#rum and cock | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

the-case-book-of-fanfiction · 1 year ago

Text

Burns Like Rum

Ship: Astarion x female!human!reader/Tav

Summary: Astarion's hunger worsens every day and you don't have any blood to spare—but that doesn't stop you from inadvertently tempting him at every turn. Luckily for both of you, you've both got the same idea to cure him of his hunger.

Word Count: 7,840 words

Warnings: sexual content (18+), menstruating reader, hungry Astarion, mutual pining, possibly OOC dialogue, vampire feeding, soft Astarion, no particular timeline but Astarion hasn't told you anything yet

18+ Warnings: period sex, fingering, oral (f receiving), hand job, bite kink, blood kink, aftercare, use of the words cunt & cock

Note: For my usual readers, more Stranger Things content is coming, I promise! But this bitey boy currently owns my heart so I'm gonna show him some love :)

☟ Continue below the fold ☟

Astarion was hungry, and it was entirely your fault, for more than one reason.

The first was that, almost a month ago now, you had let Astarion drink from you. He'd been starving, and it didn't help that the others had given him strict rules about feeding, so when he flashed those sad but gorgeous red eyes at you, complaining of hunger, you'd all but gifted him your neck.

He'd practically drained you that night. You had been weak for days. Of course, the others, namely Gale and Lae'zel, were furious with you for letting him drink from you, but the sated, content look on his face after feeding made it all worth it to you. He'd become more comfortable around you after that, too, and you'd considered that an improvement.

It hadn't been all that bad, really, for him to sink his teeth into you and drink until your grip on him had grown so weak that he'd let up to check on you. In fact, it had been...rather pleasant. He'd been gentle, careful, his bite sharp but considerate. You knew then that you'd risk becoming anemic for a week just to feel the pleasure of his hand cradling your neck and head, his mouth against your neck, his tongue soothing the bite he'd left when he'd had his fill.

But in the weeks that followed, his hunger gradually returned, and with a vengeance. It was as if he'd never fed from you at all, suffering hunger pangs he hid from the others—but you noticed, recognizing them from the night he'd begged you to let him drink from you.

You'd offered him more of your blood since then, but he'd refused you every time. He could smell your guilt, your need to make him feel better simply because you felt responsible for his current pain.

"I won't accept blood from someone who feels obligated to give it to me," he'd said, and his tone made it difficult to tell if he was being snide or kind.

Sometimes, you simply didn't understand that man.

And then three days ago, you'd been injured in a fight. It was nothing fatal, the gash in your midsection missing any major muscles and not deep enough to jeopardize your organs, but it was bloody. You'd limped your way back to camp, your head swimming, the world around you growing darker around the edges with every step.

You'd fainted in Astarion's arms—although collapsed was a better word for it, according to Karlach—drenched in blood, some of which was yours and some of which that wasn't.

"You should have seen his face!" Karlach had laughed when you'd woken up the next morning, woozy but fine thanks to Shadowheart. The blood loss kept you off your feet for the day to recover, and Karlach had taken the time to visit you.

"What do you mean?" you asked, although you already had a good idea what might have happened after you passed out.

"You put him in a right pickle, collapsing on him like that, all covered in blood and losing more of it quickly," she said. "He didn't know what to do with you. It was— It was like he didn't want to drop you, but he really did want to drop you, because all he wanted to do was drink from you. Can't say as I blame him—he's not fed in weeks and you turn up with his next meal draining out of you." You hid your face in your hands with a groan. "Why'd you beeline for him anyway? Shadowheart's tent was just a few paces away!"

You glared at her through your fingers. "You know why I went to him, Karlach!" She, of all people, would understand. She had been the first person to find out that, as much as you flirted with them all, Astarion was the one you wanted.

"Well, obviously," she said, "but it didn't occur to you that he might...have an adverse reaction?"

Rolling your eyes, you snarked, "No, Karlach, it didn't, I was bleeding out and suffering from head trauma. I just...saw someone I trusted to keep me safe and ran to him."

She cocked her head to the side. "That's sweet, but stupid."

You snorted. "Yeah, I know—Shadowheart won't stop yelling at me for it."

You hadn't seen Astarion until that night, when the group of you had gathered at the campfire. It hadn't meant to be like that; you'd seen him and had wanted to talk to him, at least apologize for throwing your bloody body at him, but Shadowheart followed you closely to keep you safe and soon the others had gathered.

It had been like a very strange family dinner, made awkward by everyone dancing around exactly why you'd gone to Astarion, knowing a hungry vampire and fresh blood were not a good mix.

The final reason you were making his hunger unbearable made itself known at the end of the night, when it was just you, Astarion, and Shadowheart at the dying fire.

She must have caught sight of the way you kept looking at Astarion out of the corner of your eye, embarrassedly looking away or pretending to gaze into the trees behind him every time he caught you looking. She tapped your shoulder and told you she needed to get rest. The "you should, too" was implied, hanging in the air along with her worry about your healing.

"I'm fine, Shadowheart, really," you insisted. "I won't rip myself open again, I promise."

"I'll keep an eye on her," Astarion promised. "Nothing too...strenuous for her just yet." Something in his voice made you shiver.

She left the two of you alone. You looked first at the fire, then down at your hands, folded in your lap. Anywhere than at him.

You didn't even hear him move. You only knew he had when you felt him sit on the log beside you, one of his hands covering your own.

"Are you alright?" he asked, his voice soft. "I...am sorry I didn't visit you, it's just—"

"It's just that I threw myself at you when it looked like I'd taken a shower in blood and that made things a wee bit difficult?" you interrupted, the words spilling out before you had time to process that you were speaking. Embarrassed heat flushed through you instantly.

But Astarion only gave you that soft, slightly toothy smile. You drank it in, relishing his smile lines and the brief contentment on his face. "Something like that, yes," he said. "I was...worried I might hurt you if I saw you again and you still smelled so deliciously of your blood. I'm so hungry, darling, it's unbearable. All I wanted was to feast until there was nothing left of you, and I'd never forgive myself if I—"

"Stop." You held up your hand. "Please. I don't... Don't be so nice to me, it makes me feel like I'm on my deathbed."

Astarion laughed, throwing his head back. "I'd hardly call wanting to drain you nice, my love." Almost unconsciously, your gaze dipped to his exposed neck and you wondered idly what he would do if you were to bite him back.

Probably the strenuous activity Astarion had promised Shadowheart you wouldn't be doing.

He met your gaze, a sudden depth and seriousness in his crimson stare. "Stick with me, and you might soon be on your deathbed." Pointedly, he broke eye contact with you, letting his eyes drop first to your neck and then further down your body. You tingled, the feeling reminiscent of the anemia that had possessed your body in the hours and days after he'd drank from you.

You realized Astarion was waiting for a reaction from you, hoping for something more than your stunned silence. So you let your eyes drift across his body, resting on his mouth as you said, "Doesn't sound like a bad way to go out."

From the back of his throat came a sound that wasn't quite a growl or a groan, but somewhere in between, just as needy as either sound. "Don't tempt me, darling," he whispered. "I promised Shadowheart I'd keep you safe, and you certainly wouldn't be if I did everything I want."

Your heart skipped a beat. "Astarion..."

He closed his eyes, leaning toward you, releasing a tense breath. "Darling..."

"What if I want to tempt you?" You put your hand on his leg, sliding closer to him.

"Cheeky thing," he said, eyes opening in small slits. "But only when you're healed. I can still smell the blood on you." He sighed. "You have no idea how much restraint it takes not sink my teeth into that pretty neck of yours."

You frowned. "But I am healed," you said. "Just tender. Shadowheart wouldn't have let me leave her tent otherwise."

"I can't blame you for wanting me," Astarion teased, that familiar charm honeying his words, "but I've never been wrong." He cupped your cheek, his touch taking the bite out of his words. He offered you a small, sympathetic smile.

You put your hand to your abdomen, half-expecting to find that your wound had ripped open of its own accord. Your shirt and the bandage beneath it was dry—but a sudden twinge of pain, appearing only once it had been acknowledged, came from lower. You hissed.

Astarion sat up straighter. "What is it? Are you alright?"

"Shit. I think I've figured out why you still smell blood," you said through clenched teeth.

Astarion's eyes dipped to where your hand rested. "It's that time again already, is it?"

"It's early," you groaned. You stood slowly, regretting it instantly.

He tracked you as you moved, his gaze becoming dangerous and predatory. It was the look that had scared you when he drank from you, practically convincing you he wasn't going to stop. Still, his need for you burned through you like rum, its heat spreading through your belly.

"I didn't smell it before, not under all the blood you had on you," he said. His voice was deep, dark, dangerous. "But, oh, darling—I smell it now." He licked his lips and your stomach did flips that were neither pleasant or unpleasant. The hunger in his eyes was palpable

"I, ah, have to go. For your sake and mine. Um. So, uh, goodnight, Astarion. I...I'll see you when this is all over."

He stood up quickly. "Darling, do you need—" He cut himself off as you waved away his concern, crossing the camp to your own tent.

"No! Goodnight!" you called over your shoulder.

Astarion sighed. "...Night."

~❊~

You avoided Astarion like the plague. Well, perhaps not, because while you never wanted to see the disease, you were always on the lookout for your favorite vampire.

You caught glimpses of him through the open flaps of your tent, sauntering by with a swagger you found unfairly attractive. You saw him reading on his own when Shadowheart helped you changed your bandages, his handsome face fixed in concentration. A few hours later, you heard him arguing with Gale about the very same book, which had apparently gone missing, and you hated the flutter in your stomach at the growl in his angry voice.

"Stop that," Karlach said, glancing up at you as the pair of you cooked, Karlach helping you roast root vegetables evenly.

"Stop what?"

"Mooning over him," she said, jerking her head in Astarion's direction.

Your body flushed with heat. "I'm not—"

"You are, and we can all tell, and you should just get it over with, but only if you mean it."

You frowned, tearing your eyes away from the blessed sight that was Astarion basking in the sun. "Sorry, what?"

Karlach sighed. "If you sleep with him—" You spluttered. "—it had better be because you truly want him and not because you're bleeding."

You blinked at her. "Karlach, of course I want him, you've heard me talk about him before this!"

