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badgalsasuke · 2 months ago

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My thoughts on the Naruto ending

So I had said I was gonna post about my feelings and thoughts regarding the Naruto finale that might contain a few hot takes for some people, so here it is.

THIS IS GONNA BE A LONG POST.

The Naruto ending is universally disliked, there's not doubt in that. Veteran SNS shippers don't like it because Naruto and Sasuke end up with women they don't love and aren't attracted to, and believe Naruto and Sasuke could've end up "single" with no ships confirmed; younger SNS shippers that weren't there when Naruto was still coming out believe they should've ended up together even though that could have not been plausible due to the manga industry quite conservative practices. Het!shippers on the other hand, believe the ending is bad for two different reasons: the first being that some believe that Narusaku and Sasukarin would've made more sense than SS and NH (some say just Narusaku and Sasuke should've stayed single); the second being that although they like SS and NH and the potential they believe these ships have "but wasn't explored further", Kishimoto can't write romance so he messed up both ships, making them bland and barely romantic.

Another reason why the ending is disliked for non-shipping reasons and mostly by Sasuke stans, is that even though in the couple chapters before the 700th one Naruto and Sasuke talk about changing the shinobi system, we see in Boruto that the system has not been changed at all and instead Naruto and Sasuke are reinforcing it despite all the oppression and suffering they were put through it in its name. We even see Itachi, the man who committed genocide being lauded as a hero for his actions and zero reflection on Konoha as a genocidal State. Oh and the Hyuga clan still practices slavery.

So here I come to say the following: Naruto's ending makes sense.

Now before y'all tear me to pieces let me explain myself. The first time I read the finale I thought it was stupid, one reason being that the ships make no sense no matter the angle you try to look at them and the other reason being that Sasuke was now working for the same State that murdered his clan with Naruto now as the head of that same State and making no changes to the Shinobi system (not a very good look on him, right?), so I thought for many years that the ending sucked.

Then The Last, Boruto and Sasuke Retsuden came out and all I could think was "woah this is all really shit from the butt".

But then one day when I was thinking about the manga as a whole, mostly because I was starting to realize that Kishimoto was being intentional in his writing of Naruto and Sasuke's romantic bond and it wasn't accidental like most of the fandom thinks, I just started connecting dots and trying to make sense of the whole story and seeing how the ending fitted into that. I'm someone that whenever it comes to literary analysis and criticism always tries to think about what was the author intention before I label something as bad because it wasn't my personal preference how something was written.

And that's how I realized what there was theme to the Naruto ending is. It's all about conformity.

Now, don't get me wrong the Naruto ending still has flaws, two big ones in my opinion, which I'll point out further down the post, but what I want to do is show you the forest because I feel the fandom is mostly focused on a couple of trees when it comes to the finale. I want you to see the thread of events Kishimoto created and how he was trying to keep it as in character as possible.

So first things first. If you've read Kishimoto interviews over the years then you would know what was the ending he had envisioned: chapter 698. He talks about how he wanted Naruto and Sasuke to have their final fight, make ammends and change the shinobi system together. He achieved two out those three things he intended.

In a quite controversial interview that most of the fandom likes to ignore, Kishimoto stated that he had no emotional attachement to Naruto and Hinata as a couple and it was Studio Pierrot who had pitched the whole thing about The Last movie. He also states that he decided to make NH endgame after Shippuden had started and he had also considered Narusaku as well, but then in another interview that came later he started saying he had intended to make NH canon since the very beginning. He was constantly contradicting himself in these interviews over the years. Kishimoto has also expressed his distate for SS and Sakura's character in general in different interviews.

So what I personally believe is that Kishimoto's editorial, Shueisha, made him change his statements because saying he had no plans for NH and it was Studio Pierrot idea was quite damaging to the franchise (no wonder the interview got kinda buried too, lol).

I think the biggest challenge for Kishimoto was giving the editorial, the studio and most of the fandom the het!ships they wanted without compromising as much the characters the story of his manga revolves around, Naruto and Sasuke.

So we get to ch. 699 where I believe Kishimoto is laying the ground for the finale we ended up getting.

In ch. 698 it seemed like Naruto and Sasuke had been able to resolve their issues and been able to talk about their feelings for each other. Something Sasuke repeats in ch. 699, a chapter entirely narrated by him. However right at the end of ch. 699 we get what seems to be a regression of what we had seen in the previous chapter.

It is implied that Naruto and Sasuke had an argument off-screen hence why Sasuke thought Naruto would not come to see him and bid him farewell before his atonement journey. What was the argument about is never really explained, some fans speculate Naruto was upset about Sasuke going on an atonement journey considering Naruto had pleaded for Sasuke to not be imprisoned and saw no reason for Sasuke to go on a redemption trip. I personally believe it had something to do with Naruto failing to come to terms with his feelings for Sasuke because, as we see right away, Naruto gives Sasuke back his headband and Sasuke says he'll keep it until they have their real fight which is interesting, to say the least, because didn't we just see their real fight the literal prior chapter? basically, we're being told Naruto and Sasuke haven't been able to truly talk about their feelings and put into words what their relationship really is about hence why Sasuke keeps the headband. As long as Sasuke has the headband, it will mean Naruto hasn't been able to truly accept what he feels for Sasuke. In essence, ch. 699 is Kishimoto retconning ch. 698 to give way to what comes later.

After chapter 700 came out we started getting so much content, both filler and canon, that tries to explain how we got there. Let's start with The Last, the movie that tries to explain how the heck Naruto ended up with Hinata.

The Last is sort of a hybrid, it's written for the most part by Studio Pierrot employees who had the idea in the first place and Kishimoto corrected a few things here and there and is also what for me, makes the ending flawed for one big reason: Naruto's character assassination.

Naruto is a shonen manga that's more focused and concerned on it's emotional battles and communicates it to the audience through it's physical battles rather than the powerscaling stuff Naruto dudebros would have you thinking the manga is actually about. So this means that Naruto, its main character, spends the entire manga learning about his feelings and putting them into words. That's what his story is mainly about; learning to love and to be loved.

The Last undoes this in the stupidest way possible. To give Naruto an excuse on why he always ignored Hinata they intend to make the audience believe it's because "Naruto doesn't know what love is" by writing Naruto not being able to differentiate between loving someone and liking ramen. This is absolute nuts. We know that Naruto understands what is love, what is not love and that love doesn't come out of nowhere, we see that when Sakura fake confesses to Naruto, he's able to spot right away she's not being genuine because he understands those three things. So this is the first flaw of the Naruto ending for me.

The second flaw is the dismissal of Kurama and Naruto's status as a Jinchuuriki. I find the most embarrasing thing about The Last to be that they had to put Naruto through a genjutsu so he could hallucinate "memories of Hinata being there for him but he was too dumb to notice" but it's even worse once you remember that Naruto canonically should not be able to be put through a genjutsu in the first place. Studio Pierrot had to break rules of Kishimoto's universe in order to give NH some mediocre development and to me this will always be the worst part of the finale. If you can't make a ship work within the universe rules, then why make it a thing at all?

Some people didn't like that Hinata is totally useless in the movie, but for me this is not a flaw, as it is entirely in character with who she is in the manga. Making her a mary sue out of nowhere on the other hand, would be a flaw of the story.

Now that I've talked about what I think are the flaws of the Naruto ending, let's talk about the things that work in The Last (and I believe is where Kishimoto put his input) to make the finale make sense. The first one being that Sakura is the one that pushes Naruto to be with Hinata. In the manga we see several times Sakura is insecure about Naruto and Sasuke's bond and being jealous of Naruto's spot in Sasuke's heart. Even Hinata is baffled by Sakura wanting to help her and asks her why she's doing all that because she knows they're not friends. We then see Sakura think about Sasuke (who's also conviniently excluded from the movie) and simply say "we, girls, should support each other", she wants Naruto out of the picture so she can have Sasuke for herself and she succeeded. It's also important to note that once Sakura got what she wanted she no longer pretended to be a friend of Hinata, she didn't even kept close contact with Naruto either as we see in Naruto Gaiden, Sarada and Naruto don't know each other like that at all, if Sakura was being a genuine friend to Hinata and Naruto, she would've kept her family close to Naruto's but she didn't.

