescapable prison, “Don’t tell me that in all these years you’ve never once been at least a little tempted to kiss me, sweetheart.” 

“I’d rather kiss that dusty skull.” Shooting him a pointed look that makes even the skulls at your feet recoil. It would almost be hilarious if it wasn’t for the fact that you were trapped. In the prison realm. With Gojo Satoru of all people. Possibly forever.

Shit, is this karma for all those times you ditched Satoru with Nanami instead of dealing with him yourself?

Now, Satoru might be going about it with the subtlety of a sledgehammer, but just a few minutes ago when his life flashed before his very eyes at the mere sight of Suguru - or at least, the monster wearing his body - he’d expected some of his favorite memories to be the ones with you in it. 

You - his lil’ coworker - in all your gorgeous, smart-mouthed glory. And maybe if he was lucky, he even expected a couple glimpses of you in his future. Preferably with a giant rock on your finger.

But that’s a story for another time, what he certainly did not expect was for your stupidly heroic (and quite beautiful) ass to jump right in the middle of the prison realm’s ensnarement. 

Although, honestly, right now he doesn’t think he’d want to be locked up in here with anyone but you - and that withering glare you send him. 

Undeterred, Satoru has the audacity to throw his head back and laugh. Laugh. A sound you’ve come to realize over the years, as innocent as it sounds, does not bode well for you or your sanity. 

A sanity that’s been slowly dwindling since your first day of meeting Satoru. Back then, a brash, cocky new teacher that waltzed into the halls of Jujutsu Tech in those pretentious sunglasses like he owned the place. 

Well, not that he was any different right now. Lounging over some disgruntled skeletons, you half-expected him to pull out a deck chair and start sunbathing amidst the bones. Your begrudging coworker - and occasional bane of your existence - seemed right at home. 

You, however, were decidedly not having the time of your life. 

“I swear, you’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” you grumble, wincing at the bones prodding you from almost every angle. 

“Can you blame me?” he hums, now fully tugging down his blindfold to hang around his neck, “It’s not every day I get to spend quality time with my favorite person in the world.”

You scoff, strangely self-conscious as those striking blue sweep your figure from head to toe. “Lucky me. Well why don’t you spend this quality time helping me figure out how the hell we can get out of here.”

“I already told y-”

“Anything but that.”

With a sulky huff, Satoru peers down at you, “Then we just wait till someone gets us out of here. I’m sure Megumi-chan is just tearing his emo hair out trying to unseal this thing.”

“...”

“You’re absolutely correct, Yuji then. Or…” he tilts his head towards a sad pile of bones, “We end up like our little friend over there. Though I’d make a far better looking skeleton-”

You don’t hear the rest of Satoru’s rant over the small noise of concern that falls from your lips. Something hot and prickly pooling in your stomach at the fact that yes you really were stuck in the prison realm with Gojo Satoru. Possibly forever. And no this wasn’t some strange dream like when you and Shoko accidentally raided the wrong brownie box in the kitchen.

Shit. 

And perhaps it showed on your face, because you’re jolted out of your reverie by warm fingers intertwining with yours. Grounding. Satoru’s eyes now searching yours with an intensity that made you squirm uncomfortably. 

“Hey, we’ll figure this out, okay?” he mutters softly. “Remember that time we accidentally set the training ground on fire?” leaning in closer now, “Or that mission we got chased by that cursed vending machine?”

You roll your eyes, a reluctant smile tugging at the corners of your lips despite yourself. “Yeah, and then you nearly got us killed trying to order a sweet tea. ”

Satoru chuckles, squeezing your hand reassuringly. “See? It worked out, didn’t it? It always does, sweetheart.” 

And if your heart does a strange little lurch, well, then you just blame it on the femur jabbing into your side. 

All is quiet in your little hell. That is, until.

“Hey, Satoru…does kissing really work in the movies?” 

You barely catch the way Satoru’s breath hitches ever-so-slightly as he leans in closer. eyes sparkling with mischief. And oh you knew that look - one that was usually accompanied by a lecture by Yaga, one that sent shivers down your spine. He grins, “Well, there’s only one way to find out, hm?”

Embarrassment and amusement bubbles inside you, tumbling out in the form of a barely-audible, “A peck. One.”

“Awww. Eight?”’

“No.”

“Five?”

“Satoru.”

Minty breath fanning your face, “Okay okay, one peck and a kiss to your forehead. C’mon, it’s a bargain~”

Pinching your nose, you sigh out a weary, “This is so stupid. Fine, but if it doesn’t work then I’m strangling you.”

And it’s all that is said before his lips are on yours.  

Soft. Satoru’s lips were so soft. And he tasted so unfairly of caramel apples and sweet, sweet mischief. Just like him. Feather-light and fleeting - yet the kiss burns into your brain with an intensity that you strangely didn’t mind.

It’s over before you know it. The cold air hits your lips as Satoru’s words ring in your ears, a disappointed little, “Aw, that didn’t work.”

Barely even risking a glance at the still very sealed realm, your body reacts before your mind - the expensive cotton of his uniform collar soft against your fingers as you pull Satoru towards you with a sense of urgency you can’t quite explain.

And then you’re kissing him. And he’s kissing you because shit this is all that Satoru’s been dreaming about since he turned 23 and suddenly realized that oh you were frighteningly everything that he ever wanted. 

“S-Satoru,” you whisper, breathless against his lips. 

“Shhhh, my girl. One more. Didn’t work.” 

His lips are searing on yours. Urgent and greedy, because fuck if it took getting trapped in the prison realm to finally kiss you then God knows when he’ll be able to again. 

Which is why he breathes you in like he doesn’t have enough time, and probably never will - even in this godforsaken box where time never passes. 

“Shit. O-one more.”

Drinking in your sweet gasps as he intertwines his tongue with yours, tasting how sinfully delicious you were. Satoru’s hands wander the expanse of your body, cupping your head to kiss you deeper, snaking down to squeeze your ass - and everything in between. 

Pulling away ever-so-slightly with a playful bite to your bottom lip, he leaves a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck. The disappointed whine that leaves your pretty mouth makes all the blood in Satoru’s body rush to his cock. 

“Sweetheart.” he grunts into the crook of your neck, lips ghosting over your racing pulse. “Y’think I kissed the wrong lips?”

Oh? 

Satoru’s words send a jolt of electricity running down your spine - all the way down to your heated cunt. “W-what?” you managed to choke out, cheeks flaring as he raises his eyes to meet yours and-

Oh.

Oh, shit. If the curses weren’t going to kill you then Satoru sure might. 

You’re snapped out of your thoughts by Satoru carefully jostling the two of you so that he’s lying on his back, your body manhandled to straddle his pretty face. 

“Satoru, when you mean ‘wrong lips’...here?” you trail off, still reeling from him and the abrupt change in position and him. 

“Exactly what I mean,” he chuckles, the sound rumbling through his chest and vibrating beneath your dripping cunt. “Now, spread ‘em wider f’me. Let me taste you- Need it s’bad.”

Body moving as if on autopilot, your knees part wider to let him greedily take in the sight of your soaked panties. Beads of slick seeping through the thin fabric each time his hot breath meets your cunt. 

But not for long - the cool air hits you before you realize what’s happening. Because Satoru is ripping your flimsy panties off with one hand. Throwing it behind to God-knows-where with the urgency of a madman. 

“Shit, so wet f’me already.” he groans, mouth watering at the obscene sight of you clenching around nothing. “S’gorgeous. You really are perfect everywhere, huh?” he mutters through lazy, languid kisses along your thighs. Tongue darting out just so to leisurely trace circles along the heated skin. 

Strong arms wrap around your thighs, the stretch nothing with the two long fingers spreading your swollen folds apart. Your face burns from just how adoring Satoru looks below you.

You buck into his touch, “Hngh- Please. Wan’ your mouth on me.”

And perhaps the great Gojo Satoru decided to be merciful for once in his life, because without another word, he’s surging forward. Tongue flicking out to tease your sloppy entrance, pooling your juices before tipping his head back, back, back to let it slide down his throat so sinfully.

Shit, Satoru could just cum in his pants right now, of course you taste heavenly. Better than he could’ve ever imagined on any lonely night. 

You shudder as he flattens his tongue across your folds, sliding teasingly between them, grazing your swollen clit just barely at an unhurried rhythm that almost has Satoru forgetting where he was. But quite frankly, he couldn’t give less of a fuck about it either.

“This what you wanted, sweetheart?” he hums around your clit, the vibrations making you squeal. Sucking gently, tongue rolling harshly against your bundle of nerves, over and over- “Cause it’s what I’ve been wanting for years.”

The words ring in your ears almost as much as the lewd squelches below. Years?

“F-fuck- feels hngh- What do you mean y-years, Satoru?” 

Oh, Satoru thinks he could pass out just at the way you whine out his name so prettily. Eyes rolling to the back of his head, a hand hastily snaking down to unbuckle his pants. “Mhmm~ Couldn’t go a day without sparring with you where I didn’t think of bending you over and tasting you right there y’know.”

Your eyes snap down to meet Satoru’s hazy, half-lidded ones. Something dark and feral shining within them. And right now, thighs wrapped around his head, you don’t think he’s ever looked happier. White locks splayed out, a fucked-out expression on his face as his tongue bullies past your folds, you could feel the slight smile curling his lips against you. 

It’s overwhelming - both his confession and the way Satoru was making out with your cunt like a man starved.

Nose-deep in your pussy, tongue alternating between its abuse on your throbbing clit and dipping in and out of your sloppy hole at a maddening pace. Mouth only speeding up ruthlessly at the way you convulse and grind involuntarily on top of him.

God, Satoru was going insane at the way your walls were sucking him up so good, clamping down with each push of his tongue. 

“Shit- made jus’ f’me. You like that, don’t you?” he growls against your cunt, voice hoarse with desire. “Like fucking my face with your pussy?”

“Oh! Ngh, yes Satoru- L-love it-”

A bruising grip on your hips, encouraging you to rock against his face. Harder. Tongue more desperate. He couldn’t get enough. Meeting your every grind, tongue lapping at your cunt so obscenely. 

Breaths ragged and hot against your cunt, drinking you in with the desperation of a man that wouldn’t mind giving up air for your essence. And it was Satoru - of course he wouldn’t mind.

Especially with the large hand snaking up your thigh, going from drawing reassuring patterns at your hips to rubbing tight, little circles on your pulsing clit. Hasty, and urgent - like he had no time to waste. “Tha’s right, my girl. Give it up for me,”

Every cell in your body is on fire, every nerve ending singing with pleasure at the way Satoru plays your body like an instrument. 

“M’close, Satoru- Hah- s’close.” you moan breathlessly, a hand tangling in his soft strands. Using it as leverage to ride Satoru’s pretty face just the way you like it.

But you didn’t have to - because Satoru seems to already know exactly what to do. Exactly how to quirk his tongue just right to brush against all your most sensitive spots. Exactly how to match the rhythm of his abuse on your clit to the way he was tonguefucking you into delirium. Exactly how to look at you with such a hungry expression that devours you almost as much as his mouth. 

“Cum f’me, sweetheart.”

Satoru didn’t even have to ask. Because you’re cumming with a strangled gasp of his name. White-hot pleasure coursing through you like lightning, body trembling as you cum all over Satoru’s pretty face. 

Hands moving your limp, boneless hips across his face, forcing you to ride out peak after peak on his red lips.

As the blood roaring in your ears bates, and you blink back your vision, the first thing you see are those familiar blue eyes gazing up at you. Holding you steady, lips brushing gentle kisses along your inner thighs. 

Oh, how beautiful he was like this.

“S-S’toru?” you mewl, still sensitive from your orgasm as Satoru shifts underneath you to sit you prettily in his lap.

“Mhm?” he nuzzles your neck.

“One more. It didn’t work.”

Oh, if you knew the only way to shut up Gojo Satoru was to say something like this then you would’ve done it a lot sooner. 

But Satoru’s stunned silence doesn’t last for long, because he grins, low and sultry, “You’re right. It didn’t work.”

The metallic clinking of a belt echoes in the stuffy chamber as Satoru hastily pushes down his pants. Cock springing free to hit his lower abs, “What a shame.”

You blink at the sheer size of him - he was going to split you in two. It was unfair, really. Water is wet. Gojo Satoru has a big dick. 

But oh was he pretty - so pretty.  Prominent veins glistening in the dim lighting, fat tip flushed your favorite shade of delicate pink, leaking furiously in between your thighs.

Gulping, you reach out to wrap your hand around his achingly hard cock. So warm and heavy in your hands. “Y-yeah, what a shame.”

Both of you watch - entranced - at the way he twitches in your grasp at the mere sound of your voice. A maddening little bump! bump! bump! against your palm as you begin pumping him slowly - so agonizingly slow. 

“Oh- Feel s’good, sweetheart.” Satoru hisses lowly as you swipe at the precum beading at this head. Thumbing teasingly under his sensitive slit, tracing delicately along his veins. 

And by God does it do something to you to see the great Gojo Satoru falling apart for you, hair tousled, lips kiss-bitten, and eyes looking at you like he wanted to positively eat you alive. It made your cunt throb so desperately, slick forming a dark wet patch on his trousers. 

Not one to be left behind, his long fingers deftly snake down to your dripping cunt. Not wasting any time before bullying his fingertips past your swollen folds, curling expertly to press down against that one spot that has your fist faltering on his cock. Hard. 

Pretty little moans left your lips at the way Satoru so easily matches your pace. Thrusting knuckle-deep into your pussy in and out - hitting that spot over and over.

“Shit, Toru- s’deep inside me. I’m- hngh-”

Satoru was in heaven, really. You were so warm and wet around both his fingers and his throbbing cock. 

Only two thoughts running through his mind right now - 1. He was right, your hands were softer and more sinfully delicious around his swollen cock. And 2. The hardest battle he’s ever fought was probably right now - at your mercy, trying not to spill all over your hands because he’d be damned if he finally scored the girl and came in two seconds.

Shit, he thinks fingers almost erratic now, he needs you to cum. Right now. 

As if sensing his urgency, your moves become more frantic, Satoru’s brows furrowing at the way you increase your pace. His hips twitch, as if trying to thrust into your fist. matching your pace as you start stroking him harder, faster. 

Ah, but alas, the great Gojo Satoru’s reputation precedes him. 

“Oh, fuck- M’gonna-” And soon enough, you’re seeing stars behind your eyes - or maybe those were tears - as you cum. Hard. 

Body moving before your mind, you’re clenching around Satoru’s fingers, grinding down so ferally as you edge him closer and closer. “C’mon, Toru. One more, right?” you whisper brokenly, lips ghosting his ear.

Breath coming in short, strained gasps of what sounded like your name now, “Oh- fuck ngh- so close.” he warns, voice hoarse. “If you keep doing that, I won’t be responsible for what happens next.”

You smirk, raising a brow, “Is that a threat, Satoru?”

Willing his fucked-out eyes open, they bore into yours as he utters, “No, ah- it’s a p-promise.”

Without warning, Satoru clasps your wrists, forcing you to stop pumping him. The disappointed mewl threatening to spill from your lips is cut off just as your back hits the ground.

Slam!

You think you could almost get whiplash from how swiftly Satoru had you caged and splayed out so shamefully beneath him. 

You whine, “But you didn’t even get to-”

“Fuck, not now. Gotta feel you or else m’gonna cum so embarrassingly all over your fist.” He rests his throbbing erection laid out so enticingly across your stomach, leaking hot precum onto your skin. And that makes you shut up, eyes mapping where it ended and realizing that yeah, you might’ve faced more mercy with the curses outside of this box. “Besides. One more, right?”

And before you can respond, Satoru’s spitting on you once. Twice. Thrice.

You flinch as the wads of saliva hit your dripping cunt, mixing with your slick so obscenely as Satoru smears it across your swollen folds. Your mouth drops into a soft oh! of disbelief as he promptly pops his thumb into his mouth, groaning at the taste. 

“Shit.” Satoru hisses lowly, “One more might just not be enough.”

Not wasting a moment longer, he’s bullying his throbbing cock into your snug cunt. Head thrown back as your plush walls desperately try to accommodate his size.

“Oh. Oh shit hah- should’ve been locked up here ngh- sooner.” he groans, words straight from his cock. “Feel s’heavenly around m-me.” Because God Satoru thinks he wouldn’t even mind staying here for the rest of his life if it meant he got to have you like this.

You moan at the positively delicious stretch of your pussy, plush walls unable to decide between pushing him out and milking the soul out of him. “Hah- Toru s’too big. I can’t-” 

“You will.” he grits out, teeth clenched and brows furrowed as he focuses on letting you adjust. Pressing inch by fucking inch. Eyes rolling to the back of his head as he fights that feral part of himself that just wants to plunge into your pretty pussy till his tip kisses your cervix, and you’re drunk on nothing but his cock.

But he didn’t have to - because you’re immediately wrapping your legs around his toned waist, pulling Satoru to you recklessly until his heavy balls smack your ass. Tufts of snowy white hair - already so wet with your slick and his precum - finally meeting your cunt.

“Ah! Shit, s’full Toru.” you keen, body bowing into his.

There’s not even a hair's breadth between your bodies now as Satoru chuckles darkly. “You little minx. Thought you couldn’t handle me, but you really wanted to be split apart on my cock, huh?”

You feel almost shy under his gaze as you mumble out a quiet little, “Well you did say one more.”

Ah, Satoru thinks deliriously, if you aren’t Mrs. Gojo by the time you two get out of this then there’s seriously something wrong with him. 

But he doesn’t tell you that. Instead with a satisfied smirk, he claims your lips in a searing kiss, sucking your tongue so lewdly as he did with your cunt. Parting for only a second before pressing his lips to yours again. And again. And again, as if it hurt to part.

“Mhm. Always wanted to do this, sweetheart.” he hums against your pretty lips. “Fuck ever since you hah- walked in on that first day.” 

Kissing you sweetly with a tenderness that doesn’t translate to his hips as pulls back, back, back. All the way till his angry, hard tip was just grazing your sloppy entrance. “One more.”

Body moving before his mind, his hips start fucking into your dripping cunt recklessly. Satoru doesn’t fuck you with the finesse he imagined he would all these years, rough, harsh thrusts fueled by pure need and all the desperation from these last few years.

In one, fluid movement, the burn of the stretch hits you before the realization that Satoru has thrown your legs over his sculpted shoulders. 

“Ah- So good, Toru. Oh my god- hah-” you mewl at the change in angle. His pulsing dick expertly hitting that one spot inside you which has your words slurring together, body arching off the floor to press so impossibly close against him. 

And, well, Satoru isn’t any better - because he’s slamming his cock into you mindlessly. Hitting that spot over and over. 

With one hand, he caresses your stomach. Whispering out a ragged, “Feel me inside? Feel me right…” Pressing his palm down hard, “Here.”

The other forces you to look up at him, drinking in your whines of “Yes yes yes, can feel you s-so deep hngh- inside me, Toru.” 

You’re so cockdrunk and full of Satoru that you barely notice the hands groping their way down your body. Catching harshly on your swollen clit, starting to draw, quick, frenzied circles that match the cadence of his hips smacking into yours. 

“Look at me.” he murmurs raspily, “Open your mouth.”

And you can do nothing but take it, tongue lolling out so lewdly for the warm stream of spit that hits it. Once. Twice. 

You look up at him with teary eyes, as you take it all -  anything and everything he was giving. And it makes Satoru bow his head with a fucked-out groan, cock twitching so animalistically as it keeps plunging inside you roughly. Deft fingers on your clit becoming more desperate.

Harder. Faster. Balls squeezing so painfully. Like a lamb to slaughter, he was going to eat you up - and you were going to let thim.

You squeal at the overstimulation, hips bucking up for more more more-

“God, sweetheart, you don’t know what you do to me.” he moans, voice strained with desire and the euphoria of getting everything he’s wanted for so long. It was driving him insane. “Now c’mon. One more. Give me one more like my good girl.”

“Hngh- yes- Toru!”

You don’t even know what “one more” means anymore - all you do know is that you’re cumming and cumming all around Satoru’s unforgiving cock. Walls fluttering so snugly, your body convulses as you cream around his cock. Nails dragging down the expanse of his sculpted back, Satoru’s name leaving your bruised lips and into the heady air like a prayer every time his tip kisses your cervix. His new favorite melody.

And that seems to be what makes him snap as well - because with a final, sloppy thrust, he’s painting your walls such a sinful white. Pumping thick, hot ropes of his cum into your quivering cunt. 

“Shit- yeah, my girl. Take it. Take it all f’me.” Satoru shudders above you, head thrown back, chest heaving as he fucks you through your high. Movements nothing more than shallow, mindless little thrusts to get you both off so animalistically. 

It was so fucking filthy - and exactly what you needed so badly. He was exactly what you needed so badly. 

Now, Satoru only had to take one look as you use him so obscenely for your pleasure - eyes dazed, drool trickling down the corner of your mouth - before he thinks he might just cum again. And again. And again until he physically couldn’t anymore.

But first…

Pulling out of your heavenly pussy with a lewd pop! His long fingers delicately collects the mixture of slick and cum now gushing out of you obscenely. 

Aw, what a waste, Satoru muses as it pools below you sinfully. If it was up to him he wouldn’t waste a single drop from your pretty cunt. 

But no matter. 

Abruptly, Satoru bullies two fingers into your mouth - forcing you to taste yourself, to taste him. Pressing right at the back of your tongue in a way that has you choking and gagging around him, teary eyes just begging up at him. Perfect - you were so perfect for him. 

Kissing your forehead with a tenderness that doesn’t match his actions, he hums, faux innocence lacing his words, “What a shame, the box didn’t open yet.”

And oh does he love the excitement lighting up your exhausted eyes. Pretty thighs twitching underneath him as a slow, fucked-out little smile curls your lips. 

“One more? Please?”

A/N. Plagiarism not authorized.

[ozzgin]

Yandere! Werewolf Headcanons

I've been stalked by the guilty feeling that my Romanian Werewolf boy got a lot of backstory but not much romance or interaction. So there you have it: some headcanons featuring the ancient Beast, a post-kidnapping sequel.

Content: female reader, obsessive behavior, monster romance, mild NSFW at the end, ridiculously older yandere

You followed the gargantuan stranger back into the city, leaving the bloodbath behind as if it was just a distant dream. Admittedly, you’d expected to be dragged into some mountainous cave or an abandoned mansion, not the cozy - albeit a little dusty - apartment on a main, historical street. On second thought, he did function as a human outside of his monstrous escapades, so it made sense. “Is this your place?”, you sheepishly asked while he wiped the thick layers of blood off him. “One of them, yes”, he answered curtly. “It’s central”, you remarked, trying to make conversation. “Well, I didn’t know about it back then. It’s been a few decades.”

Your ears perked up at the words. Gazing at his features, he didn’t seem necessarily aged to you. The deep creases contouring his face felt more like a sign that he’s lived sorrows beyond most people’s comprehension. “How old are you?” You finally asked as curiosity replaced your initial fear. He abruptly stopped his movements and leaned back, brows furrowed in deep contemplation. “I’m not so sure anymore. I was born in the 80s”, he concluded. “That’s not too far back, is it?” You inquired, this time more relaxed. “80 BC, I meant. You do the math.”

He freshened himself up as you counted the millennia on your fingers, frowning in confusion. He chuckled at your intense focus, then quickly looked up into the mirror. When was the last time he smiled like this? The reflection was a foreign sight to him. “We’ll get you everything you need tomorrow”, he continued, still in a daze. What a strange idea, having someone to speak to after an eternity. And suddenly, it occurred to him just how rusted his communication had gotten: “I’m so sorry, I haven’t asked for your name once”, he said, embarrassed. “It’s (Y/N). And you are...?" Might as well introduce yourself to your benevolent captor.

The dreaded question. How did they call him back in the day? He hasn't had anyone spell it out for him, nor did he feel the need at any point to say it himself. Why would he? He hadn't anticipated meeting you. With pursed lips, he searched his mind. Eventually, from the depths or memories, from days of yore, it made its way back: "Daos."

Given your first gory encounter (where he quite literally murdered everyone else), you were surprised to find out he's otherwise a calm and polite individual. Well, he's had centuries to mature, you suppose. You've also noticed he has that rather old-fashioned chivalry to him. He's very attentive despite his stoic demeanor, and often follows with acts of service.

"You're insulting me. I can carry this myself with ease", you'll argue. "I never doubted you can. Nonetheless, it is my wish to do it for you."

As the days pass, your reluctance seems to vanish as well. In fact, you've become particularly cheeky, encouraged by his warm, unperturbed behavior. Maybe you haven't gotten the worst deal out there, after all.

"You know, you talk like an old man", you've teased him once. He was visibly taken aback by your statement, and you could discern a faint blush on his face. "Do I? My apologies, I haven't spoken to anyone in a long time. I'm not familiar with modern speech. Have I embarrassed you somehow?"

He spends his free time reading, though he will frequently take you on walks. It's an interesting affair to say the least. You can feel the curious eyes of the passersby and hear their not-so-discreet whispered gossip. You can't truly blame them: Daos is enormous even as a human. He towers above everyone else with his imposing appearance. To match, his voice is deep and coarse as a result of not using it much until recently.

The ancient werewolf is a living history book. If asked, he will narrate to you important events or details you might be curious about regarding his culture. Once, when he'd been in a good mood, he even shared fragments of his life before turning into a creature. He'd been a high-ranked Dacian warrior, spending his days training or fighting. He still remembers the flag he carried with bitter fondness, yet another irony to his fate: a wolf-headed serpent. It was meant to showcase their way of life; barbarians with no fear of death. They'd greeted the Roman Empire with nothing but a sword and a shield, no shred of doubt.

He might've been betrayed by his people, but the pride remains. The pride of a soldier who's never known defeat. You learned quickly that his beastly form doesn't count as a significant change by any means, save for appearances. The man has brute strength even as a human. You'd once strayed from his view, and a stranger approached with a daring whistle, gawking you up and down. Before you could react, Daos clawed him by the throat. You heard the twist of the skin and the creak of the bones giving in to the immense pressure of his large hand.

"It's the second time I have exposed you to such unpleasant sights", he said, discarding the body as if it was any other garbage. "Forgive me, but I will not have you disrespected like this."

He is very much aware he's taken you away from the world out of his own selfish desire. The fact that you accepted it is more than he could ever ask for. That's what he keeps telling himself, even as his eyes wander to your lips whenever you speak. Or as his hand lingers a moment too long against the curve of your back. Or as he hungrily takes in your scent whenever you're nearby.

He might be unhealthily possessive of you, but Daos will never do anything against your will. No matter how obvious his urges are. In fact, no amount of flirting or teasing will shake his resolve. You will have to be very direct with your approval.

Once the reality settles in, he'll become extremely affectionate, bordering on obsessive. To think he could have you in every way possible. Oh, he's waited thousands of years for you. All the suffering, the loneliness, the anger, they're stripped of any meaning now that he has you.

The city strolls at an awkward distance have since become a habitual excuse to hold your hand and show you off to the mortals. The quiet evenings of passing time with a book now include your merely noticeable weight cuddled into his lap. You didn't expect him to be this adoring. Being touch-starved for millennia counts as one reason, naturally, but there's more to it, so much more. And it all leads back to you.

He is a little taken aback when you ask him to do the deed in his werewolf form. "Don't be foolish. I can't overcome my instincts as well when I'm a creature. I could harm you", he'll lecture you. "Besides, you can barely take it as it currently is", he'll add, smirking at your baffled expression. It seems he's picked up on your cheekiness.

After a lot of pleading and waiting for the right moment - when he's ravaging you in a daze - he finally agrees. True to his word, his tune instantly changes. The tender hold turns into a desperate grasp sinking into your skin, and the thrusts become irregular, almost frantic. His drool cools your burning cheeks as you hold onto the coarse fur, feverish and overwhelmed.

His golden eyes rest on the small human squirming underneath him, and suddenly, he can't help but notice: you have the perfect birthing hips.

