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Just bought this! It smells amazing!
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He Feels Safe With You — Azriel x Reader
Summary: Azriel's sleeping habits begin to worry you, but after a conversation with Cassian, you realize you've misinterpreted the entire situation.
Warnings: Major fluff. Like tooth-rotting sweetness. Sleepy Az.
Author's note: I should be sleeping because I have work tomorrow but instead I've chosen to write this oneshot and I have no regrets.
It was starting to become a problem now.
You cocked your head to the side, cradling a cup of tea in your hands and watching Azriel as he continued to sleep soundly in your bed. You had the windows cracked open and the early Autumn breeze swirled indoors with the scent of lavender, bergamot, and the strawberry jam you’d slathered over your toast. You checked the time once again on the glossy marble clock face. The arrow-shaped hour hand clicked ever closer to 11am, the minute hand close to overtaking its competitor.
10:55am and Azriel was still asleep.
The sheets clustered loose and low around his waist, mimicking the curling of his shadows up and down the ridges of his spine and across the delicate membrane of his wings. His wings hung loose and relaxed, stretching off the edges of your bed and caressing the floor with a lover’s touch. You blushed at the sight. When you and Azriel had first started courting each other three years ago, you’d thought through the mechanics of housing an Illyrian warrior in your bed — should you buy a new bed frame and mattress? Did you even have space for it in your apartment? The answer had been no to both, and yet Azriel loved when your daytime activities ended here instead of at the townhouse. If he cared about having to walk sideways to avoid the bookshelves in the halls or having to crouch to avoid the overhang above the staircase, he didn’t mention it.
Three hours ago you’d woken up beneath the gentle weight of his wings, untangled yourself from Azriel’s greedy limbs, and crept down the stairs to your kitchen, bleary eyed but well rested. But that was three hours ago! Since then you’d brushed your teeth, washed your face, and eaten breakfast, and still the Shadowsinger hadn’t stirred. You were beginning to question whether he truly was the Spymaster of the Night Court as you sat in your velvet chair and admired your lover. You traced all the subtle movements of his body as he muddled through dreams you could only wonder at — the creasing of his brow, the slack line of his lips as he breathed, the twitching of his fingertips as he reached for some phantom object.
The clock struck eleven and you sighed, gathering your plates but leaving Azriel’s pile of toast, butter, and honey alone. You also left the teapot and its mismatched cup, blowing magic over its lid in a silent command to keep its contents hot until Azriel awoke.
“I’ll be down in the shop,” you whispered to his shadows, trusting that they would relay the message when their master finally decided to grace the daytime with his presence.
One by one, shadows slipped off Azriel’s skin, curling around your ankles and wrists in a silent plea to stay. You shook them off like one might a needy child, promising you’d only be two floors down.
The artists’ corner in Velaris was an eclectic array of compact townhouses, each outwardly dressed in their unique, dazzling finery. Your townhouse was squished between a painting studio and a luthier’s. The painting studio’s owner seemed intent on changing the color of the wooden sidings every other day and the drawings scribbled over the windows every other week. Today it was periwinkle blue to match the hydrangeas overflowing from the window boxes.
You nodded in approval as you flipped the apothecary sign over from “Much apologies, please try another time” to “You’ve caught us! We’re open!” The blue would match your tulip yellow sidings and the clean white accents of the luthier’s. Last week it had been red and that had looked gods-awful.
You busied yourself in the shop, crushing up lavender and herbs and boiling mugwort in fire-stained glassware in between flurries of customers until the medicinal stench in the air grew thick and strong. You were used to it by now. It smelled clean. Like home.
You were finishing tying up a bundle of teabags when Cassian came in carrying a sturdy wooden box under one arm like it weighed five pounds instead of fifty. You snapped out the wrinkles of a cloth bag, dropping the teabags and five vials of sleep serum for the nightingale-winged nymph in front of you.
“Four feathers and three strands of hair, as we bargained for,” you said, sliding the bag across the counter.
The nymph nodded in approval, extending out a wing and shoving her fingers into the pillowy softness. She tested for loose feathers ready to pull.
“You’re a godsend, Y/n, has anyone ever told you that?” She pulled out three feathers, closed her wing, and started testing the feathers on the other side. “Finnigan’s was asking me for ten. Ten! Can you believe that? If I hadn’t found you in time I’d have been reduced to a plucked chicken.” She was much less precious about her mousey brown hair and yanked out three strands at random. “Oops, you get an extra strand today,” she sang, dropping the feathers and hair into the jars you held out.
“Well it’s a good thing you found me then, Moricka.”
“Honestly! I understand he’s got a large studio space he’s renting in the thick of the Palace, and even I will admit the ambiance is rather professional—”
Cassian raised his brow, a smirk tugging at the corners of his scarred lips as he continued to stand motionless in the doorway. It was true your space was more… homey than Finnigan’s, but your expertise shined in intimate spaces. You liked the control and the familiarity that came from running a smaller business and you wouldn’t give it up for the world.
“But I do think the success is getting to his head. You both studied under Lady Madja so I don’t see why—”
You nodded absentmindedly. It was always like this with Moricka. The songbird in her made it difficult for her to stop talking, but at least her voice was pleasant.
She threw her hands up in the air before finally catching wind of another presence in the room. Cassian waved at her with a wink and an orange blush creeped onto her full cheeks. He tended to have that effect on fae with his towering size and the wild beauty of his chiseled jaw and smattering of scars over his cheeks and brow.
“Oh… oh dear, I didn’t realize you had another customer. Oh my goodness I’ve been talking your ear off all this time and you’ve been too kind to say anything. You’re a godsend, Y/n. A godsend! I don’t know what I would do without you, although I should really be letting you go now.” She grabbed her things and sidestepped the range of Cassian’s wings, trying and failing now to gawk. “I’ll see you soon enough again I’m sure.”
“I’ll be here.” You sighed in relief when the doorbell rang behind her petite frame, the inoffensive smile you offered all your customers sliding off your face like oil on water. Cassian chuckled, dropping the box onto the countertop with a dull thud.
“Long day?”
You pulled out a stepstool and began rummaging around through the box, pulling out jars of squid ink, bark trimmings, buttons, and one particularly nasty jar containing a large eye suspended in yellow goo. “It’s not even three.”
“Did I stutter?”
You tapped the glass and the eye swiveled around to look at you, pupil enlarging and constricting with a stutter. “Yes, yes very good,” you muttered your praise and Cassian fought hard not to shiver. He had a stomach for a great many things, but some of the specimens you handled tested his resilience.
“Thank you for bringing all of this. You’ve saved me a great deal of trouble.”
“Perhaps you could do the same for me and tell me where my brother is? I’ve been looking for him all day.” Cassian leaned forward on the counter, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Are you holding him hostage, Y/n? Are you using your feminine powers to bring the poor male to his knees? I must admit, I didn’t imagine you as the kind capable of kidnapping. Or shadow-napping, shall we say?”
You rolled your eyes. “I’m hardly holding him hostage.” You gestured down the hallway past the bookshelves and the cases of empty glassware where the light from the staircase glowed like an iron eye. “He’s upstairs sleeping.”
Cassian furrowed his brows, stepping around and past you. He kept his wings tucked closer to his shoulder blades, careful not to upset the cramped organization you maintained in your shop.
He smirked. “Still? Are you sure you didn't work your feminine powers last night?”
You glanced out the store window. A few fae lingered outside the coffee shop across the street clutching takeaway boxes against their chest as they chatted and sipped their drinks. The street was otherwise empty. For now, you wouldn’t have to deal with any customers.
You looked back at Cassian. “I actually wanted to ask you about that.”
His brows furrowed. “About feminine powers?” He'd meant that as a joke.
“Gods, Cassian let that go.” You wrung your hands. “I wanted to ask if Azriel was alright? Has he seemed… normal to you?”
“I don’t know, has he?” Cassian lowered his voice, sinking into one of the stools by the clear glass medicine cabinet. “From what I can tell he seems well. Happy.”
Although happy was an understatement. Ever since you’d stumbled into their lives with Madja’s accolades and your wry humor, Azriel had been a goner. You’d pulled emotions from him as deftly as a spinster with a pile of wool, reduced him to a reverential, lovesick mess, and imbued his existence with a color not even Feyre could mix up. Which made it all the more confusing why you looked so nervous.
“You’ve seen more of him than I have, Y/n.” Cassian said. He braced his elbows against his knees, turning serious. The faint bags under his hazel eyes hinted at sleepless nights spent fussing over Neera. It was their fault really, any daughter of Nesta and Cassian was destined to be restless and particular.
“He just… he’s been sleeping more. Falling into bed early, but waking up late. Sometimes we’ll be reading together or just existing side by side and when I turn to face him, he’s dead asleep on the couch.”
Cassian’s lips twitched, slowly stretching into a smile. You plucked a hemp bag off one of the wall shelves at random, tossing its contents into a mortar and beginning to grind just so you could have something to do with your hands.
“At first I brushed it off, but it’s gotten to a point where I’ll be talking to him — mindless things, but regardless — and I’ll catch him dozing off. He’s always very apologetic after but I…” The mortar and pestle clattered to a stop. “I worry that he’s growing bored of me. Or that he’s sick in a way I can’t help.”
“Y/n.” There was a smile in Cassian’s voice, and indeed when you looked at him, his teeth were glistening in the soft afternoon haze. His eyes shined knowingly, as if the answer were obvious.
You paused. “Yes?”
“He feels safe with you.”
You blinked once. Twice.
“Pardon?”
Cassian tipped back in his seat, knocking his head against the cabinet with a rattle of jars and glass as he laughed. “He’s sleeping so much because he feels safe with you. It’s probably why he prefers to spend time here instead of at the townhouse and why he’s still dead asleep while we’re sitting here gossiping about him. Three years ago you couldn’t even whisper his name in a crowded room without him appearing from the shadows as if summoned.”
You felt heat rise in your cheeks. “Oh... I see.”
Cassian was grinning. “Y/n, I promise you he’s not bored of you. Azriel sleeping is a good thing. The gods know he could use more rest. I think he might be the worst of us when it comes to taking care of ourselves.”
Something about Cassian’s words had a crack splintering in your chest. You knew about his past. You knew of the horrors burned into the ruined skin of his hands and the weight his duties deposited on his shoulders.
And here you’d been worried over him sleeping past noon.
Shadows slipped down the stairs, pooling around your feet in a neat circle and kissing the exposed skin of your ankles. Azriel followed closely behind, still wearing his rumpled hair and pants and a shirt he’d hastily shoved his neck and arms into. He hadn’t even buttoned up the slits below his wings, opting to let the fabric swing free and loose and expose flashes of skin as he walked.
He jutted his chin out in acknowledgement of Cassian and then folded himself over your back, wrapping his arms tightly around your waist and dropping his face into the crook of your neck where he breathed in the scent of lemon and lavender and medicine.
“You weren’t there when I woke up,” he said, frowning. There was a slur to his words.
“It’s past three, brother.”
Azriel snapped his head up in surprise, squinting at the window and the afternoon sunlight streaking in. The pale cobblestones shone like they’d been drenched in honey.
“What?”
Cassian rolled his eyes, patting Azriel’s back fondly and mussing up your hair before walking towards the door. He flipped the sign from “You’ve caught us! We’re open!” to “Much apologies, please try another time.”
“Goodnight, you two!" He called from over his back. "Remember we’re meeting at Rhys’s for dinner tonight.” He turned, bracing his arms against the top of the doorway and leaning forward like he meant to share a secret. “8pm sharp. Don’t be too late or we’ll get the wrong idea about what you two are up to.” He winked, then whistled down the street, letting the door close on its own behind him.
Azriel sighed, going back to nuzzling his face in your neck. He peppered the sensitive skin there with kisses.
“Will you be coming back upstairs then?” He murmured hopefully. "Now that you're finished with work?"
You bit your lip and decided rather quickly that the world would not end because you closed a few hours early.
You led him up the stairs, past the kitchen and living room on the second floor, and then up to the third floor — your bedroom. The window was still open, the hustle and bustle of the city and the smell of coffee from across the street wafting in. Steam no longer poured from the lip of the teapot, so you knew Azriel had had something to drink, and where you’d left toast on his plate this morning lay only crumbs.
Azriel dropped to his knees, untying your laces and helping you out of your boots. Then he straightened and tugged at the belt loops of your trousers, silently asking for permission before unbuttoning them and sliding them off your legs. Your shirt, then his shirt, and then his trousers joined the pile of crumpled clothing on the floor.
He gently pushed you back onto the bed, falling face first after you with a sigh. This was his favorite position to sleep in — you comfortable on your back and him laying with his hips slotted in between your legs and his head resting over your heart.
You sank your fingers into his velvety, black hair. His hums of satisfaction flowed through your body, lighting every nerve with a comforting buzz.
“Azriel?” You asked him, before sleep could finally claim him once more.
“Hmmm?”
“Do you feel safe with me?”
He pressed his face further into the soft flesh of your chest, bringing his arms up and around your waist before allowing his wings to do the same. The thin membranes glowed red as hot coals, blocking out the most offensive rays of light from outside.
“When I am with you, I forget that I was ever that boy whose hands got burned. When I am with you, the hundreds of years I spent feeling alone and worthless in this world melt away into nothing. When I am with you — when I am in this place that smells and feels so strongly of you — I can imagine a future that is good and pure and perfect.” He sighed deeply, seemingly ignorant to the pounding of your heart and the waves of feeling flooding your system. “So yes, my love — my Y/n — I do feel safe with you.”
“I feel safe with you too,” you murmured. “I love you, Azriel.”
You kissed the crown of his head, earning one last smile and a slurred, “I love you, Y/n,” before his jaw went slack and the room went silent save for the mixing of your breaths and the stirring of shadows.
#azriel x reader#azriel x you#azriel x y/n#fluff#azriel fluff#azriel shadowsinger#acotar fanfiction#sleepy azriel is the best azriel#i swear i just need a man who wants to sleep with me all hours of the day and is a living furnace#is that too much to ask?
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Body butter looks so deliciously, toe curling, bone crippling, ear shatteringly good. I want to consume it......................................................................................................................................................................................But y'all aren't ready to have that conversation...
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sylus x fem reader
PORCELAIN DOLL
synopsis: sylus takes your virginity and plans to make it the best you’ve had. warnings: unprotected intercourse, cream pie, vulgarity, swearing, loss of virginity, f receiving wc: 3k
[minors don’t interact. by interacting with this post you are consenting to view something that is not appropriate, despite warnings]
You were his doll, his porcelain doll.
Beautiful and flawless, innocent and delicate. You were Sylus’ doll. However, you were something he never wanted to break, too fragile. Taking your virginity would’ve meant corrupting and breaking you, but god did he want you…
You and Sylus have been together for a few months now, nearly 8, and never have been sexually intimate. You’ve kissed, made out, ground against each other, and all of that, but never had sex. It was something you were afraid of and something he was afraid of. You were a virgin, and he didn’t want to corrupt you, to ruin you.