One more thing that I find works about The Last is that Naruto doesn't passionately fall in love with Hinata, but instead is constantly guilt-tripped into liking her, which is more true to his character. You have a man already struggling to accept his sexuality, who also has his deceased mother's expectation of marrying a girl and on top of that is a pathological people pleaser, of course he's gonna marry the first girl that tells him she loves him. It makes sense this all happened while Sasuke was not in the village. Naruto panicked about his sexual identity and rushed to marry an "acceptable woman" in the eyes of the people whose approval he craves, as we see in the special chapter Kishimoto wrote that came out after The Last: the villagers fawning over Konoha's hero dating the Hyuga heiress.

Likewise, Sasuke not attending Naruto's wedding helps the ending not be as contrived or out of character of them. Kishimoto never wrote anything on why Sasuke skipped the wedding as far as I can recall, but in the episodes that Studio Pierrot made dedicated to Naruto's wedding we see a Sasuke completely absent and detached from the event, something Naruto dudebros use to dunk on him because that made him a terrible friend from their perspective, but as usual they're not paying attention to the full narrative Kishimoto is creating here.

Making Sasuke be happy for Naruto and attend his wedding and give him a gift and all that crap, would've made het!shippers and Naruto dudebros happy but it would be at the expense of his character and the story Kishimoto was writing. Remember, Sasuke had kept the headband all these time until he could have his real fight with Naruto, meaning he was waiting for Naruto to be honest about his feelings for him, so him not attending Naruto's wedding is a way to communicate to the audience (at least the part that's paying attention) that Sasuke is heartbroken by the news.

I believe this is why Kishimoto designed adult Sasuke the way he did and makes him dress the way he does as an adult. All black and depressing. I also believe that Sasuke will stop dressing that way the minute he and Naruto have their real fight, if they ever have it, that is.

Additionally, Kishimoto nailed making NH canon before SS would be canon. Naruto, as I stated before, is the one that struggles with his identity and feelings for Sasuke and the one that has the expectations to marry a woman so it makes sense that he would be the one to marry a woman first. SS becoming canon first wouldn't make sense because not only is Sasuke more outspoken about his contempt for Sakura, whereas Naruto remains polite and neutral to Hinata's feelings, but Sasuke also has no reason to be with Sakura if Naruto is still available, in fact, Kishimoto making Sakura be the one to chase Sasuke after Naruto's wedding because Sasuke never came back, as we see it stated in Naruto Gaiden ch. 10, is also in character for both Sasuke and Sakura, instead of writing it the other way around like SS shippers wished, y'know their whole thing about Sasuke coming back to the village for Sakura and apologizing to her because he didn't realize how much he actually loved her because he was trapped in the darkness blah blah blah (I think this is what happens in filler novel Sasuke shinden lol).

If Naruto is not available, then Sasuke is in a very emotionally vulnerable position and Sakura took advantage of that. You see the narrative Kishimoto is creating here? There's a thread to follow on why stuff happened they way it did.

Now, I mentioned before that the theme of the Naruto finale was conformity. Here's where I explain how:

The first thing is Naruto's physical appearance. Kishimoto liked to draw a young Naruto all punk and grunge. He even had already made a design of adult Naruto where Naruto looks, well, cool and HOT.

Yet, for the actual finale he gave us an ugly Naruto, but also a Naruto that looks tired and exhausted. How does this tie with the conformity theme? when Naruto was young he used to go against the rules, defy expectations people had of him, tell authorities to fuck off. Like, when he was told to give up on Sasuke when he was 12, Naruto responded "If giving up on Sasuke makes me wise, I'd rather be fool my entire life", this man was a rebel. But as an adult we see him become the head of State that continues to reproduce the status quo that had once oppressed him. Naruto turned apathetic, his appearance reflects his attitude.

And this is consistent with the narrative Kishimoto's been crafting. Just in the same way Naruto conformed to society's expectation when he married a woman he doesn't love and barely knows, he also conformed and succumbed to the shinobi world status quo. It would *make zero sense* for Naruto to revolutionize the shinobi world while married to princess slaver Hinata Hyuga, that'd be an oxymoron, completely contradictory narrative wise. Certainly, Naruto always struggled to find an ideology, to put it in some way, when it came to Konoha and its ninjas practices and had a messed up perception of its villagers (see: the whole Dark Naruto mini plot) but he still wanted to change the shinobi world WITH SASUKE by his side, once the story established they don't end up together and Sasuke isn't by his side, Naruto doesn't care anymore.

This is why I don't find strange that Kishimoto wrote Naruto oversleeping in the eve of his name day as Hokage, a day Naruto had once dreamt about when he was a child. The spark is gone.

But the spark isn't just gone for Naruto, it's also gone for Kishimoto. Naruto didn't even attend his name day because he was knocked out by Himawari. This is Kishimoto being petty. He spent 15 years writing a story where the goal was to see Naruto become Hokage and he knew how anticipated this moment was and he still went and ruined it for the fans anyway. Naruto dudebros were furious about this, but not once did they stop to wonder about the implications of this, what it said about Kishimoto's relationship with his work if it had gotten to the point he went and "fucked it up".

Naruto cared about the state of the world before he became indifferent to it. This is why when Sasuke stans complain about Naruto not actually caring about Sasuke's trauma but can never really explain why Naruto is like that as an adult. They try to pretend Naruto never cared but this is a lie, kid and teenage Naruto was compassionate to Sasuke's trauma and pain even if he didn't always managed it in the best way possible. So, I always feel like they're missing this particular piece of the puzzle: if Naruto can't be his true self then he cannot change the world and neither can Sasuke.

Because the same thing occurs to Sasuke. One blog once posted that Sasuke not caring about his child is out of character, but Sasuke not caring about Sakura's child is very much in character and I feel that sums up Kishimoto's writing of both adult Sasuke and Naruto. This passiveness you wouldn't imagine from their younger selves, takes a hold of them once they become adults and gradually "get in line" to be a part of the real world. Sasuke doesn't care about his child because he had her with a woman he doesn't even like or respect. Sasuke is stuck in time still holding onto that headband, hoping he and Naruto will one day have their real battle.

Sasuke uses the forehead poke, a gesture he always hated, on his wife and child because he, just like his brother to him, wants to distance himself from them. Sasuke now serves the same village that plotted the mass murder of his clan and family because why not? his brother is lauded as a hero for killing his entire clan after all. Sasuke too, has conformed.

I actually wonder if this is in some way linked to modern Japanese culture. Japanese culture and society are deeply conformist with everybody is always trying to fulfill roles imposed in them, always trying to achieve what is expected of them. It could also be about how adulthood sucks the passion and hopes out of the youth (Kishimoto started writing Naruto when he was 24 and finished when he was in his forties). And of course, the closeting of queer people leading miserable lives as pretenders.

If Sasuke is meant to end up with Sakura and Naruto is meant to end up with Hinata then Kishimoto cannot make them happy marriages and give them happy families, he also cannot keep Naruto and Sasuke as revolutionary outcasts that stand up against the status quo, that fanservice would be out of character and out of theme.

This is what I mean when I say the ending makes sense, once you see the finale is all about conformity the thread of events becomes understandable and more heartbreaking too. You don't have to like it, but I do think we have to understand where is Kishimoto coming from when he wrote it the way he did.

The Naruto fandom wanted black and grey from Kishimoto and that's exactly what Kishimoto gave them, black and grey.

EDIT: I've written more on how the conformity theme starts to become present in the series as far back as in Neji's death, check it out HERE

#my thoughts on this fuckass ending #narusasu #sasunaru #anti sasusaku #anti naruhina #anti naruto ending #I guess

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peachdues · 11 months ago

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TOXIC

LEVI X READER

A/N: a combination of the horny angst that’s been swirling in my head for a few days.

