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ch4nb4ng · 1 year ago

Text

Marital Duties

Pairing: Chan x afab!reader

Word count: 9.4k

Genre: Established relationship, married

Warning: SMUT (18+ only), phone sex, sexting, car sex, mention of boobs, oral sex (f. receving), penetration, swearing, mention of cum, mentions of pussy, kissing, praise

Note: ok i kinda nervous to post this but yas! Here is my inspo (here) (here) (here) warning it’s literally p word.

Tagged: @seo--changbin @j-0ne25 @cb97whoree @kpopsstuffs

Summary: Having a job that meant travelling and spending time away from your husband made the absence grow much fonder for you and your needs, as well as your husbands.

Work conferences were the bane of your existence. Yes you were away from your kid and sometimes it was hard, but being away from your husband was harder. There was no doubt about your job. Being a world renowned forensic psychologist was amazing and something you wanted for a long time. Sometimes though, it was nice to just curl up on the couch, read a good book, watch a comforting movie; there was nothing wrong with indulging in self-care, you just did not have the time to do so.

The recent promotion into becoming head of the north-west region of mental health care was a big step up from your previous job. No one than you was more qualified for this. Everyone, colleagues and board members put your name up. Psychology was your life, but your family was bigger.

Highschool sweethearts, you and your husband had been inseparable since what felt like the dawn of time. Meeting at 15, having your first dance at 17 at prom. Graduating and going to college together; If you had a dollar for everytime you accomplished a big milestone with him or because of him, you would be swimming in luxury. When the two of you got married, things just fell into place even more. The doubt of being able to help people mentally after graduating from your post grad made you nervous, but then again, you never thought that you would be married to such a wonderful man. A dream job at your local hospital fell into your lap, and your husband became the nurse that everybody wanted to assist them with their care. Working in close contact with him everyday was just another blessing in disguise; you simply could not get enough of him. It was impossible to get sick of him.

That was when you decided to have your first child. What could be a better mix than the two of you combined? The first 4 years of parenthood came with its challenges. Nevertheless, it was the best decision you ever made, and you couldn’t think of anyone better than to share the unfamiliar journey with.

The promotion, however, meant that you wouldn't work with your husband as much, and spending time with your daughter was a little limited, but you knew he would never tell you to turn something down, and in a way it was the best decision for your marriage. The times together were shorter, but it also meant that every moment was savored tenfold. The time was better quality, the acts of service more thoughtful, and the sex. The sex, was that much more passionate, just like the first time he made love to you. He would always find ways to surprise you. Whether it was the way he grasped, grabbed you on the fibers that lingered to be touched, the way his body pressed upon yours, lips lingering on new places. You were always amazed with how much he could do, and what he was capable of.

These are the ideas that tortured your mind when you were away on business trips. Calling him and hearing his voice, seeing his face through the tiny phone screen was not enough. It didn’t matter how long you had been together, you always craved and missed him significantly.

“Hang on,” he whispered through the phone speaker, “someone wants to say hi to you.”

Your heart beamed with joy every time you saw her little face on the screen. God she looked like her dad, and you knew she'd grow up to be a beautiful woman.

“Hi mommy,” she giggled, fingers crinkling then uncrkinly as she waved at the camera, “I miss you mommy.”

“Aw baby,” you pouted, “I miss you too. Mommy will be home tomorrow. Now it’s time for you to sleep.”

“Yes,” he cooed, “and daddy is going to read you a bedtime after you say goodnight to mommy.”

Your baby squealed with joy, running out of the frame and to her room. You could do nothing but chuckles, careless that she was that excited over a book of words that she forgot to say goodnight.

“Let me call you back at 15.”

You nodded, pressing the red cross before rolling on your back and looking up at the ceiling, admiring the off white paint color, heart beating out of your chest every second that the callback was not made. It’s not that you were worried he wouldn’t call back, you just felt that longing you always did when you weren’t looking at him.

The vibration on your chest was extra sensitive. You rolled back over, now lying on your front with your hand resting on your chin, other hand holding the phone as you answered.

“Hey baby.”

“Hiiii,” you whispered, a smile on your face impossible to be rid of.

“She was out like a light.”

“I’m glad.”

“How was your day, baby? I want to hear all about it.”

You giggled as you saw him get up, walking into the bathroom of your house as he placed you against the bench next to the sink. Chan wasn’t shy. He thought it was completely normal to remove his scrubs and leave his upper body bare as he bent down to the bottom drawer, taking out his skincare and placing it on his face. Chan was your husband. You had seen him shirtless 100 more times than you could count. It should not affect you this much. It should not make the temperature of your cheeks rise. It should not cause a sudden sharpness of change in your breath. It should not make your eyes bulge, and it should definitely not send you into a head spin when his biceps flexed when washing his face. Being a clinical psychologist meant having pristine precision and concentration, so if anybody got a hold of this live footage right now, they might question your profession.

“Y/n, Y/n?”

You blinked, quickly snapping your head to get back in the game. It was too late, however, your husband was already smirking at your distraction. You could try and play it off, but the both of you knew that he was too smart to fall for that.

“Sorry babe, I’m a bit distracted.”

“Oh yeah? What’s distracting you?”

“Oh please,” you scoffed, “you know exactly what you are doing.”

“Me?” He gasped, placing a hand on his chest, flexing his opposite bicep, “I have no idea what you're talking about.”

You couldn’t help but smile at his obvious attempt to woo you over, the subtle flirt. Sometimes it was easy to resist, but in this case, it was easier to play along, feign innocence until he truly told you what he wanted. The two of you liked to play such games, especially when you were on the road. It was time for you to sit up, placing Chan on the lamp atop of the bedside table before placing yourself on the edge of the hotel bed. The buttons on your shirt were suddenly feeling a little tight. The smirk on your husband’s face grew the moment he saw the first two buttons undone, a sneak peak of your cleavage making its debut for the night. You stopped there, gently pulling down the fabric, stretching the collar of the shirt, consequently putting your chest on full display.

“Two can play that game Mr. Bang.”

A deep chuckle escaped his lips as he walked over to your shared bedroom, placing his phone in similar fashion to yours before removing his bottoms, your husband now in nothing but his boxers as he laid down, stretching out his legs before lifting you again, wanting the closest view to your fingers continuing to remove one button at a time, a painfully slow movement to your fingertips. Fuck. Now he kind of regretted starting this game with you tonight. A gasp of gratification spilt from Chan’s lips as he watched the satin material that made up your shirt slither off those, in his words, gorgeous shoulders of yours. The black lace bra, the one being your husband’s favorites out of pure coincidence the only garment covering your chest.

Chan loved every part of you, make no mistake. He would worship every part of your body 24/7 if he could. He simply could never get enough of you, but your chest, your breasts were on a whole different level. Chan loved your boobs. It didn’t matter what the two of you were doing, promiscuous acts or not, if he could have his hands on them, he could. Cuddling, sex, hugs; call him a pervert, but he didn’t care. It was his wife for god sakes. He would feel abnormal if he wasn’t attracted to them. Conveniently for you, this was something you could play to your advantage. Didn’t want to do the dishes? Show him your cleavage. Needed to put your daughter to sleep but you wanted him to do it? Promise him to show your cleavage after he does so. It was a convenient weapon to use, and this was the perfect time to use it. It was fair, seeing as he was using the weapon of his own to try and get you where he wanted.

“Aw come on,” he whined, “you did that on purpose?”

“Did what,” you smiled, fingers gently tracing the lace attached to the strap, “I didn’t do anything.”

Tapping the phone screen, you sighed. It was like, and your flight home was something that required you getting up much earlier that you would ever prefer. You should go to sleep. Hang up on him. You were going to see him tomorrow anyway, surely you could suppress your urges until then.

But then you saw your husband redirect his palm from the outside of his undergarment, which was obvious to the eye, to the inside, a gentle slap against his skin as it dived past the waist band. Fuck this was cruel now. Not only because you could see his hands subtly tumbling underneath, he drew attention to how hard he already was, and you didn’t know what aroused you more: his probaby pulsating length or the fact that he was as aroused as he was because of you. It didn’t matter how many times it occurred, Chan always had a way of making you feel special. Physically, emotionally, intimately; it was part of his aura, and one of the main reasons that you were so attracted to him in the first place.

“Baby,” you gasped, hands traveling up waist and to your chest, gently kneading the mass in an attempt to match his slow pace that he was palming himself, “you’re so naughty. I have to go to bed.”

“Aw come on baby,” he groaned, head resting atop the headboard, gaze even more piercing at the angle his head was at rest, “I haven’t seen you all week.”

“I know Chan,” you sighed, your next words going to be knowingly disappointing for him, “I have to check out at 3am and it’s already almost 10. You know what I’m like when I don't get my beauty sleep.”

Chan gave you a disapproving pout as he took his hands out of boxers, a shiny ring reappearing from the undergarment as he took the phone with both and lay flat on his back, sinking under the sheets and head gliding onto the pillow. He was humbly accepting defeat, most likely because he would see you tomorrow anyway; that’s when he could have his fun.

“I know baby it’s ok,” he smiled, bringing his face as close as possible to the camera, lips still pouting, “let me give you a kiss goodnight.”

“Thank you baby,” you giggled, also leaning forward to kiss the phone screen simultaneously before whispering a small, “goodnight.”

It didn’t take long for you to fall asleep, and the adrenaline from your almost raunchy rendezvous over the phone wore off quickly. You weren’t that young anymore. Getting tired was much easier. There was much less energy, especially after getting riled up like that. Even if it was what you saw while you were sleeping in your dreams, and you only have to wait 12 hours to see your beautiful husband in the flesh.

***

The alarm caused a fright, a deep groaning sound of annoyance bellowing from you, but that quickly wore off. The immediate thought of seeing Chan and your beautiful daughter being the main reason for your sudden change in temperament. Your bags were already packed and you organized your brain knowing that you would be too tired to do it in the morning The smile on your face couldnt dared to be wiped off once you were in the taxi. The cool breeze of the warm summer hitting your face as you pushed the window in the back seat halfway down. Summer was your favorite time of the year, especially since it was the time you got to spend with your family that was of the best quality. All of the aspects of your job you loved, even the times you traveled. However, your heart did sink a little when you had to travel at this time of the year. The school holidays always felt too short, so when you had to travel, the amount was even shorter.

A ding from your phone brought out of your somewhat solemn daze, heat creeping to your cheeks immediately:

[hubby <3] 7:00 am Can’t wait to see you, hope there aren't any delays at the airport.