"I know, I know," she relented, "but I have a feeling there's more to our vampire than meets the eye." She glanced over at Astarion. "Just...be kind to him, dear. He's more fragile than he looks."

You followed her gaze over to him. He was stretching, his arms lifted high above his head, undoubtedly oblivious to the two of you watching him. Want and need bubbled up inside of you, both clamoring for Astarion, agreeing that he would fulfill them both. The deep-seated lust you'd had for him since he'd first put a knife to your neck burned even brighter as the breeze that had been kicking up dust all morning played with the silver hair curling around his ears.

His nostrils flared and you knew he'd smelled you. He looked over at you and Karlach and you froze. She waved cheerily, then frowned at you when you didn't move. You swallowed harshly and went back to removing the scales from the fish in your lap.

"He doesn't like not being around you either, you know," Karlach said, returning to the task at hand. "He's always looking at you when you're not looking. You're perfect for each other like that."

"I don't want to make this harder for him by being around him," you said, glancing back over at him. He was watching you as he poured himself a glass of wine. Had it been normal circumstances, when you weren't driving him insane simply by smelling like blood, you would have teased him for day-drinking. "He's already so hungry, I'd only make that worse. It was bad enough I threw myself at him covered in his favorite snack!"

Karlach snorted. The sound of a light laugh floated over to you and you looked up to find Astarion smirking into his goblet. He beckoned you over and your eyes grew wide.

"Excuse me for a moment, Karlach," you said, clearing your throat.

Karlach followed your gaze and giggled. "More than a moment, dear. I'll come back later to help you finish this." She left the log you'd been sharing and you waited until she was in her own tent again before you jumped to your feet and practically ran to Astarion.

"Hello, darling," he purred. "Care for a drink?"

"I could go for a little," you said.

Astarion smiled, that rakish charm summoning warmth that spread through your entire body. "I hope you like red," he said, and put his own goblet to your lips.

You held his gaze as you drank. You saw his nostrils flare, his pupils growing large. You knew he could hear how your heart was racing, could smell your arousal mixing with your blood.

He pulled the goblet away from your lips and took another swig. You licked the red wine off your lower lip and heard the breath catch in his chest.

"You're starving, aren't you?"

"You have no idea," he whispered.

"I might," you said. "Thought I'd say it's a hunger of a different kind."

Astarion's smirk was so wide you could see his fangs clearly. "Oh, really, darling?"

You nodded, taking a step closer to him. He breathed in deeply. "We could help each other, you know. Satiate our hungers."

His eyes grew dark, trained on yours. "Is that so?" He raised his hand, nearly brushing your cheek, but stopped himself just before he touched you. "You'd let me soothe your pain by..." His gaze dropped to your waistline. "...eating from you?"

A tremor passed through you at the sound of his voice, deeper than you'd ever heard it, laced with a danger and a seduction you were embarrassed to find attractive. Your body was tuned to it, his words seeming to drop like a stone from your ears to your core, spreading fire through your veins and melting your organs.

Astarion took a small step closer to you and took your chin in three gentle fingers, tilting your head up toward him. For a moment, you thought he might kiss you then and there. "I'm going to need an answer, darling."

"Yes." You couldn't get the word out fast enough. It came out breathy, nearly lost on the wind still swirling between you.

He chuckled. "Well, then. You asked for it." He dropped the hand on your chin back to his side. "Once everyone else is asleep, come find me. We'll find a quiet place and...have a little fun."

~❊~

Of all the nights, it had to be this one where everyone came to check on you before they went to sleep. Thanks to Astarion avoiding you like the plague when the two of you had become inseparable, your monthly bleed had become public knowledge. So practically everyone in camp came to you with solutions you declined, claiming to feel fine, even though your pain had worsened over the course of the day.

You watched Astarion slink off into the forest after the sun had gone down and waited until the others were sequestered in their tents, nearly an hour later, to pull your boots back on, stand on shaky feet, and follow the path you assumed he'd taken.

You had started to believe you'd taken a wrong turn somewhere when you heard his cool voice from behind you: "There you are. I've been waiting."

Astarion stepped out of the shadows. He ran his gaze over you, observing your slightly hunched stance, your hand on your lower abdomen. Your shoulders relaxed at the sight of him; he looked softer in the moonlight. The silver light fell across his curls and the statuesque panes of his face, somehow making that face that was so gaunt with hunger unbelievably beautiful.

He looked like a poet or a god, even in just the simple shirt he insisted on wearing around camp instead of the finer silks you knew he carried with him. Or perhaps it was the simplicity that made him so godly. You couldn't tell.

A frown graced his brow. "The pain is worse now, isn't it?"

You nodded. "Just a bit."

Astarion left the small hill he stood on and came closer to you. He offered you his hand. "Come on, dear, let me make you feel better."

You let him guide you away from the path you had taken and into a small clearing just a few feet away, conveniently hidden by thickets, trees, and tall grass. He stood aside, letting you take it in for a moment, as if waiting for your approval of the place. You looked down at the mossy ground and decided it would be soft enough.

"Well, this is nice," you said, seconds before you heard fabric rustling. You turned and blinked rapidly at what you saw: Astarion, his shirt now off and in his hands. You watched him lay it down where the ground was most level. Your breath caught horribly in your throat at the sight of the scar covering his back. You fought back the urge to ask, knowing it would only piss him off.

He turned back to you with a smile. "Your bed for the evening, my love," he said, gesturing to it.

"Oh, Astarion, I can't, I don't want to get blood on your shirt. What would the others—"

Astarion cupped your face in one hand. "The others will assume I hunted something and got messy," he said. "And I'll enjoy your scent while I have it."

Flutters in your stomach nearly brought you to your knees. You looked up at him, drawing in a tiny breath, and brought your hand up to hold the wrist that cradled your cheek.

"Please," you whispered, unsure of exactly what you were begging for but knowing what you wanted.

"Promise me you'll tell me if...I'm too much," Astarion said, and you got the sense he'd changed what he was going to say.

You nodded, whispering your promise, and wound your free hand into the hair at the nape of his neck, standing on your tiptoes to push your lips to his.

It was a messy first kiss. It was little more than teeth and spit, but it felt like heaven anyway, because his free arm was winding around your waist and pressing your bodies together, his leg sliding between yours. Bliss spread through you, starting at your core.

Astarion pulled away from you. "Someone's eager, isn't she?"

You whimpered and he stifled it with another kiss, softer than the first. He was gentle, more than you'd expected from a starving man. He cupped the back of your head and your hand dropped to his hip. You opened your mouth to him and reveled in the feeling of his tongue sliding against yours. He made a soft sound of satisfaction and pushed his leg up against your clothed core. You moaned loudly, your grip on him tightening. Need flooded you and your hips pushed down on his leg, finding relief in the pressure.

The two of you pressed your foreheads together, breathing heavily.

"Shh, darling, not too loud. You don't want the others to come investigate, do you?" His cheeky tone suggested he would love it if the others found the two of you like this—or, perhaps, further along.

You wrapped both arms around his neck and buried your head into his shoulder, heat burning through you, a mix of embarrassment and pleasure. You felt like there was a pendulum inside you, swinging constantly between wanting to slow down, afraid of coming off as too eager, and desperately needing him to get to it.

Astarion chuckled. "Don't hide, love." He smoothed his hand over your hair. "You do trust me, don't you?"

You kissed his shoulder and heard his breath catch. "With my life, Astarion."

"Are you ready?"

You nodded and he walked you over to his shirt and helped you to sit on it. He watched you lay down, his gaze falling your exposed neck. There was something more than hunger in his eyes; it made your breathing hitch.

Astarion crawled over you and placed his hand underneath your head before he kissed you. You draped your arm over his shoulders, holding him close to you, enjoying the soft touch of his lips against yours. It was chaste, as were the next few that followed it in quick succession, one after the other.

One hand slid down your body and stopped at the hem of your trousers. He tugged at the shirt tucked into them. "Darling? May I?"

"Please do," you said.

"Arms up."

He pulled the fabric over your head and tossed it to the side. He looked down at your torso from where he straddled your hips. His hands skimmed over you and he leaned down, pressing more gentle kisses to your neck and collarbones. Your body tingled with remembrance, practically yearning to feel his fangs sink into your neck, to feel your blood leave you with a burning that felt like intoxication.

"Astarion." His name was a breathy cry on your lips, and you saw how much he liked the sound of it when he looked up at you, a smile curving onto the lips still pressed to your skin.

"Yes, dear?"

You gently coaxed him back up to you with your hand on his chin. "Let me kiss you."

He smiled, brighter than the moonlight falling around you, and you pressed your mouth to his. He hummed happily into your mouth, a pleasant sensation that made you reluctant to break the kiss. But you did, kissing along his jaw and down his neck instead. You nipped gently at his neck, pulling a surprised laugh from him.

"Really, darling? Biting the vampire?" Astarion's eyes were sparkling with amusement. His face had relaxed into an easy smile. It was a good look on him; you liked it.

You giggled and placed another kiss over the bite. The pair of you rolled onto your sides and you peppered his chest with kisses, your arm wrapped loosely around his waist. You went back up to his neck and sucked lightly.

"So much for the others not knowing," he teased.

You looked at him through your lashes. "What if I want them to know?"

"Cheeky little thing," he whispered, dragging a finger down the side of your face. "As much as I love this—and believe me, I do love this—I can't wait any longer. I'm starving, darling. Let me taste you. Please."

Slightly subdued, you rolled onto your back. "Alright," you whispered, your chest tightening in anticipation.

Astarion climbed on top of you again. He undid the laces at the front of your trousers and slipped his hand inside them, moving slowly and keeping his eyes locked on yours.

The moment two of his fingers slid between your wet folds, your eyes fluttered shut and a happy sigh slipped from your lips.

"There she is," he whispered, his eyes half-lidded, as he worked you gently and slowly. You felt the blood and arousal gather on his fingers as he grew closer to your entrance. He dragged them back up to your clit and rubbed in a slow circle. You gasped, arching into his touch. Astarion giggled. "Oh, you like that, don't you?"