Listen. Do I condone what’s about to happen in this? No. Was it fun to write? Absolutely.

CW: MDNI • explicit sexual content below • toxic fucking • unprotected/raw sex • creampie • breeding kink • fucking does not solve problems • neither do babies • toxic Levi and toxic Reader tbh

This was a bad idea. Terrible; one of your worst to date.

And yet, as Levi spread you out across his kitchen counter — the counter that, until two weeks ago, had also been yours — you couldn’t for the life of you remember why every alarm bell in your head was sounding off, begging your body stiffen, to reject the man lowering himself between your thighs, his gray eyes glowing nearly silver with desire.

“Just can’t stay away, can you?” His lips are hot and silky as they slope messily across your thighs, and his fingers push aside the hem of your sundress to make way for him. “Because try as you might, you know no one will ever be able to fuck you like I can.”

Ah. That was why.

Because you and Levi had broken up. You were no more; a past concept, a memory.

In the end, your three-year relationship died not in a fiery blaze of glory, but in cold resignation. He’d sat stoically at the kitchen table as you’d confessed that you could no longer stomach being second or third or whatever place behind his true passion — work — and that it was time for you to put yourself first, for once, since he wouldn’t.

The only sign of his emotion has been his fists — clenched so tight that the skin of his knuckles had gone white.

I’m done. I have nothing left to give you, Levi. Not when you only ever take and offer nothing in return.

He’d tried to argue once you announced your intention to move out that night. He’d fought to convince you to wait until morning, to put away the small suitcase you’d packed with your most essential belongings, to sleep on it — on the decision overall. But you’d known that if you’d stayed, you would have changed your mind — would’ve let him change your mind, and he’d known that, too. So you’d held firm, turned your back on him and forced yourself to walk out of the door to your apartment, suitcase in hand.

You hadn’t intended to return, and it seemed like he’d accepted it. He’d even gone so far as to mail whatever of your belongings you hadn’t managed to pack to your parents’ address. So though you spent your nights staining your pillow with bitter tears, your heart feeling like little more than a misshapen lump of meat barely beating in your chest, you’d at least gotten what you thought you’d wanted: a clean break.

Until he’d texted you that all of your mail was still being sent to your — his — address. He’d offered to pay to have it forwarded to you, but when you saw how much that would have put you in his debt, you’d begrudgingly told him you’d stop by on your way home from work and pick it up.

Really, you knew better; should have known better, at least.

And perhaps your logic would have won over your desire, but then Levi’s fingers tug your underwear to the side and his mouth latches to your core, and all the chatter that constitutes your higher reasoning fades to an indiscernible buzz in the back of your skull. The moment you feel something hot and wet prodding your entrance, your mind whites out without the hope of coherency returning any time soon, as Levi begins to fuck you with his tongue.

With a keening cry, your legs seize around his head, trapping him between your thighs. Your hands shoot to grip his hair, desperate to find purchase; to find anything to help keep you tethered here, to reality, rather than risk floating away in clouded bliss.

But Levi is too committed to tearing down the wall you’d carefully spent the last two weeks building, brick by brick. So as his tongue pumps steadily into your core, he shifts, his fingers digging into the meat of your thighs as he presses you harder against his face. His jaw works furiously and when his teeth graze against your clit, you lose whatever last vestige of control you’d clung onto.

You’re sobbing through clenched teeth but utterly helpless to stop your hips as they begin churning and grinding against his mouth. Levi hums in approval, and throw your eyelashes, you spot the way his pupils dilate, chasing away the cool silver of his irises and replacing them with something black and hungry.

“Atta girl,” he praises between his thrusts, and the vibrations of his mouth against your heated, sensitive flesh nearly makes you drool. “For once in your life, stop fuckin’ thinking.”

He swirls his tongue around you entrance one more time before he replaces it with his fingers, plunging two into your cunt and curling them. He finds that rough patch on your innermost wall with a near frustrating ease.

It’s infuriating to know that the person you know can’t give you what you really need is somehow the only person who knows exactly how to give you what you want. And, judging by the faint smirk pulling at Levi’s lips they latch around that bundle of nerves at the apex of your thighs, you know he can see your resolve crumbling under his feverish mouth.

“You don’t even remember why we were arguing, do you?” He jeers between harsh sucks at your clit as you continue to writhe and cry out for more. “You just wanted to cause a scene; make me sweat a little.”

You want to fight back; you want to tell him that he’s wrong, that you’d meant it when you’d said your relationship had run its course, but he won’t give you the space to do so. Not when he presses his face firm against your center and rocks his head side to side, reducing any protestations you might have had to pitiful whimpers.

“You’ve got my attention, sweetheart. Let’s see if you know what to do with it.”

Levi slips a third finger into your core and you come undone. With his teeth grazing your clit in time with each measured thrust of his fingers into your heat, you shatter against the kitchen counter, hard enough that stars dance in the corners of your eyes.

“That’s my girl,” Levi groans as he continues to lap at your sensitive and overstimulated flesh. “You’re always so fuckin’ pretty when you cum.”

His praise, coupled with the way his mouth continues to work at your cunt prolongs the waves of your release, until your legs are trembling against the smooth granite of the countertop, and tears are gathered in your eyes. Your walls spasm weakly one final time and then it’s over, your limbs limp and your brain little more than a puddle of liquid between your ears.

Levi steps back and the heat in his eyes is unmistakable; you know, by the way his eyes turn from steel to molten ore that he wants more; wants to take and take and make you bend to him.

You shouldn’t do it; you know you shouldn’t. You know that what’s happening between you is a manifestation of everything that was toxic about your relationship. Levi, always needing to be in control, who only listened when you were at your breaking point, but could never fully give you what you needed. You, who made far too many excuses, who let him dictate the norms of your relationship because it was easy; being with him was easy, until it wasn’t.

So no, you shouldn’t give in; you should stand firm.

You reach for him anyways. “Levi,”

That’s all it takes; a pleading whimper of his name, your hands outstretched toward him, and Levi pounces. His mouth crashes against yours, and his kiss makes you feel whole even though you know he’s tearing your resolve apart.

And you let him; you let him, because you’d sworn you were going to spend your life with him. You believed, without a moment’s hesitation, that Levi was the one for you — the one you’d share the remainder of your days with, the one with whom you’d create and share a family. It was all you’d wanted, and Levi, to his credit, had assured you it was what he’d wanted, too. At least, he did; once.

And, as Levi’s hands slide under you to peel you off the counter, your legs locking around his waist with practiced ease, you know it’s what you still want; he’s what you want.

For all your desperation to have him, Levi is just as eager for you. He pivots you away from the counter, lips still moving heatedly against yours, only to drop you both to the cold tile floor, spreading you out beneath him as his lips begin trailing down your jaw, your neck. He’s too impatient to carry you to the bedroom, his hands fumbling with the buckle on his belt so he can have you then, now, on the kitchen floor.

“‘S been too long,” he pushes the straps of your sundress from your shoulders, yanking the bodice down to expose your. He groans at the sight of your bare breasts, and idly you wonder whether you made the subconscious decision to forgo your bra when you dressed that morning, in the event you’d end up here, under him.

His mouth closes around one pert nipple and you think it was the best decision you could have made; for nothing could possibly feel as right as the sensation of his hot mouth and silken tongue swirling around your soft flesh, nipping and sucking his devotion into your skin.

Your chest is heaving as his hands stroke down your body, pushing and pulling the skirt of your dress up, exposing the lower half of your body. Your legs are still little more than jelly thanks to the intensity of your previous climax, but you manage to wrap them around his hips all the same, clenching in an effort to bring him closer.

