#posting this and hoping i don't get burned at the stake
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what a lot of people seem to miss when analyzing c!gem is her savior complex and how prevalent it really is
think of every single player series she has, always helping a village/villagers; afterlife and hc s9 transforming a village was also a large part of those series. in afterlife she purposely triggered a raid to be officially "hero of the village" also justifying the raid through unconnected things (a random blue moon) afterwards the village is actively on fire from her and she comments on how a few iron golems probably died while still calling it a victory (afrterlife ep 10)
it even extends outside of npcs. the most notable example being in esmp s1. she stood by fwip and sausage no matter what, but when jimmy asks for her help, gem doesn't do anything right then and there. instead, she has a private meeting with jimmy to ensure him that she can help him (esmp s1 ep 8). with xornoth, she was one of the biggest helps tracking information about them, even if it was detrimental to her own well-being (an example being getting kidnapped in ep 13). saving the ender dragon, saving sausage, saving shrub, saving joey, "saving" scott. giving scott unwanted help is what led her to be partly corrupted by xornoth, and sticking so physically close to fwip is what made crystal cliffs one of the most vulnerable empires to the rapture
you could also argue that this trait appears in esmp s2, though less obviously, because in lore, she is the one who is producing the majority of golden carrots. another example within this series is her religion. in the episode, she introduces it in (ep 11) with the goal of it to 1. look cool, 2. ensure everyone is safe from phantoms. she states over and over again how the church/religion is to help the people. while none of this is malicious and doesn't harm anyone, it exemplifies their need to provide
in secret life, the way she keeps, purposely or not, being the leader of armies; though the ender dragon fight holds the most weight here because she chose to do that. after the boogeyman apocalypse, she outright states, "i seem to be a bit of a hero on the sever" (ep 8 7:07). actively positioning herself in such a way to prove to anyone listening or to herself that she was in the right for murder basically everyone for zero benefit to the victims. cleo even points out how she will have to turn on pearl/the mounders eventually, but she refuses this notion because she believes that she can save everybody
#i'm writing this with all the love in my heart for c!gem btw#geminitay#empires smp#hermitcraft#secret life#posting this and hoping i don't get burned at the stake#also this isn't supposed to outright villianize c!gem just saying she has an intresting flaw that people can do a lot with#also also this mixed with her natural self-preservation is so interesting to me
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sparkle on, tiberius ✨
#my art#low stakes 🦇#my old friend crimson-catalyst helped with the shoes!! basically drew the shoe sketch while i slept. please check out his art he's great#anyway not many vampires sparkle in my lore. like at all. it's a super rare trait even among the daywalkers. tiberius is a weird exception#most vampires just kinda burn. or crack. and otherwise can't deal with the sun very well#and most daywalker vampires - upon sun exposure - get these dark ashy marks on their skin instead#so most vampires don't even know sparkling like this is a thing that is possible#he sure is sparkling like a MARBLE STATUE ✨ (do they actually sparkle?? idk man it's probably just a figure of speech at this point)#happy birthday silly boy#anyway his birthday is feb 2nd and he'd be uhhh. 2144 years old today#a grecoroman idiot twink. i don't think he remembers his original name - his cause of undeath was drowning in the river of tiber though#being drunk on wine while accidentally becoming a vampire is never a good idea (major memory loss may happen)#so he's just been going by tiberius. for a while. like that's just his name now#for the record he is very gay. he doesn't call it that but he totally is#also i don't care for twilight sorry it's too romantic and mormon for my taste. but its vampire lore is funny and i'll borrow from anything#like the sparkles. maybe one vampire does sparkle. as a treat#hope you enjoyed my tag ramble. time to actually post
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I Loathe You Forever? - I
❤️🔥Pairing: real estate developer!jungkook x architect!f reader
❤️🔥Genre: Enemies-to-lovers, slow-burn romance, comedic misunderstandings, professional rivalry, personal growth, future smut
❤️🔥wc: 7.5k
‼️JOIN THE TAGLIST by sending an ask or replying under this post‼️(those who asked to be added to taglist will be added for every part of this series)
taglist:@justanarchiveforfics@lovingkoalaface@itstoastsworld@yooniepot@junniesoleilkth@dna-black-and-blue@whothefuckisthishoe@sweet-nothings111@taiwan0618@miniesjams32@mochibites00brokebitch-101@stvrlighytt@amarawayne@minimoninini@somehowukook@134340-kr@madussthoughts@ali99eel @haley-17-coup
note: ahhh finally here!! sorry for the delay guys. writers block took over me. also, i don't have much knowledge in the field of architecture, all i that have written is based on the little searching i did. so forgive me if anything is wrong. anyways enjoy. Hope you like it.
(TAGLIST OPEN)
Chapter 1: The Nemesis
You adjusted your blazer, brushing invisible lint off your sleeve as you stepped into the sleek, glass-walled conference room. The sunlight streaming through the high-rise windows gleamed on the polished table, emphasizing the grandeur of the setting. You exhaled slowly, forcing down the irritation bubbling within you. This wasn’t your first time being summoned to a high-stakes negotiation meeting, but today was different. He would be there.
Jeon Jungkook.
Just thinking his name made your jaw tighten. He exuded an air of confidence so thick it bordered on arrogance, his smirk practically a trademark of his existence. You’d crossed paths with him multiple times—at architecture expos, during bidding wars for projects, and once in a particularly heated argument that ended with him walking away smugly as you seethed in silence.
"Good morning," you greeted the group already seated at the table, keeping your tone polite but professional.
The client’s representatives nodded, but your gaze instinctively shifted to the far end of the room, where Jungkook leaned casually against the wall, scrolling through his phone. He looked effortlessly put together, as usual. His tailored suit fit him like a glove, and his dark hair fell just slightly over his forehead, giving him an air of both charm and menace.
"Ah, look who decided to join us," he drawled, not even bothering to look up. "I thought you might’ve bailed when you heard I was attending."
Your fingers tightened around the strap of your briefcase, but you forced a smile. "And miss the chance to outshine you? Never."
That made him glance up, the corner of his mouth twitching into a smirk. "Outshine me? That’s ambitious."
"Ambition is the backbone of success," you replied coolly, taking your seat across from him.
The room fell into a tense silence as everyone seemed to sense the undercurrent of hostility between you two. It was no secret that you and Jungkook didn’t get along, and while some found your rivalry entertaining, others probably wished you’d sort it out—or, at the very least, keep it out of professional spaces.
The meeting began with formal introductions and a presentation about the project—a groundbreaking, sustainable luxury housing complex that was bound to make waves in the industry. You took meticulous notes, occasionally glancing at Jungkook. He was annoyingly composed, nodding at key points and even asking insightful questions that made you begrudgingly respect him.
When it was your turn to speak, you rose confidently, presenting your ideas with the passion and precision you were known for. You could feel his gaze on you the entire time, but you didn’t falter. Not until he interrupted.
"That’s an interesting take," he said, his voice smooth but laced with condescension. "But don’t you think the budget constraints would make your design unrealistic?"
You turned to him, narrowing your eyes. "Not if the materials are sourced correctly. I’ve already identified suppliers who can meet both cost and quality requirements."
He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. "And if they fail to deliver?"
"They won’t," you snapped. "Because unlike you, I don’t make baseless promises. I do my research."
A low murmur spread through the room, and you caught the amused glint in the client’s eyes. Jungkook, however, didn’t seem fazed. He simply tilted his head, as if weighing your words, before letting out a soft chuckle.
"Touché," he said, and for a brief moment, you thought you saw something other than mockery in his expression—something closer to respect.
The rest of the meeting continued in a similarly tense fashion, with the two of you subtly (and sometimes not-so-subtly) undermining each other. By the time it ended, you were mentally exhausted but determined not to let it show.
As you packed your things, Jungkook approached, hands casually tucked into his pockets.
"Not bad today," he said, his tone almost casual. "For someone who’s always playing catch-up."
You clenched your jaw, refusing to rise to the bait. "Funny. I was just about to say the same to you."
His smirk widened. "You know, if you put half as much energy into working with me as you do fighting me, we might actually accomplish something impressive."
You stepped closer, meeting his gaze with unwavering determination. "I’d rather quit this project than work with you."
"Careful," he murmured, his voice low but teasing. "Words like that have a way of coming back to haunt you."
With that, he turned and walked away, leaving you standing there, seething and utterly annoyed. You didn’t know what frustrated you more—his smug attitude or the fact that he always seemed to have the last word.
//
The afternoon sun poured into the cafeteria, warming the modern space with its open design and glass walls. You sat with your friends at a corner table, trying to shake off the lingering annoyance from the morning meeting. A tray of food sat in front of you, mostly untouched, as you poked at the pasta with your fork.
“Are you okay?” Jisoo asked, her brows furrowed with concern. “You’ve been unusually quiet since the meeting.”
“I’m fine,” you muttered, though your scowl gave you away. “Just tired of certain people.”
“Certain smug people?” Yuna chimed in knowingly, grinning as she sipped her iced coffee.
You gave her a pointed look but didn’t respond, focusing instead on rearranging your food into neat sections.
The conversation was interrupted by a familiar voice that made you freeze.
“Well, isn’t this a lovely group,” Jungkook drawled as he approached your table, a casual, almost predatory smile on his face.
Your friends looked up in surprise, while you mentally cursed the universe for your terrible luck.
“Hello,” he said smoothly, his tone polite but carrying just enough of that signature Jungkook smugness to set your teeth on edge. “How are you all? Having a good meal?”
“Hi, Jungkook,” Jisoo replied, her tone warm as she smiled at him.
“Yes, thank you,” Yuna added politely.
You, however, stayed silent, your fingers tightening around your fork.
Jungkook’s gaze shifted to you, and his smile widened. “No witty remarks today? I’m almost disappointed.”
You forced a tight smile. “I’m saving my energy for people who deserve it.”
He chuckled, clearly enjoying himself. “Well, don’t let me ruin your lunch. Have a good meal.”
With that, he turned and walked away, leaving your table in a sudden hush.
Jisoo broke the silence first, looking after him with a thoughtful expression. “He’s so polite. Why do you hate him so much?”
“Polite?” you repeated, your voice shooting up an octave. “He’s cunning! A fox in a rabbit’s clothing. He only cares about himself, always looking for ways to outshine everyone and make them feel small.”
Yuna snorted, trying to stifle her laughter. “A fox? Really?”
“Yes!” you said, throwing your hands up in exasperation. “He’s smug, manipulative, and—” You paused, groaning loudly. “Ugh! I’ve lost my appetite.”
Jisoo and Yuna exchanged amused glances before Jisoo said, “You should eat. You’ll need energy to fight against the ‘fox.’”
Yuna grinned, nudging your tray closer to you. “Come on. It’s fuel for the battle.”
You huffed, reluctantly taking a small bite of pasta as they laughed at your expense. Despite your annoyance, you couldn’t help but smile faintly at their teasing.
Little did you know, Jungkook had overheard just enough of your outburst to find it endlessly entertaining.
The next few weeks passed in a blur of meetings, phone calls, and emails, all of which included one consistent, infuriating factor: Jeon Jungkook. It seemed as though he had made it his personal mission to counter every idea you presented, every proposal you crafted, and every small victory you claimed. It wasn’t just work—it was war.
At first, you thought you could ignore him. His sarcastic remarks, his polished smile, his irritating habit of leaning back in his chair during meetings like he owned the world. But the more you tried to focus on your work, the more he found ways to disrupt your peace.
It was on a particularly stressful Wednesday afternoon, during yet another project meeting, that he pushed you too far.
“While I appreciate the effort,” Jungkook said, his tone dripping with false politeness, “don’t you think your design is a little… ambitious? We’re trying to appeal to practicality here, not fantasy.”
You inhaled sharply, gripping the edge of the conference table. “Ambitious is exactly what this project needs, Jungkook. Unlike some people, I don’t believe in settling for mediocrity.”
The room went silent, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. The other team members exchanged wary glances, clearly uncomfortable with the escalating hostility.
Jungkook’s eyes sparkled with amusement, as if he lived for these moments. “Mediocrity, huh?” he said, leaning forward slightly. “And here I thought practicality was just another word for success.”
Before you could retort, the project manager—an older, no-nonsense woman named Mrs. Kang—cleared her throat loudly.
“Enough,” she said firmly, her sharp gaze darting between the two of you. “We’re here to collaborate, not tear each other apart. If you two can’t keep your personal rivalry out of this project, I’ll find someone who can.”
The reprimand stung, but you swallowed your pride and nodded. Jungkook, to his credit, looked slightly chastised, though his smirk didn’t entirely disappear.
After the meeting, you stayed behind to gather your notes, hoping to avoid any further interaction with him. Your friends, Jisoo and Yuna, had lingered as well, partly out of curiosity and partly because they seemed to have made it their mission to witness every interaction between you and Jungkook.
“Well, that was intense,” Yuna remarked, leaning against the table with a sly grin. “You almost had him there.”
“Almost?” you said, raising an eyebrow as you shoved papers into your bag. “I’d say I held my ground pretty well.”
“You did,” Jisoo said with a supportive nod, though her expression was tinged with concern. “But maybe tone it down a little next time? Mrs. Kang looked like she was ready to throw her clipboard at you both.”
Before you could respond, a familiar voice cut through the conversation.
“You know,” Jungkook said casually as he approached, standing beside your group with his trademark smirk, “I think Mrs. Kang likes you better when you’re not scowling.”
Yuna stifled a laugh, while Jisoo’s eyes widened slightly. You straightened up, glaring at him. “And I think the rest of us like you better when you’re not talking.”
He laughed, the sound warm and unguarded, catching you—and apparently your friends—off guard. Jisoo blinked in surprise, and Yuna looked between the two of you with barely concealed amusement.
“Relax,” Jungkook said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “I’m just messing with you.”
“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” you asked dryly, slinging your bag over your shoulder.
“Maybe,” he said, his expression softening slightly. “You’re not as bad as you think, you know. When you’re not trying to annihilate me, that is.”
His words left you momentarily speechless. Before you could think of a reply, he turned to Yuna and Jisoo, giving them a polite nod. “Ladies,” he said, before walking away, leaving you with a strange mix of frustration and confusion.
As soon as he was out of earshot, Yuna grinned mischievously. “Did he just compliment you? I think he’s warming up to you.”
“Warming up?” you repeated, incredulous. “I think he’s just finding new ways to mess with me.”
Jisoo tilted her head thoughtfully. “Or maybe he’s just… not that bad?”
You shot her a look. “Not you too.”
Yuna laughed, slinging an arm around your shoulders. “Come on, let’s grab coffee. You’re going to need the caffeine to deal with him tomorrow.”
Despite your annoyance, you allowed them to steer you toward the cafeteria, their teasing chatter providing a welcome distraction from the lingering echo of Jungkook’s unexpected words.
//
Later that evening, you sat cross-legged on your small couch, biting absentmindedly into a biscuit as you stared at the project plans displayed on your laptop screen. Despite your best efforts, the words and numbers blurred together, your mind circling back to Jungkook’s parting comment.
“You’re not as bad as you think.”
You sighed, chewing a little more aggressively than necessary. What did he even mean by that? And why did it bother me so much?
A muffled noise from the other side of the wall pulled you from your thoughts. You froze mid-bite, tilting your head toward the sound. It was faint but persistent, a combination of shuffling and the occasional thud.
“Is someone finally moving in?” you murmured, brushing the crumbs off your hands. “I hope it’s someone nice.”
Clapping your hands to remove the last traces of dust, you stood and stretched. “I should sleep now,” you muttered, shutting your laptop and heading to your bedroom.
//
The next morning was a blessed weekend, and you decided to hit the gym for a workout. The familiar buzz of people and the clang of weights greeted you as you stepped inside, ready to lose yourself in the rhythm of exercise.
After a quick warm-up, you moved onto the treadmill, your earbuds blasting your favorite playlist.
Just as you settled into a comfortable rhythm, you heard a familiar voice cut through the music.
“Good morning.”
Your eyes widened as you turned to see Jungkook, his smug grin in full effect, standing a few feet away in athletic gear.
“What are you doing here?” you asked, pulling out one earbud. “You don’t go here.”
“I do now,” he replied casually, holding up a water bottle as if it were proof of his membership.
You scowled. “Great. I used to only see your face on weekdays, and now you’ve ruined my weekends too.”
He smirked. “Happy to be of service.”
Muttering under your breath, you turned your attention back to the treadmill, determined to ignore him. Unfortunately, his presence lingered in the back of your mind throughout your workout.
After finishing at the gym, you returned to your apartment building, sweat-soaked but feeling lighter. That relief disappeared the moment you spotted Jungkook standing outside his door—the apartment next to yours. He was fiddling with his keys when you approached.
“Are you stalking me?” you huffed, crossing your arms.
He looked up, eyebrows raised. “What are you talking about? This is my house.” He motioned toward the door beside yours.
You froze. “You’re the new neighbor?!”
His lips twitched with amusement. “Surprise.”
Throwing your hands in the air, you muttered, “Did a black cat cross my path or something?”
He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. “Why blame the cat? Sounds like your luck.”
“Ugh! Whatever. Just don’t talk to me,” you snapped, storming into your apartment and slamming the door shut.
//
The next morning, your alarm blared, jolting you awake. “Crap, I’m late!” you exclaimed, scrambling out of bed. You threw on clothes, grabbed your bag, and dashed out the door.
In the parking lot, you stopped short. Your car tire was completely flat.
“What the hell? I’m already late!” you groaned, kicking the deflated tire. As if on cue, a car honked behind you. Turning, you saw Jungkook’s car idling nearby. He rolled down the window, smirking as usual.
“What happened? Flat tire?” he asked.
“No, I just thought I’d admire the pavement,” you snapped.
He chuckled. “Get in. I’ll drop you off.”
“Forget it. I’ll just take the bus or something.”
“You’re already late,” he pointed out. “Waiting for a bus will make you even later. Just get in. We’re going to the same place, anyway.”
Reluctantly, you sighed. “Just my luck,” you muttered, climbing into the passenger seat.
As you settled in, he leaned over, his hand brushing past yours to grab the seatbelt. You stiffened, your breath hitching at the unexpected closeness.
“What are you doing?!” you exclaimed, leaning away.
“You forgot to wear your seatbelt,” he said nonchalantly, buckling it for you. His proximity made your cheeks warm.
Clearing your throat, you said, “Just drive.”
The ride was suffocatingly quiet, save for the occasional hum of the engine and the faint melody of a radio station playing in the background. You stared out the window, counting streetlights, while Jungkook drove with a maddening calm, as though he wasn’t the reason your morning was already spiraling out of control.
When you finally reached the office, you spotted Jisoo and Yuna near the entrance. They waved, each holding a coffee cup.
“There you are!” Jisoo said, handing you your usual order. “But why are you two coming together? Did you guys make up?” She nodded toward Jungkook, who was parking his car.
You scoffed. “You think? It feels like I woke up on the wrong side of the bed today.”
Yuna grinned. “You sure it’s just today?”
Rolling your eyes, you took a sip of coffee, ignoring their teasing. From across the lot, Jungkook caught your eye and winked, making you groan inwardly.
It’s going to be a long day.
The following week, the project’s momentum picked up, and with it came the next challenge: site inspections. The project’s location, an expansive plot of land nestled just outside the bustling city, was to host a blend of eco-friendly architecture and luxury living. It was a brilliant concept, one you were proud to contribute to.
But, of course, Jungkook had to be there.
You arrived at the site early, your boots crunching against the damp gravel as you stepped out of your car. The sky was a murky gray that promised rain at any moment. The workers were setting up survey equipment, and Mrs. Kang was speaking to the lead engineer near the makeshift office trailer.
You greeted her briefly before diving into your inspection. Walking the perimeter, you visualized how the landscape would transform: sleek, energy-efficient homes nestled seamlessly into the natural terrain. You smiled to yourself, already drafting ideas in your head.
That brief moment of peace was shattered when a familiar voice cut through the air.
“Careful not to trip over your own ambition.”
You turned, already annoyed, to find Jungkook strolling toward you, hands in his pockets, an insufferable grin on his face. He looked out of place in the rugged setting, his polished shoes and tailored jacket a stark contrast to your practical attire.
“Do you have anything useful to say, or are you just here to be a nuisance?” you shot back.
“I’m here to inspect the site,” he replied smoothly, stopping a few feet away from you. “Same as you. Unless you’d prefer I stay out of your way?”
“That would be ideal,” you muttered, turning back to your notes.
“Noted,” he said, though he made no move to leave. Instead, he stood beside you, his gaze scanning the horizon. “You’re imagining it, aren’t you? How it’ll all look once it’s built.”
You hesitated, caught off guard by his observation. “Of course. Aren’t you?”
He shrugged. “I prefer to deal in realities, not fantasies.”
You scoffed, scribbling a note on your pad. “That’s the problem with you. You don’t dream big enough.”
“And that’s the problem with you,” he countered, his tone light but pointed. “You dream so big, you forget about the details that make it all possible.”
His words stung more than you cared to admit, but you refused to let him see it quickly masking your reaction with a smirk. “And yet, somehow, I always manage to make my dreams a reality. Maybe you should take notes.”
Jungkook chuckled softly, his gaze flicking to you. “I don’t need to take notes, ___.” He leaned slightly closer, the warmth of his presence unsettling in the cool morning air. “I just need to make sure you don’t overlook the cracks in your perfect vision.”
Before the conversation could escalate further, Mrs. Kang approached, clipboard in hand. “Enough flirting, you two,” she said dryly, startling you both.
You gaped at her, heat rushing to your face. “Flirting? We’re not—”
“Whatever it is, keep it professional,” she interrupted, cutting you off. “We’ve got a lot to cover today, and I need both of you on the same page.” You marched ahead, eager to put distance between yourself and the aggravating man.
The briefing began, with Mrs. Kang detailing the challenges of incorporating the sustainable design into the natural landscape without compromising the luxury aspect. It was an intricate balance, one you knew was crucial to the project’s success.
As she spoke, you noticed Jungkook occasionally glancing in your direction, as if gauging your reaction. You ignored him, focusing instead on contributing ideas to address potential construction delays. Yet, every time you spoke, Jungkook would counter with his own points—some valid, others seemingly designed to provoke you.
It was a delicate dance, the two of you weaving between collaboration and combativeness, and everyone present could feel the tension simmering beneath the surface.
Once the meeting concluded, the group split off to survey different areas of the site. Unfortunately, Mrs. Kang assigned you and Jungkook to the same section.
“Great,” you muttered under your breath as you grabbed your gear.
Jungkook caught up to you, a teasing smile playing on his lips. “Looks like we’re stuck together. Try not to lose your temper, yeah?”
“Try not to test my patience,” you snapped back, quickening your pace.
The two of you navigated the uneven terrain in tense silence, the only sounds being the crunch of gravel underfoot and the distant hum of machinery. Despite the irritation simmering within you, you couldn’t help but notice the way Jungkook’s sharp eyes scanned the surroundings, taking in every detail.
“This area’s going to be a challenge,” he said finally, breaking the silence. “The slope’s too steep for a traditional foundation.”
You nodded reluctantly, scribbling in your notebook. “We’ll have to design a tiered structure. It’ll cost more, but it’ll integrate better with the environment.”
“Agreed,” he said, surprising you with his lack of sarcasm.
For a brief moment, the hostility between you eased, replaced by a shared understanding of the task at hand. It was... unsettling, this glimpse of a Jungkook who wasn’t insufferable.
But the truce didn’t last long.
As you crouched to examine a patch of soil near the slope, Jungkook crouched beside you, his proximity making you acutely aware of his presence.
“Don’t fall,” he said, his tone laced with mock concern.
You shot him a glare. “I think I can manage.”
He smirked. “Just checking. I’d hate to see you take a tumble—though I’m sure you’d land gracefully.”
Your lips twitched despite yourself, but you refused to let him see you smile. “If you’re done with the commentary, maybe you could focus on the work?”
“Always focused,” he replied with a casual shrug, leaning back on his heels .
The two of you worked in relative silence after that, occasionally exchanging remarks but mostly staying out of each other’s way. Still, you couldn’t deny the odd sense of balance you felt. As much as Jungkook annoyed you, there was no denying that he challenged you—and, in some ways, made you better.
By the time the day ended, the sun was dipping low on the horizon, casting the site in golden light.