You wriggled underneath him, trying everything in your power to get more of his touch. He smiled down at you, kissing your cheek and cooing softly at you. If he spoke words, you didn't hear them, too lost in the pleasure he easily, skillfully, brought to you.

Without warning, Astarion plunged both fingers into your entrance. You moaned, grabbing at his hair. He chuckled, curling his fingers inside you. Whimpers slipped past your lips; you couldn't have controlled them if you tried, but you were by no means trying. His smile grew with every sound you made, and you wanted nothing more than to see that smile.

Just as suddenly as he'd pushed his fingers in, he pulled them out. You whined instantly but he shushed you and removed his hand from your pants. A small streak of blood was left on the skin of your stomach as he raised his hand to his mouth. You watched raptly as he licked your blood from his fingers, never once breaking eye contact with you.

He wasn't even touching you and the fire in your belly grew at the sight.

Astarion moaned softly around his fingers. You watched his deft tongue catch every drop of blood, thinned by your arousal, from his hand. He whispered your name in a whine and you let go of a long breath.

Once he'd licked his fingers clean, he bent down and yanked your trousers off your legs. You spread them automatically and he put one leg between them. He pulled off your undergarments and sat back, admiring your naked body with a satisfied smirk.

"Look at you," he whispered.

The need for him to touch you won out over the desire for him to keep staring at you. "Astarion." His name was a loud whine, emphasized by your writhing hips.

He chucked. "Needy girl." His hand returned to your cunt, his palm applying pressure to your clit while his fingers toyed with your bloody folds. His eyes practically rolled into the back of his head, the smell of blood so heady even you could smell it.

He teased your entrance for a moment and pulled his fingers back up, the tips of them coated in thick blood that looked black in the night. He sucked it from his fingers with a toothy smile, his fangs peeking out over his bottom lip.

You pushed your hips up enough to catch his eye. "Please," you whimpered.

"Alright, love, alright," he said. He put his hand back and slipped his fingers back inside you. Relief curled through you—as did his fingers. "I'll starve myself a bit longer for your pleasure."

You cupped his neck and brought his face to yours and kissed him fiercely. He made a surprised but pleased sound into your mouth and quickened his pace. You gasped against his lips and he ducked his head to your neck, kissing you quickly with every curl of his fingers.

You twisted your fingers through his hair, rapidly kissing the top of his head, pushing your hips up into his hand. He chuckled, his breath ghosting over your skin and raising goosebumps. You shuddered in his arms.

"I've got you," he murmured, sucking a light mark into your neck. You felt his teeth prick you and saw the shudder that passed through his body at the tiny droplets of blood that appeared.

He pulled away from your neck and curled his fingers just so. You groaned.

"Astarion!" you cried, throwing your head back.

He grinned and quickened his pace. You sucked in a deep breath, fighting back tears of pleasure.

"Let go, darling," he whispered. "I've got you."

Astarion looked back down at your neck. He locked eyes with you as he pressed his tongue to your skin, slowly licking up the droplets as they began to run down your neck. The combination of his intense stare and the movement of his fingers was all you needed; with a loud cry, you came on his fingers, your walls clenching so hard around him he could hardly keep moving them.

He chuckled. "That's it, dear, that's it." He cooed softly, helping you through it with his voice, his soft touch, and gentle kisses to your lips.

You were breathing hard when he finally pulled his fingers out of you. You whimpered at the slight pain but realized your cramps had all but disappeared.

Judging by the state of his hand, you didn't want to know how bloody his shirt was. It looked as though he'd reached into someone's chest and ripped their heart out; his hand was drenched and rivulets of blood ran all the way down to his elbow.

Astarion giggled at the sight while you burned with embarrassment. "Well, well, well. Someone's happy, isn't she?"

"So are you," you said, nodding to the bulge in his pants.

He grinned. "Well, what did you expect? You were quite vocal, my needy little thing." His eyes drifted back down to your cunt, lust curling through his gaze. "Tight and wet and utterly desperate for me."

He licked a stripe up his hand, his eyes fluttering shut. "Oh, darling, you taste good." He sucked your blood off of every finger, pleasure sliding over his face.

You smiled. "There's more where that came from."

Astarion raised one perfect brow. "Can you handle another little death?" he teased.

You nodded. "I can take a few more."

He chuckled and groaned at the same time. "Oh, my love, don't make promises you can't keep."

You met his gaze as he finished cleaning off his hand. "Believe me, I can keep it."

The vampire grinned. "Very well, then. I'll eat good tonight."

He kissed you chastely as he put his hand between your legs again.

Astarion brought you pleasure unlike anything you'd ever felt before as his fingers slid over your blood-slick skin, teasing your folds and entrance with a smirk, often just barely inserting the tip of his finger before pulling it out again and tracing over your clit and smearing blood across your skin. He kissed and sucked on your breasts, leaving darkening bruises and tiny scratches from his teeth, licking up the tiny beads of blood that sprung from each nick. He kissed along the line of scarring and stitches you had gotten from your injury, fading fast but still a reminder of what had gotten you on your back for him in the first place. Now that he'd eaten a little, he was intently focused on bringing you to the edge and pulling you back, again and again and again.

He worked another orgasm out of you and was on his way to coaxing out the third when you stopped him.

"Is it too much?" he asked, frowning. His unbloodied hand moved to rest on your hip, his thumb smoothing over your skin. His eyes searched your face, looking for anything to tell him why you'd stopped him.

You shook your head. "I need more, Astarion," you gasped, slurring his name into Astari. The unintended nickname made him blush. "I need more of you. Please. Please."

The smile returned to his face, cockier than before. "Oh, darling. I need more of you, too," he said, looking into your cunt and licking his lips. "I could just eat you up."

You spread your legs wider. He settled between them. "Please do."

He breathed in deep and his eyes practically rolled back into his head. "You're going to be the death of me— Ah. Well, you would be, if I was alive."

You frowned. "Would this even be happening if you were alive?"

Astarion thought for a moment. "Let's not think about the logistics," he decided and licked the drying blood from his fingers off your abdomen. Your body trembled. He lifted your legs over his shoulders. You squeaked and smiled at him.

"Lay back," he whispered. You obliged him.

Wet warmth touched your skin just above your clit and you glanced down at him, watching him slowly lick the drying blood from your skin. He kissed your skin as he cleaned it, leaving you covered in slowly darkening bruises.

You stared at the stars as he pressed a soft first kiss to your clit. You let out a slow breath and he began to suck, his lips closing around it, his tongue licking light stripes.

You pushed your hips against his mouth. "Circles," you whispered.

"As you wish," he said, his breath fanning over your cunt and making you tremble. He went back to his feast, licking in circles this time, and you let out a soft whimper. You reached down and he reached up, lacing your fingers together and squeezing your hand. You squeezed back.

He moved further down until his nose bumped your clit and his lips found your entrance. He moaned, the sound deep and guttural, at the taste of your blood. He lapped at your entrance, his tongue sweeping up the blood as soon as it collected there. You shuddered, your breaths coming in heaves.

Astarion kissed your entrance once before he dove in, pushing his tongue into your cunt. You gasped and he laughed and buried his face in you.

Through the pleasure, you wondered dimly how he was breathing (did he, as a vampire, need to breathe?), but the thought was pushed away the moment his splayed fingers on your hip dug into your flesh and pulled you even closer to his mouth.

The sounds you were making were obscene: your moans were loud and coarse, and your cunt squelched lewdly as he drank your blood and arousal. You felt filthy, aware that the mix was running down your legs and buttocks but knowing the vampire eating you out was enjoying you too much to care.

Astarion himself was quite vocal, moaning into you and making you shiver. He whimpered, whined, groaned, and keened, growing louder with every swallow of blood. He alternated between watching you writhe and squeezing his eyes shut in pleasure.

You watched his hand slide from your hip to his bulge. He palmed himself through his trousers, hissing in pleasure, and the sight was enough to send you over the edge for a third time.

But Astarion didn't let up. He lapped at you, sucking so harshly your pleasure bordered pain, until your legs stopped shaking and your breathing evened out.

He lifted his head with a grin. "How do I look?"

You looked at him and started laughing. He was the smiliest you had ever seen him, his eyes practically glowing, and the lower half of his face was covered in your blood. His teeth were stained red and sticky blood dripped slowly from his fangs. It ran down his chin in rivulets and splatters dotted his lower cheeks like freckles. Some of it was even in his hair.

"You're ridiculous," you giggled. "And a messy eater."

He snorted. "Excuse you!"

"It's all over your face!"

He sat up with a grin, licking his lips. "You mean you are all over my face."

Satisfaction curled through you. "Yes," you said, reaching for him. He took your hand again. "Yes I am."

He wiped his face with his hand and licked it clean once again. You reached up and wiped some off on your thumb, then held it out to him. He took your thumb into his mouth and sucked. Your heart stopped beating.

"Feeling better?" he asked you, lightly placing his palm over your abdomen, applying a little pressure, and rubbing gentle circles.

"Much better," you said. "Thank you. But, ah..." Your gaze drifted from his beautiful, if slightly pink, face and down to his bulge. It was just as, if not more, prominent now that he'd gone down on you. "What about you?"

Astarion smirked. "I like your enthusiasm, but don't worry about me. Not tonight, darling."

You frowned. "Why not? What if I want you inside of me?" You walked two fingers up his leg and slowly covered his crotch with your palm. When he didn't protest and his eyes fluttered shut, you gave him a gentle squeeze. He let out a soft moan through closed lips and tilted his head back. You kissed the column of his neck and bit down gently. You sucked—hard—and a rumbling moan came from his chest.

"Because," he said finally, drawing in a ragged breath. "Because that would be a terrible waste of your precious blood." He looked at you with half-lidded eyes. "When this is over, I promise you, you can have as much of me as you want." He pushed his hips into your hand and you gave him another gentle squeeze. He gasped.

You nuzzled into him and his arm wrapped around your shoulders, holding you there. "And what if I want all of you?"

The question hung in the air. He looked at you for a long time and suddenly you saw the fragility Karlach had mentioned this afternoon, which felt like years ago instead of mere hours. You reached up to cup his cheek and, though you were stark naked, the sexual desire in the air seemed to have disappeared.

"I want all of you, Astari," you whispered. The nickname made his eyes grow wide. "All of you, in every way, for as long as possible. If you'll let me. If you want me, too."