“Fuck,” he growls, and he imparts one final nip at your breast before he pulls back, his hands hurriedly shoving the waistband of his trousers and briefs down his hips, just far enough that he can pull his cock free. Your stomach flutters at the sight of him, ramrod hard, his tip already leaking with his desire.

He’s just as desperate for you as you are hopelessly in need of him.

Your eyes trace back up from where his length stands hard against his belly back to his face. A pretty pink blush has flushed his cheeks, spreading down his neck and chest, and his eyes are glassy with want.

“Levi,” you plead with a soft moan. “Baby, please —“

Baby. You hadn’t called him that often while you were together, but when you had, it was because you’d been so filled with affection — with love — that his name hadn’t been enough.

It was a slip, but it doesn’t go unnoticed by your ex. In an instant his body is covering yours, and he’s moaning into your mouth as one hand ensnares itself in your hair. Between quick kisses, you swear you hear him whisper your name against your lips, before his tongue swipes back in and steals your breath away.

He breaks your kiss to shove a hand between your bodies, gripping himself at his base and giving his length one, solid pump. You shift, spreading your thighs wider, ready to take him and feel whole once more.

He lines the tip of his cock up with your entrance and pauses. Impatiently, you buck your hips forward, trying to take him in, but he twists back just far enough that your wetness can only brush against him, a mockery of how you truly need him.

Levi ignores your howl of frustration. “If you want it, then tell me you’ll come home.”

Your teeth clench hard enough to crack, but you won’t give in; not yet, at least.

He’d been right; you wanted him to sweat a little, and damn if you weren’t going to try and bring him to his knees, if only for a bit. At least until he had you back in the palm of his hand, begging for a crumb of his attention.

So with a gritty determination that borders spite, you lock your ankles against his backside and haul him into you with all your might.

“Jesus — fuck!” His yell echoes off the gleaming stainless steel appliances as you force him fully inside you, unwilling to let him win this battle so soon. He falls forward, an arm flinging out beside your head to catch himself.

Your boldness pays off, for Levi is forced remain still, panting hard and his eyes screwed shut as he adjusts to the sensation of being fully buried in your warmth after so long. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see the way the muscles in the arm needed by your head ripples under the force of his restraint. Slowly, his eyes open and the darkness in them makes you pulse and contract around his length, your stomach fluttering in anticipation.

Your mouth falls into a perfect “o” as he begins to move once more. He sits back on his knees, back straight, and his hands come to rest on your hips. He tugs you up just enough that your backside rests against the tops of his thighs, your back forced into an arch away from the floor. His gaze drops to where you’re connected, your base pressed flush against his, and the sight of himself embedded so deeply inside you makes the fingers on your hips tighten.

Slowly, and with careful precision, he withdraws his cock from your heat until only his tip remains lodged in your entrance. His eyes flick to yours and then he slams back into you, forcing your breath from your lungs. He repeats the movement again and again, until your lower lip is wobbling and your fingers are sinking into the corded muscles of his forearms, unable to do anything but cling on as he hammers into you.

The stillness of the kitchen is soon disrupted by the telltale sounds of skin slapping against skin, punctuated by your breathy moans and Levi’s pants. Between the sharpness of his hips and the cold tile of the kitchen floor, you know you’re likely to walk away from this with bruises, but you can’t find it within yourself to care. Especially not when Levi is moving like this, each of his thrusts as punishing as they are calculated.

“What’d I say, huh? No one can fuck you like I can.”

Levi more often than not was a soft lover. Kind; generous; prone to taking his time with you, so much so that it was nearly painful, usually leaving you in a tearful puddle on your mattress, begging him for more.

But now, he’s trying to remind you of what you’re leaving behind by leaving him; he’s punishing you as much as he’s begging you to stay.

The thought makes you moan out, wanton and desperate, and the walls of your cunt clench harder around him.

His hips snap harshly against yours, choking off the sound in your throat. “So come back home,” and though you know he means for it to sound like an order, his eyes betray his urgency, his desperation to confirm that you hadn’t really meant it; that you’d given up on him in a moment of stress and exhaustion. “Quit being a brat and come home.”

You want to tell him you can’t — that the door had closed on your relationship the moment you’d pulled it shut behind you that day, but try as you might, the words will not form. All that spills from your mouth are broken utterances of his name, and even those flatten out into pathetic whines as Levi’s callused thumb finds your clit and begins to work, determined to haul you to the edge of your sanity and shove you over.

Your legs spasm around his waist as you begin your ascent to that sacred precipice. Your eyes are rolled back, your head thrashing from side to side as the pleasure, white hot and searing, mounts within you, that coil in your belly winding tight with every impassioned movement of his body against yours.

Distantly, you feel his hold on your hips tighten, and you can feel his thrusts growing sloppy. You know it’s only a matter of time before one of you succumbs to your release.

He growls your name, the last syllable tapering off in a small whine. “T-tell me — fuck — tell me where.”

Your eyes fly open and meet his, sobering awareness washing over you like a tidal wave.

Only once in the entire course of your relationship, did Levi ask where he was allowed to cum: the beginning. He’d asked the very first time you’d slept with him, legs in the air and over his shoulders, and once you’d made it clear you were on birth control, that had been the end of the discussion. You’d known that if you’d changed your mind, all you’d needed to do was tell him, and he’d adjust. Truthfully, however, you’d not minded the possibility of your birth control failing; you’d been content to let whatever happen, happen.

You’d told him as much, and he’d told you he shared the sentiment.

But that was then; this time, he’s giving you an out. A way to make sure this remains a one-time thing, a moment of weakness between two people too lost and broken to want anything different.

Levi’s eyes widen as the silence stretches between you, and his hips slow until he stops moving all together. The friction mounting where you’re connected is nearly unbearable, and you know the only way to relieve it is to give him an answer — whatever it may be.

This was it; the decision that will make or break you both. For once, he’s out the ball entirely in your court, and whatever comes after this moment of bliss — or frality — ends depends entirely upon you.

“Inside,” you barely manage to squeak, eyes wide and locked unwaveringly with his.

Even Levi hesitates. “Y/N —“

“Inside,” you repeat with slightly more conviction. “Cum inside me, Levi.”

“Your pill?” His hips have already resumed their pace, and you can feel how he’s grown harder at your insistence. But though his body is already moving in accord with your demand, his eyes look ready to bulge out of his skull when you manage the smallest shake your head.

“Inside.” You beg again, and you dig your heel harder into the steely muscle of his backside, limiting how far he’s able to pull his hips back; to pull out at all.

Because damn if he isn’t the only person in the world with whom you could fathom facing the consequences of fucking raw without even the safety net of the tiny blue pills still sitting at your pharmacy, waiting.

“Fuck,” he growls through clenched teeth, a tendon in his neck throbbing. “Fuck, you want me to give you a baby? So fuckin’ be it. As long as you’ll stay.”

He shifts over you, planting one foot on the ground so he can use his thigh to pin one of your legs back and to the side. His hand shoves under your other thigh, mimicking the position of your other leg as he mounts you, his full weight pressing you harder into the floor and keeping you spread wide for him.

Gone was the calculated precision of his earlier thrusts; now, Levi only presses his groin firmly against yours as he begins to rut, each rock of his hips pushing his length impossibly deeper into your slick warmth.

A cracked moan of his name signals that the blunt tip of his cock has brushed up against that spot within you that Levi knows will have you coming apart in minutes. And so, with a feral gleam sparking to life in his eyes, he shifts himself to press the head of his cock firmly against it, his hips rolling hard enough into you that you begin moving in time with him, your hips lifting up from the floor only to be pushed back by him as he works.

His balls are heavy against the underside of your ass as he continues to rut into you. You know he’s close when you feel him begin to twitch inside you, and the anticipation of being filled by him — so hot and sweet — makes the walls of your cunt clench harder around him.

If you thought you were a mess before, the way Levi mounts you on the floor has you nearly screaming with pleasure, so electric and blinding that all sights of the kitchen fade to white, and your eyes flutter shut.

But Levi won’t allow you to check out; not now, not ever.