“Well,” Jungkook said as you packed up your things. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”
You raised an eyebrow. “If by ‘not so bad,’ you mean tolerable, then sure.”
He chuckled, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “Careful, ___. You might start liking me.”
You scoffed, brushing past him. “Won’t you like that?”
The site inspection lasted longer than expected, with Mrs. Kang pointing out areas of concern and requesting alternative solutions. You focused on the discussion, ignoring the occasional pointed remarks Jungkook threw your way. By the time the meeting wrapped up, the sun was dipping low on the horizon, casting a golden glow over the site.
“Good work today,” Mrs. Kang said, giving both of you a nod before heading to her car.
You exhaled, relieved to be done for the day. Gathering your things, you made your way back to your car, eager to leave Jungkook and his infuriating smirk behind.
But, of course, he was right behind you.
“Heading out already?” he asked casually.
You shot him a sideways glance. “Unlike some people, I don’t loiter for no reason.”
He chuckled, pulling his keys from his pocket. “Maybe I just enjoy the view.”
You paused, caught off guard by his words. When you turned to look at him, he was already walking toward his car, his expression unreadable.
What was that supposed to mean?
Shaking your head, you climbed into your car and drove away, determined not to dwell on the strange moment.
But as you lay in bed that night, replaying the day’s events in your mind, you couldn’t help but wonder if there was more to Jungkook than the infuriating façade he so carefully maintained.
//
The following days were a whirlwind of preparations for the next phase of the project. Meetings turned into late nights at the office, and the constant pressure made it difficult to think about anything—or anyone—else. Yet, somehow, Jungkook always found a way to intrude on your thoughts. Whether it was his annoying quips during meetings or the rare moments when he actually offered useful insights, he was impossible to ignore.
And then there were those chance encounters in the hallway of your apartment complex. At times, you'd walk back to your unit after a long day, only to find him leaning casually against the wall outside his door, scrolling through his phone or adjusting his jacket. The sight of him, always so effortlessly put together, would grind your nerves in the most infuriating way.
You hated that.
And yet…
There was something oddly grounding about his presence. Something that kept you on your toes, pushing you to be better, sharper, more determined.
Not that you’d ever admit it to him.
//
The unexpected moments of civility between you and Jungkook were becoming annoyingly frequent, leaving you with a strange, unsettled feeling. No matter how much you tried to resist, there was something undeniably magnetic about the way he pushed you—both in your work and under your skin. The snarky remarks, the constant tension, and those rare moments when you actually managed to work together were beginning to blur the line between pure irritation and... something you refused to acknowledge.
The project was demanding enough without having to navigate your complicated feelings toward the man who seemed to have an uncanny ability to get under your skin.
The following week, you found yourself once again working late in the office, trying to meet the growing deadlines for the project. The building was quiet, the hum of the fluorescent lights filling the space. As the clock ticked closer to midnight, you couldn’t help but notice the familiar presence of Jungkook leaning against the doorframe.
“Still here?” he asked, his voice breaking the silence.
You glanced up, your tired eyes narrowing at him. “What do you want now?”
He grinned, his expression mischievous. “I was just about to ask you the same thing. Aren’t you tired of working yourself to the bone?”
You rolled your eyes, closing the contract in front of you. “I have deadlines, unlike some people.”
Jungkook pushed off from the doorframe, walking further into the room. “Yeah, well, some of us know how to balance work and... other things.”
You raised an eyebrow, sensing that this conversation was going somewhere you didn’t want it to go. “Other things? Like what?”
He paused, then leaned against the desk, his eyes locking with yours. “Like... not taking everything so seriously.”
You swallowed, a flicker of something strange stirring in your chest. “I take my work seriously, Jungkook. Unlike some people, I don’t waste my time.”
There it was again—the challenge in his eyes, the unspoken understanding between you. For a moment, neither of you spoke. The air in the room felt charged, thick with an unspoken tension. Finally, he broke the silence.
“You know, you’re not as bad as you pretend to be,” he said, his tone almost contemplative.
You blinked, caught off guard by the statement. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
He shrugged. “Just an observation. You’ve got a lot of potential. But sometimes you’re too busy fighting to see it.”
Your heart skipped a beat, the unexpected compliment catching you off guard. You opened your mouth to respond, but the words escaped you. Instead, you focused on the papers in front of you, trying to divert the conversation back to something you could control.
“Stop,” you muttered, not wanting to hear anymore. “We’re not friends. Don’t pretend we are.”
Jungkook’s smile faltered, but only for a second. “I wasn’t pretending,” he replied, his voice quieter now.
You looked up to find him staring at you, the usual smirk replaced by something far more serious. But before you could say anything, he turned and walked toward the door.
“Goodnight, ___,” he said softly, pausing at the threshold. “Try to get some rest.”
You didn’t reply, instead watching as he left the room, the door clicking shut behind him. You sat there for a moment, the weight of his words lingering in the air. It was the first time in a long while that you found yourself wondering if Jungkook was more than just the annoyingly handsome man you had to deal with.
The following day, you arrived at the office early, determined to get ahead. You had a meeting with Mr. Kim in an hour, and you wanted to make sure every detail of your presentation was perfect.
The quiet hum of the office greeted you as you set up in the conference room, spreading out your notes and adjusting the slides on the projector.
You were so absorbed in your work that you didn’t notice Jungkook standing in the doorway until he cleared his throat.
“Early bird,” he remarked, stepping inside.
You glanced up, surprised to see him. He was holding a folder, his expression unusually neutral.
“Shouldn’t you be sleeping in? Or is this your way of keeping up with me?” you asked, arching an eyebrow.
Jungkook smirked. “If I wanted to keep up with you, I’d have to slow down first.”
Your jaw clenched, but before you could retort, he held up the folder.
“Relax,” he said, his tone almost teasing. “I’m here for Mr. Kim’s meeting too.”
“You?” you asked, incredulous. “I thought you weren’t involved in this project anymore.”
“Things change,” he replied cryptically, taking a seat at the table.
You stared at him for a moment, suspicion creeping in. But there was no time to dwell on it—Mr. Kim walked in moments later, his presence commanding immediate attention.
//
The meeting was tense. Mr. Kim scrutinized every detail of your proposal, his sharp gaze cutting through your explanations. Jungkook, to your irritation, chimed in more than once, pointing out areas that could be “streamlined” or “revised.”
At one point, Mr. Kim leaned back in his chair, his expression thoughtful.
“You both clearly have strong opinions,” he said, looking between you and Jungkook. “But I need a cohesive vision. If we combine both your ideas I believe the results would be better, don’t you think?” he asked Mrs. Kang, his tone calm but pointed.
Mrs. Kang nodded in agreement, her expression firm as she turned to you and Jungkook. “You’ll work together on this and present a joint proposal by the end of the week. I expect nothing less than a refined, cohesive vision.”
Your heart sank. A joint proposal?
You chanced a glance at Jungkook, who maintained a neutral expression, his features unreadable as if he had expected this outcome all along. He gave a small nod, his voice steady and calm as he replied, “Understood.”
You forced a smile, masking your frustration. “Of course.”
As the meeting adjourned, you gathered your notes, avoiding Jungkook’s gaze. But as you turned to leave, he fell into step beside you.
“This should be fun,” he said dryly.
“Fun?” you shot back, your voice low. “If by fun you mean unbearable, then sure.”
Jungkook chuckled, his tone lighter than expected. “Come on, we’ve worked together before. This won’t be so bad.”
You stopped walking, turning to face him. “That’s because you weren’t actively trying to sabotage me before.”
His expression softened, the humor fading. “I’m not trying to sabotage you.”
“Could’ve fooled me,” you muttered, brushing past him.
But his next words stopped you in your tracks.
“For what it’s worth,” he said quietly, “I think your idea has merit. It just needs refining.”
You turned to look at him, surprised by the unexpected compliment. He met your gaze evenly, no trace of sarcasm in his tone.
“Thanks,” you said, the word awkward but genuine.
He nodded, a faint smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Don’t mention it. Literally.”
You couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped you, though you quickly stifled it.
“See you at 3,” you said, turning on your heel before he could see the faint smile tugging at your lips.
As you walked away, you couldn’t shake the feeling that Jungkook was more than the rival you’d always seen him as.
The day passed in a haze of back-to-back meetings and endless emails. By the time three o’clock rolled around, you were already dreading the joint session with Jungkook.
The conference room felt a little too big when you walked in. Jungkook was already there, leaning back in his chair with his laptop open. He glanced up as you entered, and for once, his expression was unreadable.
“Ready to collaborate?” he asked, his tone suspiciously light.
You set your notebook down, ignoring his attempt at humor. “Let’s just get this over with.”
Jungkook chuckled softly, closing his laptop. “You always make it sound like working with me is a death sentence.”
You didn’t respond, choosing instead to spread out your notes and connect your laptop to the projector. Jungkook watched you in silence, which only made the tension in the room thicker.
Once everything was set up, you cleared your throat. “We need to streamline the sections on resource allocation and timeline management. Mr. Kim was clear about that.”
Jungkook nodded, leaning forward. “Agreed. But we also need to address scalability. Your plan is solid, but it doesn’t leave much room for growth.”
You narrowed your eyes at him. “It’s a proposal, Jungkook, not a five-year strategy. The goal is to secure approval for the immediate next steps.”
“And if the immediate next steps aren’t sustainable?” he countered.
The back-and-forth continued, each of you stubbornly defending your perspectives. It wasn’t until nearly an hour later that the conversation took a slightly different turn.
“You’re not listening,” you said, exasperated. “I’m not saying scalability doesn’t matter, but—”
“I’m listening,” Jungkook interrupted, his tone calm. “I just don’t agree with you.”
You let out a frustrated sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Fine. Then what’s your brilliant solution?”
He leaned back in his chair, his expression thoughtful. “We split the sections. I’ll handle scalability and resource optimization. You take the timeline and project scope. We’ll merge it once we’re done.”
It wasn’t a bad idea, but admitting that felt like handing him a victory. “Fine,” you said grudgingly.
Jungkook smirked. “You’re welcome.”
“Don’t push it,” you muttered, turning back to your laptop.
The next few days passed in a blur of work. True to his word, Jungkook focused on his assigned sections, and you had to admit—begrudgingly—that his suggestions were solid. But working with him still wasn’t without its challenges.
"Your timeline’s too aggressive," he said one evening as the two of you reviewed the merged proposal.
You shot him a glare. "It’s realistic."
"It’s unrealistic if you expect people to work 12-hour days," he replied, leaning back in his chair. "Not everyone’s a workaholic like you."
"Maybe if everyone were, we’d get things done faster," you shot back.
Jungkook laughed, the sound catching you off guard. "You’re impossible, you know that?"
You crossed your arms, but there was no malice behind your glare. "And you’re insufferable. So, I guess we’re even."
For a moment, the tension eased. You caught a faint trace of a smile on Jungkook’s face, and it was… disarming. But before you could dwell on it, he cleared his throat, his expression turning serious.
"We’ll need to present this together. Have you thought about how we’ll divide the slides?"
You nodded, grateful for the shift in focus. "I’ll take the opening and scope overview. You can cover scalability and resource planning."
"Deal," he said, extending his hand.
You hesitated for a moment before shaking it. His grip was firm, his hand warm.
"Let’s try not to kill each other during the presentation," you said dryly.
"No promises," he replied, a teasing glint in his eyes.
The morning of the presentation, you found yourself nervously adjusting your blazer in the mirror. It wasn’t because of Jungkook—that would be ridiculous. But as the two of you stood side by side in the conference room, presenting to Mr. Kim and the board, you couldn’t help but notice how seamlessly you worked together.
Jungkook’s delivery was polished, his points sharp and persuasive. When it was your turn, he didn’t interrupt or overshadow you.
When the presentation ended, Mr. Kim smiled, nodding with approval. "Excellent work. I’m ready to move forward with the proposal. Thank you all for your hard work. Let's aim to have the implementation ready by next week."
As the board members filed out, you felt a small surge of relief.
"You did good," Jungkook said quietly, his voice low enough for only you to hear.
You glanced at him, surprised. His expression was uncharacteristically genuine.
"You too," you replied softly.
For once, there was no snarky retort, no sharp edge to his words. Just a quiet acknowledgment that maybe—just maybe—you made a good team.
_________________________________________________________________________
It was a quiet morning when Mrs.Kang summoned you and Jungkook to his office. Her expression was unreadable, which immediately put you on edge. Jungkook, as always, looked irritatingly calm, his hands casually tucked into the pockets of his perfectly tailored suit.
“I have good news,” Mrs. Kang began, gesturing for the two of you to take a seat. “A significant proposal has come in from a high-profile client based in Las Vegas.”
You exchanged a glance with Jungkook, your curiosity piqued.
“The client is considering investing in a long-term partnership with our firm, but they’ve requested a dedicated team to oversee the preliminary project.”
Jungkook leaned forward. “What kind of project?”
“A comprehensive legal framework for their expanding business operations,” she explained. “It’s a multi-faceted endeavor, involving contracts, compliance, and regulatory assessments. They need everything done efficiently, and they’re willing to pay generously for it.”
You nodded slowly, already anticipating the workload. “And who’s handling it?”
Mrs. Kang’s gaze flicked between the two of you. “You are.”
Your stomach dropped. “Together?”
“Yes,” she said firmly. “The client specifically requested for our best workers, and after your stellar performance in the last project, it’s clear that’s you two. This is a major opportunity for the firm, and I trust you’ll make it a success.”
Jungkook’s lips quirked into a small, smug smile. “Sounds like a challenge.”
You shot him a glare before turning back to Mrs. Kang. “How long will we be in Las Vegas?”
“Until the project is completed. The initial timeline is four weeks, but it could be extended depending on the client’s requirements.”
Four weeks. Four weeks of working with Jungkook. You weren’t sure if you should laugh or cry.
“When do we leave?” Jungkook asked, his tone calm and professional.
“Tomorrow morning,” Mrs. Kang said, sliding two plane tickets across the desk. “I expect regular updates. And remember, this project could define the trajectory of your careers.”
As you left her office, you couldn’t shake the sinking feeling in your chest.
“Guess we’re going to Vegas,” Jungkook said as the two of you walked back to your desks.
You didn’t dignify him with a response.
//
The next morning, you found yourself at the airport, juggling your carry-on bag, laptop case, and an iced coffee you barely had time to grab.By the time you reached the airport the next morning, you were already exhausted. It wasn’t even 7 AM, but Jungkook was waiting at the gate, scrolling through his phone like he didn’t have a care in the world. His effortlessly polished outfit—a simple black hoodie and dark jeans—looked like something out of a casual photoshoot.
You, on the other hand, were fighting a losing battle with your overstuffed carry-on bag and a coffee cup that kept threatening to spill.
“Morning,” he greeted, barely looking up.
“Morning,” you mumbled back, though your tone suggested it was anything but good.
As you plopped into the seat next to him, you struggled to balance your coffee on the armrest while rummaging through your bag for your boarding pass. Jungkook glanced over, clearly amused by your chaotic energy.
“Are you planning on staying there or what?” he quipped, nodding at your bag.
“It’s called being prepared,” you shot back. “Not that you’d know anything about that.”
He smirked. “I packed in twenty minutes, and I guarantee I have everything I need.”
“Congratulations,” you said dryly. “Do you want a medal?”
He smirked, clearly unbothered.
When boarding was announced, you couldn’t hide your irritation when you saw that your seats were together. The last thing you wanted was to sit next to Jungkook for the duration of the flight. But of course, you didn’t have much choice. There was no way you were going to fight him over something so trivial, even if the idea of being stuck next to him for hours made your skin crawl.
As the plane took off, you tried to focus on the city shrinking beneath you, but you couldn’t ignore how Jungkook had leaned over, practically pressing against your side as he peered out the window.
"Can't you stay put?" you muttered, your irritation rising.
He smirked without looking at you. "Not everyone can sit still for hours like you."
You shot him a glare, but he was already lost in the view outside, and there was nothing more to say. Silence settled between you, the quiet only interrupted by the hum of the plane.
“Vegas,” he mused, breaking the silence. “I hope you packed something that isn’t boring lawyer attire.”
You turned to glare at him. “And what exactly do you think I should’ve packed? A sequined dress and feather boa?”
He grinned. “Not a bad idea. It’d definitely make things more interesting.”
You crossed your arms. “For your information, I have plenty of stylish clothes. Not that it’s any of your business.”
“Sure you do,” he said with a teasing lilt. “But Vegas is a little more… exciting.”
“You can’t even see half the things in my suitcase, so stop assuming,” you snapped, your tone sharper than you intended.
“Relax, I’m kidding.” He leaned back in his seat, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “You’re so easy to wind up.”
You rolled your eyes, trying to ignore him, but then Jungkook started fiddling with the instruction sheet that was in front of him, crinkling it loudly. The constant rustling made it hard to concentrate, and you were starting to lose patience.
“Seriously?” you asked, finally glancing over at him.
He didn’t look up from the pamphlet. “What?”
“Can you stop with that?” you said, irritation creeping into your voice. “It’s like you're trying to annoy me on purpose.”
He raised an eyebrow, looking at you briefly. “I’m just reading it.”
“You’re not reading it, you’re crumpling it,” you retorted. “Could you, for once, just sit still?”
He shrugged, still flicking through the paper. "What if something happens? I need to make sure you're okay. You’ve got no one here but me."
You snapped, "That’s why we have flight attendants to help us."
He raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching into a smirk. "True. But I can’t say I trust them as much as I trust myself to look out for you."
You groaned, leaning back in your seat, hoping he'd get the hint and stop, but the crinkling continued, and you were about to lose it.
“Seriously,” you muttered. “You’re exhausting.”
“Guess you’re stuck with me for the next few weeks,” he said, completely unbothered by your frustration.
The playful banter continued for the rest of the flight, with Jungkook finding every opportunity to tease you about your organizational skills—or lack thereof. By the time the plane landed in Las Vegas, you were equal parts annoyed and amused, though you’d never admit the latter.
As you walked off the plane, Jungkook glanced over at you, a smug look on his face.
"Ready for Vegas?" he asked, his grin wide and teasing.
You shot him a look, trying to suppress the rolling annoyance that surged through you. Of course he’d ask that now. “As ready as I’ll ever be. Just try not to get in my way.”
He raised an eyebrow, the playful smirk still in place. “No promises,” he replied, leaning in a little closer, clearly enjoying your irritation. A small sigh escaped your lips as you looked away. Why does he always have to be so... impossible to ignore?
#bts jungkook#bts#bts jjk#bts jk#jungkook#jungkook smut#jeon jungkook#jungkook fiction#jungkook fanfic#jungkook fluff#jungkook x reader#jungkook x you#bts fanfic#bts fic#bts fluff#bts jungkook x reader#bts jungkook fanfic#jeon jeongguk#jeon jungguk#bts jeon jungkook#jungkook headcanons#jungkook imagine#bts imagines#bts headcanons#bts ffs#bts ff#jungkook ff#bts series#jungkook series
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Content warning for gore, blood, burns & body horror.
A king with no crown and a holy fool.
(The element of venom/poison, stabbing/puncture wounds and destruction of a whole body is present in both of their deaths. Kokichi's pristine white clothes also end up being shoved down the toilet, and the poison made it difficult for him to breathe, so there's plausible callback to Miu also. Karma at its finest?)
If I could be the devil, you could be the sinner.
(Don't mind them, they're just spilling their guts)
(...)
(Concepts for scenes from a Gonta-centric survival horror game I'll never make. But it was fun to daydream about - maybe one day I'll finish other sketches and doodles relating to it into a more presentable state. The Cat Lady OST was playing on constant repeat while I drew this - Lily of the Valley, Don't Follow the Light, String, Plainwalker, Early Winter, Storytelling, Susan's Blue Sheep (alone again) - those in particular are now stuck in my brain when I look at those drawings, and what I imagine the "game's" mood to be like, at least the opening segment.)
(I felt both heartbroken and like a monster when drawing this one... But I wanted to draw something that doesn't conveniently erase nor tuck his mangled, swollen face away from view. Sure... in game it looks goofy. But I think mockingly disfiguring him was the point in all of this, too. And given the venom, the Schmidt pain index, how it rates some wasp species, the fact that those robot wasps could be packed with anything necessary really... it had to be awful. Really, every stage of Gonta's execution was excruciating and enough to kill a person on its own, but due to his strength he likely suffered through them all. I remember begging in my head he was at least spared the flame, that he was already gone by this point... But it's foolish to pretend it definitely was the case.)
I wanted to post something new, but I was either busy, ill, or focused on something else, so another sketchdump with oldies and wips it is. This time strictly 2020-21 stuff, drawn during the first few months after finishing the game; mostly to process the post-game/Ch4 sorrows. All very emotionally raw, very edgy stuff that I felt, to be honest, too shy to show before.
Like with any wip I posted before, I do hope to finish some of them properly one day, even though I don't know when. But that's fine, I've signed up for a very long ride with the bug man. Taking it easy is the priority.
Speaking of long-term projects, maybe there's no need to, but I do want to talk about my Gonta fancomic, so here goes.
It's a bit long, so I will continue under the cut.
(Some panel teasers first! ...Gonta sanity fine.)
I took a few months long break from personal drawings - an *actual* break, not just sitting in front of a screen, tired, stewing in guilt that I'm tired, and that I can't magically muscle through burnout, or headache, or exhaustion.
My brain was stuck in a loop of berating myself for underperforming, not doing well enough, for taking so long on "mere" 27 pages, when in the past I could finish a 90-page webcomic chapter much faster. I wouldn't let myself rest, because I didn't do enough; but I couldn't do enough, because I didn't allow myself to rest. And it's been going on for months and months.
What a stupid, unconstructive thing to do to myself. I was only spiralling down, intimidating and overwhelming myself with work on the one thing I specifically wanted to keep doing out of joy, not ambition and pedantism. So I decided to just say "fuck it" and stop for a while. Like, actually stop, do something else and try to feel unapologetic about it.
So I briefly took up sewing, a creative activity I had no personal stake in, and then I started PVP-ing in DS3 (sorry if I happened to kick your butt in there. Rest assured my butt gets kicked just as much), which did wonders, too, as non-artistic pastime.
And, in the end, it seems it worked.
I finally feel this internal drive to draw again. Sadly, I can't spend all of my free time on the doujin (I might need to open commissions soon), so my pacing will still be glacial... But there was an internal change from "I have to, I have to, I must..." back to "I want to". And this is all that matters.
Still, that makes me think... while technically I don't have deadlines, the comic has taken so much longer than I thought it would - and it will take a while still. Thus, I wonder if I shouldn't change my approach re publishing it.
The initial idea was to post it all at once when it's fully finished, but I debate releasing it one page at a time instead, while it's still work in progress.
Thing is, I don't think it would be good for overall pacing. I don't want to sacrifice it, plus I can't guarantee regular uploads, esp since I don't exactly work on the pages in chronological order (While the first page is done, it was drawn after I finished a few in the middle & at the end; and there are still a few important pages/panels in first half I'm a bit too afraid of touching just yet, wanting to do them justice. This is how I work in general, jumping around rather than sticking to overly strict linear order.)
The compromise would be to post like 3-5 pages per post, making it so each upload covers a specific scene, however, same issue arises - I can't promise regular uploads. In the end it feels like a half-measure. But maybe it's a good idea, despite that impression?
There's a secret option, too - if this takes absurdly long, my plan was to just post the storyboard, after replacing some panels/pages with already finished drawings. The thing is readable as is, and long finished on that front anyway. My personal deadline for that was "right before my current lease ends", but, well… I plan on extending it anyway, and again... it's just a back-up option for when everything else fails. In the end, I just want to finish the comic, and present it how it's meant to be presented, however long it will take.
All those things considered, I'll stick to the original plan for now... and then we shall see. I simply wanted to share where things stand currently, and where they might go.
And that's it! If you've read this far, thank you. See you in the undetermined future.