He whimpered, and the sound was broken. You hated hearing that pain coming from him. "I want you, I do, I just..." He closed his eyes and you were suddenly very sure there was a darkness, a secret, he was trying to hide from you. You were certain it had to do with his vampiric master he'd so often complained about. "I'll try, my darling, I'll try for you."

You sat up on your knees and cupped his face in both hands and kissed him. You didn't break the kiss once as you pressed your body against his and held him tightly. You felt the scar on his back and wanted to ask but didn't, letting him keep his secrets for now.

His arms came around you, cradling your back and holding you tight to him. The kiss became a long-lasting hug, the both of you burying your heads in each other's shoulders until Astarion pulled away from you, a smile on his face. You returned that smile and sat back on your heels.

His eyes trailed over your body again. There was a note of nervousness in his voice as he asked, "Darling, would you mind...touching me again? I could use some relief."

You grinned. "Of course, my love. All you had to do was ask."

Relief crossed his face. He leaned back as you trailed your hand from his shoulder, down his chest, and back to his bulge. You tipped his head back with your free hand and kissed his neck while you rubbed him. He pushed his hips into your hand, sighing blissfully, and your hand was in his trousers in seconds. He grew loud, thrusting his cock into your hand with a power that surprised you.

"Take what you need," you told him, your voice hushed, your lips directly next to his ear. "Help me give you what you want."

He whimpered, your name a broken cry from his lips, and he cuddled into you as he came. He buried his head into your neck, hiding his eyes and barely holding back grunts. As his thrusts grew weaker and you slowed your hand on him, you felt hot tears on your neck and wondered what this poor man had been through that he hadn't yet told you.

You removed your hand from his pants and he immediately wrapped you in another hug, one strong enough to knock you down and knock the breath of you. You held him as tightly as he held you.

When Astarion at last pulled away from you, his tears had stopped but his eyes still shone with them. He kissed you softly.

"Thank you," he whispered. "I... Thank you."

You brushed some of his hair from his face. "What's wrong?"

He shook his head. "Nothing. You were... It's just that no one has cared about me during sex in a very long time and...you did. So...thank you."

You took his hand and squeezed it. "Oh, Astarion," you cooed. "I always care about you. Like this or otherwise. You could stop this right now—or before it even began—and I wouldn't have stopped caring about you."

He smiled. "Oh, darling. I love the sentiment, but I'm not done with you yet."

Astarion kissed down your body and laid between your legs again. He licked another stripe up your cunt and you saw the coating of blood on his tongue before he swallowed. "Shall we try for a fourth? Or perhaps even a fifth?" He raised his brow, leaving the decision up to you.

You laid back. "We'll try for as many as you'd like," you said.

He bared his teeth in a feral grin. "All night it is!"

~❊~

You woke up the next morning sore and alone and with very little sleep.

Astarion had been relentless and stopped only when you simply couldn't take it anymore and he was practically drunk on your blood—all without making you bloodless and woozy. When you had finished for the final time, he had cleaned you up, helped you back into your clothes, picked up his own shirt, and walked you back to camp. He was so gentle that you didn't even mind the teasing about how you limped.

Dawn hadn't been far off as you each went back to your tents after exchanging a final, solid kiss. So you woke to the sound of everyone else beginning their day just a few hours later.

You felt the soreness in your core before you even moved. Biting back a sigh and not regretting it one bit as you pictured Astarion's happy, bloody face, you rolled over and hoped your recent injury would be enough for the others to let you sleep in.

You were wrong.

Shadowheart opened your tent a few minutes later with a urgency that made you jump.

"What? What's wrong?" you asked, blinking blearily in the bright sunlight.

"Are you alright? You never sleep in, you're always up making breakfast!"

You groaned. "Is that it? Are you just hungry?"

She peered at you. "Are you hurt? Did your wound reopen?"

"What? No! I'm fine, I'm just tired, that's all! I have lost a lot of blood recently, in case you forgot."

She sighed. "Oh. Alright. Well, just know the others are worried, too—Astarion especially."

You remembered how he'd checked in on you last night and had asked if he'd hurt you at all when you'd returned to camp and wondered if you had worried him by sleeping in. Suddenly you were grateful the others could chalk it up to his not-so-secret crush on you.

You dressed and hid the light bruises on your neck and collarbones in a high-collared shirt. You only noticed you were walking with a slight limp still after you'd left your tent and made your way across camp.

Karlach called your name and was at your side immediately. "You're limping! Are you hurt? Do you need me to fetch Shadowheart?"

You blinked at her. "What? No. I'm fine!"

"You don't look fine," Gale said, a few feet away, looking up from the book he'd been engrossed in for days. "Did you hurt your leg the other day? Or have your stitches ripped?"

"My, my," said a suave voice behind you. You turned and found Astarion grinning like a cat. "You do have quite the limp, there, darling. Are you sure you're alright?"

You huffed at him, your body remembering his touch immediately, his ghostly hands sliding across your skin. "I'm fine, I promise. Now hush and someone help me make breakfast."

Both Karlach and Astarion sat with you, Astarion very close to you and giving you a smile you couldn't help but return. Karlach stared at Astarion like he'd grown two heads, her gaze flickering between the two of you. She gasped very suddenly.

"Not a word," you hissed at her, knowing she'd figured it out.

Astarion smirked.

"And nothing from you, either," you added. "You're the reason I'm walking like this, you bastard."

He smiled sweetly at you, catching the fondness in the words. "And I gladly will be again." He took your hand and lifted it to his mouth, kissing it. Your eyes grew wide.

Karlach squeaked.

"You know nothing," you told her. "At least for a little while."

"Yes," Astarion agreed. "At the very least, tell Shadowheart nothing—I broke my promise to her to keep our dear girl from doing any strenuous activity."

You turned red and Karlach groaned, "Not before breakfast, please!"

Astarion opened his mouth—undoubtedly to say something about how you were technically his breakfast, based on the hour you'd returned to camp—but you moved quicker than he could speak. You grabbed him by the collar and yanked him toward you, kissing him heartily to shut him up.

A heavy silence settled over camp. You cracked one eye open and found the rest of your companions staring at the pair of you, mouths agape and eyes wide.

"Oops," Astarion muttered, sounding rather pleased.

You cleared your throat. "I, ah, I've been meaning to tell you all. Honestly."

Gale heaved a sigh. "How much do I owe you, Wyll?"

Your jaw dropped open. "You placed bets?!"

"Alright, you bloodsucker," Wyll said, holding his hand out and waiting for his payment from Gale. "You win."

"Yes," Astarion said, and you expected him to be wearing a smirk infused with his charm, his triumphant eyes on the others. But when you turned to him, he was staring at you, a dopey smile fixed on his face. "Yes, I did."

☞ ❊ ☜

Baldur's Gate 3 // Astarion Acunin

part 2 (Sweet Like Wine) {here}!

Taglist: {comment and let me know if you'd like to be added to the Astarion taglist!}

4K notes · View notes

chelseeebe · 6 months ago

Text

bump n’ grind

a lil continuation to gimme a hand wherein our lovely reader helps eddie out after an embarrassing mistake.

18+ mdni. again, mostly just smut. maybe some angst towards the end i guessss. eddie munson x female reader.

eddie’s on cloud nine.

his head floating well above the pretty pink room he was currently in.

not entirely sure how he ended up here but also not at all angry about it. a night of rum and beer had lead him to this.

sarah.. savanna.. something, sits atop of his lap, bouncing off of his thighs like a jacked up rabbit.

he’s clawing at her back, trying and failing, to keep a steady grip on her wild body. appreciating the soft squeaks that left her mouth with every bounce.

and before he can really think about it enough to stop his mouth, he says it. wanting to dig his own grave the second his lips spread.

a long, drawn out iteration of your name.

she stops, immediately. breathless as she grips his shoulders, “what’d you say?”

his cock aches and his cheeks burn, any hope that she’d just ignore it and continue had flown out of the window, “what?” acting clueless, “i didn’t.. didn’t say anything.”

eddie knows full well what had slipped out of his loose lips, muscle memory from the embarrassing amount of times he had whined your name while imagining that it was your hand wrapped around his cock instead.

“you said somebody else’s name,” she frowns, sounding far too close to a possessive girlfriend rather than the one night stand that she actually was.

“did i? i don’t really remember.. does it matter?” with full sincerity, wondering if she was going to stay on his dick or climb off and throw him out.

“if i’m having sex with someone, i at least expect them to know my name,” she scowls, clambering from his lap to the empty space next to him.

“shit,” he mumbles, head in his hands, “fuck. i’m sorry,” sobering up instantly, embarrassed by his blunder.

she sighs, taking pity on his pathetic self, “is she your ex or something?” re-dressing herself with an old t-shirt, rightfully putting an end to their encounter.

“no..” eddie frowns, shaking his head, “she’s my.. my friend.”

best friend actually. making it all the more confusing and complicated. he’d spare her of all the gory details, for her sake.

“oh,” the girl gawps, stifling her laugh. “you should tell her,” leaning over to grab her phone, no doubt to tell all of her friends about eddie’s embarrassing freudian slip.

he’d deserve it.

eddie perches on the end of your bed, not daring to move any closer for fear of losing it and touching you like he dreamed of doing.

it had been four months, two weeks and five days since you’d jerked him off in that tiny bathroom.

not that he was counting.

and still nothing more had happened between you. a few instances where eddie had thought you were close but nothing of any real consequence.

nevertheless, a day hadn’t passed since where he hadn’t thought about it at least once.

he’s memorised every single frame of that video, all the times you pant and twist your hand. the exact second his phone falls onto the counter and the video changes to an image of the back of his head.

every. last. detail.

you jab your foot into his back, peering over your phone screen to frown at him, “what’s wrong with you?”

eddie sighs, letting his shoulders slump, still staring at the torn ac/dc poster he had ripped off the wall for you. it reminds him too much of times where things weren’t so complicated.

“i hooked up with someone the other day,” he states monotonously, uncaring anymore about telling you what had really happened.

“okay?” you jab him again, “why are you sad about that?” confusion echoing.