You were in the kitchen, popping popcorn for a movie, when he came up behind you. Sylus’ arms wrap around you and he leans down to press a kiss on your neck. “You’ve been in here too long, doll.”
You smile and lean against him while popcorn pops in the popcorn machine. “This is taking a while… Maybe like a minute more?” You look up at him and see his red eyes staring into your own eyes.
“Mmm, okay. I’ll wait with you.” Sylus kisses your forehead and rubs your stomach gently, as he always did. The popcorn finishes popping and you open the glass doors; he unwraps from you and grabs a bowl, handing it to you.
“Thank you, baby.” You smile, and he kisses your head once again. Grabbing the scooper, you scoop the popcorn into the bowl, Sylus grabs some butter seasoning and salt for you. He shakes some of it in the bowl and you mix it up.
“We’re a good team doll…” He gives you a soft smile and takes the bowl from you, leading you back to the living room couch. Setting the bowl onto the table, he sits you in his lap and hits play on the movie; his arms immediately wrap back around you as you reach for some popcorn.
You guys were watching a romance movie, your favorite genre. Sylus didn’t mind; he’d do anything you asked, so he sat through every request you had.
A love scene of the couple comes up and you feel his arms tighten around you. “You know, Sy?” you whisper and he looks down at you.
“Yeah, baby?” He whispers back and kisses your neck softly.
“I think I’m ready…” You lean back against his chest and look up at him. His eyes widen and he lifts an eyebrow before looking at the screen.
“For you…” You continue and he nods.
“You sure doll? I don’t want to hurt you or anything baby…” Sylus’ rough hands rub your stomach before he reaches and takes some popcorn.
You laugh as he stuffs his face; “Yes, I’m sure. We’ve gotta do it someday.”
He swallows and chuckles, “Sweetie, you know how bad I want you, but if it’s truly something you don’t want to do… I wouldn’t mind dying without having you. You’re so important to me, and you know I’d put you first.” Sylus’ eyes drag over your face. The beauty of you shining at him like the rays of the sun, something he’d never get tired of.
“Scared I’ll hurt you.” He sighs and nuzzles his face in your neck.
“Sy…” You sigh and place your hand on his that’s resting on your stomach.
He lets out a soft hum as you place your hand on his. His lips continue to pepper your neck with kisses, nibbling and sucking at your skin, marking you as his.
Sylus’ heart was pounding. You were ready to give your first time to him. Understanding: Knowing the moment’s importance, he vowed to make it gentle and perfect for you. He picked you up, holding you easily and cradling you in his muscular arms. He carried you into the bedroom and set you down on the bed, his eyes roaming over your body with a mixture of desire and care.
You feel nervous as he stands near the bed; he senses it and moves on top of you. Hovering over you, Sylus presses gentle kisses to your neck, speaking in a low, soothing voice.
“Relax, doll, just breathe. I’ll take good care of you, I promise.” He whispered against your skin, and you relax a bit. When he saw your body relaxing beneath him, his touch became even gentler.
His lips continued to roam your neck and collarbone, leaving behind a trail of feathery kisses. His warm breath ghosted against your skin as his hands explored your body, slowly undressing you.
With care, he caressed and touched you, his eyes locked on your face, watching for any signs of discomfort. He spoke against the sensitive skin of your neck, his voice a deep, gravelly whisper that sent shivers down your spine.
“So pretty…” Sylus whispered as he pulled your top off. His fingers run along your bra, pulling the straps down.
He lifted your back gently and unclasped your bra, throwing it somewhere in the room. You lay back down and he nods, “Good girl.”
His mouth found its way to one of your exposed breasts, his lips gently sucking and licking the sensitive flesh. He could feel you shudder beneath him, and he whispered in a soothing tone, his voice rough and low.
“Shhh, it’s alright, doll. Just let me make you feel good... Let me pleasure you and take care of your every need. I won’t push you too far, I promise...”
His kisses and licks continued, moving to your other breast while his hands roamed the curves of your waist. You let out quiet moans and arch up towards him. This extra pleasure overwhelms you before he suddenly pulls away.
“Ever touched yourself baby?” He looks down at you with a curious expression and you gulp.
“I uh... I’ve tried.” You whisper, feeling a bit embarrassed at the directness of the question.
Sylus’ heart fluttered as he heard your nervous answer. He chuckled softly, his hand trailing up your stomach and stopping at your chin, tilting it up to look at him. His gaze darkened with desire as he spoke in a husky, low voice.
“You’ve tried, doll?”
Softly, he positioned his knee between your legs, easing them apart slowly; his touch remained gentle and careful. He wanted to take it slow, despite how much his own body was aching to continue. He wanted to hear your answer first.
“Yeah… I was never successful or good at it. It felt weird, Sy.” You whisper, feeling a bit embarrassed at the directness.
Sylus smiles down at you softly, before pressing his knee further and closer to your clothed core. “It’s alright baby… What if I were to help you? Would you let me show you the right way to do it?” He runs a hand down your exposed torso.
You nod and gulp; he nods back before moving his hand down between your legs. Rubbing slow and circular motions over where you need him most.
“Sy…” you whine and close your eyes.
Sylus chuckled softly as soon as he saw your reaction. Your soft whines were like sweet music to his ears, and it only fueled his desire. He continued to rub you, his fingers moving with slow, deliberate motions. He continues to tease you with a smirk on his face.
“That’s right, doll, just make pretty noises for me…let me hear how good it feels…”
Chills course your body at how good his touch feels, a feeling you could never make yourself experience.
Sylus could see the shiver that wracked your body, and he smirked in satisfaction. He knew you were feeling new sensations that you had never experienced before, and he had every intention of showing you how good it could feel to let another person take control.
“Shh, doll...” He increased the pressure and speed of his touch, rubbing you through the fabric of your panties.
“Take them off please Sy…” You beg and he leans down, cutting you off with a kiss, his fingers stilling. His lips taste of vanilla chapstick, the same one you use and you smile against his lips.
“Bought my chapstick hm?” You whisper against his soft lips, and he chuckles as he pulls away.
“Wanted to always taste like you. Now let’s take these off…”
Sylus slowly tugged down your panties, sliding them down your legs and discarding them on the floor, not caring where they landed.
He leaned back to get a good look at your body, his eyes roaming over your bare flesh with a hungry stare. His breath hitched in his chest, and he spoke in a low, primal voice, his hands tracing the curves and edges of your body.*
“Goddamn, you look so goddamn pretty just like this…” He shakes his head as he leans down and kisses your pelvic bone. You wince at the sudden contact, not used to the feeling of anyone’s lips on your body like that.
Sylus smirked as he saw you gasp and wince when his lips connected with your pelvic bone. He knew it was sensitive, and he loved seeing how your body responded to his touch.
“Tsk, doll, so sensitive aren’t you…”
He continued his trail of kisses, moving lower and lower, his mouth leaving behind a trail of wetness on your skin. His tongue licked and teased along your skin, and when he finally reached your core, he paused, his eyes flickering up to look at your flushed face.
“God, you’re so damn perfect…”
He didn’t wait for a response, his mouth immediately connecting with your sensitive bud, his tongue licking and sucking in a slow, sensual rhythm, groaning against you.
Your sounds fill his ears and his eyes roll back while he pleases you. He continued his ministrations, his lips and tongue moving in a steady rhythm. He could hear your soft gasps and whimpers, and he was determined to make you feel even more.
“Mmm, doll…you taste so sweet…like candy.”
Sylus then inserted a finger into you, gently sliding in and out, slowly, his touch still gentle, but it was getting less and less soft as his arousal grew.
You let out a loud moan and arch against him. Sylus couldn’t help but let out a deep, satisfied hum against your core when that moan escaped your lips. It was so damn sweet, and the way you arched your body against him made his own ache and throb.
“That’s it baby…moan for me…” His deep voice vibrates through your body.
Sylus continued his ministrations, his finger sliding in deeper and curling against your sensitive walls, his tongue never ceasing its assault on your clit.
“Sylus, I need you…” you whine and run a hand through his silver hair.
He chuckled in satisfaction; rough and dark against your core. His tongue still moving and circling at a skilled and steady pace, he responded in a low tone.
“Mhm, you need me, doll? Need me to make you feel good? Need me to make you cum?”
He then added another finger, sliding it in and out slowly, stretching you gently, his own body aching to give you more. After a few moments you finally speak up.
“Sy… No, I need you instead.” You whisper, and a soft groan rumbles in his chest as he hears your words.
He knew what you were asking for, and he knew he was no longer in control of his own desires.
“Mm, you want me to fill you up instead, huh?“
Sylus spoke in a low, guttural whisper as he pulled away from your core, his fingers slowly sliding out of you with a soft, wet sound.
He moves up your body and leans down to whisper, his hand spreading your thighs further.
“Say you want me, baby.” Sylus smiles against your neck, knowing you won’t be able to exist.
“I want you Sylus.” You whisper and he practically breaks; he moves away and quickly strips off his clothes. His tan bare body is on display and you gasp as your eyes land on his length.
He knows what your look is for and he chuckles, “We’ll make it fit baby, trust me.”
He was practically aching for you; not only was he teasing you, but he was teasing himself, he was dripping. All he wanted was to be inside of you, to finally go home.
Sylus lays back down and hovers above you, grinding himself against your core, gathering the slickness.
“I’ll treat you so good… I’ll go slow, okay? If it hurts, squeeze my hand…” He whispers and kisses you gently. You nod and he kisses you once more before positioning himself at your entrance.
Sylus slowly, carefully slid his way inside of you. The stretch you feel causes your eyes to water; he was so big, and it was a tight fit. You can’t help but let out a quiet whine.
“F-fuck, you feel so damn good…” He whispers and fully sheaths himself inside of you, his tip kissing your cervix. You squeeze his hand because of the pain, and he stills immediately.
Sylus grits his teeth, every inch of him screaming to just take you, but he keeps himself in check. He had promised to be gentle, to take it slow, to make your first time good, and he intended to keep his promise.
“S-s-sweetie, are you alright?” He whispers and lets out a groan as you loosen a bit, allowing him to move. He pulls back slowly and pushes back in, your walls fluttering around him, driving him mad.
“Can I?” He leans down and whispers as he kisses your neck.
“Mhm…” You moan and drag your nails up his back, earning a groan from him. He picks up his thrusts, burying himself deep inside you.
Your moans mix with his and fill the room; echoing off the walls, a pleasure you’ve never felt.
His movements were slow and measured. He continued to watch your face, monitoring your expressions, looking for any discomfort.
“You alright, baby?” Sylus spoke in a low, gentle tone, his body still sliding. He catches your nod and smiles before growing his pace.
He could feel you stretching around him, adapting to his size, and it was taking all of his restraint to control himself.
“God, doll, you’re so tight. So perfect. You feel so damn good around me.”
He kept going, increasing the speed and force of his movements, but still being careful to watch your face, to make sure he wasn’t going overboard.
You pull him down to kiss you, and he immediately complies, continuing his pace. His tongue slides into your mouth and dances along your own.
Sylus continued the kiss, his tongue moving against yours, his hands roaming your body, caressing and squeezing. The feeling of being inside you, the taste of your mouth, was all driving him crazy, but he was doing his best to keep himself in check, to keep the pace from becoming too rough.
“Mmm, doll. You taste so damn good. You’re making me crazy. So perfect, so goddamn beautiful.” He mumbles against your lips and you moan quietly.
“Faster…” you whisper and his heart immediately picks up, as well as his thrusts. The words he was waiting to hear. He chuckled at your words, the sound low and almost dangerous.
“Mhm, that’s a good girl. That’s exactly what I wanted to hear. You’re doing so well, you’re taking me so damn well...”
He increased the pace again, his movements harder and more powerful now, but still carefully measured, still holding himself back a little.
You notice his hesitation and you chuckle, “Don’t hold back Sy… Make me yours.”
Sylus could feel his restraint snap like a rubber band stretched too far. Hearing you tell him not to hold back did something to him, and he let out a deep, guttural growl.
“You’re going to be the death of me, doll...”
He follows your orders and fucks you harder and deeper. A bulge forms in your stomach and he watches it with a grin, the bed creaking with each thrust.
“Mmm, so pretty…” He presses down on your lower stomach where his cock is and you moan. The pressure of his hand and his thrusts send you overboard.
Sylus groans, before running a hand up and squeezing your breast that’s bouncing with every one of his thrusts.
“Taking me so good, aren’t you? Made for me…” He whispers and continues to fuck you into oblivion.
Sylus could feel it building, the tension building up inside him, the heat pooling in his stomach, and so could you.
“I’m so close, doll. So damn close. You’re doing so well, taking me so good, gonna fill you up...” He mumbles out a string of words and curses as your walls tighten around him.
“Sy…” you whisper and he nods, understanding what you mean.
“I know baby, cum with me.” He leans down and kisses your neck, leaving hickeys so everyone can see what’s his. His hand reaches down to rub your clit in time with his thrusts, circling it with the perfect amount of pressure to send you over the edge.
“I…” That is all you get out before your body arches up towards Sylus, finishing on his cock.
He groans and nearly collapses; the squeeze of your walls allows him to finish with you. He lets out low, pretty moans as he fills your womb with his cum, painting your walls white.
He slows his thrusts as his cum slowly comes to a stop, the two of you panting. He slowly lifts himself, remaining seated inside of you, and he kisses your forehead before kissing your lips.
A tender and slow kiss, showing how much he loves you, how much he desires you, and how grateful he is.
“I love you Y/N… Thank you.” Sylus mutters before kissing you once more. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
You giggle and shake your head. “No, just a little sore…”
He chuckles lowly and slowly pulls out of you with a wet pop. The mixture of your essence pools down onto the bed, and he smirks.
“You did so good, sweetie…” He runs a finger along your folds, collecting the wetness onto his digit.
“Taste.” He lifts the finger to your lips and you suck it clean, a quiet moan escaping your lips. His softening cock twitches at the sight, but he ignores it and nods.
“Good girl… Now let’s get you cleaned up.” He smiles and gets off the bed, grabbing a tissue and wiping you quickly.
He throws it away before pulling you to your feet to take a bath.
“Come on, baby…” He smiles and leads you to the bathroom to ease your sore muscles. “Maybe we can go for another round.”
#lads x reader#lads smut#lads sylus#love and deepspace#love and deepspace sylus#l&ds#l&ds sylus#lads#smut#sylus#sylus qin#qin che#sylus smut#sylus x reader#lnds sylus#sylus love and deepspace#lads mc#sylus x mc
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RODEO STATION, 1 — MEGUMI FUSHIGURO
A collection of you and Megumi, through the years, through Gojo’s eyes.
content, warnings: friends to lovers, fluff, sort of canon-adjacent, satoru adopts megumi and tsumiki, reader has a cursed technique but it’s not mentioned in depth here, really just you and megumi falling in love and gojo watching
word count: 1.1k
part i: first years, jujutsu tech. fits in the timeline around when nobara first joins the class
When Satoru first finds him, Megumi has two conditions. First, that Tsumiki would be kept safe and happy, and far away from the Zenin clan if they weren’t going to be good to her—safe and far away from all jujutsu society if Gojo could help it; and that she would never have to worry about feeding herself or Megumi ever again. Satoru agreed right away, he would have done that without the request.