#gonta gokuhara#gokuhara gonta#oukichi koma#ouma kokichi#danganronpa#v3#ouchgoku#ndrv3#ndrv3 spoilers#cw gore#cw blood#cw body horror#cw burns#cw fire#cw injury#cw bug bite#my art#2020-2021 stuff#and also some doujin teasers under the cut#wip#Gonta suffers compilation#with a smidge of music references from my edgy ougoku playlist bc I can't help myself#I need to publish smth happy with Gonta before December ends I ain't gonna end this year on such note for this poor bug boi#even if I have to dig through my old wips again#angst is overrated I need him happy!#as for the doujin#maybe if I don't finish it within a year then i will fall back to the 'just post storyboard' plan or one of the two other options#but I hope it won't take so long - when I work on it it actually goes swiftly but I'm forced to put it away for long periods of time#(In all honesty what I need the most to stay creatively motivated is not inspiration but some stability in life...)
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CAN’T TAKE MY EYES OFF YOU ! ~ JING YUAN . ❛ i want your bliss on bliss; a little company!
˖ ⁺ ⫾ CONTENT WARNING fem!reader ❱ golf dad!jing yuan ❱ dilf!jing yuan ❱ groping ❱ praise ❱ breeding kink ❱ size kink ❱ perv!jing yuan ❱ PWP!!!!! ❱ age gap ❱ cunnilingus ❱ multiple orgasms ❱ pussy drunk!jing yuan ❱ locker room sex ❱ jy’s kinda gross ❱ coercion ❱ creampie & unprotected sex (pls stay safe) ❱ pet names (mostly pretty [girl] & little one ❱ dubious consent ❱ dirty talk ❱ not proofread in the slightest ❱ minors and dc antis do not interact.
˖ ⁺ ⫾ TIP i’ve had this idea floating around in my wee wittle brain for quite some time so here’s perv golf dilf jing yuan ! ! i didnt rlly have a plot for this nor an idea on how to execute the vibe in my mind so truly i apologize if this is not that good :’( this got way messier than intended n i took forever writing it cause i kept getting stuck. i rlly rushed this toward the end cause i rlly wanted to post it so i rlly hope u guys like it 😿 rbs n feedback is always greatly appreciated <33 (pls don’t report i worked rlly hard on this n comm guidelines r so mean)
˖ ⁺ ⫾ GB 7.2k+ words .
JING YUAN CAN’T help it. He doesn't know what drives him to do it; to stare at you until holes are burned in you or touch you carelessly or talk about you like you're a piece of meat, he can't help it. It's akin to a primal urge, or manly instinct that makes him defile you disgustingly and unapologetically—and it makes him feel like a gross teen boy whose dick grows hard at the simple mention of women, but it's something about this aura of naivety and peace that swarms you that brings this carnal desire out of him. You’re the perfect prey, helpless, unsuspecting, and trusting of the ill-intended, hungry predator. Everything makes his heart flutter and his stomach gnarl—he turns into a different man because of you.
Friendly, neighborhood, retired Army General and current Xianzhou Police Chief Jing Yuan was a mask to cover perverse, snobby, and icky pervert Jing Yuan; the one who got a kick at making you do silly tasks so he can stare up your skirt and who always told you to take a seat so he can press up on you and grope you indistinctly. He sees you and immediately a deviant fire is kindled in his chest, his cheeks heat up and his skin runs cold. It's nasty, but he can't help it.
He needs you selfishly. He can't stand to watch you talk to other men and tend to their needs—sure, it's your job to pour them lemonade and escort them to the spa and guide them around the country club for a look at all the activities, and he respects that you're a hard and diligent worker, but seeing you with other men boils his blood. It's as if the lines between reality and his fucked up fantasy world have blurred, and you belong to him, you're his woman and he stakes his claim on you like a wild animal. Jing Yuan likes how you don't question how he suddenly needs your assistance, and that it's impossible for anyone but you to do it, because it lets these other men know that you respond to him. He's never felt this way about a woman before, not even the mother of his own child, so it means you're special. You mean much deeper to him than you could ever understand and all he wants is your company and to love you down into the cage of his heart.
It's not a crime to have a crush. It's not a crime to be in love with a woman you barely know. And it's not a crime to imagine her stuffed with your kids after watching her interact with yours. A crime? No. Weird? Maybe; but Jing Yuan does it anyway.
On the occasion when he brings Yanqing to the club, he gets on his best behavior. They play friendly games of golf and lounge about in the garden area, and eat up a storm in the illustrious dining hall—normal father-and-son things. Nothing out of the ordinary, people wouldn't even know that all Jing Yuan could think about was you and how sweet your pussy must taste as he eats ice cream with his son. He stays on his best outward behavior, truly—you wouldn't have even known he was in the bathroom jerking off because something about you today set him off.
He walks into the dining hall, looking around to see you. Yanqing had run off to the pool ages ago, so Jing Yuan had some time to himself…or, rather, time for you and him. He thought about how he would take you and claim you for far too long now. He thinks about it too much, actually. And that’s insane; considering the fact that you only started working at Stargazer Navalia Country Club two months ago.
He goes to his usual spot: against the wall on the northeastern side of the hall. It's slightly tucked away, the ceiling lights on that side are dim and the roaming eyes of others are limited. It's perfect for him when he touches you and even more perfect to convince you to have a seat and chat with him. You always listen, always fall for his lonely old man act, even though you've seen him with his snob friends Luocha and Dan Feng, and he's more than well-known around the community—he’s far from lonely, but his lips utter such pitiful deception that you can't help but spare him some of your company.
Jing Yuan has been doing this for a few weeks. He’ll invite you over for a refill of the house's special lemonade, sipping the juice as soon as you finish pouring, letting his lips smack obnoxiously, his tongue running across his top lip, and muttering out an “Ahh, so sweet…”, keeping eye-contact with you. His plump, rosy lips will break into a smile at your widened eyes and flustered expression, and that's when he asks you to stay. “Wouldn’t you give me a moment of your time? C’mon…call it…customer service.”
Usually, he’ll sit across from you and ask about your day. He’ll listen to your short spiels about your coworkers or your university and even your extremely personal information about your family and friends. It's cute how you open up with abandon, and he likes how apologetic you get when you feel like you’ve spoken too much. He’ll reach across the table and tap your pouted lips, “It’s okay, sweetheart. Keep going,” and he stares at your lips as you talk his ear off. But today—today, Jing Yuan is pushing the limits.
He invited you over, and instead of you sitting across from him, he pulls the chair next to him. Your proximity is close, no closer than ever before, but close enough that you feel like he can hear your heartbeat. He drapes a buff arm around the back of your chair, the pads of his fingers just barely ghosting over your biceps. He takes a deep breath, presumably to settle into his seat but actually to breathe you in. You smell sweet. He wonders if you taste sweet.
“How was your day?” the man starts. It's okay, it's fine, it’s just Jing Yuan—he’s fine! You nod your head, “Okay…not too eventful but um…kind of busy.” He immediately replies “Yeah? Tell me about it.”
Your shift started at eleven o'clock this morning, and you clocked in slightly late earning your managers, Ms. Yukong, mouthful of scolding. “Again? This is the third time in a row…” She was a strict woman. Yukong was adamant about running an establishment—not a job. In her mind, there's a distinct difference, a fine line that separates Stargazer Navalia Country Club from other leisure resorts, and that line was drawn by poise, professionalism, and punctuation—the three Ps. You essentially lacked all of that. You’re always late, and if you’re not late, you’re just barely making it, you run around a lot and don't collect yourself. Oftentimes, you take on too much than you can handle and overwhelm yourself, making a fool of yourself before the very opinionated eyes of the patrons. And you were clumsy. The country club was your first service job and your first job ever. You wouldn't have gotten the job if your parents didn’t force independence upon you and you complained to your friend, Tingyun, about your unfair predicament, and she promised to put in a good word for you to her boss. That good word was a basket full of fabrications and exaggerations. Yukong told you that you were fortunate to be allowed to work at the club, but it was hanging in the balance if you didn’t step up your game.
Jing Yuan hadn’t expected a full rant, but he was glad that you felt like you could talk to him. He wants to hold you, tell you that Yukong is a miserable bitch and she doesn't know what the hell she's talking about. You can't do any wrong—that woman wouldn’t know poise, professionalism, and punctuation if it slapped her across the face, so who was she to criticize perfection?
He gets even more upset when your chest starts to heave and you’re blinking back tears, explaining how you cried after leaving Yukong’s office and felt so useless and stupid. And you made it your mission today to do your best. No overworking, no clumsiness, and no more strikes earned. Your head was on a dart board, and Yukong was aiming at the bullseye.
You told him you just wanted to be good. To be worth something because you aren't incompetent. If only you knew how he saw you.
Tears run down your warm cheeks and your frowned lips curve into a sad smile, a laugh escaping as you pat away tears from your eyes. “Sorry, I don’t mean to cry…”
“…I should be getting back to work…” You move to get up but Jing Yuan stops you, his big hand on your thigh. This isn't new, but your eyes meet and you almost burst into tears again. Your lips frown up again and quiver and your eyes gloss over—oh, you poor thing. He squeezes your thigh as if to tell you you’re okay, but when that doesn't seem to stop the tidal wave of tears from beating at the barrier of your blinking eyelids, he pulls you in.
It's a hug. You've hugged people before. You do it all the time. Even to him—you’ve hugged Jing Yuan before, but this? This is different. He cradles the back of your head as you rest your cheek on his shoulder and he kisses your hair softly. He’s warm, like the summer heat, and your body feels like it’s on fire. His fingers stroke at your hair as if he was trying to soothe your feelings, and it works, you sniffle and softly whimper, curling your fingers against his thighs. He's taking care of you and if only you could understand what you’re doing to him. His cock is slowly growing stiffer and heat lights beneath his skin as it does yours. You feel so weak and small in his hold and God, is it doing something to him. Your breathing brushes your tits against his side and he wants to feel them pressed against his chest as he pounds into you. Your sniffles and tears that form small puddles on his shirt make him think about how you would cry from overstimulation and his big cock stretching you out.
He needs to get a grip. To stop his gross thoughts but it's no use when your entire existence is an aphrodisiac to him. It was a short hug, no longer than a minute, but it felt like it lasted a lifetime. When you pull away, Jing Yuan can't look at you. He can't look at your flushed cheeks, glossy eyes, clumped lashes, and pouted lips—he can’t look because he won’t be able to contain himself. You clear your throat and sit up, wiping your eyes and smudging your cheap mascara. He’s slightly upset that you’re leaving already, so before you go, he pinches the hem of your shirt, pulling you back.
“It's gonna be okay, little one. Have a good day.” He pats your head and smiles at you. You get flustered and quickly nod, running off as if to disappear.
You find it hard to have a good day when you’re wrapped up in your head, thinking about Yukong, yourself, and Mr. Jing Yuan. He was a nice man, sometimes too nice and you were unsure if that was a negative or a positive.
His touches feel like they’re burned into your skin. When you think about his tight, warm, and world-erasing hug, your skin tingles and births goosebumps to the surface. When you think about his deep, reverberating voice praising you and denying the existence of imperfection in you, you run hot. It’s a dangerous juxtaposition that left you an unfocused mess, productivity being the last thing of your concern. How bothered your body felt was in big bold letters in your brain, and it was hard to not prove Yukong’s harsh words about you right. You needed to get it together, but it was hard when Jing Yuan lingered in your mind like a deadly plague.
You catch Tingyun up during your dishes duty, scrubbing the dirtied plates, bowls, spoons, and forks and passing them to the girl to be dried. She laughs at you, shaking her head as she spins her hand around the inside of the porcelain bowl. “Can I be honest with you?” You nod at Tingyun’s question, “his intentions are less than pure. He’s nice and all but I think you should create boundaries. I don't like how every time you tell me about him he's grabbing on you and stuff…”
You have an issue with seeing the best in people. You can’t see anybody as evil—their actions don’t define their character in your mind and that's a fatal flaw. You shake your head at Tingyun’s words, smiling, “I don’t agree. He’s just…I don’t know.” you shut the water off, and set down the plate in your hand. “I think he’s just lonely—”
“—He has friends. His golfing buds…?” She points out. You sigh and shake your head. “Yeah, but they don't come to the club often.”
Tingyun rolls her eyes. “Can you be for real? What company can you provide to a man who’s nearly double your age?”
On that front, Tingyun had a point. You’re still in college, barely coasting your way through your third year and Jing Yuan is in his mid-to-late thirties, pushing forty. He was a dad and you were a student. He lived his life—he’s on his second career, and you’ve only just barely begun working your first job. You never knew what to talk to him about and you never understood what he talked about. There was a disconnect, but you felt like that didn't impede the slight friendship you had. “He just needs someone to talk to!”
“Didn't know talking included his hands on your ass but okay.” Her snide remark makes you frown. He wasn’t all that bad. Tingyun didn't get it.
Her eyes immediately meet yours and she softens. “Sorry.” You nod to her apology, cutting the tap back on and resuming your work. You didn't like to be judgemental and you wanted to give Jing Yuan the benefit of the doubt. He wasn’t all that bad and you liked him—for the most part. She pats your shoulder softly. She does mean well. “Just be safe, okay?”
“You never know what’s going on in someone's head.”
It’s so hot. The weather forecast called for unbearable heat and ungodly levels of humidity. The sun was angry at the world, shining down harshly and roasting your skin. Surprisingly, the club had seen the most members today. It was filled to the brim, bustling and condensing heat at every corner that you couldn’t escape.
Your uniform was dripping in sweat and it was sticking to your skin. Your hair, pulled away from your face, felt like it was dripping onto your shoulders. You were hot. And luckily for you, Qingque had taken off from work today due to the heat, leaving her shift open. You swooped in and took the role, slipping off your uniform when the clock hit 2:30 and sliding into the lifeguard swimsuit. It was tight fitting but comfortable and paired with the visor blocking the mean sun from your face, you felt fine.
Lathering a security layer of sunscreen onto your skin, you make your way to the pool, reciting Yukong’s words in your head. You had met with her at the beginning of your shift where she told you this was your last chance. Lifeguarding wasn’t some fun easy-money task. Screwing around the way you usually do could be at the cost of someone’s life and she wouldn’t put anyone at risk. At all. So you go with your head up and a warm smile, climbing up and sitting down with a hawk eye on the pool.
The water was clear blue and rippling. Bare flesh and bright swimsuits are blurred and hazy under the surface of the water. It’s a nostalgic scene, sweet chatter and giggles from the playing children, splashing water, and pattering wet feet on the hot pavement work together to induce peace upon you. This is a scene you could get used to, especially when Jing Yuan emerges from the water.
He looks divine. His upper body is exposed, large muscles flexed as he lifts his body weight from beneath the water, resting on the edge of the pool. His water-darkened hair slumps heavily in his ponytail, flipping over as he shakes his head, ridding of the water. And the water spills down his skin deliciously, thick droplets pathing down his body. It’s a sight to behold and you can't help but stare.
Jing Yuan wonders if this is how you feel. Ogled and objectified down to the bone. Your shade-hidden eyes bore into him when they should be watching the children. But he likes it. He feels like today is going to be a good day.
He comes to the pool often, usually just watching Yanqing show him his “tricks”, but he notices the order. The lifeguards cycle every forty-five minutes. He noticed it the first time when one of them took off immediately after jumping in after a panicking Yanqing, but today it was going to come to his aid. Today was the day. He’d waited too long, thought about it too hard…Jing Yuan’s fantasy world was going to pour into reality. That in itself was a terrible horror.
He waits patiently for forty-five minutes. Splashing water with his son occasionally, stepping out of the pool for a rest, or waving at you as he floats atop the water. Forty-five minutes. Tick tock.
He stops you on your way inside. His towel was thrown over his shoulder and his wet hair slung up into his fixed ponytail. You’re so enthralled by his state that you aren't taking into consideration the lazily fabricated lie that he needed your urgent attention to. You were no dummy. Jing Yuan is an overly attractive man, but he was out of your league and the father to a boy only seven years younger than you. Your lives were incompatible and frankly, he wasn't what you were looking for. Attractive? Yes. Boyfriend material? Not so much.
Regardless, you follow him to the locker room to look for his supposed missing watch. You ask him where his locker is located and he points around the corner, “125D.” His locker is tucked off around the corner, deep in the row and far from anyone’s initial line of sight. You see his golf bag resting against the wall and Yanqing’s goggles on the bench and make your way to it, “Where did you last have the watch?”
This was way out of your jurisdiction, and, besides, he was the police chief—what the hell could you do to help him find a missing watch? Nonetheless, you listen intently as he provides the details: he took it off to go swimming, placed it on the shelf in the locker, and came back to find it missing. You nod slowly, diligently looking through the slim locker. There’s not much in it and not much space a watch could slip through, so you’re confused. It's clearly not here. “I don't think I can be much help for you, you’re better off checking with whoever was in here last.”
And then his body is close to you. Your proximity thickens with the chlorine and sandalwood scent he carries, and his broad form towers over you. Your breath hitches and your body tenses as a large hand lays against the back of your thigh, running up your bare skin until it meets the curve of your ass. He doesn't say anything. Neither do you. You feel like you’re frozen, stuck beneath him, and that only urges him further.
His other arm wraps around your waist and he pulls you in, resting his chin on your shoulder and breathing you in with a deep breath. You can feel his exhale on your neck and you shudder, pushing away to create distance. Jing Yuan only tightens his big grip on you, “I want you…” he murmurs, leaning into your neck. His lips ghost over your skin and you squirm, trying to wriggle out of his grasp. This can't be happening. Not here. Not now.
You try to tell him that but it's futile. He presses his slightly chapped lips against your neck in fluttery kisses, wrapping his lips around nips of skin every now and then and leading a path to your collarbone. He steals a look at you from the side, “Tell me you don't want this and I'll stop.”
He now frames your body beneath his, pressing you against the cold lockers. You wince at the harshness of how he handles you—how his hands incessantly run up and down your body and gropes your assets and how he grinds his dick against your ass. He breathes heavily against you, grunting and growling in your ear as he edges himself closer and closer to the brink of losing control.
You try to speak up. To tell him you can't do this and that here is not the place. But you part your lips to object, only for a whimper to escape in its place. You’re shaking your head no but it opposes the sounds that leave you and the subconscious grind back of your hips. Jing Yuan uses his right hand to cup your pussy with a hardened gaze watching your reaction: your eyes widen and then squeeze shut, and you roll your lips inward, pressing them shut. He feels a slight throb when he presses his fingers against your sex, and the heat that radiates from you is all telling. “Stop fighting it…don’t deny it…you need me to take care of you.”
Kisses on your neck resume as he rubs your clothed clit, using the way your knees buckle as leverage to slightly bend your over, grinding into you rougher. “Can't you feel how hard you make me, baby? Fuck,” he whispers, his grinding now turning into desperate rutting. “Indulge me, just a little…say yes…”
You’re shaking your head no, fighting his words. You think that if you close your eyes hard enough you’ll wake up in the real world and this will have all just been in your head. The sight of the lockers in front of you dispels that thought instantly. You fight against your own body, swallowing down the sounds of pleasure that rumble in you at his touch. You promised Yukong you would do a better job. You liked working here. If she found out you had sex with a customer during work hours in the public locker room, she’d have your head on stake. But God, he knew what he was doing. It’s like Jing Yuan knows how to get into your head. All of his innuendos day in and day out, his flirtatious banter, and his wandering eyes the past few months have been test runs on you that he’s conducted for his fucked up memory log. So he could prepare for this moment. So he knew how to make you weak and make you succumb to his advances. You were a nice girl with a hard time saying no. You always indulged his requests and always did what was told to you. His constant “Say yes, baby. Say it. You know you want this,” in your ear was persuasive enough for your weak resolve. Soon enough, you’re quietly parroting his words.
“Y-yes…I…I want it,” you huff out, and he stops.
Jing Yuan lets you go—pulling off of you and spinning you around. Then, he’s swiftly pushing you against the lockers, caging you in with his big arms on either side of you. His golden eyes are richer, darkened with fantasy and lust as they bore into yours. His rosy lips curve into a sinister smirk, “Look me in my eyes and say you want me to fuck you.”
Your eyes meet, locking with each other softly. You’re telling yourself in your head that you can say no, but your mouth moves first, “I want you…to…” you grow shy at the words, and Jing Yuan smiles at you. He steps closer, grabbing your chin softly and your waist with his free hand, pulling you in. “Sweet girl…” he mumbles, brushing his lips against yours and bumping your noses.
Your kiss is sweet. It's the type of fairytale kiss, the type of wonderful kiss that whips the air out of you and has fireworks blowing in your pretty little head. Your lips mold and work together, and he takes his time getting acquainted with your mouth. He waits until you part your lips on your own to invade your mouth, and even then, he tenderly explores the cavern. He kisses you with dominance and experience. He kisses you with passion and desire. He kisses you like he’s in love with you.
You wrap your hands around his neck, pulling him into you, chasing his kiss as if he was trying to leave you. It begins to heat up. Impatience grows like mold between the two of you, you begin to want and need each other more. His hand gripping your chin wraps briefly around your neck to pull you closer, and his hand around your waist moves to your ass, cupping a cheek in his palm and roughly squeezing. He sucks on your tongue, moaning deeply into your mouth. Teeth start to clash and tongues start to bump and spin, spit dribbling out of your mouths. He bites onto your bottom lip as he pulls away, and then catches the drool running down your face with his tongue, running back up on its path to your mouth. With your saliva on his tongue, he kisses you harshly one last time—a kiss that makes you lean your head against the lockers behind you, giving him access to the expanse of your neck.
He admires the hickeys he already left, kissing them tenderly before leaving a few more. His teeth drag on your neck, and he's pulling the straps of your swimsuit down your arms. It's agonizingly slow and you look away, not able to face him as he unveils your body to him.
It's like a dream. Even better than. All of his fantasies and perverted thoughts haven't done any justice to how you look—the most perfect, pretty boobs with hard nipples that are begging to be played with, the most gorgeous frame that pops even more without your clothes, your dips and curves begging to be filled by his grip, and your pretty pussy, which he takes his time getting to and unveiling. He gets on his knees, kisses your soft thighs, and slowly pulls your swimsuit down to your ankles. You try to hide, feeling vulnerable and anxious in your fully naked state but he pulls your legs apart, kissing the inside of your thigh. “You’re beautiful…”
“Prettiest thing I've ever seen…” he says, trailing up your legs. He doesn't give you time to fall into your mind. He exhales deeply, letting the air from his nose blow against your pussy. You squirm but he pulls your legs apart again, looking up at you as he places a chaste kiss on your slit.
You’re already wet, susceptible to his touch, and fragile. You slightly leak past your labia and his lips shine in your slick. Eye contact remains as he licks your arousal off his lips, swallowing your taste with a satisfied hum. “So sweet, too. Better than I ever imagined.”
Something about his admission flusters you. You knew he enjoyed your company, but you didn't know he put thought into you this way. It flatters you, to say the least, and your body responds in a very telling way: your clit throbbing and hole clenching in need.
Jing Yuan smiles at how you can't hold eye contact with him and how you look down at him with urging eyes. Your body gives him the okay your mouth fails to do, and he dives in, wedging his tongue between your folds to lick a thick stripe. You gasp loudly and slam your palm against the locker behind you, seemingly caught off guard by his action. And then he does it again. This time, making his way to your clit slowly, only to circle around the bud but not pay it any attention. And again, this time only lightly flicking your clit with his tongue and ghosting over it but ultimately focusing on collecting your sweet juices, slurping it down with an obnoxious volume.
Your position is fixed—you’re stuck. Your legs are draped over his shoulders as you basically sit on his face, and he holds you tightly by your soft thighs. Your gaze is filed unto each other, unmoving, and he watches with glee at how you react when he finally gives your clit attention. He wraps his lips around the bud, sucking it into his mouth and swirling his tongue around it. You practically burst into tears. You moan out, immediately threading your fingers in his white locks. “Oh, fuck,”
He abuses your clit until your voice goes hoarse. He doesn't care that people could probably hear you. He wants them to. He wants them to hear his name flow from your mouth like syrup out of a maple tree—thick in lust and fatally sweet. Your moans sound even prettier in reality. Jing Yuan has come to the conclusion that you are one of a kind. No wild or active imagination could do you justice. He could eat you out for days—you’re just so sweet and so easy to please. Your clit getting sucked on sets you off and when he runs his thick tongue through your sloppy folds to collect your stream of arousal, you whine even louder, competing with his slurping and licking noises.