“i’m not sad.”

you sit up, the mattress shifting behind him, “then what the fuck’s your problem?” leaning forward to rest your chin on his shoulder, in that similar position you were in all those months ago.

sometimes he wishes you’d never touched him. that he had just settled with chrissy and you had never been an option. not that you really were now, still unobtainable, taunting and teasing him.

“i said your name,” he exhales in one big breath, “i said your name while i was having sex with her.”

his shoulders felt lighter now, despite you still resting on them. something about the relief of finally letting you know how he felt. embracing his stupidity.

“really?” your mouth falls open, “holy shit, that’s funny,” he can feel your hands creep up his back, sending shivers over his skin.

eddie shakes his head, at a loss for words. he could see how you’d find it funny, but he couldn’t see the humour in it himself. in fact, it was a marker for the absolute desperation he felt towards your new complex relationship. not only had you taken over all of his waking thoughts, but you’d somehow subliminally crept into his intoxicated mind thoo.

“what were you thinking about? when you said it,” you pry, head twisting around to look at him.

“you.”

“me?” you rasp, right into his ear. “what about me?” feeling your breath against his cheek, transporting him straight back to wayne’s cramped bathroom.

his eyes fall shut, like he’s in some humiliation ritual, getting off to the way you teased him so.

“that video.. that stupid video,” he whispers, tuned in to every twitch of your fingers on his back, your soft breaths in his ear.

“oh,” he can hear the smirk in your voice, unwilling to open his eyes to see it again, “is that it? just the video?”

he doesn’t understand why you’re asking so many questions. obviously enjoying the way he squirmed under your touch, antsy and reluctant to say anything.

“i was.. picturing you were her,” he squeezes out, blood rushing to not only his cheeks, but his cock too.

“aw,” you coo, hand sliding higher, “tell me how it felt,” voice thick with desire, fingers circling around his shaking shoulders.

“good..” his eyes squeeze together, feeling his jeans shift uncomfortably, “not as good as you did,” almost begging, pleading for it.

you hum, your other hand finding the top of his thigh, dangerously close to the tent in his jeans.

if you kept this up, he’d cum all over his fucking pants.

you squeeze the skin, a low grumble from yours lips, “what position were you in?”

oh god.

“w-why?” eddie chokes, seeing stars behind his eyelids.

“i just wanna know, eds.. so i can picture the scene.”

his head tilts back, allowing you the opportunity to creep into the crook of his neck, traces of your lips just barely touching the sensitive skin.

“please tell me,” you mumble, vibrating against his trachea, making his toes curl, grounding himself with the rough carpet.

“she was on top,” he spits, balling his fist around your blanket.

it didn’t feel real between his fingers, poorly substituting your body for the cotton.

“oh,” you shift, the bed frame creaking as you clamber into his lap, resting atop of his thighs. “like this?”

he doesn’t open his eyes. can’t, not without cumming his pants right there. but he can feel you, perched just below his crotch,

“what’d she do now? hmm?” dragging your nails down his chest, your fingers prod at his skin, forcing him to flop back against the mattress.

the space allows you to shuffle upwards, your cunt brushing against his aching cock, leaving him no choice but to turn into pure mush beneath you.

“fuck,” he breathes, daring a glance in hopes to keep the image ingrained in his mind forever.

your hips begin to grind against his crotch, groaning softly with your palms flat to his chest.

“you like that?” you purr, rocking back and forth on top for he rough denim of his jeans.

“i need you.. fuck, please,” he keens, fingertips so firmly pressed into your waist that they’d leave indentations for days.

you don’t respond, sighing softly as the friction between you grows stronger, cruel and twisted in the way you tease him.

he doesn’t understand what all of these almost-encounters mean. it’s like you want him but not fully. holding yourself back for the right moment or perhaps just trying to keep him going until somebody else came along.

his hands slide around to your ass, moving with every jerk and cant of your hips. gruff, frustrated sighs leave his mouth, mixing somewhere in the air with your whiny moans. need and urgency ricocheting around the walls of your room, yet neither one of you prepared to take it all the way.

“jesus eds, are you gonna cum?” you breathe, as much as this was for his benefit, you were getting off as well.

that alone makes this other worldly. even if he was doing absolutely none of the work, you were writhing and gasping just as he was.

it’s almost incomprehensible how much you using him to get off was frying his brain.

eddie was about to combust, the closeness of it all, so near and yet still so far apart. two layers of clothes felt like a million miles. finally brave enough to open his eyes, hoping to keep this image seared into his brain forever.

“yeah.. yeah i’m gonna cum,” he whines, jerking his hips up to meet yours, rocking against each other in perfect rhythm, “please.. oh fuck- fuckfuckfuck,” his cock positioned perfectly between your folds, covering your pajama shorts with your slick.

“good boy,” you breathe, fingers twisted into his shirt, tugging at the fabric, not letting up on your torturous grinding.

your tone is somewhere between mocking and sincere, but he doesn’t care. doesn’t have the brain capacity to if he’s honest.

his cock twitches against his boxers, hips shuddering into the air as an uncomfortable warmth overtakes his crotch.

“oh god.. shit,” the sudden realisation of the mess in his pants, how grotesquely down bad he was for you, hits all at once.

your lips curve, shuffling down to the top of his thighs. you don’t exchange words, just a sly glance that erupts into giggles. leaning down to peck his lips as your hands let go of their hold on his chest.

eddie’s hands don’t move, gripping onto your hips, hoping you’ll stay there for the rest of eternity. not only had he cum in his pants, he had done so at a disturbingly fast rate. a few minutes of what was essentially dry humping had left him sticky and full of shame.

“are you ever gonna let me fuck you?” he asks, practically begging for your mercy, needing to know for his own sake.

he likes to think that if you said no, he’d be able to walk away with his dignity, to never let this embarrassing display for pathetic yearning happen again.

yet deep down, he also knows that that’ll never happen. you could string him along forever and ever and he’d never do a thing about it other than cherish the moments you let him touch you.

your laugh topples over, slinging your leg over his waist to kneel beside his lifeless body, “one day,” kneeing him softly in the side, “go get changed, i’m hungry,” climbing off of the mattress, disappearing from his eyesight.

his head flops back onto the bed, sweaty and exhausted, ignoring the feel of his boxers clinging to his skin and the inevitable wet patch seeping through to his jeans.

an insatiable churning in his stomach for more, for you.

but eddie is eddie, so instead of doing any of the things that he really wanted to do, he rolls off of your bed with a sigh, shimmying out of his jeans just as you’d asked him to.

#eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x you #eddie’s munson one shot

3K notes · View notes

tradgedyinwaves · 2 months ago

Text

First Choice - Part 1

Poly141! x fat!reader tw: self fat shaming, social anxiety, drinking, mention of male appendages at the end

This late Friday night found you where it always did. Alone after watching all of your pretty, skinny friends filter out into the crowd. The plush of your ass settled over the edges of the stool and you're grateful the bar is pretty dark, easier to hide. A glass of whiskey is being nursed in your hands while your eyes take in the crowd, effectively also checking on your friends.

As your eyes rove over, they settle on the back table, tucked into the corner and surrounded by four larger than normal men.

The one with the mohawk is the loudest by far, his boisterous Scottish brogue filtering over the sounds of the crowd. He's got a hand wrapped around a half finished bottle of beer while he loudly recounts a story that makes all of them groan like they've heard it a million times.

The dark skinned one had to be the prettiest man you'd ever seen. His long fingers danced along the side of a glass of what looked to be rum and coke. His chuckle made his shoulders shake, shaking his head at his comrade.

The one with the thick mustache was laughing along with the Scot's story, butting in with his own interjections when he had something to add. His meaty paw held a glass of bourbon while the other gestured a bit wildly with a lit cigar.

The one with the mask though. He had an almost full glass of whiskey in front of him, arms crossed over his chest as he scoffed at the Scot's story. He had been there and he knew that wasn't quite how it went. His eyes trailed from his buddies at the table, doing another sweep of the room. The fifth one you've watched him do tonight.

This time is different. His eyes meet your and you duck your head, avoiding the eye contact. You'd known (the way someone with social anxiety knows) that people would think you weird, making eye contact with strangers. It immediately signals your fight or flight response, settling on flight even though you weren't in any danger.

When you glanced back up, he was looking back at his friends, but you didn't know he'd smiled softly and was now bringing the rest of his tables' attention to you.

In your new panic, you paid your tab and headed out the door. So when Ghost finally got the others to look your way, your seat was empty and the bell was chiming over the door.

"You sure she was there, LT?" Soap asked, clapping the other man on the shoulder.

"Was right there, on the end. Prettiest bird I ever saw," Ghost grunted, his mask wrinkling with his nose.

"Thass m'friend yer talkin bout," a pretty blond slurred at them as she hung on to a frat boy type that was more interested in running his hands all over her body. "Come 'ere e'ry Friday, woo!" She was herded off by her cohort, giggling as they headed for the door. "Guess we'll be here next Friday too then."

You walked home in the chilly night, anger and resentment flooding through your veins. They'd never give you a chance, not with all the pretty girls that were in that bar. You'd always been looked over for girls more beautiful or thinner than you. What was the line they always fed you? 'I love your personality, but you're just not...my type.'

Suffice it to say, the four men would head back to their shared flat, fisting their cocks to just Ghost's description of you and fiending for the next Friday to come.

I promise I'm working on the Touch Fivesome. There's a lot of details and functionality that I'm trying to figure out.

I couldn't get this out of my head. Inspired by another post along a similar vein. I can't remember who it was now, but it's been festering.

Update: I found the inspiration. :3 @devil-in-hiding

Part Two ->

768 notes · View notes

itachiiwrites · 2 months ago

Text

Hands on your knees, I'm Angelina Jolie ♡

CULT LEADER!SUGURU GETO X READER ♡

Warnings and Content: 18+, MDNI, p in v sex, mirror sex, backshots, fingering, clit play, creampie, husband suguru, suguru being very hot, female reader, porn with almost no plot (sorry), terms of endearment (angel, pretty girl), degradation, slapping, spanking, he's also gentle, he is in love, you are too, mentions of exhibitionism.

Plot: Showing off your new lingerie set to your husband was your job, it's not fault that he's a very busy man..