[ldrfanatic]

this happens once every few lifetimes

mattheo riddle x reader

synopsis - reader transfers to hogwarts from ilvermorny. she and mattheo fall in love with each other at first sight.

warnings - none, i think?

listened to while writing - the alchemy by taylor swift

i have a clara bow theo one in the works right now that i'm excited to drop at some point. ngl this gif of benjamin in deadly class inspired this idea A LOT.

part two?

slytherin boys works

you waited with baited breath outside of the great hall.

any moment now the doors would swing open and albus dumbledore, who you knew only through legend, would announce your transfer to hogwarts.

it was terrifying honestly. leaving ilvermorny was indescribably difficult. but when your father got a job opportunity at the british ministry of magic, it was decided. already you were feeling overwhelmed. you'd done your research but hogwarts was much larger than ilvermorny. it was much older as well, and thus had gained a reputation over a thousand years of producing some of the greatest witches and wizards the world has ever seen.

the large magnificent doors opened and every pair of eyes was on you.

you walked forward with sweaty palms, subtly attempting to dry them on your plain, black hogwarts robes. another change. the wardrobe was much more strict here than back in america. and where every student at ilvermorny wore the same blue and gold, students at hogwarts wore colors representative of their house.

finally, you reached the end of the walkway and stood face to face with a dusty and rather ancient looking hat. to your light surprise, it spoke. a woman whom you'd met briefly beforehand, professor mcgonnagall, picked up the hat gently and motioned for you to sit on the stool.

it was time to be sorted into one of hogwarts four houses. you'd been in wampus, the house of the warrior, at ilvermorny, and despite hours of research, you couldn't distinguish what the hogwarts equivalent would be. all four houses seemed to be good choices but there was one in particular that stood out to you.

no shorter or longer than exactly fifteen seconds after the sorting hat touched your head, a declaration was made.

"slytherin!"

an older student in green robes gestured you over to the table on the far right. not wanting to sit at the very front and continue to be gawked at, you briskly walked a little further down and took a seat at the middle of the table.

once you'd taken your seat, dumbledore began to explain that hogwarts would be hosting the triwizard tournament this year. after a flashy introduction from beauxbatons and durmstrang, you effectively decided that you were not the most interesting shiny new toy at hogwarts this year and silently thanked the universe for this turn of events.

at last, it was announced that you could eat and the tables filled with food. all around you students' plates began magically creating complex dishes. there were even some dinners that held food that you were sure you couldn't see anywhere on the table.

frustrated, you stared down at your empty plate. it was a long journey to hogwarts. you were hungry and quite frankly tired of things being so different. if one more complicated situation made its appearance at this school, you were undoubtedly going to lose it.

"just think about a food you really want to eat. it can be anything."

a boy next to you with brown hair and bright blue eyes leaned over. a thick italian accent levied on his deep voice.

you closed your eyes and thought about a delicious juicy cheeseburger with golden-crisp french fries. sure enough, when you opened your eyes, your plate had filled with food.

absolutely giddy with glee, you turned to thank the mystery man.

"no problem. i'm theodore nott. this is draco malfoy next to me."

the platinum blonde boy didn't even look up to acknowledge your existence. theodore, seemingly sensing your mild displeasure, spoke up.

"don't mind him. welcome to slytherin house. riddle, say hello to our newest recruit."

the dark haired boy directly across from you who you assumed was 'riddle' did in fact look over from his conversation with a boy with a chestnut colored complexion. yet, when your eyes found his, he didn't say hello.

he didn't say anything actually. he just sort of stared. as you held eye contact, it was like lightning running through your veins and sizzling at your fingertips.

for a moment, you wondered if he'd ever seen a person before.

then, as if he'd snapped out of a daze, a gentle smile played at his lips. dark curls fell over his brown eyes that seemed to sparkle the longer you looked at them.

his large hand crept over the table until it was outstretched towards you with a kind smile.

"mattheo."

you shook his hand with a shy smile. mattheo was currently looking at you like you were the only thing that mattered. in fact, your little interaction had gone on so long that theodore and the boy mattheo had been speaking with had both strucken up conversation with other students at the table.

"y/n."

mattheo eyed your appearance. his gaze flickered across your face, then to your hair, and all over the parts of your body he could see.

"sorry if this is a little awkward, but i can't remember the last time i was this captivated by someone." mattheo finally released your hand and you had to stop yourself from begging him not to.

"welcome to slytherin house. you're in the snake's nest now, beautiful."

---

7.8.2024

[cheollipop]

⚜ 𝙤𝙗𝙨𝙚𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙤𝙣

navi | taglist

pairing: choi san x fem!reader

w.c.: 6.5k

genre: mafia au, smut, mutual pining, some fluff, tiny bit of angst, some dark themes, slightly ambiguous ending

In a city where the mere whisper of his name sent shivers of terror through its core, Choi San's barbarous reputation proved powerless to dissuade you from delving deeper, the glint in the feline eyes cast upon you exposing a sliver tenderness hidden beneath the façade of bloodlust.

⚜ warnings: mentioned death/murder (no one significant), insensitivity from all major characters to said murder, san is lowkey psychotic, and an asshole, reader is a badass bitch, gun play (kinda?), service/soft dom!san, bratty!reader, unprotected sex (👎), kinda public sex, exhibitionism, mutual masturbation, creampie, begging, praise, some cockwarming, san gets whiny, he is whipped your honour, not your typical mafia boss ehehe, nicknames (baby, darling; sannie), I believe that's it. ^^

⚜ A/N: this is entirely self-indulgent. who doesn't want a psychotic mafia boss obsessing over their very being? happy reading! ^_^

nsfw under the cut—minors dni 🔞

Another day dragging on for far too long, tedious — incompetent employees getting paid to induce headaches rather than doing their jobs, new clients unaware of who they’d gotten themselves involved with, augmenting the torturous panging against San’s skull. His eyebrow twitched, a bead of sweat hanging onto the thick hairs, another trailing down the ink decorating his slick chest. He’d thought a late-night rendezvous would silence the ringing in his head, but the cheap perfume, the bright lipstick, the obnoxious, high-pitched tone of her voice only amplified it. And yet, the woman now laid beneath him, his fingers digging into one of her tits while pornographic moans rolled off her tongue. With her head thrown back, she missed the grimace painting San’s features, but his hips were undeterred, continuing their ruthless rhythm while her ringing voice pierced through his eardrums. He just needed release, even if it were aided by a woman he had not a lick of interest in.

The door cracked open, a bleached head of hair peeking into the hotel room before his tall frame followed to stand in the doorway. San didn’t stop, simply shutting his eyes to drown out his surroundings and the pain shooting through his head.

“We’ve got trouble, boss,�� the gravelly tone dragged San’s attention away from the distractions he attempted to draw up in his mind, eyes cracking open with an irked exhale.

“Important enough for you to interrupt me?” he spat, his thrusts now pointed in aggravation.

The man’s gulp masked under the continuous moans, he averted his gaze off the woman’s spread legs to explain, “a fight broke out in our Seoul location.”

San’s rhythm faltered, an unnoticeable hitch, but enough to stir up images of a familiar face, sly grin and confident walk followed by the sweet scent of vanilla and cheap tobacco. A subtle wink as you replaced the drinks his men had ordered for him with ones that would spare him the added flush, ears and chest tinted a dusty pink while he fought off the heaviness weighing down his eyelids. Sultry voice and swaying hips, the memory of fleeting touches and fluttering eyelashes sent urgent waves of heat scorching through San’s body, unwanted, vivid images of your haunting form flashing in his mind before he could stop them. But he pushed them away, prominent vein trailing down his forehead as he fought off the unrelieved headache, slapping a palm over smudged, red-tinted lips to muffle the agitating sound.

“Is that all, Mingi-ya?” he moved his gaze to the man at his side without twisting his head, watching as he straightened up at the sudden eye-contact.

“We’ve got casualties, Sir,” Mingi added, drawing a frustrated sigh out of San.

Pistoning his hips once, twice more, he pulled out, swiping his saliva-coated palm over the woman’s trembling thigh before finding his footing over the carpeted floor. He tossed the condom into some random corner, tucking himself back into his pants before snatching the luxury coat dangling from Mingi’s hand, the taller man’s eyes flitting to the side to avoid ogling at all the exposed skin. Just as they were about to take their leave, manicured fingers grasped San’s sleeve, arms drawn closer to her body to cram her breasts together in an act of seduction, bedroom eyes peering up at the tattooed man.

“Are you just going to leave me here like this?”

San didn’t hide his grimace, “it’s late, go home,” he retrieved his coat, tugging his arm away rougher than intended to make his way to the room’s exit. He paused at the doorway, turning his head slightly to address the dejected woman abandoned on the lush, silk bedsheets, “and call your husband back, he must be worried sick.”

He didn’t wait for a response, walking into the hallway to meet with two more guards, Mingi following closely behind. “Jongho, you’re coming with me,” he addressed the broader of the two, then turned to the other, “and you,” he angled his chin towards the door left ajar, “get rid of her.”

--

Walking past the swung-open door resting against the frame with broken hinges, glass shards cracking underneath heavyset boots, San took in the scattered bodies splayed out over the wooden floor. He grimaced, thousands of dollars’ worth of imported liquor pooling under shattered bottles, blending into a concoction reeking of alcohol poisoning. Bullets lodged into the polished bar reflected the orange hue in which the room basked in, stools broken and thrown into the walls and windows, splintered pieces of wood lying amongst the lifeless figures scattered over the floorboards.

“What a mess,” Mingi muttered, taking in the scene with repugnance unhidden in his expression.

“Looks exactly like something the both of you would do,” San’s retort was instant, “wasn’t it just last week, Jongho?”

His tone was void of any judgement, simply recalling his men’s afternoon endeavors, and yet, Jongho’s ears flashed red as he stuttered through a flustered response, reaffirming San’s memory of the incident. His eyes shot a glare up at the taller man as soon as San looked away, “just keep your mouth shut, Mingi-ya,” he elbowed his side, unappreciative of Mingi’s attempts at earning him another lecture about the improper use of his gun.

While the two bickered wordlessly, pinching and shoving the other’s side, San walked further into the bar, looking around for another sign of life while gnawing at his bottom lip, evidence of his night-long rendezvous trickling down his temples in salty beads of sweat.

“Where’s our staff?” his voice cut through the silence, as well as the guards’ banter, the two straightening up to address his inquiry.

“Changbin called it in, ‘said most were okay but a few got caught in the crossfire,” Mingi spoke, tone steady and hooded eyes focused on San, “they’ve all left already, I believe.”

“You believe?” Narrowing his eyes at the two men, he snarled before huffing in umbrage. “I don’t pay you to fucking believe.” It wasn’t Mingi’s doing, he knew, but he’d rather berate the two men before him than admit to the anxiety crawling up his chest, blocking his airway with a lump large enough to restrict his breathing. “Did he say anything about—” he attempted to maintain the resonance in which he spoke in, clearing his throat before proceeding, “what about—”

“—Looking for me?”

A sharp turn to his side was all it took to ease the tension stiffening his shoulders, a deep breath escaping his lungs when his eyes settled on you: hand on your hip while leaning you weight onto one leg, the corners of your glossy lips upturned into a smile that sent his heart racing.

“Y/n,” he sighed, rotating his body to face yours, arms limp at his sides while his features softened at the mere sight of you before him. Choi San with his guard down was a luxury not many could revel in.

“What’s with your face? Don’t tell me you were worried about me?” you teased, swaying your hips as you took a few steps towards his broad form, only a few inches separating your bodies where you were stood now.

Close enough to run a hand over the hair covering the side of your head, San’s lips curled into a playful smirk, “oh baby, I bet you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

You hummed pleasantly at the gentle fingers gliding over your scalp, teeth digging into your bottom lip before releasing to purr back a response, “very much so.”

The aroma of cheap cigarettes followed you, laced with hints of vanilla and caramel, the specs of ash dusting the sunken collar of your top exposing the smoke break you’d taken while chaos unfolded during your late shift.

The bullets lodged into wood glimmered in his peripheral, and his amusement dwindled as he pushed through the intoxicating haze your proximity cast upon his senses. Eyebrows furrowed, his gaze traveled over your body while firm hands ran over your sides and waist, peering over your shoulder and twisting you in front of him while he questioned, “fuck, are you hurt?”

To his surprise, you exhaled a breathy laugh, mischief glinting in your irises, “hurt?” The coyness in your tone didn’t go unnoticed, but the arm reaching behind you did, and before he could react, you had San at your mercy with the nose of your pistol dug into the skin underneath his chin. Leaning further into his space, your lips stretched further at the raised hand stopping the two men at the door from reaching for their own weapons. You tilted your head while addressing him, faux innocence painting your features, “who do you think finally killed that bastard while the men you hired were too busy shitting their pants?”

His eyes followed yours to his right, the bastard in question sprawled out near the entrance with a bullet rooted between his eyebrows. Even with the pistol firmly boring into his skin, the corners of San’s lips quirked upwards, redirecting his focus to take you in with dazed, unreadable eyes. “Oh, darling,” rough, broken knuckles grazed your jaw, his lips widening as you unconsciously leaned into the touch, “just when I thought I couldn’t want you more.”

Eyebrows shooting up — the first hint of surprise flashing over your features — a blend of amusement and curiosity seeped into your expression, “oh?”

He walked you backwards, guiding you with the pistol pressing an indent into his flesh and a hand spreading warmth over your lower back, stopping his pointed steps once the wooden edge of the bar replaced the heated touch. He towered over you, leaning you back slightly over the glossy surface with lidded eyes studying your unchanging expression, the tip of his pointer tracing a languid line down the side of your face. Despite the gruesome scene surrounding you, and the firmness in which you held onto the pistol’s handle, your features were relaxed, easy smile gracing your lips and head tilted slightly in a discrete attempt to chase the gentle gesture. Choi San was not gentle, but one thing he did was make exceptions, unconcealable tenderness breaking through a rigid exterior to bleed into his calloused touch, to glimmer within narrowed eyes, and shape the honeyed words rolling off his otherwise sharp tongue.

Choi San didn’t make exceptions, scratch that. He made an exception.

To say he had been intrigued by you would be an understatement, years passing with him making time to drop by when he rarely ever needed to, making excuses to conceal his interest in a particular bartender who knew about his low-tolerance — classified information only a select few knew of —sneaking non-alcoholic beverages his way when he got pressured into drinking after a successful deal had been made in her presence. And despite the confidence oozing off you, shoulders straight and chin lifted as you batted your eyelashes flirtatiously at various customers, San noted the tremors shaking your fingers, the wary eyes darting in each direction while the men you worked with grazed against you while passing by, and those slurring their words drunkenly calling out to you from their booths. He noticed the tension in your shoulders even as the years went by, and regulars became familiar, their orders sliding across the bar seconds after they’d found an empty seat, before a greeting could slip out their smiling lips, pleased to be served by you once again. You knew the respect this façade had brought upon you, and yet your eyes remained sharp, solid walls built up behind the sultry smiles you handed these desperate men on a gold platter. And in the restless fight to break them down, San found himself too deep into a pit he could no longer pick himself up from. A pit brimming with burning want, a yearning so fervid, it ate at him from the inside out the more he pushed it away, cheap whores and endless mistresses futile in their attempts to simmer it down.

But now, the woman he so desperately wanted to break down between rough palms was trapped between his firm chest and the bar, still holding him at gunpoint while her free arm wrapped around his shoulder. It felt like hours, the steady ticking of the vintage clock hung on the bullet-riddled wall fading the deeper San peered into your eyes, looking up at him through curled eyelashes as the longer hand continued its clicking. Playfulness glimmered in your irises the longer San dragged his silence, as though he had no intention of building on his prior statement.

“What’s this about the great Choi San wanting me?”

Your tone indicated a challenge, a ‘how will he avert the situation to his advantage this time?’ while you kept your eyes on him, fingers tangling into the short hair at his nape to watch his eyelids droop even further at the pleasant stimulation. And perhaps what he needed was a pistol threatening to blow through his brain, realizing — after a chase lasting too many years — that he was tired of the endless back and forth, tired of the eager hands brushing over your body while he sipped on some fizzy beverage you’d handed him, watching as you basked under others’ attention, his own bullheadedness and pride pushing him further away from you when all he wanted to do was break every audacious finger that dared touch your skin in his presence.

Leaning closer, until his hot breath mingled with yours in the negligible gap he’d left between your faces, his hand curved over your jaw, thumb caressing the skin of your cheek, “baby, I’d give you the whole world if you’d just ask.”

The sudden confession surprised you, eyebrows flying up and jaw slackening under his touch, but you swiftly picked yourself up, a pleased smile stretching your lips as you bumped noses with him, “Mm, I’ll hold you up to that, Mr. Choi.”

Unlike the gradually deepening kisses shared in romance novels, teeth clanged and tongues pushed against one another, San’s hand travelling down your side to grab at your thigh until your feet lifted off the wooden floorboards. He set you down on the bar, fingers digging into the washed-out denim gathered at your hips while his teeth nipped at your bottom lip. Placing the pistol somewhere to your side, your hands wandered down San’s sculpted body and over the expanse of honey skin peeking through his open coat, fingertips grazing his nipples to elicit a sudden groan from the man’s lips, parting against your own. You made a mental note of his response, the corner of your mouth lifting as you repeated the action, the hungry clash of lips dwindling into interval pecks as you toyed with San’s chest, flushed and heated under your touch.

“About time you started thinking with your cock,” wrapping your legs around his frame, you dragged his pelvis closer to feel him against your core, hard and heavy within the confines of his pants.

He rolled his hips, eyes dazed as he took you in through the negligible gap separating you, breathing the same air as the friction and lust glazed over his lidded eyes. “Who said this was my cock speaking?”

Fingers pausing over his chest, you took in the implication behind his words, his heartbeat frenzied and erratic against your palm as though it was communicating in its own language, desperate to be heard amongst the chaos that was your nonexistent relationship with Choi San — a game of cat and mouse, with the roles reversing each time you’d crossed paths. Playful banter and meaningless flirting remaining at surface level with no endpoint in sight, both players stuck in a turmoil of pridefulness and cowardice, none willing to relent.

If you’d known a cheap, rusted pistol would push San onto his knees before you, you would’ve blown a bullet through someone’s head three years ago. It wasn’t the game you wanted to win for the sake of your treasured ego, but the thrashing muscle beneath your palm, one many would assume didn’t beat, cold-heartedness and dispassionate eyes only a few could see through. And perhaps that’s what drew him to you, your willingness to look past the blood on his hands and the barbarism in which he carried out his business, your eyes sparkling in interest rather than fear as you sneaked an unknown drink into his hand, treating him like a customer you wanted to woo into becoming a regular, and not as Choi San.

The silence stretched, until San’s mutter broke through the stillness, “do you fear me?”

You blinked up at him, pondering over his question for barely a second before whispering back, “no.”

Huffing out a small laugh, he cradled your jaw in one of his palms while his thumb caressed the skin of your cheek, “that’s reckless.” Perhaps his response should have scared you, or at least sent an icy chill down your spine, but your heart only ached for the man before you as you took in his feeble, half-hearted attempt at pushing you away. Ironic, considering he’d unconsciously leaned into you while he spoke, chest brushing against yours with every breath he inhaled. “You know I can’t be trusted.”

“Not when you look at me the way you do.”

A dangerous glint sparked in the dark of his irises, burning as he silently went over your words in his mind, the few seconds’ wait stirring up butterflies in your gut as you resisted cowering under his fierce gaze. And before you could question his speechlessness, or attempt a teasing remark to lessen the rigid tension beginning to choke you, San’s face was lurching forwards to capture your lips in another kiss. Hungrier, greedier, as though he’d been starved of you — and he’d argue he was — and was finally offered a taste, teeth clashing with his nose pressed against the side of yours as he sucked out the last of the oxygen in your lungs.

Emotion flooded into San’s chest, and he allowed it to seep through into his actions, hands restless and wandering over your frame while his tongue busied itself with exploring your mouth after you’d given him access. Short, breathy moans left your lips when his fingers tucked into the denim waistband of your jeans, eliciting a desperate groan from his as he struggled to undo the button separating him from your heat. The dizzying haze San’s soft lips on yours cast upon your mind broke, his eyes closed as he chased your retreating touch when the sudden awareness of your surroundings jerked you away from him. Despite your sudden rigidness, he didn’t allow you to move too far, tucking his face into the crook of your neck to inhale the sweet scent of your perfume masking the sharpness of the three cigarettes you’d smoked earlier.

His mouth found your pulse, tongue peeking out to drag kitten licks over the delicate skin in between the gentle pecks pressed onto the column of your throat. His breath warmed the stripes of saliva he’d left behind, “what’s wrong?”

San’s mouth stretched against your skin when your button finally popped open between his fingers, his thumb and index dragging the zipper down until black lace peeked through the opening. You flinched slightly, eyes wandering to the side while a bashful flush rode up your chest.

“San we—” you cleared your throat, “what about…?”

The thumb toying with the dainty lace paused when you’d placed your hand over his, directing his gaze over his shoulder with a faint nod of your head, eyes fixed onto your denim-clad lap. The two guards stood awkwardly by the entrance — Jongho appeared to be unfazed, yet the red tinting the tips of his ears betrayed his nonchalant attitude, intermittent coughs to relieve the dryness of his throat not going unnoticed under San’s watchful gaze. Mingi, on the other hand, fidgeted uncomfortably in hopes of relieving the suffocating tightness in his ironed dress pants, shifting his weight from one leg onto the other in a futile attempt to be discrete, the heavy arousal pressing against his zipper too tricky to conceal.

Moving his attention back to you, San lifted your gaze back to his softened eyes with a finger under your chin, “don’t worry, my darling, they wouldn’t dare look at what’s mine,” the words rolled off his tongue laced with dizzying sweetness. Stealing a glance over his shoulder, you noted the averted gazes of the two men, as well as the obvious arousal bulging in the blonde’s pants. San’s finger guided your focus back onto him, “uh-uh, eyes on me.”

With a gentle grip around your wrist, he guided your hand down the toned muscle of his abdomen and over the luxury, leather belt, his hand cupping the back of yours to press it into the twitching lust tenting his pants. Your eyelashes fluttered at the rush of arousal drenching your panties, wrapping your fingers around the clothed girth to elicit a shaky exhale from the parted, plush lips mere centimeters away from yours, leaning forward to close the gap between them. No longer minding the two spectators, your low moan vibrated over San’s mouth, tongue running over his front teeth while you palmed over his hardness, his chest shuddering against yours at the friction. With an arm around your waist, San lifted your hips just enough to tug the bothersome denim off you, leaving you to kick it off while he revelled in the gentle friction you provided him.

He rolled his hips into your touch, one hand still covering yours at his crotch while the other hurriedly pulled your shirt up to your chest, followed by your bra to watch your tits spill out under the band. “Fuck, you’re such a good girl for me, aren’t you?”

You hummed, watching as he’d begun leaning down towards your exposed chest before your hand shot up from his pants to grab his jaw, watching as he confusedly looked up at you, cheeks smushed between your fingers and eyes glazed over with want.

“Mm, I bet you’d like that,” tilting your head to the side, a playful smile curving your lips as you watched him process the mocking tone he’d previously used on you — your refusal to comply bewildered him, but most of all, it sent shocks of burning arousal straight to his core.

The arm around your waist dragged you closer to the edge of the bar, his other hand raking through the hair at the side of your head, desperation leaking into his tone as he sucked in a sharp breath, “god, you’re fucking perfect.”

His pouted lips found yours in a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss, bodies colliding as his urgency and yearning revealed themselves in hungry nips and bites. You carded your fingers through the dark strands, wrapping your legs around his hips once he’d slotted himself between your thighs, heavy bulge pressed and rutting against your overwhelming heat.

Your own impatience clawed at your cracking composure, a man you’d watched from afar, unobtainable to all but those he’d handpicked himself, only to toss away the morning after. And for as long as you’d remembered, you’d hoped he’d never pick you, afraid of the lingering feelings he’d leave behind as his broad frame walked out the room, his scent permeating the sheets still covering your sweaty figure, fingers entangled into the cotton in a hasty attempt at preserving the memory of  a man you’d wanted for years, but who only wanted you for a night.

Drawing back to take him in, the dystopian scenario your mind had drew up faded into dust as said man chased your lips, feline eyes shut, eyebrows drawn in as he registered the unreturning loss of your touch. While Choi San’s warmth may very well still be torn away from you, the morning sun shining over the world while leaving you alone in the chilling shade, you wondered if the memory of the burning body heat radiating off his soft skin would accompany you during those frosty, weary days. Barely weighing your options, you pressed yourself to the man before you, dragging him impossibly closer with the legs around his waist.

If the dawn of a new day were to illuminate the shards of your shattered heart, at least the moon would have borne witness to your undoing within Choi San’s fervid embrace.

“How about you be good and fuck me already?”

Digging his teeth into his bottom lip, San allowed you to guide his hands past the lacey waistband until your sweet arousal coated his fingertips, running them through your folds to feel you throbbing against him. His response was delayed, breathy as he struggled to focus with his hand in your panties, “be patient.”

Unlike any other statement that had left his plush lips, San’s tone was lacking, the noted detail stretching the corners of your mouth. “I can feel you shaking, Sir.”

The accusation earned you a firm glare, his gaze shifting from the indents of his knuckles against the lace to the cockiness painting your features. Was it nerves, or the anticipation? You wondered if Choi San ever felt any of those emotion, let alone allowed them to translate into his body language. And yet the unsubtle trembling continued, even as the deep baritone sounded in the negligible space separating you.

“Call me by my name.”

It seemed as though your choice of nickname was more alerting to him than the implication associated with his jitters. You wondered if this was his way of showing vulnerability, and the thought of another noticing his quivering irked you, “don’t wanna.”

To your surprise, San’s eyes softened, taking your jaw into his free hand and running his thumb beneath your bottom lip, “please, baby.” He circled his middle finger around your fluttering hole before breaching it, sinking all the way inside while his eyes studied your features. Letting out a breath at the stretch, your lips parted further when San’s thumb ran along the cracking skin, tongue peeking out to run over his nailbed. The sternness in his voice vanished and subtle whines mixed into his tone, “please, ‘wanna hear you saying my name.”

He slid another finger alongside the first, curving and running them over your walls until he grazed the spongy surface he’d been seeking, noting the flutter of your eyelashes, thighs tensing around his waist before spreading to allow him further access.

“C’mon,” he urged, fingertips digging into your g-spot as he shallowly thrusted them into your cunt, studying your face for encouragement as your eyebrows drew in and soft exhales quickened in pace. His thumb pressed into your bottom lip, and he leaned forward to leave an upwards trail of wet kisses over the slope of your jaw, mumbling against the flushed skin, “say my name, baby, let me hear it.”

You were putty in San’s arms, pleasure building in your gut as he fucked his fingers into your pussy, his hand trapped behind the lace and grinding his palm into your clit, the single syllable rolling off your tongue before you could help it, an airy repetition of his name, “San, San, San—” so sweet, melodic, bucking his hips into nothing at the sound, tucking his head into the crook of your neck and groaning into your skin, deep and gravelly, before sinking his teeth into the flesh.

A high-pitched whimper followed the echoes of his name, your walls clamping up around him as a sudden orgasm rushed through you, thighs shaking and back arching, head thrown backwards as he guided you back down with slow glides against your walls and tender kisses over the bitemark he’d left as a keepsake. Just as the tension in your muscles dwindled, San’s hand retreated out of your panties, hurriedly tugging the fabric down your legs and ignoring the audible tearing at the frantic action. He interrupted the complaint at the tip of your tongue with a look, berserk and brimming with searing lust,

“I need to fuck you right now,” his breathing was heavy, rapid, fingers digging into the flesh of your hip while his free hand rid him of his belt, tossing the leather to the side before undoing his pants and leaving them to fall to his ankles. “Can I, baby? I’ll make you feel so good.”

“Yeah,” you breathed out in a whine, wrapping your fingers around his biceps after he’d shrugged off his coat, revealing the wide expanse of soft, tan skin and bulging muscle, “want that, want you.”