For his second condition, an eight year old Megumi looked Satoru straight in the eye and told him that he would absolutely not be separated from you. Satoru thought it was cute, sweet, in the bratty, and naive but determined kind of way that seemed to be everything that kid stood for, and Satoru couldn’t fault him for it. Megumi’s evident childlike adoration of you aside, Satoru saw potential in you, too, so he accepted Megumi’s conditions, happy to welcome the two of you to the world of sorcery.
It’s not until a week before you both start at Jujutsu Tech, that Satoru really asks Megumi why he wants you here (never mind the fact that you had already also made up your mind about being a sorcerer, and if there is anything that Satoru has learned about you in the past decade, it’s that: one, you have the magical ability to make Megumi do anything you say; and two, you’re incredible persuasive and very stubborn). Megumi doesn’t look him in the eye when he answers, fidgeting with his melting ice cream instead when he says, “Well, she saved my life.”
Satoru doesn’t tease when he hears this, only digging his spoon in for a scoop of Megumi’s toffee butter, smiling to himself when the cold hits his tongue, because he’d heard the message loud and clear: Megumi believes he owes you his life, and to keep yours protected, he wants you by his side.
Satoru quickly learns that Megumi truly has his work cut out for him as he watches you burst through a top-floor window of a high-rise building, falling carelessly with the object of your mission—a special-grade cursed object—clutched in your grasp. Second later, there’s a loud explosion, as the ugly head of a large cursed falls limp in the hole in the broken glass that you’d left behind. Satoru chuckles when he sees you smile, and the faint cheer of weeeeeeeee as you fall. He knew you were wild and stubborn by the way you bossed Megumi around without a care, but seeing you in action proved that you were also in your own league of crazy, a fantastic sorceress in the making.
To his left, Yuuji gapes wildly as he looks up, shielding his eyes with his hand, and then flinching back when Nobara bursts through the ground floor door, not without a nail going flying into the curse that had been chasing her. She looks angry, then wide eyed, then up to where Yuuji and Megumi were also staring and starts squealing alongside him.
“Gojo-sensei, what are you standing there smiling about—do something!” Nobara shouts, pointing an accusatory finger up in the air at your flying body.
Yuuji gasps again, like he’d just figured out the consequence of you falling from a building, spewing on his own cries, “Hey, seriously, what the hell are we doing—she can’t fly,” he shouts, turning to shake his sensei, then pausing, “Wait, Fushiguro, can she fly? You know her.”
“Idiot,” Nobara spits, “If she could fly then she’d be flying, not falling.”
“Then why aren’t we doing any—you know what, I think I can catch her,” Yuuji boasts, rolling up his sleeves, prepared to position himself underneath your descending body, and that’s when Satoru steps in, extending an arm in front of his students.
“You all worry too much,” he smiles, lifting his blindfold just enough to look the pair in the eye, and tilt his head up slightly, “Besides, Megumi’s handled it.”
Three heads turn back up to the sky, where you’re no longer in freefall, instead have had your shoulders snatched by Nue’s talons. You’ve still got that wild smile on your face, wider now as you descend much more elegantly via Megumi’s shikigami. Nobara and Yuuji wince as Nue’s wings flap widely when you’re set on the ground. You shift the box with the cursed object to one hand, reaching your free one around to pet the bird’s feathers. It crows happily, and Satoru snickers, much to Megumi’s dismay. You always did treat his shikigami like pets.
“Hey, you’re okay!” Yuuji cheers, eyes sparkling, “What’s in the box? A sword—actually, I don’t want to know. If it’s another finger, keep it away from me.”
“Hand it here,” Nobara demands. You’re happy to hand over the box and have another hand available for petting Nue.
Satoru watches fondly as Yuuji and Nobara fuss over the box. They should probably exercise more caution, but he’s there, so the worst can’t happen. Meanwhile, you step closer to Megumi with Nue fluttering behind you.
“You’re the one who told me there would be no need to get involved,” Megumi says, voice soft, hands falling comfortably at his side.
“I said that you wouldn’t have to get involved with the curses,” you correct, standing on your tiptoes to nuzzles your head into the bird’s feathers, “I said nothing about not getting involved with me.”
Satoru does his best not to choke out a loud laugh as Megumi’s face becomes increasingly pink when you reach forward to pinch his cheeks, his grumbling drowned in the sound of Yuuji and Nobara’s bickering. Satory sighs, content. He cares for all his students, but there’s a certain weight lifted on his shoulders knowing that when it came to you, there was truly nothing to worry about—Megumi would always be there for you. Honestly, he thinks Megumi might fight him to protect you if it came down to it.
That thought does bring an audible chuckle to his lips, Megumi’s pinched expression calling to him, “What are you laughing about?”
To which Satoru only hums, sticking his hands in his pockets. Megumi’s eyebrows furrow deeper, but it’s quickly dissolved when you catch his attention again, saying your farewells to Nue before giving Megumi the okay to let him recede into his shadows.
“Oh, nothing,” Satoru chirps, turning to lead the group back to Ichiji’s car, “Come on, who’s still up for revolving sushi!”
Cheers follow him as the veil dispels. You question Yuuji about whether or not you think the restaurant will have grilled eel, and Nobara pretends to throw up, arguing that eel is the worst, that you all should stick to hand rolls instead. Megumi stays quiet, walking on your outside, and humming along with all of your suggestions, and Satoru can’t help but wonder whether or not you knew that Nue had been out from the moment you’d stepped in the building.
Honestly, he thinks Megumi might win that fight—might win any fight if it meant being with you.
#jjk x reader#jjk fluff#jjk smut#jjk imagines#megumi x reader#megumi fushiguro#megumi smut#megumi fluff#jjk scenarios#jujutsu kaisen fluff#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen smut#gojo satoru#megumi fushiguro x reader#this isn't a gojo x reader thing but he thinks very very fondly of you and megumi :((#jjk smau#jjk drabbles#jjk headcanons#jjk fanfic
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˖ ࣪ ، ◞ せ⌇ SWEET TALK. featuring choso.
↻ choso lives for one thing ; to make sure his precious girlfriend is never unsatisfied.
tags : cunniligus, dirty talk, body worship, male masturbation, overstimulation, squirting, fingering, mentions of face sitting, feral choso // wc. 0.7k
author's note : i lowkey wanna thank @toadtoru for sending in an ask about this before i even posted it, because i used some of those ideas to improve on this :3 in true homage to my username choso is a complete slut in this lolsies ;) one more to go and this event is finished, thanks for sticking around for THIS long i love everyone here >o<
this work is NSFW. minors and ageless blogs DO NOT INTERACT.
if there’s one thing CHOSO firmly believes in, it’s that you aren’t just his girlfriend, but some supreme deity from heaven above. it sounds completely ridiculous, but he believes it more than anything, especially in moments like this.
you just look so beautiful above him on the couch, thighs parted slightly and fingers caressing the sensitive mound in between your legs, head tipped back and lips parted in a silent ‘o’ as your toes curl into the carpet. angelic, he thinks, and he can’t wait to receive permission to touch you.
“choso…” your voice is smooth like butter yet sweet like caramel, and choso can feel his cock begin to press up against his slacks. “c’mere.”
yes. that’s all he needs before he’s eagerly crawling in between your legs to lap at your cunt, fingers digging into the fat of your thighs as he pulls them apart in earnest. “shit… missed me, did she?” his rambles are fueled by pure lust and delusion, and as he eats you out, choso begins to talk into your cunt. “missed her too… poor baby can’t go too long without her sweet boyfriend, huh…”
fingers tangle in his dark locks as you pull him closer, effectively muffling his ramblings by grinding your lower half on his tongue. the way he eats you out is feverish, his wet muscle alternating between your inflamed clit and pulsing hole interchangeably. and choso can’t help himself from getting fired up by your lewd display too, his own hips grinding down onto the couch as he finds solace in between your legs.
you, on the other hand, are positively reeling, legs twitching uncontrollably as choso continues to make a mess of your poor cunt. you wish you could return to him the same pleasure tenfold, but all you can do is sit and take it, helpless to his ministrations. “cho, cho, ‘s too much, baby, s-slow down…”
begging is futile. choso is hypnotised, his own eyes rolling into the back of his head in an immediate reflection of your own reaction. “sorry baby, can’t, you taste s’good, don’t wanna…”
neither of you are in your right mind, but choso especially. when you cry out from orgasm for the first time, he barely takes note, his tongue on your clit never letting up as he brings two fingers to the entrance of your weeping cunt. the other hand previously on your thigh is now shoved into his boxers, and he’s fisting himself just as quickly as his fingers begin to plow your pussy.
he’s killing you, but you love it. his brown eyes peek up in between your legs, and you just catch his expression, pupils dilated with lust as he watches you twitch above him. he mumbles something onto your clit before he’s licking and kissing it again, and you begin to think you might actually die.
“c’mon, baby,” he groans, hips thrusting forward into his palm as he continues to eat. “c’mon baby, gimme another one– fuck, please, please…”
“choso, i can’t…” you truly believe that, given the way he’s already on his way to giving you another orgasm in the short span of five minutes. but he needs it so bad, needs you to cum for him so bad that he speeds up, thumb now joining his tongue to stimulate your clit in unison. “choso!”
“that’s it, baby, that’s it, oh, she’s close, isn’t she?” you can barely believe that he’s treating your pussy like its own person, but fuck is it turning you on. you hiccup pitiful whimpers as your thighs begin to tremble again, knees closing inwards and trapping choso’s head in between your legs.
if he were to die in this position, he wouldn’t mind. your release sprays his lips in repeated spurts, juices dribbling down his chin and some even dripping onto the flared head of his cock. it’s that which tips choso over the edge, and he’s spurting ropes onto the carpet, his own eyes finding the back of his head rapidly as his nose jerks against your clit.
“baby…” he stares down at the mess he’s made on the floor and then back at you, who’s laying spread eagle on the couch, chest rapidly rising and falling. “you gotta sit on my face next time.”
PREVIOUS : SURVIVAL ft. sniper mask NEXT : INKED ft. suguru geto
liked that? check out the WE’RE SO BACK main masterlist.
© choslut 2024 — do not copy, repost or translate my works without permission.
#jujutsu kaisen#choso kamo#choso#jujutsu kaisen x reader#choso x reader#choso kamo x reader#jujutsu kaisen smut#choso smut#choso kamo smut
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doll hand-book⋆.ೃ࿔*:・🎀
how to feel prettier, some visual interest tips, a beauty handbook and how to glow up without doing something big/extra, little habits and things that u can incorporate into ur life to make u glow up without even thinking about it ✨ (constantly being updated)
double cleansing every morning and night for clean and sparkling skin
BODY GLITTER
exfoliate ur skin weekly (2-3x)
incorporate pretty words into ur vocabulary
drinking enough water everyday to be healthy and beautiful
sweet smelling body butters and body oils to moisturize
posture is important so sit straight and stand straight
wear sunscreen on your face and body everyday bcuz spf is important
jewelry to decorate ur body
carrying lipglosses and hand lotions and perfumes in ur bag for touch ups throughout the day
meditate, say ur affirmations and journal for a pretty mind
for journaling, buy a cute journal and journal with scented glitter pens and stickers
for visual interest
glitter is very feminine, in makeup, clothing, nails, and on collarbones. when i wear glitter on my skin i feel like a fairy ✨
jewelry makes u glitter (nose studs, stacked necklaces and stacked earrings, rings, belly piercings, and nail gems)
know what ur undertone is, since i have a warm undertone (gold>silver)
LONG is the way to go (long nails, lashes, hair, flowy dresses and tops and skirts)
for the sleek and shiny look (shiny and silky hair, glossy skin and lips)
glowing up subconsciously
prioritize sleep (sleep 8-10 hours a night)
drink at least 1L of water a day
eat a fruit or veggie with every meal to glow from the inside out
use coconut oil/castor oil on ur lashes and brows every night
facial massage everyday and practice mewing
move your body in a way that feels natural (for example, i go to a school where we have to walk a lot bcuz the campus is big so subconsciously i do LOTS of walking without even thinking of it)
if ur wearing ur hair up/in a protective style, use a hair mask
to look polished and put together
chapped lips are unacceptable, use an overnight lip mask and a hydrating chapstick throughout the day. if u notice ur lips just peeling in general, use an exfoliating scrub/brush ur lips with a toothbrush.
neat hair = a polished look
keep ur nails trimmed, filed, and polished and if u wanna do a little extra get them manicured
address skin concerns so that then you can get glossy skin
make sure all ur metals match and color coordinate
keep it simple
details make a difference
shape ur brows
whiten ur teeth + maintain good oral health
color coordinate
fixing posture
HELPFUL RESOURCES
how to smell dreamy - @flirtygirl-coterie
feminine archetypes - @prissygrlsorority
beauty binder - @prissygrlsorority
maintaining a clean and fresh appearance - by yours truly
makeup tutorial in pics - by yours truly
"your glowing" - by yours truly
general hygiene secrets and tricks - by yours truly
#it girl#advice#becoming that girl#self care#self love#that girl#it girl energy#honeytonedhottie⭐️#resources💬🎀#glow up#pink pilates princess#dream girl tips#dream girl#diva#divalicious#princess#dolly#girlhood#girly#girl blogging#girl blogger#glowing effect#beauty tips#beauty
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Jason cannot say “I love you” with a straight face. He always smiles, always. Serious situation or not, his teeth will show and his eyes will crinkle.
The first time he said it though, he was afraid. His palms felt clammy and his heart thumped hard against his rib cage. He was happy, but nervous nonetheless.
He stared at your back as you took the freshly baked cookies out of the oven, the aroma coated your kitchen and eased some of Jason’s nerves. He let you put the baked goods on the cooling rack before pulling your body into his. You laughed at the sudden display of affection.
“What’s up, handsome,” you giggled into his chest, pulling him closer. His hands tangled themselves around your body and he hummed softly. He placed a gentle peck on the crown of your head and ran his fingers along your clothed skin.
You stayed there, enjoying each other’s embrace and then, he pulled away. You groaned at the sudden loss of warmth and he laughed while ruffling your hair.
“I have to tell you something,” he said, already struggling to keep a straight face.
“Oh, so that’s what it was. You’re tying to butter me up Todd, what did you do this time,” you asked him with faux suspicion. He chuckled, but it was not his normal laugh. It was deeper this time, like he truly meant it, like for the first time in along time, he was truly happy.
He didn’t tease you with suspense and said it outright.