Suguru peppered soft kisses onto the back of your neck, his large hands tantalizingly settled onto the seam of your ass, the other settled onto your sternum, motioning tenderly to take your pert nipples between his calloused fingers.

He kept your figure propped up with delicacy, both your bodies on the knees, sinked on the plush mattress of his bed. His foxy eyes gazing into yours through the tall mirror in front of you both. It was your fault, getting him all riled up on text by giving your husband terribly raunchy depictions of your new lacey set, that was now in tatters on the mahogany floor. While he was negotiating with the benefactors of the association.

"Who could tell..? The fake Buddhist monk's wife is such a vixen.." He chuckled sardonically, jabbing a subtle insult. To which you giggled, turning your head to look at him. "It's fine cause you're a fake monk anyway.."

He arched his brow at your sharp reply small amused smile lacing his own lips, which didn't stop him from instantly gripping your face when it lolled up to the look at him, pinning it up in his palm to keep your eyes on the visual in the mirror of his body behind yours, deliciously finger fucking you. "I told you to keep your head up sweetheart..look in the mirror..always such a smartass.." He rustled against your cheek, giving a prompt, light slap on your cheek to your bratty reply.

"Yeah..Sugu.." You moaned dulcely with a grin, his name sliding past your lips so obscenely that it would put a pornstar to shame.

Suguru let out a satisfied hum at the sounds you made, pulling his crinkled fingers from your wetness then settling onto your cute clit. The slight roughened pads of his fingers from years of exorcising curses felt so perfect drawing methodical eights against your nub that was erectly poking out from your arousal. "Oh-ho..? You're fucking drenched, you liking getting slapped, slut..?"

Your pretty eyes almost fluttered at the vulgarity that slipped passed his lips, you could feel the soft rumming of his chest against your back as he spoke to you in his sultry voice.

"What..? Didn't hear you, what happened to that smart mouth of yours..? Huh..?" He gritted his teeth, his digits ruthlessly rubbing your slippery pussy, the plopping sound clearly audible. He grunted, groping the flesh of your ass handfully before letting his palm impact on it with a rough smack, pushing you down on the mattress so your ass was in the air for him, making you yelp.

Grabbing fistful of your hair, he lifted you up as he teased the bulbous head of his fat cock on your entrance, stretching it open with just the tip which made you whimper. "Oh..put it in..want your cock so badly.." You whispered, desperately wanting to feel him deep within you. You cambered your head to your shoulder slightly to look at him.

"Fucking look in the mirror or else I'm leaving your slutty pussy here like this all night along.." He warned, slapping your face again, this time collision being a little harder, which made you naturally look at the pornographic sight in front of you.

His sculpted body positioned behind you, his eyes half lidded and the onyx bangs framing his handsome face beautifully, it made your cunt flutter around him. The moment he rammed into you with a soft moan, your eyes blew wide at the sudden stretch, making you grip the sheets tighter.

You could feel his balls deliciously smacking against your clit, while the bed creaked softly because of his fast, plummeting thrusts, cooes and blabbers of how you wanted him harder leaving past your lips.

"Yeah..my pretty wife wants it harder hm..? Take it, take it all..fuck!" And he gave you harder. It felt incredible, his each inch. Even as your limbs quivered and trembled as your walls gripped him like a vice when you came.

Suguru was addicted to the sight, the way you were braced up for him in all fours, your fucked out, flushed face only made his cock harder. He leaned in, pressing his body onto your back, holding you down with his weight as he moved his hips in a sensual rotation, kissing the depths of your sweet cunt with his tip each time. The sinful thoughts of claiming you like this in front of his cult crossed his mind. Although tempting, the thougts of defiling you like that in front of filthy monkeys, a sight that was only for him to see definitely made him jealous, furious even.

"Tell me you love me..pretty girl, say it..gonna cum in you.." He purred in your ear wanting the affirmation of your devotion to him, your hands now on the either side of your head, his fingers entwined with yours, his lips and teeth grazing against your skin to paint his purpled kisses on your neck.

"I..love you..cum in me Suguru..fill me up.."

And your syrupy voice sent a spark down his spine as he pounded into you harder, albeit sloppily as he moved closer to his climax. He let out a series of husky moans, cumming hot, white, thick ropes into your pussy, continuing to fuck you as milky rings of your mixed releases accumulated on his base. "Fuck..I love you angel.."

He let out strong huffs as he collapsed on top of you, planting wet kisses on the side of your cheek and back. The heinous thought crossing his head again after the declaration of his love.

"...What do you think about fucking in front of cult..?" He mumbled, gazing into your eyes with an impish look at you knew too well after he turned you around, his body still intimately pressed against yours, like a husband's should to his wife after making love. Keeping his softened dick inside you. He brought your hand closer, his warmth breath tickling your skin at the loving gesture of him kissing your ring finger.

"No."

©𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐢𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐬

Plagiarism not authorised. Please consider liking and reblogging if you liked the content. :)

More on m.list!

#jjk smut #jjk x reader #geto x reader #suguru geto x reader #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru x fem!reader #geto suguru x y/n #geto suguru smut #suguru geto x you #geto smut #suguru geto smut #getou suguru x reader #getou suguru smut #jujutsu kaisen fanfic

611 notes · View notes

lovelookspretty · 10 days ago

Text

erase me

exboyfriend!rafe cameron x exgirlfriend!reader

— “ and i wonder who will erase me? ”

content: unhealthy relationship post-breakup, hookups, sexual themes, drinking, toxic cycles, SMALL ONE-SHOT idc

authors note: “erase me” by lizzy mcalpine has been my hyper fixation song lately n i was just watching the music video when i thought to myself huh. this would so fit with rafes character !

his lips are soft against your skin, pulling slowly away just to dive in again. he’s savoring every noise, every taste, every sight, every part of you.

his back is bare, freckles scattered across the ivory that you’ve thought about tracing once or twice before, only if you ever stuck around long enough.

his fingers curl inside you, erupting a reaction that he chases after. you’re like a drug to him. his tongue grinds—swirling, flicking, teasing. he’s giving his all to you. to please you. to make you feel like you never have before.

but there’s just something off.

you lower your chin to look at him through heavy lids. his forehead is licked with sweat, cheeks soft red but his lips swollen from working on you. the realisation comes faster than you do.

for the past eighteen minutes you have not had a present bone in your body. he started eighteen minutes ago, and not once have you released yet, or felt like you wanted to.

it’s almost embarrassing, needless to say more for him and less for you, but you can still feel second-hand. your mind can wander but it doesn’t stray from the fact that he can’t give you what you need. but you know who can.

just as you look closer, he’s pulling himself off of you to flip you onto your stomach so he can fuck you. it’s raw, and he slips his cock inside of you easily—it’s just better than whatever the hell he was doing before.

his hips snap brutally against your own, his chest pressed against your back as he curves his hand around your throat, applying pressure. there.

that’s when you feel it. not him, but that familiar sense. a warmth you know all too well. you’ve been tossed, turned, flipped, thrown, all for the pleasure of a man. here, it’s no different.

your phone lights up on the nightstand, and all you can think about is him again. his grunts in your ear, encouraging you to keep holding yourself up so he can murmur how pathetic you are so that the praises hit better. you’d rather feel the tip of his cock finding your g-spot over and over again until you string out a moan, barely comprehensible but you know that he can make out his own name from your lips.

rafe.

you wanna say it again—rafe. but it’s fine. right here is fine. this guy’s fucking you in his bed. he’s surely some eye candy, and he’s been gentle with you all night. the sex can be rough though, and maybe that’s what you need.

still, something stirs in you, and you know that it’s not what you want.

you wake up to the pale yellow light filtering through unfamiliar blinds. the room is silent, save for the soft breathing of the guy beside you. he’s sprawled out, dead asleep, dark hair ruffled, face turned away. you don’t even remember his name—just that he’s neighbors with your friend who hosted the party last night.

your head throbs, a steady, unforgiving ache that pulses behind your eyes, and the sour taste of rum still lingers on your tongue. you shift slightly, feeling the rough fabric of his sheets against your bare skin, and suddenly, an emptiness sinks in, heavy and suffocating. you’re barely dressed, just his oversized t-shirt clinging to you like a ghost of whatever last night was supposed to mean.

you stare blankly ahead, your head propped on a pillow, but your body turns away from him, toward the edge of the bed. your arm dangles off the side, fingertips brushing the floor. it’s ironic, how last night’s distraction becomes this morning’s reminder of how desperate you are to erase him—rafe.

you stay like that for a moment, unmoving, letting the sting of it seep in. the room smells like cologne and stale alcohol. he’s nice enough, you think vaguely. kind eyes, a smile that had been warm just last night.

but now, it’s empty. meaningless.

you push yourself up slowly, carefully, so you don’t wake him. your fingers shake a little as you pull on your clothes from the night before, you don’t bother with anything else. you move quietly as you gather your shoes and slip them on, not daring to glance back.

when you step out into the early morning air, the street is quiet, the world still practically waking up. rafe’s name pounds in your head with each step you take.

your hand shakes as you pull your phone from your pocket, staring at his name in your contact list. you shouldn’t call him. you know that. but the ache, the gnawing desperation to hear something from him, is too much to resist. your thumb hovers for a second too long, then you press the call button before you can think better of it.

it rings. once. twice. you almost hope he doesn’t pick up, that you can hang up and convince yourself you were just being stupid. but then the line clicks, and his voice cuts through, sharp and unforgiving.

“what?” his voice is rough, low, the way it gets when he’s been up all night. you can picture him now, jaw tight, blue eyes dark and narrowed. your pulse quickens.

you swallow, suddenly dry-mouthed. “rafe,” you mumble. “hey.”

“are you serious right now?” he snaps, and you can hear the rustle of sheets, like he’s sitting up. “don’t call me, y/n. i don’t want to hear your voice.”

the words sting, but they don’t stop you. they never do. you almost smile, that twisted, sick part of you that craves this, the heat of his anger, the way it matches the storm in your chest.