“I want you to cum on my tongue, pretty girl,” he says, pulling away from your folds. “Wanna taste all of you,” and he presses a kiss to your clit. You suck your bottom lip between your teeth, nodding rapidly, “Please! Wanna cum so bad…”
He’s determined now. Like a man starved, he practically feasts on you. His tongue is everywhere—licking and swirling from every direction and it drives you insane. You can feel the burning tension in your gut churn and to egg its release out of you, you toy with your nipples, resting your head against the lockers as ecstasy overcomes you. You whine and whimper out meek little “Yes!”’s and “Oh, God!”’s like those are the only words you know, feeling your orgasm so close that it heats your skin to the touch.
Your back arches and eyes blow wide, your body fighting against itself. You trap his head between your thighs but push his head away, damn near screaming at the top of your lungs that it's too much and you can't take it. This pushes Jing Yuan to do more, to tighten his hold on your thighs and suffocate himself in your pussy. Knock the tip of his nose against your puffy clit and probe your clenching hole with his tongue. His jaw hurts but he keeps it up well, humming and moaning endlessly to send warm vibrations through your skin. His name breaks off of your tongue so weakly and your head feels light. It's like something in you snaps, like all composure and decency melts off of you in an instant. You could care less about Yukong or anybody else for that matter. This entire room could cease to exist and it wouldn't matter because Jing Yuan has blasted you off to cloud nine. The feeling of his tongue swimming through your folds is pleasure in its purest form and it pushes you to the deep end, drowning you in overwhelming ecstasy.
The grip you have on his hair tightens and you pull the long locks as if it’d stabilize you from the wreckage your pending orgasm was bringing upon you. A silent moan falls from your lips, followed by an airy plea, “J-Jing Yuan, please..!” Your voice falters and falls into another broken moan. Your back arches yet again and your hips buck into his face, and there it is. That tight band in your stomach snaps and your orgasm wracks through you roughly. Your thighs shake and your chest heaves heavily—you feel like you can't breathe. And he doesn't let up, wrapping his lips around your sensitive clit for the harshest suck of the night, humming happily as you squirm and spasm in his hold.
You come undone, dripping down his face like a rushing waterfall. He cleans you up with his tongue, continuing to help you come down from your high even as you whimper and sniffle from overstimulation. With peppery kisses, he pulls away from your pussy, licking his lips clean and rolling his eyes at your taste. “You did so good for me, baby.”
A carnal glint shines in his eye as he takes your waist in his hands, pulling you into him for a kiss. Your lips connect with fervor. He immediately establishes dominance, invading your mouth with hunger and greed. Your teeth clash and knock and your tongue is bullied by his. Your taste on his mouth is strong and it's hard to ignore it, and on him, it tastes wonderful. Your legs are jelly, useless. He holds you up with his hands but ultimately decides to press you against the lockers once again, grinding his painfully aching hard-on onto your thigh. No. This can't happen. The longer you're in the locker room with him, the more risk that's run. People are going to start leaving the club soon, and you don't know what you’d do if they caught you like this.
You try to push him away but he only presses into you more, rutting against you more desperately and aggressively. You gave him an inch, and now he's going to take a mile.
He growls against your lips before pulling away, resting his forehead on yours. “Gotta have you, baby,” he starts, pulling down his swim trunks. His hard cock jumps out, leaking and hard and so thick it makes your eyes bulge out of your head. You can't do this. You open your mouth to protest but he just kisses you again, shutting you down instantly. He takes your hand in his, bringing it down to his dick, and forces you to hold his girth in your hand. He's heavy and hard. Two prominent veins bulge and throb and his angry tip spills milky beads of precum into a pool in his slit. He makes you jerk him off, groaning into your mouth deeply, “Fuck. Need you so bad, little one. Need your sweet little pussy wrapped around me, need to feel you, to fill you—oh, fuck. Let me? Give me that, please.”
He practically begs you. He ruts into your hand and speaks into your mouth like a bitch in heat—you’re finding it hard to deny him. And he keeps begging. Keeps nipping at your lips and swiping your jaw now and then with his tongue. He's desperate. And you feel like you have no choice. “…Okay.”
Jing Yuan doesn't notice the uncertainty in your tone. He nearly jumps for joy, kissing you so passionately and hooking his hands on your ass, hoisting you up into the air. You squeal and he laughs, kissing you again as he properly positions his tip at your entrance. “Been thinking about this since I first laid eyes on you,”
As he starts talking, he slowly slides you down on his length. You gasp and wince—he’s so fucking big. Your nails immediately dig into his shoulders and you try to brace yourself, but good God, it’s like he’s splitting your body into two. He slowly sinks in, kissing your cheeks and mumbling praises that don't do much to ease the burn of the stretch. You almost want to stop, but he's like a brick wall. Impossible to get through.
“You’re so tight…” He feels like he’s breaking you in. Like you’re untouched and not prepared to take him and it sets him off. Your whimpers are sweet and the way you hug him like you're scared to let go ignites that all-too-familiar carnal flame. He wants to ravage you. It takes a few moments but he finally bottoms out with a deep groan. “So tight…so wet…fuck, it's like you’re made for me.” He does an experimental thrust and his heart swells at how you moan into his ear and clench around him tighter. “Taking me so well,”
This starts a rhythm of slow thrusts, the two of your bodies getting to know each other. Jing Yuan is so big and he feels even bigger inside of you. Your cunt feels like it's being reformed in its shape, stretching around him widely to accommodate every bit of him. And your pussy around him was so worth the wait. Your gummy walls welcome him with a tight, warm hug, and you leak down his length unabashedly. The combination of your arousal and his slow thrusts get you two acquainted quickly, and he steadily starts to pick up the pace.
Jing Yuan has shortly found his rhythm. He thrusts up into you while simultaneously maneuvering your hips down and you’ve never felt anything like this before. He pounds you. Hard. Rough. And slowly gains speed. His heavy balls slap at your ass and your puffy clit kisses his pelvis and it all makes you weak. You bury your head into his neck and pull him closer to you, feeling enveloped in his strong hold. How he's easily able to hold you up and fuck you the way is he makes your stomach churn and knot. There's a rhythmic slapping that coordinates with his grunts and your cries and it's so loud and lewd, you’re sure the whole country club knows what you're doing. But it doesn't bother you. Because yet again, Jing Yuan works your body like an expert, plunging into your depths so well that you can't do anything but clench and drip around him like a broken faucet.
His hands are on your ass, squeezing and slapping your cheeks to make you squeal out, practically yelling his name for the masses. It all feels too good. He knows what he's doing—how to angle his hips and find your G-spot almost instantly and abuse it until you feel like your brain has melted into mush, how to mix the pain of his calloused hands slapping your ass sweetly with the pleasure he bestows upon you, how to sweet-talk into your ear and flatter you so well that butterflies are born in your tummy and your hole clenches even tighter around him. He's experienced. He's taking your body on a trip it's sure to never forget and never replicate, and you wish you knew how he did it, because he’s only been thrusting into you for a few minutes and you feel like you're about to explode.
He's now pounding into you more furiously, and you chalk that up to his orgasm approaching him as well. “I'm gonna cum again—!” you announce, voice low in a broken whisper. His thrusts get sloppy and he grunts to concur, “Me too—look at me,”
Your eyes meet and this might be the rawest moment you've ever had with Jing Yuan. There's nothing but passion and adoration in his golden eyes as he looks at you. And as he kisses you for the nth time this evening, it's soft. Kind. A complete one-eighty from how desperately and angrily he bullies his thick cock into your drooling cunt. “Cum with me.” It's more of a demand than a request, but you nod in understanding anyway. You want to feel him throb and empty out his balls inside you. You want to hear his voice crack and break as he moans out your praises. You want to feel him give it to you until he can't anymore.
He snaps his hips into you, hard and one at a time. He goes as deep as possible, making your eyes blow wide and spill tears. He's so deep in your stomach it's almost like he pops the bubble of your orgasm himself, and you're spilling all over him in a matter of seconds. It was unexpected and you drawl out a whiny moan, grinding your hips back onto him subconsciously. Your orgasm makes him follow suit, and soon enough, you're filled to the brim with his semen. Warm ropes mix nastily with your own release and it drips out of your hole as he continues to thrust through your orgasms.
“Oh shit…’s good, little one.” He kisses your cheek and carries you to the bench, laying you down. “One more for me, ‘kay?”
Your mind is lagging behind. You didn't even catch his statement until he was sliding into you again, pressing your hands against your stomach to feel him inside of you. “So deep…”
“Yeah? Feels good, doesn't it?” He wastes no time, not sparing a second to waste. You're still so sensitive, and so is he, and everything is so sloppy. So messy. Your eyes roll to the back of your head when he finds your sweet spot again, and fuck, it feels so good. “‘M not gonna last…”
Jing Yuan basically crushes you against the hard bench, closing the proximity between you two and harboring the flame between your chests. His head in the crook of your neck shakes, “Me neither. Want you to keep it all in.” His pathetic rutting elicits the wettest sounds from your pussy, and the empty locker room echoes it around with bass. He runs on and on about stuffing you full, fucking his kids into you and you don't know what at what point that started to sound good to you. Your belly rumbled in that all-too-familiar wait, your orgasm wasted no time in building.
Your eyes start to tear even harder and white blotches soon cover your whole line of sight—but not before Jing Yuan stills inside of you, dumping his second load inside of you with a guttural groan and clench of his abdomen. He rubs rough circles on your clit, murmuring about how you can do it until you clench around him, squirming beneath him as your orgasm hits you again. He doesn't pull out. He keeps you plugged up with his cock, forbidding his cum from leaving you. You didn't expect this to happen. Ever. But Jing Yuan? He always knew. It was just a matter of when.
So when your sight returns and you open your eyes to see him leaning over you, you smile happily. It was almost like you're Cinderella and he's Prince Charming, coming to rescue you from your hellish job in the most unconventional way possible. But unconventional feels good.
He won. No matter what he had to do, he won. His fantasy came to fruition and he would rather nothing else. This moment will be forever cherished, even if the distant opening of the door sounds off, and footsteps rapidly approaching bring you back to reality. He won. And nothing, or nobody, can change that. You’re all his now.
#honkai star rail smut#honkai star rail x reader#honkai x reader#honkai star rail#honkai smut#honkai star rail x you#minors & ageless blogs do not interact.#hsr x reader#hsr smut#hsr jing yuan#hsr x you#jing yuan x reader#jing yuan smut#jing yuan x you#☆. on queue#jing yuan#hsr angst#hsr fanfic#jing yuan imagines
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Hi!!! I saw your post about taking some requests so I thought that I'll give it a shot. If it's possible, could you maybe do a Captain Price one? I haven't seen a story about him yet on your page, so I hope that this request can finally add one to your masterlist.
So here it goes: A Price x virgin!reader one. I feel like he's the type of guy to be really gentle and slow when he realizes that the reader is inexperienced, mostly due to his calm and caring nature. But once they start to get comfy, he'll get kind of rough in some way? And aftercare, I just know that this man would be an expert at it. Would help in washing them up in a tub or even cooking them a meal after. I could see that he's also a sucker for cuddles and just being close to them in general.
So yeah, I really hope that you'll consider this request and possibly write something out of it. If not, that's totally okay!!
Side note: I just wanted to say that I love your stories and that it brings me comfort, too:))
I Knew, Sweetheart
A/N: I'm so sorry this is so fucking looonngg!! I just couldn't get it right and I ended up going for "better is more" in the hopes that it'll hide the god-awful writing. :( Anyways, please don't burn me at the stake. It's my first Price fic, and I've still not got his voice or character dialed in. Summary: Reader is Price's gf, and while they've been together for a little while... sex hasn't come up. Nor the fact that the reader is a virgin!. Reader goes about bringing it up a little unconventionally, and things progress. T/W: virgin!reader, fem-reader, NS/FW 18+ ONLY, p-in-v sex, fingering, unprotected sex (don't do that IRL), established relationship, a little bit of an age-difference?, cursing?, first-time anxiety?, aftercare, probably missed something else. proofreading is for people w/ friends of which I have none.
John Price set himself apart from most of the men that he often worked alongside when it came to matters of his personal life and the ways in which he operated. A lot of people would often make jokes, saying it was nothing more than his being an “old man” who couldn’t adjust to the newer ways of life. But fuck, he wasn’t that old when it came right down to it, and yes he liked going along with the traditional ways specifically when it came to relationships, at least when he had the chance to. He’d been a lot younger at one point, not seeing how detrimental his actions could’ve been affecting the women he associated with or spent a few hours in bed with just to leave without another word sent their way.
Captain Price knew he’d made many mistakes when the heart was involved. He threw away a lot of advice he’d been given growing up -some good and some bad- all because he thought he knew better or had enough intelligence to figure it out as he went. Much of that changed when he started realizing that he wasn’t fulfilled in the slightest. For a few years, he was bitter over the emptiness. Not understanding where it came from or how the fuck he could get rid of it. Unraveling layer after layer like a frayed pair of jeans, John kept questioning how he’d come so far just to be that alone. Praying his mistakes hadn’t destroyed his chances of finding a little sliver of humanity outside of his work to motivate him. Keep him sane in the most bitter of hours, and soft when everything and everyone else around him kept adding brick after brick into never-ending, emotionless walls.
Then you showed up out of nowhere, sitting on a barstool in one of the pubs he frequented when he had some time away from his work. Close to home and nowhere near busy enough to call a bar or club; John immediately thought you looked like you’d taken a wrong turn and wound up in an old man’s hangout. It took him a few hours of watching out of the corner of his eye to finally weigh the options of being shot down, or possibly making something out of a whole lot of nothing. His offering to buy you a drink led to taking a few puffs off of his cigar outside. From there he learned just about everything about you within the first few weeks of seeing you or calling here and there.
You liked to talk, a lot. Something John was thankful for since he developed a bad habit of just staring at your pretty face instead of listening like he knew too. Fuck it made him feel ten years younger. And that was something else that made your relationship feel unusual to the Captain. More than six years in age difference didn’t sound all that significant on paper. Yet it was more interesting than either of you thought it would be initially. Aside from just simple pop culture references and enjoyment of music and other low-stakes things, your lives were on different paces. John was stable… at least as stable as his work allowed for. While you’d finally got the job you’d been dreaming of, and hadn’t been working for a full year when you met him. Everything all together challenged John, and you as well, with figuring out what you wanted from each other. How you planned -or wanted to- go about making that happen. And if being serious was something that you shared an interest in.
A few months of going on dates and John walking you home was traded for him sharing half the dresser drawers in his bedroom with you. He was gone nearly all of the time, which put a damper on things but he liked having peace of mind that you were safe and in his home. Besides, it was a short drive from his house to your work and you could stop paying half your paychecks on rent and start saving it up for anything you really wanted. At least… anything John hadn’t already bought or given you. Well… there was one thing John hadn’t given you. And it began gnawing at your mind harder and harder every time he went away for a mission and came home without the slightest inclination to do more than give you a kiss.
John Price still hadn’t asked or hinted at wanting to have sex with you.
At first, you thought it was refreshing. Seeing a man old enough and patient to understand that sex wasn’t just given but earned. Yet every time you thought there would be a moment after a date or a ‘welcome home reunion’ where he’d finally bring up the topic, your expectations fell short. Plenty of excuses floated around your brain, including the more rational ones: he was just very respectful. While others were much more self-conscious and saddening: he was getting it somewhere else, or he could see that you weren’t experienced. The age-old struggle of being a virgin past the age of eighteen.
Too old for half the population, and far too young and inexperienced for the others. Sheltered didn’t describe you. You had toys and knew how to give head as well as having been on the receiving end. But going “all the way” eluded you by some miracle or curse. Looking at John in comparison to yourself was just as attractive as it was intimidating. You knew better than to think he didn’t know his way around the bedroom. He was just too smooth. Far beyond any man, you attempted a relationship previously. You wanted to think he respected you, but at the same time, waiting for much longer for him to make a move just felt like another eternity you lacked the patience and confidence to endure. So after a long night of overthinking and wondering how you could even go about bringing it up, you made a decision that when he got back home from his latest mission, you’d be the one to bring it up.
God your hands were sweating. He was supposed to have been home two hours ago and there was still no sign of his truck in the driveway or a single message from him on the phone you had gripped between your damp palms. Everything had been just fine all day, until the sun began to set over the hillside in the backyard, leaving you less than six hours away from John coming through the door. Worried didn’t even begin to explain how your stomach was tied in knots with a low burning fire in your throat. John had been nothing short of perfect -save for being gone so often- and you knew there wasn’t a single reason for you to be so overwhelmed at the mere thought of being an adult and asking him to have sex with you. Of course… You made up your mind to omit that you’d never done it before and just hoped the Captain would be too preoccupied with something else to notice.
Noticing the details quickly got turned around on you when the front door creaked open on its hinges and you hadn’t the slightest clue that John was standing halfway through the threshold with bags slung over his back and a small look of curiosity on his face. His pretty little thing, sitting on the couch with her arms wrapped around her bent knees and a deep stare somewhere far away from the both of them. He had to admit it wasn’t the first time he had caught you sitting with your eyes “comfortable” as you liked to call it; however, it was the first time he’d seen you wearing something quite that lacy for no damn good reason before.
Some kind of black, strappy, and frilly little number. It hardly left anything to the imagination, and John had to force himself not to go into deep thought about how you’d even got into the thing without instructions. It made your figure that much more eye-catching, and after staring at nothing but rain and mud for two weeks you were a sight for sore eyes. Even a Captain had to admit his biggest weaknesses to overcome himself and improve, but he wasn’t sure in that second if he could ever overcome -much less forget- how divine you looked. Honestly, he didn’t even know you owned it to begin with. But by the way, you kept spinning your phone in your hand, he had the vague gut feeling that you had something on your mind. A little more than dinner or fussing over the possible injuries he could’ve sustained while gone.
“Waiting on someone?” He asked lowly, trying his best not to startle you too much. Right away your eyes locked on his and widened. Almost like a little rabbit cornered by a fox and no hole to scurry into. He watched a flash of sudden panic overtake you and how quickly you reached for one of the throw blankets at the end of the couch to hide behind. Price chewed his tongue, forcing himself not to smirk at you at the moment. Wanting so badly to tease you a little bit for looking so sexy in that bodysuit, but acting nothing short of the little shy church girl getting kissed on the cheek for the first time.
“J-John,” Your voice sputters on his name a bit, forcing a smile to his face. He couldn’t help it after being away for this long without the chance to hear you even over the phone for a few minutes. “You’re home a little late.”
He nods, guilty. “Delayed flight. Weather kept us from movin’ out on time.”
Careful, he dropped his bags off at the front door without the slightest concern about how long they’d sit there. More important things were swirling around in his head. Trying to decipher if you were planning something and just backed out, or if you just needed a little bit of coaxing to not be so shy. Hostage negotiation wasn’t something he thought would ever come in handy when it came to interacting with you, yet John found himself rounding around the chairs on the other side of the living room from you, and planning each step he made to ensure he didn’t spook you. That lingerie wasn’t for nothing, and he desperately needed to know what you planned on doing with it.
He licked his lips, taking a steadying breath. “What’s under the blanket, sweetheart?”
You swallowed thickly, “N-nothing… I thought - I hoped it’d look nice,” Fumbling pathetically for an excuse, you finally spit one out all under the very soft and lightly amused eyes of one John Price. “It doesn’t fit.” The second it left your lips, you internally cursed yourself.
John’s eyebrows raised, instantly grabbing onto that loose thread and pulling on it. “I’m sure you’re wrong about that…” He came closer, standing just in front of you on the couch with his hands on his hips. “Come on, why don’t you let me have a look? I’ll give you a second opinion.” His words made your heart stutter, and you weakly shook your head in response.
“I should just return it.” You mutter, scooting over to the side of him and attempting to sneak off with your protective blanket.
You’re not even close to getting away from John when he chuckles, one arm curling around your shoulders and the other getting a firm grip on the material you’re hiding under. Naturally, you don’t exactly fight to get away. But a furious blush breaks out over your cheeks and neck, feeling the preverbal trap tightened around your throat. He’s turning around and sitting down on the couch with a nonnegotiable silent order for you to take a seat straddling his lap. That alone is enough to drive you up a wall with anxious feelings. Not that you’d never sat on his lap before -actually it was quite common- but under these circumstances, there was a lot more than just a little bit of heat passing between the both of you. Very slowly, John found the edge of the blanket and slipped a hand under, searching out for your skin and eventually landing on a little bit of the lacy material stretching in a high cut over your hip. You can actually see his eyes darken, tracing along the hemline and mentally picturing what was under his fingers. Touch alone was making you squirm, avoiding eye contact and trying to keep quiet so as not to embarrass yourself even more than you already felt.
“Oh, sweetheart… fits like a fuckin’ glove.” He whispers lowly, hand palming your asscheek and toying with the thin little string that disappeared into the cleft.
“It’d be a shame for you to get all dressed up… go through all this trouble… then not let me see your hard work.” His voice lulled slow and steady, swaying your fears just enough for you to feel your head nod up and down a couple of times before letting the blanket fall off your shoulders and pool on Price’s lap. The front of the bodysuit had been well-hidden up until now, with you sitting so lady-like in his lap. But the thin straps just crossing around your tits and holding them up without a single stitch of material covering them totally, John thought he’d been shot right through the chest. Between the innocent look in your eyes, and that damned outfit making you appear about as sinful as hell, he couldn’t keep from letting out a low growl and squeezing your ass just hard enough to make you gasp.
“This is what you were trying to hide?” His breathlessness couldn’t be masked, nor could the frequent shift in his eyes between your practically bare chest and eyes. John chuckled, hands drifting towards your hips and up to rest on each side of your ribs. Pushing your tits together just a little bit, almost bewitched by the sight of you like that on his lap. “Oh, you’re such a pretty girl…” He muttered, almost to himself.
Shifting in his lap, you tried to keep your growing arousal and nervousness under control. Each touch set you on fire, and with John moving this slow you couldn’t be sure you’d live long enough to see another day. It was too good feeling a man actually appreciated a woman in front of him. Not just finding the small bits and pieces he preferred and overlooking the rest. You knew being nervous was natural, but the more John rubbed and soothed, it was getting harder and harder not to whine or ask him for just a little bit more to satiate you. Right away, John’s eyes darted up to you, and something you couldn’t quite describe flashed through his eyes just long enough for him to lip his lips and sit up a little straighter, pulling you to sit straddling just one of his thighs.
“I think I know what you want, sweetheart.” He smiled so damn affectionately that it made your heart jump. “But just so I know… why don’t you go ahead and tell me, that way I don’t miss anything. I don’t like to disappoint.” Toying with the zipper of his sweater, you suck in a nervous breath to steady your nerves.
“I want you to, have sex with me.” You hardly whisper the second part, still drawing your own attention towards anything minute that could serve as a focal point with your body shaking so badly.
“Hmm…” His thoughtful hum sends shivers up your spine, and the feeling of his hands massaging your hips makes it hard to breathe. “So I was right,” A smile crosses his face. “Well then, how about you go ahead and take care of this.” He growls a little, his fingers slowly tracing over the barely-there strip of fabric covering your core, already soaking wet with your arousal. Your little moan slips out before you can even try to cover your mouth, and John’s fingers slip away like he was purposefully trying to be mean and deny you a taste of relief.
“John, please…” You whimper, hands resting on his shoulders hoping he’ll take mercy on you.
He just shifts down to rest against the couch a little more and bounces his knee a few times, sending jolts of extreme sensation right up your clit into your lower stomach. You didn’t get it at first… what he wanted you to do. But now you did, and John almost grinned when he saw the realization, followed by the shy look you gave him. Encouragement was needed, and he was more than happy to deliver. Slowly rocking your hips back and forth along his pants, purposefully having settled you on the side that his thigh-holster was strapped to, adding two extra ridges that instantly began working to overstimulate you. It was too good, and not enough. Pushing your inhibitions just a little further out of focus and forcing you to really focus on how nothing more than his thigh was getting you to a release quicker than any toy or trick you’d tried on yourself. Impeccable alone, it was his low voice right in your ear that made everything outside of John Price holding you on his lap disappear.
“Doin’ so good, sweetheart…”
“Making me feel bad for not helping sooner… If I would’ve known how needy you were.”
“That’s it, love. Keep going, want you to let go. Right on my lap, then I’ll take care of you.”