*one attachment*

Jesus fuck. Now sending a full blown dick pick with your daughter in the car, which you assumed was there, was definitely not the way to go; and thank god your husband knew that. But that did not let him off the hook. It was a photo of him, in the mirror, with his face cut off and only his lips in the frame. He was wearing a black sleeveless tank and those fucking grey tracksuit pants. Call yourself cliche, but nothing turned you on more than that particular piece of clothing. Chan had one hand on the camera, the other hand at the base of his hardened length. He always did this. As mature as Chan was, the times he chose to be inappropriate truly were the most inconvenient for you. A loud gasp escaped your lips, head almost hitting the chair in front as the driver came to a halt.

“Everything okay back there?”

“Uh yes,” your head snapped towards him, nodding furiously as a terrible attempt at acting in the norm, “why did we stop?”

“We are at the airport, miss?”

His tone sounded one of question, kind of looking at you in the rear mirror like you were one of the strangest passengers he had. You looked outside, a ferocious laugh escaping your lips as you decided it was better to say nothing and just pay, get out, and grab your own luggage. The awkwardness left your mind in shambles. How dare he send such a photo. Your husband. It was most likely to get revenge from last night, because he knew you would have to sit on the plane and suffer in silence.

Your luggage was checked in quickly, security easy to get through; there was plenty of time to wait in the boarding lounge. At first you were annoyed by the message. The sexual frustration that had already accumulated from your absence away from him was enough, but if anything, it felt like this was an extra punishment for last night.

But then you opened it again, started analyzing it (if you could call it that) until your finger was subconsciously in your mouth. It didn’t matter how many times you looked at him, your husband, he was always going to do it for you, every single time. The ache that has been coming and going throughout the week returned, and it made you annoyed. So annoyed that you found yourself lifting your butt from your chair, walking to the bathroom and locking yourself in one of the stalls. Gripping the bottom of your shirt, you pulled it down as much as you could without taking it off, mimicking a downward looking angle in an attempt to copy your husband, lips down as the camera clicked, off silent. Fuck. It’s fine. The idea that people may have heard the sounds of you taking a photo in the toilet. You were too fueled with a horny rage to think of the ramifications as you sent your photo, giving in and responding to him.

[Y/N] 8:30am No delays. Make sure you’re there on time.

*one attachment*

Oh, he was gonna hate that. Chan had patience for a lot of things. But short, dry messages were something that made him mad. Serves him for sending you that first. You knew exactly what his reaction would be as well, but at least you could board the plane in peace.

It was around 3 hours before the plane arose from one location and landed in another. The plane ride was painful. You tried to do the things you usually would. Create drafts for your patients, read a book, watch a downloaded netflix movie, and just sink into your non-reclining chair and relax; but you simply couldn’t.

The brain rot that was the simple image of your husband’s half naked torso should not be affecting you this much. But that was the problem too. It wasn’t just the picture. That image was the catalyst for the sexual rumination that had been numbing your brain for the past week. The want to get home was even stronger now knowing that you really had something to look forward to.

Of course, to your dismay and longing, the baggage claim took forever, security had a long line, and by the time all of that had been completed, it was, of course, an hour schedule that you told your husband to come and pick you up. The look on his face was sour to say the least. There he was, leaning against the exterior of your shared four wheel drive, drinking his probably now lukewarm coffee. The tingle instantly came back to your core, feeling like a teenage girl again. The scene was just like old times. Chan, waiting around the corner from your house to come and pick you up. The only thing that was different was that it was slightly taller, and had a few more wrinkles. Nonetheless, he looked super hot. Still wearing those grey sweatpants, and a fucking black tank. A fucking blank tank that was probably the tightest fitting pieceing of clothing in his fucking closet. His stance was strong, biceps, triceps, and ¾ of his pecs bulging out in public, and it was truly making your brain dizzy. You walked over quietly, the jarring sound of your suitcase wheels rolling along the parking lot concrete ruining the suspense of your arrival. Chan’s head snapped, eye widening the moment you appeared in his vision.

“Hi baby, sorry I’m late the customs took for-”

The interruption was welcome as Chan shoved his phone in his pocket, apparently with an empty takeaway coffee cup falling to the floor as he enveloped you into his arms, a groan of admiration falling from his lips as they immediately attached to yours, your body to relaxing against his, eyes fluttering shut at his touch. God, it was only a week. One week, but you craved his touch more than anything in the world. It truly was the little things such as his calloused textures, the warmth of his skin, his smile. Holy fuck his smile was, in your opinion, the greatest thing in the world that ever existed.

“Mmmh,” you hummed, gently pulling away, hands snaking across your husband’s waist, a smug smile on your lips, “I missed you.”

“Missed you too baby,” he growled, morning raspiness to his tone, “how was your flight?”

The implication of his question made your eyes ogle, the visual image of his text message imprinting on your brain. The smirk that developed on his face formed the expression of realization that hit you. Suddenly his grip on your waist was tighter, and Chan was pulling you in even closer, leaving you to feel everything; yes, everything.

“It was good,” you giggled, knowing that you had been caught, “what was not good was your behavior since last night.”

“Hmm is that so? I don't see this being a one-sided activity?”

Your right hand left his torso, smacking him on the chest before taking a step back and walking to the car. It was fun to pretend to be annoyed, especially because you knew it would work your husband up even more. Chan hated when you sulked, especially when he playfully called you out. Chan always liked games, and so did you, because you knew that there was always one thing it would lead to. The longer the game went on, the more passionate the ending to this game would be. You walked into the car, peacefully sitting in the passenger seat as you left your husband to take your suitcase and place it in the boot. Serves him right for being a smartass. There was no sound except for the car door once the two of you were inside. The ignition was turned on, and so were you, watching your husband's arm reach over to the shoulder of your car seat, his head turned to look behind him. This was so dumb! You really should not be aroused by this; you’ve seen him do this thousands of times.

“You okay babe?”

You shook your head, snapping yourself out of this lustful daze, “yeah, why?”

“Ok it’s just,” he paused, shifting into drive, then placing his hand on the inside of your thigh, “you’re staring at me like a piece of meat.”

“I am not,” you scoffed, “you wish I was staring at you like that.”

He said nothing, a light chuckle following as the car fell into another silence. A comfortable one at that, well, to an extent. His thumb was gently nudging at your skin, knuckles inching closer to your center. There was something in the air, and the longer it lingered, the harder it was to ignore it. The want. The need to have him. It was impossible. You knew that even if you did get home soon that your daughter was home, and there was no way you were going to traumatize her like that; kids remember everything. If you took too long in the car, your father would get suspicious. He was one to get on your nerves like that, especially if he spent more time than agreed to watching your beautiful child.

“I got your text message this morning.”

Chan’s eyes were on the road, which forced you to keep yours. Your eyebrows furrowed however, knowing that the street he just turned down was not the right way to your house. Instead, Chan turned the opposite direction, the car coming to an immediate stop at a lookout, but not just any lookout. The lookout east. The two of you came from a small town, meaning there weren't many spots to go; that was until the lookout east was uncovered. Back then it was the talk of the town, the go to hookup spot for many. You have seen it yourself. It had a beautiful view however, and most of the time you and Chan would go just to admire the view, but did not mean that every time would be an innocent one. The two of you had not been in years, and there was a big question mark as to why you were here right now. Chan said nothing, getting out of the car and walking over to your side, opening your own door before opening the back door, crawling in with you following. The two of you got comfortable, that was, until Chan pinned you down to the back seat, lips once again attacking yours as he pressed his horny groin into yours, a deep groan bellowing from your husband's chest. His dominance was easy to comply with, the desperate moan falling from your lips a culmination of feelings from the past 12 hours. This really could have been the horniest you have ever been in your whole entire life, even including the times of excessive sexual hormonal changes during pregnancy. His tongue snaked past your lips, without any slight of permission as his hips fell into a gentle rhythm. Chan moved with such delicacy and poise, yet somehow he was able to convey his ultra high level of arousal. Now you were in big trouble; it was serious business when Chan pinned you down like that. It meant he had serious business to take care of.

“Chan,” you tried to speak, his lips interrupting each word, “what, are you doing?”

He pulled away, sitting up. Chan said nothing, eyes fixated on your chest as he grasped your wrist to pull you up, your body clumsily falling into him as you fixed your balance. Chan was quick to attack your lips again, hands making light work as they gripped onto the edge of your shirt. Your arms lifted unconsciously, allowing the kiss to break as he took off your shirt, your upper body in nothing but your undergarments. Your husband was like a kid in a candy store the moment he saw the slightest bit of cleavage. Chan’s arms wrapped around your back as he effortlessly unclasped the unwanted fabric, lips immediately attaching to your left nipple. A gracious moan fell from your lips, a hand tickling the back of the hair at the base of his skull, keeping a guidance. At first this tongue was small, gentle. A few kitty licks right in the center. Although it was minimal touch, you were one to have more sensitive nipples, so the feeling was already heaven enough. It wasn’t until his entire mouth was attached, a parietal noise of vacuum escaping his lips each time your tit went in and out of his mouth.

“Mmmmm,” you hummed, back arching slightly at the subtle texture of his teeth, “you’re like fuckin newborn.”

“Mhh can’t help it,” he huffed, out of breath, hand replacing his lips for a brief moment, “makes me want to have another kid.”

Chan gave you no time to reply, lips resuming their position, but now on the opposite nipple. His fingers never stopped moving, either on your shoulder, running up and down your arms, but mainly on your breasts, doing whatever he can to feel you. Each squeeze of the mound brought a whine to your throat. His statement ran through your mind and just stayed there. Having another kid was not really something the two of you had ever spoken about. It wasn’t that it was off the table, no. It truly was just something that had not come up in conversation. You could understand why he wanted to have one, and in this moment especially, it had nothing to do with having an actual child.

It is true that when you met your husband, your body shape resembled more of a P, but when you were pregnant with your daughter, Chan was on another planet. Any chance he got, his hands were on them. Call him twisted, but he loved how much bigger and softer they got when you were deep into pregnancy.

When you came back out of thought, and the major distraction of your husband's lips on your body, you pushed him away gently. You followed the sort of harsh motion with a gentle peck to his lips, arm wrapping around his neck as you smiled at him in disbelief. The last chance the two of you, well more him, had been so reckless like this was so long ago you would not even be able to recall. This didn’t mean you hated it though, if anything, it satisfied that little part of your adolescence that lingered. The adolescence that was always sparked whenever you were away. Whenever your calls turned to a lustful space. The photos. The phone calls. Usually the ‘rebellious’ behaviors were to compensate for the distance. But now, Chan was hungry for you, even when you were right in front of him.

“Babe, what has gotten into you?”

Your husband buried his face into your chest, a large breath filling his nostrils, your scent deeply satisfying him before he responded.

“I just missed you a lot, baby. And that picture you sent drove me fucking wild.”