San’s boxers gathered around his mid-thighs before his impatience became too much to handle, wrapping his arms around you to drag your hips closer before the burning heat of your core met his leaking cock. You breathed the same air, panting into the gap separating you as San ran his length through the slick coating your folds, once, twice, before his eagerness could no longer be held down. A visible shudder shook his toned figure as he breached your clenching hole, his cock stretching you open while you held onto his shoulders for stability, head angled downwards to watch your cunt swallow his cock whole.

“Fuck—darling, you gotta relax for me,” he bumped his forehead with yours, pressing tender kisses to your lips while you adjusted to his girth, unclenching your muscles and allowing the fullness to take over your senses. “Good girl,” he squeezed the back of your neck soothingly, planting a few pecks onto your cheekbone and temple.

He moved in shallow thrusts, craving the friction but refusing to part from the magnetic warmth of your cunt, slick squelching every time he pushed in and soft grunts leaving his lips as he cast his gaze onto your contorting face. He could tell you were still trying to hold your ground, but the pleasure soaring through your body at the languid grazes of his cockhead over your clenching walls dismantled the front you’d built up. And Choi San proved relentless in his pursuit, wanting nothing but to have you falling apart in his arms.

He snapped his hips without warning, a choked moan echoing in the back of your throat, “You’re mine, aren’t you?” he was so close, so deep, building up to a rhythm that rendered you momentarily speechless. “My own pretty girl to ruin.”

You made no effort in concealing your voice, intermittent ah’s making San’s insides flutter as he pounded into you, arms holding you firmly against his body as he seeked the tight squeeze of your cunt.

“You fucking wish,” lidded eyes not moving off him, you rolled your hips in sync with his, meeting his thrusts with just as much urgency, the heavy presence of his cock continuously fucking into you satisfying a years-long hunger you’d endured in silence.

“You can pretend all you want, but I can see the fucking mess you’re making of yourself,” the hand on your nape moved to the back of your head, pushing it down to vaunt his slick-coated cock peeking out of your pussy before stuffing it back inside, toned pelvis and snail trail glistening with your arousal as he grinded against your clit every time he sheathed himself within you. Leaning forward once again, San’s lips pressed against your cheekbone, moving over the skin as he rephrased his previous question into a sure statement, “you’re mine.”

And this time, you didn’t protest, didn’t tease, but simply nodded your head and breathed out a defeated, “yeah, ‘m all yours.”

San’s cock twitched, his hand dropping to your thigh to dig his fingers into the flesh, the other still wrapped possessively around you while he pistoned his hips into your sopping cunt, sweat beading over his temples while your foreheads remained flush, hot air circulating between your mouths as you pressed them against each other in breathless kisses, swallowing each other’s moans as ecstasy soared through your bodies.

“San—nngh fuck—" the more your back arched you away from him, the closer San drew you in, as though he couldn’t function without every patch of your skin glued to his own; until your nipples pressed together and his scent was all-consuming.

San prided himself in his stamina, but with your walls wrapped around him, his cock pulsed violently and all he could think about was fucking you full. “Gonna give you all I have,” he grunted, rhythm faltering and growing sloppy as the build of his orgasm blinded him, “you’ll take it all, won’t you?”

It seemed as though all you could do was nod, the sound of your synced breaths and skin-on-skin reverberating in the air surrounding your intertwined frame. All you could think about was San, so full of San, his scent, his warmth, his secure hold. San, San, San. The man noticed the sudden trance consuming you, moving his head back to hold your face in his palm, waiting until your eyes focused back on him to speak again,

“There you are,” it was barely a whisper, but you released a deep breath you’d unintentionally been holding, muscles relaxing despite the hurried pace of his hips pounding into you, “’m gonna fill you up, yeah?” Though you were on the brink of delirium, wanting nothing more but San’s thick cum deep within you, you remained quiet, watching as desperation seeped into his expression. “Please, baby—fuck—please let me, let me make a mess of you.”

You ran your fingers through his damp locks, scratching at his scalp to watch the feline eyes droop further. “Begging looks good on you,” you giggled, noting his slowed pace as he staved off his orgasm, a creamy ring of white forming around his cock.

An exasperated whine escaped his throat, his hips betraying him as they chased a pleasure he’d been delaying, “you’ll look so pretty full of my cum, you’ll take it so well.”

The furrow of his eyebrows, pretty pink tinting his skin and fingers trembling where he replaced them at your nape, you couldn’t find it in you to refuse him anymore, the familiar tingle of your impending orgasm breaching your brittle mask of nonchalance.

“Give it to me, Sannie, I’ll take it all.”

That was all San needed, the nickname blurring his vision as he stuffed his length into your cunt, pelvis pressed against your clit as he painted your walls with sticky ribbons of pearly white, his cock throbbing while he fed his load into your womb. You watched his eyes flutter shut and mouth form a perfect ‘o’ as he used your warm hole to milk himself of every last drop, graced with the opportunity to watch him unravel for only a few moments before he dragged you into his body, tucking your head into his neck while he grinded his twitching cock into your cum-soaked pussy. It was so much, so warm as he flooded your insides with his seed, a thin stream dribbling out of your stretched entrance while he shot a few more pathetic spurts.

You tangled your fingers into the short locks at his nape, reveling in the untamed, successive moans San let out into your ear, the mix of his deep baritone and high-pitched whimpers leading your pussy to clench around him. And despite the building overstimulation, he started up a steady rhythm once again, pulling out before slamming back inside. You felt the thick cum flooding out of you, only to be fucked back into your needy cunt. An orgasm you’d thought had dwindled away built right back up as San’s cockhead pounded relentlessly into your g-spot, thighs clamping around his hips as they guided you towards the edge.

You clung to his shoulders, hesitantly pushing your head back when he’d gripped the hair at your nape, shaky breath blowing against your skin as he watched you melt in his arms, eyes squeezed shut, “gonna come for me?”

“mhmm,” your cunt pulsed sporadically as he pumped it full of his sensitive cock, and he leaned down to pepper kisses over your eyelids.

“Don’t close your eyes, baby. Look at me,” he muttered over the delicate skin, his smile dripping with sweetness once you’d done as he asked, faltering slightly when your walls finally clamped up around him, “that’s it—fuck—that’s a good girl.”

Vivid flashes of colour painted your vision, muscles spasming in San’s hold as you finally tumbled over the edge. He coaxed you through it with languid glides over your trembling walls, honeyed voice mumbling praise into your ear while ecstasy rocketed through your body, going completely silent through the first wave before a broken moan ripped through your chest. Your cunt squelched with the added slick, a mixture of your release and San’s simultaneously being fucked into and out of the used hole, and San wanted nothing but to spread you open and swallow your combined taste until you squirmed and thrashed under him, pulling at his hair and squeezing his head between your thighs. But exhaustion was apparent in your eyes, body going limp in his arms as you finally came down, spasming and whimpering while weakly pushing at his bicep.

San didn’t pull out, but simply slid his whole length back inside you and stilled, waiting until your features relaxed before leaning in for a kiss — slow, deep, breaking apart to plant a succession of feathery pecks over your pouted lips.

As he tucked you closer once again, nuzzling your nose into his pulse point, you wondered if this was how Choi San treated all his women, lulling them into a false sense of security before ripping their heart out of their chest, leaving them with the bitter memory of what could have been and the retreating shadow of his broad frame. But one peek over his shoulder, you took in the wordless conversation shared between the two guards, bewilderment and questioning glinting in their widened eyes, frantic hands flailing at their sides in an attempt to dissect the situation. The peculiar scene eased your concerns, and the steady heartbeat of the man you’d longed to hold you for so long laced the air around you with a comforting aroma.

Twisting his head, San studied your dazed expression for a few moments before you’d met his eyes, earning you an easy smile and dimpled cheeks that sent your heartrate on a frenzy, and with your chests flush, San’s lips only smiled further at the realization. The man had warned you about the recklessness of trusting him, and while you knew it to be as such, you were content to live in this warm aura of comfort he’d provided you so long as you could bare witness to this side of vulnerability unknown to many. And even if this moment were to be fleeting, leaving you to grieve the short-live tenderness instead of revel within it, San’s overwhelming warmth and the fervency of his embrace would eternally linger, casting a comforting glow on any desolate, bitter days to come.

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[calmcoldevening]

Pov: You knew slashers, when you was a child (Slashers x fem!reader)

I'm back! Well, it os a lazy post from my drafts, until I end my new idea <3

TW: no

Characters: Thomas Hewitt, Brahms Heelshire, brothers Sinclair

P.S.: English is not my native language, so lot of these words was translated by simple translator, sorry for misspells and e.t.c.

Enjoy this!

Thomas Hewitt

The transition to a new school has always been a great stress for a child, especially in the middle of the school year.

You and your parents often moved from city to city. Maybe it was their work, or maybe they just wanted to show you as many different places as possible so that your childhood would remain really memorable — you didn't know. But the constant moving was followed by a change of schools and kindergartens. On the one hand, you liked it — new acquaintances, interests and a lot of positive emotions, after all, you were a cheerful and active child — but it also brought its inconveniences — you didn't have "best" friends, you had no more than a couple of months to communicate with each of them, and multiple the change of the team has made you a real chameleon in society.

You were ten years old when you and your parents moved to Texas. The age when most classes have already been divided into peculiar interest groups, which are quite difficult for a new person to join. That's why your mom decided to bake cookies that you could distribute to new classmates. Who doesn't like homemade cakes? You actively participated in the cooking process. A little more practice, and you could learn these cookies on your own. As soon as the treat was ready — several pieces were successfully taken away by your father — your mother beautifully put it in a colored box, now tied with a ribbon. The inscription "Welcome" was painted on the lid in gold paint.

It was very hot in this area of Texas. Therefore, on your first day of school, you decided to limit yourself to a beautiful white T-shirt with some simple pattern and black shorts. The first impression is the most important, right? Your mom took you to school by car. At the reception desk, your mom introduced you and found out the number of the right office. After kissing you goodbye on the cheek, she left you to your own luck. Although you were already used to it, a nervous feeling of anticipation bubbled somewhere in your chest; your palms were sweating.

After a good seven minutes, you were standing in front of the right class, 212, clutching a box of cookies to your chest. Adjusting the strap of the gray backpack, you exhaled anyway.

Your homeroom teacher, Mrs. Sullivan, introduced you in the office. A lovely woman with curly locks hanging down on both sides of her face and freckled cheeks. Her soft figure, dressed in a white blouse and a black pencil skirt, caused a surge of strength and confidence in you. The woman lightly put her arm around your shoulders, so motherly, and asked you to tell about yourself.

"My name is Y/N Y/L," your voice trembled slightly while your gaze ran over the children sitting in the classroom, "I'm ten. I like animals and beading... Mm, my parents and I move around a lot, so I don't think I'll stay here for more than two months. I hope we'll become friends."

You ended your performance with a sincere warm smile. Mrs. Sullivan asked you to take an empty seat. Your choice fell on the farthest place by the window; a guy was sitting behind it, hunched over and staring at the street. Was he weird? No, rather unusual. He had long black hair, so unusual for a boy; his gaze was lowered somewhere on the dusty road near the school, so you couldn't see his eyes. Sitting down next to him, you quickly took out a notebook and pencil from your backpack.

"Hello?"

The boy seemed startled by your voice. He looked at you uncertainly, and you saw a face wrapped in bandages. Sad cornflower blue eyes peeked out from under the white cloth.

"I'm Y/N," you whisper, holding out your hand to the boy, "And what's your name?"

There was no response. Disappointed, you lowered your hand, now paying attention to the teacher's explanation. The woman was writing down her words on the blackboard, and you quickly began copying them into your notebook, clutching a pencil until it crackled.

There was something about this boy that attracted you. It doesn't matter if it was his shyness or isolation — you decided that you definitely want to make friends with him.

At recess, you approached a group of girls. They were dressed up like girls from fashion magazines that you often saw in kiosks by the road.

"Hi," — you said with a light smile.

"Well, hello," said one of the girls, popping a bubble of gum.

"I want to ask. M, that boy," you pointed to the long—haired boy, "What's his name? I asked, and he ignored me."

"Haha, he won't answer you. That's our little Tommy," another girl hissed sarcastically, giggling, "Thomas Hewitt is weird. Very strange. I heard that his father is his brother!"

"And he's also a terrible freak!"

You awkwardly put your hand in your hair. Thomas didn't look as disgusting as the girls described him. It's all rumors. And what to take from these children, they probably didn't even try to talk to Hewitt!

You didn't talk to this company anymore. After waiting for lunch, when all the children went out to the garden at the school, you again approached the boy. He didn't budge. It seems he hasn't even written anything since you sat down next to him.

"Hey, hello?" you waved your palm in front of the guy's face, "Thomas, right?"

This time the boy paid attention to you. There was no emotion visible under the thick layer of bandages, but you were sure that he arched an eyebrow questioningly. He's wondering how you know his name?

"You were sitting alone, so I came over. Your name is Thomas, right?" you repeated the question, finally the boy nodded, "That's wonderful! I'm Y/N, let's get acquainted."

Smiling happily, you hand the guy an open box of cookies. Golden crust with chocolate chips. You had no desire to share such a delicious thing with such terrible and tactless people. And Tommy. Tommy was different. He was timid and calm, unable to cause harm.

"Help yourself," you babble, sitting down next to Hewitt, "I made them myself! Not without my mommy's help, of course..."

You blush slightly and see Thomas's eyes narrow. He smiled! He seems to be starting to like your company.

"Can I call you Tommy?"

• Thomas has become noticeably happier since you met him. The boy began to spend more time outside the house, in your company (Luda was very surprised by this, because usually after school Tommy always came home and sat in his room).

• For your birthday, Thomas himself sewed a soft toy for you, a fox, as he found out later, this is one of your favorite animals. The toy was sewn from different, but matching pieces of fabric, a little sloppy, but quite skillfully. It made you smile. You threw your arms around Hewitt for joy.

• Once you praise him, Tommy immediately blushes a lot. It's good that it's not visible under the layer of bandages. From the moment you became friends, Thomas's self-esteem has risen a little.

• When you first offered to help Thomas change the bandages, he strongly refused. The boy just couldn't let you see his face. But when he finally gave up, Hewitt was pleasantly surprised that you didn't scream and run away. You didn't call Tommy a freak or a monster, but only sympathetically stroked his scarred cheeks.

• Over time, you began to understand Thomas without words, absolutely. You found the right answers in his movements, grunting, awkward head turning or excessive gesticulation. Even Luda was a little amazed at your nonverbal communication, but the woman was glad that her son finally found a real friend.

• Tommy often showed you his drawings. It was like the scribble of a five-year-old child, but you were always happy to accept the leaves and hang them over your bed. Basically, Thomas drew his family: angry Charlie in the corner of the paper, Monty sitting next to him in a chair, a little further away, Luda was cooking, and in the center of the drawing you and Thomas holding hands and smiling.

• It was the first time you begged your parents to stay in this city longer. Fortunately, they agreed after seeing your enthusiasm for the "strange boy".

Brahms Heelshire

• Your parents and the Healers kept in touch for a while, you can say your families were very close. You first met Brahms on his fifth birthday. He was a very well-mannered but private boy, so Mrs. Heelshire was only too happy to introduce you.

• At first, your communication did not work out. Brahms was a rude child in places, took away your toys and teased you.

• His true attitude towards you showed up when you didn't come to his house, although you were visiting the Heelshire family every Monday and Wednesday. He was seriously worried. All morning Brahms sat in his room by the window and looked at the road going through the forest, waiting for your little body in your favorite blue dress to appear from behind the trees. But you were never there. It turned out that you were just sick. That day Brahms went to your house and did not leave your bed, squeezing your hot palm.

• Your parents worked most of the time, so they were not against your games with Heelshire Jr. You stayed in their house more and more often, sometimes even overnight, and you and Brahms made noise all night, forcing his mother to swear. But still, the woman was glad that at least Brahms was behaving quite comfortably and boldly with someone.

• You were only a couple of months younger than Brahms, but you thought it was a good reason to tease you.

• The boy allowed you to enter his room without knocking, consider it a worthwhile privilege, because Heelshire does not let everyone into his personal space.

• When you were sad, Brahms brought you bouquets of flowers hastily made with his own hands. That's why his palms were green most of the time.

• Brahms makes wonderful sandwiches. He often makes them when the two of you are having a "picnic" in the garden. Although in fact he agrees to it only to admire you.

• Heelshire loves sweets very much. Very. His mom doesn't allow the boy a lot of sweets and cakes, so you secretly bring them to him from home. The boy is insanely happy.

• Brahms loves kissing. This habit, or rather the need, appeared in him because you praised the boy in this way. Has he finally cleaned the room? A kiss. Did he break his mom's precious vase during the catch-up today? A kiss! So now he can demand them for any reason. He especially likes it when you kiss him before going to bed, and Brahms falls asleep hugging you.

• You're his best friend. That's why Brahms trusts you with all his secrets. You are the only one to whom he has told about the strange and frightening thoughts that sometimes sound in his head.

"Good night," Mrs. Heelshire said, turning off the light and closing the door behind her.

You smile and blow her a kiss, covering your mouth with your palm. When the woman's footsteps recede, you exhale with relief, plopping down on the pillow with force. Squinting your eyes, you wrinkle your nose, trying to blow away the stuck strands of hair from your face. Brahms giggles and gently tucks your hair behind your ear.

The room is cool. The window is slightly ajar, letting in a light autumn wind. The curtains are swaying from side to side, taking chaotic frightening shadows.

You get under the covers up to your nose. Brahms follows your example, pressing his whole body against you, and you stroke his head.

"If I ever do something very, very bad, will you stay with me?" Heelshire whispers, looking up at you.

You look into his sad emerald eyes and laugh. He likes to put pressure on your pity, because he knows that at such moments you see him as a tiny abandoned kitten.

"I don't think you'd do anything so bad, Brahms."

"But if I do. What if everyone turns away from me. Even mom and dad. Will you stay with me?"

You pressed your lips together, frowning. Brahms had never asked such strange questions before. And how can a child who is only eight years old think about something like that after a while. Looking down at the ceiling, you turned your head, looking into Brahms' eyes.

"Yes. I'll stay."

"Honestly?" Heelshire asks incredulously.

"Honestly."

"Promise?"

"Yes, I promise you, silly boy!" you abruptly cover his face with a blanket, holding the edges on both sides of his head.

The boy was kicking, trying to get out from under your weight, while you tried not to laugh. Taking pity on his futile attempts, you took off the blankets, admiring Brahms' flushed face. Heelshire was breathing heavily, and his cheeks and nose were burning like Chinese lanterns that your parents launched on your birthday.

"I won. Again," you grin.

Brahms is silent. You sigh and lie down again, turning your back to Heelshire. Your eyes are shining with joy, and your lips continue to curve in a smug grin. You know that Brahms will not dare to do something to you in return. He always let you get away with such antics. Absolutely always.

When you are ready to fall asleep, through the chatter in your head you hear a plaintive whisper. Having opened your leaden eyelids, you groan with displeasure.

"Kiss me," Brahms whines, and you get up on your elbows, chuckling softly.

"Okay," you kiss Heelshire on the lips, "Good night, Brahms."

• "Now I've won," Brahms croaks, pressing you against the wall and spreading his hands on both sides of your head. Just like a child. Except now he's not the victim here, but you. Although was he ever a victim in your games? Rather, he always played the role of a presenter, you just didn't notice it, as if you were looking through your fingers. And who would have thought that that innocent little boy would ever stand in front of you, towering over your body by a good two heads, and grinning with eyes shining in anticipation through the black slits of the mask.

Sinclairs

Christmas is the most mysterious and magical holiday of the year; the day when the whole family gathers at one big table to properly celebrate this moment together; the day when you receive a lot of gifts from all kinds of relatives, which you sometimes did not realize; the day when all wishes come true.

You clumsily shuffled along the road, shaking your back every now and then to adjust the heavy backpack. Things inside rattled a lot, and you tried to straighten your back faster to avoid crumpled packages.

Christmas was your favorite holiday. And although your parents have been working constantly lately, you were glad that you could spend this family holiday with your friends.

You met not so long ago, only about four months ago, when you first moved here. Ambrose turned out to be a very nice and cozy city with friendly and caring people. Mrs. Sinclair, Trudy, and your mom became friends right away— their interests converged on art. That's when I met her sons, the woman suggested that you make friends with them because of their similar age. And it turned out to be a very good idea. The boys quickly became addicted to you.

Once again adjusting the canvas straps of the backpack, you quickly climb the steps requested by the snow and knock on the sand-colored door several times. On the other side, there is a fussy shuffling and dissatisfied grumbling.

"Hello," you say, smiling, when the door swings open in front of you, revealing a view of the timid Vincent.

The guy nods to you and opens the door wider, motioning you to enter. You kiss Sinclair on the cheek of the mask. Brushing off your feet at the threshold, you quickly take off your shoes and leave your backpack at the shoe shelf. Music from an old radio is coming from the kitchen, some station unknown to you is playing old songs from the seventies. As soon as you entered the room, Vincent stood at the stove again, frying something in a frying pan. Whenever Trudy was busy making figures and arranging a museum that she someday wanted to open, it was Vincent who did the cooking and other household duties. Bo was stubborn and didn't want to do "women's" work, and Lester was still too young for such a large-scale activity. The latter was now sitting at the table and skillfully sliced an apple with a hunting knife into neat pieces.

"Morning, Lester," passing by the boy, you leave a small kiss on his forehead.

"Hi, Y/N!" Sinclair winces contentedly, flapping his big copper eyes.

You sit down next to the boy and imperceptibly take a piece of apple from under his nose, throwing it into his mouth contentedly. There were already several plates and cutlery on the table. Vincent loved order, so he prepared everything in advance.

"Where's Bo?" you ask, rocking slightly in your chair, for which you get a menacing look from Vincent.

"Mom asked him to help at the museum," Lester replied, "He should be back soon."

You notice how Vincent turns off the stove and turns his whole body in your direction. The guy takes a notebook lying on the table and quickly scribbles something.

"Have you had breakfast?"

"Yes," you say shortly, when Vincent closes the notebook and puts it back, "Honestly."

Sinclair puts the hot omelette on plates and pushes you a bowl of oatmeal cookies. You happily take one piece. Vincent sits down across from Lester and lifts the mask just enough to see his mouth. You frown, noticing the edge of his deep scar.

"Hey everyone," it was heard from the threshold, when the front door slammed shut with force, "Oh, honey, and you're here," Bo walks past you, lightly touching your shoulder in greeting, and sits down next to Vincent.

During brunch, you watch Lester and Bo actively negotiate. When their plates are empty, you decide to step in.

"Since everyone is here," you babble happily, clapping your hands to attract the attention of the guys, "I want to give you gifts a little earlier than planned, do you mind?"

"Of course not," Bo abruptly pushed away from the table, "I'm all for it, babe."

Bo winked at you playfully, to which you rolled your eyes. Vincent signed something, and you looked at Lester. Your sign language was not yet good enough to understand most of the phrases, you barely remembered the words of politeness. That's why you've always relied on little Lester at times like this.

"He said: "Why are you doing this so early?"", Lester explained, innocently blinking his eyes.

"What's the difference," Bo frowned, "Sooner or later — the main thing is that she gave."

You didn't comment on the elder Sinclair's words, but just got up from the table and went to your backpack resting in the hallway. When you came back, the brothers were already sitting in a kind of semicircle on the floor. Bo sprawled impressively closer to the sofa and grinned in anticipation; Lester, in his usual manner, sat cross-legged; while Vincent tucked his knees to his chest.

You sat down between the twins and put the backpack next to you, unzipping it. You said "Close your eyes" and, as soon as the boys fulfilled your request, you began to take out colorful boxes. All packages had the same color, different sizes. Alternately, you put the gifts in front of them and allowed them to watch. Lester giggled when he saw that his box was the biggest.

"Merry Christmas," you drawled, spreading your arms out to the sides.

The very first gift was opened by Lester. The boy happily tore open the package, scattering the paper around him, and screamed when he saw the cherished surprise. A big stuffed fawn. He had a soft beige body and neat brown horns sticking out in different directions. The muzzle was cheerful, with a big nose and shiny button eyes.

"I knitted it especially for you," you babble, smiling, when Lester looks up at you with an enthusiastic look.

"Thank you!" the boy throws himself on your neck with lightning speed, squeezing your body until the bones crunch; you stroke his back.

Bo was a little surprised when he saw a set of tools under the wrapper. He loved tinkering and was well versed in mechanics; the fact that you remembered about this hobby touched the guy a little; his lips curved in a slight smile.

"Well, thanks, babe," Bo grins, patting your hair.

You're pouting a little. All the time spent in the morning combing this tangled nest has gone to waste. You are dissatisfied with blowing off a few strands that caught your eye.

The last person to open his gift was Vincent. The boy very tenderly unwrapped the package, not trying to tear it, as if stretching and savoring this moment. You watched the deft but careful movements of his fingers with burning impatience. Finally, Sinclair took off all the paper, removing it from the side, and looked down at what he saw. A large set with colored pencils. Exactly the one that the boy looked at with undisguised envy in the window of an art store about a month ago. Did you remember that? With slightly trembling hands, Vincent takes the box and turns it in his hands. There were several more drawing pads under it.

Vincent looks at you, and you see the trembling gaze of his azure eyes in the slits of the mask. Such unbelievers, but at the same time grateful. You crawl up to the boy and hug him tightly, nuzzling his neck. Vincent lets out a ragged sigh.

"Merry Christmas to you, boys," you congratulate them once again, seeing the boys' satisfied smiles.

"So why did you decide to give it to us so early?" Lester asked, clutching the toy to his chest.

"Oh, that," you awkwardly fix your hair, "Well, my parents decided to leave. To another state. We'll leave tonight. So I thought I could have some fun with you now."

There was an oppressive silence in the room. You were afraid to look up, but you could feel the disappointment on the boys' faces. Your heart was painfully squeezed in your chest, from which you gritted your teeth with a creak.

"Will you come back?" Bo broke the silence.

"I don't know. Dad was offered a job in another state. Mom just said I wouldn't be able to see you."

You looked at each of the boys in turn. Vincent's head drooped, Bo's brows furrowed, and Lester's lips tightened into a crooked thread. The elder Sinclair sighed heavily.

"We'll be waiting. All together," he looked at you from under his brows, "Just try not to come back to us."

• Vincent loves sweets; but, often, Bo takes most of the goodies. That's why you put an envelope with several edible bracelets in one of the donated notebooks. Bo will probably consider them girly and will not take them away from his brother.

• You have been knitting a fawn for Lester for about five days; the boy is very happy with your gift. Your relationship is like a brother and a scary sister. He is always ready to rely on you; Sinclair is glad that he has such a caring person, unlike the same brothers (in particular Bo).

• Trudy adores you. You could say that in these few months she began to perceive you as her own daughter. You even know where the spare keys to the back door of the house are.

• Bo always tries to impress you as a self-sufficient high school student. He saw his father's old magazines with tackles, seduction and other materials not for children, so he decided to train on you. He didn't notice how he fell in love.

• Vincent is a good cook.

• Most of Vinnie's drawings in the new notebooks are you. He will paint your portraits for many years after your leaving.

[hollowed-theory-hall]

Hello!! So, I saw an argument about Harry's uhm looks? I guess. A lot of people basically headcanon him as someone buff. I digress, I'm part of the uhm more realistic? group. Harry's been starved and abused his entire life. I doubt he'll gain the weight and the height everyone else wants him to have. Years later. maybe. But in 6th year? While on the run? 3 years after the war? Doubt. do you think he would be able to get super tall and buff? Also, do you think its possible he used the same methods the dursleys used to punish himself?

I mean, anyone can headcanon whatever they want, but, I'll try to explain via quotes, what Harry's height and muscle situation is likely to be. I believe the reasons some headcanon him as buff and tall are:

Harry had pinned Mundungus against the wall of the pub by the throat. Holding him fast with one hand, he pulled out his wand.

(HBP)

He lifts Mundungus by his throat with one hand easily, and he practices Quidditch like 3 times a week at least. This implies that Harry has some muscle on him.

And he's mentioned to be James' height when he's 17:

James was exactly the same height as Harry.