“Look at me.” His free hand grabs your jaw in an attempt to force you to meet his eyes. You want to give him what he wants, but it’s far too difficult, what with the way yours are glued to the back of your skull, a thin line of drool leaking from the corner of your mouth.

“L-Levi,” you try and plead, to explain. But he has always demanded more of you than you knew how to give.

“Look at me.” His fingers squeeze your cheeks, insistent. “If you want my baby, then you’re gonna look at me while you cum.”

He’s doing it to prove a point — to prove that he still has control over you, over whatever it is that remains between you. And you, helpless against the whims of your heart, let him have it, because you love him.

Fuck. You love him.

You force your eyelids open to meet his punishing stare, and then his lips are crashing down against yours in a fiery clash of lips and teeth as both of you fight to consume the other. But you lose first, breaking your kiss to cry out as your climax slams into you with the force of a freight train, knocking your breath clean from your lungs.

It’s powerful; the most powerful orgasm you’ve had in memory, one that sends your back arching sharply up from the cool kitchen tile below, and pulls a howl of Levi’s name from your mouth.

You’re still straddled among the clouds of your pleasure when Levi succumbs to his own. His body tenses for a moment and then he’s coming undone, his hips giving one last, mighty push before he explodes.

He cums with a strangled groan that he silences by searing his mouth against your neck, his teeth sinking into your skin as he pulses within you.

You don’t try to stop the pleasured grin that forms on your mouth, nor the contented hums which vibrate in your chest as you hold him close to you, savoring the feeling of being warm and full of him.

You know you might regret the decision later; but there, spread out across his — your — kitchen floor, Levi’s full weight bearing down upon you as he continues to flood you with his release, you can’t help but feel that maybe this wasn’t the toxic choice at all. Perhaps this is simply a manifestation of everything that is good in your life.

Good. That’s what you decide to tell yourself as you feel Levi’s lips press sleepily against your neck. This is good; this is right.

Because this — he — is your home.

#attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #levi ackerman #aot #aot x reader #aot fanfiction #aot smut #levi x reader #levi aot #snk levi #captain levi #levi x you #attack on titan fanfiction

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temporarywelcome · 3 months ago

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Jezebel - James Patrick March

Word Count: 3.8k

Summary: Being in an arranged marriage with James March, but he's already completely smitten with his new wife, despite the fact he knows she plans on killing him. Hey, it's kind of hot.

WARNINGS: some swearing, some violence, death, sexual implications but no smut

A/N: they're so Gomez and Morticia. They match each other's freak. Yes, I used the vows from the Corpse Bride.

___________

James March was a very interesting man.

The way he carried himself as if he had no care in the world was enticing. He radiated confidence and grace, and was, well, an overall attractive man.

And he was to be her husband. A fiance she never even met till tonight.

It was 1923, a time where this “dating” thing was becoming popular, yet here the two of them were, meeting three weeks before their planned wedding. March was slowly becoming wealthier and wealthier, but his mother demanded he be wed, with a woman to take care of his estate while he did his business. Someone to care for him when she would eventually meet her own unfortunate demise.

And so his mother found Y/N L/N, a pure beauty that many men oggled over obsessively. She was young, single, and his mother just could sense the compatibility when she saw Y/N’s lovely picture. Her son would love this girl.

Except there was more to Y/N than meets the eye.

Sitting at the dinner table, James eyed her in curiosity. “Did you come here from a funeral, darling?” he asked cheekily, his usual charming grin etched onto his face.

She looked up from her plate, raising a perfectly penciled in brow, “Why yes, actually,”

He scratched the back of his neck, not expecting that answer. He had just meant to make a light-hearted joke about her attire: the long, ruffled black dress and hat to match in color, adorned with black and burgundy feathers. To accompany the clothing were sleek black gloves, lace along the wrist area. “Oh dear, my apologies. I hope I have not offended you.”

“No no,” she waved a hand dismissively, “It was not for anyone I knew,”

“Oh?” Now he was intrigued, taking a sip of his wine, the same color of her plump lips, “Then why would you attend such an event?”

“Death excites me,” she replied, and he was sure he had fallen in love right then and there, “As well as I find grief interesting to no end,”

“Interesting?” the man asked, smitten beyond compare, “What is so interesting about grief, my dear?”

Her lips curled into a devious smile, “How everyone grieves differently. Some cry, others laugh, some don’t give a damn. What I find the most hilarious is people establishing relationships. At a funeral of all places!”

“Horrid indeed isn’t it?” he asked with a chuckle.

“It is! A splendid horror!” Y/N nodded in agreement.

March watched as she expertly cracked open a crab leg, impressed in her abilities to do so without juices exploding everywhere. “You’re a stunning woman, you know?”

She looked at him from her meal and that devious smirk appeared once again, “And you’re a very handsome man, Mr. March,”

“Tell me, dearest, how old are you? Have you ever wed before?”

It looked like she had to think about it, which March thought nothing of at the time, already completely smitten. “Twenty-eight,” she replied, “And yes, I have,”

“You have? And what had become of that marriage?”

“All three were tragedies,” she replied, bringing a piece of crab to her mouth with a fork. Three?! “I’ve sadly been widowed three times. A black widow, you might call me.”

Three marriages that ended in the death of her spouse? March doubted this was any bit coincidental. “What an unfortunate event! On all three accounts! How did these poor souls die?”

“Ah, all different ways. My first had a heart attack. The second, I still think to be my true love, committed suicide. Not because of me, of course, as he explained why in his letter. The third, he… he was tragically murdered one night,”

Oh how intriguing of a woman she was! March asked, “Murdered! In what way?”

“His throat was slashed,” she answered, “And he was drained of his blood.” Y/N then took a sip of her wine, not at all bothered by the fact.

James March smirked, placing his chin on his palm as he stared at her. Oh, how infatuated he was. He was sure those death were not as she said they were. He was sure she had something to do with it.

And he was sure as hell that if he married her, he would be her next target.

Oh, what a lovely woman he was so willing to marry!

________

The next three weeks went by in a blur.

Y/N would wake up to endless gifts being left at her door: trinkets, jewels, flowers, heels, silk gloves, anything a woman could dream of. He would call her on the telephone at five p.m. every day just before dinner, and for those three Fridays he would take her on lavish dinners and dates.

He went above and beyond for the woman he knew surely wanted to kill him.

It was now the morning of the wedding, and Y/N’s telephone rang. She curiously went to it, grabbing the device and bringing it to her ear. Grabbing the other part in her unoccupied hand, she spoke into it: “Hello?”

“Hello, my dearest, I am thrilled to hear your beautiful voice this morning. It reminds me of sweet honey: smooth and-”

“James?” she interrupted him, “Why are you calling this early?”

James laughed lightly, “Because today is our wedding day, my love. I cannot call you at five p.m. because at five p.m. you will be in my welcoming arms! Are you excited?”

“I’m trembling in desire, darling,” she replied, “I must attend to my wedding preparations,”

“You will look absolutely ravishing, my sweet. Oh, how I adore you. I will leave you to your duties, anxiously waiting to wed my beautiful bride.”

“I will see you very soon, my handsome king,” Y/N said, “Goodbye,” She hung up the two parts of the telephone and set it back down, preparing herself for her big day.

Her fourth big day.

The stylists got to work, putting her hair in rollers, painting her nails a shiny jet black, carefully applying her dramatic makeup. She went for walks all done out, she wasn’t going to be caught slacking on her on wedding.

Fourth wedding.

That James March knew of.

“How long do you plan on keeping this one for?” her loyal servant, Ms. Barnes, asked, blowing on the nail polish adorning Y/N’s fingernails. “He’s a handsome one.”

Y/N thought for a moment, “I’m unsure. He is actually… sweet.”

“And rich,” said another servant, Ms. Michaels, busying herself with Y/N’s hair.

“So was her second,” Ms. Barnes pointed out, “And he lasted three months.”