A smirk appeared on your lips, legs hovering over your husband's waist before encasing the lower limbs around his waist, a light amount of friction created by the swift move of your hips makes him hum in pleasure. Your eyes, now sitting on top of his lap, gazed over, looking down on the poor man. There was a slight emotion of guilt there. Depriving him of getting what he wanted. You didn't really care though. If anything, pissing him off usually led to better sex after, and there was nothing in this moment that you wanted more.

“Mmmh, as much as I want this,” you mumbled, another soft kiss in between your sentences, “I need to go home and see my daughter which I have not seen in a week.”

“You’re right,” Chan chuckled, “I am getting a little bit carried away, aren't I?”

Yeah he was impatient, but he understood, and it was one thing you really loved about him. He was extremely empathetic, sometimes to a fault. Able to put himself in everyone else’s shoes. So as soon as you mentioned wanting to see your daughter more, he understood. He passed you your bra and shirt, quickly helping you put them back on, not without stealing another mouth watering kiss, and hopping back into the driving and passenger seat promptly.

The drive was once again peaceful; which lasted around 30 seconds. Maybe it was a better idea to just fuck in the back of your car, because the ache between your legs, when reflecting on the past week, was at the most intense it had been. Maybe this was your karma for withholding your body from your very eager husband. It didn’t matter now because whether you liked it or not, all of this was going to have been scheduled at a much later, uncertain time.

Chan’s hand was placed on your thigh like before, the light background and the noise somewhat distracting you, but not for long. Your husband’s grip was getting stronger and stronger, inching closer and closer to your wanting pussy with each second. A sharp gasp left your lips when his middle finger traced over the hem of your jeans, your level of arousal heightened to the point where even the breeze most likely was enough to partly satisfy yourself.

“Chan.”

“Y/n.”

“Stop it,” you whined, fingers coincidentally fidgeting with the button of your jeans, following the same direction with your zipper before the pair of pants were below your waist, your bottom undergarments now on display. You looked down, embarrassed at the mass wet patch coating your panties. Your husband's hands took a little bit of a wander, but froze almost immediately when he felt that familiar patch he had felt oh so many times. The digits were quick to act, another moan spelling from your mouth as soon as he got you in the exact spot he knew to touch. That were the perks of having a husband, because whether the time of orgasm was long or short, he knew exactly where to touch you to make that happen.

“Your body is having the opposite reaction,” he smirked, “and my eyes are strictly on the road.”

“And keep it that way.”

“Mhmm,” he ignored, fingers somehow able to push your panties to the side, raw fingertips now spreading open those pussy lips. God you felt dirty, nasty. How could you do this in your fucking car? Too horny to even wait until you were in the comfort of your bedroom. You were much too harsh on yourself. It was most definitely your husband's fault for opening that can of worms the moment he rocked up on the facetime camera without his shirt on. Therefore, your humility was minimized, there were always much worse things you could have done. Chan was easily able to find that wanting little entrance of yours, two fingers effortlessly plunging themselves inside, the unsympathetic texture of his hard working fingers gently scratching the velvet interior of your walls, hips now gently rocking back and forth on him. Your hands came to your breasts automatically, pinching, twisting, flicking the sensitive buds in any way possible that could create a replica of Chan’s mouth from previous moments. Fuck, no one else could do you like your husband, even yourself.

“Fuck Chan,” you whimpered, covering your face in embarrassment.

“Shh it’s okay,” he cooed, coaxing you through his honey textured tone, “just let it feel good, worry about other things later.”

Just as you let your head fall against the headrest, eye fluttering shut, the car came to a halt. Eyes flying open, a mound of disappointment when your visual fields were filled with your front yard. To your dismay, your husband withdrew his fingers from your pussy, a large squelching sound in the moment as he placed his hands on the gear shift, placing the toe of your into park before turning the car ignition off. The look you were giving your husband now was one of sadness, despair, making him laugh. He loved when you were dramatic.

“You’re not happy to be home?”

“Shut up,” you huffed, redoing your pants up before storming out of the car, forcing your husband to grab your suitcase as you stood impatiently at the front door, waiting for him to open it. It would be impossible to wipe the puffed up look of content on his face, knowing that he got right under your skin. Games were fun to play, but you simply knew that if he didn’t give you what you wanted soon, the house would fall into chaos. It was one thing to wind you up, but this time it was too far to push through, then stop just when things were getting good.

A fake smile plastered on your face, the refreshing thought of seeing your daughter coming back into your mind as you walked through your abode. It faded however, unable to see or hear anything that resembled your little baby. It wasn’t until you walked down your long hallway that led to your kitchen that you saw the note on your marble bench. It read the following:

Hi Darling, hope you had a safe flight!

I have taken my beautiful granddaughter to the park for a playdate with a couple of her friends and the other available parents.

We are leaving at around midday, and won’t be back for a few couple hours. Apologies you will have to wait a little longer, but I couldn’t say no to her beating eyes when she asked me.

I'll see you when I’m looking at you.

Dad

“Chan!”

Your timbre was loud, somewhat frightening your husband as he rolled your luggage across the floor, meeting you in your shared kitchen. He was kind of worried. Chan knew that your dad was taking care of her while he went to pick you up, but he never said anything about taking her out. He stood next to you, trying to analyze your expressions before you spoke. You missed your daughter a lot, there was nothing false about that statement. Nonetheless, when the smug look came to your face at the thought of what having an empty house implied, you couldn't help yourself.

“Did you know that my dad took her to the park?”

Oh fuck. Chan thought he was in trouble; big big trouble.

You bit down on your bottom lip, trying to suppress your smile at how hopeless he looked. Being the medical professional you were, it was easy to read your husband like a book. And after his actions, which were already on the verge of crossing the threshold of what you would put up with, he was in his every right mind to react this way. Walking on eggshells was the right way to go. From his friskiness on the phone, to sending an almost naked picture to you in public, to publicly groping and prodding at your highly aroused body in the discomfort of your car, to now delaying your reunion with his daughter; my my my did he dig himself a massive grave that he would not be able to dig himself out of this one.

“No,” he answered, hesitance leaking from his tone, “she must have asked him after I left.”

“Right,” you paddled, handing the note your dad had left to your husband. A sigh of relief in the form of his chest falling from the fat breath he sucked in before dissipating from his chest. Taking a step close, your husband ignored, focusing all his efforts on the written material until he felt the texture of what was your fingertips find a place on his torso, index fingers ‘accidentally’ finding a way underneath the hem of the thin material that made up his shirt. The note was removed from your husband’s face in the form of a toss with his own hand, eyes piercing into yours the more and more the skin of his torso was being exposed to the light. Your palms then became a part of the conversation, gently pressing against your husband's groin as you could feel his length awake from a light slumber.

“Why am I sensing that you’re not mad now?”

“Me,” You gasped, feigning ignorance as you finally pulled the flimsy material over your husband’s head, “I was never mad?”

“You weren’t?”

“No Mr. Bang,” you giggled, wrapping your hands around your husband’s neck once more, “Mad that you have been teasing me for almost 24 hours straight?”

Chan didn’t answer, instead sweeping your legs off the floor and into your arms, carrying your bridal style back down the said hallway, bedroom door conveniently already open as he laid you down on your back. A hum of happiness fell from your lips at the familiar feeling of your own bed sheets encompassing your back. You were brought out of those thoughts quickly however, your husband left you little to revel in bed texture, removing his sweats immediately before lifting you by the armpits again, leaving you to stand and him sitting on the edge of your shared mattress. The invitation of your barely dressed husband with a pressing erection straining his boxers was a very enticing seat. One that you took without a second thought as his hands were straight for your throat, a gentle squeeze as your lips connected first, legs cloaking his waist once more, the both of your tongues fighting for dominance over each other. Chan’s mouth vibrated as he relaxed into the sensual nature of the kiss, hands drifting away from your upper body and right to the outside of your thighs, a gentle tingle of fingertips dancing across your heated skin as you pulled away from a brief moment, wanting to match at least half of his body in the lack of clothing. Your husband helped as he withdrew his hands from your body for a brief moment, deciding to, rather than pull your nice shirt over your head like a normal person, he pulled the seams apart, splitting the shirt into two before using one hand only to unclasp your bra this time. It would be a lie if you said you weren’t impressed by it everytime.

“I liked that shirt,” you pouted, “did you have to rip it?” “I’m sorry y/n,” he chuckled, hands snaking up your sides another time, “I just want you so badly.”

There was no time to react as your husband gripped your hips, spinning you around and pinning you into the mattress. His second attack followed impeccably, hands fumbling on your jeans before getting them undone, panties groped in unison as they hit the side wall. That was an irrelevant detail, because Chan was lying on his front, abs rubbing against your core as he brought his hands back to your tits; his most favorite thing in the world. The man could not keep his hands still, mouth slobbering all over the sensitive skin as he began his second attack of the day on your nipples.

“Never gets old,” you giggle, a gentle moan following after at the contrast of your flimsy mounds and rock hard nubs. Chan’s hands felt like no other, and when he had them on you, it was the time when you felt like the luckiest woman in the world. Your husband’s chuckles followed closely to yours. Seeing his wife happy was one thing, but knowing that he could make you feel this good aroused him to another level. His admiration deepend, yes, but it was somewhat of an ego boost for him. Knowing that he was that good with his fingers.

Your husband’s lips, like his hands, began to wander, a strip of wet kisses trailing down the center of your stomach, causing him to crawl back further and further until his lips were just above your core. Chan brought his fingers right back to where he had them in the car, easily able to slip in two fingers without warning, a deep groan gritting his teeth at the way your back arched for him monumentally. The sight was one that he had been craving, one that you craved yourself. It did not matter how far apart you were from your husband, his appetite for you would never change. If he wanted to be close, he wanted to be close. If he wanted to be far, well that was just simply not plausible. As much as he wanted to pleasure you, make you feel good, like the diligent role of a husband should be, it was the closeness that motivated him every time. Chan longed for these moments, especially since the introduction of your daughter restricted the ability to do so. At any possible moment, Chan would demand to do whatever he could to profess his love, and it was always done with his mouth; his tongue to be more specific.

In this scenario, rather than speaking with tongue, it was sticking out of your husband’s lips, flattening as he dived in head first without hesitation, your hands automatically rummaging through the thick mound of curls that supported the top of his head. His tongue was heaven, spreading your pussy lips farther and farther apart and he used that ferocious organ to fiercely suck on your wanting nub. A monstrous moan escaped your lips at the contact, a gratifying humm coming from his throat at the way you tugged on his locks. Your eyes were barely open, unable to prevent yourself letting your eyelids dance back and forth from open to shut, mesmerized at the current view you had when hunching your neck to see. Chan could see the way you were desperate to view his fulfilling prophecy that was going down on his wife, making sure to lay his chest flat on your bed, ejecting his fingers from your cunt and hooking each forearm around each leg, compressing them into the mattress, giving you the perfect perspective of the combination that was his lips and tongue simultaneously pleasuring your aching core. If this was going to be the result after pining for each other for around 12 hours only, you would never think about it twice.