(DH)

Which was supposedly tall, according to both, Harry:

tall and untidy-haired like Harry, the smoky, shadowy form of James Potter

(GoF)

And Voldemort:

the tall black-haired man in his glasses

(DH)

Now, let's put Harry's height in the context of other character heights. Particularly of interest are characters taller than him, to get an image of how tall is "tall." And some shorter characters to help figure out his exact height.

Sirius, Ron, Voldemort, and Dumbledore are all taller than Harry and exceptionally tall in general. They are each likely to be over 6 feet tall, making Harry likely less than 6' (183 cm). Supporting this is this quote:

Once the painful transformation was complete he was more than six feet tall, and from what he could tell from his well-muscled arms, powerfully built.

(DH)

This means Harry is less than 6' and isn't super buff. But, I want to get to his specific height, because I have a lot to say about character heights.

Like, Dumbledore is probably the tallest character who isn't a half-giant because he's towering over everyone except Hagrid and Maxime. In book 6, he's literally taller than all the inferi in the cave:

Dumbledore was on his feet again, pale as any of the surrounding Inferi, but taller than any too,

(HBP)

And Abeforth (who's as tall as Dumbledore) is taller than Ron, who's one of the other tallest characters in the books:

Ron looked slightly sick. Aberforth stood up, tall as Albus, and suddenly terrible in his anger and the intensity of his pain.

(DH)

Making the Dumbledores really tall. My estimate is around a whooping 6'5 (195 cm).

Sirius is mentioned to be taller than Snape, and the tallest Marauder:

said Sirius, standing up. He was rather taller than Snape

(OotP)

To Sirius’s right stood Pettigrew, more than a head shorter

(DH)

A head, in height, should be around one foot (30.48 cm). As the average height of a man in England in 1998 was around 5'8 (174.4 cm), this would make Sirius around 6'2 (188 cm), therefore taller than average, and Pettigrew around 5'2 (157 cm), shorter than the average, but still both at a reasonable height.

Ron is almost as tall as the twins at 11:

“Shut up,” said Ron again. He was almost as tall as the twins already and his nose was still pink where his mother had rubbed it.

(PS)

And, just, really tall in general:

He stepped forward. Not as tall as Ron, he had to crane his neck to read the yellowish label affixed to the shelf right beneath the dusty glass ball.

(OotP)

So I estimate Ron at around 6'3 (190 cm).

Voldemort who grew up on war rations is still described very consistently as tall, regardless of childhood malnourishment:

He was his handsome father in miniature, tall for eleven years old, dark-haired, and pale

(HBP)

tall, pale, dark-haired, and handsome — the teenage Voldemort.

(HBP)

Taller than Bellatrix (who's taller than Harry). Voldemort is also considerably taller than Pettigrew, as he has to bend to reach Pettigrew's arm when both are standing:

Voldemort bent down and pulled out Wormtail’s left arm; he forced the sleeve of Wormtail’s robes up past his elbow

(GoF)

I usually place Voldemort at around the same height as Ron, so 6'3 (190 cm).

Fred and George, though, are mentioned to be shorter and stockier, more similar to Molly's build:

Charlie was built like the twins, shorter and stockier than Percy and Ron, who were both long and lanky.

(GoF)

but are mentioned to shrink to become Harry in book 7:

Hermione and Mundungus were shooting upward; Ron, Fred, and George were shrinking

(DH)

I actually place the twins around 6' (183 cm) so they could be taller than Harry, but shorter than Ron. The twins are likely taller than Charlie.

Bellatrix, as a woman, should also be shorter on average, but considering how tall Sirius is mentioned to be, it appears the Blacks are just considerably taller than the average, even the women:

a tall dark woman with heavy-lidded eyes, who had stood at her trial and proclaimed her continuing allegiance to Lord Voldemort

(OotP)

She was taller than he was, her long black hair rippling down her back, her heavily lidded eyes disdainful as they rested upon him;

(DH)

So I place her at around 6' (183 cm) as well, as an exceptionally tall lady.

So where does this place Harry?

During the first 4 books, Harry is short and small for his age. When he's 13, he and Hermione are bit shorter than Pettigrew:

He was a very short man, hardly taller than Harry and Hermione.

(PoA)

(Ron, noticeably, is taller than Pettigrew at 13)

So, so Harry at 13 was around 5'1 (155 cm). And so was Hermione.

Then in between books 4 and 5 puberty kicks in and probably causes a slight growth spurt that makes him more attractive to girls around him:

Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown, the last two of whom gave Harry airy, overly friendly greetings that made him quite sure they had stopped talking about him a split second before. He had more important things to worry about, however:

(OotP)

And then he has another, larger growth spurt between books 5 and 6:

“You’re like Ron,” she [Molly] sighed, looking him up and down. “Both of you look as though you’ve had Stretching Jinxes put on you. I swear Ron’s grown four inches since I last bought him school robes.

(HBP)

“And it doesn’t hurt that you’ve grown about a foot over the summer either,” Hermione finished, ignoring Ron. “I’m tall,” said Ron inconsequentially. [Ron is objectively correct]

(HBP)

Post book 6 growth spurt, we know Harry is below 6' (183 cm) but close enough to 6' to be above the average of 5'8 (174.4 cm) and be considered "tall", and grow "about a foot" after said growth spurt.

I personally place his height at 5'11 (180 cm), to make all of the above make sense.

And while he is physically fit, he is likely very thin from years of malnourishment. So, he likely has some muscle on him, but he's very lean with little to no fat during his Hogwarts years (he'd likely gain more weight as an adult living peacefully with regular meals). So, Harry in the books isn't what I'd call buff, but he has some muscle and can definitely throw a punch. As he grows older post-canon, I think he could get buff if he set his mind to it.

(I actually have notes about the height of a bunch of other characters. Hermione is shorter than Harry and Ron, but noticeably taller than Ginny (5'2 or 157 cm) and probably around 5'4 (162 cm) by book 7. Draco is said to be slightly taller than Harry "Harry did not dare look directly at Draco, but saw him obliquely; a figure slightly taller than he was" - DH, placing Draco at around 6' (183 cm))

For your other question, no, I don't think Harry self-harms, definitely not in any way related to the Dursleys, but that's a different post because I went off about heights.

[ikinremu]

Sight for sore eyes

Tommy Shelby x Fem!Reader

! Smut Warning !

Tags: Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation, Praise, P in V, Unprotected Sex, Cream Pie

It was a rare occurrence for you to find time alone these days, though whenever you found yourself lucky enough - it was typically occupied by the same pastime. Truthfully, you didn't care in the slightest about the others whereabouts, all you were really bothered about was their major lack of being here: the betting shop.

There was no guarantee that the front door wouldn't swing open at quite literally any second - but to be candid, that was a fraction of the thrill. Besides, you were located at the very back of the, otherwise vacated, building. So there you were, the familiar warmth of one soft hand writhing beneath the cotton of your underwear, rubbing supple circles over the swell of your clit.

Slowly, you slipped a single digit inside your slick entrance, teeth helplessly puncturing your lips. You gently eased the tip toward your g-spot, reaching it with a breathy moan. Craving further friction, you trailed the unoccupied hand up your clothed torso, sparsely cupping your left breast through your still fully buttoned shirt.

You trapped your nipple with the hunger of your touch, beginning to roll the stiff peak between your fingers, simultaneously toying with your pulsing clit as your back hollowed out a drastic arch between itself and the wooden chair you were perched upon. You cursed through shallow breaths, sliding another finger inside - instinctively grinding the sopping heat of your cunt against your own hand.

Fingers pumping faster, your eyelids fluttered shut, pace picking up with each whimper from your lips. Waves of uttered profanities spilled from your tongue as you brought yourself closer and closer.

Your body trembled slightly, preparing to revel in the much-anticipated release. As your mouth  hung - almost shamelessly - open, a familiar click rang in your ears. Your heavy lids suddenly snapped open, fingers halting as immediately as you could manage.

The door was shut to its hinges, however Tommy was now leant against it, eyes trained directly to you - his pinkish lips curved into a seemingly amused smirk.

Your heart relentlessly pounded at the wall of your chest, guilty hands firmly tossed to your sides as your cheeks burnt in conflict.

"..Uh," You splutter out, "How much did you see?"

He took a painfully elongated drag of his cigarette, clearly purposeful, gaze dancing over you as he stubbed it out on the nearby, dusty ashtray.

"Enough to want more."

You felt your eyes widen so momentarily, completely unsure if you'd heard the man correctly.

Several seconds passed by, though it processed far longer to your confused state.

Tommy took a step forward. Then another.

"Don't let me stop you." He resumes, voice low, "Just keep doing what you were doing."

This time you offered a response, although it didn't hold much substance at all. 

"What?"

The pure heat of the chuckle that followed trickled down your spine.

"Touch yourself, I want to watch."

The air felt impossibly thick as Tommy parted his lips, stretching another step closer, his large, callous hands tucked tightly into his pockets, striking face looming so torturously near to your own.

"I want you to keep playing with that pretty cunt for me. Can you do that?"

Your breath cracked a small hitch. You ran the idea over in your rather heavily fogged mind,  completely unsuspecting the potency of his effect on you. The vision of him being present, watching as you stroked yourself just how you liked, coming undone in front of him.. You desired it just as much as he appeared to.

"Yes."

Tommy smirked, and for a split second, you could've sworn his bright eyes lit up the way they so rarely did.

"Take those off." His gaze clearly indicated in the direction to the dampened cotton of your underwear, ambling backwards, resuming his propped stance against the door, "Let me see all of you."

The balmy skin beneath your shirt heaved, heartbeat rapid. Every element of your focus lead back to Tommy - the lustful words that left his lips, his unfaltering facade. Pushing your dark, linen trousers from your hips, you dragged your underwear along with them, kicking both garments off at your feet.

"That's a good girl." Tommy praised, seemingly overcome with your willingness. His eyes dropped straight to your newly bared pussy; his jaw ticked and he eagerly wet his lips with his tongue. He sucked in a deep, shaky breath, reluctant to remove his gaze for even a millisecond as you spread your thighs apart ever so slightly.

He was beyond aware of your taunting intentions - and the fact they were successful.

"That cunt is just begging for attention, isn't it?" He murmured. It was evident to you that composure was beginning to evade him.

Peering up at him through glassy eyes, you softly, slowly snaked your palm downwards until you reached your naked pussy, hovering over the familiar warmth.

Tommy watched with an impenetrable interest, as though Atlantis didn't hold a candle to the sight before him. Timid, sultry moans slipped from your mouth as you worked desperately at your clit, fascinated gaze travelling over each and every inch of the man before you, pausing at the growing strain of his trousers.

Upon that, you felt your arousal spike. He craved this just as hopelessly as you.

Surpassing your now sopping folds, you glide a finger inside your opening once more.

A low, pent-up groan escaped him as you did so, making you smile between quickening breaths.

"Tell me what you want." He encouraged as your fingers began pumping faster.

There wasn't a mere trace of hesitation to your whispered reply, "You."

A grin tugged its way across Tommy's sharp face, the thick bulge of his crotch more prominent than ever. "You want my cock inside you, eh? Is that it?"

"Shit," You mewl, your soaked fingertips applying more pressure just where you ached for it, "P-Please, yes.."

Carefully, you eased a second finger alongside the first, working them together at your own perfect pace. Allowing your weighted lids to flicker themselves closed, you began needily grinding against the motions.

Murmured pleas flew from your lips one after the other, core quivering as you pant through gritted teeth - eyelids screwed shut.

"Making a mess over your fingers, so desperate to be fucked, hm?"

Tommy's gruff, taunting voice seeped into your ears, coursing through your body - assisting in bringing you closer and closer to a release. 

"Please, Tommy.." You whined, unintentionally letting his name fall out, coming far more naturally than you would've anticipated.

"That's right," He chuckled, "Beg for my cock." His speech was ragged, breathy. Far more than it'd previously been.

At that, the somewhat restrained rhythm of your hips intensified, eyes shooting open.

And what a sight for sore eyes.

Tommy's dark, costly trousers were messily pooled around his upper thighs, along with his underwear. One callous hand was wrapped loosely around his hard, naked length, consistently pumping up and down as he watched you. His strokes were hard. Hungry. But purposefully not enough to finish him.

It would've been utterly impossible to compress your moans as you soaked up the depraved, carnal image in front of you. Striking veins lay prominent beneath his skin as he fisted his pulsing cock, pre-cum coating his slit.

Your long-awaited orgasm crashed over your entirety, fierce and amplified by Tommy's gruff noises. 

"Good fuckin girl." He worshipped as you softly writhed, riding out the impossibly euphoric wave, tightly-wound knot bursting within your stomach. "Come here."

Almost in an instant, you were on your feet - effectively unable to let another second pass without claiming what was infront of you. Closing the majority of the distance between the two of you, you stood before Tommy, flushed face hovering mere inches from his.

"See this?" He clenched his tight jaw, subtly nodding toward the quick, slick pumps of his fist, "See how fucking hard you've made me just by playing with that pretty little cunt?"

Your body burned almost agonisingly, every part of you aching with the strong, undiluted need to feel him. To feel him pulse in your hand, to feel his withheld noises tickle your neck, your jaw. You needed it more than anything.

Instinctively, you reached one warm, smooth hand to his exposure, but before your fingers could surround his leaking cock, he tossed away your gesture. "No. I need to be inside you. Now."

His rapid hand suddenly abandoned his length, seeking a possessive hold over the chic material covering your waist. Your throat punctured with a brief, keen inhale as the pair of you suddenly rotated, your back meeting the door with a gentle clang. Tommy pressed the heat of his shirt-clad torso against your own, and his soft, ravenous lips began devouring yours. His tongue crept into your mouth, intertwining with yours in a hot, ever-tangled mess.

With great ease, he hoisted your bare thigh to his loosely unclothed hip, running his callous palms across the underside. The broad, flushed trip of his nose brushed with yours as his body-weight pressed against you, kiss deepening.

"I'm gonna give you want you need." His mouth grumbled into yours. A large, solemn hand bunched around his length, Tommy lined his thick, pre-cum coated tip with your drenched cunt, "Ready?"

"Mhm." You nodded. You simply couldn't wait any longer, you wanted all of it. All of him.

With one gentle buck of his hips, his cock was stretching out your tight, dripping entrance with a wavering groan.

"Fuck, that's good.." Tommy murmured, the heat of his breath tickling the intense burning of your own skin.

A bittersweet whine left your lips as he adjusted inside you, planting the first, tantalising thrust. The head of his length slapped your g-spot, forcing a loud moan from your throat.

Your stomach flipped repeatedly, feeling your slick pussy clench around the man, inadvertently pleading, "Please.." You whimpered, "More."

"More, eh?" He chuckled, "Patience." He punctured the demand with another, far-reaching thrust.

Developing a quicker pace, Tommys fingertips dug into the flesh of your thigh, pulling you against him in time.

"Come on," He heaved, planting an encouraging kiss to your lips, savouring your taste, "Put those legs around me."

With one swift toss, your legs locked around his bare pelvis, freeing his hands to roam free. One coursed up the back of your neck, the other tightly gripping your naked behind, desperately grinding you against his twitching cock. His slender digits wound through your hair, and the perfect placement for your own became so suddenly apparent. You tested the limits, grazing your nails over his shirt-clad back.

"Shit." Tommy grunted in response, "That's it. That's my fucking girl." 

The name set sparks alight throughout you as Tommy rocked you against the wooden door. Linking the plush of your lips with his once more, your tongue began to glide with his as your wetness clenched around him. His palm snapped against your ass as he landed a particularly deep thrust. You tossed your head back, his grasp of your hair shielding a clash with the door.

"Right there, hm?" He taunted, a pleased grin playing at his lips, "Tell me."

"Right there- Please.." You uttered between such laboured breaths. You took him further, his pulsing head wrapped by the quivering heat of your pussy, the door rattling against its rusty hinges as the two of you jerked against it, both reeling in the feeling of each other. 

Tommy briskly switched the focus of his touch from your backside to your cunt, fingers so flawlessly toying with the sensitive swell of of your clit, applying the pressure he knew you craved. Your eyes rolled back, falling a willing subject to his skilful fingers as you hurled your own hands over his shirt-covered back. 

"Priceless. Fucking priceless." He exhaled, gaze flitting over the sight of you. 

His muscles tensed as the ridges of your nails raked down his back, helplessly holding onto his body as your legs shook around him, the familiar sensation of a release overpower your senses. 

"Oh my- Fuck. Don't stop." The words spread over Tommy's neck, your head lolling atop his shoulder as you clutched him, wishing you could defy the impossibility of getting any closer than you were, "I'm so close.."

"I know," He slowly stroked over your unruly hair, "Let me feel you cum on my cock."

At that, you simply snapped. The sodden heat of your walls squeezed him mercilessly as your second orgasm hit even harder than the first. 

Tommy groaned once more, gruffer than any previous. Losing control, his pelvis involuntarily bucked, cock twitching inside you as his eyes clasped shut. Warmth spilled from his tip, pooling in your trembling pussy. Quivering, the pair of you took your time in sobering from the incomparable feeling. Tommy's hands caught your weakening legs, softly caressing the skin. Accompanied by unsteady breaths, satisfied smiles cracked on both of your faces. 

Perhaps you were glad to be caught after all.

Thank you for reading and hope you enjoyed! Please feel free to use the requests/asks feature on my page - it’d be so greatly appreciated!

[alicerosejensen]

Together forever pt.3

Warning: Yandere!leon; kidnapping, forced cohabitation, stalkering, fem/reader, age difference, pet names.

A/N: I wrote this earlier, but I will repeat it again so that there are no complaints: I do not approve of this in real life. What is written here is simply fiction, if you have any psychological trauma associated with this or do not like such content then DO NOT READ!

Part 1

Part 2

He really didn’t want to resort to force, but you simply left him no choice...

Flashback to weeks earlier, when you weren't yet under his protection, Leon was analyzing everything about his sweet angel. Well, ultimately, carrying your once again unconscious body back to bed, of course, the last thing he wanted was for you to get injured, but you never know what stupid thoughts could come to your mind after waking up again, so putting you into bed, he pulled out the handcuffs and chained your hand to the headboard of the bed. Not very comfortable but you can sleep.

Don't get him wrong, he doesn't want to keep you on a leash like a dog at all, but Leon has noticed for a long time that you are in constant danger. Back in that dusty archive, when you reached for another folder, the laces on your worn sneakers were untied. Darling, you don't know how to tie your shoelaces at all! He immediately thought that you could have fallen and broken your neck or any other bone, you could even have died by your own negligence! It's good that Agent Kennedy was around, right?

Looking at how you sleep and your eyelids twitch in your sleep, Leon threw the blanket back over you. He knows that your sleep is restless, in fact, he almost knows about nightmares, but you didn't need to be afraid anymore. Nevertheless, Leon was well aware that a sudden change of situation and getting used to the new rules that he created to protect you would be stressful for some time. However, it was still better than wandering through dark unsafe alleys alone on the way home, drinking drinks in cheap bars with your friends who didn't even bother to call you a taxi. Leon doesn't know who to thank for the fact that you're still alive and haven't been raped by some asshole who would break your whole life. Despite the fact that the DSO pays its people well, this rather applies to agents and various informants who risk their lives, but small archivists like you do not interest them at all. Therefore, his angel could not afford a nice apartment in a decent neighborhood without bastards and drug dealers who would gladly get you hooked on some trash. The door of your apartment was indecently easy to open Leon would have done it without a lock pick without any problems, but he didn't want to scare you, however…

It is now his house completely at your disposal. The refrigerator is filled with high-quality products and not cheap instant noodles whose packages were lying in your trash. Money was really tight, wasn't it? A mug with a touch of tea or coffee that for some reason you didn't want to wash well, an unmade bed with your smell that he liked to inhale so much. The moment he plopped down on your bed, the desire to hold you in his arms just took root in him.

He wanted your scent to sink deep into him, to penetrate into every cell of his body. He just needed to possess you. That's why Leon couldn't wait, especially since you never let him become anything closer than just a colleague with whom you chatted during lunch. At some point, knowing where you live, he even came up with the idea that you were really offended, but there was nothing about it from your correspondence or medical records. Like you just liked being alone.

He was watching you to keep you safe. He walked you home ready to become a savior at any moment, it's not the first time he's saved a lady in trouble, despite the fact that you weren't actually that lady. Not according to Leon. Sometimes he came to your apartment and leafed through your books that he didn't like, but he didn't judge. He was taught to be quiet and inconspicuous, so it was extremely difficult to understand about someone else's presence. The only thing that really started to bother you is that things sometimes rearrange themselves and the old traces of coffee on your favorite mug magically disappeared. Robberies were not uncommon in this troubled area, but the only valuable things in your apartment were a laptop and a game console. Actually, it was important for Leon to know about all your preferences!

Now it was all in the past. You're safe here with him, away from all the shit that can hurt you. And in fact, you no longer need to worry about bills and how to live until the next paycheck. Leon doesn't consider himself a psycho when he lies down next to you, inhaling the scent of your body, pulling you to him, kissing your temple. After all, if you want, he will become the hero of those stupid books for you.

"I will definitely take care of you," he whispers, making you shudder in your sleep after hearing this insinuating voice that leaves no chance of salvation.

💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙

Your resistance is really annoying. You are still sitting handcuffed to the bed and there are already bloody marks on your wrist from the skin erased into blood after a steady twitching of your hand.

"I just need to dress you up," Leon says in a calm voice, while his patience still allows him to hold in his hands cute clothes for his angel.

Skirt, tights, and a warm sweater. Of course it's warm at home, but he wants to be sure that you have everything you need. That's just you kicking, yelling at him and crying incessantly ignoring the pain in your wrist.

"Baby, don't make me use force. Enough of this moaning!"

"Let me go!" you shout on the verge of pulling the hated handcuffs even without looking at him. Over the past two days, hysteria has been covering you with your head constantly not allowing you to think clearly.

Leon sighs. In any case, he doesn't want to stuff you with drugs anymore, and then what he was trained as an agent comes into play. He needs to break the will of the enemy or rather his beloved. He didn't want to take emergency measures, but you just forced him. He comes up to you squatting down and takes your face by the chin, forcing you to look into his cold eyes. The prepared clothes fly to a chair that is too far from the bed to reach it, but it doesn't matter anymore.

"To be honest, I didn't think that you would calmly react to the move," you were outraged when you heard his words

"Moving in with you?!" you cry out. Tears are spurting from eyes. "Since when is kidnapping suddenly called moving?! I'm not a stray animal for you to just pick me up and stab me in the neck with various rubbish!"

"I could have been slower, but you just left me no choice. Seriously, I could no longer watch you live in that anthill and spend 10 hours in a dusty room earning yourself asthma. Although considering your problems with shoelaces, I would bet that you would have killed yourself earlier by falling off a stepladder or would have been crushed by one of those huge boxes with folders."

“what?.." a guess flashes through your head.

Of course, he could probably somehow get a dossier on you and find out the address of your residence, but… rearranged things, a mug… Did he break into your apartment? You've heard that Leon was one of the best. Patrick even once mentioned that the president himself constantly praised Leon and his services to the country could not be called insignificant. There are many successfully completed missions behind him, but you have never really cared about it. At least until you yourself become one of these successful missions.

"Your poor stomach won't thank you for stuffing it with these disgusting noodles and chocolate. You need to eat right, honey," his words make you angry "You need a proper daily routine, good sleep, fresh air and balanced nutrition. I can provide you with all this, but you only need to be my good girl."

Leon's hands grab you by the face and his forehead presses against yours when he closes his eyes, stroking your cheeks wet with tears with his thumb, then briefly and gently kissing your lips, which is why you try to turn away from him.

"Heal your head!" another shout and insult. "As an agent, you're probably supposed to have some fancy psychiatrist or psychologist!"

"It's true," he easily agrees, biting his lip and getting back on his feet. It still didn't work out in a good way to solve the issue "One way or another, you will obey me. I just wanted us to come to this without unnecessary conflict and tantrums, but if you like it more, then fine. Sit alone for a couple of days without food and water. And I'll come back later and you'll tell me about your decision."

"Wait!" You called out to him almost at the door when he had already turned the handle. Leon turned in anticipation of your words and probably there was still a glimmer of hope in him that you would accept his love right now without radical decisions. "You can't keep me here! My family and at work will be looking for me. No one will believe that I just disappeared!"

Leon only grinned briefly.

"Oh, sweetheart. People disappear every day and believe me, many don't care about them, and as for your family, they could take better care of you, but if they didn't, then this care falls on my shoulders"

The hope that it was just a way of intimidation for further submission glowed deep in your chest. No matter how much the soul did not want it, the brain still suggested that Leon was never the one for whom he could be mistaken. The sound of his footsteps quickly subsided and occasionally you could catch some rustling and knocking on the ground floor. Didn't want to know what Kennedy was doing there, but fear kept throwing up ideas about some sadistic torture room and the fact that he wanted you to forcibly become his girlfriend made you suspect of possible sexual abuse after which it would be impossible to become the same.

And yet the wounded deer jumps higher, fights more desperately. You tried to somehow take off your handcuffs, and to be honest with yourself, your hand was really hurting mercilessly that you wanted to howl. It will be quite difficult without an analgesic. The search for some kind of paper clip, an accidentally lying nail under the bed or something with which you could unlock the lock was not successful. However, you didn't have the hacking skill either, and the handcuffs definitely weren't from some sex shop. Steel bites into the skin until it bleeds, and it would be worth listening to Leon though in this: no need to make sudden movements. Moreover, there are already enough bloodstains on the bed linen, but you were so absorbed in despair that the brain simply ignored part of the pain, but very soon it will be very hard.

Add to that the fact that Leon decided to starve you.

At first, everything was even tolerable. The stomach began to cramp from hunger only in the evening add to this the fact that you are being kept locked up handcuffed to the bed makes your body exhausted. You cried for several hours, but Leon's mercy did not descend to you. It really wasn't a prank and he kidnapped you for his own purposes, which you didn't want to know anything about.

"Leon?.." is quieter than you wanted, you called him again.

It all seemed like a nightmare. Time dragged on so slowly that it was unbearable and scary from the unknown. You were hoping that Leon had made a mistake somewhere and the police would find you very soon, the main thing at this moment is to stay alive and not dead because you definitely won't be able to win by force against a government agent who has undergone professional training and completed many successful missions. When your nerves calmed down a little, you started thinking about how to deceive him. It may not be possible to escape, but send an SMS or make a call to the rescue service. You've heard these stories when a girl called under some pretext and was rescued, but will Leon trust you with the phone?

Later you heard footsteps. Probably Leon was listening to the sounds that you could make, but you were silent, looking at the door with the eyes of a frightened doe. However, nothing happened.

He's probably gone.

The throat was dry. You tightly squeezed your eyes shut trying to calm your breathing and come up with a plan of action. If hunger helped at first, then as time went on, the thought of food and water constantly stirred your thoughts.

there was one maddening silence around. Your wrist began to itch and throb painfully, the blood clotted, but at the slightest movement it began to bleed. It got dark outside again and it started to get cold. You carefully crawled under the blanket, covering your frozen feet with it, trying not to think about the desired water, especially since you had of blood loss. How long can you live without water? 3 days? 4 maybe 5 days?

"Please?" you whispered softly, starting to cry again and giving in to panic. "Leon?"

You needed painkillers. It was a bad idea to actively pull with your hand, but people often do what is not necessary when they panic and you had enough reasons to worry, but in the end there was no point in protesting. Not when you are on someone else's territory under the power of a physically strong person. And yet, most of you wanted to scream and scream, beat him and fight, and not invent plans to escape and naively rely on his mercy, which probably does not exist.

"Leon!" you called again louder in a plaintive voice, licking your dry lips. "Please… at least give me some water."

Drugs and stress perfectly lead to dehydration. Especially the first one considering that you were sick earlier. But Leon was still deaf to the pleas, it was generally quiet downstairs. Maybe he was already asleep?

By nightfall, the condition only worsened. You wrist was swollen and even the slightest movement caused hellish pain, throat was dry and your stomach hurt wildly that it began to seem that he began to digest himself. Maybe agents can safely endure such trials with dignity, but again, you have never been interested in this. You didn't even have the strength to cry.