“His riches are not of importance to me,” Y/N told her servants, “I do not need a man’s riches when I have my own,”

“How true, Ms. L/N,” Ms. Barned nodded in agreement, “There is no point in having men if it isn’t for one’s own entertainment.”

_________

This was marked the best day of James Patrick March’s short life.

He stood at the alter adjusting his bow tie with the biggest grin a man could have as he waited for his beautiful bride to grace the audience with her presence. Practically the entirety of Chicago came to the celebration of their love, rows upon rows of guests laid out before him as he anxiously waited.

And then she came down the aisle, the orchestra expertly playing the familiar tune of Here Comes the Bride as she took each step. She didn’t just want an organ player, she wanted the whole deal. The organ, violins, a beautiful symphony as she had her big moment. And of course, James was quick to make the arrangement for his beloved.

She was an absolute beauty, in a large dress that took up most of the aisle’s width. Black and lacey, with tiered ruffles, off the shoulder to show off her soft shoulders. Her veil was also black lace, partially covering her face, the back half dozens of feet long. His fiance was a maximalist, and he made sure she was about to get an equally maximalist wedding.

The wedding went as planned. When it was James’ turn to do his vows, he raised his hand as previously instructed during the practice, “With this hand, I will lift your sorrows.” he raised his chalice, “Your cup will never be empty, for I will be your wine,” he poured the red wine into the glass. Red as her lips. Her signature color. He placed down the chalice, grabbing a lighter for the candle that was in front of him, “With this candle, I will light your way in darkness,” Finally, he grabbed her ring, the blood ruby shining in the light of the candle, “With this ring, I ask you to be mine,” he slid it onto her slender finger before pressing a chaste kiss to her knuckles.

Y/N perfectly recited the vows as well, slipping the ring onto his finger. They then took their glasses and took a sip of the sweet wine, before finally, sharing a kiss to seal the deal. James carefully moved her veil, revealing the face of the seductress that had his heart. His arms went around her as he leaned in, kissing her with all of the passion in him.

They were now wed.

The wedding activities soon began, the newly weds beginning their first dance. James brought an arm around her waist, pulling her close as they began to dance, “You look absolutely stunning, darling, you have impeccable taste of fashion,”

“Hm,” she replied with a smirk, “I think I have upset quite a few with the color of my dress,”

“To hell with them. All of them, jealous of your immense beauty,” said March, pressing a kiss to her jaw, “I just might be the luckiest man in this room. Such a dazzling woman I have in my embrace,” with a smirk, he whispered in her ear, “I could just die from excitement,”

_________

The next few months went by in a blur.

James March made sure to treat Y/N like a queen, spoiling her beyond compare. He knew she wanted to kill him, but did not say a word. She knew about his special new hobby. She didn’t say anything either.

Once the fifth month passed, Ms. Barnes, who was diligently doing Y/N’s hair, said: “I think we have ourselve’s a record. Five months, the longest you have kept a husband.”

She hummed in response, lighting a cigarette, “Correct. The longest. I have not become bored of him just yet.”

“Well, he’s not a boring man, Mrs. March,” Ms. Michaels mused, “He treats you like gold,”

“That he does,” Y/N said in agreement, a satisfied look on her face, “I don’t think any of my ex-husbands have treated me this well. It is quite… refreshing,”

“You don’t have to kill him, you know?” Ms. Barnes told her, “You’re allowed to find happiness,”

“But, Ms. Barnes, that is what gives me happiness,” she shrugged, taking a long puff of her cig, “There is just something so wonderful about…. Watching the life… leave their eyes,” she smiled sweetly, sighing in joy at the thought, “However, I quite like James alive. Perhaps I would need a new fix.”

Over the past few years (124, to be exact), Y/N had a cycle. She would tease herself, almost edge herself by only drinking the blood of animals to quench her thirsts, marry a man, and once she couldn’t handle it anymore, kill him. Usually in some fun, intricate way. Then she would feast on his blood until he was completely dry.

It was a fun game that has kept her satisfied for decades already.

Until now.

The thought of killing James March didn’t sound right to her anymore.

“We have a ball today,” she told her servants, “I’m sure I will find someone of use for the night,”

James had vowed to make two days of October the biggest spectacle of Chicago. October 30th, his birthday, which he named Devil’s Night, because he was dramatic like that. The day that came after was Y/N’s birthday, October 31st, Halloween, which very much fit her.

So not only was Devil’s Night a huge celebration, but so was Halloween, the night of James March’s beloved.

There was a soft knock on the door, and James entered the room, “My love! You look ravishing,” he practically pushed through the two servants, placing his hands on her shoulders, placing a few kisses along her neck, “Absoutely stunning, dear,” he then pressed a kiss to her cheek.

“James! You’ll mess up my makeup!”

“No matter, just reapply it. I’ll always buy you more,” James replied smugly, kissing her cheek again, “My beautiful wife. Happy birthday again. I feel my present for you would look lovely with your dress,” He glanced at Ms. Barnes and Ms. Michaels, “Shoo shoo,” he waved them off.

“Behave,” Y/N deadpanned.

“My apologies, dearest,” he said, though he obviously didn’t give a damn, “I just can’t wait to get you alone,” he nipped at her neck. Noticing the warning look in her eyes, he laughed, pulling away, “Fine fine, evil woman. Close your eyes while I give you your gift!”

Y/N smirked lightly, closing her eyes as her husband took out her gift. Obviously a necklace, feeling him place it along her neck, the large jewels cascading down her chest. He fastened the clasp, pressing a kiss to the back of her neck, “Open your eyes, darling,”

Her eyes opened, and she smiled in pleasant surprise. Of course, the necklace was adorned in huge diamonds, he was never cheap when it came to his beloved. “Oh, James, it’s wonderful!” she said, meeting his gaze through the mirror, “Thank you,”

“Ah, anything for you, my dear,” James smirked, squeezing her shoulders from behind, “My beautiful wife.” he tucks a strand of hair behind her ear fondly, “We could always be late to the party,” he said suggestively.

“Late? To my own party? I think not,” Y/N stood up, laughing at the pout on her husband’s lips, “Don’t fret, dear, I will be all yours when the night ends.” she promised, arms going around his neck as she stared into his dark, dark eyes, “But for now you must wait,” she stuck out her tongue, teasingly grazing his earlobe.

“You naughty girl,” James said in excitement, gripping her hips, ‘You Jezebel you,”

She giggled seductively, “All for you, my dear,”

Oh, she did not want to kill him. Not at all.

And so they left the room and made way to the grand spiral staircase. The couple stopped at the top, James releasing her hand, “Stay here, darling, let me introduce the star of the night!” he made the descent down each step until he stood at the bottom gathering the attention of the guests scattered all throughout their grand home. He introduced his wife, holding out a hand to her as she made her way down the steps.

Each step was careful and precise (like usual, her dress was huge), radiating confidence as she greeted her guests. Y/N took her husband’s hand, allowing him to bring her close.

The night festivities went as planned, Y/N certainly enjoying the effort her husband took into making sure her birthday went perfectly. He always went above and beyond for her, always seeking her approval. He was completely devoted.

After a while, Y/N purposely got separated from him in search of someone. A victim. If she wasn’t going to kill her husband, she had to kill someone else. She was tired of teasing herself.

It didn’t take her long to find some stupid man, some lawyer named George. He was quick to get handsy with her, so she led him off to one of the many guest rooms. He was desperately ripping at her dress, which she loosened up with an eye roll.

God she wasn’t in the mood for this.

She pinned him down to the bed, glaring at him darkly, tongue darting out to lick her lips. He was annoying. He didn’t have that sexy drawl like her husband. Those dark but comforting brown eyes. Those hands fit perfectly on her hips.

It wouldn’t matter to her if this man died.

And with a smirk, she raised a hand, each finger covered by a claw-like ornament, a gift from her loving husband, of course. He said it “fit her style”.

He was so right.