“I love you,” he exclaimed, a little louder than he had hoped, but the anxiety had made it difficult to control his tone. Any normal person wouldn’t have noticed the nervousness in his sentence, but you weren’t any regular person. You knew Jason like the back of your hand. And so, without missing a beat, you cupped both his cheeks in your hands.
You placed a gentle peck against the tip of his nose and softly caressed his skin, your fingers danced at the side of his jaw. Your hands felt warm against his skin and he let himself melt into your touch.
You stared into his emerald eyes and then quietly whispered, “I love you too.” His eyes lit up and he took your words as a sign to pull you into a deep, yet passionate kiss.
You smiled against each other’s lips and he said it again. “I love you, so so so much.”
#when is it my turn#I need Jason so bad#gn!reader#jason todd#red hood#jason todd x reader#jason todd imagine#jason todd headcanon#red hood x reader#red hood imagine#red hood headcanon#batfam
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suguru geto is unbelievably captivating.
he catches your eye immediately – standing tall, he's got one hand on the subway pole to keep his balance. his hair is tucked into his hoodie with only a few strands left out to frame his face. you can only see his side profile but it's enough; a sharp, prominent jawline and a beautiful nose, thin eyebrows, a pierced lip and a pair of tired eyes. you feel bad for thinking it but the dark bags under them leave you no other option.
afternoon sun peeks from the windows behind him, successfully making the scene before you seem like a painting. the colors move; the shades of green flashing by as trees wave you goodbye, the different hues of the tired grays, of the big buildings taking up space as the base of the canvas. splashes of black and white and silver and beige are thrown into the mix, too. his slacks, his big headphones, his jewellery, his totebag. but what truly brings it all together, is his deep, dark maroon hoodie; there's a hint of purple in it aswell, and you just think it's one of the best colors you've ever seen. you figure the thought is a bit silly, but you can't get it out of your head.
something so comforting about it, something so warm and welcoming. something a little murky about it. you can't look away.
you forget about everybody else around you. for you, it's just him in this moment. a total stranger. you don't know him and you probably never will; a pang of hurt hits right under your ribs at the thought. you wonder what his name is, you wonder how his voice sounds. how warm his hands are, and what's his favourite color. no, he doesn't seem like the type to have a favourite color. childish. you'd have to ask about a favourite drink or a book perhaps instead. you're fine with that.
you can spot a few rings on his fingers, a silver watch and a bracelet or two peering from under his sleeve. his hands are pretty. they look good. you also think that you can see a tattoo sprouting from under the collar of his hoodie but the dark lines are blending in with the strands of his hair, so you can't be sure. you want to be sure.
your foot taps against the floor or the cart, your body itching to scoot a little closer to him. you want to see his whole face. you need to. fidgeting with your own fingers, you continue observing the man in front of you. he might step out every second now, you can't waste any more time.
his shoulder seem very broad, his posture almost immaculate. handsome – you think he looks very handsome. well put together. his clothes aren't wrinkled, there isn't a single hair or a speck of dust anywhere on them as far as you can see; the only things that betray his true state of being are his eyes.
purple. glued to the window in front of him, he watches... nothing. he seems a little out of it. he's not focused on the trees or the buildings, the people aside him. you think about what kind of music he might be listening to.
the subway doors open and you jolt, head turning around to look at the platform behind the glass. people stand and leave, and a few come in, leaving an open space for you to take on the bench you're currently sitting on. and you do take it.
there he is.
you can see his eyes a little better now. keen and sharp, he reminds you of a wolf. a malnourished one. the corners of his mouth are tilted down and he really does seem tired. but he's still utterly, utterly beautiful. his skin is almost perfect, his hair shiny and his lips a little glossy. but not too glossy though – no, he definitely uses something like shea butter. something that isn't too thick, something that doesn't smell or taste too strongly. it just seems right.
you've never been this captivated by a stranger before. it's weird. the effect this man has on you without ever even sparing you a glance. you think about asking for it. for a glance. for a second of his time. a fraction of it? anything. everything.
how would he greet you? would he be mad? would he think that you're bothering him? would he give you a smile? a scoff? an eyebrow raise? would he let you ask whatever your heart desires? or would he brush you off, never even removing his headphones when you try to speak to him? oh, it hurts. the blatantly fake heartbreak still hurts.
his trainers are clean - they're white with some accents on them. they match his hoodie. you wonder which he bought first. did he buy the other with the intent of wearing the two pieces together? you want to ask him. that's not his favourite color though, right? no, no – he wouldn't have one. this man reads books and watches movies that are mostly only shown at different festivals. you don't mind it.
films. foreign films. he knows names of the directors from the top of his head, he could probably name a few cinematographers, too. fancy. but that's not his main thing, definitely not. there's something missing, something you can't grasp with just your eyes. what is he passionate about? truly passionate. what does he pour his heart into? is that why he's exhausted? is he tired from loving something? is it starting to hurt now? is it overwhelming? does he want a break? does he want to rest? does he want to get away?
the sun finds your eye from behind his body, forcing you to tear your eyes from him. the cart stops again, the doors open. you try to rub out the slight burn, suddenly a bit frantical that you'll really lose him. you look up and—
he's not there.
he isn't there anymore.
people walk past you, plopping down beside you as you're still trying to find him. turning in your seat, you eye the station. maroon, maroon, maroon, maroon. c'mon, how fast does this man fucking walk?!
but he's just not there.
you think it's unbelievably unfair that it's the sun that made you lose him. isn't she supposed to be full of love? bullshit. with a huff, your shoulders slump and your eyes fall shut while sinking into the bench below you. the cart seems to rumble more now, the seat way more uncomfortable than it was a mere minute ago. you really are disappointed; in yourself and in the world. why didn't you get up? why didn't you speak to him? better to get a no than to drown in the million 'what if' questions in your head. stupid. you're stupid.
"hi."
as you listen to the voice recording of the station names, the very same ones you memorized years ago, you crack open your eyes. your own shoes stare back at you; they're dirtier than his were. you don't think too deeply about the comparison. sun dances on the ground before you, the various shapes entertaining your mind with the shadow play. but you don't stay for long; trailing up, you see the familiar paint and your heart skips a beat. white and maroon. black. maroon. silver.
purple.
#i miss him:(((#sugu#wtf mickey can write#geto x reader#geto suguru#geto suguru x reader#geto suguru x you#geto suguru drabble#geto suguru fluff#jjk geto#jjk x reader#jjk drabble#jjk fluff#jjk x you#geto x you#geto fluff#geto drabble#jujutsu kaisen#jujustsu kaisen x reader
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everybody loves my baby
an historical au | 1930's florist!reader x dilfgangster!rafe (minors dni)✶
tw: v!olence, sex
✶ gangster!rafe, who makes sure everyone knows that you're off limits. Whether it is by gently placing his hand on the back of your soft neck and slowly caressing it with his calloused knuckles, using one of his large fingers to softly trail down one of your arms while the both of you are sitting next to each other in a restaurant, putting his muscled arm around you like a mantle, giving you warmth and comfort, and even taking your hand in his to plant a kiss on the palm as he closes his eyes and sniffs to take in your scent without the care of what others might think of your intimacy. You were his and he was yours, and that was truly all that mattered.
✶ gangster!rafe, who would do anything to protect you. Literally. If anyone ever laid a hand on his pretty little florist, they'd have to go through him, and it certainly wouldn't end so jolly.
"You dared to touch my woman, hm. Well, not so confident now, are you."
he said in a low, menacing chuckle as he shook his head slowly, cornering the man before him in the lonely and dimly lit corridor behind the bar. He had gone to the washroom for just one minute- one minute without you in his plane on sight, and a man walked over to you and started complimenting you before giving you a rose. That wasn't the problem though. When you thanked him kindly and smelled the rose, he pulled his arm up to brush a strand out of your face. And so, he had to take the matter to his own hands.
"Now now, i'm sure you're a good fella and understand that it was just a minor misunderstanding!"
the man quickly said in a pleading tone, obvious fear in his wide eyes, which were easily comparable to a frightened doe's, before proceeding to pat Rafe's shoulder with one of his shaking hands- almost as if they were old friends. Rafe shook his hand away in a swift motion, as if he had just been touched by a rat who had come out off a trash can. He punched the man on his ribcafe after his fake of a charming smile vanished and turned into a dark frown as if he was no longer who he was before. His other hand reached to the other's mouth as the man made muffled yowls of pain. He, however, didn't even flinch once.
"You're damn lucky i'm a generous man, so make sure to take this as a lesson for the future, yes? to keep your hands to yourself? wouldn't want to cut all your fingers off and make a mess on my shirt."
he then smirked almost playfully, his expression once again changing in a matter of seconds before moving his hand up and shaking it, then putting it inside the pockets of his brown pants and using the other in order to adjust his white, high quality long-sleeved shirt. The man was now practically on the floor, whimpering as he crouched against the stone wall behind him as he shamefully covered his face with his shaking hands. It was truly an embarrassing sight. Once Rafe was finished, he turned his back and opened the back door to the bar, tilting his head to the side and staring at him one last time.
"If you'll excuse me, I have to get back to more important matters- the wonderful evening I was having with her before you, very rudly I might say, abruptly interfered."
✶ gangster!rafe, who likes giving you nicknames that represent your beauty such as 'dollface', 'peach', and his personal favorite, 'dandelion'. You absolutely adore them too- the way they always roll off his tongue so sweetly, like butter being spread on a slice of bread. He's a man who admires and cares for your body, your mind and very being as if you were a princess or a delicate porcelain vase with beautiful painted flowers.
"Look at you, m' pretty dandelion all dolled up for me." he murmurs as he carefully places his head over your shoulder, blue orbs looking into your eyes through the mirror of your bedroom while his hands found your waist and gently nestled around it. His lips were slightly curved upwards, making the hint of his smile shown to you. One of his fingers traced small circles on your waist, making you let out a small and flustered chuckle as you covered your mouth with one of your hands in a polite manner to hide it. You were wearing one of your newer dresses- a pretty light blue polka-dotted dress that perfectly hugged your figure. This, was one of the many dresses Rafe gifted you in the past two weeks. Your lips had red tint and your cheeks had a faint pink color on them- a little bit of makeup, but not too much. His eyes trailed down, all the way to the contour of your legs and to the white leathered heels you were wearing. in his eyes, you truly were a work of art- like a Renaissance painting that had come to life. Now, he was a man that firmly believed that actions spoke more than words, so as soon as his eyes met with yours once again, he planted sweet kisses on your neck alongside little nibbles. This, was his own way of letting you know that you looked absolutely stunning.
✶ gangster!rafe, who, despite having so much blood on his hands, is always careful with you and tries to avoid showing you his darker side as much as he can. Who doesn't want you to know all the sins he has done, all the people he had killed before, in fear of loosing you forever.
''Y'know how much I care about you, right kid?'' he asks after taking a long drag from his cigarette, voice almost a whisper as he's sitting on the sofa of your living room while you laid next to him, head resting on the armrest and legs over his lap while his free hand slowly massages one of your bare feet. He stared at you, blinking slowly. The sudden of a question made you open your once closed eyes and perk your head up to look up at him with an innocent, confused stare. ''Well, certainly. I always have.'' you replied softly, giving him a reassuring smile before it vanished as soon as it appeared. You sensed that something was wrong. After all, why else would he ask this? ''Why do you ask?'' you continued, now scanning the expression on his face, despite the fact that he was a very hard man to read. He swallowed, but maintained eye contact. ''Nothin'. Just wanted to let you know how much I love you all over again.'' He knew he shouldn't lie to you- that he should tell you the truth about where all his money comes from, how his family got as powerful as it is, what kind of person he actually is. But it was too dangerous. Luckily for him, he was a good liar, an actor- if you may call it that. He grabbed the foot he was massaging and placed it near his lips before he kissed each one of your fingers in a slow, sensual manner. This made you relax and soon enough, you were resting once again, breathing calmly as you felt safe in his presence.
✶ gangster!rafe, who tries to stop by the flower shop every single day to say hello. No matter how busy he was, how much trouble he had gotten himself into, what kind of business he was doing that day, he never forgot about you. Ever.
✶ gangster!rafe, who likes to take you back to where the both of you had first met every once in a while. The place, in question, is les deus magots.
✶ gangster!rafe, who might be rough between the sheets, but is as gentle as he can be afterwards and makes your comfort his prime priority.
you let out quiet mews as he pounded into you, you legs wrapped around his hips as your plush breasts jiggled up and down in rhythm with his thrusts. Your plump lips remained parted as you felt out of breath, feeling an intense flutter in your tummy that only got stronger as his movements picked up a speed. It felt so good- too good, in fact. You couldn't help but let out some tears that started to run down your cheeks, eyes closed shut as you listened to his grunts. The bed was shaking, making the crackling sound echo through the bedroom.
''There you go, shhh, you're okay.'' he whispers soothingly as he plants a soft kiss on the side of your cheek, both of you laying inside the warm bathtub. There were scented candles on the bathroom countertops, The lights on the pastel green walls turned off in order to enhance the ambiance of the room. Your muscles finally relaxed, and you felt yourself slowly start drifting into sleep while one of Rafe's hands massaged your shoulders. He seems content, blue eyes full of emotion as he looks down at you, hot breath against your neck and tiny droplets of water landing on your back from his wet and messy hair.
✶ gangster!rafe, who lets you spend his money on whatever you want, no matter what. All you have to do is ask, and he'll give you some cash- no questions asked.
✶ gangster!rafe, who loves the way your eyes brighten up whenever you're at the park and you find a pretty flower. Who later takes it from your little hands and places it on your hair.
✶ gangster!rafe, who gifted you a puppy one day as a surprise .
''So, I got you a little something.'' he tells you while he held in front of you a rather large red box with a big white bow around it between his arms. His tone was blunt, his expression the same as always, yet he was lightly tapping his foot against the wooden floor of your home. You were confused, to say the least, But of course- you accepted it, quickly taking it from his hands- perfectly manicured nails gripping it tightly. It was heavy- very heavy. ''Oh! I wonder what it could be!!'' you said almost in a lyrical shriek, excitement in your voice as you sat down on your sofa, legs crossed while you placed it right next to you. Suddenly, it moved, and your widening eyes drifted from the package to Rafe. ''No...no.. gosh, Rafe don't tell me it's what I think it is'' you murmured, placing your hands over your mouth. You were met with silence. Of course he didn't answer. Instead, he just tilted his head, almost as if he was attempting to hide the sly grin that was beginning to form on his lips. Not being able to control your excitement any longer, you carefully opened the box, taking the upper part away and revealing what was inside. You gasped, and your pretty shrieks of happiness filled the room. Rafe Cameron had gifted you a cocker spaniel puppy. A real puppy- not a plushie. ''Oh my goodness.. oh my goodness! oh wow- I have no words!'' you ran up to him and hugged him tightly- maybe a little too much. The puppy trotted towards the both of you and barked happily. ''Glad to be makin' you happy, peach'' he said before gently taking your chin in his hand to make you look up at him before kissing you on the lips.