His lips suffocated your moans and whimpers, swallowing each little pleasure and claiming it as his own. John hadn’t taken his time like this in years, but damn it was special seeing you -his pretty little thing- so needy and whining his name. So sensitive to the texture of his cargos that he was actually wondering if you could withstand something more… purposeful. God, he hoped you could. He wanted to tase you so bad after feeling just how wet you were. Fuck, even the dark khaki color of his pants was getting darker with each little jerk and grind of your hips. Thighs twitching and clenching around him like you couldn’t get the right angle, and were slowly getting more pathetically and innocently frustrated. He needed you hungry though… wanted to ensure that this was done properly. And if it meant withholding from you just enough to make sure you were desperate, he’d bite back every urge he had to give you everything right away.
John knew right away that you were a virgin. Either by just his ability to read people or by the way that you didn’t particularly use sex appeal to draw him in right when you first met. You weren’t innocent of how you looked though, and always dressed and acted much to the benefit of being seen as the valuable woman Price always believed you to be. Yet it didn’t escape his curiosity as to how you’d been able to slip through the grasps of so many disrespectful and predatory men who would’ve done anything to have taken their chance at you. Fuck, he was thankful beyond belief. He hated thinking that you could’ve needed to experience pain or discomfort at any point… but he never asked you simply out of respect and the knowledge that at some point the topic would come up. Only, it didn’t come to fruition quite like he expected. In fact, he never imagined that you’d had your first orgasm with him riding his thigh while sitting on the couch in his house. He wouldn’t change it for a goddamn thing, though.
In the moment, he’d wanted nothing more than to hear you. After hearing so many little whines and pleas for his help, he knew you’d sound so beautiful. But his own intentions fell to desire when he crashed his lips to yours, taking those cries of pleasure for himself. There would be plenty more to come for him to bask in the sound of. The first one though? He needed it. It was his to taste and keep forever. Alongside the taste of your pleasure, he relished in your shaking legs and the harsh bite of your nails digging into his shoulders hard enough to feel through two shirts. He felt your desperation just as deeply as his own, and while his cock straining against his zipper was not totally lost to his attention, John could easily stave off his own needs to make sure you were satiated just as thoroughly as deserved for coming on his pants like the good little things you always were.
“Good girl… You did so good for me, sweetheart.” His rough voice rumbled against your ear as his kissed you softly.
Petting your hair and rubbing his other hand down your quivering thigh. As much as he wanted to keep you right here and not disturb your come-down, he wanted you in bed. Needed to see you laid out like he pictured when jerking his cock after weeks of pent-up stress needed a release. Fuck he wanted to take you slow in his bed and wake up in the morning with you wrapped around him and the smell of sex on the sheets. Before you could really even catch your breath, John had you spread out on the bed with him staring down at you almost astonished. You were just as affected, seeing the heavy outline of his dick parallel to his zipper and ending just at his belt. His eyes caught your lingering, and he chuckled, biting his tongue with his back teeth before squeezing himself and shrugging like it wasn’t the hottest thing you’d ever seen him do. The little gasp you let out only gave him that much more confidence to keep teasing you as much as he’d been.
Slowly, painfully, stripping off one piece of clothing at a time and letting it drop to the floor. Eyes locked on yours like he was getting off to how you reacted to each little inch of skin that was bared to you. If you didn’t know better, you would’ve thought he enjoyed all of the attention on him. When in reality, he was just mesmerized by how in awe you were of him, looking like a war-torn soldier with his scars and hardened body. You were holding your breath for the moment he pushed his underwear down off his hips, standing downright predatory with his fist tight around the base of his thick and glistening cock. If you ever had a moment of hesitation about doing this with John, they dissolved in that single moment. Because your next movement was to reach your hands out, wiggling your fingers for him to come closer.
“What would you like?” He asks, coming to stand at the foot of the bed just out of your reach.
“You.” You answer a little plainly, making him chuckle.
“Not quite specific enough, sweetheart.” His eyes drop to your body hugged in that black outfit and he bites at his cheek. “But as much as I love you in that, I’d like to see you take it off.” A very easy request. Had it not been for your inability to reach the little snap at the back that kept you tied into all of the lace and straps. So, you very politely raised up and sat on your knees with your back to John and gave him the sweetest look you could manage.
“Give me hand, Captain?”
He nearly ripped the fucking thing off.
The moment he had your seduction tactic of clothing balled up in his fist, he felt the first little surge of his common sense holding him back a little bit. Base instinct screamed for him to sink into you as quickly as possible. But feeling your hands rub over his chest and your shy little kisses to his neck reminded him of circumstance. Pinned against your belly, his cock twitched in response to your teeth grazing accidentally over his collarbone. You were about to whisper an apology when John wrapped a hand around your throat to tilt your head up and suck hard just under your jaw. He liked when you did that… The thought gave you a little bolt of satisfaction. One that progressed into your hands sliding down his stomach until your fingers curled around his thick shaft, earning a warning sound of a moan deep in his chest.
“So fuckin’ soft…” He murmured against your shoulder, kissing it hotly and slowly rocking his hips against your hands. Teasing himself. Edging closer to try and raise a little bit of resistance so he wouldn’t spill his load on the bed long before he was damn well ready. Your silky little hands spreading his arousal over his length only lasted for a few minutes before John was pulling you away with heaving breaths and a flush breaking out over his cheeks.
“Too much?” You ask a little giggly when he lays you back and crawls up to kneel between your spread legs.
His reaction is one of raised eyebrows and a devilish kind of smile that makes you feel like you just made a little too accurate of a joke to be laughing. John gives you a little warning ‘tsk tsk’, shaking his head like he could try and hide the lust and affection swirling in his dark eyes at the sight of you giggling, and all spread out for him like a five-course meal the Queen of England couldn’t afford to buy. A wiser man might’ve believed himself worthy of you, enough that his dirty hands could touch you and try to give you pleasure in the way they assumed to know best. Yet John leaned over you with the knowledge that he was one of the most unworthy men on the planet, and you had so much grace and love inside of you that it didn’t matter. One little touch and you could cleanse him of every blood stain he’d not been able to clean or sinful act of revenge he couldn’t resist committing. Above all else, you’d decided in all your innocence of the world that you trusted him with your body as much as you’d already handed over your heart and mind.
John kissed you. Hard. With everything he had to offer in return for the invaluable
With that, he’s, hauling you up against him. He wants you laying right on top of him so he can sleep soundly with you right against him. He’s very quick to give you more praise and ask again if you’re feeling okay mentally and physically. You mention feeling just a little insecure, despite all of his very purposeful care throughout the whole process, but Price won’t have it.
Right away he’s kissing you softly, hands rubbing over your back and butt affectionately. Letting you know just how special he feels that you trusted him, as well as just how lucky he was to find someone like you in the first place. Holding the back of your head and gently cradling you against his lips; Tongue licking into your mouth and groaning softly when you mirror his movements, even going far enough to nip at his tongue. Using that same little hint of him enjoying your teeth on him. Just like before, you’re met with another warning sound of a growl, and John is pulling back and moving his head between your legs with a careful watch on your reaction.
“Can’t wait any longer, sweetheart.” He kissed your inner thigh sweetly. “Please let me taste your sweet little pussy.”
His words shock your body, and your head falls back with the little bit of erotic pleads overwhelming you. God, it was making you drip onto the sheets feeling him so close yet waiting for your answer. Pathetically, you couldn’t get the word ‘yes’ out of your mouth for a few long minutes. Just enough time for him to lovingly suck bruises onto your inner thighs and mean you scream out his name, squirming under his hands to try and get some real relief.
John takes pity on you, stopping long enough to let you catch your breath. “Come on pretty girl. Just say the word… I’ll make you feel so fuckin’ good.”
“Yes, yes, yes… please. I need more!” Your airy pleas fall like angel’s trumpets on his ears, as his mouth descends hungrily onto your cunt.
Licking through your slick folds and growling your own name back against your core with the sweet and alkaline flavor. Your hips buck up and you cry out, feeling his tongue lash over your clit for the first time and right away he’s got one forearm over your hips to hold them steady with the other hand held tight with his fingers intertwined with yours. His mustache tickles against your skin and you can feel him resting his head against your thigh, almost like he’s getting comfortable for an extended stay with his tongue in your cunt.
Another orgasm is ripped from you without warning less than ten minutes into John’s unyielding assault on your sensitive clit. And it’s this time that John ensures your thighs can’t wrap around his head for the sole purpose of hearing your loud and raw scream of his name. Blissed out, and shaking once again, John smiles against your pussy; Lapping up any remaining release he’d missed mere seconds before and feeling the dull pressure of your heels digging into his back.
“God, you’re so good for me sweetheart,” His praise blows cool air over your folds and you jerk a little, whining when you feel his lips return back down to you. Slowly, teasingly, he began all over again just as he did the first time.
It takes a couple seconds for you to realize he doesn’t plan on stopping. But when you do, crying for him to stop when he begins using his thumb to tease your clit while his tongue fucks slowly in and out of your clenching hole. John almost laughs, darkly and amused with your little cries and moans. Feeding off of your pleasure just to give it right back to you in the direct motivation of making you come on his tongue and fingers this time.
“F-fuck - John! Sh-shit,” Your stuttered voice falls into an unabashed groan when he teases his finger at your entrance, and slowly slides it deep into your fluttering pussy, squeezing around it tightly. Hungry for more, and weeping with each small curl of the digit hitting on your upper wall.
Your eyes roll back, and you attempt to push John’s head back to try and ease the stimulation, just to feel his hand holding you back and in place. It’s maddening, feeling so good that it’s almost bringing tears to your eyes, having already come twice -more than you typically gave yourself- and no sign of him letting you escape.
God, John was pushing you to the boundary of everything you knew about your own body, as well as giving you the first, raw, experience of just how good sex could be. Lifting your head up just to try and get a small glance at him, you catch the sight of his eyes, fiery and intense looking right back up at you with your own come soaking his mustache and the entire lower half of his handsome face. You clench around his digit again, being pushed that much closer to the edge just at the visual alone.
Your third release came as quickly as the first two, this time resulting in the delicious stretch of John’s three fingers pumping in and out of your cunt, literally slurping up your release; Almost dragging it out of you like he couldn’t stand the thought of not swallowing every drop. He whispered your name so gently as he came to rest on his forearms overtop of you, kissing your forehead with his wet lips and feeling his hair stick against your sweaty forehead.
“Sweetheart…” his tone had softened to the smallest whisper you’d ever heard from him. “Are you sure you want this? We can stop here if you’d like.”
Opening your eyes to see his handsome face and the slight of his hair in a total mess, you knew getting away with not mentioning your lack of experience was impossible. Your John… wasn’t nearly as unobservant as you’d wanted him to be. Without more than a tired little smile, you nodded. Raising your head weakly just far enough to kiss him gently, tasting yourself against your lips and feeling the slight quiver of his breath.
“Please, I want this. I want you John.”
Initially, no matter how much he’d taken care to prep you there was still a deep stretch as his thick cock began slowly entering you. Sweetly, he worked you through each little discomfort, giving you kiss after kiss and running his hands through your hair. Distracting from the little sting that had never been present with your toys, and praising you until his hips pressed flush against yours.
“Fuucckkk yes,” Price couldn’t hold back the loud groan as he looked down to see your pretty little cunt taking every last inch of his dick and squeezing so hard he could barely think straight.
“Takin’ my cock so good… Such a pretty girl, my good little thing…” His murmurs and curses slowly devolved the further you progressed.
Your body slowly adjusted to the intrusion and the gentle thrusts John made the moment you began squirming and pleading with him to move through your little hiccups. The unusual feeling of John moving inside of you slowly began to coax moans and praise from your mouth every time the crown of his cock rubbed deep against a swollen, textured, spot inside of you that built up pressure so quickly that you needed to wrap your legs around his hips to keep them from shaking uncontrollably. Each stroke got harder and harder, with John eventually pounding his cock deep inside of you, moaning and using one arm to wrap around your waist to hold your lower body still so he could bring both of you closer.
“J-John…” Your voice jolted with each snap of his hips as you tried to warn him.
Feeling that familiar yet almost destructive power of another climax rushing through your lower body. Convinced you didn’t have enough left in you to come again, you felt tears pricking your eyes, overwhelmed with immense pleasure skyrocketing you towards a final orgasm you kept denying until John’s fingers reached between you and expertly began rubbing tight circles around your clit, violently tossing you into whited-out vision, and muted hearing.
Above you, John found his own release and shared it at the same time as yours. Fisting the bedsheets to keep from grabbing ahold of you too tightly and bruising you; his cock getting squeezed so tightly from your climax that it was almost painful to stay seated inside of you. With so little arm strength left, he fell nearly full-weight on top of you and only propped himself up by his elbows to keep from suffocating you.
Utterly wrecked, and feeling more than you’d ever experienced more than you’d felt in your life, it took minutes before you could open your eyes and actually have enough of the mental capacity to realize that John was gently stroking your head, kissing your forehead and your nose, and holding you tightly to him as the strong muscle jerks and twitches in your body began to die out.
“You here with me?” Low and comforting, you smile dazedly with your eyes heavy and trying to focus on him.
You merely nod your head yes and give what you assumed was a ‘mhmmm’ but might’ve sounded more like a small animal being choked or drowned. Naturally, John’s lips spread into a very happy and amused smile, cupping your cheek with his hand and pressing a kiss to your lips softly.
“Come on, sweetheart…” John whispered, pulling your head up to his chest and gently easing himself out of you with a low sigh.
You’re once again lifted up and whisked away, this time, into the bathroom just off to the side of the bedroom where John carefully sits you down on the edge of the bathtub and starts running hot water with the lights dimmed low. Certain he’s got everything for your bath within your reach and the water is high enough for you to really sink down into in and relax, he gives you a soft kiss and promises to return after just a couple minutes.
He returns before you even work up the desire to wash your hair, and immediately takes over the task of getting you cleaned up himself. In between the lulls of soaps, and conditioners, John will pose quiet questions, asking how you’re feeling and wanting to know if there was anything that hurt you physically or was bothering you mentally. His care was intense and very personal, giving you much more confidence and comfort after having such a draining experience. Of course, you felt fantastic throughout, but when he asked if you were tired, there was a feeling that he already knew you were and expected you to tell him how he could best support you.
Other than letting your head rest against his chest. Leaving not one inch of your body neglected, from your face to your feet. Throughout the process you watch through sleepy eyes, seeing a very peaceful sort of look on his face while soaping you up and helping you rinse off and step out of the slippery bathtub into a warm towel you could only assume he’d thrown in the dryer just for your comfort.
Holding the towel around yourself, you peck him on the lips and smile, too tired to really say anything of real value. However, you’re certain John understands by the way his arms wrap you up and hold you tight to his bare chest while running his fingers through your wet hair, helping get out some of the little tangles your conditioner couldn’t quite take care of alone.
“I love you, John. More than anything.”
He drops a kiss on top of your head, rocking your weights back and forth in the dimmed light of the bathroom. Admiring your little form in the darkened silhouette of his much larger one.
“I love you too, sweetheart.”
“You’re my best friend.”
He chuckles, finding that so very endearing.
“You’re mine too.”
yeah... the "you're my best friend" part, me and my husband do that <3 so.... that's a thing.
#john price#captain john price#captain price#mwii#cod mwii#john price x reader#john price smut#captain price x reader#captain price smut#velvetures#velvetures writes#velvetures answers#cod#anon <3
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Hi! I recently saw W2H2 part 1 and I must say it’s pretty amazing! Even better then the first one (which I loved btw), I know you anticipated that it wouldn’t have been full done, but I still wished the animation and the coloring were completed, like the first short. Nevertheless It has its charm anyway so good job, still amazing as always ! I just wanted to ask a few questions about Mephistopheles:
1) Is Mephistopheles actually capable of being evil and doing evil things as well ? Is he the type of guy that is usually pretty chill but can get REALLY angry if you piss him off? At the end of the first act, he said to Sock that he would fired him if he didn’t complete the job… did he mean literally “to fire him” (like burn or hurt him), or just meant “fired from the job” without causing him any harm? I am very curious about this character, I find him pretty charming and interesting! (I also love his character design)
2) How long will it be before the second and third parts of W2H2 release more or less (Months, years…)? And how long each part will be? Don’t wanna put preassure on you ofc , I’m just curious but I will be patient if that’s the case!
Thank you for this amazing little cartoon! I really love the plot and the characters and I look foward to see more! I hope you’ll reply soon and thank u again <33 (also sorry for my bad english but I am Italian eheh)
haha... yeah I'm getting that comment from a lot of people. But idk, when I look at the first short it looks pretty incomplete to me! Like to me, I think having better animation and less color is a decent trade-off, but I guess for a lot of people the color really did a lot of heavy-lifting. Anyway, I know it's a little disappointing, but my options were "call it good enough and post it", or "drive myself crazy working on it until I die", I know that sounds dramatic, and maybe I could've forced myself to finish at least throwing color on it, but I don't know, I didn't want to start resenting the thing I'm supposed to be passionate about. I kinda put myself between a rock and a hard place, didn't I? Sorry for the rant! I'm glad you enjoyed it anyway, haha. UHHH on to questions! 1. Mephistopheles is complicated. Or at least, I think he is, and I'm trying to figure out what that balance is. (I have an entire wordpad file full of notes/thoughts on Mephistopheles from one of my friends who's given a surprising amount of thought to the morality of the character that I'm gonna have to reference moving forward, haha). But as for my original thoughts on the character--- I don't consider him evil, but I think he's capable of doing things we would call 'evil', just like any human is. And like humans, he can be motivated by flawed, negative thoughts and feelings; spite, revenge, jealousy, whatever. But unlike humans he exists outside of space and time, and he's not a human himself, so his perception of morality is just different. The "you're fired" comment is meant to be a little confusing... like, you come to expect these stupid hell jokes from him, but then he clarifies "that wasn't a pun". And he's the devil, so maybe he's not joking. He COULD condemn Sock to hell. So that's the stakes of the story! If Meph is serious, Sock could be in a lot of trouble. We're not sure exactly how lenient he's going to be, or how trust-worthy he is. He's the devil! Toying with people is kind of his whole thing! haha. 2. It's not gonna' be another 10 years, that's for sure!!! Most of Part 2 is already rough animated (at least as much as Part 1 has been). There's still... one or two scenes that need more animation, and pretty much every shot of Shadow!Jonathan still needs to be done. It also needs more backgrounds, but there's FEWER backgrounds in Part 2 (Hell is just a re-usable Shadow-Realmy-y void), and a lot of the stuff from Jonathan's house can be re-used with different lighting. I'll have a better idea of the timeline once I sit down and crack it open again... and it's about to get kind of busy with the holidays and all, but it should be finished some time next year! Hopefully in the first half of 2025! I'll try to keep everyone posted. Anyway thanks for your questions! Hope this helped!
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[Re: Twitter Cancellation Ask Game]
Anons are live for this!! If everyone behaves, I may keep them on. Answering these in bulk for less spam.
Content Warning: Long.
@starlit1daydream
It's true. I don't even know what there is to defend about them. Not as in I can't see any reason to enjoy their characters - one could theoretically count me as a fan of all three of them, just not in a fandom way - but as in I literally don't know what kind of mental gymnastics people could pull to say they're good, defensible people. I know for Rufioh, it's that He's Hot and Damara Bad, but that doesn't compute in my head as a logical reason, even if it is a tangible and consistent one. There just isn't any math there. Kankri and Cronus aren't ever given consistent reasons for defense, so they're even more incalculable than Rufioh. Cronus is also given the He's Hot reason despite literally not being even remotely attractive, Abusiveness Aside. Fucked.
@time-was-over
People are mad at me about this consistently and I truly cannot think of a single thing more juvenile and liberal to be mad at. Never am I given a good reason to change my mind on Shipping Culture and Fandom being plagues.
"It's deeply misogynistic" gets the response of "Yeah <3" "It's deeply homophobic" gets the response of "Nuh uh! You're just saying that because you hate gay men, you homophobe!" "It's deeply aphobic" gets the response of, again, "Nuh uh! You're just saying that because you hate gay men, you homophobe!", but with added "God, I hope you kill yourself you fun-hating puritan." Lol!
Shipping Culture is a disease and I hope to see it get dismantled in my lifetime. This shit fucking sucks. Not a single brain cell is involved in it. Some of the most bigoted slop in the world is ejected from its gullet.
@memeticexistence
I don't think I have particularly hot takes about Eridan, I just don't woobify him because I do not crave to turn a genocidal incel into a perfect little pretty anime yaoi prince, and I frankly think it is weird how many people do that to his character. There's a lot being said with Eridan's existence, and it all seems to have flown over 99% of the fandom's heads because some people won't keep their dick in their pants about a 13-year-old alt-righter with Harry Potter inspiration plastered all over him. I do not particularly know what you mean by "Jane Truther". What is there to make conspiracies about regarding Jane's character? I don't post about her very often.
Classic. I have gotten yelled at about this on Tumblr as well. I have gotten yelled at for this several times. It's really cool, the way the particularly fandom-brained think. Misogyny is Good if it's a part of the method you Consume Content.
They are burning me at the stake for this daily. They're calling me Crispy Jim now, on account of the burnings. I look like beef jerky with limbs. Sad!
Tumblr has called me homophobic! Several times! Mostly because I said I don't really like DirkJake. Or shipping culture. I'm a grown ass aromantic man who likes horror, I do not want or need countless images of two teenage boys kissing fervently to feel represented. I have options. I can just watch a damn horror movie. Or Dragon Ball Z, or some other anime. Dragon Ball Z never fails me when it comes to aromantic homoeroticism between adult men. Horror movies also never fail me when it comes to homoeroticism between adult men. There are just more options in this world than fanfiction and fanart of teen boys kissing. I don't need it. It just makes me feel like a creep by looking at it half the time. God damn.
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hey, can I request kylian's dating a supermodel and she's modeling for savage x fenty so when her pics and videos of the show get posted online, his teammates jokingly mess with him to try to make him jealous but instead kylian just gets all smug bragging about his gf 😏 he's still lowkey jealous tho but only hakimi or ney notice bc of how well they know him 😂
𝐉𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐥𝐲 | 𝐀 𝐊𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐌𝐛𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲
𝘗𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴: Kylian Mbappe x Female Reader
𝘈𝘶𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘴 𝘕𝘰𝘵𝘦: YAAAY FINALLY MBAPPE RECOGNITION !!!! Mbappe and NeymarJr deserves more requests !! My babygorls <3 Sorry if this is a bit short, as I wrote this specifically in response to your request rather than constructing a "story-like scenario" because I wasn't sure how to build up to this point. c:
I Hope you like how I represent your idea ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚!!
(っ◔◡◔)っ ♥ REQUESTS ARE OPEN ♥
Kylian Mbappe is a young and talented French soccer player who has been making waves in the world of sports for many years now. Recently, he has been in the headlines not just for his skills on the field, but also for his relationship with supermodel, Y/N. When his girlfriend's pictures and videos from the shoot were posted online, his teammates couldn't resist teasing him to try and make him jealous.
The team is currently unwinding and rehydrating in their locker room after practice, waiting for the team manager to arrive and speak with them as he promised to do later. Sergio Ramos stumbles onto a Savage x Fenty advertisement while relaxing and scrolling through Instagram. He smirks as he realizes that you, Mbappe's girlfriend, are the lady in the picture. Other than Hakimi, you haven't met the team yet because your modeling schedule prevents you from attending his games. Yet, he always shares pictures of the two of you online, so it's clear that he knows you exist. "Watch this," he murmurs, nudging Kimpembe. “Damn Kylian, is this what you'll be seeing when you come home?,” Ramos says while glancing at his phone. Kylian raises his eyebrow in confusion. Ramo flips the phone around so that the other teammates can view in addition to Mbappe. It's a picture of you on a bed wearing red lingerie for the brand. Kimpembe, who was aware of his plan, joined in by saying, "Y/N is fine as ever, why don't you let us meet her?" Verratti throws his arm around Mbappe and pokes his cheek while saying, "It's because he knows I can take her away,"
Mbappe felt a burning anger rise inside him as he listened to his friends hitting on his girl. He could feel their eyes lingering on her body, their words dripping with thinly veiled flirtation. It was enough to make him want to lash out, to tell them to back off and leave her alone. But he knew he couldn't do that. He couldn't let his possessiveness show, not in front of his friends. He had to keep up appearances, had to act like it didn't bother him, even though it did.