Actually, it didn't take him two days because his heart was just bursting with pity for you.

Leon looked at you with such a puppy-dog look when you were sitting on the bed with your head bowed and trembling. Well, one day would be enough for his princess, and he sincerely hoped that this punishment would be more than enough.

Click.

You shuddered from another flash of pain and when you opened your eyes, you shuddered with fright when you came face to face with him again.

However, the handcuffs were removed.

"poor girl, I really didn't want anything," he threw the handcuffs on the bedside table, "But sometimes we have to do things that we don't like, right? if you hadn't screamed, things wouldn't be so bad right now and your arm wouldn't be swollen."

He stretched out his arms to lift you up, but noticed another resistance when your tired body moved away from him, which made Leon look at you with a threatening look again.

"Do you want to sit like this for another day?"

You nodded your head negatively and out of fear allowed him to lift you up to lower you to the first floor.

"Give me some water, please…" by God, this was the only thought in head

"Be patient angel" Leon's lips touched your temple when he put you on the sofa.

The glass of water handed to you turned out to be so desirable that it seemed you were a traveler lost in the desert who found an oasis. And yet Leon didn't limit you to one glass, allowing you to drink as much as you need, BUT in small sips. Given the thirst, you ignored his words and eventually choked, starting to cough while covering your face with your hand. Of course he didn't like it.

"Sure it's my fault, but you have to listen to me!" An irritated male voice made you shrink and look at him with those cute eyes that Leon loves and hates so much because you are afraid of him.

He put the first aid kit next to the table and took your wrist carefully, first examining the deep abrasion. You screamed loudly when Leon treated her with a disinfectant solution and then wrapped her in a bandage. having previously smeared some ointment, but it did not hurt less from this. And then he kissed you on the forehead like a brave child for whom it was a feat to endure such a thing.

"What do you want from me anyway?" you asked, afraid of the answer anyway, because your presence here did not bode well. "I didn't do anything wrong to you"

"I didn't say you did anything to me. I just want to take care and keep the one I love safe. In this case, it's you."

"Me?"

"Exactly," he smiled, sitting closer, "I wanted everything to be like everyone else, but you didn't give me a chance. Good for Patrick, too. And yet, to see how you walk everywhere where there is a potential danger… I just couldn't, Princess. I just couldn't take it anymore. But now I promise that I will take care of you and I know you better than you know yourself! Just leave all the tantrums of the fight. No more bumps or bites. I'm serious!"

Yes, there was a good mark of your teeth on his hand.

Although you didn't smile and were actually horrified by the human diversity, one thing was clear for sure even through fear - he wasn't going to kill you or…rape. The latter is not accurate, but the soul hoped for it.

"Just let's do it in order." You reluctantly nodded knowing that you have no choice "First we will put you in order, I will make you a bath and you wash, then you will eat and we will have a good rest and in the morning I will tell you about the rules with a fresh head. I will give you everything you want: books, clothes, cosmetics, whatever you want, but in return, no resistance, okay?!" Leon's hand stroked your tangled hair and at the same time pulled you closer to him against your will, but even despite a little resistance, he pressed you to his chest. "I won't be in a hurry. We will go slowly, there is no need to be afraid for me, the main thing is your safety, and there will be time for the rest"

And hear the joyful beating of his heart, you hoped only that you would have enough time to find help or escape, but for now… you may have to be not an obedient but a cunning girl, otherwise the consequences can be fatal.

For now, you need to wait for the moment and find its weaknesses.

[vivian-pascal]

Rainy days║chapter 1║

𝘸𝘩𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘯 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘦𝘵𝘴.

dbf!joel x f!reader

summary: When it's Joel instead of your dad picking you up after you land, you can't resist your urges when you see him for the first time in 2 years.

warnings: sexual tension, slow burn, unspecified age gap, feelings, f!masturbation, reader has description for what they are wearing and their hair.

As you step off the plane you immediately get hit with the summer smell of Austin. The hot breeze landing on your face making your hair flow in the wind. The dusty scent of the air going up your nose as you breathe in softly. The feeling of the warm sun on your skin as you walk to the pick up area.

You had jut gotten back from your second year of college studying to hopefully become a psychologist in law. You asked your parents if you could stay with them for summer break since it was going to be packed in LA. Of course they had said yes. They missed you dearly and you were very excited to revisit your childhood home.

As you carry your suitcase close to your side, walking along the outside of the airport, you text your mom you've landed and park yourself on a bench. Your wearing a white sun dress with yellow daises on it and some white converse to match. Your hair is tied back in a high ponytail with two strands sticking out at the front of your face. You go to check your phone to see that your mom has replied back. As you open the message, your face pauses in horror.

'Hey hun! dads at work and im out with the girls, something came up and i can't drive so joel's gonna pick you up ok? love you so much and i can't wait to see you! safe travels!'

Joel. Fucking Joel Miller. The man you had been crushing on since you were a teenager. Your dads best friend. The man has been through everything with you growing up. He even witnessed your first period. You were so embarrassed because it had happened at his house with Sarah. You've always had a childhood crush on him. You'd just hoped those feelings would've gone away. Guess you were wrong.

You were nervous as fuck. Its been only two minutes since your mom sent the message and you are sure you could just run home at this point. In fact, you would much rather do that, than sit in a car with Joel.

You finally respond to your mom with a thumbs up emoji and settle back in your bench. You slowly lean back against the head rest and close your eyes.

You open your eyes to the feeling of calloused hands on your shoulders. Joel. "Why hello there darlin'." He gives you a lopsided grin as he stands with his hands on his hips. You look up at him and itch the back of your neck. "Uhm, hello." You look up at him and give him a soft smile. He swiftly crosses his arms over his chest and leans forward a bit.

"Wow, I came all this way to pick you up and all I get is a 'uhm hi'??" he opens up his arms as to what you assume is a hug. " C'mon now sugar, give your old man a hug." he says with a southern drawl as he leans down to give you a hug.

He's always been the best at giving bear hugs, and with you, the height comparison made it feel a little more special. He always had to bend down and wrap his strong arms around your small little figure. He would nuzzle his head into the crook of your neck and all you could smell was him.

He softly lets go of you and carries your suitcase to his truck. You walk around to the passenger side and hop in. He walks around to his side and jumps in next to you." How was the flight?" he asks as he starts reversing.

God, you forgot how beautiful this man was, his fluffy salt and peppered hair, his graying scruff around his face, large hands in the steering wheel. "It was okay." you answer after a minute of silence. You lift your leg up so you can rest your head on your knee and look out the window, Out the corner of your eye, you can see him looking at where your dress runs up a little to high on your thigh, showing a bit of your white lace underwear. You grin to yourself as you look out the window once more.

"What're ya doin' again in school?" he asks keeping his eyes on the road. You feel a little more comfortable with him now and begin to get a little cocky. "Joel, every time I see you, I always have to tell you! You getting old, old man?" you smirk as you see his jaw tighten and his hands on the steering wheel squeezing hard.

"Better watch that tone darlin'. Didn't come all this way to teach a brat a lesson." You scoff at his remark and begin to take your leg down, crossing it over the other. You can see his stupid grin on his face. You swallow roughly and run your hands threw your hair. You begin to close your eyes, as it has been a long flight for you.

When you slowly lift your head and come back to reality. You think you've been sleeping for ages. A voice knocks you out of your dreaming state and you realize its Joel.

"Why hello there darlin', Almost thought i'd lost ya. Didn't realize traffic was that bad so we took a little longer than we needed too. You're gonna stay at my place till mornin' alright sugar?" he smiles softly and you nod your head. He grabs your arm and helps you out of the truck to get your bags.

Once you get inside, he leads you to the guest bedroom and sets your things inside. "Where's Sarah?" you ask before he leaves. " She's out tonight with a couple of work buddies, just you and me tonight darlin'." He grins then walks out the room. You smile softly and check the time. 10:00pm. You begin to unpack your pajamas and close the door.

Once you get changed, you walk downstairs to see the tv on and Joel sat on the couch. You walk to the kitchen and quickly grab a class. Joel slowly looks over at you and begins to speak. "Do ya want any whiskey?" You look at your empty glass then back at him. "Oh, uhm, no thanks, i think i'm just gonna go to bed, its been a long day." You smile at him and begin your descent up the stairs.

You stop short when you hear him speak again." Hey, f'ya need anythin, i'm just two doors down." He gives you a reassuring smile as you nod. You begin to walk when he speaks once more. "Hey sugar?" he asks. You turn around. "Yes Joel?" He stands still for a moment before smiling a little. " Sleep tight." You give him a quick grin and head for your room.

Once your inside, you close the door and put the glass on the bedside table. You crawl under the sheets and turn the lamp off. You breathe in swiftly and all you can smell is him. You close your eyes as you begin to drift off into a soft slumber.

You wake up abruptly and realize you need to pee. You get out of bed and slowly make your way over to the door. You quietly crawl out of your room and down the hall into the bathroom. You close the door and go inside. Once your done, you wash your hands and make your way back to the room.

You get back in and shut the door, You make your way over to the bed and crawl in once more. You lay awake for several minutes. Dreaming, thinking, wondering about Joel. You can feel your sleep shorts getting wetter and wetter each minute you think about him. The way his hands squeezed tightly on the steering wheel, how his soft curls would fall in front of his face just right.

You couldn't help but trickle your fingers down the length of your body and into your short. You began to slowly massage your clit and imagined his hands. Big, strong, calloused hands everywhere on your body. You quietly moaned at the pleasure you felt. You began to move your fingers to your weeping cunt and inserted a finger.

You covered your mouth in attempts to hide your moans as you added a second finger. All you could think about was how he would move his fingers in all the right places, praising you as you did so good for him. Taking his big cock down your throat as he fell apart under you. You couldn't help the whimper that fell from your lips as you felt the tight coil in your stomach begin to build.

You moved your fingers faster and faster as you dreamed of him. You try your best to cover your moans as you orgasm washes over you. You finger movements go to a slow as you take deep breaths in. "Fuck." You close your eyes and try to calm your breathing. At least you'll be able to sleep now.

The morning comes by quickly. The early sun rising in from the blinds you forgot to close the night before, You sleep short still a little sticky from your previous actions. You slowly yawn and reach over to check the time on your phone. 9:00am. You quietly get out of bed and make your way over to your suitcase pulling out your toothbrush and heading down the hall to the bathroom

You close the door and begin to brush your teeth. When you're done, you open the door only to be greeted with a big, bare chest. He rubs his eyes slowly as you take in his figure. His bed head is gorgeous, all strands of hair going every way, his tanned chest is filled with little freckles, his boxers, which are packing a lot of weight, are fit tighlty around his ass. You close your mouth and swallow deeply as you drag your eyes up to his face.

He looks down at you with an awkward smile. "Well, uhm, morning darlin'. You look directly into his eyes. "Morning Joel." And with that you make your way past him and rush into your bedroom. You quickly close the door and lean against it as thought begin to fill your head.

Holy shit, what if he heard me last night? What if he knows? He can't know, can he?

"Fuck." you whisper as you make your way to the edge of the bed and sit down. You hear a faint knock on your door. " Hello?" you ask. "Hey, i'm uh, i'm dropping you off in about 10 minutes, just wanted to give you a heads up." You nod to yourself. "Okay." You say quietly.

Once your dressed, you grab your bags and begin your descent down the stairs. Joel is sitting at the bar with a cup of coffee and some toast, scrolling through what you assume is facebook. You put your suitcase next to the door and stand there awkwardly.

"So, how'd you sleep?" He looks up from his phone and puts his toast down. "Fine, how 'bout you?" you debate on actually telling him what had happened in the depth of the night but you thought that was absolutely absurd and its not like he would care,right? "I slept okay." You say quietly. He gives a quick nod and stands up from his stool. He walks over to the sink and puts his plate inside while chugging the rest of his coffee down.

"Alright, let's get goin.'" He grabs his keys and picks up your suitcase as you both head to his truck. He puts your suitcase in the back and hops in the drivers side. You quickly buckle up and sit with your legs crossed. He reverses and puts his hand behind your head rest to look out the back. You can see all the veins on his arms that are popping out. Perfect for you to lick.

You quickly look away as he removes his hand and puts it on the steering wheel. You sit in an awkward silence, as you look out the window and watch the world go by. You get a text from your dad asking when you'll be there. "Do you know what time we'll be there?" you ask looking at him. "20 minutes." He doesn't look at you.

"Okay." You say blandly. You quickly text your dad back and wait for his response. You watch as the nostalgic scenery fills your view with all the places you used to go to as a kid. Playing with Sarah while your dads talked away about their new contracting business. You then remember that Joel has a brother. Jesus, it hasn't been that long since ive been home, has it?

"How's Tommy doing?" you ask. He takes a deep breath in. "He's fine." you look down at your lap and play with your fingers. "That's good." you say quietly. He makes a right turn into a neighborhood that you instantly remember. All the times you've played with Sarah in the surrounding fields, it makes you a little emotional but also excited to be home.

You text your dad you've arrived as Joel pulls into the driveway. You quickly unbuckle as you see your dad in the doorway. You run out of the truck and into his arms. "Hey honey! I missed you so much!" He gives you a big hug and squeezes you tightly. "I missed you so much dad!" You give him one last hug before going out to Joel. Your dad takes your bags in and walks into the kitchen.

You find Joel in the same spot. "Well uhm." You scratch the back of your head. "Thanks for picking me up and letting me stay at your place." You smile shyly as he begins to move closer.

He opens his arms for a hug and you lean into him. A few seconds go by with your eyes closed and his head is right next to your ear. You were breathing him in. Physically. "You make some pretty goddamn noises sugar." He whispers. You don't know what he's talking about until you realize. You quickly stiff in your stance. He nuzzles into your neck and gives you a quick kiss under your earlobe.

He let's go of you and stands up straight. Your still in awe as he begins to speak. "See ya 'round sugar." He gives you a quick smile as he makes his way back to the truck with his hands in his pockets. You slowly watch as his truck backs out of your driveway and you see him give you a nod and a sly wink.

"What the fuck."

[verbenaa]

silver and silk | kinktober 2024

𝓅𝒶𝒾𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔: Astarion/F!Tav 𝓇𝒶𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔: E 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉: 4.0k 𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈: cunnilingus, choking/erotic asphyxiation, piv sex, safe words/gestures, Dom/sub undertones, the hint of a breeding kink, formal wear, rough sex

𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎: “And we, my dear, have some very urgent business to attend to.” His expression is nothing short of devilish as he practically pushes her inside of the tiny closet and shuts the door behind them both, only waiting a mere moment before wrapping his arms around her waist and lowering his lips to her neck.

“Urgent, Astarion?” She rolls her eyes despite the loosening of her limbs underneath the feeling of his lips kissing down over her collarbone, mouthing at the exposed cleavage of her breasts before he lowers himself to the floor in front of her.

✧· · ─── ·✧· ─── · ·✧

In which Astarion finds it in his heart to help Rin work off some of her frustrations in a variety of ways. 

𝒶/𝓃: hellooooo! this is my first piece for this year's kinktober! I'm only writing a few of these due to limited time unfortunately, but this is the first one up. I'm not really working from any real prompt list or anything, and instead I just played around with a few ideas that I felt like fit with the reason of the season 🤭

This fic features my tav Rin, a half-elf bard, who I write about in my longfic to eden. You don't need to read that in order to enjoy this (but I obviously think you should, duh) because she's a total hottie that doesn't know how to shut up 💖 let me know what you all think in the comments either here or on ao3 and reblogs make me cry with happiness ❤️ enjoyyyy 🎃

read on ao3 | masterlist | to eden link

The scrape of embroidery from Astarion’s doublet against the bared skin of Rin’s shoulders is a small price to pay—a necessary discomfort, so to speak—for a tiny piece of stolen joy on a night like tonight.

Gods, she hated these events. 

When she had saved the world, she hadn’t realized one of the direct results of it would be having to attend things like this—boring galas with drunken patriars, dusty bureaucrats, and simpering ladies who fawned over and gawked at her in equal measure, as though she were some creature meant to be kept behind a wall of glass to be studied for her strangeness or her unerring charm or whatever the hells other attribute it was they wanted to ascribe to her.

And Rin supposes that, to them, perhaps she was strange and charming. 

After all, it was no noble knight or magnificent wizard who had led them to victory. It was simply her—a half-rate bard with a decidedly questionable skillset born from no one in particular, like so many others in the depths of the Lower City.

It had been fun at first, when she thought about the fact that it was not someone from a storied family who had saved them all, but instead someone without a last name who couldn’t even pay her rent every month and survived on cheap tavern wine and bread, not to mention her penchant for cheating at card games.

She had tired of it all after the third or fourth party, of course; niceties from people who would have rather let her die in a ditch than to have been bothered to afford her a single copper as a child falling terribly flat, and by now Rin was downright bored of it.

Even with her dearest’s presence by her side—Astarion’s arm wrapped through her own all evening as they made rounds around the ballroom and danced waltz after waltz, dressed in his finery with its elegant beading and metallic stitching shining in the candlelight—Rin was thoroughly at the end of her rope.

Astarion had dragged her inside of this tiny closet not terribly long ago, sensing the irritation building in her chest that was becoming harder and harder to hide with every sip of wine she drank, exhausted of donning the usual easy and unbothered facade she typically puts forth so gracefully during these sorts of things.

But not even the glittering candlelight, beautiful music, and expensive wine could soothe her simmering agitation, and so he took it upon himself to soothe it for her.

Rin will always remember his completely selfless kindness when she thinks back on it; it must have been terribly hard, after all, for him to have decided to steal away with her into some random closet.

Astarion grabs her hand within his and leads her away from the ballroom without a word, traipsing with her down hallways this way and that before they come across a locked door. Rin’s not entirely sure how he knew about it—or maybe it’s nothing but luck on his part—but within seconds Astarion has a lock pick in hand and the door is opened, the mechanism clearly no match against him.

“And we, my dear, have some very urgent business to attend to.” His expression is nothing short of devilish as he practically pushes her inside of the tiny closet and shuts the door behind them both, only waiting a mere moment before wrapping his arms around her waist and lowering his lips to her neck.

“Urgent, Astarion?” She rolls her eyes despite the loosening of her limbs underneath the feeling of his lips kissing down over her collarbone, mouthing at the exposed cleavage of her breasts before he lowers himself to the floor in front of her.

“Yes, terribly urgent.” He’s on his knees now, busy pressing searing kisses to the skin of her lower stomach as his hands find her hips and urge her to turn around. 

Rin needs little direction, spinning to face the shelf behind her without complaint as Astarion’s hands begin to pull the skirt of her dress up. 

“You see, it’s come to my attention that my dear, sweet wife has run out of patience tonight. I’m only doing my job as a wonderful, doting husband to help relieve some stress.”

“How charitable of you,” She says wryly. 

The sight of Astarion on his knees will always be one that begins to kindle that familiar flame of heat deep in her belly; a flame that’s only ignited hotter by the sensation of his fingertips trailing up the inside of her leg.

“Incredibly.” He doesn’t bother to remove her underwear when his hands reach the apex of her thighs, simply pushing the gusset of it to the side with his fingers to make room for his mouth, wasting no time as he buries his tongue inside her core and lets his fingers round on her clit.

Rin comes in what feels like record time on his lips, the sounds of her cries muffled against her palm as she leans against the shelf in front of her, careful not to rattle the silver as her body shakes.

Astarion’s mouth glistens with her spend when he rises from behind her, unbuttoning his pants with a fluid flick of his wrist and freeing his cock from the confines of his underwear before filling her in a single stroke, her body still working through the aftershocks of her orgasm as he hilts himself inside her.

Which is exactly how Rin found herself here, fingers still grasping onto the very same wooden shelf and hoping dearly that no one outside of the small silver closet they stole away into can hear the slight metallic clink of the metal goblets and dishes every time Astarion thrusts into her from behind. 

He has her bent, her ass jutting out towards his hips as the beautiful gown that he had lovingly designed to fit her every curve is pushed up around her waist in a mess of silk and embroidered tulle. The soft edge of the panties she wore—also designed by him and decidedly more fun to be fit for as he had double-checked his measurements—rubbing against every inch of his cock as he moves.

“Don’t you dare mess up my hair, Astarion.” Rin whips a glance behind her to where Astarion stands, one of his hands sneaking up from its place at her hips with fingers trailing towards the back of her neck as it searches to bury itself into her intricate updo, unruly dark blonde curls all twisted together and held with emerald-studded pins. “It took far too long to get it look like that and I will not be redoing it.”

“But sweetheart, I need something to hold onto,” Astarion mockingly whines into her ear as he thrusts particularly hard, hitting the end of her cunt. Rin barely withholds the moan that threatens to rip free from her lips, her fingertips gripping the shelf in front of her tighter.

She rolls her hips into his, trying to take him deeper. “You can hold onto it when you fuck me again later tonight, if you’re so desperate to touch it. In fact, Astarion, I’ll even give you full permission to ruin it.”

“‘Later tonight’?” He hits that same spot again, and this time she doesn’t hold back the soft moan that escapes her lips. “My, you’re simply insatiable, darling, if you’re already thinking about me fucking you again.”

Rin can hear the smirk in his words and doesn’t need to turn around in order to see it but she does anyway, swiveling her head to glance back at the look of pure arrogance decorating his temptingly plush lips.

“If you’re in need for something to hold onto, dear husband, you can just hold right here instead.” Rin guides the hand currently running cool fingertips teasingly up and down the nape of her neck around to the front, settling it along the line of her throat. 

Astarion’s hips slow to a stop as he closes his hand softly around the elegant column of her neck before running his thumb in a soft touch over her skin, keeping his length still buried deep inside her.

“My, what a mood you are in, love.” His voice darkens as he caresses her neck, running his fingers across a set of lovingly made scars that decorate the side of it.

“Make sure I feel it. You can do that, can’t you?” Her hand is still wrapped around the back of his, and she squeezes it slightly to make sure that Astarion fully understands her point.

Thankfully, he’s a quick study and he tightens his grip infinitesimally, dragging her deeper onto his cock with the other hand still grasping at her hip. 

“Oh, I’ll do anything for you.” Astarion leans in as he’s fully seated inside of her, letting his lips wander across her rouged cheek as his thumb presses in on her windpipe, nothing about the touch sweet or delicate. 

It’s perfect.

“Good. Now move,” Rin rasps as she bucks her hips, urging him to give her more as his lips brush along the side of her face—pressing kisses to her temple, the corner of her painted lips, the freckles that dot over her cheeks.

“Is that how you want it then, my sweet? Does my love want it hard?” He has the nerve to practically snicker in her ear as he teases her, the bastard. 

He’s lucky she loves him for it.

“I want it as hard as you can give it.” She grinds herself against his still hips, relishing the soft moan that escapes from his mouth at the movement. “Provided you can, of course.”

“Are you questioning my abilities, darling?”

“I would never dare to do such a thing.”

“A pity, because if you were I’d simply have to show you the full extent of them. I’d have you crying for your release later tonight, my sweet, while I pleasured you senseless in an attempt to show you everything I’m capable of.”

“Please,” She begs for it on a breathy gasp, the picture painted in her mind by those words one she finds incredibly tempting.

Once upon a time, she would have hated the sound of that word escaping her lips, but now she finds she doesn’t quite mind when it slips past her defenses to fall upon Astarion’s elegantly jeweled ears.

“Gods, I love it when you’re like this,” Astarion practically moans into her ear, his cock twitching inside her as he holds her still. “So terribly desperate and needy.”

Rin leans into his the touch of his lips against the soft point of her ear as much as she can with his hand still wrapped around her neck, no longer quite so bothered by the potential of a ruined updo as she sighs, “I learned from the best.”

Finally, Astarion begins to move in long, slow draws of his length against her walls, almost pulling himself out of her each time before pushing himself back in, filling her inch by inch.

“Do remember to tap my hand if it becomes too much. Are we clear, darling?”

Rin grinds against him again, eager for him to finally fucking move. “Like crystal, love.”

She can just barely make out the wolfish grin on his lips in the darkness as his hips find a slow rhythm, rocking into her gently as his hand tightens around her neck again. 

It’s not enough to really hurt—never enough to truly cause her any sort of pain or injury—but it’s just enough so that she can feel the precious air in her lungs become harder to access, making it the tiniest bit harder to breathe.

Astarion was perhaps many things, but he was nothing if not careful in moments like these ones, where they played with the heady combination of pain and pleasure, always perfectly aware of her limits as much as his own.

He drops a kiss onto the shell of her ear before nipping at it, grazing the sharp point of his fangs across the sensitive skin. She whines at the feeling and he’s quick to shush her, the hand on her hip swatting at her behind in a quick spank that has her hips jumping. 

“I’m going to have to shove my handkerchief into that pretty little mouth of yours, darling, if you can’t be quiet. Although, I think you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

Rin winks back at him in response, biting her lip against the light pressure Astarion puts on her neck while she answers every one of his slow thrusts with a roll of her hips.

“You absolute freak.” His pace begins to speed up—no longer that slow, casual slide of his cock inside her, replacing it with increasingly punishing thrusts that has their skin meeting together audibly in the silence of the closet.

Her emerald eyes are gleaming in the darkness as Astarion tightens his grip on her neck on a particularly deep thrust that has another ragged moan breaking free from her lips. “Takes one to know one.”

Astarion drives into her hard and fast, that one hand around her neck squeezing just enough to have more heat surging through her body, driving her higher and higher with every movement of his hips.

She’s at his mercy and she loves every minute of it as he fucks her just as she had wanted, chasing every thought out of her mind that didn’t revolve around him.

“I’m going to fuck you full of my come and you’re going to love every minute of it, aren’t you?” His hips collide roughly with her own as he whispers low into her ear, the words sending a bolt of pleasure straight to her center.

Rin nods as she meets his thrusts, the hand on her neck tight as she manages the thought to speak a single word. “Yes.”

“Say that you want it, darling.” He loosens his grip just slightly so that she can speak easier, a rush of air whooshing into her lungs as she takes it in on a gasped breath. 

She’s barely thinking coherently when she sighs the words he wants to hear, every one of them uttered only fuel for the want burning inside her. “I want it. I want your come, Astarion.”

The hand on her hip curls around her front, fingertips dragging as they explore the skin of her stomach before dipping lower. 

Rin moans when the coolness of his skin meets her clit, Astarion running his fingers over it with a teasing brush before moving them lower to collect some of the wetness from where they are joined together.

“Tell me that you want me to fill your tight, perfect cunt up with it.” 

He returns his fingers up to round on the pearl at the top of her folds, her body shaking around him as the pleasure builds and builds and builds under his care. 

“Please, Astarion. Fill up my cunt with your come, fuck me full of it. Whatever you want, I’ll take it all.” 

She should be embarrassed by the words she’s babbling, but she’s far from feeling ashamed by them as they leave her lips. She’ll gladly take whatever he wants to give her—anything—as long as it’s from him.

“I know you will, my love.” He bestows another kiss against her temple, lips lingering over her skin as his cock brushes against that special place inside her with every thrust as his thumb presses harder into her neck again. “Now, be a good girl and come for me.”

She tightens around him as he circles her clit faster, his length hitting perfectly inside her every time. Astarion’s determined to send her over the edge and draw her orgasm from her with the way he’s fucking her, and she’s more than willing to oblige him.

All it takes is a few more thrusts and she’s lost to the euphoria, careening into her pleasure as she comes, her body tightening around him. It sends a wave of heat through her veins, her body shaking as she cries out at the feeling. 

She barely remembers to move her hand from atop his to cover her mouth, absently thanking all those months they spent fucking in camp years ago where she learned to quiet her cries as she presses her lips into her palm and moans her pleasure into it. 

Her hips writhe, Astarion working her through it with his fingers still turning circles on her clit as his cock hits perfectly inside her, pleasure practically whiting out her mind with the pure feeling of it all.

She’s only just coming back down from her high when she hears Astarion’s moans turning increasingly desperate, his hips rutting into hers in a frenzy. 

“Fuck, Rin,” Astarion swears as he loses his rhythm, thrusts growing faster. “I’m going to come, sweetheart.”