✶ gangster!rafe, who wouldn't admit it out loud, but sometimes thinks that maybe.. you really are 'the one' for him...
✶ a/n : GUYS GUYS I DID IT!! I know this is a bit short, but tbh.. I might write more about gangster!rafe in the future :) if anyone wants to request something with him you can feel free to do so too. I tried to include a little smut, but eh.. this was my first ever fic (if you could even call this a fic) so it's probably a bit...meh. Either way, I'm glad I finally finished it, and I hope it was enjoyable to read!!
✶ creds : @amariisflossy for the gangster!rafe idea, @dollywons for the second header
@sinisternymphette 2024
#✦ . ࣪ ׅ aus#✦ . ࣪ ׅ fics#rafe cameron x you#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron#rafe cameron fic#obx#obx fic#obx x reader#obx fanfiction#rafe obx#outer banks fanfiction#obx smut#outer banks smut#outerbanks rafe#outer banks imagine#rafe smut#outer banks#outer banks x reader#fanfic#gangster!rafe#gangster!rafe cameron#1930s au#Spotify
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Yandere Pyramid what if he gets reader pregnant Just go crazy with this hahaha
(IS THAT EVEN POSSIBLE I DON'T KNOW BUT WITH HIS AMOUNT OF CUM I WOULDN'T DOUBT IT)
Paring : YANDERE Pyramid Head x fem!reader
Cw: smut, possible NON-CON/DUB-CON, tentacle tongue, possessive behaviour + sex, breeding, pregnancy, creampie, belly bulge, tell me if I missed any.
Wc: 674
He'd go wild at the idea of knocking you up, watching your soft stomach bloat with a new life and your breasts swell, nipples leaking milk that he could suck until his kid came out. He'd fuck you until you get pregnant, stuffing you with his cum and his cock, keeping every little swimmers inside your bulging heat. He liked watching you strain around his girth, walls twitching and closing tightly around him, your cries echoing under his metal pyramid.
It's a ritual, every night, any spare moment, he'd have you sprawled under him, rutting his length into your red, swollen cunt until you grew limp, a little cumdump for him. His bulbous tip kissed your cervix, pushing against your womb's entrance and pumped generous load after generous load into your warm, fertile womb, a virgin to childbirth.
Whether he had you under him, pounding away the hours of the night - or day if he felt like it - over him, riding his thick and veiny cock until your slick covered his whole abdomen, or against a wall, rattling the structure with his punching thrusts when felt especially feral; he made sure to cover you in his musk, body smelling of him with reminders of last night, dark bruises marring your skin.
They were brandings of the finest he could give (other than his seed branding your spasming cunt as his little cockdrunk survivor.) to show others who you belonged to. He's had his possessive strikes, growling at killers and survivors who got too close to you for his liking, waving his broadsword and shaking the ground in strong ripples.
Pyramid Head was exceptionally possessive, being a creature of grief and regret created for a sole purpose, granting him nothing to his name or soul to own. Such a situation makes a person - any person - possessive of their things, like a child deprived of toys and love, they grow possessive and careful.
And to add a child, some would think he'd hate his child for taking most of your attention, your affection and your time, but this child was from yours and his blood, a creation of yours. It was the second thing he could call his own, a living being - beside you - he could care for and nurture, it played with a more domestic side of him. It would simply mean he'd take more drastic and scary measures.
Just a big, broad Pyramid Head growling at anyone with his equally big toy in hand, truly the scariest guard dog in The Entity's world (Guard dog privileges+).
Extra: during the pregnancy
Man is oblivious to the struggle of women, especially pregnant ones. Mood swings and odd cravings make him scratch his head in confusion. Was it safe to eat pickles, then peanut butter and tuna in a sitting? Would it be bad if you woke up in discomfort and your stomach was ready to empty itself?
He's as clueless about childbirth as a baby, every step had to have help from The Nurse and The Doctor, both having some experience with pregnancies in their previous lives. Reluctantly, he'd call for them once he sees you hunched over a bowl, puking yesterday's food. If there was a step-by-step book about pregnancies, perhaps a 101 tips about pregnancies for noobs, Pyramid Head would need it, he needs all the help he can get.
He knows not fuck you, naturally, for the safety of his child. That, however, doesn't stop him from pleasing you, using his thick fingers to pump and curl into your upper wall and flick your swollen clit when your hormones act up and you get horny; or he'd tonguefuck you into overstimulation, with his tentacle-like tongue that slithers from under his mask, long and wet. He's agile with it, twisting his tongue in every sense and curling it into a ball to fuck you.
He's talented with his cock, his fingers and his tongue, nothing can stop him from caring for your needs, he's skilled in many ways.
#yandere x reader#pyramid head dbd#pyramid head x reader smut#pyramid head x reader#pyramid head#pyramid head smut#dbd smut#dbd x reader#dbd fanfic#dead by daylight smut#dead by daylight x reader#Dead by daylight pyramid head#dead by daylight#dead by daylight x you
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Posting this because self care comes in many forms. Including this body butter from truly. I love it 😻
#body butter#truly scrumptious#self care#shopsmall#black mental health#black girl self care#black girl aesthetic#black girl magic
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Crush
dean winchester x fem!reader
2.6k | angst, fluff
summary: operation, have you and dean actually get along. that is all sam begged and pleaded to happen. though, it worked better than he initially had hoped.
sam believed that if he rolled his eyes anymore, they’d get stuck at the back of his head. he loved you, don’t get it twisted. it’s just that when you and dean were in the same room, things seemed to get a lot more. . . aggravating, to say it lightly.
the winchester brothers had met you around three years ago on a hunt in washington. a pesky demon is what brought you all together. well, it was more or less you and sam. dean was just an added on bonus that wasn’t really a bonus because you wanted to slap him across the face every ten seconds.
you and dean winchester hadn’t gotten along since the jump, and sam could easily vouch for the statement since he’d been in the middle of the lengthy feud for many years. dean was cocky, stubborn, and always had to be right, something you couldn’t stand. as someone who strived on being independent, a man like dean was a thorn in your side.
for years, anytime sam called you to help on a case, or you three were in the same place at the same time, you and dean would always end up in some kind of fight. whether it be his idea was better than yours or dean’s constant need to blare his music in the car it didn’t matter. you would always fight and sam would always dream of cutting his eyes out with a blunt butter knife
this hunt wasn’t any different. a witch had been using the residents of a small town in mississippi as her personal test dummy’s. droppings bodies left, right, and centre. so with a call from sam, you hopped on a bus and met the two brothers at their motel in kentucky, ready to join the hunt.
dean always teased you for not having a constant form of transportation, but you weren’t a douche who rode in a classic muscle car. especially one who was attached to it as a baby is to their bottle, so his digs just went completely deaf to you.
knocking on the winchester’s motel room door, sam greeted you with a gleaming smile on his face. arms extended for a hug, you cuddled into his chest and rested your head by his shoulder, catching a glimpse of dean shovelling a mini pie into his mouth.
when the older brother caught your eye, he just scoffed. hands moving to cross over his chest as you stepped away from sam and did the same.
“we really don’t need her help sammy.” dean practically snarled, mouth tilting up in a devious smirk. “she’s probably already got plans with all her little pals on the bus.”
sam just sighed, already mentally prepared for the kindergarten level digs you two were going to throw at each other. he almost left the room as he watched your shoulders square and your jaw clench. “oh very funny dean.” you retorted, hands resting in your pockets so you didn’t choke the man. “why don’t i just go slash all your tires? then maybe we can be bus buddies.”
“don’t you dare even think about touching my baby!” dean’s finger had lifted in the air in a pointing motion at you, and sam felt his hands lift up and slap against his thighs. “oh dear god, you guys are killing me! there’s people who need are help, and you two fighting like an old married couple isn’t going to help them.”
the sour look on your face when sam mentioned you and dean in the same sentence as married couple could’ve been made as a reaction photo, yet sam and dean didn’t acknowledge it as they led the way outside and to the infamous chevy impala.
nothing could ever prepare sam for the long car rides with you and his brother. it was either copious hours of bickering or a tense silence that had sam so uncomfortable he questioned if walking was a good idea.
this time the silence was so thick, sam genuinely reached his breaking point. Years of breaking up your arguments and having to be the middleman drove him to a dire conclusion; he needed to get you and Dean to like each other.
the plan was truly fool proof. force the two of you to work on the case together and boom, all the arguing and petty fights would be a faraway memory. sam had to contain his grin when he mentioned that interviewing the families is more of a one person job than going to the morgue. his grin didn’t leave his face even as he mentioned that he was better with comforting grieving families than either you or dean.
no words were spoken between you and dean in the car ride towards the morgue. in all honesty, you never knew what to say to the man. he was always angry, finding something to get mad about and always finding a way for it to be your fault.
truthfully, maybe that’s why you hated him. he never let you explain yourself, always jumping to conclusions and blaming you for the smallest things. if it wasn’t for his quick temper and communication issues, you’d probably have a huge crush on the man.
it was dean winchester at the end of the day. and as much of a dick as he was to you, you witnessed those moments he had with sam or with a family member or victim on a case where he wasn’t an absolute dickhead. it was sad really, how much dean hated you. sam spoke up and down that you and dean would be a great duo, yet you never got to prove him right or wrong since his older brother couldn’t go five minutes without arguing with you.
although, something you weren’t aware of was that dean’s thoughts were very similar to yours. he didn’t know why you got under his skin, yet he couldn’t stop thinking about you for weeks after you would leave.
the man knew there was nothing wrong with you. he was just stubborn, and pushing people away before he got too close to them was his specialty. what if you became someone special in his life? what if because of that, you died, and then dean would blame himself for the rest of his life.
it was easier to keep you at an arms length than to get too close, and yeah sam would say he was being childish, but dean didn’t really care. you hating him and staying alive was better than him meaning something to you and that being the reason you were dead.
the trip to the morgue was awkward for the better part. you were trying to rid your mind of any thoughts you had on dean in the car and the man in question was trying his best to remain a good foot away from you. both of you could tell that something had shifted in that stupid ten minute car ride, but neither of you wanted to bring it up.
sam knew something was up when he met with you and dean again. it wasn’t even close to his end goal, but he knew that he was getting close to the feud between you and dean to finally be over.
his final shove was suggesting that you and dean check out the home of moira carlson while he goes to talk to the sheriff in charge of the murders. an argument raged on, but begrudgingly, you and dean left together to go investigate the number one suspects home.
dean had gotten to the home in under ten minutes, and now you found yourself and dean sneaking around the back of mrs carlson’s home to slip in the back door.
a scoff could be heard behind you. and as you turned around, you saw dean with an exasperated look on his face. “jesus woman, can you breathe any louder?”
the pettiness of dean’s complaint just had you rolling your eyes, turning back so you could make your way to where the sliding back door was; unlocked thankfully.
moira carlson’s home definitely screamed evil witch who enjoys killing people. occult items and witchy like items were sprawled around the living and dining room. a big pot in the kitchen alongside weird looking herbs also tipped you off. you would’ve mentioned how cliche all of this was if dean didn’t drop and shatter a statue like a dumb ass.
“are you serious!” you exclaimed, whipping around to look at dean’s hunched figure, trying to clean the broken pieces of the statue in a hurry. “can you not be a complete oaf for one damn second?”
the eldest winchester just laughed humourlessly, standing back up with all the broken pieces in his hand. “i’m not the one stomping around like an ogre. she can be home for all we know.”
“coming from the guy with the cinder blocks for shoes.” you scoffed, both you and dean looking down at his monstrous boots. “all of this complaining is really rich coming from you, dean winchester.”
it seemed that at that very moment, dean had enough of your guys’ bickering. with a wild look in his eye, dean flew off the handle in a way that you probably wouldn’t be able to describe in full accuracy ever again. he started off with a disbelieved “really!” and then ranted on for longer than you ever could’ve pictured.
“how is it possible that you think i’m the one always complaining, miss whines a lot.” your eyes buggered out of your head as you looked on past dean. “you know, i’ve been keeping my cool for sammy’s sake but you are really a piece of work. i know i’m not the best person to be around 24/7 but cmon, can you not try and be civil for once?”
he kept going. yet you weren’t focused on whatever dean was saying, for moira carlson, in all of her evil witchy goodness, was coming up behind dean with a spell on her tongue that did not look friendly at all.
“dean.” you muttered, watching as the now ghastly looking woman got closer. he didn’t listen though, just threw his arms in the air and let his hands reside on his hips like a child. “oh so mature y/n. go on and interrupt me-“
“get down you idiot!” your body smacked down to the floor just as the witch threw dean across the room. poor bastard didn’t even have time to turn around. attempting to take shelter behind the sofa, you grabbed on to dean’s sprawled body and shuffled across the floor while trying to shoot at mrs carlson.
somehow, you got the two of you behind the sofa, propping dean in a sitting position before resting your body over the couch so you could take a shot. dean was frantically texting sam, warning his brother about what danger you two were in while wheezing in the air that got knocked out of his lungs.
with a mighty wave of her hand, the witch blew the couch into two pieces. dean’s body slumped back to the floor, too bruised and in pain to allow the man to even move a muscle. a loud cackle could be heard as mrs carlson moved in on dean, ready to deliver her final blow.
she was about to, if it wasn’t for your gun going off at the perfect time and striking her right in her forehead. the woman slumped to the ground beside dean, the man in question shimmying as far away from her as possible before you rushed over and propped him up on the nearest wall.
“oh god.” you mumbled, watching as dean nearly coughed up a lung. you knew he was okay, he took worse beating than this. it was just the fact of seeing him get thrown around like a rag doll that had an emotion bubbling to the forefront of your mind. one you never thought you’d experience towards dean.
waving you off, dean sat himself up straighter and took a deep intake of air. “i’m okay y/n, it’s fine. though you probably just saved my life.” dean all of a sudden had the realization that he didn’t need to be so closed off all this time. you could easily handle your own, and having someone like you would probably be the best thing that ever happened to him.
a sheepish blush rose to your cheeks as dean stared at you longer, and suddenly, you realized that maybe the man wasn’t as bad as you initially thought. deep down, you cared about him. yeah, you two could fight like cats and dogs, but so does everyone. at the end of the day, you would always be there for dean and he’d do the same for you.
“i’m sorry for how i’ve treated you these past couple of years.” your random word vomit had dean snapping his head up, eyes wide and mouth agape as he stared at your nervous features. “i know you have your own way of doing things and i shouldn’t pester you about everything. it sucks that you probably still hate me, but can we please work on us-“
“i never hated you.” dean cut you off so quickly it was almost like he couldn’t bare hold down those words any longer. your nervous face turned shocked, and suddenly dean had the confidence to say what he always wanted to. “ever since i was young, every person i’ve ever cared about either leave’s or dies, and i somehow just knew that you were special the first moment i met you.” a somber smile appeared on your face, and you found yourself moving closer and closer to dean as he continued to speak.