“why not?” your voice comes out quieter than you mean it to, a little rasp from sleep and the lingering effects of alcohol. “you sound wide awake for someone who doesn’t wanna talk.”

there’s a pause, just long enough for you to think he might hang up, but then his voice comes back, clearer, like he’s got the mic pressed right against his mouth. “you’re unbelievable—‘hear me? un-believable. you leave that party with some random guy and then you call me? is this some kind of game to you?”

“it wasn’t like that,” you mutter, but it’s half-hearted. it was exactly like that. your shame burns hotter under rafe’s scalding words.

“no? then what is it, hmph? because lately, all you’ve done is show me just how fast you can try to replace me,” he spits, voice laced with something that sounds dangerously close to hurt.

your grip on the phone tightens, nails digging into your palm. “it’s not like you’re innocent,” you say, the words barely a whisper. it’s pathetic, you know it is, but it’s all you have.

“don’t turn this around on me,” he snaps. “yeah, i know what you’re trying to do, running off with random guys like it’s supposed to mean something. you think i don’t hear about it? but you call me? after all of this, you still call me?”

his voice cracks at the end, barely perceptible, and that tiny break twists something in your chest. you press your lips together, trying not to let him hear the way your breath shakes despite your smile.

“rafe—”

“no,” he interrupts, hard, a finality to it that hits you like a slap. “don’t call me again.”

the line goes dead, and for a moment, you just stand there, staring at the phone in your hand. you feel some strange, hollow satisfaction just from hearing his voice, hearing him angry, hearing him give a fuck, even if it’s in the worst way.

a bitter smile tugs at your lips, but it fades just as fast, leaving a dull ache in its place. your teeth graze your bottom lip, the embarrassment settling in, thick and heavy. what were you even hoping to get out of that?

you shove your phone back into your pocket, the regret sinking in as you start to walk.

the music pulses through the room. you dance, eyes closed, while two faces are close, dancing around you, their hands lightly grazing your hips, steadying you as you sway. you can feel the warmth of their laughter and the faint pull of their fingers, but your mind is elsewhere. you’re not thinking about them. you’re not even thinking about yourself. you’re thinking about him.

rafe stands across the room, one hand gripping a cup. his jaw is tight, eyes narrowed as he watches you from a distance.

he notices everything. the way your hair tumbles over your shoulders, the curve of your lips when you laugh at something someone whispers in your ear, the way your body responds, a subtle roll of your hips, when the beat drops. it’s infuriating.

you’re so far away, yet every move you make drags him closer to the edge. he hates it. hates that you’re pretending not to see him. hates that you’re acting like this—so carefree, so untethered, so far from the girl he remembers.

someone bumps into you, hard enough that you stumble slightly. rafe’s grip on his drink tightens, the glass groaning under the strain of his fingers. but then he sees it—how you turn and smile, an easy, genuine smile, and apologize to the stranger as if the fault was yours.

not even a hint of annoyance, not a trace of the sharpness he knows you have when provoked.

he watches, feeling the burn of it—how can you be so good, so kind, yet crave the venom he’s always fed you?

do they know you called him this morning just to hear him snap at you, that you needed the sound of him furious just to feel close? he doesn’t think so, but he’s in awe, and it makes him hate you, hate himself.

how do you still do this to him?

the trance is broken when sofia appears, slipping from the hallway with a playful smile. she says something—something about the line for the bathroom being longer than ever, that everyone’s probably considering the ocean instead.

he smiles, nodding as he pulls her in, an arm draped around her shoulders. the shift in his attention is deliberate, as if trying to convince himself he doesn’t care. as if touching someone else, being close to someone else, could drown out the low hum of you in his veins.

and that’s when you open your eyes, half-lidded and hazy, the world coming into focus with a few blinks. you glance around, a soft smile still curving your lips, until your gaze lands on them.

there’s no hiding the small, faint frown that pulls at your mouth. it’s barely there, but still is. you watch rafe let her take his drink, her fingers brushing his as she sips. your eyes flick down, betraying you for a moment as you take in their closeness, and then, just like that, you look away.

there’s a sting behind your eyes, but it’s not strong enough to stop you. you press your lips into a thin line, exhaling sharply as you turn back to the crowd. you don’t pause before reaching for the hand of a guy nearby, someone whose name you won’t remember tomorrow. again.

you lace your fingers through his and pull him with you, stepping through the bodies and toward the stairs. he watches, his mouth set in a thin line, but he doesn’t move. he just watches you walk away.

it all twists something inside you, bitter and raw, but you keep walking. maybe you and rafe are both pretending it’s over, trying to find where you begin without each other. at least you know now who’s painting over the last parts of you.

erasing you.

a/n: wanted to just leave it here and kind of quickly depict toxic cycles & the two POVs 😭 bc yea they are so NOT over each other

tags: @iiszaa @lotuslovers @obsessionsarenotfortheweak @yootvi @skyslowalking @hoelesslyt @ariiwritess @beebeerockknot @0-tatiana-0

458 notes · View notes

moondirti · 5 months ago

Text

privateer! johnny mactavish, whose only job is to raid and rob foreign vessels under arms, taking them for condemnation and their crews as prisoner for exchange. he isn’t a pirate per se – he really prefers the term corsair, if the letter of marque framed in his cap’s office has anything to say about that—

finds a stowaway on his very own ship. clever little thing must have wormed her way through from another vessel during one of their assaults, because gaz makes good work of checking for hitchers before they sail off. she’s malnourished, dangerously close to developing scurvy, arms bruised in a way no bird’s should be. hair matted, face caked in gunpowder and salt. she can hardly voice her pleas when he comes across her while looking for extra ammunition.

but there’s no need to worry. johnny’s a good man, from a good name. sure he might look a little crazed, sea legs and beard veiling the hero underneath – as though he were just another buccaneer who paves their life’s path taking from innocents – but he only does so to those who deserve it. promise.

and you don’t look like you do. virtuous thing. pretty thing, like a fresh-shelled pearl who has yet to be polished. he won’t tell the crew about your transgression. in fact, he won’t tell them anything about you at all; especially not simon, who treats him as though he were nothing more than an extension of himself. no. this is for him, and for him alone.

he’ll keep you in his room. give you a nice place to rest. feed you orange slices until the colour blooms behind your cheeks. give you baths with a washcloth when he can. checks what all the fuss is about when you cover your tits protectively – he’s only cutting the dirty garbs of ye – to discover that, so long as he assures you that what he’s doing is in your best interest, you’ll let him get away with anything.

like stuffing his nasty fingers in your cunt, tongue notched down your throat to muffle your cries. like feeding you his cock after successful raids, the cork off a bottle of rum plugging your tight ass shut. like folding you in half and jackhammering into your womb, months worth of pent-up sexual energy laying itself onto your poor body.

all the while – as you grow more wary, exhausted – his delusion grows worse.

because what kind of alternative fate would you find out there, with the brutes he calls friends? better off with him, lass. even if you are constantly dripping cum, growing dizzy in his bed while he’s away. at least he was taught how to treat a woman right.

(can’t say the same about simon, who hasn’t fallen short on noticing johnny’s shift in behaviour. the new gait in his step, the dazzle of his smile. his bunk’s only a few doors away, after all. some nights, he swears that the creaks of his bed frame are too loud for even the stormiest of seas to spur.)

#okay! so. um #johnny ‘soap’ mactavish x reader #johnny mactavish x reader #soap x reader

945 notes · View notes

kaleldobrev · 11 months ago

Text

Possessive

Pairing: Soldier Boy (Ben) x F. Reader

Summary: Ben is highly against when other men hit on you

Original Prompt: Requested by anonymous | HEYYY THERE. First of all- I love your work so freaking much. Second of all- if you’re still accepting requests I was wondering if I could ask for a soldier boy x reader where they’re out at a bar and some creepy guys hits on her?? Basically how Ben would react and everything. THANK YOU SO MUCH LOVE <333

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: Cursing (21x) & Possessive!Ben

Authors Note: I re-wrote this I think like a handful of times cause I honestly wasn’t happy with it. But now I am finally happy with it | I really hope you guys liked the way this turned out | If you liked this, don’t forget to like & reblog. I really appreciate it! Feedback is always welcome ♡

“So tell me why you fucking dragged me here again?” Ben asked, walking very close behind you that he might as well be attached to your back.

“Hughie’s birthday,” you reminded him.

“Remind me again why he invited me?” Ben asked. “Because we aren’t really buddy-buddy babe.”

“Because believe it or not, he doesn’t hate you,” you said. “Besides, even if he didn’t invite you, I would have dragged you here anyway cause he said I could bring a plus one. And you my guy, are my plus one.”

He rolled his eyes. “I seriously do not want to fucking be here. I have other things I could be doing than hanging out with your friends.”

You turned to him, cocking a brow. “Like what? Smashing bennies on our kitchen counter while you watch re-runs of M*A*S*H?”

He furrowed his brow, hating that you knew him all too well. “Fuck you,” was how he chose to respond.

“Fuck you too,” you smirked. “Now let’s go grandpa,” you said, taking his hand in yours and making your way to the back table where your friends probably already were.

“Y/N!” Hughie exclaimed, holding a beer in his hand. “You made it!”

“Of course I did,” you smiled; him and you exchanging hug. “I wouldn’t miss actually seeing Butcher let loose,” you winked.

“You’ve seen it plenty of times luv,” he said, picking up a shot of vodka.

“Yeah but, that was when strictly murder was involved,” you clarified. He shrugged his shoulders in response, knocking back the shot.

“Hey. I’m shocked you actually came,” Hughie said, gesturing toward Ben.

“She dr—” he started to say, but changed his mind when he saw you, looking at him with the biggest ‘do not piss me off’ look. “Wouldn’t have missed it.”

“So, what’s everyone drinking?” You asked.

“White claw as usual for me. But we have beer and vodka shots too,” Annie replied, gesturing around the table as your eyes followed the drinks.

“Anyone in the mood for some rum?” You asked. “Kinda in the mood for a rum and coke myself.”

“You’re always in the mood for rum and coke,” Ben mumbled. “Rum and my coc—” He mumbled again, but you quickly cut him off, not wanting him to finish his sentence.

“Okay!” You clapped. “I’m gonna go get some rum and coke. Ben, you wanna come with me?” You asked, turning in his direction.