“I love being married,” you whined, another humorous hum escaping your husband’s lips, “tongue feels so good.”

“Mmmh,” he mumbled, half of his face muffled in your pussy, “you taste so good.”

“What was that?”

He took away his tongue for a brief moment, looking you deep in the eye before repeating his statement.

“You taste so good.”

He didn’t want to take much time away from making you, his wife, feel good, let alone waste his breath on 3 words. His tongue snaked across your inner thigh, the organ licking a gentle strip up each leg before descending back onto your gushing pussy. The smile on your face at his works was impossible to wipe off, your moans through the pearly whites getting louder and louder at the same time with your core, the accumulation of your slick and Chan’s oral fluids contributing to the squelching sound that was bringing you closer and closer to peak arousal. His lust was simply one of trance and dedication. It genuinely could not be explained enough how much he loved seeing you like this, knowing that he was the one that was doing so. Your lips contorted, unable to keep the smile as your bite down on the skin below your bottom lip, harsh enough to leave a line of marks before you were sitting up, hands leaving his hair and dominating his face, palms spread across either side before pressing a kiss to his lips. Your nose crinkled, easily identifying the taste of you on his tongue before giving him one last look, eyes completely open as you crawled backwards on your elbows, left index fingers curling in a come hither motion. The invitation was simply too divine to resist. Your husband turned into a predator, jumping on top of you like he had just caught his prey. His moves were delicate, making sure to not crush you underneath him. His lips were itching to be on yours again, and the feelings were returned, tongue automatically parting his lips and dipping inside his wanting mouth as his hands left your figure for a brief moment, slipping the thin material down his legs and over his feet, fingertips, like magnets to his wife’s skin, straight back onto you. Your own hands were now back on your husband's body, fingernails digging into the large mound of muscles that was his upper back as his fully erect length pressed against your heat. A moan slipped out of your mouth and straight into his, causing him to pull away.

“Fuck you really missed me, didn’t you?”

His smirk was fucking priceless. So annoying, but it would just be a flat out lie if you said you were not attracted to it in the slightest. Cocky did not look good on most people, but it 100% suited your husband. Your nails buried themselves deeper into his flesh at his statement, a poor attempt at humbling him in the slightest as another moan fell from your lips as he began slightly rocking back and forth, the tip of his pre-cum soaked tip hitting your extremely sensitive nub. You went to open your mouth, a failing endeavor of speaking a sentence when the only thing coming out being sounds of pleasure.

“Don’t tease me Mr. Bang,” you mumbled in between each groan, bucking your hips to create a larger friction between your two bodies. Chan was getting impatient himself, but god, did he love to tease you. Your husband had no trouble making you orgasm over and over, he just had displeasure in making you cum so quickly. Your body was sensitive solely to him, even after all these years, it didn’t take much to get you there. Therefore, teasing you made the process so much more enjoyable. Watching you squirm was something that he really enjoyed.

“Hmm Mrs. Bang,” he hummed, lifting his hips off of yours, one hand now wrapped around the base of him, “you’re so cute when you’re all hot and bothered.”

Your eyes formed into a squint, annoyed at how easily he was pinning you down, “stop playing games and fuck me. Preferably today before they get home.”

“Oh fuck,” Chan chuckled, prodding at your pussy hole with his length, “you’re right, let me get to business.”

It was funny when previously mentioned that Chan left to tease and see you squirm, because once his length was comforted by the strength of your tight walls, your husband was a mess. He couldn't help it. Your pussy, after being with you for so many years, molded exactly to the shape and maneuvers that Chan needed. He tried to maintain a slow pace, allowing for your cunt to stretch perfectly around him, wanting you to feel every inch of him; but it simply was too irresistible to resist. Chan wrapped his hands around your ankles, lifting your limbs in the air and stretching them as far as they could go before kneeling on his knees as he began to flat out pound your busy. His pace was not as fast no, by the velocity of the thrusts was truly toe curling. Your jaw dropped to the floor if it could, the bedhead surely denting the walls at the arms as each time his hope made contact with your contact, a large noise resembling a slap occurred. Your husband was usually not as rough, but it’s not that you’re complaining at all. It was rare that he would just throw you around like this, usually if he was frustrated or that you had been away. So really, you should have seen this coming. Maybe it was what provoked you to reply to his lustful text in such a similar manner; whatever you have been doing it was right seeing as he was making your pussy cry with arousal.

Chan’s teeth sunk into your left calf, a string of large huffs and puffs escaping from his chest as he put all his mighty effort into each thrust, your husband breathing heavy at the combination of his force and pleasure he got from fucking you like that. His eyes ogled however, at how easily your tits bounced back and forth.

“Fuck,” you shouted, “s-so rough.”

“You like that?”

“Mhm,” you whimper, keeping your legs in the air as your pulled him by the neck, foreheads accidentally smashing foreheads together with a significant force, “you’re fucking me like you want to put another kid in me.”

“Maybe I do,” he grunted, pressing a kiss to your lips in between, “maybe I should put another kid in you.”

God the way he talks, especially like that, turns you on so much. Your hands now travel back to the familiar spot of his back, pulling his chest against yours as he picked up his pace, thrusts much smoother with rhythm as your eyes fluttered shut, head hitting the back of the pillow ad your husband relentlessly fucked your pussy. A deep breath blew from your lips, an insufficient try to maintain your composure as your husband refused to set a forgiving speed.

“Fuck your pussy,” he growled, unable to finish his sentence.

“Yeah baby?”

“Mine,” he huffed, his own eyes fluttering shut as he pinned your upper limbs next to your head, head dipping down back to your breasts, a ferociously lick on your left nipple before he continued, “Fuck I’ll fuck another fucking child into that fucking pussy if you want me to.”

Chan became a menace when he reached his peak horniness, and during this timeline, that was right now. Anyone who met or knew Chan, as a well-respected friend, colleague, or even a stranger, knew that was one of the most polite people that you could possibly have the pleasure of meeting. Not one to swear, always use his manners and respect other people’s time and values. However, it was only you who got to see the truly feral side of him, like this, cursing his head off. It was only at this point did he forget that facade of a well-mannered gentleman. Chan was certainly not polite or gentlemen like when he fucked you, and it was a guilty pleasure of yours. It always aroused you to hear him say ‘fuck’, mumble a ‘motherfucker’ or ‘shit’ under his breath, even just in normal dialgoue. So when he said it during sex, it truly was one of the hottest fucking things your had ever seen.

“Do it,” you mumbled, unable to use your full voice, “put a kid in me.”

“Really?”

His head snapped up immediately, lips moving back to your own, pecking you one more time, but with his eyebrows raised in surprise, “Are you being serious?”

“Yes,” you smiled, fingertips spreading across your husband’s cheeks, “you have my permission.”

“Oh fuck,” he grumbled, “you really shouldn’t have said that.”

Chan’s hands snuggled under your back, scooping you and placing you up right on him, cock still inside of you as he sat up himself, keeping you close to his torso as he scooched the end of the bed. He let out a groan as he stood up, hands trailing to your hips as began to bounce you. A new level of sound escaped your lips at the new angle he was hitting inside of your pussy. It was smart to keep your arms enclosed around his neck, head buried into his chest as he still managed to keep the same pace. You really didn’t know how much more of this you could handle; the pressure in your body was building. The pit of your stomach was making its way to your final high, and your muscles were tightening in conjunction. The room’s scent was full of sweat, but also passion. Sweet sweet passion and sweet sweet love filled the four nostrils in the room, bringing you even closer to the edge.

“Chan?”

“Y/n, you okay baby?”

“I’m gonna cum baby,” you whined, “I'm gonna cum so hard.”

“Oh me fucking too baby,” he fritted through his jaw breaking teeth clench, “I’m about to blow so fucking hard.”

“Yeah?”

“All in this pussy,” he whined, placing you back down on the bed, “my pussy.”

“Mhm, all yours.”

Your husband kept your back arching off the edge of the bed, making sure that when let go of himself, that nothing but even a drop would drip out of your hole. His hips became erratic; you could tell that your husband would not last much longer. Not that you were far off either, but you know that the release of his seed would tip you over the edge.

“Fuck,” he cursed, hard, “Y/n I’m so sorry I’m gonna cum first.”

“It’s ok,” you whined, “I need your seed inside of me so fucking badly.”

“Yeah?”

“Oh yeah,” you clenched, eyes dark with lust as he kept his gaze on you, “put a fucking kid in me.”

“I fucking love my fucking wife so much,” he spat, jaw falling agape as his load exploded, the ropes of your husband’s orgasm roping over and over inside of you, “I fucking love you so much.”

“Fuck Chan,” you screamed, your own orgasm washing over and sending you into a haze, “it feels so good inside of me.”

Your whine was so attractive to Chan that he leant down to kiss you one more time, before withdrawing his aching cock, falling to your side in a heavy breath. He was quick to get back into action, however, falling off the bed and grabbing your ankles again, lifting them off the floor and onto the bed, ensuring that not a lick of his load would fall out. A fat giggle escaped from your lips when you watched him do so.

“Fuck you were serious about that kid hey?”

He was already gone, annoyingly leaving you by himself. He was quick to come back however, returning with a glass of water and a banana from the kitchen bench, handing over to you without a second thought. Your lips turned into a smile automatically, practically chugging the water down to quench your thirst before peeling the banana open. Your husband took his spot next to you, lying on his side as he watched you with admiration. All of a sudden you felt self-conscious, hesitating before putting your lips anywhere near the fruit.

“I’m starting to think you got this fruit for a particular reason.”

“No,” he chuckled, “just eat it.”

You looked away from him as your lips ‘accidentally’ slipped down the banana, much past where necessary to take a bite. You could see your husband's jaw clenching out of the corner of your eye as your motion.

“What,” you mumbled, mouth full of food, “you were asking for it.”

“Fuck your lucky that your daughter is going to be home soon.”