As he releases Verratti's arms, Kylian makes a phony laugh, saying, "She has a height restriction, you have to be 5 '10." Verratti, who is barely 5 feet 5 inches tall, playfully pouts and walks away. The boys laugh as Kimpembe says, "6' 0 is better thought," and daps up Ramos as they are the same height. They were all taken aback by Kylian's response, though. Instead of being unhappy, he grinned from ear to ear and began boasting about how gorgeous and wonderful his girlfriend was. Kylian shakes his head and says, "She's so beautiful right? I can't take my eyes off of her that's why she hasn't come around during the games ," maintaining his phony smile. He tried to focus on other things, to distract himself from the uncomfortable feeling that was building inside him. He laughed at their jokes, made small talk, and tried to act as though everything was normal. But it wasn't. He felt like his friends were trying to stake a claim on something that was his, and that made him feel vulnerable. It was one thing to be jealous of a stranger, but when it was someone he knew, someone he trusted, it cut deep.
Once more, Sergio torments him, "You need to bring her next game so she can meet me. I'll show her what a real man is like."
“Trust me. You can't handle her like I can," he remarks, hinting at something sexual. Despite his smugness, Kylian was still secretly jealous of all the attention his girlfriend was receiving. He didn't like the fact that his teammates were constantly talking about her, but he didn't want to let them know that it bothered him. Only his best friend Hakimi noticed that Kylian was feeling a little lowkey jealous. Hakimi knew Kylian so well that he could see the subtle changes in his friend's behavior.
Hakimi tries to divert the conversation by saying, "You are so focused on Y/N like you did not get nut-megged and scored on by Neymar during practice." He did so successfully as everyone started to laugh and point at Ramos, some of the players even walked up to him and slapped his head. Mbappe was aware of Hakimi's actions and mentally praised him. Mbappe didn't want to seem possessive or insecure. He wanted to be the confident, easy-going guy that everyone knows him to be. So he kept his feelings to himself and tried to be the bigger person. He knew that his friends didn't mean any harm, that they were just being friendly and playful. But he couldn't help feeling like they were crossing a line.
You have always loved Mbappe's extreme possessiveness toward you. If you had been in the locker room, you would have been impressed by his ability to control his emotions.
#kylian mbappe#kylian imagines#kylian x reader#mbappe x you#mbappe one shot#mbappe x reader#mbappe imagine#kylian mbappe x you#kylian mbappe x y/n#kylian mbappe x reader#mbappe fanfic#mbappe fluff#mbappe psg#mbappe icons#football imagine#football one shot#footballer x reader#football fanfic#soccer one shot#soccer fanfiction#soccer x reader
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Sweet Thing
“You made me listen kitten, to those cries, after flirting with me all day.”
Approx. 6.3k words
Pairing: Astarion x OC - See my little post about Alynea here. If you folks are curious to learn more about her, let me know :)
Content tags: MDNI, 18+ NSFW, smut, praise, begging, fingering, (mild) jealousy, depictions of blood/blood drinking.
A/N: Well, here I am posting smut ahah. Not a lot of context is needed, I've written it as much as I can into the fic itself. The vampire man has had a chokehold on me since the game came out, and I was compelled to write up one of my ideas of how he would go about seducing my tav while he's also struggling to keep his emotions separate :P.
Also, I have no idea how censorship works on here! Not entirely sure if this will get flagged in some way but oh well, such is part of learning. If you have the time and patience, feedback is appreciated <3 Is it strange to be nervous about posting smut? I don't know...
I hope this is enjoyable 😊
-Silver
-
Astarion waited impatiently in his tent, flipping carelessly through the pages of the novel he’d snagged during the day’s expedition. Despite his efforts, he found the tale within lacked the substance he needed to distract himself. Hells, he needed a distraction from what was happening outside his tent. He was positively sick of hearing Gale and Alynea geek out over magic together and he insisted to himself that he couldn’t be the only one.
Gale had made a habit of sitting late into the night at the campfire with the pale woman, a sneaky grin shared between them as they spoke of Waterdeep. Her a sorcerer and him a wizard, the two had bonded far too quickly for Astarion’s tastes, especially once it became known that both had been apprentices at Blackstaff. Even with his efforts to flirt with her, Astarion found himself further from the elf than he wanted to be. Another giggle from Alynea floated from the campfire up into the night sky, making him roll his eyes in irritation. Just how long was she going to make him wait? After all, she had promised to come to him after the others had gone to their bedrolls to let him feed.
Peeking out from his tent, Astarion was witness to how Alynea snickered at Gale’s words as she swallowed another mouthful of wine. The firelight cast a warm glow over her features and melded with the cooler palette of her skin and hair while her silvery eyes glittered. Albinism, she had said when asked. It explained the lack of colour in her, why her eyes twitched painfully under the bright sun and why her hair shone as white as bone, her pale skin only barely flushed with any warmth. As his eyes passed over the bruises on her neck, the memory of the first night she aided him rose to the surface.
“I’d hate to lose such a useful person over a little blood,” she had said so sweetly the night he’d tried to drink from her. “If that’s all you need, I’ll help.” He was honestly surprised she hadn’t staked him right there, and even more taken aback that she was willing to leave herself at his mercy. Alynea had struggled against him that night, body shaking as her blood was siphoned away. She hadn’t said anything in the moment, but there was something indescribable about the sudden head rush Astarion had experienced. It was invigorating and electrifying, sharpening his vision as a tingle arced down his spine. He would later confirm the wave of energy that washed over him when drinking from her wasn’t normal; the goblins he’d torn open a few days later did nothing to soothe the vampiric hunger the way her lifeblood did. Perhaps it was due to the magic she claimed burned inside her, though he couldn’t be sure. It was hard to believe at times she was such a fearsome spellcaster with her small presence and diminutive form, but the fireball she’d launched past his head earlier in the day begged to differ. Even though she was the shortest and physically smallest of the ragtag group, the rest of the party had quickly learned to not be the cause of her split hairs, lest they be the target of her next spell.
He was no longer reading the words in his book, fingers paused in the middle of turning the page as he realized he was reminiscing like a schoolboy. How embarrassing, he thought to himself. Sure, Alynea was another pretty face, but he couldn’t fathom why she lingered in his mind the way she did. The woman was a patriar’s daughter for hells sake—by all accounts she should be someone he held contempt for. Should was the operative word however, he was failing to find anything to find truly repulsive about the little elf. Perhaps the tadpole had scrambled his brain more than he’d like to admit. Before he could muse any longer on the thought, there was a noise that drew him back to the present.
“Astarion? Gale’s gone now. I’m… I’m here, if you would like.” Her warbly voice was soft outside his tent as she stood by, picking at the strap of the oversized top she’d chosen as a nightgown. Although intended for a man much larger than her the shirt made for an acceptable nightdress, if a little short. The sound of a book snapping shut alerted her to the vampire shuffling around inside the tent before the main flap was pulled back, a hand inviting her in. Crouching as she stepped within the boundaries of his tent, her pupils dilated as her vision adjusted. Being elves, the lack of light was no issue for them, Astarion could see her perfectly well in the dark, and he knew she could see him as well.
“Oh my... you’re in a distracting outfit tonight darling,” the vampire drawled. Alynea’s cheeks flushed pink at that as her fingers tweaked a strand of hair between them. “I can change if—” He waved a hand, cutting her off. “Oh I doubt that’ll be necessary. After all, I will be needing access to that pretty little neck of yours.”
She swallowed thickly at that, nostrils flaring slightly as his grin made her shiver. As she squirmed under his gaze a strange sense of irritation rose in his chest at the sight of her. The garment she wore hung loosely off her shoulders and low on her chest which left little to the imagination, the hemline only just reaching the top of her knee. It was a dress that, if one could even call it such, practically screamed sex appeal. Knowing she had been sitting shoulder to shoulder with Gale directly prior to this, jealousy stirred in him for a moment before he regained control. That bumbling wizard wouldn’t know what to do with Alynea even if she were to lie nude and expecting in front of him.
That mental image sparked a new sense of discontent in Astarion. He could hardly believe he was competing with Gale for her affections, dismayed at the thought of her possibly seeing them in the same league. In fact, he could hardly believe he was competing with any of them. Wyll was but a bright-eyed child, still wet around the ears. The warlock’s eyes shined with adoration for the woman, but it was clear he was unable to think beyond that. Shadowheart was just as bad, with the way she had roped the sorcerer into listening to her Sharran drivel. Astarion scowled at that, wanting to laugh at the absurdity of it.
Alynea cleared her throat, bringing him back to the present. “Are you alright Astarion?” There was an unknowable emotion in her eyes that made him shy away from her gaze, scratching at the nape of his neck. “Apologies,” he muttered. “I was distracted by a thought is all.” The excuse did little to sway her; she just stared back at him with those large silver eyes. Astarion tilted his head, seeing the way she looked down at the strand of hair she fiddled with. She was well within her rights to still be uncomfortable about the arrangement they’d made, though something whispered to him that it wasn’t fear of him that made her shy. Ever since the first incident, she’d insisted on giving her some of her blood when the group failed to find enough fights for him to feed from. Despite how palpable her nervousness was, she would take a deep breath and shake her head when he offered her an out, even as the anxiety rolled off her in waves.
Astarion shifted, adjusting his position to sit at one end of the tent with his legs spread. Given she was much smaller, he grabbed a pillow he’d swiped from the grove and placed it between his thighs. Frankly, she needed it, so he could reach her neck without craning his own horrendously. Alynea was fragile against him when his fangs were in her throat, and he didn’t want to risk hurting her more than he had to. Her willingness to let him feed from her was a gift and he would not squander it, he thought to himself. No, as much as he wanted to indulge, to feel her warmth fade as he drained every last drop from her body, he knew he couldn’t. Her generosity was one of the kindest things anyone had ever willingly done for him and he refused to ruin it.
He outstretched a hand to her to guide her as she sat down on the pillow, twisting around to press her back against him. The warmth of her skin was pleasant against his cool chest, something he always relished when she let herself nestle against his body. He paused at the way her muscles tensed when his fingers brushed along her ears, sweeping back her ivory locks to reveal her neck. The tiniest drop of guilt bubbled up in him upon seeing the lingering bruises from the last time, but it quickly faded away. He had plans to make it up to her tonight.
“Now, kitten,” he cooed into her ear, his lips only a breath away. “You let me know when you’re ready, darling.” Although she was insistent on letting him receive blood from her, Astarion had found she would flinch when he gave no warning before ravaging her neck. They had tried other veins, including her wrists or arms, but nothing had been as efficient as her throat for drawing enough. Despite how his gut would wrench with hunger at her scent, he found she handled the situation best when she was in control. How innocent, he had thought. But still he restrained himself; he could control his desires and he would.
At first, she had been telling him verbally when she was ready, but much to his surprise the last two times she had simply squeezed his knee to let him know she was prepared. Although she hadn’t been the quickest to warm up to him when they first met, it was the little things that told Astarion he was making progress with her. For all her sweet demeanor, she was a powerful sorcerer he wanted on his side. He’d slowly been gaining her trust and affection, and these intimate nights where she let him drink only accelerated the relationship. This time he was preparing to step things up, the scent of her blood filling him with a carnal desire to bend her over and break her.
“Sweet thing, you smell delicious tonight,” he whispered into her ear. She was wearing perfume tonight, same as the last few times. The aromas of mugwort and balsam floated up from her skin and filled his head as he remembered her picking the herbs earlier in the day. It was a sweet gesture, though it didn’t do much to distract him from his prize. Nevertheless, he was flattered by the effort. Sharp fangs slid out just a fraction from his gums, the pointed ends brushing along the cartilage of her upper ear. Alynea shuddered at the touch, squeaking out the tiniest yelp as one of his hands began rubbing along her arm. It was his attempt to relax her, to ply her to his want and to let herself go limp in his arms.
“Astarion, before you—” She paused, her breath hitching as his other hand innocently rested on one of her knees, thumbpad rubbing circles into her skin. “Yes, dear? What could possibly be the matter?” The low timbre of the vampire’s voice sent shivers down her body and she let out a short breath, unaware she had even been holding it.
“N-Nothing’s the matter,” Alyena stammered. Oh, how sweet that little stutter made her sound to him. She only ever stuttered like that when she was flustered, overwhelmed with her emotions. Those feelings always quieted down when he sank into her though, her shaky voice silencing to a soft “oh…” each time. He could hardly wait to feel her grip at his thigh, to signal to him that he could take her. “But I wanted to ask…” the man paused, lifting his head back slightly from her. She twisted around to look up at him and despite his best efforts, something twinged in the base of his stomach. A primal, growling desire rumbled in him, but he bit his tongue as those impossibly round doe eyes stared up at him.
“Um… Could you possibly take off your shirt before you do it?” A flush crept across her cheeks, a rare instance of her skin becoming rosy. “I… I like the way it feels, when you press your chest against my back, and…” Astarion cracked a devilish grin as she mumbled out her request, tripping and stumbling over her words. Something about it feeling safe when she was held in an embrace, how skin to skin contact felt, and so on. She blushed, biting a nail as she looked up. Liar, he snarked in his head. He knew she was attracted to him, despite her avoidance of the question when he had asked. She wanted a good piece of eye candy, that’s why she was asking.
“As you wish, so it shall be granted, darling,” he replied graciously to her. In a moment, his blouse was untied and slipped over his white curls, tossed aside to a forgotten corner of his tent. She paused to stare for a moment, biting her lip as her eyes took in his shape in the dark before sitting back against him. Alynea felt both panic and excitement rise in her throat as he settled back in, cool skin pressing against hers. She knew he could feel her heartbeat, smell the rush of her blood, though it wasn’t something she could control exactly. Truth be told, she had been working up the nerve to ask him to do this. She wanted the chance to see him up close without his shirt, and now she had her desire.
Although she had tried her best to keep the instances of blood drinking transactional, it had become more and more impossible. Gods, he stared at her in such a smoldering way. The way his eyes gazed into hers, how he cradled her body in his arms as he fed, all made her feel weak in the knees. The last two times after she had left his tent she had laid in her own bedroll, desperately chasing release with her own means. The loss of blood put a pleasant haze over everything, and she found herself soaked with need and desire as she fantasized about the tall, handsome man who practically eyefucked her every chance he could. She wasn’t stupid; she could tell Astarion was undressing her in his mind every time he saw her. She could only hope her eyes didn’t give it away as much as his did.
Astarion’s thumb was rubbing circles again. This time though, she tensed, feeling his hand far higher up than it had been previously. Where his palm normally rested on her knee, his hand had slid down to lay on her inner thigh. The hem of her nightshirt was pushed up, and she blushed seeing her own skin.
“Hm… you naughty girl, you’re not even wearing any underwear,” he purred. His voice made her blink and focus, becoming more alert to the position she was in. It made her blush further, realizing how she was fully lying back against the elf, heart thudding in her chest as his other hand moved lower, finding a spot at her waist. His touch made her voice catch in her throat, a particularly sweet sound coming out only barely above a whisper as he pulled her against him. “I…” she mumbled something, trying to think of a response, but finding none. Was he going to realize? Would he know she’d been planning this night in her mind all day?
“Shh, shh,” he hushed, his fingers dragging their nails over the milky skin of her inner thigh. Her leg twitched at this as his fingers moved closer to her groin, dangerously close. “Do you think I was oblivious to your antics the last two times?” His voice was a low growl now, a dangerous edge to it that she seldom heard, yet caused her belly to twinge all the same in response. “Coming in here, all perfumed, barely dressed,” he muttered into her ear. “Sitting here, all soft and sweet while you bled for me” he continued. “To then go back to your bedroll and whine the way you do,” he added, Alynea shivering at his voice. “Fucking yourself on your fingers while you moaned my name,” he hissed, mouth hovering over her neck, just behind her ear.
Alynea closed her eyes, her face flushed as she felt her stomach tie into a knot. She should’ve known, she realized. Of course a vampire, an elven one no less, would have been able to hear her whines, no matter how muffled. “Astarion,” she whimpered, her hand squeezing at his thigh. A silent yes, her way of giving him permission.
“The last two times,” he breathed out hoarsely, his tongue dragging along her neck and paying particular attention to the two bruises he’d left. She quivered under his touch, a hand coming up to cover her mouth as she tried not to squeak. “You made me listen while you made your desires known.” Alynea could hardly breathe, with how tight the tension in her body was coiled. She was melting under every single touch of his now. “You made me listen, kitten, to those cries, after flirting with me all day.” She nearly palmed his head away when his fangs scraped along her ear, making her strain and push against him, rocking her body back. Astarion grinned, his arm coming around to encircle her waist. He had her at his mercy now, unable to pull away as his other hand pushed up the hem of her nightgown even further, exposing her.
“All while acting so innocent to me the next morning,” he growled. She gasped when his fangs pierced her, louder than she ever had before. Her body shuddered against his as she let out a low breathy moan, one that seemed to egg him on as his arm pulled her against him even harder. A sharp pain, now a familiar embrace, dulled her senses and made her weak as she became more pliable in his arms. As she lay there, she realized something; he was drinking slowly, much slower in fact than usual. Blinking, she opened her mouth to say something but only managed to let out a quiet strangled noise
Astarion’s cool fingers had found her. She was already wet, and he found only the slightest bit resistance as he slid his first finger in before her body caved, freely letting him push into her. His thumbpad now circled her clit and she let out the most pathetic little sob of pleasure as he continued to slowly, agonizingly slowly, drink down her blood.
Alynea let out the softest, sweetest little moan, her hips jerking in response. She wasn’t thinking, just moving in reaction to him. Still, he held her firmly, slowly suckling out more of her blood as he dug his fingers into her. Hells, he thought to himself, she smelled and tasted incredible. The arousal he had smelled on her had already tipped him off to her state of mind when she had entered his tent, but now it was a full crescendo. Her little whimpers and moans as she attempted to be quiet, to not wake the whole camp, were like a symphony to his ears. It was a delight to hear it firsthand and by his hand, rather than how muffled it was when she was in her own bedroll, crying into her pillows to reduce the noise.
“Oh, Astarion...” He stiffened at her voice; the way his name fell from her mouth was sinful. He hummed as he slowly siphoned more blood, increasing the flow into his mouth and making her cry out as he slid another finger into her. His other hand reached up, tugging down her nightshirt from her shoulders and freeing her torso from the garment. Her lungs heaved as his fingers worked away at her flesh, pinching and groping and massaging the soft skin. Her whole body jolted at the touch, hips grinding up against his palm. With a loud groan of contentment, Astarion released his fangs from her throat, continuing to suck and lick at the two new puncture marks he’d left behind. He would take more later, but for now his focus was on seducing the sweet treat in his lap.
“Fuck, oh gods…” she whispered as Astarion looked down, smirking at what he saw. “Just me,” he crooned softly. He could see the ghost of a smile at his quip on her lips, but it vanished quickly as she melted into his embrace. Pleased with his work, he committed the image to memory. Alynea curled in his arms with her eyes closed, brows furrowed as she squirmed, her chest bared and blushed pink in various locations where he’d pinched and prodded. She was such a pretty thing, pushing her hips against his fingers. “You’ve been waiting for this,” he murmured against her skin. “Isn’t that right? You’ve been wanting to fuck yourself all over my fingers for a while now, you little minx.” Soft, shaky breaths escaped her as she shifted in his embrace while he dug further into her, searching for the soft little pad of tissue that he knew would undo her. He chuckled, nipping at her with his fangs. “Answer me, kitten.”
“A—yes, yes I—” she winced when she bit her tongue fumbling for words as he slid in a third finger. She felt his chest tighten as he sucked in a breath, tasting blood in her mouth. Their gazes locked, her wide eyes looking up at him as his free hand moved to come up to her chin. Firmly, but still gentle, he gripped her jaw as he pushed her to look at him.
Astarion couldn’t help but grin at the sight of her. The smell of her blood leaking from a nipped tongue, mingling with her hot breath made his own belly twinge. Her pupils were blown out, a sight he recognized well as lust. She whined when he withdrew his fingers from her, but he tutted at her softly as he brought them up to his own mouth. “You are perfect kitten,” he groaned softly, reveling in the taste. The smaller elf shivered as his hand left a smear on her thigh as he adjusted her in his arms. He shifted her head to his other shoulder, adjusting his own body to better support her frame as she leaned into him, his thumb pressed against her bottom lip. This night was about her, not him, but she was irresistible to him all the same. The primal, carnal urge within him growled, yearning to take her, though he forced it back down. Not yet, he hissed at it. Not tonight. He wouldn’t destroy this. He wouldn’t.
When he kissed her, he could feel her heartbeat skyrocket. His other hand fell, resuming his motions as she moaned into his mouth. His tongue chased hers, the linger taste of her mixing with her blood, a soft groan escaping him as she whimpered. A sweet thing indeed, he thought to himself. He stayed there, kissing her and lapping at the swollen spot on her tongue that bled just the tiniest bit, enticing him to go further as he kept up the rhythm, fingers reaching as far as he could into her.
Alynea was speechless, her mind racing. Gods, she had been dreaming about this exact scenario for over two weeks now. His fingers felt heavenly as they moved rhythmically against her, every stroke sending another jolt of pleasure through her bones. She could feel her heart in her throat as he kissed her, a strong hand on her jaw keeping her there as his tongue delved into her mouth.
It was all beginning to be too much. Still, she did nothing to stop him as he carried on, feeling herself react more and more sharply the longer he continued. In the back of her mind she could hear herself moaning louder, the sounds harder to control as the pleasure became more intense. Despite the spells inside her that roiled and bubbled up, she kept it down as he slid his fourth finger in, the noises becoming more obscene as her eyes rolled back slightly, waves of heat continuing to build in the bottom of her belly. She had trained her magic well enough to not be worried about a mephit blinking into existence or thornbushes coming up to entangle them, but nonetheless she fought off the tingling feeling in her chest as the tension in her body continued to grow.
“Astarion,” she whimpered against his mouth, catching his attention. His fingers paused for a moment and she whined, rocking her hips slightly as if desperately telling him not to stop. “Astarion, I want you to bite me,” she pleaded, “again, on the neck.” She could feel him smirk against her lips as his fingers started up again, this time more feverish than before. “Oh, you sweet thing,” he whispered, hand still on her jaw. He tilted her head down against his shoulder and she groaned as she felt her orgasm starting to build. She could faintly hear him laugh softly as she began grinding her hips into his hand, biting on her tongue in concentration, legs shaking as she did so. With her head resting in the crook of his neck, she began to moan again, unable to contain her voice as she reached for her release. Alynea had wanted this for so long, her body was on fire with anticipation. She felt his hand leave her jaw, returning to massage her chest and she stifled her cries into his neck. His cool skin provided brief momentary relief as the pressure in her body came to a rumbling boil, but the rush of heat returned just as quickly and fiercer than before.
She didn’t know why he hadn’t returned his fangs to her neck and now she desperately wanted them. A part of her was laughing at the contradiction; his fangs sinking into her often hurt, yet here and now as she was a shuddering mess she wanted nothing more than that sharp, bright pain. Shivers rippled through her body at the thought, muscles straining against his four fingers he kept fucking her with. Fuck, she realized. Did he want her to beg? To plead for him to ruin her further?
Well, if that’s what he wanted, she had no qualms about doing so.
Astarion was a little surprised when Alynea’s hand palmed at his forearm. He didn’t really expect her to be able to think coherently in the moment, given how uninhibited she was making such sweet noises for him. There was something pathetically desperate about the way she weakly pawed at him, unable to put any real strength into her grip. Her head shifted, shaking slightly as her lips moved close to his ear. Sucking in a sharp breath as her lips grazed his neck while her nails dug gently into his skin, he bit back a groan as her tongue rolled over his skin. “You little minx,” he growled quietly, the low register of his voice sending a chill through her.
“Astarion, please,” she mewled. “Please… I need your fangs in me, I’m- I’m so close…” He stiffened a little at that, his own erection that was hidden by the pillow she sat on twitching at her pleas. He hummed, craning his neck down to the exposed skin. “My, my, who would’ve thought our fearless sorceress would be brought to her knees like this,” he crowed. “Moaning and crying like this, begging for me.” In the back of his mind Astarion was gleeful. He knew she was being too loud at this point; Wyll in his tent could probably hear her halfway across the campsite. He knew that the wizard nearby could definitely hear her cries. Perhaps this would finally send the others the message he'd been trying to tell them: She’s mine. She was his to hold close, to nip on the neck and to pleasure.