Ben weighed his options: he could either sit at this table making small talk with your friends that he had nothing in common with, or he could go with you to the bar and maybe have the chance to convince you to have a quickie in the bathroom. “I’ll come with you.”

“Perfect!” You clapped again, aggressively taking his hand as the two of you started making your way toward the bar.

As soon as you and Ben were out of ear and eyeshot, Annie was the first one to break the silence. “So, what’s going on with them? Because whenever I bring up their relationship she always changes the subject.”

“They aren’t in a relationship,” Butcher clarified. “Not a real one anyway.”

“I mean, friends with benefits is kind of a relationship,” Annie said. “I mean, it’s not like the two of them don’t have feelings for each other ya know?”

“How do you figure?” Butcher asked.

“You don’t see the way the two of them look at each other? Those are more than ‘I only fuck you cause you’re convenient eyes’,” she explained.

“He doesn’t love her. Dont think the cunt is even capable of love,” Butcher replied, taking another shot of vodka.

“Did you actually want rum and coke or did you just want us to have some alone time?” He smirked. “Come and cock if you will.”

“Why does everything that comes out of your mouth sound disgusting?” You asked, not nearly as disgusted as you were over a year ago when you had first met him. Because you had been around him for as long as you have, you had basically become desensitized to basically everything he had said or did. Him walking around naked? Just an average Tuesday. Him snorting coke while you make pasta? Just an average Friday.

“I thought you liked the things that came out of my mouth,” he winked.

“We are not doing this right now,” you warned him.

“I mean we could. Your heart is beatin’ rather fast right now. And your cheeks are turning that pinkish color they usually get whenever you wanna jump me,” he smirked.

“Either go and sit down or stay quiet. Cause I don’t need these random people in this bar to know about our sex life,” you whispered yelled.

“Where’s your sense of adventure Sweetheart?” He smirked again, starting to tug on your empty belt loop on your jeans.

“Ben,” you whispered through gritted teeth.

“What?” He asked, whispering in your ear. “It’s not like anyone’s paying attention to us. This bar is fucking crowded.” He pulled you close, and kissed your neck; which caused you to let you a tiny moan. “There she is,” he smirked against your skin.

“Okay. I need you to go sit down,” you said, Ben still very much kissing your neck.

“You really want me to go and do that when we can go into the bathroom and have a good and quick fuck?” He whispered.

His offer was tempting, more tempting than you would have liked to admit. But you had to restrain yourself, at least right now — because you didn’t want to get fucked in a dirty bar bathroom. “Ben,” your voice stern.

He knew that voice all too well, and he immediately stopped what he was doing. “Fine,” his voice annoyed. “Gonna go sit by your friends.”

“Ben, you can still stand here. Just keep your hands to yourself,” you told him, but he was already half way across the room. “Fucking child,” you whispered, full well knowing that he would still be able to hear you.

“Pain in my fucking ass,” he mumbled to himself.

“They’re been over there a long time,” Hughie said, trying to see over the sea of people. “Oh wait! Here they come.” But instead of you and Ben coming back toward the table, it was just Ben; and everyone looked at him with slight confusion. “Where’s Y/N?”

“Getting her rum and coke. Weren’t you paying attention?” Ben slightly snapped.

“Jesus,” Hughie mumbled.

“I think what he means is, I thought you were getting one with her,” Annie said.

“Trouble in paradise?” Butcher asked slightly smirking; holding up a shot of vodka for Ben to take. Ben just rolled his eyes and took the shot. “That’s what I thought.”

“Can someone fucking move so I can sit the fuck down?” Ben asked, his voice full of annoyance.

As you waited at the bar for yours and Ben’s drinks, you tapped your fingers along to the music that was playing even though it was very muffled sounding due to the immense crowd in the bar tonight. “Hey little lady,” you heard a male voice say, but you ignored it, thinking that he was probably talking to the girl next to you. But then you felt an aggressive tapping on your shoulders. For a split second you thought that maybe it was Ben, but you knew he would never do something like that to you.

When you turned around, a man about a few inches taller than you stood in front of you. “You talking to me?” You asked.

He scoffed. “Yeah, who else would I be talking to pretty lady?” His words made you shudder. “Cold?”

“Uh yeah…I uh…I run a little cold,” you lied. Fuck, he noticed the shuddering, you thought.

“You can borrow my jacket,” he said, starting to take off a leather jacket that reeked of menthol and cheap whiskey.

“No I’m good, thanks though,” you said, trying your best to be nice. “Besides, I’d never see you again, so you would never get your jacket back.”

“See, I fully intend on seeing you Sweetheart,” he said. “In more ways than one,” he winked. Again, you felt your body shudder. “Are you sure you don’t want my jacket? It’s honestly really fucking hot. Kinda like you.”

Oh sweet baby Jesus, you thought. “I’m good honestly. And plus, I’m sure my friends have a jacket I can borrow.”

“Your friends uh?” He cocked a brow. “They as hot as you?” You honestly didn’t know how to answer that, so you just stood there a little dumbfounded. “I’ll tell you what, I’ll give you my number and we can meet up later for a little party.”

“I don’t thin—” you started to answer.

“And before you say no. I’m sure you would love it, it’s a sex party. Like uh, that Herogasm. Ever been to Herogasm?” He asked.

Of course you’ve been to Herogasm; but it wasn’t for pleasure on any account (as that kind of thing wasn’t remotely your thing). You were strictly there to make sure things didn’t go more south than they already did. “That’s not really my —”

“I really think you’d enjoy it,” he said. “The guy who created it must of been such a freak.” You have no idea, you wanted to say.

“Soldier Boy,” you said, and the man looked at you with slight confusion, furrowing his brow. “Created it…Hero…gasm…”

“Oh shit he did! Man, that guy is a fucking legend,” the man said. “Hey, you think he would still be going to those if he didn’t get killed in that nuclear thing in Ohio back in the eighties?”

“I honestly wouldn’t know,” you said, starting to actually get embarrassed.

“Anyway, enough about that guy. Have you ever had a threesome?” He asked, abruptly changing the subject.

“Hey Sugar,” you heard Ben say from behind you.

“Get in line pal,” the guy said. “She’s with me.”

Ben raised a brow out of amusement. “Oh she is, is she?”

“Yeah and—hey, has anyone ever told you that you kinda look like Soldier Boy? Man, he was my favorite,” the man said. If Ben’s ego couldn’t get any higher…

“He gets that a lot,” you chimed in.

“Shit, you two know each other?” The man said, looking back and forth between you and Ben.

“Yeah,” Ben said. “We’re real familiar with each other. So why don’t you scam before I break your nose for hitting on my girlfriend here?”

The man couldn’t help himself but scoff. “Girlfriend? Dude, you wish.” Oh no.

“Excuse me?” Ben asked. “I don’t think I heard you quite right.”

“Of course you didn’t, cause you’re an old, fucking —”

Ben’s hands went into fists, and you felt him start to push past you, but you stopped him by pressing a firm hand on his chest, which was starting to get unbelievably hot. “Let’s go sit down. Annie just texted me asking me where we are.”

The drinks that the bartender made you and Ben got slid toward you, and you picked them up, attempting to hand a glass for him to hold to replace one of his fists. “Don’t wanna worry her now would we?” Ben said, his voice still full of anger, but it was attempting to sound calm.

“You’re pissed at me aren’t you?” Ben asked, as the two of you started making your way toward the table.

“Why do you think I’m pissed at you?” You questioned.

“Because I didn’t let you handle that yourself,” he answered. “I know you’re all about feminism or whatever, but I didn’t like the way he was talking to you.”

“I admit what you did was slightly more alpha than I would have liked but, I’m not remotely pissed at you,” you told him. “It was kinda…hot actually,” you confessed. “I’m just more intrigued by the choice of words you used.”

“What words?” He raised a brow, the two of you stopping in your tracks mere feet away from the table.

“The fact that you called me your girlfriend,” you said. “You could have just said friend, but you choose to use the word girlfriend.”

“Jesus Christ,” he rolled his eyes. “We are not having this conversation now.”

“But you can grope me in a crowded bar?” You asked, cocking your head.

“That’s different,” he said.

“H-okay, I’m not gonna touch that. But seriously? I think we should really talk about this at some point because you’ve been doing that a lot lately,” you said.

“Doing what?” It was his turn to cock his head, and look at you with slight confusion.

“Calling me your girlfriend,” you stated.

He rolled his eyes again. “Tell me one time before this time that I called you my girlfriend.”

“Literally yesterday,” you responded all too quickly.

“Because some creep was hitting on you. To be fair, you call me your boyfriend,” he said, trying to turn this conversation in his favor somehow.

“I have never once called you my boyfriend,” you stated.

“You did. Yesterday when you were on the phone with your mom,” he told you.

“A conversation that I told you not to listen in on might I add,” you retorted.

“Okay, that’s besides the point. Point is —”

“Look, I’m gonna make this simple. Do you want me to be your actual girlfriend or not?” You asked bluntly, cutting him off.

“What?” He asked, for some reason acting like he was confused.

"I'm tired of beating around the bush okay? We like fucking, we already live together, and we genuinely like spending time with each other. So, why not just make things official?" Ben knew that you had a point. "So, do you want to be my boyfriend or not?"

"Yes," he replied, sounding slightly annoyed.

"What?" You asked, sighing.

"I wanted to be the one to ask," he mumbled.

"Fucking Christ," you mumbled.

Tag List: @syrma-sensei @k-slla @justletmereadfanfic @deans-daydream @midorimachisenpaii @rachiem4-blog @zepskies

@jackles010378 @mrsjenniferwinchester @globetrotter28 @deans-spinster-witch @mrlonelycat @the-achievementhunter @deansbbyx @pouhkeepsie1967

@zombie-freak @waywardlatina @crystal555 @missscarlettangel @livingordeadwhoknows @79winchester @savagemickey03 @grx-deanslovr @wirdbeimaufhebengebunden @uncle-eggy @queenie32 @ficmesideways @nancymcl

If you’d like to be added to a tag list please follow this link Remember to put your @ on so I'm able to tag you

#soldier boy x you #soldier boy x reader #the boys #the boys imagine #the boys one shot #the boys Amazon #Ben x you #Ben x reader #reader insert #female reader

2K notes · View notes