#bang chan #bang chan fic #bang chan smut #bang chan scenario #bang chan imagine #bang chan x reader #stray kids fic #stray kids #stray kids smut #stray kids imagine #stray kids scenario #stray kids x reader #ch4nb4ng

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carelessflower · 3 months ago

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Istyle - Alec Lightwood-Bane Issue limited 2500 copies (sold out on all black market)

The Consul talks life, fashion, and what is in his bag. Fun fact: The photographer has even more photos, but they disappear after the photoshoot. Watch out for any tall, cat-eyed man you see, he might possess all the Alec photocards

Magazine flipbook version available below the cut

tag list: @magnus-the-maqnificent @literallytypogod @hoezier-than-thou @sociallyineptbibliophile @queenlilith43

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#alec lightwood #malec #alec lightwood bane #magnus bane #shadowhunters #tmi #tsc #the mortal instruments #the shadowhunter chronicles #happy birthday alec lightwood #happy birthday alec #my edit #anhforgraphic is back baby

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lotus-n-l0ve · 1 year ago

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HIS TRANQUIL EMBRACE

— Geto Suguru x Female Reader

I Found My Forever Home In Your Soothing Arms.

*⁠.⁠✧ SYNOPSIS : When late at night you don't find your husband beside you. You go out to find him only to find him in the office.

*⁠.⁠✧ WARNINGS & TAGS : Husband!Suguru, wife!reader, workaholic!Suguru, mention of abuse, late night talk, peaks, cuddling, 1.2k words.

*⁠.⁠✧ — NAVIGATION // JUJUTSU KAISEN MASTERLIST

DO NOT PRESS [READ MORE] IF YOU ARE NOT COMFORTABLE. MINORS DNI, IF YOU DO THEN IT'S YOUR OWN RESPONSIBILITY.

Your feet padded on the floor as you made your way through the dark and gloomy hall. Drowsiness, heavy on your eyelids. In the middle of the night, your sleep broke due to the need to use the washroom.

When you were done, you noticed the empty side of the bed where Suguru was supposed to be. The bed sheet on his side was perfect and wrinkle free, meaning he has not come back to bed. You shook your head in disbelief. That workaholic of a husband of yours. But there is always a limit as to when to take a break.

You stopped in front of a wooden door, gold work carved into it. You raised a hand to knock but then changed your mind, instead you twisted the golden door handle and pushed the door open, walking inside.

The room was mostly dark, only a table lamp lighting up the room. Your husband sat behind the table, a file opened in his hand. A pair of spectacles resting on the bridge of his nose. He looked like a man straight out of romance novels. Suguru averted his eyes from the white sheets when he heard the door open only to be greeted with the adorable view of his sleepy wife trudging towards him, the long night gown dragging on the floor.

Suguru's eyes narrowed as he put the red file on the table, "Why are you up this late, Sweetheart?"

You didn't bother answering. You just slipped between his hands, dropping yourself on his lap and settling on. Your legs dangled on one side while you wrapped your arms around his torso, snuggling into his warm and strong chest. Suguru couldn't help but snort. You looked like a baby snuggling in his chest.

"How long are you going to work? Did you forget that you have a wife?" You mumbled, your fingers playing with his shirt's button.

"Just a little more." He ran a hand on your arm and placed a kiss on your forehead, "Why don't you go back and I'll join you as soon as I'm done?"

"No, thank you. I'm way too comfortable to move now." Your hands wrapped around his firm torso.

You closed your eyes, ear pressed on his chest as you concentrated on the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. Suguru let you be and picked up the file again. His father had given him the responsibility of a big project and Suguru definitely did not want to let his father down.

Silence filled in the room, only the occasional noise and page flipping. You tried to go back to the dreamland but instead you were led back to the nightmare. It was the time when Suguru was yet to appear in your life. Those gloomy days when you were barely surviving.

You have never known who your father was. He walked out of your and your mother's life eight months into the pregnancy. Soon after your mother fell into the dangerous trap of drugs. You were mostly raised by a grandma in the neighbourhood. She tried to save you from your mother's clutch as much as she could but soon enough she passed away, leaving you unprotected under your mother.

She would bring home different men everyday to hook up, to forget all her sorrow in sex. She didn't care if you saw doing the act or not. She always blamed you for her misfortune. To her, you were the reason her husband left her. He didn't find her beautiful after her belly grew. You were the bane of her life.

All the household work was left on your shoulder. The little money she made by hooking up was mostly spent on her drugs, whatever she gave you was not even enough for a bread. Often days you went to sleep with an empty stomach along with the beating from your mother. You were, after all, her anger venting machine.

You silently endured the abuse, physical as well as mental. After you turned fifteen, you ran away from home and moved to Kyoto. There you rented a one studio apartment with some money you had saved and got yourself multiple jobs to support yourself.

You completed your studies and started working in the infamous company, 'Iazami', as an intern. Years later, when you were twenty one, your life came to a stable position. In the company you met Suguru for the first time.

You knew him, everyone who used the internet knew him. He was the oldest son of the Geto family. 'Izami', founded by Akira Geto, dominated the hospitality industry. The company is now led by Suguru.

You first met him when he needed someone to fill in for his secretary and your HR recommended you for that position. You were nervous, working directly under the President put a ton of pressure on you. Suguru was professional. He liked things being done perfectly and on time. He knew when to be stern and not.

Soon you got to know the soft man under the disguise of a stern boss. You worked as his temporary secretary for one month and that one month was enough to make you fall for that man. You two developed a special bond, a bond, you knew, was not a simple boss and employee one.

After you transferred back to your previous position, you thought that everything had ended. Your story ended before it could even began. After all, what could happen between a billionaire, someone who literally owns the country and a simple intern. But you were quickly proven wrong.

The next day you found yourself face to face with Suguru. His hand held out for you as he uttered those words 'Will you go on a date with me, Y/N?'

Life after that felt like a tornado. Your lonely days were replaced with fun times with Suguru. Your bland dinner was replaced with cooking with him, going on dates, late night cuddles. Everything felt so ethereal that you worried it was all just a dream but Suguru made sure that you knew it was very much real.

You dated for three years and now you were married for two. The nightmares that haunted your nights before were overshadowed with Suguru's love.

You blinked your eyes, the sleepiness that you were feeling had now vanished with the thoughts of the past. Your head lifted to rest on the crook of his neck.

"Suguru?" You called him, your low voice appearing loud over the dead silence of the night.

Suguru hummed, one hand reaching to run it through your tangled hair. You smiled, almost like a drunk one.

"Have I ever told you how much I love you?"

Suguru chuckled, "Are you trying to get me to go to bed?"

"No…………. Is it working?"

"Yep, definitely working." Suguru closed the file, abandoning it on the table as he picked you up in his arms, "Let's go and get your beauty sleep."

He looked down when you didn't reply, only to see you already asleep. You snuggled in his chest again and this time you finally reached the dreamland instead of the nightmares because you knew this time Suguru was here to protect you from any harm. You found your forever home in his soothing arms.

All the rights and credits of the characters, gifs, songs and pictures used here belongs to their rightful owners.

#geto suguru x reader #geto jjk #getou suguru #geto suguru #suguru x reader #getou suguru x reader #jjk suguru #geto x reader #geto fluff #geto x you #jjk geto #suguru x you #suguru x y/n #suguru imagine #geto imagines #lotus writes

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koqabear · 1 year ago

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2KKKKK!!!! Congrats! I have a song equation!

Tinnitus BUT (demo ver) + enemy!Tae + angst + smut + slight fluff well since they do fuck- but they're still enemies on end.

♫: TXT, Tinnitus (Demo Ver.) // join the 2k event and request something!

"You always tried to tell your friends you don’t get along with Kang Taehyun. Did it work? Absolutely not. Now you’re stuck with him again, and there’s no telling what insanity will take over you tonight."

taehyun x fem! reader // wc: 2.6k (everyone cheer i’m getting the hang of it) // enemies to enemies, hinted fwb (the term friends used loosely), smut, MDNI.

warnings: tyun is an asshole sorry guys. slight hard dom!tyun, a bit of switch!mc, semi-public sex(?), unprotected sex, hair pulling, marking, biting, handjob, slight strength kink, hand restraining, degrading, creampie, slight cockwarming

notes: i’m so close to finally following my own rules abt the word count limit…! (i can’t keep getting away with this 😔)

Kang Taehyun was the bane of your existence— that much was obvious to anyone that spent any time around you.

He was arrogant, cocky, and overall an eye-sore; the first time you met, you actually gave him the benefit of the doubt, getting introduced through mutual friends and eventually forming a group that (unfortunately) included him.

It was bad from the start. He was a complete smart-ass and had a knack for making casual, blunt comments that would immediately put you down; you’re not even sure what the fuck you did to him, but you do know that you never let a single one of those snide remarks slide— jabbing back just as hard, showing that you weren’t all bark and that your bite hurt more than one would expect— it got to the point where your friends knew that they should hold you back on a leash when you were around each other.

Sometimes, you couldn’t even look at him; which is why you preferred to go to group events if you were explicitly told that Kang Taehyun would not be there, knowing that you would only ruin the night if you tagged along, more likely to start a fight than to try to actually enjoy yourself.

So to say that you were currently angry as you sat at a random table of a club, gritting your teeth and tapping your fingers against the table as you stared out at the dance floor, unable to look straight in fear of catching a glimpse of Kang Taehyun, was a severe understatement— you were fucking fuming. Your jaw aches from how hard you’re gritting your teeth together.

“Are you gonna dance, or are you so up-tight that you can’t even do that?”

“Leave me the fuck alone. I don’t wanna hear it.”

You’ve been dealing with his witty remarks all night. He’s just come back from the dance floor, hot and sweaty as the sight of a random girl getting all up on him practically made you gag; if you hadn’t been chosen as the designated driver tonight, you would’ve left long ago.

What’re friends for… you think bitterly, staring down at the water you only got to keep yourself occupied— you can feel Taehyun’s stare burning into the side of your face, and it only serves to make you more irritated as time goes on, hoping that he’ll stop being such a creep and look away.

“What is your problem?” you hiss, finally having enough after approximately one and a half songs of him doing this. Like expected, your eyes meet his, and a slow smile creeps its way onto his face as he leans his head back, resting against the booth as he looks at you with low-lidded, hazy eyes— he’s having fun getting under your skin, that much you can tell. You resist the urge to reach over and slap the stupid look off his face.

“Am I doing something wrong?” he asks, and you’re forced to lean toward him slightly from how quietly he talks, barely hearing him over the loud music that blasts all around you— you scoff at his words.

“Don’t act stupid, you’ve been giving me problems all night— even now, don’t think I didn’t feel the way you were looking at me all weird.”

“I feel bad,” he confesses, ignoring the way you give him a scathing look as he continues, head lolling to the side lazily to watch the packed dance floor, “You looked so pathetic over here by yourself— someone would think your friends ditched you.”

“I’m the designated driver,” you point out through gritted teeth.