“Gods, please, Astarion. Come inside me,” She moans in response, squeezing herself around him one last time as he sucks in a breath. 

He hilts himself as deep as he can on one last thrust as his orgasm hits, his hand falling from her neck to instead reach out to grasp at one of the shelves in front of them as he spills himself deep inside her warmth.

Astarion buries his face into her neck, the scent of her sweet perfume surrounding him as he lets his moans muffle into her skin as his hips rut into hers.

The satisfaction she feels as he comes inside her is yet another thing she should probably feel some sort of shame about; though she can’t seem to find it in her to care as his hips still press into her own, luxuriating in the warmth that blooms inside her chest instead as she smiles, still stuck in the dreamy haze of the afterglow.

He murmurs stray words of affection against her as he comes down and his hips finally slow—whispering his love in between the kisses he presses to her neck and shoulder as his hand slips away from her center to wrap around her waist instead. 

He’s saying something to her in Elvish that she can barely make out in the midst of her own exhaustion, the feeling of his cool cheek brushing against her overheated skin a balm as he presses another kiss to her shoulder, sending a shiver through her overwrought body.

“I know you’re alive because I can hear your heartbeat, but do speak up so I can know you’re alright, darling.”

Rin manages a dazed chuckle, squeezing his hand where it drapes around her waist. “I can confirm that I am still breathing for the moment, at least. But if I were to have died, that wouldn’t have been a bad way to go.”

“Undoubtedly. But I am very much glad you shall live on for another day.” He presses one last kiss to her neck, right over a set of scars, before rising to his full height behind her.

He pulls his softening cock out of her, his come seconds from dribbling down her legs when he brings his fingers down, swiping at his spend where it threatens to spread onto her folds.

Slowly, Astarion pushes his come back inside her as she moans low, limbs tightening at the feeling of his fingers moving deep.

He brushes a kiss to her cheek as he teasingly curls them once inside her, having the audacity to chuckle at the way her body pulses around him. “Keep it, won’t you?”

“Gods, Astarion,” Rin groans as his fingers retreat and he secures the gusset of her underwear back over her with a little pat before he steps back. “Have I ever told you that you’re really something else, sometimes?”

“Plenty of times. And I never tire of hearing it, my love.” His handkerchief materializes in his hand as he cleans his fingers before tucking himself back into his pants and buttoning himself back up with more grace than she certainly possesses after their little escapade. 

Hells, they were going to have to leave this closet soon and assess the damage done to their carefully made up visages. Rin’s confident her hair survived, if a little more mussed than it was, but the same cannot likely be said for her makeup. 

With any luck none of it will have migrated, at the very least saving her the embarrassment of looking like a fancily dressed circus clown.

Rin rights herself, ignoring the heat already sneaking to her cheeks at the knowledge that when she walks out of here, there will be no mistaking the activities they had just engaged in.

Especially with Astarion’s come now seeping into her panties, the scent of him inescapable as it mingles with her own.

“What do you say to one more glass of free wine and then we sneak out of here without saying goodbye to anyone?” She fluffs the skirt of her dress as Astarion reaches out to fix the neckline, pulled a little too low on her breasts for her own comfort.

“And deprive Florrick and Ravengard of their goodbye from our beautiful and heroic bard?” Astarion says, aghast.

Rin whacks him playfully on the chest, shooting him a smile as she checks the pins in her hair. 

“Ravengard is boring and Florrick is drunk, and if I have to hear either of them wax on about the Flaming Fist one more time tonight I may suffer psychological injury.”

“Alright, darling, you win. One more glass of wine and then we hope to never see these people again.”

They most certainly will have to see these people again, but was the point of being a good liar if you couldn’t even deceive yourself for a single evening?

“Maybe they’ll forget all about us and stop inviting us to these things, if we’re lucky.” Rin runs her hands through his hair, pushing fallen strands back into place before standing up on her tip toes to press a kiss to his lips.

Astarion happily returns it, his lips pulling into a smile as he kisses her back with a contented hum.

His arm loops around her, settling his hand on her lower back as he opens the door and peeks his head outside before ushering them both out of the closet, securing the door with a quiet click before they set back down the hallway.

Rin notices light from a nearby candelabra shining off of something in Astarion’s other hand, the color that of silver illuminated to a burnished gold in the flickering flames.

“Astarion, did you steal something from that closet?” She rolls her eyes before she shoots him a look of reproach for good measure. “You’ve got to stop stealing from people’s houses. It’s bad form.”

Astarion smirks proudly as he brandishes a set of silver spoons, both intricately patterned on the handles and easily worth a small fortune in gold coin.

“But darling, I thought you never wanted to be invited back?” He spins them between his nimble fingers with ease, a blur of metal twirling in the light that her eyes can barely follow the motion of.

She should probably tell him to go put them back. It would be very bad for her to turn a blind eye and continue to allow him to so blatantly commit thievery, wouldn’t it? 

She was a hero, after all. Or at least, that’s what they liked to call her.

But when had Rin ever cared much for laws or rules? It wasn’t like they’d even notice two missing spoons in an entire closet full of silver, honestly. 

Frankly, Astarion could have stolen much more, now that she thinks about it. 

“Fine, steal the spoons, what do I care? While you’re at it, maybe go for a bottle of wine from behind the bar, too?”

“A woman after my own heart,” Astarion sighs dramatically before pocketing his new treasures, swooping down to press a kiss to Rin’s cheek one last time before they enter the ballroom. “Your wish is my command, my sweet.”

Her eyes cut to his as they step into the cavernous room, glittering with mischief of her own as she raises a brow in challenge. 

“Don’t forget to make it an expensive one.”

[raineandsky]

#124

The hero rolls up on the driveway of a simple house. A giant tree is taking up most of the front garden, and with a squint they can see the cat they’re here to rescue, sitting as high as physically possible amongst the leaves. Someone is standing at the bottom, staring up at it, a large blanket wrapped in their arms.

The hero gets out of their car and slams the door behind them, earning the person’s attention. The hero is rather surprised, for lack of a better word, to find the villain looking back at them.

The villain seems to go through the five stages of grief in the space of a second. Their whole body is tensed, like they’re going to bolt at any second. “What the hell are you doing here?”

The hero turns their eyes up to the cat above them. A giant thing, bless. A ragdoll, if the fluffiness is anything to go by. “Is the cat yours?”

The villain follows their gaze. “I called the fire apartment for that,” they mumble.

“Well, the fire department sent me,” the hero says innocently. “How long has it been up there?”

“She has been there for two hours.”

“And you stood out here for two hours before you thought calling someone was a good idea?”

“Did the fire department send you to mock me?” The villain scowls, the blanket scrunched tight in their fists. “I don’t think I can be bothered dealing with you today.”

“Nah, they just thought I could earn some bonus popularity with the public if I save a cat,” the hero comments idly.

“Well, you’re not earning any popularity here,” the villain snaps, “so you can go ahead and get the people I actually called out here.”

“What would the agency think if I can’t even save a cat?” The hero barks a laugh. “Unfold your blanket. It’s useless like that.”

The villain’s scowl deepens but they do as they’re told, flapping the blanket to unravel it from whatever weird braid they’ve woven it into. The hero studies the tree, carefully testing the sturdiness of the footholds, before carefully puling themself off the ground.

The villain looks up to find the hero halfway up the tree and, perhaps in the world’s rarest show of concern, cries, “what are you doing?”

“Saving your cat,” the hero retorts between short breaths. The cat yowls as they get close, a spit of a hiss thrown at them as a warning. Pets are like their owners, the hero supposes.

“You’re okay, Dusty!” the villain shouts, then a little more incredulously, “she doesn’t like other people. Just so you know.”

The hero can see that from the way Dusty—Dusty, how much does the villain hate her to call her that?—is still hissing and edging out of reach. She can’t go much further but by god, she’s going to try.

The branch under the hero curves dangerously as they pull themself up. Dusty’s claws are very much out, digging into the bark under her feet as the branch sways, another hiss spat at the hero. “I’m trying to help you,” the hero says sharply, as if she can understand them. “God, I’m not doing this for you again.”

The hero edges along the branch, acutely aware of how much it’s bending under their weight. Seemingly too close for comfort, Dusty makes a furious swipe with that hiss that’s probably going to haunt the hero’s nightmares. “[Villain],” they call, “get under her. It’s not exactly stable up here.”

The villain moves into position without complaint, the blanket stretched out in their arms. The hero doesn’t get to check them before Dusty’s making another goddamn swipe. Dogs, the hero thinks, are so much easier.

The hero nudges closer and the cat’s not having it. She skirts back with another hiss, but the branch is too thin behind her. Her back foot misses its mark, and with a yowl she slips off the branch.

The hero and the villain yelp in tandem. The hero’s too far away to catch her. The villain leaps in, blanket brandished like a shield, and Dusty flops into it like a furious sun sucked into a silky black hole.

The hero’s never been so happy to get out of a tree. By the time they’re on solid ground again the villain’s swaddled Dusty in the blanket, her face poking out of the top, clearly very comfortable in the villain’s arms.

She notices the hero approaching before the villain. She turns her gaze to them and, without a care for what just happened, gives them one last hiss.

The villain laughs. “She has her morals in line, at least.”

“She’s just like you.” The hero rolls their eyes in mock offence. “Though she’s too nice to you to be called Dusty.”

“Oh, she’s not Dusty technically,” the villain says matter-of-factly. “It’s short for Feather Duster.”

The hero blinks at them. They’re not convinced that’s any better.

“Because she’s so fluffy she looks like a feather duster,” the villain continues, “and because I need one to clean up after her. She gets fur everywhere.”

The hero finally finds the words to say. “Your cruelty knows no bounds.”

“I know.” The villain grins, nuzzling their nose into the top of Dusty’s head. No, the hero is not calling her Feather Duster. “But she loves me anyway.”

Clearly, from the way she’s purring like a train. “Evil loves company.”

The villain strokes her head for a moment before turning back to the hero with a look they don’t like. “I’ll be honest, [Hero],” they start slowly, “I’m not here next week, and I need a cat sitter to look after—“

“Absolutely not,” the hero cuts in. “This was enough of an experience.”

“Yeah, I suppose.” The villain pulls the blanket back for her face to show a little more. “She is cute though, isn’t she?”

The hero looks down at Dusty. She blinks back at them slowly, already half asleep in the villain’s arms. The hero really hates to admit it, but she is kind of cute. At least when she’s not screaming at them and threatening to rip them to shreds.

But the hero would rather die than give the villain an ego boost. They hold back a knowing smile, and says every pet owner's call to violence: “Nah.”

[2plottwist]

A Fabled End

Summary: You end up with a magical, impossible to decipher book. Before you know it, you and Astarion are literally sucked into the story, having to play your parts in order to escape. The catch? You have to play star-crossed lovers.

Pairing: Astarion x Reader, referred to with she/her pronouns

Characters: Astarion, various made-up fairytale creatures, super brief Gale and Shadowheart appearance

Warnings: absolute tooth-rotting fluff, the f word (scary!)

Author: Emma:)

Word Count: 7.8k

A/N: this is definitely a longer read, but oh my god, do I think it is worth it. This is my favorite thing I have probably ever written. I hope you enjoy it as much as Kenna and I do. (p.s. fan art is appreciated)

Your brows furrowed in confusion as you glanced over the text again. Wyll and Karlach had gone out looking for supplies nearby your camp and had found little to nothing- besides a very large, very magical book. It had been offered to Gale first, who kindly declined to prepare everyone dinner. So it was given to the next best option- you.

After the enormous tiefling plopped it in your hands, you took a second to examine it before revealing its contents. Though it was cast in worn leather, swirls of purple emitted from beneath the cover, beckoning you closer. At first. 

Encoding it had been a rather infuriating task. Every time you looked at it, the tangled mess of runes seemed to change, spelling out some ancient, or made-up, language. No matter how hard you concentrated, the meaning eluded you, as if the book was mocking your attempts.

“Why in the hells could Gale not busy himself with this?” you grumble to yourself, pricking up the pointy ears of one of your nearby companions. 

“Having a hard time, darling?” Astarion drawled, sauntering towards where you were sitting in front of your tent. “I knew you struggled with finding me good bits of reading, but you appear to be illiterate.”

You rolled your eyes at the words despite the fact that your undead companion was probably right. You'd pored over various dusty tomes for years, but you couldn’t make anything out of the book. 

“Hey.. it’s not my fault you don’t appreciate ‘The World According to Bumpo’,” you shot back, referencing the fictitious tale you had brought back to him from the goblin camp. “It’s got layers.. You’ve got to actually use your mind to discover them.”

The vampire let out a dry laugh before lounging on a pillow that was laid against the wall of your tent. “Well, in that case, I guess neither of us know what it’s really about, hmm?”

Though his words were pointed, you recognized the playful lilt of his speech. It was a delicate balance, Astarion’s personality, and you couldn’t tell if it was by design or by accident. 

You groaned, dropping the heavy text in between the two of you. “Before you embarrass yourself by belittling me further, why don’t you have a go?” you say, motioning your hand toward the discarded book. 

“Hmm,” Astarion considers the proposition, tilting his head and smirking. “Alright. I suppose I have nothing else to do during the precious hours I have to myself.” 

He picked up the book, giving it a once-over before carefully flipping through the dry parchment. His brows furrowed, and he muttered something to himself before laughing.

“Oh, this is interesting,” he said casually, as if discussing the weather.

“What? What is?” you ask excitedly, attempting to peer over the cover and see what he was seeing. 

“You really are illiterate, aren’t you?” Astarion continued, shooting you a devilish grin. “There’s text right here, as common as drows in the underdark.” 

You narrowed your eyes, unable to believe what the elf had just told you. You had stared at the book for so long, the indecipherable runes were practically burnt into your eyes. 

“What does it say?” you ask, tilting your head.

“Hmm, well,” Astarion starts before clearing his throat and adjusting his voice to a mockingly low one. “The path to freedom lies in truth. Only when you embrace what you have discovered can you leave this place.” He chuckled again, meeting your gaze. “A bit ominous, isn’t it?”

“You’re full of rubbish,” you shoot back, shaking your head out of frustration. “You can read it, just like that? After I spent all that time trying to decipher it?”

Astarion grinned, clearly enjoying the surprise on your face. “What, you don’t think I have any skills beyond my charming wit and dashing good looks?” 

You cross your arms, looks mirroring the dejection you felt within yourself. 

“I assure you, darling, I’m not making it up. But, if you’re still so inclined to doubt me, why don’t you come and see for yourself?”

You frowned at the elf before reaching out to take the book from him, but Astarion didn’t release his hold. Your fingers brushed against each other, and for a moment, the two of you hesitated, locked in a brief standoff. Then, the pages of the tome began to glow with a soft, ethereal light. 

“What in the Hells-” you began but were cut off when the light flared, engulfing both of you. The world around you blurred and twisted sharply, and you were suddenly yanked from your camp with a force that left you breathless. 

When the light finally faded, you found yourself thrown onto a cobble path- right in the middle of a picturesque village, the kind that belonged in a fairy tale.

As you stood, you noticed blooming flowers lining the cobbled roads, their sweet scent filling the air. The roofs were thatched in all colors of shingles. Nearby, a baker had opened his window, the smell of freshly baked bread wafting into the street.

You blink in confusion before realizing you were no longer in your clothes- you were dressed in a flowing, ethereal gown that shimmered like starlight. Beside you, Astarion looked equally stunned, his usual dark attire replaced with a fine, tailored getup that made him look every bit the nobleman.

He glanced around, then down at the book, which was still in his hand, now glowing with a faint, pulsing light. 

“Well,” he mused, his tone a mix of amusement and annoyance. “It appears we’ve been… transported.”

You shot him a look, your frustration bubbling up again. “Transported? Where? Was it the book?”

Astarion held the suspect up, smirking. “Hmm. It seems our little tug-of-war triggered some sort of enchantment.”

Before you could respond, the two of you were approached by a plump woman, her bright pink cheeks and exaggeratedly twinkling eyes making her look like a character from a children’s story. 

“Oh, my darlings!” the woman exclaimed, her voice as melodious as a jingle. “You two are just the most perfect couple I’ve ever seen!” 

Before you could protest, she was pushing you towards an intricately decorated cottage at the edge of the village. A sign hung above the door; it depicted two cartoonish dragons curving into a heart. Below it, you could make out “Enchanted Encounters by Madame Delphine” in a deep purple, delicate handwriting.

With a flourish, she gestured at the building. It was just as cartoonish as the sign, if not more, with its heart-shaped windows, a thatched roof adorned with twinkling lights, and a garden bursting with oversized, colorful roses.  

“Welcome, welcome to Enchanted Encounters, where love is our specialty!”

As she ushered you deeper inside, the air was filled with the scent of lavender and roses, and the walls were lined with love-themed trinkets and framed, exaggeratedly romantic artwork. Despite the overwhelming theme, the atmosphere was warm and inviting. Soft, fluffy cushions and plush armchairs were scattered around, and a fireplace crackled.

The woman motioned for you and Astarion to sit. You exchanged a wary glance with Astarion before he gestured to an armchair. “Ladies first,” he purred, flashing you a devilish smirk. 

The woman plopped down into a chair opposite you. “I have so much to tell you! First things first-”

“Now wait just a second,” you interrupted, shifting uncomfortably in your dress. 

“What in the hells is going on? Who are you?”

The woman smiled softly, the expression on her face as if you had just asked her the most mundane question.

“I am Madame Delphine, matchmaker extraordinaire! And you, my lovelies, are here to discover the magic of true love.”

Astarion raised an eyebrow, glancing around the room with a mix of curiosity and skepticism. “We’ve been trapped in a book, for the gods sakes. You know that, don’t you?”

Madame Delphine’s eyes widened with a touch of drama, as if she had known all along. “Ah, that’s the crux of the matter! The village of Fable’s End is a place where destinies intertwine. The magic here seeks out those who are at a crossroads, those who might benefit from a little extra push in discovering their true feelings,” she mimed pushing the air as to add emphasis. 

“Well, that’s just lovely, but we had important matters to attend to,” Astarion retorted, motioning to his head. 

Madame Delphine chuckled softly, her laugh a melodious sound that seemed to resonate with the whimsical surroundings. “But that’s just it! The magic doesn’t always wait for the perfect timing. You see, the enchantment isn’t about disrupting your lives but about giving you a unique opportunity to reflect.. And connect,” she added, wiggling her eyebrows in a suggestive manner. 

“Madame Delphine,” you start, your tone firm but respectful, “you’ve made a mistake. You brought us here under the impression that we are lovers. But that’s simply not true. We are not in love.”

Astarion, his arms crossed, added, “Oh, indeed. This whole scenario feels rather contrived.”

Madame Delphine’s eyes softened with a mix of sympathy and understanding. “I see. Well, if you truly believe that, then perhaps it’s best to explore what the village has in store for you with open minds and hearts. The journey might reveal more than you expect.”

As Madame Delphine spoke, an unexpected, shimmering light began to swirl around you and Astarion. The colors shifted, and the cottage’s walls seemed to dissolve into an ethereal mist. The light took on the shape of a heart, and the air was filled with a gentle, melodious hum.

You and Astarion exchanged puzzled glances as the enchantment’s glow enveloped you. Suddenly, scenes from your past adventures began to play out around you, projected in vivid, heartwarming detail.

You saw shared glances, instances of unspoken support and subtle gestures of care. The images revealed how your bond had deepened over time, showing you moments that had seemed insignificant but were actually filled with unspoken affection.

The scenes began to shift to more intimate moments. You saw yourselves laughing together by the campfire, comforting each other after a battle, and sharing quiet conversations. 

When the light finally faded, Astarion’s eyes met yours, his usual aloofness softened by a vulnerable gaze. “I didn’t realize… We’ve been through so much together, haven’t we?”

Your cheeks flushed with a blend of surprise and embarrassment, and you nodded slowly. “Yes, we have. And when I think back on everything…”

Madame Delphine, who had been quietly observing, smiled warmly. “Sometimes, it takes a little magic to help us see what’s been there all along. Your journey here has allowed you to confront your true feelings and understand them more deeply.”

You stared at each other for a moment longer before the matchmaker interrupted your thoughts.

“Now, let’s get down to the nitty-gritty, shall we? You see, my dears, this isn’t just a simple matchmaking service. This is a story, and every story has its rules.”

You raise an eyebrow, your curiosity piqued. “Rules? What kind of rules?”

Madame Delphine leaned forward, her eyes sparkling with a mischievous glint. “You’re not the first couple to find yourselves in this delightful predicament. This village, and indeed, my matchmaking services, have seen many a pair before you.”

Astarion looked intrigued, his usual smirk replaced by genuine interest. “What happened to them?”

“Ah, well,” Madame Delphine said, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, “some found true love, others simply discovered something about themselves they never knew. But all of them played their parts—quite literally. You see, in this story, you must embrace your roles as lovers. The more convincingly you play your parts, the closer you’ll come to breaking the enchantment.”

You frown slightly. “And if we refuse to play along?”

Madame Delphine’s face became somber, though her cartoonish eyes still held a glimmer of mischief. “Oh, I wouldn’t recommend that. The enchantment is quite persistent, and resisting only prolongs the tale.”

Astarion leaned back in his chair, a thoughtful expression on his face. “And what exactly are these roles we’re supposed to play?”

Madame Delphine clapped her hands together, her cheery demeanor returning. “Oh, nothing too difficult! Simply be the star-crossed lovers you’re meant to be. The village will do the rest, guiding you through various trials and encounters. Just remember, the more authentic your feelings, the smoother the journey.”

You glance at Astarion. “Well, it seems we don’t have much choice.”

Astarion, with a dramatic sigh, offered her a small smile. “I suppose so. I do love a good drama.”

Madame Delphine clapped her hands with delight. “Splendid! Now, off you go, darlings. The story awaits, and I’m sure it will be a most enchanting one!”

The two of you stood, walking out of the cottage. As the door closed behind you, you sank to your knees, head in your hands. “Gods, why is there never any fine print on enchanted objects?”

Astarion, standing beside you with an amused smirk, glanced over. “And here I thought you liked surprises, darling. Isn’t this all just a bit of unexpected fun?”

You shot him a look, your tone dripping with sarcasm. “Oh yes, so much fun. Being trapped in a magical book, forced to play the part of lovers—absolute delight.”

Your bickering was abruptly interrupted by a clanging sound and the appearance of a rather comical figure. 

A paladin, clad in ridiculously oversized armor that made him look like a walking castle, emerged from behind a heart-shaped archway. His helmet was so large that it wobbled precariously with every step he took, and his lance looked more like a toothpick in his gloved hands. 

“Ho there, fair maiden afar! A beautiful thing, a shining star!” he shouted, voice vibrating throughout his suit of armor. “How I cherish Lathander, my guiding light, for blessing me with such a sight.”

“Is he.. Rhyming?” You questioned, sharing a quizzical look with your companion. 

“I think one weirdo is enough to deal with today,” Astarion stated before pushing on your waist, ushering you to walk away. 

“Halt, pale fellow! Leave her be, so kind, so mellow,” the knight declared with exaggerated bravado, his voice echoing through his oversized helmet. 

Astarion raised an eyebrow, turning back to the paladin. “Oh, and who are you to address this.. Maiden?” he asked.

“I am Lord Reginald, in the flesh. And her heart.. With mine, I’d like to mesh.” 

Astarion’s wariness gave way to amusement. “Her? Are you sure? She’s rather unpleasant in the morning.”

You reach out and hit him on the arm. 

“You dare insult her, a rose, a petal?” Lord Reginald boomed back, attempting to lift his helm from his eyes. It clanked back into place. “For your sake, sir, I hope you have the mettle.”

“Are you threatening me now, Lord?” Astarion shot back, then turned to you. “I’m growing rather bored.” Realizing he had unintentionally rhymed, he muttered “Shit” under his breath.

“A duel it will be then, for the lady’s heart!” Lord Reginald said, raising his lance. “Come forth then, sparrow fart!” 

Astarion narrowed his eyes, shooting the lord a steely look. “Sparrowfa-” you hit his arm again, a laugh threatening to spill out of your mouth. “Alright then, a duel, you say? And what weapon do you propose we use, lordling?”

Lord Reginald puffed out his chest, though it seemed more a result of his armor's bulk than his own physical prowess. “Not with swords, not with steel! We shall engage in a battle of words in which the lady must feel!”

You, caught between laughter and astonishment, looked at Astarion with a teasing grin. “I think he wants to duel it out over.. Romantic poetry. Seems like you may have a rather shit hand.”

“Perish the thought,” Astarion said. ��How could I refuse such a challenge?”

He smirked, stepping forward with a flourish. “I suppose if it’s a duel of words, I should rise to the occasion.”

Lord Reginald straightened his oversized helmet with a flourish. “Let us begin the duel of melodies and verses, for the heart of the lovely Y/N calls me across universes.” 

The knight stepped back and cleared his throat, preparing for his performance. He launched into a grandiose ballad with exaggerated gestures and a booming voice:

“From distant lands, both far and wide,

I’ve ventured forth with armor’s pride.

To win the heart of one so rare,

I sing my love with tender care.”

You smiled at the heartfelt, if not somewhat over-the-top, performance. 

When Lord Reginald finished his verse with a flourish, he took a deep, exaggerated bow, his armor clanking with every movement. “My heart, my weapon. My words, my shield. Now, pale one.. Do you yield?”

Astarion stepped forward, his demeanor calm and confident. With a playful glint in his eye, he began.

“Beneath the moon’s enchanting light, In shadowed depths, where stars ignite, Our journey’s path has led us here, With every step, my heart grows clear.”

His verses felt tender and sincere, and you blushed as he took a bow, looking at you with a smirk as he did so. The village seemed to respond to his melody with a soft, shimmering light. 

“You think that’s all? I’m not impressed,” Lord Reginald boomed. “Let’s see if you can handle this new test.”

He cleared his throat again before continuing. 

“In twilight’s glow and morning’s dew,

My heart beats only, dear, for you.

Your laughter rings like sweetest chime,

A melody that transcends time.”

You raised your eyebrow at the lord before looking back at Astarion, who seemed unimpressed. “That one was pretty solid, Star. I’m not sure if you can do better than “a melody that transcends time.”

Astarion huffed before turning back to the knight. 

“Through battles fierce and nights so long,

It’s with you, Y/N, where I belong.

In every glance and every sigh,

You’re the reason why I fly.”

As Astarion finished his verse and took another bow, you looked at him with admiration. Lord Reginald gave a respectful nod.

“Your performance was most admirable, Astarion,” Lord Reginald said, his voice filled with respect, and thankfully, no more rhymes. “I concede that the heart of the fair Y/N is yours, though I shall continue to admire her from afar.”

You stepped forward, your eyes sparkling with appreciation. “Thank you, Lord Reginald. That was quite an entertaining duel.” 

Without another rhyme, Lord Reginald turned, clanking down the path and out of the village.

The two of you watched him walk away for a moment before you turned to him, smirking. “The reason that you fly, eh?”

Astarion frowned, facing you. “Oh, don’t you dare. Did you see what I was up against? The bastard was, unfortunately, rather well-spoken, if not annoying. Like Gale,” he spat.

You laugh. “I’m just teasing you. Your ballad was quite charming.”

He rolled his eyes, smirking. “Well, you weren’t exactly against embracing your role as a muse.”

Your exchange was interrupted by a burst of joyful laughter and the sound of rustling leaves. In the center of the village square stood an enormous, exuberant tree. Its branches swayed with an upbeat rhythm, and its bark seemed to be drawn on. The tree had eyes, large and twinkling with excitement, that were set in knots in the wood. 

“Oh, oh! They’re coming!” the tree’s voice rang out in a sing-song tone. “Hey, over here! It’s Arboris! I’m a talking tree!”

You looked at each other, brows furrowed, before approaching the odd sight. 

“Hello, there! I’m Arboris!” the tree repeated, looking at the two of you expectantly. You hesitated before giving it your names. “Hello, Arboris. I’m Y/N, and this is Astarion.”

The tree’s branches shook again. “Oh, I am so absolutely thrilled to meet you! Yes, I am! What fun we shall have!” 