“i’m sorry i never gave you a chance sweetheart, but would you give me one now?” you didn’t have to be asked twice, for in an instant you perched yourself in dean’s lap and smashed your lips onto his.
dean didn’t take long to reciprocate your actions. hands moving to go around your waist and nestle in your hair while your own gripped tightly onto his t shirt. dean’s mouth was exploring all the places he wished he could’ve kissed you sooner. your soft lips, all around your face. when he moved on to placing sloppy kisses on your neck, you felt the vibrations of his voice against your skin as he kept mumbling. ‘so perfect’ and ‘you’re so beautiful, everything i could ever dream of.’
unknown to the two of you, sam had just walked in the front door and was ready to defend you all against the destructive witch. though to his surprise — and slight disgust if he was being honest, he stepped into the living room to see you and dean behind a destroyed couch. the two of you were heavily making out and dean just put it upon himself to wrap his one arm around the underside of your ass, hoisting you further up on his body and giving it a firm squeeze in the process.
“well fuck.” sam mumbled to himself, slightly gagging up his salad from lunch as he watched dean pull your head back by a tuft of your hair and start leaving trails of hickeys down your neck.
“yeah, that’s enough of that.” the youngest winchester just silently mumbled to himself as he walked back outside the front door, leaving you and dean in the middle of a random house to sort out all of your pent up feelings in a way he definitely shouldn’t be seeing.
#supernatural#imagine#dean winchester#sam winchester#supernatural x reader#fluff#dean winchester imagine#dean winchester x reader#dean x reader#dean winchester one shot#dean winchester x you#dean
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What Are We (3 of 4)
John Price x Female Reader
Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): light angst, soft!Price, heavy suggestive themes, canon-typical swearing
Word Count: 978
A/N: Part of the Imagines & What If Series
Not interested in playing games, Price makes it clear what he wants.
ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // what are we masterlist
“Are we doing this or no, love?”
You glance up from your morning tea, surprised. “What?”
John crosses his arm and leans against the edge of the counter. He’s only wearing sweatpants, and his bare chest is distracting. He might be older, but John is just as strong as the younger men that work under him. Those large arms of his are all corded muscle and protruding vein. His chest and stomach have a thickness to them that speaks to more than simply going to the gym.
“Us,” he replies. “What are we? What are we doing?” He sounds slightly huffy. Not angry, just impatient. In need of an answer.
You swallow down the burning liquid and nearly grimace from the heat. “I—what do you mean?”
One eyebrow rises, almost in chastisement. Which is fair since you know what John is pushing back about even as you feign innocence. Right now, you don’t want to face the reality. What you and John have is so peaceful that pushing it forward—or back—might disrupt the quiet, shattering it all like smashed glass.
John sighs, and reaches out, placing his large palm over the mouth of your tea mug. His fingers grip it, and you know to let it go, to release your hold. John sets the mug down on the counter next to him.
Spreading his legs, John uncrosses his arms, holding them out in front of him. “Come here,” he murmurs, and the tone is so soft and inviting that you immediately comply, entering his arms like melted butter over toast.
Fuck, he’s warm. A furnace.
You wrap your arms around his middle, and John does the same, tucking you against his body. “We live together,” he says.
“Yes.”
“We sleep in the same bed.”
You nod. “That we do.”
The corner of his mouth twitches with amusement. “I’ve met your bloody parents.”
“What’s your point?” you ask, haughty and stubborn.
Price’s hand drops lower. Squeezes. The power behind it forces you further against him, and you feel everything, especially the hardness that hasn’t appeared to abate since the morning’s quickie.
“My point, is that we need to call this what is it.”
Shit. This is it. You’re going to have to face the reality of this and look it in the face. You and Price are not simply friends. You are not even friends with benefits or a uncomplicated fling. This is real. Truly and utterly real and yet you keep denying what sits in front of you.
You and John are a couple. That is what this is.
He has met your parents. He has met your friends. You know his coworkers—at least the ones he trusts enough to share your existence with. The two of you talk about the future together, never pivoting away from the possibility of separation.
Everything happens together. Everything.
So why keep denying it?
“I’m not looking to play games, love.” John reaches up and slides his hand to the back of your neck, his thumb tracing the line of your throat. “With my career, I need stability when I come home.” He hugs you closer. “I want you as my wife. Little versions of us running around.”
He closes the distance, lightly pressing his lips to yours. With the hold on your throat, John is a bit possessive with it, a little rough in the way he holds you. It’s such a contrast to how his lips caress your skin, tasting softly.
John releases your lips, pulling back just enough to stare into your eyes. “If you don’t want these things, you tell me now.” The husky drop in his voice sends a shiver straight to your core, makes you slick between the thighs.
Returning to your lips, John’s pressure increases, becomes slightly desperate. Slightly choking with his need to get his point across. You need to make a decision. You need to tell John what you want.
Because, you do want him. You crave him every second of every day. But this is a massive step, and John’s life is an unpredictable assortment of missing time and extended absences. The stability John desires is something you are more than willing to give, but you also don’t want to carry that burden all on your own.
“What happens when you’re not here, John?” you ask, once he’s ceased kissing you. “And even when you are, am I to take up the mental load?”
There are times when you will need to give more, or John might have to, but you don’t want to be left to do it all yourself. John’s job is difficult. It can be traumatizing and stressful, but you need to know if he’ll be present when he returns.
You don’t need to elaborate. You don’t need to explain. John already knows. He understands.
“Coming home to you in between is the happiest I’ve ever been. I just want you here. Everything else is negotiable.”
You smile against his mouth. “I thought you said you wanted little versions of us running around?”
John shrugs. “I do. If you don’t, that’s fine.” Both hands fall away from your body to firmly squeeze your ass. “But I will fuck you like we’re trying.”
“John!” you rear back and playfully smack his chest.
He nuzzles your neck and inhales, drawing you right back into him. “We can go try right now.” John lightly presses his pelvis against you and you smile as his desire creates a pressure between your bodies.
“We don’t have anything planned today,” you murmur.
John squeezes harder. “Exactly, love. We have the whole day.”
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desert eagle
another rodeo!abby x reader | p.i
seeing the star of the rodeo secretly in the night has been fun, but things start to get tense from miscommunication. but it’s amateur bull night down at the cow belle, and you’ve still got a few tricks up your sleeve.
wc : 2.619
contains : fluff. reader is hard headed. jealousy? fxf smut. strap on sorry to the people sick of it </3
a/n : you thought it was over ahaaaaa. wdym part one was in APRIL i suck at this. why are all of the desert eagle position pictures slightly different its pissing me off.
truly, everything currently going wrong was all abby anderson's fault.
it's a humid saturday night at the cow belle, and you're pouting while nursing a beer as your friends chatter around you. they'd taken you out to your favorite spot to try to brighten your spirits after noticing your sour mood, hoping some alcohol, dancing, and flirting would fix you right up.
but it was hopeless, for a dark cloud seemed to be hanging over your head the whole night. an annoying, sweet-talking, six-foot, blonde braided cloud.
it was established after your first extremely hot and extremely long night together with abby a few weeks ago that you both had an understanding. no strings, no attachments, no labels. you weren't gonna let a big beautiful woman butter you up only to leave you in a ditch, not after the last time. you'd go to the other's house, have rough messy sex, and maybe have some nice conversation, before heading your own way and repeating it the next week. no more and no less.
but god, you should've known it wouldn't last. ever since that first night when her silky smooth drawl convinced you to stay just a bit longer, to sleep in her bed with her shirt on! you might as well have woken up and cooked her breakfast in bed with a 'good morning, honey.'
who could blame you really? ever since you'd set eyes on abby anderson you knew she was something else, a beautiful force of nature that wouldn't budge until she wrecked you so thoroughly. at the time you were as horny as a coyote in may and saw that as just what you needed, a prized golden notch on your belt. a completely different way from what you do now.
right now you were trying to telepathically burn holes into the back of her beautiful head as she flirted with that hussy donna mayfair, an admittedly gorgeous girl with a big personality, big hair, and big...well, y'know. you look down at your chest and slightly straighten your back before roughly shaking your head after realizing this damn woman has you comparing yourself to a mayfair! of all people! the thought only upsets you more and you down the nearest drink to you, ignoring your friend's whine at the loss of her whiskey.
the small and reasonable part of your brain knows you have no right to be upset. after all, it was you who just a week ago insisted to a blushing abby that you truly did want to just keep things casual. you felt bad a little bit, she'd shown up to your hookup flushed and high off of another rodeo win with a tiny bouquet of your favorite flowers, explaining when you asked how she knew that she noticed them on the motif of your favorite pair of figure-hugging jeans. the bastard.
the relaxed but downcast look she wore after your rejection is a stark contrast to how she looks now, pearly whites showing when she throws her head back at some joke donna told, a large hand coming to rest on the redhead's waist. you can see her preening, foot nearly popping up as she swoons over the female goliath giving her all of her attention. it's enough to make you throw up. or maybe it was drinking all that busch light. whatever.
you must not have been very discreet with your glances because suddenly blue eyes are lifting up and focusing on yours, the shock of being caught forcing you still as your finger circles the rim of your next glass. you try to keep normal 'we're two normal people and definitely not recently gone sour fuck buddies' eye contact, but your body betrays you when your eyes flick down to her hand still on donna's waist. when you look at her again the corner of her lip is quirked up, never looking away as she pulls the redhead in closer and whispers something in her ear, the girl visibly going weak in the knees while abby licks her lips-
"well slap my ass and call me sally, come over here hon!" your darling charlize breaks you out of your..whatever that was and picks you up from your stool to drag you over to the event area, a few people drinking while gathered around the brand new bucking machine as one of the bar hands tinkers with the controls.
"what about it char, 'm really not in the mood..."
"oh don't be such a sourpuss, jus look at this!" she gently grips your chin and tilts your head to a nearby wall, a small white poster detailing a month-long mechanical bull contest as soon as the thing was completed, and each winner would get free drinks and $500 cash prize.
"jeez, since when did the belle bring in bucks like that?"
"doesn't matter. in one weeks time you're gonna put on a hot little outfit and win us those free drinks. and hopefully the cash takes your mind off of your situationship."
"oh yeah? and what makes you think I'm gonna be the one to win?"
"honey, ive seen the most hardass women look at you like well-trained pups. you've gotta be the best ride i know.”
so a week later you’re back in the same spot, hair pulled up and donned in your cropped and tied plaid shirt and your cutest pair of daisy dukes as you wrote your name down on the sheet of others trying to win the prize.
your friends are gathered around you, ever the voices of support as they fuss over you and give you words of encouragement. and while you do smile and laugh with them you can’t help from occasionally looking at abby, back with donna as her group hangs around the edge of the bull area.
“y’know i’ve never heard of someone bagging a hot ass woman, rejecting a relationship with said woman, and then pining over and trying to make that same woman jealous.” savannah fixes your hair while judging you, making sure it won’t get in your face so you can see what you’re doing while up there.
“stop questioning me, i’ve already been doing that myself.” your mumble makes the girls laugh before one of the workers comes to tell you that you’re up after the next person. you give them a nod before walking over to the small gate that leads to the bill, right next to-
“hey, looks like our little buckle bunny is gonna ride an actual bull! make sure to give us a nice show, huh bonita?”
you can’t help but smile when manny comes up beside you to throw an arm over your shoulder, nudging your body with his. the rest of his friends are here of course, including she who shall not be named with her new beau at her side.
“you’re gonna ride the new bull? well i hope you know what you’re doing, don’t want you to end up getting hurt now.” donna asks, grasping your hand in hers with a genuinely worried look on her face. damn it, now you were starting to feel bad.
“now don’t you worry, hon. i’ve got quite a bit of experience in riding.” you throw a wink her way before looking at abby next to her, not noticing the flustered look on donna when all you can do is revel in how you caught abby staring at your exposed stomach. before you can try to tease her about it your name is being called up and you're heading into the pit.
you graciously accept one of the workers' help to get you up on the bull, ignoring some of the catcalls that ring out when your shorts ride up an inch or two. you make sure to do everything you've seen others do (and maybe you watched a certain someone's videos to prepare yourself), steadying your dominant hand on the saddle while your free hand is raised above your head.
the experience is fast and hard just like you like it, the bull spinning and bucking so fast its almost enough to make you dizzy. as much as the cheers of fellow patrons make you want to look up and revel in it, you know you need to watch the bulls head to prepare for each time it turns, thighs tightly squeezing its sides. it's only when you hear the timer start to count down from ten that you look at everyone again, blowing a quick kiss to the blonde that's staring you down.
once the machine stops moving you are helped off and guided back to your incredibly loud friends, all happy to hype you up and start planning how much of the expensive high shelf drinks they wanna get. when you're announced as the winner only a few minutes later the night quickly becomes one filled with dancing and laughter.
you wave goodbye to your friends as their truck speeds away from your street, blowing you kisses as they yell for you to have a good night's sleep. you can't help but smile as you place your bag down in your kitchen, ready to wash the sweat from dancing off your body before sleeping through the night. unfortunately, some absolute boar decided now would be a good time to come knocking at your door."
"alright alright, im comin'!" your shouts do nothing to dissuade the steady banging against your door, nearly slipping on your hardwood floors as you rush to undo the locks and see who it is. "i really hope i owe you some money or else i'll"
"or else you'll what?" the sound of abbys voice makes you freeze, the woman resting against the doorway with one hand in her pocket and the other above your head. you need to blink away your surprise at not only her being here but the fact she is now only a few inches from you, close enough that you can smell her signature scent of pine-
"can i come in? or are you gonna keep teasing me like you did at the bar?"
"i did no such thing, you must have me confused with one of your many other flings." you flippantly address her as you turn around back into your home, hearing her quickly trail behind you and lock your door.
"ohh you'd like that, wouldn't you? gives you a reason to be so difficult for no damn reason."
you ignore her words as you head into your kitchen and retrieve yourself a glass from the cabinet, pouring yourself some water and downing it in a few gulps. jesus it's hot, is she hot? she doesn't seem so, minus the fact the sleeves of her shirt are rolled up and straining against her arms.
"no, i was in fact celebrating my win if you didn't notice. although I'm pretty sure you did, it'd be hard to miss my brilliant technique. maybe i can give you a few tips, i watched some of your shows and honestly hon, you're a bit sloppy."
you try to keep your tone cool while she moves closer and closer to you, eventually taking your empty glass and setting it down before placing both of her arms on either side of you, caging you into the counter, and blue eyes darting between yours and your lips while you speak.
"so you've been watchin my videos, huh? i'd invite you to actually come watch me, like I've already done before, but that would require you to stop ignoring me."
"you had donna mayfair to keep you company, i really doubt you noticed i was gone-"
she kisses you to shut you up, and you really wish you could've said you resisted her for long, that you didn't throw your arms around her neck and wrapped your legs around her waist as soon as she set her palms on your ass. you don't have the time to be embarrassed when shes carries you to your bedroom, removes your clothes before she does the same to her own, and reveals the strap she'd been wearing for who knows how long.