“Please… I’ve been… been so good, for you,” she whined into his ear, each breathy gasp making him bite the inside of his cheek harder. “I’ve let you take so much… so much blood,” she whimpered. The salt of her sweat left a tang in his throat, lips pressed against her neck as she continued to moan. He could tell she was getting close, with the way she was grinding herself onto his fingers, her heartbeat pulsing through her whole body.
“Oh, fuck, don’t make me keep begging,” she whispered. There was a frantic tone in her voice as she shuddered, continuing to grind against him. “Please, oh gods, I’m so close, I want your fangs in me when I—Astarion, please,” she wailed, completely lost to the hope of staying silent. Was that a tear he spotted in the corner of her eye? He could almost laugh in disbelief, though he would not betray her feelings in that way, at least not in the moment. Planting a soft kiss to her jawline, his fingers tangled themselves into her silver hair. With the slightest bit of force, Astarion pulled her head fast against his shoulder to expose her neck as best as possible. Alynea was shaking with need, sweat glistening down her body as he heard her voice become strained.
She was such a pretty little thing. And she was such an exquisite treasure when she was laid out like this, wanton moans muffled against his body as her nails dug into his arms, her hips moving back and forth against his fingers that continued to push deep inside her. “Sweet thing, don’t cry,” he purred. He could see her chest fall a little at the reassurance, as if some relief had come from his words alone. The sound of her blood rushing echoed in his ears, heartbeat thudding wildly throughout her body as her breathing became even more labored. She was right at the edge now, he figured. They had been at this for over ten minutes and the slow build up was clearly agonizing for her, to be this close.
His fingers slowed for a moment, withdrawing most of the way out of her, his thumb pressing harder against her clit as she cried against him in protest. She was so close, teetering on the edge of her release, but he shushed her to soothe her begging as he planted one more gentle kiss on her neck. “You’re right, darling,” he whispered. “You’ve been a wonderful girl, such a good treat for me,” he muttered against her skin.
“Oh, fuck!” Alynea cried out against his neck as the white-hot pain lanced through her own, feeling his fingers thrust back into her with full force. Eyes squeezed shut, she couldn’t see the wild and unfocused look in his eyes as he began to drink. The familiar hazy sensation from blood loss washed over her with force as he drank deeply, swallowing down mouthfuls of her blood as he fucked her onto his hand.
It was all simply too much. The pressure in the bottom of her belly swelled to a feverish pitch, before it all exploded. She could faintly hear him grunt as her muscles clenched, her whole body seizing up as relief washed over her, ripping through and out her body forcefully. Her hips bucked hard against his hand, thighs shaking as they tried to press together. His fingers had slowed, but continued to gently fuck her through the high as she felt his fangs begin to retract, her hips beginning to calm down.
After a moment, his fangs finished retracting and Alynea’s gasps settled down to soft mumbles as he lapped at her neck, helping to close over the new marks left by his feeding. There was a groan from her throat as his fingers lazily withdrew from her, her body aching at the sudden loss. She heard him suck in a breath, seeing how the cushion she sat on was freshly wet as a creeping embarrassment grew in her chest.
He grinned at her, not a glint of shame in his eyes as he lifted his hand, dragging his tongue from his wrist to the top of his palm as she watched with a heavy blush. Then, he reached for his pack off to the side and tugged out a cloth. That was enough to erase any lingering worry she felt as her breathing even out. After a moment, she shivered as he wiped her down as well before he placed the rag off to the side to be forgotten. Astarion sat quietly, seemingly unsure of what to do next with the quivering mess in his lap. After a moment she shifted, twisting herself around and surprising him as her arms wrapped around his torso. “Did you enjoy that?” She whispered, head resting still on his shoulder.
Something lanced through him with those words. She asked so innocently, so sweetly, as if he hadn’t just made her lose her mind on his fingers. There was a tinge of authenticity to her tone, something that told him she wanted to know truly if he had enjoyed it. “Darling,” he purred. “You were marvelous.” That wasn’t a lie, he mused to himself. He had enjoyed it, watching her unravel because of his actions made something in him swell with satisfaction. Pride, even.
“The next time you’re so desperate as to keep me up all night listening to you,” he spoke softly, more gently. “Don’t torture yourself. Not when I can help.” She seemed to relax at his words, her eyes unfocused and hazy as her heartbeat began to slow. Exhaustion was calling to her, even as Astarion pulled away to grab another pillow. “You should head to your bedroll, sweet kitten,” he whispered. To his surprise though, she reached out weakly, fingers tangling with his own. “I don’t particularly… care what the others have to say,” she murmured. She was falling into her trance now, voice heavy with exhaustion. “So… let me stay with you tonight here. …Please?”
Again, something in the way she spoke shot right through him. The intimacy of her fingers entwined with his made a strange sensation flood over his face. Although her eyes had closed, he said nothing, only nodding. Pulling a blanket over her shoulder and covering her half naked form, he laid her down on his bedroll. He had never done this part of sex, he thought to himself. Though she didn’t seem to be asking for much. Perhaps she just wanted to stay where a bedroll had already been warmed, instead of making the trudge back to her own tent.
In the morning, Alynea would be slow to wake. When she did, she reached for the amulet Astarion had swiped in the grove, her skin shimmering as the lesser restoration spell shook the sleep from her eyes. To her back was the pale elf, still shirtless from the night before, though he had made distance between them overnight. She blushed when she sniffed the air, heavy with the smell of sex, the smell of her. Yawning, she adjusted her nightgown as Astarion began to shift, waking from his own trance.
Red eyes met silver, blinking silently. Sheepishly, she smiled at him. “Good morning." A slight smile ghosted across his face before vanishing as he sat up, reaching for his blouse. “Sleep well, darling?” He asked. She nodded, reaching up to trace at the nicks left on her neck. She flinched a little when pressing on one of them; the tissue was sore. She looked over to him, whose gaze had also settled on it. Astarion smirked at her, looking down as he laced up his blouse. “My apologies, darling. It seems the bruising is quite... intense this time.”
When she finally left his tent, she cringed internally as she briefly met Wyll’s gaze across from her tent as she slipped inside, hastily changing out of her disheveled nightshirt. She knew the boy had harbored a crush on her since his childhood, and some part of her felt bad knowing he probably heard her cries last night. Likewise, Gale hadn’t come out of his tent yet either. She felt her face flush at the thought of her friend lying in his bedroll, forced to listen as she had wailed so openly for Astarion, moaning his name, begging him to undo her.
Later, the women who had their tents on the other side of the campsite would ask why the men were so quiet. Gale, ever the gentleman, had the grace to brush it off as being exhausted from a bad sleep while Wyll said nothing, staring down intently at his food. Astarion however, had rolled his eyes, scoffing something about humans and their need for sleep. Karlach guffawed at that, pointing out that it was no secret that Alynea had slipped out of his tent this morning and not her own, her neck covered in bruises. True to her word, when Astarion glanced over at the elf, she was chewing on a strip of bacon as she peered over a spell scroll totally unbothered. When she looked up to see the party’s eyes on her, she blinked, swallowing before saying the simplest, sweetest thing he had heard from her yet.
“Yeah, I did. He was good.”
#baldurs gate 3#bg3#astarion x oc#mdni#astarion#astarion ancunin#cw blood#astarion x tav#astarion x female tav#astarion bg3#bg3 astarion#fanfic#bg3 fanfiction#fanfiction#astarion romance#fic#alynea#writing
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Hi!! I see you post occasionally about cdramas. I went to China this summer and I learned a little Mandarin (like enough to say, “I don’t speak good Mandarin.”) Would I be able to muddle through cdramas with captions? (Also any suggestions on which ones to watch and where to watch them?). Thanks so much <3
ooh i hope you had lots of fun there! with subtitles i think you could absolutely make it through most cdramas; it depends on how good the subs are, honestly, because alas translating mandarin chinese to english (or any latin-based language, for that matter) is i think one of the most difficult language translations possible because the chinese language is just so rife with chengyu (idioms).
as for recs, i do have a handful i watched recently enough that i feel more confident in trusting my own taste LOL. i almost exclusively watch historical dramas, so these are definitely going to be very skewed to my personal preferences.
also, this will be long because i love my cdramas. bear with me!
word of honor/山河令 (2021)
episodes: 36
genre: wuxia (chinese martial arts fantasy; think of crouching tiger hidden dragon), dangai (cdrama adapted from a chinese gay romance novel), adventure, political intrigue
arguably the most explicitly gay cdrama that's come out in the last decade despite censorship issues in chinese tv broadcasting
a lonely ex-assassin retires and begins a slow 1-year suicide by poison, but his death plan is interrupted by a flirtatious (& dangerous) man with a mysterious background + a newly orphaned kid he accidentally becomes responsible for. cue politics and drama!
if you don't mind dealing with low-budget CGI—though the show is so immersive it hardly makes a difference—the story features: fascinating & subversive themes about life & morality, a well-written cast of bloodthirsty women, an incredibly charming found family, and an absolutely fantastic, dramatic, devoted slow burn between the two male leads
if you prefer more mature romance—lots of flirting & sexual tension between two highly intelligent & capable men who are 1) attracted to each other from the get-go 2) constantly trying to outmaneuver each other & figure each other out... this is the one!
if it means anything, i am recommending this one first because it's my all-time favorite cdrama! especially if you are queer like me :)
you can watch it subtitled on netflix or fully free & subtitled in HD on the official youku youtube channel
the double/墨雨云间 (2024)
episodes: 40
genre: historical, romance, political intrigue
if you too are tired of stories about shallow, badly-written girlbosses with no dimension... this is the show for you!
protagonist is a happy woman who gets framed for adultery & buried alive by her husband—she survives and returns to enact revenge upon those who hurt her & her loved ones by assuming the identity of the young woman who died saving her. she makes many enemies and allies along the way + catches the attention of the emperor's notoriously cold & keen-eyed right hand man, duke su, who eventually becomes her very supportive love interest <3
high stakes & a plot that makes you hold your breath, GORGEOUS cinematography
a long list of complex and important female characters, most of them nasty and corrupt, all of them sympathetic and interesting. the show is good at making you assume at first that their characters won't be done justice, but just wait :)
from your resident het romance skeptic: excellent dynamic! protagonist and her duke are both confident, calculating schemers always trying to outsmart each other, but eventually join hands against common enemies. extremely slow burn with lots of tension and a refreshing lack of miscommunication
you can watch with subtitles on netflix, youku, and definitely some p/racy sites for east asian dramas
mysterious lotus casebook/莲花楼 (2023)
episodes: 40
genre: wuxia, adventure, mystery
a heroic & famous swordsman suffers a defeat at the hands of his nemesis and vanishes and is widely presumed dead. timeskip a decade, he's been living in disguise as a doctor to escape the burden of his identity when the past he's been hiding from starts to catch up to him when he scams a talented & stubborn young swordsman whose past is connected to his
if you like sly 30 yr old protagonists, identity shenanigans, & mystery-solving with gay polycule undertones, this is the one for you!
as for potential shipping: if you like age gap stuff and/or devoted puppyboys and/or "A has idolized B (adult) since they were a child; now A is grown-up and wants to protect B" trope. OR if you like 30 yr old nemeses who act divorced. the 3 main guys all have chemistry; pick and choose your ship at will!
to save text, last year i made a passionate powerpoint post explaining the whole show, spoiler-free, in more detail!
you can watch it with subtitles on iqiyi for free or on aforementioned [redacted] sites
love between fairy and devil/苍兰诀 (2022)
episodes: 36
genre: romance, xianxia (chinese high fantasy), adventure
high budget CGI? in MY cdrama? it's more likely than you think!
please ignore the horrendous english title. a translation of the original chinese would be "the parting/goodbye of canglan", canglan being the main characters. the story is tragic but ends happily!
on the surface appears like an old-fashioned good girl x bad boy love story, but is far more emotionally interesting & 100% deserving of its sheer popularity
brave & kindhearted low-ranking 1,500 yr old orchid fairy spirit accidentally soulbonds with a 30,000 yr old demon lord war prisoner who just happens to be the nemesis of her realm, except she reaps all the benefits and he just suffers (hilariously)
very star-crossed, VERY funny bodyswapping, & with far more heart and consistency than many people assume. the romance is difficult in ways that make sense! genuinely thought my picky ass would not be charmed by this show and found myself fully crying by episode 8
oh, and gloriously stunning costuming. everyone looks good, all the time, even when they're covered in blood <3
if you're interested, here is the powerpoint post that convinced me!
you can watch with subtitles on netflix, or iqiyi & viki for free!
a journey to love/一念关山 (2023)
episodes: 40
genre: historical, romance, adventure, political intrigue
also female-centric! an infamous and deeply complex assassin protagonist hellbent on revenge against the people who framed her finds herself making a deal to train a timid princess into becoming a political force of nature, ft. her supportive and equally capable male love interest, his group of incredibly lovable and memorable best bros, a gorgeous cutthroat young marquis with an oedipus complex & a complicated backstory (who absolutely steals the show whenever he shows up), & a headstrong tomboy princess with a sweet and loyal heart
a fast-paced plot that never drags + excellent soundtrack + incredible action scenes + a genuinely convincing crossdressing plot where the female character actually passes as a man
unreasonably funny considering the political drama. i truly cannot understate how Fun this was to watch, especially if you like deadly domineering women who are badly socialized and hilarious, and female characters establishing positive and meaningful bonds with each other.
if you've never watched a cdrama, i will warn that most of them Do Not Pull Their Punches when it comes to making viewers cry. this one has shakespearian tragedy levels of death, including of major characters
you can watch with subtitles on iqiyi, and i'm sure some [redacted] sites also
hoping this list can be of help to you, anon! i cannot state how happy it makes me to see anyone express an interest in watching cdramas. i grew up on them, their long dramatic storylines and star-crossed romances, and they shaped my taste in fiction in more ways than i can say. if at any point you get around to watching any of these, feel free to yell in my inbox about it, and most importantly have fun and enjoy! <3
#fyi anon i am currently watching “fangs of fortune” (2024) which is a xianxia about a very queer squad that goes demon-hunting and suffers#cannot rec it yet bc i'm only 2 episodes in but it IS captivating and the main character is INCREDIBLY funny & babygirl#and the soundtrack + cgi fucking bangs. so.#asks!#sheng says stuff#cdramas#word of honor#the double#mysterious lotus casebook#love between fairy and devil#a journey to love#cdrama recs
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Ok so about yesterday's post, I'm rly rly grateful for all the attention n feedback, I'm glad ppl resonate with my analysis stuff and that they're happy to find someone who understands the characters, buuuuut Since it's my most critical post till now it's garnered a few counterpoints that I kinda wanna address.
The first one, and the one that I understand the most; the people that were telling me to not lose hope and that they could do something more with this.
I... Appreciate the optimism! I really do, and if you believe this then obviously I hold no ill will towards you and if you can keep looking on the bright side then more power to you, but... Really, I think the moment and the chance have already passed, unfortunately.
Yes, I am genuinely saying that, unless they pull a miracle, whatever they do next is just... Not going to land. Definitely not as well as it would have to have a better ending to the story we got.
Here's the main thing, really. For one... What is Burning Spice even gonna do to get one over Golden Cheese again? He's already just about entirely outmatched, and so anything they do next is just gonna feel like a repeat of what they already did in this update. Though more importantly, I'm concerned with the fact that they can't really do this again, we just saw Golden Cheese at her lowest point, actually on the brink of death, more heavily damaged than we've ever seen anyone in this entire franchise, we got extra development for both her and Smoked Cheese, and the Spice Army is kind of just... Not there anymore. No one other than Nutmeg Tiger really has any faith in Burning Spice anymore. The setting, the stakes, the characters, everything that made this story hold up (until its god awful ending) isn't repeatable, not without making it feel like we're just doing the same thing again. They can't match the sheer level of visceral brutality either, not only because again the setting is gone but also because it really won't hit anywhere near as hard the second time around, and even they have limits for how far they're willing to go with it.
That's just kind of the thing. The one thing that makes me so mad about how much this ending sucked. This entire story is one of a kind, you can't do this again, because if you try, then it's not gonna hit anywhere near as hard the second time around. Hell, it'd be the third time we've seen Golden Cheese in a low spot that she ends up pulling through and recovering from, and the second time (with Burning Spice) was so much more extreme than the first one which is part of what made it work, you can't do that again.
The framing isn't replicable. The active contrast between the two primary characters, the brutality and viscerality of it all, the active rejection of Burning Spice's ideals in a golden blaze of glory, the reinforcement of Golden Cheese's will through an adversary completely opposite to her, it can't happen again. This is why you don't fumble a story like this, because once you've shot the round, it's spent. There's no getting it back. If you miss the shot, no matter how potent the weapon, it won't do anything, and there's no getting that shot back. Specially because, like... Are we forgetting that we're not done with Golden Cheese here? Why waste more time on retreading ground that we already covered with her encounter against Burning Spice, when instead it would be much better spent later on focusing on her relationship with White Lily, and how she handles the whole Dark Enchantress situation? Sure, I have no doubt all the beasts are gonna come back, but I really, really don't see them getting entire stories dedicated to each and every single one again, specially involving their respective ancients, because... They've. Already lost. And if you try to set up the same matchups, it's just gonna feel like doing the same thing all over again. If/when they come back, it's most likely gonna be more short-form, akin more to a boss rush, I'd imagine, because the alternative is... What, exactly? Just doing their chapters again? A second time? For each one? It just feels really weird to think about, honestly.
Just... Everything here. Every bit of it. Every bit of narrative paralleling with Golden Cheese, Smoked Cheese, Nutmeg Tiger, Burning Spice and both of the respective kingdoms/armies, it was all contained in this arc, and you can't just do the same thing all over again, specially when the thing you've got set up next for Golden Cheese is a meeting with White Lily. Unless you plan to have Silent Salt and Burning Spice team up for a 2v2 against White Lily and Golden Cheese or... Something..? Completely taking away from the 1v1 fated duel kinda thing they've had going on this entire time..? I dunno, man. I don't see how they could salvage this. They had their chance, and they wasted it. Like sand, slipping through their fingertips.
Alright, that's the big one out of the way. I saw the comments and RBs bring up a few other points, so I'll address those now.
The first one, with someone posing the idea that she did take Burning Spice's Soul Jam, and that's why hers' changed color.
... What?
That's... That's not shown. Ever. Sure, you have an animation of her soul jam going over Spice's and eclipsing it, but... That's. Kind of it? It's never implied at all, and worse yet, it's directly contradicted by the fact Spice still has his Soul Jam. Like. It's right there. You can see it.
You could say maybe it's just a case of reusing assets, that they wouldn't make a whole new asset just for this one cutscene, but, uh... ... They did. It's this one.
It shows up in absolutely no other cutscene, only the one where he's about to get smacked by Golden Cheese. If his soul jam was taken not only would we have seen it (like we did both times it's happened to the Ancients), not only would he have probably noticed because that is very much a material object, but we would have seen it, like we do when both GC and Dark Cacao's soul jams are gone. So, no, he absolutely still has it. Undeniably so. You can't take someone's soul jam power without physically taking it, at least not that we've seen.
Secondly, a few comments/tags saying that it makes sense for Nutmeg Tiger to go back to Burning Spice after his defeat.
... I mean... Yeah, I guess? Technically?
It's... Not out of character. She is obsessive, absolutely to a fault, and she is incredibly stubborn. My main complain isn't that it makes no sense, and more that it's a bit of a wasted opportunity. More specifically, the fact that she went back to him with nothing about either of them having changed at all. It would have been super interesting to see how she'd react to seeing her god rendered powerless, to have him lash out at her despite her loyalty to him, to have Burning Spice's hostility and complete lack of care catch up to him and end up isolating him from absolutely everyone who served under him. To have her conversation with Smoked Cheese to be proven tangibly true, proving that yes, he would just discard her the moment she stops being useful. And, the best part? You get to keep her alive to have her process everything that just happened! Because, guess what, Burning Spice lacks basically all his power now, meaning he can't just kill her on the spot! Hell, if you really, really wanted to have a villain for a followup update, it could be Nutmeg Tiger, disillusioned with her former god's promises, deciding she'd find a way to become the next great destroyer, or something like that. Maybe she'd try to find someone else to serve instead to give her life some sort of purpose? Who knows! There's so many options you could go with, rather than just... Resetting everything back to where we started.
Really, this part of the whole thing is the least of my concerns. She's not the biggest player in this update, but I think she would have benefited heavily from the "Burning Spice gets his Soul Jam taken away" route in terms of potential development. Alas... There's a good chance we'll never get to know what that would have even looked like.
Thirdly and lastly;
The argument that it wouldn't be in character for Golden Cheese to give Burning Spice another chance.
Okay, this is somewhat minor. I need to emphasize; when I gave that hypothetical scenario at the end of the last post, I meant it as like... A long term thing. Not something to happen within the chapter itself. Besides, it's just one of many paths you could go with a jamless Spice.
... I'm still holding my ground on it, though.
See... We've got to remember here: Burning Spice's immortality is the exact thing that got him here. Take that away, and what do you get? A large man with anger issues and no special powers; and absolutely no one to cover for the newfound weaknesses of a mortal, since he's alienated and wronged absolutely everyone loyal to him. Not the Kulfis, or Nutmeg Tiger, or any of the spicelings would be left to help him. He'd be on his own, entirely. Why would Golden Cheese ever even consider helping him in any way, you may ask? After all he did, after all the bloodshed, physical pain induced, and complete lack of remorse for any of his actions?
Simple. For the same reasons she gave Smoked Cheese and White Lily another chance.
The latter specially! At the end of the latest Beast Yeast chapter, Golden Cheese decided she's ready to talk to White Lily. White Lily, who, as far as she and everyone else is aware, is pretty much responsible for her kingdom being reduced to nothing but ash and crumbs. Of course, on an objective level, White Lily is much more understandable, specially since she now exists as a separate person from Dark Enchantress, but... In the end, does it matter? Are the actions themselves any different? No, not really. The level of destruction and decay are still the exact same.
The main difference is, while White Lily would at most be hesitant to accept forgiveness and feel really really bad (like mortifyingly bad) about what Dark Enchantress did, Burning Spice wouldn't be interested in such a thing.
And, honestly? I feel like Golden Cheese would know this. And, at first, she'd have absolutely no interest in actually helping him. To me, she'd occasionally visit to see how he's faring, how this oh-so-powerful god of destruction is doing now that he's just a powerless little commoner, a mortal like all the rest, teasing him, finding entertainment in his position, while he can't do anything about it. She gave him the mercy of life, but that doesn't mean she's not gonna be a little shit about it and have her fun. And he can't do anything about it, either! Truly, eternal torture. Powerless, mocked by your enemy, made to feel small, denied the satisfaction of a proper fight or a warrior's death... Lol, get fucked idiot.
Eventually, it would probably turn into teasing him about how her kingdom is shaping up quite nicely, how happy everyone there is, how it's such a shame that his short-sighted and hostile nature prevented him from ever knowing such comfort and luxury, how instead he's here fighting for his life in the land that he once ruled.
And then idk he almost gets himself killed in the middle of a spice storm or something and she refuses to give him the satisfaction of a quick death so she drags his sorry ass off to safety much to his absolute livid rage and idk you know where this kinda thing goes. Both parties here hate each other. But I feel like sooner or later, it could grow into a very begrudging living agreement where he works for her, day in and day out, to make up for everything he did, and as payment for being given somewhere to stay. A destroyer, helping to rebuild and elevate a civilization he was so intent on destroying, how ironic is that?
And then yuri or something idk. That part is optional I just like the idea.
... Can you tell I'm a Dragon Ball fan? I'm all too used to absurdly evil villains getting another chance and becoming either significantly less dangerous or outright good.
Yes, I'm looking at you, Vegeta. You may not have killed a single earthling, but you did almost directly cause the death of 4. And then over time, through many, many humiliations, and finding yourself a woman who can somehow handle how much of an arrogant cocky bastard you are, with a temper matching or surpassing your own, you settled down and built something infinitely better than what you had when you exerted your power over those under you. Seriously, watch Dragon Ball Z, it's really good. It somehow makes a redemption arc for a guy who's blown up planets feel genuinely believable and engaging.