She let her index finger run along his chest, then slowly his throat, leaving goosebumps along the trembling skin, until with a swift motion, she swiped her finger, swiped the claw, and his throat was slit. Buying her face into his neck, she lapped up the sweet flavor of his blood.

Finally, she needed this.

As she hungrily drank, the door opened.

“Oh, dearest, whatever are you doing?”

Y/N shot up, head snapping in the direction of James March. Her husband. However, he didn’t seem terrified. Or pissed.

He simply laughed, arms going around her from behind, “My love is either a lunatic or a vampire. Or both.” he gripped the ribbons of her dress, tightening her corset to fix it, “I must say… It’s rather sexy.”

And so began a new dynamic.

James took it upon himself to do the dirty work. His wife should never get those soft hands dirty.

And so he did the killing, and she would watch, with a look of approval on her face. He would then take her hand and help her out of her chair and towards the body, admiring how she looked as she drank the man dry.

“That was supposed to be me, wasn't it?” He asked during one of their little “sessions”. “You wanted to drain me of my blood.”

She wiped her face with the back of her hand and she glanced up at him, “possibly.”

“It's alright, my dear, I take no offense,” he laughed, grabbing a cloth to clean off his knife. “I must have earned the right to live, huh?”

She smirked up at him, “not many would do this for their wives,”

And their dynamics continued. He killed, she ate, they had hot sex after.

And it worked well.

James ended up building a grand hotel, all of Chicago raving over it. The Hotel Cortez. He originally wanted to name it after Y/N, his beloved, but she herself told him that was a stupid idea.

They spent a lot of time there, whether it was to aid guests, host events, pass time, or even pick off a few victims.

After a while, they even began to discuss the possibility of children. James was dead set on two: a boy (named James March JR, of course), and a girl (named after you, of course).

Y/N made it clear she found that to be extremely boring. Just naming the children after themselves? How cliche.

Pretty much every night after basically rearranging her organs, he would lay with her and yap and yap and yap about how it's important for them to continue their legacies, and then he yaps some more about if the baby inherits her thirst for blood if it would be immortal and all these different questions.

They were planning for the future, until disaster struck.

A peaceful day in the hotel, James having his lovely wife in his embrace as he spoke to patrons. She went off on her own duties after a while, until meeting with James again in one of the rooms.

Something was wrong.

Once he saw her, he rushed to her and gave her a rough kiss, cupping her cheeks with such urgency, “My love….” He whispered, “someone ratted me out. Someone knew.”

“Whatever do you mean?” she whispered, hands going to his wrists as she looked up at him, “You mean…?”

“Yes, our little hobby,” March brought her against his chest, an arm around her waist, a hand raking through her hair, “Oh how I hope it wasn’t you who told. Don’t even tell me, I would be devastated,” he sighed, resting his chin on the top of her head.

“No, James,” she replied in a quiet tone, “I did not tell anyone. You know I love you.” She pulled away slightly to look up at him, “If I wanted you gone, you know I would have killed you myself.”

A soft smile reached her husband's lips as he pressed a kiss to her forehead, “Always the loyal wife. I adore you, my dear.” There was a hint of genuine sadness in his tone as he held her close. “Will you be the one to finish me?”

Y/N shook her head right away, “No!” she pulled away completely, “No, I won't. You've been the only husband I've loved. I can't…. I can't kill you.”

With another sad smile, he held her again, “I understand, dearest. Just… stay with me while I do it? Please?”

This couldn't be happening. It really couldn't.

But she nodded, face buried in his chest, “Yes… I'll stay with you,”

“Thank you, my love,” he sighed, kissing the top of her head. He held her for a moment before pulling away and taking her hand, sitting down. There was a knife on the table and he shakily grabbed it. “This won't be the first throat I slash,” he tried to joke, but it came out flat. James squeezed her hand as he brought the knife to his throat, but his wife speedily stopped him.

“I'll…. I'll do it,” she gulped out, trembling hand taking the knife from him and placing it back on the table.

“Are you sure? You don't have to, my love, I can do it myself.”

“No, no, I-I'll do it,” she repeated. Y/N seated herself on her lover's lap, arms going around his neck as she captured his lips in a desperate kiss. She could feel tears forming as she realized this would be their last kiss.

Her last kiss with the first husband she's ever loved.

Maybe this was her punishment for all of her terrible deeds. The universe taking away the one man she ever truly loved.

As they continued to kiss, she brought her clawed index finger to his throat, fingers trembling the closer she got. She pulled away from the kiss, “R-Ready?”

Despite everything, he smiled. “I'm ready, darling.” he pressed his forehead against hers, “I will always be with you,”

And with that, she slashed his throat.

Y/N let out a soft cry watching the life quickly leave his eyes, the one man she wanted to stay alive. “Oh, James…” she cupped his cheeks, kissing his lifeless lips. “I love you I love you I love you,”

She could hear loud footsteps coming up the stairs, and she knew it was time to go. She grabbed the knife, bringing it to his bloodied neck before placing it into her lover's hand.

And with that, she climbed out the window.

“I will always be with you,” the words hung in her mind as she went down the fire escape.

She didn't know he was going to keep his word, even in death.

---------

Yall i love him. inbox is open btw

#american horror story #ahs #evan peters #ahs hotel #james patrick march #james march #ahs x reader #james march x reader #james march x you #james march x y/n #james patrick march x reader #james patrick march x you

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lacybunie · 1 year ago

Text

adieu, mon dieu!

“forgive me, father, for i have committed the biggest sin of all!”

pairing: afab!reader x re4r!leon

warnings: smut, virginity loss, blasphemy, dub-con, inexperienced/pure reader, religious reader, manipulation, cum eating, creampie, pussy slapping, pet names, breeding kink, slight choking, crying during sex, age gap mention (reader is 19 while leon is 27), fingering, porn with plot (?), bit of ooc leon

note: first time writing hence why it’s so long :3 also wrote this based on leon saying “i’ll give you a holy body” in re4r bc nobody freaks out over it like i do

“holy mary, mother of god, pray for us sinners.” the prayer is muscle memory. a smile adorns your face as you walk out of sunday mass with your family. oh how you cherish the time spent in god’s temple. you would not have it any other way. this small, quiet town in washington homes jesus freaks like yourself. where every summer, all children through teens spend their time at church camp. cross necklaces or rosaries are worn around the necks of bypassers and neighbors. you feel as though you are blessed with such a life.

so when leon appears in your life, you think you’re the most blessed girl alive. as the two of you go steady, he starts attending church with you and listens to the word of the lord with you in his black jeep. he listens to your prayers and readings of the bible. leon couldn’t be anymore perfect. “our heavenly father has blessed me with a man who loves me.” pink hues flush your cheeks as you smile giddishly during confession. “do not let temptation fool you.” the priest on the other side taunts, almost as if it’s a warning.

the people of the church disagree with the relationship you have with leon, the eight year gap between you two. more so, they dislike leon. they tell you he is not a man of the lord, he is a walking sin. they share their stories of glancing at him during mass and how he’s appearing to hold back laughter, how he doesn’t actually consume the blood and body of christ, how his eyes are filled with something evil. you choose to not believe them as they don’t know leon as you do. “he is nothing like that, sister olivia.” you defend during sunday lunch, biting your tongue. “you have found the devil in a lover.” sister olivia spews with disgust.

her words are a distraction during your date, echoing and bleeding into the grooves of your brain. “sweetheart?” leon calls as he catches your zoned out state. your eyes connect with his, you break yourself out of thought. “i’m sorry, i was just lost in thought.” you apologize, gleaming with a shy smile. the warmth of leon’s hand engulfs yours across the table, the cold silver of your ring turning hot. “i was asking if you would want to go back to my place after this?” leon repeats what you had muffled seconds ago.