"yeah, not so mouthy now, are you?" abby smiles from above you, admiring how fast she's got you fucked out beneath her while you erratically lift your hips up to meet her short and shallow thrusts. the crooks of her elbows are helping to hold your legs in the air, your hands gripping your thighs to help give her easier access as she pounds into you.
"ab's, fuck, please."
"please what? use your words, beautiful."
"please, 'm sorry i won't ignore you again just- just do something, anything."
she puts on a sickly sweet lovestruck smile, and whispers a small 'god, you're lucky you're cute," before starting to fuck you exactly how she knows you like it. it's fast and hard, yes, but there's a hint of something more in the way she stares at you, how you lift your head for a kiss and she gives it to you without a second thought.
your hands start to claw at her waist, gripping the muscle to try to bring her impossibly closer every time her hips meet yours and her strap presses into that spot that makes your eyes damn near cross.
before you know it your orgasm is creeping up fast, unable to say it but of course, abby can tell regardless, how the resistance between your legs steadily increases and how your moans turn into desperate little whimpers.
"c'mon, you can do it. cum for me sweet girl."
all you can do is shake in her arms like a petal on a leaf, moaning and mewling up to the high heavens as abby pushes you through your orgasm, not stopping her thrusts until you weakly push at her arms to signal her to stop.
you fade in and out of consciousness while she takes care of you, the feeling of a rag cleaning your skin and more water being guided to your mouth all seeming to happen in a few seconds. when she finishes you blink your eyes open at her, admiring just how pretty she always seems to look after taking away your ability to walk.
you stare at each other for a moment, her palm coming to fix a few stray hairs on your face before you reach up to grab it and pull her into bed beside you. you pull the covers above the both of you, ignoring her raised eyebrows and know it all smirk.
"well, im not rude enough to send you home after all of that. might as well make yourself comfortable."
she chuckles, reaching over to turn off your bedside lamp before cuddling you from behind, her soft skin like its own blanket against yours.
"whatever you say, bunny."
when you wake up in the morning it's from the gentle rays of the sun peeking through your curtain and into your eyes, the smell of coffee and bacon quickly filling your nostrils when you notice your...partner, isn't in bed with you.
quickly throwing on a robe and padding your way into the kitchen, you can't help the warm feeling that grows inside of you at a shirtless abby pouring two cups of coffee while two plates of a small breakfast are already plated on your table.
you come up behind her and wrap your arms around her waist, pressing a kiss to her shoulder when she slightly jumps at the surprise.
"mmm let me guess, you remember how i like my coffee too?"
"i'll remember whatever you want me to, sweet thing."
and right about now that didnt sound too bad.
#rodeo!abby#buckle bunny!reader#abby anderson#abby anderson x reader#abby#tlou#abby x reader#abby anderson smut#abby anderson x female reader#abby anderson x you#abby anderson x y/n
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The Arrangement (7) - Tension
Chapter summary: Astarion needs to feed and things get out of hand... again.
Pairing: Astarion x female!Tav
Warnings: 18+. Dry humping. Masturbation, Precum, Innuendo. Astarion briefly talking you through it. Sexual tension. Sexual frustration.
Word count: 5.4k
Series Masterlist
Astarion needed to feed.
That undeniable fact had come to light in various forms.
You were quite sure that, to the others, it was a blessing in disguise, as Astarion's snarky remarks were now sparse.
But you knew better.
You knew him better.
He hadn't even made a single comment when Gale brought home some horrendous tapestry that he promptly hung on the wall.
That was when you knew he was due a proper feeding.
You glanced at him over your shoulder as you diced some fruit to start the day off.
Astarion was seemingly deep in thought as he masterfully threaded a needle along the edge of the collar of his shirt.
Your heart fluttered briefly as you recalled his enjoyment in embroidery. He had once revealed it helped him hone his dexterity while looking fabulous at it.
A faint smile tugged at your lips, and you returned your attention to the cutting board.
The morning had started off slow and quiet and, for the first time in a long time, you had gotten a proper night's rest.
You couldn't tell if your conversation with Astarion was the sole reason for that, considering you did try the lavender extract Shadowheart had given you. Regardless, there was this pleasant and warm feeling brewing within you.
The joys of communication laced with a touch of intimacy truly left you feeling at peace.
But then…
Your face tensed up as your thought drifted back to Ava.
All pleasant feelings morphed into dread at the conjured image of Astarion offering her his blood.
Whatever interest she had in it had to be rooted in something nefarious. You refused to believe otherwise. Besides, how could she even accept such an exchange when dealing with his vulnerability?
That wasn't right.
You were so caught up in the haunting visual projection of her bleeding him dry, that you didn't realise someone was pressing against you from behind.
“I, for one, am glad we are not back in the wilderness, darling.”
Astarion.
You jolted in surprise as his chin came to rest on your shoulder, his hand drifting down your arm to grip the knife you were holding.
“Anyone with ill-intentions would have you gutted by now.” His voice was low with the faintest hint of a tease.
He was absolutely correct.
Your distraction could have landed you in a bit of a predicament not long ago.
But your gaze was now set on how his hand examined the blade.
“This knife needs polishing,” he said, shifting his lips closer to your neck. “And the edge needs sharpening.”
Oh, he really needed to feed.
And he wasn't even being subtle about it at this point as his lips ghosted your skin.
“I'll get to it later.”
You were trying your hardest to keep your composure, feeling the palms of your hands sweat when he pressed further against you.
A low chuckle rumbled through his chest and your back. “Honestly, I'm surprised you can cut through anything but butter with this.”
He had to know.
He had to know how your pulse had quickened so easily because of him.
“Astarion.”
“Hmm?”
But your mind had blanked for a second, your body reacting instinctively to his.
His hand was closed around yours, thumb rubbing circles on your heated skin as he pressed his cold lips to the throbbing artery that ran along your neck.
Gods…
“You need to feed.”
He paused briefly. “It's quite adorable how you can tell whenever I'm craving your blood.”
You would have dropped the knife had he not been making sure you kept a firm grip on the handle.
“You aren't being particularly subtle.”
He let out a dramatic gasp. “I'm merely offering help with this sad blunt knife, my darling.”
Well, his idea of ‘help’ now involved him pressing his thumb against yours to have it tracing circles along the handle.
“I reckon your grip isn't adequate either,” he whispered in your ear this time. “You must grip it tighter .”
Oh.
Oh…
He was too good at courtship.
The innuendo wasn't lost on you, and you nearly rolled your eyes at his bluntness.
“I do know how to grip a knife, Astarion.”
He chuckled once again. “Yes, I remember your fierce grip whe–”
But before he could finish his sentence, a scoff was heard next to you and you immediately jolted back in panic, slamming into Astarion's lower half.
“Gods! ” he wailed in pain.
Chaos ensued as fruit went flying off the table and rolling along the floor, the knife landing at your feet and the jarring sound of metal clattering around.
“Is everything alright?” Gale's alarmed voice was heard.
Lae'zel merely stood with arms crossed and looking as unfazed as ever.
“Could you two keep your mating rituals out of the kitchen?”
Your eyes widened at her accusation, crouching to clean up the mess. “Oh! No – no! We were not – Astarion was just… just talking about polishing this knife.” You immediately held the blade in your hand for Lae'zel to see.
She raised a brow instead. “Yes. I am quite sure Astarion wouldn't mind you polishing his knife.”
Your jaw dropped.
Astarion was still hunched over the table, clutching his crotch and spilling profanities.
Shit.
You must have hit him really hard.
Lae'zel threw a final scoff heavy with disapproval at both of you before pacing away.
“I'm sorry. I didn't mean it…” You started off, wincing as Astarion massaged the soreness away.
He waved a hand dismissively. “You're a menace even when you don't mean to.”
As he straightened up with a low growl, you noticed the colossal height difference.
Kneeling on the floor, you gathered the scattered fruit and utensils as you looked up at Astarion.
A playful smirk tugged at his lips when he met your gaze. “Not even going to kiss it better, darling?”
You were now at eye-level with his crotch and, for a moment, you thought he had rendered you speechless.
But two could play this game.
You placed a hand dramatically over your mouth. “Right here? In front of everyone? Astarion! ”
You hadn't bothered keeping your voice down and as you rose back to your feet again, you saw a couple of heads turn your way.
Gale looked utterly confused while Lae'zel rolled her eyes, returning her attention to the sword in her hands.
Astarion's smile only deepened. “Oh, you vicious little tease – that was good.”
You patted your clothes straight with a proud smirk before leaning in closer to his face.
“I learned from the best.”
And you quickly pressed a fleeting kiss to his cheek.
He stirred briefly under your touch and you offered him a kind smile as you walked away, casually taking a bite off a pear.
“You should do that more often if it means we are greeted with his silence.” Lae'zel complimented as you sat by her side.
Astarion looked as though you had just slammed a frying pan on his head, but his eyes following your every move.
It wasn't every day that once could take pride in leaving Astarion speechless.
He could hand out the most intricate of innuendos laced with sexual tension, but show him small acts of affection, and he will be disarmed in an instant.
You still remembered that first hug you ever gave him in Moonrise Towers and how he was stunned at first.
“Are you malfunctioning, Astarion?” Shadowheart suddenly quipped as she trailed down the flight of stairs.
You giggled softly at how adorable he looked, even when he finally came to his senses and shook his head, frowning slightly.
“They were engaging in some bizarre pre-mating ritual,” Lae'zel spoke up, inspecting her sword up close. “Seems like she won. Not that I'm surprised.”
Shadowheart winced, disgust splattered all over her face.
Gale chose the wrong time to sip his camomile tea and nearly choked, and you rushed to his side to pat him on the back.
“You do have a way with words, no doubt,” he drawled out, clearing his throat.
Even as used to her bluntness as you were, you still felt heat rush to your cheeks. “We were not doing such a thing.”
She merely shrugged.
Having snapped out of his previous stunned state, Astarion cleared his throat. “You sound jealous, Lae'zel. Should we invite you over?”
You gave him a murderous look, which only served to fuel his boldness.
“Jealous of what, Astarion? Getting kicked in the balls?”
He scoffed.
A soft knock on the door was heard and Shadowheart swiftly moved to open it.
Your stomach flipped momentarily, hoping it wasn't an undesired visit yet again.
But your worries were laid to rest as Wyll strolled in, accompanied by a Fist.
You bolted from the sofa, pulling him into a hug, which he promptly returned.
“I would normally welcome your visit, but the look on your face tells me you don't come bearing good words.” Gale said, tension heavy in his voice.
Wyll parted from you and his silence was truly revealing.
You shuddered and felt panic rising inside you. “What is it? What happened?”
He forced a warm smile. “Shall we take a seat?”
“Or…” Astarion said with a deep scowl. “... you could simply spit out whatever ill-news you're about to drop on us without the unnecessary foreplay.”
Wyll sighed as you motioned for him to take a seat, as everyone else followed suit. The Fist stopped by his side, an unreadable face turned to Astarion.
“Can I get you something?” you asked.
He shook his head vehemently. “I am not staying long. Just offering an update on the murder case.”
You heaved a deep breath, eyeing him expectantly.
“Well? Get on with it,” Astarion goaded impatiently with a click of his tongue.
Shadowheart seemed quite tense all of a sudden and Lae'zel kept a hand on her sword handle.
“It seems that Astarion is no longer a suspect.”
You watched as he rose from his seat with a smile. “Finally. Glad this is all settled!”
“Not so fast,” Wyll said, his face heavy. “Have a seat.”
He sank back into the chair with a deep scowl and crossed arms as a child who had just been told to finish their vegetables.
“After talking to some of the passers-by from that night, the general consensus is that you were the only one they spotted,” Wyll said, turning his head to you. “No one recalls a second person being there, let alone that person being Astarion.”
Your heart dropped before speeding up again.
“What… does that mean?” you said in a whisper.
There was a brief silence and you could feel the tension in the room becoming increasingly more palpable.
“For all intents and purposes, you are regarded as the only offender.”
A cold layer of sweat took over your body all at once.
“Nonsense,” Astarion scoffed in disbelief. “I was there with her. I got captured.”
This time, the Fist was the one to speak, “You offered to get captured, spawn .”
“I wasn't talking to you, Fist .”
You felt Gale's arm around your shoulder protectively. “Wyll, this is ludicrous. No one here murdered anyone.”
He nodded. “I agree. I do believe this to be a grave misunderstanding. However, upon closer inspection of the body, there were some interesting findings.”
You were too stunned to utter a single word, thankful that your companions were doing the talking instead.
Lae'zel's grip on the sword intensified, her stare glued to the plate-armoured Fist. “Such as?”
“Necrotic magic reminiscent of that found in the Szarr palace.”
You watched as Astarion stilled all of a sudden, lips pressed together.
“Which we cannot further compare since someone burned down the entire place,” the Fist said, eyes shifting to Astarion.
The grand manor had gone up in flames not long ago, and you did know Astarion had had a hand in it, but with no proof of his crime, there was no effective way to pin him to it.
But it had been enough to strain his relationship with The Flaming Fist with only Wyll being able to keep them at bay.
“Accusing me of arson now? My, my, add it to my tab, dear,” he said with a roll of his eyes.
But Wyll's patience was wearing thin. “None of this makes any sense. If the two of you are not to be blamed for this – which I definitely stand by – then who could benefit from tangling you into this mess?”
Ava.
Your mind immediately jumped to her.
You had no idea what purpose that could serve, but your instinct seldom failed you.
Even so, you remained silent.
“We are to continue the investigations, naturally,” Wyll went on with a nod. “Necromancy is grounds for imprisonment. Whoever did this, needs to be found and brought to justice.”
Astarion tumbled his fingers on the table. “Well, if you are so sure we are innocent, then let us go.”
“Justice should be blind. I know it is not always the case, but as a former magistrate, I am sure you can agree on the principle.”
Astarion waved dismissively. “It's a sound principle on paper, but its application is tainted and unjust. No one expects the lordlings of Baldur's Gate to answer for any crime.”
Wyll's face twisted into a faint frown. “As true as that might be, I am not keen on upholding such practice. Friend or foe, everyone must face the consequences of their actions.”
A mysterious smile settled on Astarion's lips, but he didn't retort.
Shadowheart cleared her throat. “I could lend my expertise in the matter, Wyll. I could examine the body myself. I have some contacts in the city that could aid me, but I shall need a sample.”
He seemed to hesitate at first, but then slowly nodded. “Very well.”
“So what now?” you finally found your voice again, eager for any glimmer of hope.
Wyll gave you a kind smile. “My friend, do not fret. I am keeping you both here as safekeeping for now. The Council of Four remains sceptical, but if someone did try to frame you, then it is best to stay out of sight.”
You gave him a reluctant nod, realising that time was the only thing on your side for now.
“We've increased the security outside,” the Fist said flatly. “We've added detection spells and mage slayers on rotation.”
You looked up, startled. “ Mage slayers? ”
Gale shared your indignation, the arm around you tensing up. “That is quite extreme.”