“Doesn’t mean you can’t have fun.” he glances back at you, and you jolt slightly at the way his gaze rakes over you slowly, “‘Cause this…? It's just sad.”

“And what exactly would fun be to you? Practically fucking some other girl on the dance floor to the rhythm of some shitty pop song?” Fuck, he’s done it again. He’s got you riled up and it’s only making you even angrier that he’s able to get you to this point— it doesn’t help that he’s laughing condescendingly at your sudden outburst, shaking his head and muttering something that you’re unable to hear from the obscene volume of the music.

“Why are you here then?” he asks, tilting his head slightly and raising that stupid brow of his, a habit you’ve quickly come to hate, “To have intellectual conversations with other patrons?”

You don’t know what takes over you. Maybe you’ve finally been pushed to your limit, pent up and frustrated with the fact that your friends continue to brush off the fact that you and Taehyun simply do not get along— your fingers might just break your glass from how tightly you’re gripping onto it, standing up so suddenly that your chair slides away from you— but you do know that this was long overdue and well-deserved, throwing the rest of your water straight at him; a smile twitches at the corner of your lips as you take in the way his eyes screw shut and his brows knit together, left frozen as you take this moment to walk away, before you decide to say fuck it and really show him your bite.

You walk mindlessly— the dance floor is too packed, and you feel as though your body is way too lit up and restless to try and join in— so you’re making your way to the bathrooms, the hall lonely and poorly lit as you open the women’s restroom, slipping inside and ready to lock the door so you can finally take a moment to compose yourself—

“Are you fucking insane?” you don’t think you’ve ever seen Taehyun like this, eyes alight and livid as he stops you from closing the door, slipping inside and slamming it behind him, taking in the way you only take a step back and yell at him to get out, “You need to start controlling that little temper of yours, cause you’ve really been getting on my nerves recently.”

“Oh really?” you laugh out, incredulous as you take a step toward him, pushing his chest roughly and forcing him to stumble back against the door, “Because you’ve been a total fucking angel, haven’t you? All pretty and proper, such a good boy, right?”

“Not my fault you’re such a wound-up bitch that doesn’t know how to take a joke and have fun,” he spits out, unfazed by the way you corner him and send him a nasty glare, refusing to back down even though you seem like you’ll get physical any second now.

“Take a joke? Have fun?” you seethe, poking his chest as you speak, “Everything that comes out of your mouth is a pathetic attempt at low blow disguised as a joke. So forgive me if I don’t find you funny.”

For once, Taehyun doesn’t know what to say— all he’s able to think of is the way you’ve practically pressed him against the door with your own body, the way his chest dully aches from the way you’ve been poking at him, and the way your own is heaving slightly from how angry you are, lips parted and eyes blown out with rage as they flicker up to take in his expression.

A moment passes; then, your lips are on his, and his hands are on your waist, jerking you forward and forcing you to close any space left.

What possessed you to do this? You’d rather not think about it, choosing instead to get lost in the feeling of Taehyun and push past the fact that it’s him, the man who likes to degrade others for fun— actually, you think you will think about it, digging your nails into his shoulders and taking in the way he groans slightly against your mouth— and you quickly take this opportunity to take the kiss further, tongue eager to taste him as his hold on you tightens slightly.

“Fuck,” he mumbles against your lips, feeling the way you refuse to part for longer than a second; he frowns, a hand going up to grab at your hair before he’s tugging at it— using it as leverage to pull you away from him, watching the way your head slowly tilts back before your eyes are fluttering open, looking at him with such anger he can’t hold back his breathy laugh.

“I can’t believe you, you…” he mutters out, and you can already tell he’s about to say something that will morbidly sober your clouded mind.

“Shut up and put those lips to use,” you sigh, fingers tangling in the nape of his hair before you’re tugging him back toward you— you’re holding back a smile at the way your hands smooth over his shirt, the material slightly damp under your skin and his hair pushed back from how much he ran his hands through it.

Besides the fact that your hand is currently undoing Taehyun’s zipper and his lips have begun to suck and bite at your neck, nothing has really changed; you can still hear him cursing you under his breath, feeling the way he lets out a shaky sigh the moment your hand wraps around his length— teasingly stroking him, making sure to lead him on but not give him enough.

It’s all a game of cat and mouse, judging by the way he’s just as eager to try and pull sounds out of you. Though, when he sees his current efforts aren’t working, he decides to take a different approach.

One thing you’ll never be able to deny about Taehyun is that he’s strong; he’s proving himself now, pushing you back and making you sit on the sink counter with ease— his hands are rough as he pulls up your dress, sloppy kisses still being laid out across your neck as he huffs slightly at your wandering hands; pulling away before he’s stepping back, slipping his belt off with ease and restraining your wrists with them— quietly, you muse about him being oddly skilled at it, but you’re quickly quieted by the way he tugs at the belt again, tightening the item around your wrists and listening to the way you whine at the feeling.

“Such a smart mouth,” he mumbles, pulling his cock out as he takes a look at you, eyes drinking in your dazed eyes and fucked out appearance with delight, “Too bad you’re too dumb to know when to shut up.”

He’s grabbing your waist before he’s tugging you forward— you slide slightly across the counter, legs spread open as Taehyun stands in between, feeling the way one of them hooks around his waist before you’re tugging him in closer, eyes challenging as you raise a brow impatiently.

“Don’t give me that look,” he scoffs, allowing his tip to run teasingly along your slit, feeling the way your walls flutter around him in response, “Or I’ll leave you here and make you wish you begged for me while you had the chance.”

“Oh really?” you tilt your head, tugging him closer and feeling the way his tip breaches your entrance for a moment— your breath hitches, and though Taehyun pretends to remain unaffected, you can feel his cock twitch with anticipation. “I’m sure you’re all talk.”

This, Taehyun decides, is about as far as allow you to continue to provoke him; he’s pushing into you with one swift motion, watching the way your voice breaks and your mouth falls open at the feeling of him inside you, thick and warm and full as you clench around him, your pussy already wet from the way he simply couldn’t take his hands off you earlier; you hope he doesn’t notice it, but the way his lips quirk to form his usual arrogant smile definitely isn’t a good thing.

Taehyun doesn’t give you a chance to adjust. He doesn’t take it slow, doesn’t ask you what feels good or what you like— he simply gauges your reaction and begins to fuck you, grinning at the way you whimper and whine that it feels good, throwing your head back and giving him access to mark your neck and collarbones, making sure to leave enough that you’ll remember this for a long time— after a moment, you realize what he’s doing, cursing under your breath and pulling at your restraints as he simply responds by sinking his teeth into the delicate flesh.

“Gonna make sure you remember this. Make people ask who you got these from,” he whispers, laughing mockingly at the way you whisper out a fuck you, retaliating by sucking harshly right at your jaw, just under your ear, “Feels good? Like knowing it’s me making you feel like this?”

You can barely process what he’s telling you; not when he’s grinding into you so good, his breaths heavy against your skin as he leans back up to kiss you once more— it’s a mess of tongue and teeth as you both fight to remain on top, the only thing you can still have control over as you sink your teeth into his lip meanly; he only reciprocates by fucking you harder, a hand reaching down to rub at your clit as he smiles against your lips, trying to keep control with the way you clench around him.

You’ve realized reluctantly that Taehyun is not all talk— he’s found the spot that has your body tensing and your sounds becoming louder, undoubtedly beginning to filter out the bathroom as Taehyun slaps a hand over your mouth; sending you a harsh glare, his brows furrowing at the way you tighten around him and your mouth falls slack against his palm.

“Be fucking quiet,” he hisses, letting out a hitched breath at the way you only buck your hips in response, your leg locking around his waist and bringing him impossibly close as you look up at him, your eyes dazed and glossy as you feel the way his cock twitches inside you at the sight— his pace picks up, and Taehyun can feel his high approaching, swollen lip bitten at and stuck between his teeth as he takes in the way you squirm under him, tears swelling at your waterline as you whine and moan against the palm of your hand.

Taehyun is the first to unravel; filling you to the brim, the feeling of his warm cum and thick cock that continues to rut into you enough to have you following soon after, chest arching toward him from the way he leans down in a sudden attempt to muffle his sounds, cruel mouth biting at the junction between your neck and shoulder as you merely curse at him in your mind.

He doesn’t pull out— if anything, he’s still fucking you slowly long after, a slow pace as he mumbles something about keeping you filled; you don’t even have the energy to roll your eyes, resting your head against his own that is still buried in the crook of your neck, attempting poorly to catch your breath. After a moment, the reality of everything seems to set in, and your wrists ache.

“If you tell anyone about this, you’re dead.”

He huffs in amusement.

“This is embarrassing for me too, you know,” he mumbles, turning his head so you can feel the way he noses along the column of your neck, sighing slowly before he says, “But I wouldn’t be against it happening again. You know, just to put you in your place.”

The moment Taehyun takes this stupid belt off you, you’ll show him what it means to be put in place.

But for now, you’ll settle with the feeling of his cock still inside you and his arms wrapped around your waist. (For another thirty seconds, it’s been long enough and you’re sure there are others waiting outside by now.)

#[2k event!]#[song equations]#[nsfw]#txt fanfic #txt fanfiction #txt imagines #txt oneshots #txt ff #txt x reader #txt smut #txt hard hours #txt hard thoughts #taehyun smut #taehyun ff #taehyun imagines #taehyun oneshot #taehyun x reader

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y-rhywbeth2 · 7 months ago

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Ketheric continues to be the member of the Chosen I struggle to get a grip on. Like the other three I can tell you the details of why (I think) they grew up to monsters:

Long post.

Let's start with Gortash: spent his childhood being told he was a selfish monster for his thoughts - apparently from birth - for the way he perceived the world, for *checks notes* wanting his parents attention as an undeveloped human being that relies on its parents to survive and thrive.

Then his parents send him to hell as part of a deal. Because that's where monsters go isn't it? They go to hell to suffer eternal damnation because they were monsters in life.

So you grow up in one of the literal cesspits of the universe, where the only people you meet are the literal scum of the universe, or those you're going to learn to see as weak fools who had to rely on others - and were ultimately willing to commit atrocities themselves - who were taken advantage of by the scum of the universe. You get to the Hells by committing atrocities, either because you want something so badly you'll fuck somebody over for it (out of greed, or because you couldn't fix it yourself (weak)) or because you did them of your own volition. And curiously, some of these people had their price tags wrapped in such subtle terms they don't even realise they did anything wrong! Lesson learned; anyone will willingly be a monster if you make the evil sound nice. Every single devil you meet has had the humanity flayed from their soul, and they got to where they are in their existences by fomenting (and committing) hate and rape and murder and everything evil under the sun as a regular Monday morning in the ultimate goal to make the universe an evil place. Devils are also 'self made men', everybody started from nothing as a lemure and clawed their way to where they are now. Every social interaction in the Hells is manipulation and abuse. Everyone there hurts everyone.