You crossed your arms. “Gods, please don’t burst out into rhymes,” Astarion quipped under his breath. 

“To continue your delightful journey, you must solve my riddles. Oh, but you two are such pleasant company, I almost don’t want to tell them to you! Oh, what a dilemma!” they cried, casting their eyes to the ground. 

You and Astarion exchanged another glance- you’d hardly said a thing. In fact, the pair of you likely came off as stand-offish. Pleasant company wasn’t the first thing that came to your mind. 

“Riddles, you say?” he asked, his tone curious. 

Arboris clapped their branches together in delight, shaking deep green leaves onto the ground, seemingly forgetting about being upset. 

“Oh, yes, yes! And with such a splendid theme at that! I’m positively giddy! Here comes the first one!”

They continued clapping for a moment longer before they stilled completely, eyes turning a deep shade of purple. In an ominous voice, they declared:

“I am a bond that binds hearts tight, 

A feeling that makes everything right.

I’m often whispered, sometimes declared,

In moments of joy or when hearts are bared.

What am I?”

Arboris began waving again happily, as if nothing had changed about them. “Come on, come on, what is it?” they squealed. 

You turn to Astarion as you contemplate the riddle. 

“Do you think they ever run out of rhymes here?” he groaned.

You ignored him. “Let’s see.. If I was the optimistic type.. Hmm. It sounds like ‘love’ itself!”

Astarion nodded, grinning. “Yes, it has to be love.”

With a smile, you spoke aloud, “The answer is love!”

Arboris became even more animated, branches swaying in a celebratory dance. “Brilliant! Oh, how wonderful! You’re so clever! Now, onto the second riddle!”

They grew still again, eyes turning the same shade of purple:

“I am a gesture that’s sweet and dear, Often given when loved ones are near. I can be soft or full of fire, I’m a sign of affection and desire. What am I?”

Astarion’s face lit up with recognition. “Why, it’s a kiss!”

You nod in agreement. “Yes, it’s definitely a kiss.”

You answer in unison, “A kiss!”

Arboris practically danced with joy, their branches moving in a jubilant swirl. “Oh, how splendid! You’re doing marvelously! I can hardly believe it! Now for the final riddle!”

The tree stilled once more:

“I am a bond that ties two hearts, A connection that never departs. Though time may pass and distance grow, Our feelings for each other always show. What am I?”

You and Astarion looked at each other. After a moment, you speak up with a smile.

“It’s a promise. It’s the bond between hearts that remains strong.. despite time and distance.”

Astarion nodded in agreement. “Yes, it’s definitely a promise.”

Arboris’ branches erupted in a cascade of sparkling leaves and squealed. “Bravo! Oh goodness me! You’ve answered all my riddles with such flair and insight! What a delightful pair you are indeed!” 

The two of you smiled at each other, despite the barrage of rhymes. 

“Oh, carry on now, on your adventure! But do remember our time together, when you met Arboris, the talking tree!” They waved a branch at you in goodbye. 

You and Astarion turned and walked down another cobbled path, laughing to yourselves about the encounter. 

“That creature was something else, wasn’t it?” Astarion remarked, a smirk tugging at his lips. “I think Arboris might have been a bit too cheerful for my taste.”

You chuckle. “You know, I think Arboris and Halsin would get along famously. Imagine the two of them together- enjoying the freedom of nature’s gifts,” you said, mocking your druid companion’s deep tone. 

Astarion let out a sharp laugh, before mocking the tree. “Oh, Halsin, pick my leaves! And Halsin would be like, 'very well, if the Oakfather sees fit'.”

The two of you laughed, shaking your head. Turning a corner, a grand mansion adorned with opulent decorations came into view. It was certainly out of place in the sleepy village; the mansion’s splendor was undeniable, with intricate carvings and luxurious tapestries giving it an air of aristocracy. 

Standing at the entrance was a striking noblewoman. Her gown, a flowing ensemble of crimson and gold, was adorned with sparkling jewels that caught the light with every subtle movement. 

The woman spotted the two of you, and her eyes lit up with an unmistakable glint of interest. Her gaze lingered on Astarion. 

“Well, well! What a delightful surprise!” the woman exclaimed, her voice rich and melodious. “I am Lady Seraphina, and I must say, it is a pleasure to meet such.. Intriguing individuals.”

Astarion, ever the epitome of charm, inclined his head in polite greeting. “The pleasure is all ours, Lady Seraphina. I am Astarion, and this is Y/N.”

You offered a courteous nod, but you couldn’t help but feel a twinge of discomfort as Lady Seraphina’s gaze became increasingly fixed on Astarion. The noblewoman’s approach was not merely cordial; it was laden with flirtation. 

“Ah, Astarion,” Lady Seraphina purred, her voice dripping with exaggerated affection. “You’re quite the striking adventurer, aren’t you? I’d love to hear more about your travels. Perhaps you’d care to join me for a private chat inside? I’m sure we could find many… fascinating topics to discuss.”

As she spoke, Lady Seraphina’s hand brushed against Astarion’s arm, lingering a moment longer than necessary. Her eyes were wide with an artful blend of admiration and seduction. For you, the sight was a jarring contrast to the polite distance you were accustomed to. Your heart raced with a blend of irritation and something deeper- an emotion you hadn’t expected to feel so intensely.

You had always prided yourself on your composure and self-control. Yet seeing Lady Seraphina made your chest tighten with a pang of jealousy. The way her eyes sparkled as she looked at Astarion, the subtle but unmistakable way she attempted to draw him away from you- it all seemed to chip away at your usually steadfast resolve. 

You had been trying to ignore the way Astarion’s charm seemed to attract attention from all quarters, but this was different. The noblewoman’s words were brazen and direct, and the unspoken challenge was impossible to miss. You felt a surge of uncharacteristic possessiveness; it was clear Lady Seraphina was trying to seduce Astarion, and the sight stung. 

Taking a deep breath, you stepped forward. “Lady Seraphina, while your offer is generous, Astarion and I have our own plans. We prefer to explore the village together.”

Your tone was steady, but there was an edge to your words that surprised even you. Lady Seraphina’s eyes widened slightly, her practiced charm faltering for a moment as she processed your unexpected intervention. 

“Oh?” she replied, her voice carrying a note of barely concealed irritation. “It’ll only be a moment, I’m sure.” 

You look at your companion who seemed to be smitten with the fact he was being flirted with. He glanced at you, devilish smirk gracing his features. You felt a tug from the tadpole burrowed in your head.

‘Just playing my part.. Like you did so graciously with Lord Reginald.’

With that, the lady tugged him into the mansion, the loud thud of the wooden doors closing in front of you making you jump.

“You bastard!” you shouted, hoping he could hear you despite the thickness of the door. 

You shake your head before becoming lost in thought. ‘Is he trying to make me.. Jealous?’ you thought to yourself. Because dammit all, it was working. 

What in the hells had come over you? When Madame Delphine had forced you to reflect on your relationship with the vampire, you realized something that you had tried to suppress deep down. With the weight of the entire realm on your shoulders, feeling anything for anyone was selfish, would deter you from the task.

Oh, but the way Astarion made you feel. He made you feel alive. Like you could do anything, be anything. And you could only hope you made him feel the same way.

After a minute or two, you couldn’t help but be drawn back to reality, or whatever it was, by the heaviness of the situation. You had to go get Astarion.

You pushed the door open quietly and stepped in, being greeted by an equally lavish hallway. What appeared to be hundreds of other hallways branched off of it, all lined with doors. 

“Oh, hells,” you murmured to yourself. You took off down one hallway, picking up the ends of your dress to ensure you didn’t trip over it. Slowly, you had managed to make your way down the entire branch, pressing an ear to each door and hearing nothing. 

Feeling defeated, you turned to walk back down to the main hallway, when suddenly, a shrill scream rang out. A door burst open, and there Astarion stood, gasping for breath. He caught your eye in an instant. 

“Oh gods, Y/N, you have to hear this- Lady Seraphina was trying to-” His eyes were wide, and his cheeks slightly flushed as he struggled to find the right words. “I didn’t think she would actually, well, you know..” You stared at him in confusion, and right before the realization dawned, Astarion shouted it out.

“Gods, Y/N, she was trying to fuck me!”

“Are you always this stupid, or are you making a special effort to torment me?” you shot back. “I could’ve told you that at the front door!”

You couldn’t help but burst into laughter at the sight of the visibly flustered vampire. He rolled his eyes as you reached your arm out to him. He linked his in yours, and the two of you began to run out of the mansion. You leaned in, your laughter mingling with his as you navigated the lavish hallways.  

As you exited the mansion, Astarion leaned against the door, finally having a moment to catch his breath. 

“Now, before you say anything,” he panted, “I didn’t go in with the intention of that happening.” You placed a hand on your hip. “Oh? And what intention did you go in with? Playing a friendly game of lanceboard and having a glass of wine?”

He glanced sideways at you, and hesitated. For a moment you thought he wasn’t going to speak at all, but then he continued. “I thought it might be a bit… amusing to see if I could make you a little jealous.”

You raised an eyebrow, a sense of relief washing over you. “And what in the hells made you think that was a good idea?”

Astarion shrugged. “Well.. you made me endure Lord Reginald’s attempts to make you swoon. I thought I might return the favor with a little.. Strategic distraction.” You laugh. “That’s rather bold of you.”

Astarion’s lips curved into a grin, exposing his pearly fangs. “Ah, but there’s something rather intriguing about seeing you flustered. And I must say, it worked better than I expected.”

Just as you went to respond, Madame Delphine appeared, her arrival marked by a swirl of colorful mist and an air of dramatic flair. She had changed into an extravagant gown of deep purple and red, and her face was covered by a mask resembling a cat.

“Voila!” she stated, twirling around before meeting the expectant gaze of you and Astarion. “Impressive, hmm? Weren’t expecting that, were you? Then again, you two have done all sorts of things I haven’t expected.” She paused for a second and looked at Astarion. “Lovely rhymes, by the way.”

Astarion scoffed as she pulled out a letter from her corset. “Why does everyone act so surprised by that?”

Madame Delphine gingerly handed you the parchment. “I have a final challenge for you- one that is both grand and delightful.”

Astarion turned to face her fully. “And what might that be?”

Madame Delphine’s smile widened as you opened the letter. “You are cordially invited to the Enchanted Revelry! Oh, it will be a wonderful time. It will be the final challenge of your journey here in Fable’s End. A chance to showcase not just your charming features, but your true feelings for one another in the most enchanting of settings.”

“The- what?” you ask, tilting your head.

“Why, a masquerade ball, lovey! Simply attend, I’ll do the rest. I’ll be just like your Faerie Godmother, eh?”

Astarion raised an eyebrow and turned to you. “Well, it seems we’re in for quite the evening.”

You grinned, nudging him playfully. “I’m sure the revelry will be just the thing to top off our adventure. I mean, we’ve already faced the barrage of ballads- a ball should be a piece of cake.”

Madame Delphine clapped her hands together with glee. “Excellent! I shall see you both at the ball.” In her usual burst of theatrical flair, she conjured a majestic castle right before your eyes. The building seemed to rise from the very heart of the village, its walls sparkling. 

With a final, enthusiastic wave, she disappeared.

The grand entrance of the castle loomed before you, adorned with cascading banners and glittering lights. From beyond the doors, you could hear elegant music playing, and the scent of delectable treats wafted through open windows. You couldn’t help but feel excited- despite your predicament, whether it was inside a book or out in the real realm, attempting to keep mind flayers at bay, you were still a girl, enchanted by dancing and big dresses. 

As you entered the castle, the doors closed behind you with a soft, resonant thud. The ballroom was an exquisite spectacle, with crystal chandeliers casting a soft glow over an elaborate dance floor. Couples swirled elegantly in their masks and gowns, their laughter mingling with the melodious strains of the distant orchestra.

However, as you and Astarion stepped into the ballroom, you were separated by an unexpected enchantment. A gust of wind swept through the hall, and you found yourself alone on one side of the grand space. 

“Wait!” you called out, your voice tinged with urgency. “Astarion!”

But your call was swallowed by the crowd, and Astarion was soon lost among the masked revelers. Frustration and concern mingled in your chest as you scanned the ballroom, trying to catch a glimpse of him.

As you struggled to find your way through the throng of masked guests, Madame Delphine appeared beside you once again. With a wave of her wand, she conjured a resplendent gown for you.

The gown shimmered with hues of deep emerald and silver, its fabric flowing like liquid moonlight. Accompanying the gown was an intricately designed mask, shaped like a graceful fox with delicate filigree patterns.

“There you are!” Madame Delphine said, her voice filled with delight. “You look enchanting! Now, to find Astarion, you must let your heart guide you.”

Before you could respond, Madame Delphine vanished in a swirl of sparkling mist, leaving you alone in your magnificent new attire. Taking a deep breath, you steeled yourself and stepped into the ballroom.

The grandeur of the castle was breathtaking, with its high ceilings and sweeping staircases leading to ornate balconies. The guests, all adorned in their own elaborate masks and gowns, danced and mingled beneath the glittering chandeliers. You felt a mixture of excitement and trepidation as you moved through the crowd, your eyes scanning each masked gentleman with hopeful anticipation.

Every masked face you encountered seemed to carry an air of mystery, and the enchantment of the night made it difficult to distinguish one from another. Despite your frustration, you found yourself caught up in the rhythm of the event, letting the music and the atmosphere guide you.

On the other side of the ballroom, Astarion wandered about, half blinded by his own mask. The dance floor was a swirling sea of masked figures, their costumes and masks creating a kaleidoscope of colors and shapes. To the casual observer, Astarion might have seemed like just another guest, but his every movement betrayed a focused intent. His eyes, sharp and alert, scanned the crowd with a keen determination. This hunt was different from any he had known before—it was not for prey, but for the one person who had captured his heart.

Astarion’s movements were smooth and calculated, each step and turn a testament to his skill in navigating both physical and social landscapes. He slipped through the crowd with the ease of a shadow, his gaze shifting and darting as he searched for you. The ballroom's ambiance—the swirling music, the laughter, and the gentle clinking of glasses—seemed to fade into the background as he honed in on his target.

His mind raced with thoughts of you, each memory a vivid reminder of why this search was so crucial. You, with your grace and warmth, had become the center of his world. The way you moved, the way you spoke, and even the way you challenged him—it was all part of what drew him to you. This hunt was driven by an emotional urgency, a longing to find you and be with you.

The thrill of the hunt, so familiar to him, was now tinged with a new, profound significance. It was no longer the thrill of the chase for its own sake, but rather the pursuit of something far more precious. Each masked face he passed seemed to blend into the next, a sea of anonymity that only heightened his determination. His heart pounded not just with the excitement of the chase, but with a deeper, more intimate anticipation.

He maneuvered through the crowd, his senses attuned to every subtle shift in the atmosphere. Astarion's eyes, narrowed in focus, finally caught sight of a familiar figure amidst the revelry. His heart quickened as he recognized your elegant silhouette, your back turned to him.

As he approached you, the world seemed to narrow to just the space between you. The masks and costumes of the other guests fell away, leaving only you in his field of vision. He moved with a purposeful elegance, closing the distance with a sense of anticipation that was both thrilling and a bit terrifying.

You spun around, seeing Astarion standing several paces away. Behind his mask, his gaze locked onto yours with an intensity that spoke of both relief and adoration.

Astarion, with his predatory grace now softened by his genuine feelings, bowed before reaching out and offering a hand. The search had led him to the person he had come to love, and the fulfillment of that pursuit was more satisfying than he could have ever imagined.

As the music shifted to a softer, more melodic tune, the ballroom seemed to clear slightly, allowing you and Astarion to draw closer. For a moment, time seemed to stand still. You hurried towards each other, weaving through the remaining dancers.

Finally, you met in the center of the ballroom, where the music swelled, filling the space with a sweeping, romantic melody. Astarion’s eyes were alight with joy as he took your hands in his.

“There you are,” he said softly. “I was beginning to think I’d never find you.”

You smiled, your eyes shining as you looked up at him. “I was searching for you, too. However, I knew I would find you.”

The orchestra’s music swirled around you, and as if by design, the dancers around you fell away, leaving you and Astarion alone in your own world. Astarion held you close, his hands resting gently on your waist as he guided you through the dance. 

Your heart was racing. The way Astarion’s gaze lingered on you, the warmth of his touch, and the rhythm of your dance all combined to create a profound sense of connection. You felt as if the entire evening had led to this singular, perfect moment.

As the waltz reached its crescendo, the dance seemed to slow, drawing you closer. The music swirled around you, and as you moved together in the final, lingering steps, your faces drew near. Gently, Astarion pulled up his mask, then yours. You could feel his cool breath fanning against your face. 

“Well, my dear,” he began, voice barely above a whisper. “It seems we’ve survived this.. Masquerade of madness. But before the curtain falls on our little performance, there’s one last thing I’d like to do. 

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued by the intimacy of the moment. By him. “Oh? And what might that be?”

“I was wondering… since we’ve managed to breeze our way through every other challenge, would it be terribly forward of me to ask if I might kiss you?”

You felt your heart skip a beat at his words, but you quickly regained your composure, matching his playful tone. “Terribly forward? Perhaps,” you replied with a smirk, “but then again, when has that ever stopped you?”

Astarion chuckled softly. “Touché. But I’d rather not assume. After all, I’ve been trying to behave myself… most of the time.”

You tilted your head slightly, your smile softening as you looked at him. “Well, since you’ve been so well-behaved, I suppose I can grant you this one request.”

Astarion’s expression shifted, a mixture of genuine affection and delight replacing the earlier teasing. “In that case, I shall take this rare opportunity and make the most of it.”

With a gentleness that belied his usual bravado, Astarion leaned in and pressed his lips to yours in a tender, lingering kiss. It was a kiss filled with unspoken words and emotions that had been building between them for so long. It was a revelation, a silent admission of everything you had been too guarded or too afraid to say. His hand, cold and steady, cradled the back of your neck, drawing you even closer. 

As you slowly pulled away, the lingering sensation of the kiss remained, a sweet ache that left both of you breathless. Your foreheads pressed together, and the quiet after the kiss was filled with a newfound understanding. It was as if the kiss had woven a thread between your hearts, something strong and unbreakable, a promise of what was to come. “Thank you, Y/N. For the dance, for the adventure… and for this.”

You smiled, your heart full as you looked into his eyes. “The pleasure was mine, Astarion.”

Before you could fully savor the moment, a sudden shift in the air signaled a change.

The grand ballroom began to dissolve around you, the enchanting lights and sounds fading away. As you felt yourselves being transported back to your world, the figures of Madame Delphine, Arboris, Lady Seraphina, and Lord Reginald became visible once more. 

Madame Delphine waved energetically, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “Farewell, my dear adventurers! Until our paths cross again!”

Arboris, despite being clearly uprooted, was placed on a velvet chaise lounge, a tablecloth draped over them. They gave a jovial wave, their branches and leaves rustling with the movement. “Bye bye, dear friends! Oh, do be good!”

Lady Seraphina, now dressed in an elegant gown that matched her haughty demeanor, offered a graceful nod. Though her expression was one of polite interest rather than warmth, there was a hint of amusement in her eyes. “It seems you managed quite well… despite our little disagreement.”

Lord Reginald, wearing an oversized blazer, gave a flourish with his lance, his voice carrying a hint of good-natured pride. “Bravo! Your performance was most impressive. Until we meet, I���ll hope you’ll be-” he turned to Lady Seraphina. “Damn it all! What rhymes with impressive?”

With a final burst of magical light, you found yourselves back in your own world, sitting right where you had first touched the book. Gale was the first thing you saw, his hand waving in front of your face with a look of mild concern. 

“Ah, there you are! Welcome back to the land of the living,” he said, his voice tinged with relief. “You’ve been out for over an hour. We were starting to get worried.”

Before either of you could respond, Shadowheart’s voice echoed from within her tent. “Hold on, Gale! I finally found the spell!”

Gale waved a hand dismissively in the direction of Shadowheart's tent, clearly more interested in ensuring you and Astarion were alright. But Astarion, with a rare, contented smile, simply waved him off. “We’re fine, Gale. We just… had a bit of an adventure.”

Gale raised an eyebrow, clearly curious but perhaps wisely choosing not to pry. “Well, as long as you’re both alright,” he said, stepping back to give you some space. With a final glance between the two of you, he turned and walked away, leaving you and Astarion alone.

You sat there in the fading light, the camp bustling quietly around you, but it all seemed distant, unimportant. What mattered now was the shared experience that had shifted something fundamental between you. Astarion’s hand still held yours, and as he looked at you, his usual teasing smirk softened into something more sincere.

“Y/N,” he began, his voice low and thoughtful, “I know we’ve been through a lot together, but what we just experienced… it felt different, didn’t it?”

You nodded, your eyes meeting his with a mix of understanding and affection. “It did. It was like everything we’ve been avoiding or denying just came to the surface. And now… now I can’t imagine not having you in my life.”

Astarion’s grip on your hand tightened slightly, as if anchoring himself to the moment. “I feel the same. I’ve spent so long not trusting, not letting anyone get too close… but with you, it’s different. I don’t know what the future holds, but I do know one thing—I want you in it. I want to be a part of your life, whatever that looks like.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and you smiled, a soft, genuine smile that reached your eyes. “I want that too, Astarion. Whatever happens, we’ll face it together.”

As if drawn together by an invisible force, you leaned in, sharing a kiss that was both a reaffirmation of your bond and a vow for the future. This kiss was slower, more deliberate, filled with the understanding that you were stepping into something new, something lasting.

When you finally pulled apart, the world around you came back into focus. The camp, the fire, the distant sounds of your companions—it was all still there, but now it felt different, brighter, as if the future you had just spoken of was already beginning to unfold.

You leaned your head on Astarion's shoulder, a small smile playing on your lips. “You know,” you murmured, “I think we make a pretty good team, even when we’re thrown into ridiculous situations.”

Astarion chuckled, gently resting his cheek against the top of your head. “Ridiculous is an understatement, my dear. But yes, I suppose we do make a rather formidable duo, don’t we?”

You nodded, your smile growing as you closed your eyes, savoring the closeness between you. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“Neither would I,” he whispered.

You sat there in silence, the night wrapping around you like a cozy blanket. And as Astarion glanced over at Gale, a mischievous glint in his eyes, he couldn’t help but add, “But I really do look forward to calling him Lord Reginald.”

You burst into a fit of giggles, and Astarion grinned, his heart lighter than it had been in centuries. The adventure was far from over, but for now, you had found something even more precious—each other.

[kaykebitez]

Arcane Arousals (Rolan x F!Reader)

Rating: Explicit Category: F/M Pairing: Rolan/Tav; Rolan/Female Reader Status: Complete Chapters: 1 Word Count: 6,838

Tags:

POV Second Person, Unnamed Tav (Baldur's Gate), Wizard Tav (Baldur's Gate), Location: Sorcerous Sundries (Baldur's Gate), Female Tav (Baldur's Gate), Tav is Not Described (Baldur's Gate), Banter, Mutual Pining, Teasing, Inappropriate Use of Telekinesis, Vaginal Sex, Clothed Sex, Desperation, Sloppy Makeouts, reader is a shit, Wizard Banter, You Tease Rolan Until He Snaps, Feral Rolan, But Still Kinda Submissive, Shameless Smut

Summary:

You're an accomplished wizard and in the wake of the Netherbrain's defeat, the hero of Baldur's Gate. In the aftermath of the mindflayer invasion, you move into Ramazith's Tower with Rolan, technically taking on the role of his 'apprentice', even though you have several years of teaching experience under your belt at Blackstaff, pre-tadpole. Rolan is insufferable, prickly, and very obviously into you, but he hasn't made a single move towards you, and it's starting to drive you just as crazy as his ego is.

So, one day, after taking verbal potshots at each other that wind up with Rolan giving a demonstration of a new spell he's learned... you decide to test his concentration. By any means necessary.

You also want to see just how far you can push the bratty wizard until he snaps.

AKA: You (Tav) tease Rolan until he can't take it anymore and you fuck on the floor. That's it. That's the fic.

READ ON AO3

Snippet Below the Cut

“Rolan, for the last time, Spectres & Spectral Weave Incantations belongs in the Evocation section, not in the Necromancy section,” you chide, plucking the tome from the dusty shelf in Ramazith’s library to pass off to one of several mage hands that float animatedly around the room. The noonday sun streams in the stained-glass windows, and sorting books would be a wonderful, relaxing way to spend an afternoon up here, if it weren’t for the insufferably prickly tiefling wizard insistent on mucking up your carefully-curated organization strategy.

Rolan whips his head around from where he was rifling through books on a different shelf, letting out an irritated huff through his nose. “By Vivri Arevi? The necromancer?” he says, the emphasis on the last word reminding you much of how one would speak to a small child. The tone has your hackles raising already, but more than annoyance is the overwhelming desire to put this pompous arse in his place.

“Just because the author was a necromancer doesn’t mean all of her writings are classified as Necromancy,” you say, directing the mage hand to shelve the book in its proper place across the way, watching as Rolan’s honey-gold eyes follow the hand with annoyance. “Honestly, have you even read the thing? You’d know within the first few pages it’s clearly an Evocation text.”

“I don’t know what kind of time you think I have these days,” Rolan says with a scoff. “But between running the shop and re-organizing this disaster Lorroakan left, there’s little time left in the day to pour over obscure texts.”

“Obscure?” You snort, stepping down from the ladder you’ve been perched on to place your feet on the floor. “That’s a second-year text for students at Blackstaff. I think I could recite the prologue forwards and backwards. Honestly, Rolan, as talented as you are you’re remarkably under-read.”

It’s a cheap shot, sure, and Rolan’s tail thrashes as he glares at you. But after everything you’ve been through together, this kind of bantering is normal for the two of you, and you flash him a teasing grin, even if the gleam in your eyes is a little mean.

“Is that any way to speak to your master, Tav?” he shoots back at you, all sharp teeth and smug satisfaction. Oh. You’re playing ball today, alright.

As the de-facto ‘master’ of the tower, that makes you his apprentice. Although it’s more of an in-joke between the two of you rather than a true master-apprentice relationship. You taught at Blackstaff Academy before you were forcibly abducted by mindflayers and infected with a tadpole. Your abilities zapped, you were forced to save Faerun with little more than a first-year’s spell knowledge, and unfortunately, the full scope of your talents haven’t returned in the wake of the netherbrain’s defeat. You couldn’t very well go back to your old life as an instructor at your level, so you stayed in Baldur’s Gate, Rolan graciously offering you a place to stay at the tower in return for saving his and his siblings’ hides multiple times over.

 And so, on paper, you’re technically his apprentice, but it’s in name only. While your spellcasting abilities took a hit thanks to the tadpole, your knowledge certainly didn’t. Considering Rolan is entirely self-taught, you find yourself often teaching him things, when he’s not getting on your nerves or you’re not riling him up, that is. In fact, you’ve both grown as wizards in the last two months of working together, you in power and him in knowledge. It’s been an enjoyable working relationship, to say the least, and his company isn’t bad, either. You almost rather like living at the tower with him and his siblings; it’s less lonely than your solitary teacher’s dormitory back at Blackstaff, that’s for sure.

You eat dinner with him most nights, talking about all things arcane until your food’s gone cold and you’ve both sunk nearly a full bottle of wine. When Rolan isn’t trying to posture, isn’t trying to be the ‘best wizard in the realms’, he’s almost rather charming. You could even consider the two of you close friends.

But that doesn’t mean that Rolan, the bastard, won’t rub in your face that he’s your ‘master’ at any chance he gets.

Which is why it’s now become your hobby to knock this young brat down a few pegs each day.

It’s simply the natural order of things.

[jeankirsteinsgirl]

Omg I’m ovulating and I need Jean right now 🥸could you pls write something about country boy Jean and a shy reader 🙈 I just know he is so charming, low key kinda cocky, and drives a pickup truck 😿😋

Your wish is my command

Save a horse Ride a...