“Is it?” Wyll asked. “You two are quite powerful at magic, my friends – but there is always a bigger fish.”
“No wonder my magic has been wavering this morning,” Gale said, rubbing at his chest before pacing towards the window and taking a peek behind the black curtains. “ Two? Wyll, this is–”
“Necessary. For now.”
You swallowed hard, burying your face in your hands in sheer frustration.
“On a lighter note” Wyll began once again. “I was informed that you are to go to Waterdeep to meet with your contact.”
Gale returned to his seat, looking livid. “Yes. We are expecting some proper information on the Wish spell.”
“Good news, then, Astarion,” he said with a soft smile.
He threw a poisonous glare at him instead. “Seeing is believing, or so they say. I will not be celebrating until I am strolling down the sunlight streets of this city without having my ashes being swept off the pavement and into an ashtray..”
Wyll gave him a light-hearted laugh before rising to his feet, adjusting his cloak. “Fair enough. Though my offer still stands, should things go awry.”
That immediately piqued your interest. “What offer?”
Astarion shrugged. “Oh, dear Wyll made me an offer after becoming duke.”
“Which you refused.”
He nodded with a frown. “I am not a dog to order around.”
Your gaze kept switching between the two of them, feeling lost.
“That was never the implication of my offer, friend. You know the nightlife of Baldur's Gate better than anyone. Your intel would be of great value,” Wyll said in exasperation.
“And you are an adequate rogue,” the Fist said.
Astarion immediately scoffed. “ Adequate? I could have you pinned to that wall at the tip of my dagger faster than you can say ‘Baldur's Gate’,” he said with a laugh, but his words held no humour.
“I'd like to see you try, spawn."
Astarion drew his dagger from its sheath, twirling it playfully between his fingers.
Wyll quickly intervened. “It's not one or the other, Astarion. You could have both. We would keep searching for a way to cure your vampirism, while you'd take to the streets to help us fight wrongdoers.”
Well.
It did sound like a solid proposal.
“I would still need to feed.”
“We would bring you fresh carcasses at your demand.”
Astarion was now inspecting his nails. “What about thinking creatures?”
Wyll tensed up immediately. “No.”
Astarion smiled playfully. “Then I'm better off with my current arrangement. The blood of carrion can only do so much for my body and mind.”
He exchanged a look with you.
“I don't mind helping you out,” you said firmly.
Wyll sighed heavily. “Well, I do not like that arrangement one bit, but it's your blood, so it's your choice.”
As he paced towards the door after bidding his goodbyes, you hurried after him.
“I have a favour to ask.”
He arched an inquisitive brow. “What is it?”
You took a deep breath, glancing around to make sure no one could listen.
“I need to go to The Blushing Mermaid.”
Wyll's eyes widened. “The Blushing Mermaid? Why?”
“I need to talk to someone there,” you said in a whisper. “And maybe you should come, too.”
He chuckled. “My days sneaking into that tavern are long gone, my friend. It would not be suitable for the Duke of Ravengard to visit such a place.”
You shook your head, grasping his hand in a plea. “ Please . There's this woman. Astarion's… acquaintance . Ava. She is – or used to be – a monster hunter and she has been taking blood from him.”
You blurted out the words in one breath, hoping he wouldn't ask you to repeat yourself.
If there was anyone who might be able to help you with this issue, it would be Wyll. After all, his experience as a monster slayer and as the Blade of Frontiers had to account for something.
He looked positively flabbergasted. “A monster hunter… bedding a… vampire spawn?” he drawled out as if trying to make sense of your words.
That effectively struck a nerve in you. “She is not bedding him… but there is something off about her.”
“Ava you say? That name doesn't ring a bell.”
You mustered all your courage. “Please let me go talk to her… I have a feeling she might be involved in this entire mess.”
That caught his attention. “You think she's behind this? No respectable monster hunter would resort to Necromancy.”
“She's meddling with Alchemy now.”
He seemed… alarmed.
“Very well. I cannot accompany you today, but tomorrow we shall go there.”
You expected more resistance from him, and his sudden availability made you feel very wary all of a sudden.
“How bad do you think this is?”
The Fist appeared from behind Wyll, startling you. “My Lord, we ought to go. We have a council meeting to attend.”
Wyll nodded and gave your shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “Maybe it's nothing at all.”
Maybe it's nothing, but it could be anything…
As he moved out and the door closed behind him, Astarion hurried to join your side, clearing his throat.
“You two have gotten quite close.”
You scoffed at him, not in the mood for indulging in his banter.
“Well, being pleasant to others has its perks.”
Astarion smirked widely, his fangs peeking through. “I can be pleasant, darling.”
You rolled your eyes.
But it seemed that Astarion was bent on having your attention on him.
“So… sweet and righteous Wyll?”
You squinted, realising where this was headed. “Are you jealous, Astarion?”
As expected, he didn't bend easily to your taunt as he was a master at it and an equally skilled dodger.
So, he merely held his smirk, seeing through your intent.
“Can I feed on you tonight?”
Your heart skipped a beat.
Right.
He still needed to feed.
His bluntness caught you slightly off guard. “Uh… of course.”
You watched as his smile only grew wider before he leaned in to plant a quick kiss to your cheek.
Your eyes widened as the coldness of his lips parted from your skin and your mouth fell agape.
“Splendid.”
And he swiftly went back to his embroidery duties, humming some camp songs as if he hadn't just made your heart almost implode.
Across the room, you spotted Lae'zel rolling her eyes.
Astarion came to you in the dead of night.
The door to your room clicked shut behind him and you immediately felt your body react to his presence.
With only candlelight and the muted glow from the moon spilling through the uncovered windows, you realised he looked more beautiful than ever.
Your heartbeat nearly doubled as you rose from your bed, waiting for him to close the distance.
And he did.
With sure and slow steps, he came to you.
His black shirt held a new embroidery near the collar.
Exquisite needlework.
He held a faint smile as you traced the flowery lining with one finger.
“This is beautiful.”
“My fingers can make or break,” he whispered softly, his crimson eyes set on you. “Depending on what the situation requires, that is.”
You swallowed hard as his words seeped through your mind, reminding you that the man before you had experience and knowledge in matters you could only dream of achieving.
He held your chin, gently tilting your head, and your eyes fluttered shut as you waited for a kiss.
And he did kiss you.
Just not where you expected.
Or wanted.
His lips lingered on the swell of your cheek, your body already accustomed to the difference in temperature.
“I was thinking…”
He hummed, tilting your head slightly to the left, so he could mirror the kiss on the other cheek.
“You can feed on me more often, if you'd like…”
Astarion pulled back slowly, an elegant eyebrow arched. “More often?”
“Yes. If you want to, of course.”
He eyed you in disbelief, the thumb on your chin rubbing gently circles. “If I want to? Darling, if I had it my way, I would feed on you every single day.”
His words hit hard and not because the prospect of that scenario scared you.
But because you wished he would do it.
The moments when he fed on you belonged to the two of you alone.
No one could interfere in the intimacy of it.
He would not feed on anyone else but you.
And that sort of craving was easy to get addicted to.
You wanted him to want you.
To feel comfortable enough with you that he wouldn't seek anyone else.
“Maybe we can do it every other day, then?” you suggested, nearly gasping as his thumb moved up to trace your lower lip.
Astarion glared at you in silence for a moment, caressing your flesh and occasionally teasing further by pushing past your lips.
“Do you have enough scrolls of Lesser Restoration for that?”
You nodded, feeling his thumb being pushed inside.
“So, I can feed more often…” he said, eyes dropping to your mouth.
He sounded absolutely delighted and you closed your lips around him, earning a low growl of approval.
Then you let go and he moved to your lower lip once again.
“More often, but less quantity.”
He nodded with a smile. “Seems fair.”
The room was already heavy with sexual tension, and you needed to disperse it before things escalated too quickly.
“Are you still tender down there?” you asked sweetly.
“Well, there is only one way to test out if you haven't caused irreparable damage.”
Oh.
Of course.
You felt a wave of heat flush to your face at his words.
Because Astarion would get an erection eventually.
It was expected and, at this point, more than welcome.
“Go on. Make yourself comfortable,” he said, pointing to your bed.
You stared at him in confusion. He usually fed on you while standing. It was more practical and less intimate.
But then it dawned on you that maybe that was what he was aiming for.
“This one might be a long feed.”
Your expectations shattered at once and you gave him a hesitant stare, remaining rooted in place.
“Honestly, after all the times I fed on you, you still worry I might take it too far?”
“Can you blame me?”
He chuckled, placing both hands on your shoulder before planting a kiss to the back of your head.
“I suppose not, but you are free to press a stake to my chest just in case,” he said teasingly.
You picked a scroll from inside the bedside table, placing it carefully atop as it waited for the inevitable moment.
Slowly, he let go of you so you could settle back on your back, feeling the soft mattress envelop your body.
Your legs were firmly pressed together and you laced your hands in each other and on your stomach, waiting for his move.
Astarion hunched over you before shifting until his face met yours.
You felt the mattress dip under you as he got on top.
At this point, your heart was drumming so loudly in your ears, that it drowned out any other noise.
Unexpectedly, you felt his lips on yours, but before you could react, he had lowered himself until you felt his tongue swiping along the skin of your neck.
Just like clockwork, you felt a jolt of pleasure coursing through your body and lingering between your legs. You tensed up and clutched your hands together more fiercely, bracing yourself for what was to come.
The initial sting made you jolt lightly as he pushed his fangs further into you, before his lips closed around the wound and he began to suck.
The first gasp didn't take long to spill from your lips from the sound of his faint moans.
The throb between your legs continued to intensity with each passing second, and you prayed to any god above to spare you from succumbing to the lurking lust.
You felt him untangle your hands and pinning both your wrists together and above your head as he lowered himself even further.
And much to your embarrassment, your legs instinctively parted to accommodate him as he pressed further into you.
Gods… no, no, no….
This was not good at all.
Even through the fabric of your trousers, you could feel his growing erection nudging against you.
Astarion's chest rumbled in a growl of approval and you couldn't keep your hips from rolling, seeking that delicious friction.
You balled your fists as your back arched when his hips began to match yours.
No… no…
The throb in your head was nearly blinding from the blood being drained whilst the one in between your legs only intensified.
“Astarion…” you moaned through gritted teeth.
He slowed down ever so slightly, but you quickly realise it was even more torturous as you could now feel the clothed underside of his thick cock teasing between your folds.
Oh, you were not going to last long like this…
You were too hungry for him to deny yourself from reaching your peak as he fed on you.
Even as your body became weaker, you could still feel yourself walking dangerously fast to the precipice, yearning that sweet release.
“I'm going… I'm going to…” you mumbled, feeling wetness drip from you as your body readied itself for him to be inside you.
Your breathing quickened and your gasps began to merge together as his cock dug harder against you with each roll.
And just as your eyes closed shut and your mouth parted to welcome the pinnacle of your pleasure, you felt him pull back with a guttural growl.
Blood trailed down his lips and chin and neck and you nearly cried tears of overwhelming frustration as you were denied your release.
He moved to grip the scroll and shoved it into your hand.
“Say it.”
Astarion knelt in between your legs, fumbling with the lacing of his trousers, his bulge strained against the fabric and you spotted the familiar stains of precum.
“Say it…” he urged you with a growl.
But you could only stare, mesmerised at the beautiful sight of relief he let out once he managed to ease pressure that had built up.
It made your mouth water and you suddenly felt the urge to touch yourself.
“Say. It .”
As if he had just snapped you from a dream, you quickly mumbled the incantation as the scroll vanished into thin air.
Your heart was hit with newfound vigour as warmth spread throughout your body on rhythmic waves.
Astarion slid off the bed, adjusting himself through his clothes with a whine.
He looked so beautiful… ears flushed pink and a tint of a blush on his face as your blood coursed through him.
The swell and throb didn't fade and you allowed your fingers to dip slightly under the waistband, wanting nothing but release.
He eventually locked eyes with you, licking the remnants of your blood from his lips, pacing closer to you.
With a gasp, you felt him tug at the strings of your own trousers, eyes dark and pupils fully blown.
“Do what you must.”
He had loosened them just enough for your hand to slide inside, and you couldn't contain the moan that erupted from within you once the pads of your fingers brushed against the throbbing swell between your legs.
Instinctively, you began to roll your hips, feeling just how ridiculously soaked you were for him.
Your half-hooded eyes landed on his lower half, taking in the sight of the precum that had seeped through the fabric and wishing you could see his cock.
Astarion's cock always looked the prettiest after he had fed on you: all flushed pink, bulging veins snaking around his length, precum dribbling down…
But it seemed that he had no intention of granting you your wish, and you felt guilty for craving it in the first place, knowing he probably just wanted to take his time.
So you stopped your ministrations, which earned a disapproving growl from him.
“Keep going. I can hear how wet you are for me and it's music to my ears,” he whispered, before kneeling at your side. “Be a good girl… please .”
Your hips bucked at the caress from his words.
His face was so close, but his eyes were fixed on your hand that moved under your trousers, your own fingers teasing your entrance.
“You just slid one inside, didn't you?”
You bit down on your lip, nodding with a whimper as you clenched around yourself.
“Gods… you can take another one, can't you?”
Your back arched and your eyes fluttered shut. “Astarion…”
His lips ghosted yours. “Add another one…”
His voice was dripping with lust and it was all the incentive you needed to push a second one inside.
You tried to remember how his cock felt inside you. How full you always felt and how much cum he spilled inside you.
Your fingers were no match for him.
He felt so much better…
How you wished he would replace your fingers with his, going knuckle-deep and drawing out the most desperate moans and pleas from you.
He finally pressed his now warm lips against yours and you eagerly deepened the kiss, tasting your blood on his tongue.
You kept riding your own fingers and you nearly whimpered as his hand came to rest on your forearm, thumb caressing your heated skin.
He broke the kiss not long after and your eyes snapped open as you were about to voice a complaint.
Astarion was on his feet again, fingers expertly tying the front of his trousers once again, drawing a pained hiss as his hard cock was once again strained.
You whimpered in response, rolling your hips desperately as your fingers edged you closer and closer.
“It's frustrating, isn't it?” he asked as he finished working on the lacing, crushing your hopes of seeing his cock leaking precum for you.
“Now you know how it feels..." he said, a devious smile crossing his face. "Besides, I still wonder if this is what friends do."
Your jaw slacked open as a gasp mixed with a whine escaped your lips from his taunting words.
No. No. No...
"See, you never gave me an answer, darling."
You removed your fingers from deep within you with a long and pained whine on the verge of tears.
"I'll leave you to figure it out, then."
Before you could voice a protest, he slipped out of the room quickly, and you vaguely wondered if he had been there at all if not more the ache between your legs and the fresh puncture wounds in your neck.
Fuck.
TBC
series masterlist . ao3
#astarion smut#astarion x female reader#astarion x tav#astarion x you#astarion x female tav#astarion x f!tav#astarion x f!reader
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