But you do have one example of a good person! There's Hope! Lovely lady, kind and sweet... Trapped in hell being abused forever going insane because of it because your ambitious sister fucked you over. That's where trust and love being a good person gets you.

And that was his entire social life. That was the people he had to look to for examples. All his early experiences were limited to a sample of the absolute worst it has to offer, and he has a very skewed view of the universe.

And the fact that he's apparently so damn good at sex a lady gave him a ring worth everything she owns after growing up around a pleasure devil whose role is harming and corrupting people with sex and has built in charm person at etc is not ringing alarm bells(!) I'm not side-eyeing the boudoir at all.

I wonder why having a child/teen spend their formative years in the evil factory literally designed to spit out monsters... spat out a monster? Kudos to Karlach, though: just how many layers of defence mechanisms has she got in her brain?

Gortash's thought processes are 50% through the lens of engineering and 50% through the lens of a devil's perspective to me. People will sell out others for their own gain, because they're too weak to do it themselves or because they're bastards. If you don't get with the programme you're the victim. You only get ahead by being ruthless. Everybody is untrustworthy, and relying on them will get you betrayed. The world is divided into the weak and the ruthlessly strong who take what they want. Yes, he's a monster. And so are his parents. And so is everyone. And then Bane saw this perfect example of his way of thinking and said 'that one.'

Orin: obviously we've got grooming. The fact that her formative memories include her mother trying to murder her, and the fact that she feels like the only person who has ever cared about her or supported her is her grandfather. Who is implied to have been raping her, or intending to. All she's permitted is to have her brain poisoned by her faith, which her life revolves around, and then her kin 'does it all wrong' and inherits everything she's been groomed to believe is hers. But no, 'they're not wrong,' says everybody around her 'you are!'

She's a Bhaalspawn, so her relationships with her kin are "kill or be killed," as Helena proved. You will please father by slaughtering your siblings, or you will die - or worse. You must be and stay favoured by Bhaal above all the others to be truly safe ("safe"), and Durge outranking her is a threat to her existence. Actually Durge existing is a threat to her well-being. She has no way to live a life outside the cult, never has and never will. Her life is insanely lonely and mostly consists of paranoia.

But the overlaying theme here is that she's a changeling. She's mirrorkin with no unique physical identity of her own, she can only reflect those of others. To be dnd canon accurate: she has no real facial features, no pigmentation. She's not permitted an identity of her own, and was punished for trying. She's a mirror born and raised to reflect the glory of Bhaal, the glory of her failed grandfather, the rise of Bhaal's favourite child. Never her own. Gee, I wonder why she literally wears people's skins.

Denied the ability to do anything but live according to what she's told, she does her best to live up to it because to fail is to become her parents and the countless aunts and uncles currently enjoying their damnation in the Throne of Blood. And then she's told she's doing it wrong. By everybody. She's a 'rabid dog'. She, despite having doctrine poured into her ears and probably carved into her flesh her entire life 'doesn't understand Bhaal.' And everybody is insanely patronising about it! You're never allowed to be anything but what we tell you to be, but you're still not good enough! Which is death. The Temple of Bhaal needs murder feminism.

The Dark Urge is my favourite little nightmare, and I've talked about them at length: much of Orin's trauma also applies to them, although where she's a mirror made to reflect the egos of others, Durge is only allowed one identity: Bhaal's. Where Orin can never seem to reach the standards forced on her, Durge is never allowed to fail to meet them, or else. Every outside connection they ever had was brutally sabotaged, and they've had 'you're a monster and only I (your abusive Father) can love you' drilled into their mind. They hate themself. We got the threat of sexual exploitation (assuming it didn't happen), there's a subtle undercurrent of incest to some interactions. The prayer for forgiveness kind of sums it all up: 'I'm sorry for forming an emotional connection that isn't blind love for you father, but don't fret, I'll destroy it with my own hands just like everything else and then finally get to kill myself just like I've always wanted.'

But Ketheric? Like villains don't need tragic backstories to be terrible people, but it does make them more interesting.

OK, so your bio family is fucked up and I definitely get the impression that they sucked (Malus is giving me vibes that say he'd have been a villain anyway, and might've been secretly Sharran to start with; Gerringothe seems to be drowning whatever her issues are in gold), and then the loving family you made for yourself broke: your wife died, and your daughter died, sure. But plenty of people on Toril probably have similar if not the same stories and didn't go evil overlord! Why are you doing this? What is informing these decisions? Why does your existence hinge so much on your dead daughter that your son is basically named after her and you seem to hate him for existing and not being her? Does Shar have something to do with it? Has Ketheric just carved out so much memory and emotion, so much of his own identity, that all that's left is the grief and the hunger for the pain to stop but, as per Shar's intent, it keeps coming back, with less and less positive memories to soften the pain. A wound that festers and never heals. Is the obsession with Isobel because she's the icon of everything that was good in his life, and her loss was the moment everything good was gone? Was he a rational man who turned to Shar to stop the pain in a moment of understandable grief and rage at her sister, and then was trapped in a cycle that destroyed everything that was good in that man until we get the General?

Just guess working my way through his entire backstory...

#I just want to rescue Orin; she breaks my heart #and I kind of hate that she didn't win on some levels #I just want to rescue her ToB style but without the bad ending that got added in post-game #babbling #edgelord hours #villainous nonsense #the family circle #/durge #/orin #/gortash #/ketheric

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thatfreshi · 8 months ago

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"Undeserving"

Hi! This was an expedited request by @mosshugs who asked that I go more into my headcanon of Astarion having ED behaviors. I want to preface this by saying I have limited experience with ED behaviors, and most of my experience and knowledge is from people I know with eating disorders, and I apologize if something I've written here doesn't feel correct for the experience.

So, BIG TW for eating disorder talk on this one.

If you'd like to have an expedited request, please check out the pinned post on my blog! (The masterlist can now be found under the tag freshimasterlist.)

When it comes to survival, it is difficult to foster nurturement, to find the strength to nourish even the smallest part of yourself. It is especially difficult for those who never had a nurturer, those who grew up without the protection of a mama bear, those who were ripped away from safety and forced into survival primarily, to find the strength to care, even if it's for themselves. While it seems like common sense, some part of you couldn’t ever fully understand the phenomena of nourishment and survival. That is, until you were faced with the conundrum head-on.

Astarion had somewhat perfected survival at this point, despite the fact that it was mostly not his choice. A more proper word choice might be endurance, the ability to persevere through torture despite your undying presence. Even now, he had endured all the way to the city, all the way to the legendary ‘Baldur’s Gate’ that you had been fighting towards for weeks. The two of you understood each other quickly, smoothly, reading each other like tea leaves. But, just like premonitions, not all of the details unfold as quickly as others.

Your vampiric lover had been feeding on you almost every evening since you found out about his little ‘secret,’ that he didn’t quite hide as well as he thought he did. Of course, it started when you were merely aquaintances, continued on when you were friends, and then turned into something more. Now, feeding on you is a romantic ritual of sorts, a sign of trust, a moment of recluse and safety. Safety is a word that Astarion is unfamiliar with, the feeling at least. But those moments he has drank from you, he has finally started to understand what exactly it means to be safe. That is, until he suddenly stopped.

You were waiting to face Cazador, a being who had now become one of multiple banes of your existence. Sadly, things on a wild adventure don’t necessarily schedule themselves neatly, which was making both you and Astarion jittery, anxious.

“We should rest soon you know. Plenty more villains to get around to.”

He isn’t fully listening, something you’re quite used to dealing with.

“I know.”

He’s more exhausted these days, moreso than usual. Everyone is tired obviously, but you’re more tuned into his energy than the others.

“Have you fed recently? It’s been a while since you’ve asked me.”

“Of course. How many people have I killed just today? Plenty of blood has been going around.”

He stands in the opening of the tent, staring off into nothing while you sit on the ground.

“You and I both know you don’t stop for long enough to get enough out of any of those fools.”

“And you take me for a liar?”

Astarion’s tongue is sharp, and he finally turns to face you.

“I take you for a liar, but not usually a liar to me. Now, come, drink some.”

You’ve had plenty of banters like this, where he has been difficult with you, but the night air doesn’t sit peacefully like on those nights. He’s not staring at nothing, but at the past, the future. He doesn’t bend to your whim.

“Really, my darling Tav, I am alright. Perhaps you should go to bed without me, I might be up for a while.”

Distant. He’s only distant when something is truly bothering him, just like he was in the beginning, just like he was when you met him on the beach.

“Astarion, why don’t you want to feed on me?”

Out of the myriad of things he doesn’t like, he doesn’t like direct confrontation from you. When it comes to safety, survival, nourishment, he likes to be elusive. He likes to hide from you, because sometimes you let him. He wasn’t allowed to hide before, when he was still living at the palace. Sometimes though, you can’t let him hide.

“Who said I don’t want to feed on you? Why, your blood is delightful! Delectable even.”

And there he goes, that slight seduction in his tone, a distraction.

“Then why haven’t you drank from me in days? Over a week at this point?”

Now comes the moment when he realizes there is no way out, that you’re onto him, that he can’t dance around it with his words any longer. He makes his way to be next to you.

“I… I’m not really sure Tav.”

A very rare occurrence, where Astarion sounds entirely clueless.

“What do you mean?”

“I, I mean I do want to. I’ve told you so many times before how much I delight at our feedings, I just-”

You give him a moment.

“I feel, wrong.”

“Wrong?”

“Wrong. Like it wouldn’t be right to feed from you.”

“Aster, I’ve told you how many times that I’m okay with you feeding on me. It’s even enjoyable at times! And besides, it’s good for you, and it strengthens our bond-”

“I don’t think any of that is what this is. And I do hear you, but this… this is different. Maybe it’s because we’re so close to confronting, him.”

Both of your faces change slightly at the thought of Cazador.

“Are you nervous? Because that seems entirely natural.”

“Well, yes. Of course I’m nervous, not that I would tell anyone else that. I think this though, is perhaps a feeling of being undeserving of something.”

“Like what?”

“Freedom, love, more than rats. I have wanted to feed on you numerous times, but I find myself being held back by this feeling of being… undeserving.”

“My dear, you are entirely deserving of feeding, especially on me.”

You move to comfort him, a light touching arm.

“I suppose it doesn’t feel that way right now. You know what I was forced to drink from before: flies, rats, other vermin. And of course, when you first offered for me to feed from you, I was so incredibly taken away by a luxury I was never given. Now though, I simply wonder if I should’ve ever had that luxury at all, or if I should have that luxury even now.”