WC: 5.5K (i promise its worth it)

Summary: city girl reader comes home to her family far and sees Cowboy Jean

CW: finger-sucking, cunnilingus, creampie, slut, good girl, princess, sweetheart, Jean has a huge cock, slight dumbification, slight degradation, doggy, spanking. NSFW MDNI 18+!!!

It’s been a few months since you’ve been home but you’ve really been missing the small back-roads town you grew up in. Growing up, generally, no one really left your home town so it was rather unusual for you to take a job in a big city a few hours out. No matter how hard you tried to convince yourself you knew in your soul you longed for the sound of the crickets at night under the full moon, the one diner in town with the absolute best burgers and shakes, the smell of your family’s farm wafting through your open window at night, and how much brighter the stars shined under the wide country sky. 

You missed it more than you cared to admit, so coming back home to work on the farm for two months this summer didn’t sound too bad. Your mom posed the idea one night when you were ranting to her about the stress of your “big city job” over the phone and she suggested you were just homesick and needed to take some time off, get back to your roots, and she was right. So here you were driving down the interstate through miles of nothing on either side in your fancy new car that dramatically contrasted with the dusty environment around you. You knew you’d hear a bunch of grief from your friends and family about how you dressed now and the loss of your sweet southern accent but you were prepared. Pulling into the long gravel driveway of your family's farm just on the outside of what was actually considered “town” you saw your dog run down from the front door to excitedly greet you. You walked out slamming your car door and slinging your bag over your shoulder before smothering your best friend with pets and kisses “Wish you’d do that to me sweetheart” came from a low raspy voice behind you in that signature cocky southern tone, you didn’t even have to turn around to know who it was. Of course, it was him, your father's favorite farm hand, Jean. How could you forget that he’d be here? 

You and Jean had a long history, and by history you mean the ongoing phenomenon of you secretly pining after him for years as he worked for your dad and him constantly flirting with every woman he laid his eyes on. He was very popular around town, especially among the girls. When you were home you’d always see Jean dragging back a different girl to his cabin next to the horse stables and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes, deep down feeling just a twinge of hurt that it wasn’t you. 

You just rolled your eyes and stood up, walking towards the front door of the big white house you grew up in “C’mon darling, I don’t even get a proper greeting?” He said smirking while leaning his right arm against your car “I’ll see you later when I go to help out with the stables Jean..” you replied in a mildly annoyed tone promptly reaching the door of your house and slamming it shut behind you. You were already stressed out about your job the last thing you needed to be stressed about was Jean fucking Kirstein. 

You walked up the rickety old stairs stained with splotches of paint, dirt, and who knows what else before reaching your room, the first one on the right, unfortunately with a perfect view of Jean’s cabin through your big, open window. You quickly shut your curtains and turned away from the view. You were not doing that. Not again. You didn’t need to know who Jean was gonna bring home tonight and cry into your pillow like you were 16 again.

 So you unloaded your things onto your bed and walked back downstairs to your mom who had already prepared a huge lunch for you. She insisted working in the city with such a stressful job had made you far too skinny and you needed to “put some meat back on those bones” so she sat you down at the round dining table in the corner of the kitchen and placed a cornucopia of your favorite foods from when you were little, her famous southern mac n cheese, a few tenders of fried chicken, some green beans for vitamins, and of course a slice of apple pie complete with a scoop of vanilla ice-cream and a coke. “I’m never gonna eat all of this mama” you giggled looking down at the absolute feast laid in front of you, god you’d been here for maybe 15 minutes and your slight accent had already made a comeback. “Well baby whatever you don’t finish we’ll have for dinner how ‘bout that hm?” She said sweetly stroking your arm “Saw you talking to Jean out there. Such a sweet boy, that one. I know your father likes him a whole lot.” You laughed softly to yourself at your mother’s comment of Jean being a “sweet boy” not wanting to get into an unnecessary argument, all you asked in response was where your father was, considering it was strange he hadn’t greeted you in one of his famous bear hugs yet. You were informed he went into a town a few towns over to pick up some more cows for the farm and wouldn’t be back for about three days. Three whole days you will have to work on the farm with just Jean, without the presence of your father as a buffer. Great. 

You scarfed down the delicious meal your sweet mother so graciously prepared for you, maybe she was right, you hadn’t been eating enough. You put what was left over in your oversized fridge and thanked her once again for welcoming you back with such open arms. You did the dishes and took your dog for a run, trying to put off your farm responsibilities until tomorrow mainly for one reason in particular. Unluckily for you the path you took on the run winded through Jean’s smoking spot when he was in-between tasks, how could you forget that? 

“Hey, princess why don’t you take a break and sit with me, hm? Got an extra cigarette just for those pretty lips.” He exhaled, smoke ghosting over his lips as he patted the spot next to him with his large hand. As much as your heart longed to find some semblance of affection in Jean’s flirtation you knew you weren’t special, he flirted with every breathing female who crossed his path, and playing into that would only hurt your feelings more in the long run. So no you would not smoke with him, you had things to do, none of them being Jean Kirstein. 

“Don’t smoke anymore, ‘ts bad for you, you know.” You remarked annoyingly trying to come off completely disinterested in his advances. “Oh, I see, the big city’s turned you into a good girl huh?” he teased taking another long drag, god he looked so good like this. All sweaty from working outside all day, tan with a slight sunburn across his nose dotting just a few freckles, his hair pushed back. “I’m not about to take advice from someone with a mullet” you scoffed and continued your walk as he protested behind you, it was hard to walk away from the opportunity to sit with him but you had to do it. You couldn’t run the risk of being any more captivated by him than you already were. 

After you returned from your walk and had been sulking in your childhood room a few hours later the time had come, like a doomsday countdown your mom stalked your door and asked why you hadn’t been out to see the horses yet. “They miss you a whole lot honey, don't know why you’re leaving 'em all high and dry like this.” She said with a slight tone of disappointment. She was right, it had been forever since you’d been in the stables and you couldn’t let Jean keep you from the horses forever, besides that wasn't fair to them. You’d just have to tough it out. Who knows maybe he’ll be somewhere else when you decided to go check up on them and perform your chores. 

You agreed with your mom and sighed as you pulled your body away from the soft comfort of your warm bed. It was boiling hot out so you needed to change it if you were going to be doing any actual work. You threw on a tank top and pair of old cut-offs you’d cut from jeans when you were 17. You looked pretty good you weren’t gonna lie to yourself. You headed downstairs out the front door and into the stables. Luckily it appeared the only living thing inside was the horses. You breathed a sigh of relief as you greeted each of them, pressing soft kisses to their noses and scratching the special spot they like behind their ears. You noticed at least two of them needed a bath, god does Jean even do anything around here besides antagonize you? 

You set your hat on a fence post and led one of the horses out into an open area where she could be bathed. You grabbed the hose and went to work scrubbing her silky mane and making sure to get her hooves as well. While you were diligently working on the task before you, Jean returned from wherever he was previously causing trouble. You caught him out of the corner of your eye just outside the big open doors of the stables talking to a tall blonde girl. “Yeah baby ‘ll see you later tonight all right,” he said in that sly seductive tone as he pushed some of her fried blonde hair behind her ear, and even worse you could see his large calloused hand resting on her ass. God you wanted to disappear right then and there, why did you have to be subjected to Jean’s promiscuous affairs? You pretended not to notice and continued working a brush through the black main of the horse in front of you “Can you believe him” you whispered to her “You probably can I guess, you must see it all the time” you said as you began to work little braids in the freshly brushed out mane. “Hey Princess picking up my slack huh” his voice came from the open doors as he stomped his way towards the other horse that needed to be bathed. “Not really, I’m just doing what needs to be done around here. Someone has to.” You scoffed in response to his obnoxious comment, how could you be so into him when he’s so aggravating?

You couldn’t stop thinking about his hand on that girl’s ass and his promise of seeing her later tonight, the look of lust behind his pretty amber eyes. Why couldn’t that be you? It’s not like his standards were high and you weren't ugly… why had he never chosen you. “What you thinking about over there pretty girl?” he said “Nothing just trying to get my work done so I can go back home” you replied nonchalantly not wanting him to see behind your facade. So you finally got your work done and succeeded in avoiding Jean for the rest of the night. You kept your promise to your sweet mom and ate your leftovers with her at the dining table before heading up to your bathroom for a hot shower. As you soaped up your body you thought of his hands, how they would feel against your soft skin, what his lips would feel like against yours, then you thought of her. About how he’s probably bottoming out in her as you were showering and the thought made you shiver. You could always check… He left his curtains open all the time, you could see what he was doing right now. No that’s pathetic. You're not 16 anymore. You quickly finished your body and wrapped yourself in a warm towel before walking back down the hall to your room to get dressed for the night. You finished up your nighttime routine, brushed out the long locks of your thick hair, and threw on a big comfy shirt you kept from one of your past boyfriends.

Walking to your bed to scroll through your phone for a little bit the curtains blew open from the movement of the air and you could briefly see into Jean’s window. You didn’t turn around, for about 5 minutes that is. You couldn’t stand not knowing what he was doing. You had to know if he kept his promise of meeting that girl, so you slowly walked over to your window and took the thin fabric of the curtain between your fingers, carefully moving it to the side.

Your fears were confirmed when you looked straight into his bedroom and saw his slender fingers digging into the hips of some girl with a terrible fake tan. Her face was contorted in pleasure and you could even hear them as Jean was making her scream around him due to their proximity. You saw his face too, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration and little strands of his brown hair making their way into his eyes, a red tint across his cheeks from exertion and a slight glimmer of sweat against his skin. You shouldn’t be watching this, this is a private moment between Jean and whoever his girl of the night was, but you couldn’t help yourself. The way his hips snapped up into her with delicious fervor just had your mind wandering about how that would feel if it was you instead. His abs contracting with each thrust had your hands wandering down the hem of your cotton panties as you sat back on the edge of your bed. Your eyes were glued to him the entire time as you slowly played with the wetness pooling between your legs, dipping your fingers inside yourself imagining they were his. You felt yourself getting closer and closer to orgasm as your breathing grew deeper and more labored. His grunts and groans were music to your ears as you felt yourself slipping over the edge. You called out his name as you let go, your body shaking with pleasure.

Your eyebrows now too were furrowed in pleasure as you watched him please the girl bouncing on top of him, You briefly shut your eyes as you got closer to your approaching high, imagining he was thrusting into you, whispering nasty things about how good you were for him. You wanted him- no you needed him so badly. As you came on your delicate fingers you opened your eyes to the pornographic scene displayed through your window, and whether you imagined it or not you could've sworn for just a second that Jean’s eyes were on you, watching your body heave up and down at the pleasure you gave yourself. But just as soon as it happened it was gone, he was whispering dirty inaudible things to the girl below him, you weren’t sure if he spotted you watching him at all. 

No, he didn’t, it was just your imagination, you decided. Jean’s never been in your room, he doesn’t know you have a view of his house from your window so why would he look in your direction at all? It just doesn't make sense.

Having found comfort in your conclusion that Jean had not caught you touching yourself for him while he fucked another girl, you quickly washed your hands and tucked yourself in for the night, dreading having to see him tomorrow. You lay in the dark and thought about the situation. You wondered if you should confront him or just pretend it never happened. Your heart raced as you tried to decide what to do.

Unfortunately, the sun rose the next morning, bringing about a new challenge of having to face Jean after the last night. You slept in for as long as you could, hoping to burn the daylight and not face him any sooner than was absolutely necessary. Your mom, however, knocked on your door around 10:30 to make sure you were feeling okay, as it was unusual for you to sleep in on the farm, thus beginning what would be a painstakingly long day. You ate a quick breakfast of microwaved oatmeal, you figured if you had to face him, it would be better to get it over with, kindly declining your mother's invitation for a home-cooked breakfast. You made your way back upstairs and threw on your uniform of a tank top, hat, and jean shorts before slowly walking towards the barn to begin your tasks for the day. Surprisingly Jean wasn’t in the barn when you arrived and instead were two new farmhands your dad recently hired from town. Teenage boys, looking for a little extra money on the side. This happened occasionally when the farm was under a little more stress than usual. You just tipped your hat to them and went on with your work as they did theirs. 

You were lugging bales of hay into a pile in the corner when you finally heard him arrive. The sound of his old pickup truck sputtering to a stop could be spotted from a million miles away. He stepped out and into the barn and surprisingly, he barely spoke to you all day. No sarcastic comments, no flirting, just a “Scuse me” every now and then when he’d accidentally bump into you.

It was nearing the end of the day which had gone at a surprisingly fast rate without being taunted by Jean. You were wrapping up your chores and started to say your goodbyes to the farm hands when he walked up to you. “Hey princess wanna come back and have a drink with me on my porch, we gotta lotta catching up to do. Wanna talk to you before you run off again.” He said in a more sincere, but slightly arrogant manner, a tone of mystery to his voice. You decided you’d have to talk to him at some point and after last night you’d have to get over your stupid little schoolgirl crush on him. You figured actually having a conversation would be good exposure therapy to get a head start on getting over him. 

So you followed in his large footsteps back to his rusty old truck he’s used to pick up countless girls and sat down in the front. He pulled out of the driveway of the stables and it was a quick 3-minute drive back to his house. The drive was quiet and the expression on Jean’s face was one you hadn’t seen in all your years of knowing him. It looked like there was a marble rolling around in his head. What was he thinking about? God, what you would do to find out. He stepped out of his old truck and swung open your door for you, what seemed like a sincerely nice action, very out of character for the Jean Kirstein you knew. You quietly followed him up the wooden stairs to a set of old dilapidated rocking chairs on his front porch. He motioned for you to take a seat, and he sat in the chair next to you. You both sat in silence as if he was waiting for you to say something. You braced yourself for whatever it was he wanted to talk about.

As you sat he flung open the screen door to his house and returned a minute later with a bottle of whiskey and two glasses. He poured two drinks and handed you one. He held his glass up and said, "Cheers." You clinked glasses and sipped your drink, still anxious about not knowing what was on his mind. He leaned back, drink in one hand and the other behind his head as he rocked back in his chair. Suddenly the realization of what was happening hit you, what do you even say to him Do you know I’ve liked you for 5 years? Why were you banging that trashy blonde girl last night? Did you see me touching myself for you? Your thoughts wandered everywhere except acceptable conversation topics. You opened your mouth to try to say something, but nothing came out. You simply stared at him, unable to process the situation and all the emotions running through you, eyes focused on his piercing amber gaze.

"Missed having you 'round here princess," he said nonchalantly as he rocked back in his chair, seemingly lightening the mood. He felt the tension too and wanted to make you more comfortable. You swallowed the lump in your throat and found your voice again. You managed a small smile and replied, "Missed being here I guess." You shrugged and looked up at the ceiling before swallowing a large sip of the whiskey, hoping it would give you a little liquid courage. "Big city girl now huh? Not used to being back on the farm." He chuckled and you could feel the tension dissipate slightly, yet still uncomfortable. The question had been stirring in your brain all day. Had he seen you? Is that what he wanted to talk about? He handed you the bottle and you both sat in a brief silence, watching the fire flicker in the lanterns lighting up the doorway. "I'm still me Jean, just been gone a while that's all…” you trailed off awkwardly “Still know my way around the farm." He smiled and you felt an overwhelming sense of relief wash over you. You smiled back, grateful for the reminder that you were still the same person underneath it all. "Seems like you forgot your manners, sweetheart." He chuckled as he stretched his arms over his head, revealing the little trail of hair hiding just above the hem of his jeans as you tried not to stare for too long. 

Taken aback, you tried to understand what he meant had you said something? “Well I don’t think I’m the one who’s been rude lately Jean, you barely looked at me all day. Might’ve said all of three words.” You said with furrowed brows, your voice trailed off sounding a little angrier than intended, accidentally letting your frustration out. “Oh yeah? And why do you think that is princess?” he said a small smirk forming on his face as he sipped his whiskey. “I dunno” you whispered under your breath as you looked down at the floor to avoid his intense glare, feeling your heart speed up. “Didn’t your daddy ever tell you it’s rude to look in people’s windows” and with that your heart stopped, your hands grew clammy and you couldn’t swallow the lump in your throat. 

He knew. Fuck. Of course, he knew. That’s what this is all about. “Jean I-” you started to say before he cut you off. “Don’t apologize, princess, you think I haven't seen you staring at me, hm? Watching me workin’ out in the sun probably getting all nice and wet for me.” “I’ve been watching you too sweetheart, walking around in those tight little shorts basically beggin’ me to fuck you right there.” He said nonchalantly as if he was just asking how your day was, sipping his drink.

Were you dreaming or did Jean Kirstein, your father's favorite employee, just say he wants to fuck you. You didn’t know how to respond so you simply stuttered out what came to your mind first “B-but that girl th- the blonde one-” you said shakily, not having looked up at Jean once since the conversation took this turn.

He stood up from his creaky chair until all you could see were his muddy boots next to yours. He grabbed your face gently with his tough, calloused fingers to make you look up at him “Wanted to put on a good show for ya. ‘Was thinking about your pretty little body under me the whole time. You know how cruel you are wearing those tiny ass tank tops, showing your tits off to all the farmhands? Know how many times I’ve thought about you wiggling under me, hm? I don't give a fuck about any girl I bring back, how could I when I'm thinking of you the whole time?"

With that, as you were about to respond Jean yanked you up to stand beneath him, smoothly catching your lips in a sloppy wet kiss. The taste of whiskey on his tongue made it all the more intoxicating, the way his hands roamed your body. You couldn’t help but moan into the kiss as his tongue explored your mouth, teeth lightly grabbing your bottom lip between them. 

Without saying anything Jean lead you into his house straight to his bedroom and sat you down on his creaky bed, towering over you. He removed your clothing painstakingly slowly as his lips ghosted your neck before taking in the view below him “Even more fuckin’ sexy than I imagined” You could see him growing hard against his jeans as you tugged at his waistband “N-need you Jean, need you so bad” was all you managed to whine out. As he removed his dirty work clothes before you your eyes wandered over his toned muscles, your mind roaming a million different places from his fingers inside you to his huge cock. 

You reached for his thick cock, pretty pink tip absolutely dripping with precum but he tsked “Uh uh baby, I’m here for you, alright? Now why don't you show me how you play with yourself for me, hm?” He whispered in your ear, chill bumps racing down your spine as a vibrant red blush crossed your face. The thought of touching yourself for Jean made you both extremely embarrassed and extremely turned on 

“C’mon princess you weren’t too shy last night now were you?” He said as his teeth lightly scraped the sweet spot on your neck making you let out a soft moan. You simply shook your head and leaned back against his pillows. You took your bottom lip in between your teeth and slowly lowered your dainty fingers down to your core, you could feel your pussy already dripping down your soft inner thighs as Jean’s gaze stayed locked on you. You began rubbing slow circles on your needy clit as you looked up at him “This what you do when you make yourself cum for me?” Jean asked, his signature cocky tone returning. You nodded and started to dip one of your small fingers into your aching pussy softly whining out “Jean..” “Yeah what do you think about baby, hm?” he said inquisitively, watching every movement of your hand on your messy pussy, making him harder than he thought possible. “Think about y-your hands and how they’d feel, s-so big and strong-” you whimpered out as you added a second finger to your sopping cunt. “Yeah just my fingers, princess?” He asked cockily, already knowing the answer but wanting to hear you say it. “N-no, think about your cock too a-and your mouth…” you trailed off, voice getting quieter as you felt a familiar knot begin to build in your stomach. 

“Mhm and what about my mouth?” The thought of you getting yourself off to him turned Jean on so much and he needed more, needed to know exactly what you thought about. “Y-your tongue, all over my pussy a-and sucking on my clit-” you were cut off as your orgasm ripped through you, overcoming you like waves crashing on a beach, eyes squinted shut. you were accustomed to making yourself cum fast due to your very little free time. 

Jean saw you unravel beneath him, mouth slightly agape as your juices pooled around your small fingers. As you pulled them out Jean replaced them with his rough thumb, rubbing lazy circles on your over-sensitive clit. You wined out and dug your fingers into his muscular back as he touched you “If you can’t take this baby, how are you gonna take my cock?” He chuckled as he squeezed one of his long slender fingers into your tight cunt. “So fucking wet for me…” he said pulling his fingers out and spreading them in front of you to showcase your wetness before sliding them into your mouth “Be a good girl and taste yourself for me m’kay?” He said eyes filled with lust as you sucked his long fingers deeper into your mouth, swirling your tongue around them as you tasted the tangy stickiness of your cum. 

“Such a good fuckin’ slut for me aren’t you?” He said as he removed his fingers, shoving them back into your pussy harshly making you gasp “Probably thought about this a million times huh, me having my fucking way with you. ‘M gonna fuck you like the slut you are, always teasin’ me when I’m at work” your pussy clenched at his words and he chuckled “yeah you like that don’t you? Like me calling you a fuckin’ slut” You nodded as he removed his fingers and moved your hands to your knees “Hold these pretty legs open for me while I eat this pussy okay baby?” He said in a commanding tone before using his ring and middle fingers to spread your pussy open for him “So fuckin pink and wet for me god, this is the prettiest fuckin pussy I’ve ever seen” he said before lowering his mouth onto your swollen clit, tongue doing figure eights all over your dripping pussy. You could feel his scruff against your skin as his hair tickled your soft thighs “Taste so sweet for me baby, said you want me to suck on your clit right?” He asked making direct eye contact with you as you nodded, he removed his mouth from your desperate pussy before saying “Good girls use their words, sweetheart" with a deviant smile “Y-yes Jean I w-want your tongue on my clit” you said, embarrassed at how he had you sprawled out in front of him, already willing to do whatever he wanted. “That’s a good girl” he smiled before attaching his mouth back on your sensitive pussy, sucking and lapping at you like he was never going to eat again. It felt so good you couldn’t control yourself as his skilled tongue ran over you, tears forming in your eyes, knees shaking as his name rolled off your tongue like a mantra.

Before you knew it you were cumming all over his face “Yeah there you go princess, give me all of it, want all of your fuckin’ cum” he said as his tongue continued to assault your swollen clit, riding out your orgasm until he was completely satisfied. You looked so fucked out beneath him and he hadn’t even given you his cock yet, but you needed it, you craved it. Needed the way you knew it would stretch out your tight walls. “Turn over for me baby,” he said placing a soft kiss on your cheek, wiping away a stray tear that has fallen on your flushed face as a result of your earth-shattering orgasm. You turned your body over onto your elbows, chest flat against the bed and round ass in the air as you heard Jean stroke his cock a few times. “Been thinking about fuckin’ this tight little pussy for so long baby” he said as he caressed the soft skin of your ass before pressing a harsh slap into the skin, seeing it turn red for him. “You want my cock, huh?” he asked cockily as he spanked you again. “P-please Jean I need your cock” you managed to whine out “I can tell baby, your pussy is just fucking dripping down your thighs onto my sheets, making such a fucking mess.” He chuckled as you moaned at his words, dragging his aching pink tip up and down your wet slit just to tease you. "P-please Jean, I need it-" you begged before he slapped his fat tip against your clit making you whimper. "You need it huh? Beg me, baby, beg for my cock." He smirked as you bucked your hips backward hoping to feel him enter you "Please Jean, please, fuck I need your cock so bad, wanna feel it stretch me out, please please please." You whined pathetically under him before he harshly thrust his painfully hard thick cock into your aching pussy, molding you around him. You screamed as he bottomed out in you immediately, making you take every inch “C’mon baby, weren't you just beggin' for this? Take it like the good little slut you are.” he said as his hips picked up their rhythm, snapping his long cock into your tight cunt, tight balls hitting your clit with every thrust making you go absolutely brain dead for him. You loved the way he stretched you out, his thick cock bullying his way into your tight pussy had you screaming for him so loud you were sure the neighbors could hear.

“So. Fucking. Tight.” He said punctuating each word with a thrust rougher than the last “Wish you could see this tight pussy creaming all over my cock” he said, eyes focused on the white ring forming at his base from both your cum and his. “Fuck, not gonna last long with you squeezing me like this princess,” he said, spanking your ass, making you moan into his sheets. “J-jean ‘m gonna..” “I know baby, I can feel that tight pussy squeezing ‘round me” he replied squeezing his eyes shut from the pleasure, going faster as his thrusts got sloppier. You came quickly at his increased speed, releasing your juices all over his cock. This turned him on more than he thought was possible 

“Fuck ‘m gonna stuff you with my cum okay? Gonne cum deep inside this pretty pussy” You didn’t reply as you were completely fucked out, soon he released deep inside you, balls tightening as he pumped every last drop of his hot sticky cum inside you. You could feel his warm seed paint the inside of your walls white so deep inside you. He fucked his cum deep inside you, riding out his orgasm before pulling out to watch it drip down your thighs. “So pretty for me,” he said turning you back over onto your back before placing a soft, romantic kiss on your lips. “You gotta stop wearing those little shorts ‘round here okay? Makes me fuckin’ sick seeing the other guys stare at you like that.” “Oh you jealous?” you giggled, feeling a happy warm feeling at the thought of Jean being possessive “Damn right I’m jealous. From now on I’m the only one that gets to see that ass okay?” He said as he pulled you closer onto his warm chest, wrapping his strong arm around you. You could smell the strong scent of his masculine cologne and closed your eyes next to him “Mhm” you nodded as you started to drift off to sleep. Jean didn’t usually let his hookups sleepover, he knew you would be more than that. 

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

(i love you, i love you (kill me in the morning) ; bonus part)

kenjaku rests on a tatami mat, admiring the ephemeral glow of the starry sky.

it’s a sight to behold, truly: the infinity within it, blooming endlessly across the milky way, before his very eyes. that swirling of indigo and pure white. endless possibilities, just out of reach — so close he can almost reach out and touch them, feel them glide across the skin of his fingertips.

slowly and sweetly, savouring the cold air, he ponders. legs crossed, hair swaying gently in the summer breeze; about this, and about that. about a plan that’s been resting in the back of his mind for thousands of years.

he wonders if there is any way you could be of use to him. 

without too much contemplation needed, he decides that there isn’t. that nothing about you could benefit his goal, that there’s nothing your presence could possibly accomplish. that you have no place, in the world he resides in, no place in the narrative of the story he is crafting. no place in the clash between curses and sorcerers and everything in between.

(and kenjaku understands, without needing to peek into his host’s memories, that perhaps that is exactly why suguru geto loved you.)

he goes to visit you, anyway. just for the fun of it, just to satisfy the ingrained urge his body has to do so. and it’s fascinating, it truly is — the fondness that sprouts in the confines of his chest when his eyes meet yours. a childhood muscle memory, one this body could never fully rid itself of. 

it is nothing short of horrified, the expression on your face; you look like you could pass out any second, and kenjaku finds it just a little bit amusing. 

but he bites back a laugh, and his lips curl up into a smile. not the smile of a people-pleaser, nor the smile of a liar, but the smile of something rather monstrous.

kenjaku does not think you will figure him out. he does not think it possible. how could you possibly? with such miniscule cursed energy, without any concept of the soul? 

and yet you do.

you tell him that he isn’t suguru geto, and you’re absolutely right. and now, kenjaku is maybe just the slightest bit intrigued.

(how strange. how amusing.

is there really no limit to what love can accomplish?)

eyes shining with barely contained, gleeful curiosity, he takes a step forward, and you call out for a dead man. a ghost. kenjaku does not expect anything to happen, because how could it?

— a hand comes up to squeeze at his throat.

it is a firm grip, with strangulation as its intended purpose. a lethal kind of ferocity. almost desperate, primal, like a mother wolf protecting her cub; the pads of his lithe fingers press into the sides of his own esophagus, and prevent any air from entering his lungs. those chipped nails dig into his pale skin, vicious and ruthless, hard enough to draw blood.

it is violent, it is gritty, it is devoted. an instinct of the body, as natural as the beating of a heart.

kenjaku can’t help it — he chokes on a laugh, as suguru’s hand curls around his throat. within the vice grip lies an old promise, molded into the very fabric of his being. a promise that transcends death.

he’ll protect you forever. 

kenjaku smiles, all teeth. drool dribbling down his chin, neck bruised and bloodied. pondering; about this, and about that. about two children by a dusty summer creek.

(no matter what, huh?

— such a fool.)