... Right, Cookie Run.
Yeah, I think it would be perfectly in character for GC to refuse Burning Spice the warrior's death he so desperately wanted (you know finding something that can destroy him), take his soul jam, and after a good while of having fun with watching him flounder about as a mortal, drag his ass over to her kingdom to work for her to compensate for all the shit he's done. And it would be infinitely more interesting than what they actually ended up doing.
And... I think that's it!
I think that covers everything I wanted to say regarding my last post on the update. This is probably the last I'll have to say about it of my own accord, though you can definitely continue the conversation through asks (Always open!). I'm still really mad at how bad they fumbled, but...
Hey, that's what fan-fixing is for, isn't it? This ending may have sucked, but don't let that prevent you from making a better one yourself, through whatever your medium of preference is. Go ham. Because there's a good chance whatever you have in mind is infinitely better than whatever the hell they're planning to do next with Burning Spice.
Go absolutely nuts. I'll be watching on, and potentially participating, if writing motivation ever strikes.
Cya'll.
#jester ramblings#cookie run#cookie run kingdom#burning spice cookie#golden cheese cookie#also someone just rb'd the post in question asking why she would want spice's soul jam#i don't think she'd actually use it at all. it'd be more taken as a cautionary measure stored away somewhere in her kingdom#as both a treasure and a way of preventing burning spice from doing any further harm in the future#yknow declawing and disarming him rather than killing him because that's basically the worst fate that could befall him specifically#i wanted to put this in the post but i couldn't find the room lol#so in the tags it goes
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ALTRAVIOLET, MAKE A TFP SEQUAL
And my LIFE
Is yOURRSSS
(no pressure tho, i saw a post in the Goobers going back i was like 😮👁️👁️)
[I don't know what "i saw a post in the Goobers going back" means... o.o]
hiiiiiiii anon!
lol ok I can see why you say that. and that's the short answer. but it's 5am and I don't want to go to work, so here are some more words about this subject:
I have a lot of thoughts about a sequel, most of them being, "I will not be able to recapture the exact flavor of intense emotional change in Soundwave + slow burn that everyone enjoyed, because SW has already changed and the slow burn is done." SW is in a happy place now. a sequel written in the same vein as the original (with emotional intensity, dire stakes, character growth and intricate connections) would require putting him in a bad place, and him overcoming it, with consequences. and yeah, maybe people would want to read that, but consider: are you sure??? do you know what I could do to him????
lol
I get it, and I would never say never. but if you want a true TEG 2.0, I think it would hurt to read, and it wouldn't have as happy an ending as TEG. however. however. if I think of something beyond "regular adventure they could go on" (which like, I feel like you want something deeper than that), I'll do it. a regular adventure or a series of little slice of life scenes are like. yeah. I could do that. but
a sequel to TEG deserves to be a sequel to TEG, ya know?
but! consider. however. I have started a new Rodimus/Soundwave fic, in a fanon continuity, which means I've made up EVERYTHING about the world. it doesn't rely much on any canon. does that sound appealing at all? ;A; if you happened to be someone who read TEG without reading MTMTE, it'd feel the same: you'd be introduced to the world through the fic. there isn't anything extraneous to it to rely on
that's me practicing moving from fic to original work
I'd really love to be able to write fiction for a living, which is like, a zillion to one chance. but I'm tired of working. I just wanna write. which means: I have to write. which means: I have to use my limited free time to write what's going to get me to my goal. which means: no TEG sequel planned. which means: never say never. but also. I have a lot of other fics. would you like to give them a try? would you give my new fic a try? or do you just want TEG 2.0?
which, if you do, I get it. but hopefully also you get where I'm coming from
ultimately, you wanting more of my writing is a huge compliment, so thank you :) I hope the tone of my reply hasn't felt dismissive or mean or anything. the goal was just to be very truthful, since I'm sure you're not the only one interested in a sequel
as always, no matter what, thanks for reading ✨
#ask#anonymous#echo garden related#now if I win the lottery all bets are off#you'll get so many fics outta me it'll be like the VCU#you'll be kickin' me outta here#you'll be like Oh god what 200k firestar/cyclonus nonsense is she doing now
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Written For: @lola-andheruniverse
Title: Paper Clips and Post-it Notes Author: @breb23 Rating: T (language and vague sexual references) Summary: Stuck at The Sanctuary as they weather the storm, Daryl and Carol have a talk. A/N: Happy happy holidays!!! I hope you enjoy this 🥹 I was SO excited when I was given your name for Secret Santa!! Sorry it's so angsty hahahaaha MERRY MERRY CHRISTMAS I hope your day is filled with love and joy and reading and yummy food! ❤️
“I feel like I'm losing myself again.”
Her voice rings through his mind louder than the icy snow pelting the roof of The Sanctuary, louder than the snap of fire that burns beneath his perch where the others have gathered. It burns brightly, yet any heat is whisked away by the draft that cuts through the walls, bringing yet another tremble through Carol, who lays beside him, face tucked into the collar of her jacket.
His fingers twitch, yearning to warm her, to bring her downstairs where they'll be closer to the fire, lower to the ground, where the snow won't settle against her coat and it won't feel like she's trying to punish herself yet again.
Yet she seems more content here, despite the discomfort, her eyes a bit brighter than they were surrounded by her people, her husband, her forehead smoother and her lips relaxed. So his hands remain at his sides, twisting loose thread between each finger until it tightens like a tourniquet, blood pooling each tip before he releases and starts on the next finger. Pinky, twist, pull, release. Ring finger, twist, pull, release….
Across the room, the others sleep, huddled together like puppies around the warmth of fire, ice melting off their jackets before freezing to the ground not two feet from them.
Carol coughs a wheezing breath, that deep-chested cough that has worried him since the cold nights before the prison. Her asthma has always been a concern, more to him than to her, although the stash of inhalers he's found throughout the years, albeit expired, ease his worries minutely.
“Hey, c’mon, gotta take your medicine,” he nudges her side, his hand briefly rubbing her shoulder before sliding back to safety.
Her eyes open easily, as if she's been awake the entire time, and though they glisten from the cold, they are dull, empty as they meet his own gaze.
I'm really trying to hang on, but I don't-
He shakes his head, as if to rid the words she'd spoken earlier, to rid himself of the defeated tone he's heard one too many times. She scares him deeply when she speaks that type of way, yet he freezes, every time.
Another wheeze, and he's brought back to present, digging into his pocket and pulling out her inhaler. Eleven puffs remaining.
He brings it to her lips and she rolls her eyes as she tilts closer to him, pushing down until Albuterol floods her lungs, once, twice, and then a sigh of relief.
“Thanks, I never realize how bad it's getting until I take it,” she mutters, propping up against his bag. He nods, sliding it back in his jacket.
“Shoulda brought you an extra from Alexandria, wasn't expecting this storm to be so bad,” he chews the side of his thumb.
Stupid, is what he's been. Stupid and distracted. If she needed it three or four times tonight, which is likely, that's three left for the entire journey back. And that's if they don't stop at Hilltop on the way. Maybe they have an extra stashed there, the heat of the building will help, but will it be-
“You're thinking awfully hard over there,” she smirks, pursing her lips as she meets his eyes again. “I'm a grown woman, you know that Daryl? I can take care of myself.”
There's a hint of a tease under the seriousness and he isn't sure what to do with that.
“Just ‘cause you can doesn't mean you should have to,” he shrugs, looking away from her softening eyes.
They're skirting around the question he's been wondering this entire journey, a question that is completely inappropriate to be wondering when her grief is so fresh and their lives are at stake as the storm continues to gust around them.
Yet he sees the way she avoids Ezekiel now, sees the desperate jealousy in The King's eyes when he sees them talking, sees the pale skin of her finger where the ring has been missing for 34 hours. Something has already happened.
She says nothing for a while, only lays further back against his pack while scooting her legs closer. She smells of mint and snow and wool and he craves her touch now more than ever before, and something about the soft hum from her lips makes him think maybe she feels the same.
A cough from below is a much needed distraction, and he clears his throat as Michonne stirs awake, stretching against the cement and then turning in their direction.
“You guys get some sleep, I'll stay on watch for a while,” her voice grave but warm, the familiarity tugging something deep in him. Nostalgia, maybe?
He nods before laying back fully, his arm folded behind his head so he leaves some pillow space for Carol.
“Reminds me of the prison,” he says to her after a while of silence, tilting his chin to his chest to see her better, but she's done a good job at burrowing deep in her coat, only a bit of hair poking through. “That second winter, it was something else having those secure walls around us. Still cold but nothing was worse than that first one.”
“I don't know, there was something so cozy about celebrating our first Christmas in the break room of an Office Max,” she deadpans, shivering closer to him.
The makeshift paper clip ornaments, the green and red Post-it notes they put along the large front glass window, the uncomfortable sexual tension between Lori and Shane…has it really been almost a decade since then?
“Remember when Glenn tried to flush his shit down with a bucket of snow?” He asks, grumbling a laugh just at the thought, the disappointed cop lecture that Rick had given him, and the sympathetic pat Hershel had given Glenn.
Carol giggled next to him, curling her knees against the side of his thigh, and he's suddenly warmer than he's been all night.
“Or when Beth and Maggie started singing Carol of the Bells for the twentieth time to help me ‘cope with my grief,’” she snorted and he huffed beside her.
“What, you mean to tell me their sisterly harmonies didn't soothe you?”
Maybe it's the cold that gives him the courage, or maybe that funny feeling again, nostalgia, that brings with it warmth and comfort and every gooey emotion he's feeling right now, but his arm is around her before he can think twice about it, pulling her close enough to feel the line of her body against his side, her thigh resting against his own, so warm and so soft and he might have an issue soon if he doesn't pull himself together.
Her hand tucks against the buttons of his coat, and he exhales slowly, willing himself any ounce of control before he really embarrasses himself.
“Daryl?” There's a shift in her voice, her breath against his neck bringing a shiver through his body. This isn't going to be another Christmas throwback, he can tell at least that.
“Hm?”
“I broke things off with Ezekiel,” she starts, and it's like all the blood on his body rushes through his ears, his pulse thrumming heavily through his temples until the snow is muted and her voice is gone and the only thing left are those words against his neck.
He says nothing.
“I was, uh, wasn't sure if I'd be welcome back at Alexandria, do you think? We're gonna stop at Hilltop so I can stay there if you think that'd be best. I just, I need some space from him, from him looking at me like- like I-”
She doesn't continue, and he's trying hard, fuck he's trying harder than he ever has to keep his cool in check, to listen and to be a good friend the way she needs him to be and not to get too hung up on the fact that she just asked if she could come back to live where he lives, to-
“When I look at him, I know he sees the woman who got her son killed.” She dashes a mittened-hand across her cheek before grabbing his own, her thumb rubbing the cracked knuckle of his thumb.
“And he's not wrong but I can’t- I won't survive if I keep-” She breathes shakily, worrying her bottom lip until it's angry and red, her teeth pulling on a snag of dried skin. He holds her eyes with his own. “He's wrong,” he tells her without saying a word.
“You look at me like I'm me,” she murmurs into the darkness, shrugging as if that's the easiest thing in the world to say, as if they aren't looking at each other right now in a way that says a whole lot more than that.
“C’n stay with me,” he says, his voice gruffer than it was five minutes ago. He clears his throat again, turning so he's facing the ceiling and not her, so the wind can hopefully cool him down for one goddamned second because holy shit did he just ask her to live with him? As in his tiny basement with one bed that isn't even a bed they'd be sharing with Dog?
“Or I'm sure that you can share with Susan, she’s had extra room since her husband passed. Sure she wouldn't mind one bit,” he fidgets as he waits for her response, scratching an itch he doesn't have.
“I don't want to annoy you,” she says quietly, quiet enough to miss if his entire existence didn't rely on what she said next. Nah, he wasn't going to miss a second of this.
“You never annoy me,” he says. It's as simple as that, her presence makes him happier, no matter the day, no matter the year, no matter the hour. But how does he tell her that, show her that without exposing his biggest secret of all?
“Okay,” she whispers, something brightening in her eyes and fuck he needs to change the subject before he says too much. Okay. Okay. Okay. One word and it's like a bandaid, no, like stitches for the things she said earlier, that scared him more than anything else. Okay, I'll live with you.
“Almost Christmas, we can make those ornaments again,” he says lamely, and he cringes at his own awkwardness, at his inability to follow through with-
She laughs sharply, loud enough for a few people to stir below, and fuck if that isn't the best sound he's heard in a while.
“The paperclip ones?! Daryl those were so bad,” she sniffs another laugh, grinning in his direction.
“Well sorry I'm the only creative one out of the bunch of ya,” he nudges her. “Now that you mention it, I think I have some extras laying around in my Christmas storage bin from last year.”
More laughter, and he can't stop from smiling now, can't help but relish in that sound, or in the hope that fills him now, that maybe, maybe, they do have a future.
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Saw the post w/ the prompt list and you said is open
If you don't mind, can you do 🥘 w/ Dazai from BSD?
(hope I did this right)
I don't mind at all Anon! (and no worries, you did it right <3)
CWs: gn!reader, petnames (dear), maybe a little ooc Dazai
Acts of service prompts: open!
[ 🥘 ] - having dinner ready for them when they arrive home
It wasn't rare for your boyfriend to greet you at the door the moment you get home, leaning in to place a kiss on your cheek. It was rare, however, for the man to greet you in the form of standing in front of you, hands folded behind his back. You stop midway on taking your shoes off, making sure to give him a glare that conveys your suspicion. "What did you do Osamu?"
"Im just greeting you, as always," comes his 'innocent' reply. His little smile that was meant to sell the idea that nothing out of the ordinary was going on did, in fact, not help his case at all. If anything, it just dug him further into whatever hole he's got himself into. You just hope there’s no actual holes involved.
For the next handful of seconds that passed you kept your gaze trained on him, analyzing all you could. There were no new injuries on his person (thank god), he didn't smell of river water or trash (thank god again) and, while he was smiling, it wasn't one that had sinister undertones. What the hell could it be then? "Don't lie to my face, what did you do?"
"I'm wounded dear. Do you really not trust me?"
"No." Yes, you actually think, but it's okay to tease him every now and then. Besides, you know that he knows you trust him with all that you are. "Either admit to your crimes dear or I'm walking out this door and having dinner with Yosano instead."
And he laughs - head thrown back and shoulders shaking as if you’ve said the funniest thing in the world. You didn't know what to expect from your empty threat, but it certainly wasn't to be blessed by the sounds of his merriment, "I was right, you are cute when you're mad." You’re truly dumbfounded but its admittedly difficult to suppress a smile of your own.
You goof, "is that what this is about? You wanted to see me mad?" you ask, resuming taking off your shoes and coat.
"No," he says, grabbing your hand the moment it’s unoccupied and encasing it in his, "I actually wanted to show you something." Oh god… spoke too soon.
Sighing, you nod in the direction of further into the house, letting him drag you to wherever it is this surprise is waiting. And a surprise it sure is.
How'd he know? When the hell did you ever say that this was your favourite? "I asked our friends if you're wondering." He really must’ve if he was able to lay out a dinner that’s exactly to your tastes. It appears freshly put out too, like he just finished pouring the last glass before you walked through the door.
You’re about to melt into a puddle of goo, embrace him and place kiss after kiss on his face when a devious idea entered your thoughts. Crossing your arms, you smirk and close your eyes, aiming for an expression between smug and smartass, “and you didn’t burn down the place? I’m shocked Osamu.”
Immediately a newfound weight bogs down your shoulder, your lover leaning himself on you, “I’m hurt! What makes you think I didn’t know how to do such a simple task like cook?” You don’t see it - you’re too busy trying to keep yourself from falling over - but he has the back of his hand pressed against his forehead, one eye closed and the other peeking towards you to catch your expression.
“Oh, I don’t know Osamu, maybe because when I first met you you smelled like a rotting corpse and when I first went to your house your dishes were staked in the sink.”
“I was going to do them later that day!” Having enough of being made fun of, Dazai reaches towards your unprotected sides, you unaware of the onslaught of torture you’re about to receive. “Besides, that didn’t stop you from loving me did it?”
“No, I suppose nOAAHHT!?” Twisting in his hold, you begin your perilous fight for air, but your lover is ruthless, not letting you go for a second. You end up bumping into the table and the chairs a few times, rattling the dishes on top. Ordinarily you’d be worried about them falling and breaking but right now you’re having too much fun with the silly man you fell in love with.
Then it happened. Looking down you find that your hand has landed right in the middle of one of the dishes. All playfulness stopped for a breath, both of you frozen as you just stood and stared… before bursting into fits of giggles, straightening up from the hunched over position you found yourselves in.
“How does this sound,” you pat at his arm, them still encircling your form, “you let me wash up and we can eat the no doubt yummy food you’ve made.”
“Fine by me,” he lets you step out of his hold, watching as you turn to leave only to stop a second after.
“Oh, and Osamu?” The man hums then makes a noise of surprise when you pull him closer, placing a kiss on his lips. Easily he kisses back, and as you pull away you drop your voice to a whisper, “thank you for making dinner, I had a rough day today, so this was really nice to come home to.”
Kissing him one last time you back up and turn to walk towards the bathroom again, leaving a smiling Osamu Dazai in the middle of the kitchen.
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Now that HOTD Season 2 is over, I have a lot of thoughts about what has transpired. Full disclosure: I basically wrote an essay, so long post ahoy! I have read the book, meaning there are a couple book spoilers in here along with show spoilers. Also: there are all my personal opinions, so you may agree or disagree.
The Good
The show is beautifully shot and the cinematography is excellent. We've gotten some really gorgeous shots this season.
The dragons look great, they're animated well, and I like how we can really see their different personalities and their relationships with their riders.
The acting is solid pretty much across the board. Folks like Emma D'Arcy, Matt Smith, and Olivia Cooke are excellent as usual. The standout for me this season, though, is Tom Glynn-Carney as Aegon. He's thoroughly fleshed out his character and given him some really interesting shading and depth and I really enjoy watching him on-screen.
Some excellent new additions to the cast! Ser Simon Strong is a national treasure, Gwayne Hightower is a mood, Alys Rivers is who I aspire to be in life, and the Hull brothers are both interesting (especially their dichotomy) and they better show more with them as per the book.
Rook's Rest gave us our first real dragon battle of the show, and I thought it was really well done. I was concerned that it would be the kind of fight that's hard to follow visually, but it was clean and worked nicely. I also love that they made Aemond torching Aegon a conscious choice.
The costumes are, once again, beautiful.
The embroidery title sequence kicks a lot of ass, and I like how they're adding to it with major events.
I do really like how they've made Helaena a dreamer (which they started in season 1) and how she's a tragic Cassandra figure. However, I do have some issues with her that I'll talk about later.
The Red Sowing was done well. I was hoping we were going to see some people get incinerated to really underscore how dangerous claiming a dragon can be, and that did not disappoint.
Little Oscar Tully verbally suplexing Daemon through an announcer's table was everything I've ever wanted.
I really like the relationship between Rhaenyra and Alicent. That said, I think there are some real issues with the writing that I'll discuss below.
Big fan of them putting Tyland Lannister in Situations.
Aemond committing war crimes and serving cunt as ye olde Sephiroth. 10/10 no notes.
While I do think the tripping balls in Harrenhall arc went on for far too long, I like how the show is leaning into the magic of the world with the weirwoods and insane visions of the past, present, and future.
Women kissing
The Bad
The pacing. Listen, I like a slowburn (one of my favorite horror movies is The Witch which many people find boring), but the slow pacing has to build to something, and this entire season felt like it was just build-up with no payoff. Last season ended with a consequential event (death of Luke), and this season began with another (Blood and Cheese), yet I don't feel like those events have managed to push the plot forward. Even Rook's Rest, which seemed like we were finally getting the ramp up to all-out war that's been teased for one and a half seasons due to Aegon being burned and Rhaenys dying, didn't really ramp up the stakes. We're still waiting for the war, and it feels like Season 2 was just a giant teaser for Season 3 rather than a stepping stone of the whole story. Think of it this way: season 1 ended with a build-up to the war and yet somehow this season also ended as a build-up to the war. It doesn't feel like progress was made; we're essentially in the same spot. The season should have ended with either the taking of King's Landing or the Battle of the Gullet.
Blood and Cheese. There is a reason this event lives in infamy for book readers. It's essentially the Red Wedding of the Dance of Dragons, because of how truly heinous and horrifying of an event it is. But the show toned it down a lot, and I think that was a mistake. Not to mention the fact that the death of Aegon's heir, who was a literal child, only seemed to be an issue for about an episode, and then everyone kind of forgot about it. Frankly, I don't like how the deaths of Luke, Jaehaerys, and Rhaenys were somewhat glossed over other than an episode of some characters being sad. Those deaths should have reverberated with long-ranging consequences and I don't feel like that's the case.
The writing. It's just not as good this season. Yes, I know the writer's strike probably affected it, but still. The conversations are nowhere near as engaging or interesting as they were in season 1, and I'm someone who loves dialogue scenes of political intrigue. I also think some of the character decisions they've made don't work. The biggest issue I have in that regard is with Rhaenyra. I don't actually hate the scene in the Sept (even though I think it is kind of silly how Rhaenyra managed to sneak into KL without being detected), because I like how they establish that Alicent knows that was wrong in her assumption about Aegon and yet she doubles down and they both realize that war is now inevitable even if it all began because of a misunderstanding. But book Rhaenyra is both far more active and ruthless than her show counterpart. There's a reason they call her "Maegor with teats". I thought we were getting some of that "warrior queen Visenya" Rhaenyra during the Red Sowing episode, but the fact is that she's spent most of the season trying to decide on a course of action and trying to do everything peacefully. She should have thrown that out the window after her conversation with Alicent in the Sept. It's especially weird considering she ended season 1 out for blood for the death of Luke. I feel like the writers are afraid that having her sometimes make nasty decisions will make her unlikeable to the general audience. But by doing that, they've also reduced this fascinating woman into a shell of who she should be. Look at Dany and Cersei from GOT; both of them were women in positions of power who did not hesitate to make (sometimes bad) decisions and/or commit horrible acts to further their goals and guess what: for the most part, the audience liked them! Give me "blood and fire" Rhaenyra! Support women's wrongs! Make characters morally grey! LET WOMEN BE AWFUL!!
I also think that the writing is doing Alicent a disservice. They really don't know what to do with her, and its a shame because Olivia Cooke is great. She just feels rudderless to me.
It really looks like the show is cutting Nettles entirely and giving her plot to Rhaena and I don't like this choice. Nettles is an amazing character in her own right, and her relationship with Daemon is key for him to start changing his Targaryen supremacist worldview and for his arc as a whole. Plus, this takes away the significance of Rhaena and Morning at the conclusion of the Dance.
While I like Helaena being a dreamer, they need to give her more screen time and dialogue. Girl had almost nothing to do this season.
I wish we had seen more of Jace and Cregan in the North and the Pact of Ice and Fire. Not saying we need 20 minutes of that, but 5 would have been nice.
I like the idea of that big vision of the future in the finale, but knowing how GOT ended does soften the impact quite a bit. And I don't love that Daemon and Aemond kind of already know their fates?? That's definitely going to hurt their arcs going forward.
The season should have been 10 episodes. Having it be only 8 really messes with the pacing of the story. Not loving the 2 year breaks between seasons either.
The "Let's Wait and See"
Aegon said that Sunfyre is dead. I really hope he's wrong about that because boy howdy that will have major plot implications if Sunfyre really is dead.
DAERON REAL. It would have been nice if he had been mentioned in season 1 and actually seen in season 2, but at least we know he exists and isn't a cryptid. Hopefully we finally get to see him in action in season 3 because poor dude has just been implied for two whole seasons.
I hope we see more of the book's excellent side characters like Black Alys, Benjicot Blackwood, and Sabitha Frey (who we did technically see briefly, but if you're a book reader, you know what I'm talking about). I'd also like to see more Cregan.
Overall, I think the season was a mixed bag. I hope season 3 fixes some of the issues with pacing and writing, because they have a great cast and a show that looks beautiful.
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