“You are deserving though.”

“I don’t think that will fix it my love. I don’t know if anything that you say can fix this.”

One of the hardest truths of love, that your words cannot always fix their wounds. That sometimes, there are things you will never be able to heal by yourself.

“Then… how do we fix it? How do we make you feel deserving of feeding?”

He fumbles with his hands.

“Time? Patience? I don’t honestly know darling.”

You move a hand over to his wandering ones, hoping to ground him a little.

“Maybe, now that I know, we could at least try? Even just a little?”

There’s a hint of optimism in his demeanor, something you’ve seen more of over time.

“Alright then, we can try. But that’s all I can promise, an attempt.”

And so, he moves to prepare as you lie down, a much easier way to get your life’s essence taken. It’s a little more tense than usual, which makes sense following a conversation like that. There’s a moment where his teeth pierce your skin, and a piece of time where he does feed, and then there’s a sharp pull away. He seems almost nauseous when you sit back up. You cover the rip he just made on your neck with a nearby piece of cloth.

“I’m sorry, I just… I can’t tonight. I’m sorry.”

“Hey, you tried. That’s all I said right, that we should try?”

You move back over to him and wipe at a tear, one made from an apology he never should’ve had to give.

“Right. And maybe we can try again tomorrow?”

“Of course my love, of course.”

When the two of you lie down finally, there isn’t much said for the rest of the evening. You’ll never quite know exactly what he felt in that moment, what tasting your blood was like, how it made him ill and scared. One thing you do know is that you’ll be there again the next evening, and the evenings later, even if it takes a lifetime to repair that relationship with feeding from you. And maybe eventually, there won’t be that feeling of being undeserving anymore. Maybe one day, there will be nourishment instead of survival, but for now, you can try and make survival as nurturing as you can.

#astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion #baldurs gate astarion #baldur's gate 3 #angst

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mistyresolve · 2 years ago

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| Wayward Behaviour - Simon “Ghost” Riley x F!Reader

Word Count - 1.7 k

Summary - Every time Simon comes back home to you after a mission, the two of you spend the first couple of hours catching up for the lost time. Here is an example of the first hour.

Tags/Warnings - 18+ ONLY, Handjob, Road head, Premature ejaculation, Begging (yes, it's Simon), Mentions of edging

A/N - here is something short and sweet in celebration of me passing my pharm final the bane of my existence, and there may or may not have a brief homage to “Talking to the Void”

Masterlist ❤︎ Tag List Form

It was dark out by the time his charter landed, and the street lights had already turned on. His profile became outlined by those same lights in swells as his truck passed underneath them. Going a little faster than the limit because he was lost in the ecstasy that your touch always brought him. His mind went momentarily blank and looked down at you, his brown eyes curious. He had already changed into his civics, blue jeans, a black sweater, a canvas bomber jacket and that same old ball cap. You once offered to buy him a new cap so you could throw this one out and he simply said, “This one is lucky.”. You never would have taken someone like him to be so superstitious, but he was.

“Eyes on the road, Riley, “ it was a sickly sweet command. Simon never normally liked to follow the orders of someone who wasn’t his superior, but when they came from your lips he didn’t dare disobey. Not when your hands were drawing lines up and down his thigh. Your pace was unhurried and alluring. With promises of more.

“They are,” he muttered quietly, his throat tightening as your hand travelled a little more medial. He motivated the gesture by spreading his legs further apart, allowing you better access.

Simon knew very well that when he came home from particularly long missions he was almost always welcomed with tantalizing ensembles or sensual promises. The sex was sometimes better when the missions stretched over weeks and there was minimal contact. Every moment with you was made all the more exhilarating and frenzied. The heat between you two the moment you got any semblance of privacy burned into his very soul. A burn he wished left corporeal marks in their wake, all so he could return to them later and reminisce. When he was on missions and he had the rare moment alone he would palm himself just for some relief. He never came but it was better than needing to constantly adjust his pants when the mere thought of you made him hard. He’s also yet to decide whether the edging was torture or if it made being you all the better. This time, he was gone for a total of 16 days. 16 days where he went without your touch and he was only able to make one phone call this time.

One thing he did know was that nothing he did you himself held a torch to what you made him feel. He swore you knew his body even better than he did.

When you picked him up from the airport and immediately hopped over the center console so he would be behind the wheel, he knew what your plans were. He wasn’t going to be the fool to stop you, not when your hand reached over to his thigh. Between the growing hardness between his legs.

Simon rolled his hips into the palm of your hand, eliciting a groan at the touch. A pained expression flashed across his bare face, “Bloody ‘ell, baby.”

That seemingly harmless reaction was more than enough to let you know that he wouldn’t be lasting long. He was already on the edge. You’d still try to find a way to draw it out as much as you could though. “Do you want me to stop?” you questioned, pulling your hand away.

He caught you by the wrist, his head whipping from the road to you and back to the road, his eyes feverish, “I’ll pull over right here.”

“No need,” you smiled up at him, your tongue darting out to wet your lips, “As you were.”

He let out a deep, breathy laugh, “Yes ma’am,” and he guided your hand back to his erection. You traced the outline of it, adding a little more pressure around the head before flattening your palm over him and making long, leisurely strokes.

His lips parted as a sigh escaped his chest. The smoke of his tattoo, came to life as the muscle in his arm flexed as his hand tightened around the steering wheel. His other hand worked to undo his belt and jeans, his fingers were nimble and calculated. You bit down on your lip as you watched, knowing exactly how it felt when those same long fingers were inside you. How he would curl them at just the right moment, each and every stroke. His thumb would be rubbing circles into your sensitive clit.

“Touch me,” he was practically begging as he pulled his hard cock free from his jeans, and began jerking himself, “Please.”

It was rare to hear him out of control, and even rarer to hear him beg. It was a real delight when you’d get him to this point. The last time he was like this he was on his knees before you, kissing up the length of your thigh till he met your center and he begged for you to let him taste you. He licked and sucked and kissed your pussy until you were nothing but a shaking whimpering mess.

Without hesitation, you obliged him. You spit into your hand before reaching for him again, wrapping around his base and squeezing. You stroked up and down. Up and down. His hips lazily followed the rhythm. When your thumb brushed over the head and he had to lean his head back against the seat to keep from driving the both of you into the ditch. His eyes were on the road, yes, but they were glassy, unfocused. Luckily, since it was already so late the highway was light on traffic.

You unlocked your seatbelt and the sound snapped him out of whatever trance he was in. He glanced over with a cocky smile, “Wanting more?” He was so conceited. You liked it, but you also wanted to humble him. With your knees on your seat, you leaned yourself over the center console and to his side. You spit down onto him, a string of saliva connecting you two. It slid down the side of his shaft, mixing with the pre-cum that had already started to drip down.

“Okay,” his voice was tight like he was trying to prepare himself.

“You’re not going to last very long are you, Simon?” you flattened your tongue and licked a stripe up his length.

“No,” he admitted, “No, I’m not.”

You grinned to yourself before taking him fully into your mouth. You could feel him shudder beneath you, fighting back the urge to buck further into your throat. What you couldn’t fit into your mouth you grasped with a free hand, twisting a little every time you pulled back. It evoked a combination of nervous laughter and moans from the man. Something that seemed so at odds with his exterior and usual aloof personality but somehow it suited him.

You hollowed out your cheeks, your tongue circling around the head, sliding along the slit. You felt one of his hands delve into your hair, balling up a fist full. It wasn’t to push you down or pull you off him but to support himself. Ground himself so he didn’t float out the window and into the night sky beyond.

“I gotta—” he choked out, and you heard him as he flicked on the turn signal, missing the thing entirely the first time in his frantic state. The force of him turning off the highway was almost enough to throw you into the dashboard. You pulled back, barely catching yourself from falling onto the floor.

“Jesus, Simon,” you snapped, shooting a glare in his direction.

“Don’t stop,” he panted, “Please, don’t stop.”

With his hand still tangled in your hair, you fell back down into him. A bubble of excitement rises in your throat at the sound of his desperation. Wet, gagging sounds echoed through the small enclosed space, and each time he hit the back of your throat it tightened catching him on his withdrawal. You braced your hand on the open space between his legs, your other hand reaching down to press two fingers to your clit through your pants, needing any sort of relief. You rolled your hips side to side, giving him a little show of your ass.

He squeezed his eyes shut, as he felt his ending. It was coming in hot and fast, and he panted at the pressure of it. He usually prided himself on his stamina and control, but there was nothing he could do to slow it. Nothing he wanted to do.

“Atta girl, just like that,” he pulled your hair away from your face. It was for two reasons, the first being that you didn’t have the mind to put up and out of your face before going down on him, and the second was so he could see his cock disappear and reappear. The sight was all it took to push him over the edge. The vein beneath his cock throbbed and pulsated against your tongue as he came. His hot seed coated the back of your throat, some of it escaped and dribbled down his base. You swallowed around him, milking him, before finally seating back on your knees. You opened your mouth to him, showing him that you swallowed. A mix of saliva and cum hung from your chin, a lewd presentation of what you just did to him. He reached out and wiped it away for you, a wicked look in his eyes.

“I might have to go on missions more often,” he half-joked as he reached into the glove compartment and handed you a tissue, keeping another to help clean himself up.

“Or just never leave,” you countered, using the tissue you cleaned what you could. You looked out the window. He had actually pulled off onto a gravel side road, he almost didn’t make it too. When you looked back at him he had already straightened himself, save the still unbuckled belt. His expression was unreadable.

“We better hurry home before I ask you to fuck me right here,” you feigned naïveté as you back down onto your seat. All you managed to do was whet his appetite for you because when he pulled into the driveway of the house you weren’t sure you were going to make it through the front door. He wrapped his arms around your waist, ducking down to attach his mouth to your neck as you try to unlock the door. His hands snaked south until they disappeared underneath the front of your pants, finding nothing but slick heat.

“You’re insatiable,” you gasped, leaning your head back into his shoulder, fumbling to open the door.

“Wait until we get inside,” he challenged.

Masterlist ❤︎ Tag List Form

A/N - im going to try and write a couple of short fics to post for the month of May bc i won’t have time to write, but if anyone has any ideas on what i should write lemme know.

Tag List - @thychuvaluswife ❤︎ @shuttlelauncher81 (sorry, the first thing i tag you guys happens to be smut 😀)

#simon ghost riley #simon riley #ghost #cod ghost #cod fanfic #cod #cod x y/n #MW2 #mw2 x reader #simon ghost riley fanfiction #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley smut #smut #mw smut #cod smut #simon ghost riley x you #MistyGhosties

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