“i’ll have to ask my dad first.” you embarrassingly respond as pinks heat your cheeks. there’s limited privacy with leon, daytime stays at his home with an hour max limit and once every two weeks only. your father implemented this as a way to keep a better peace of mind. “c’mon sweetheart, what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.” leon persuades with sugar on his tongue. the veil of orange from the candles illuminating the table is covering his face, you might just burst from the ethereal beauty he holds. he’s saying something color-coded yet it’s muffled as the tidal wave of his eyes are drowning you. “okay.” you mindlessly respond, leon faintly smirks.

the little skirt you wear is almost halfway off while you and leon makeout on his couch, something you shamelessly leave out during confessions. you keep your hands on his broad shoulders while he dangerously lingers his hands at your hips and thighs. you think you’re seeping through your panties as you feel a wet patch forming, making you feel bothered. “i feel weird.” you pant between a kiss, lungs aflame from the little oxygen you grant yourself. leon pulls away with furrowing eyebrows, “did i do something wrong?”

yet you’re struggling to understand what IS wrong. why do you feel so…wet down there? maybe you started your period but you realize it ended a week ago. leon’s eyes are burning into your skin, the gaze causing you to feel mortified. how can you tell him this? what if he thinks you’re weird? his girlfriend is wetting herself like a damn fool for no reason. “what is it?” that soft tone of his makes you feel even worse. embarrassment is starting to creep itself into the flesh of your body.

“i feel wet.” you say it so clearly and slowly as if you’re dumbing it down for yourself. you don’t know why you feel like this and you don’t know why it’s happening. leon smiles at the frustration you show, clearly not thinking of your situation weirdly. “that’s a good thing, doll.” he coos while holding your hands. head tilting and ditzy eyes searching for an answer, you are clueless by how this is a good thing. “what do you mean, leon?” “you’re turned on, that’s what i mean.” the blood pumping into your heart turns cold at the realization of what you have let yourself done. one of the deadliest sins of all: lust

how can you let yourself get carried away and almost give into something sacred? something you promised to your heavenly father that you will wait till marriage to do? you clutch the rosary wrapped around your neck, “please forgive me. i’m sorry, leon.” you think leon must be feeling the same way too, realizing you both almost gave into sin. oh how awful he must feel, to almost have betrayed the lord and gave into temptation. leon searches your face in hopes to find something you’re not sure of. “why are you apologizing?” he questions, hands no longer embracing your own.

“for getting you caught up in almost sinning.” “it’s not a bad thing to be turned on.” his voice is laced with something unfamiliar, a tone you’re not even aware of. “but it can lead to having sex and we’re not-” “there’s nothing bad about having sex either.” leon interrupts with annoyance. you can’t fathom how he thinks premature sex is not bad, he’s read the bible with you countless times. the purity ring wrapped around your finger symbolizes the commitment you vowed to and he’s reminded every time he holds your hand. “we can’t have sex, leon. you know that.”

“do you not love me?” leon is frowning at you, taking you aback with his words. “i love you, leon. of course i do.” you profusely confess as you get closer to him. the weight of your chest growing heavy while he shakes his head. “you’re supposed to have sex with the one you love right? then why don’t you? if you love me enough, then it’s not sin.” leon preaches with eyes glimmering with something indescribable. “we won’t have sex, we’ll be making love. that’s different. the lord doesn’t view it as sin.”

different strokes of blue are piercing into your soul, almost like his eyes are trapping you. your mind is foggy as you try to think of something to say. “i don’t think...” you trail off with unsure certainty, but what you want to actually say becomes lost in thought as leon’s cherry-bruised lips pull apart in a smile. you think he’s right, it’s something you probably skimmed over. cold hands caress your bare thighs, leon’s lips kiss the skin below your jaw. “you know i’m right, doll.” he mutters while his teeth lightly nip your skin, you grow hot. “i would never lie to such a pretty angel.”

“i’ll make you feel so good.” leon promises with his hands scrunching up your skirt. the sudden action causing your heart to burst within itself. your dry mouth defeats the words wanting to escape, to tell him to not touch there. you’re also battling the urge to let yourself do so as his hands grasp your inner thigh, sending a rush throughout your body. doe eyes noticing the way leon is looking at you as if you’re a sheep, tethered in his sharp teeth, bracing to become a meal.

two fingers rub you over your panties, the new feeling quickly has you inhale sharply. butterflies flutter around in your abdomen. leon hums as his fingers gather your essence that is leaking through the fabric. “there you are, pretty.” leon lays you further down on the couch. his lips kiss you again roughly and you grip at his bicep as his hands quickly discard your skirt. leon impatiently pulls away from your lips to look at the newly found view, lilac panties adorned with a baby blue ribbon. leon’s favorite color.

the wetness from earlier feels as if it’s completely soaking the fabric. you feel utterly exposed like this, so vulnerable in front of leon. “you’re so fucking sexy.” he sighs out once he finally removes the one thing keeping him away from your forbidden fruit. “please leon.” you’re unsure if you’re begging or pleading. the temperature of your body is uncomfortably hot and you’re sure it’s because your soul is already spiraling down to hell. you want to stop leon from inserting his finger into your sopping cunt, but of course you don’t.

“have you ever touched yourself, doll?” leon asks, while fingering you agonizingly slow. you crave for more, not exactly sure of what. you need more of him. you’re heaving at this point, staring into leon’s eyes as he watches you unfold before him, a flower blooming almost too late. “i’m not supposed to.” you choke out the answer while he begins to messily rub your clit. the smirk resting on leon’s lips is haunting you, why does he always look so desirable with that stupid smirk?

“says who? your god?” leon pushes a second finger into your sopping hole, an uncomfortable stretch soon followed by an indescribable pleasure. the erotic sounds of your cunt being touched for the first time reach your hot pink ears. leon curls his fingers against your spongey walls causing you to squirm. the imaginary coil in your lower stomach feels like it’s on the brink of snapping.

“yes.” you moan while he lightly slaps your cunt. “what kind of god deprives his children of a pleasure such as this? don’t you feel good, angel? i know your pussy sure does.” leon smiles at your reaction for his choice of words, you forget how blunt he tends to be. “d-don’t say that.” “your god can’t be all that great if he won’t even let me feel how your pussy squeezes around my fingers.” the blasphemy hits you like a gunshot only temporarily, the pleasure you’re receiving rids it right away.

you’re shaking your head but you don’t know if it’s from the frustration of leon speaking against the lord or if you’re about to reach sweet relief. “leon.” you hiccup, the pleasure becoming too much and your mind is turning into mush. a tight grip on leon’s bicep has him chuckling, looking down at you so pathetically. “you look so fucking stupid. go ahead and cum for me, pretty.” he grants while your cunt is squeezing so tightly around his digits.

back arching off the couch along with the most pornographic moan to ever come out of your chest, the coil snaps. waves of ecstasy crashes within your body, releasing out of your sopping hole. your thighs are shaking to snap close but leon doesn’t let it happen as he gathers your essence up with his fingers. “god, you’re just so fucking perfect.” leon grunts before sticking his own fingers in his mouth, the honey he has been craving falls onto his tongue. you feel yourself get dizzy at the sight.

leon reaches down to give you a messy kiss, tasting your cum on his tongue. “wanna fuck you.” he moans into your mouth, his jeans rub against your cunt and you’re sure your cum smeared onto the denim. you want to stop right here, you want to run straight to church and plead for your life in the confessional booth. however, when leon pulls away to strip off his pants and his fat, long cock hits his abdomen, you feel that indescribable want grow stronger.

your breathing becomes heavy as leon rubs the tip of his cock at your entrance. his cock looks too big for you, fearing he’ll split you open. the taste of bitter metallic hits your tongue and you realize you’re biting your bottom lip too hard. “i’m so lucky.” leon grunts, dragging his thumb across your bleeding lip. “get to be the first to fuck this virgin pussy.” he barely pushes the tip into your tight cunt when you start crying. the pain of slight tearing mixed with the eternal damnation you’re going to face is cutting at your skin. “please.” your vision is blurry through the tears when leon pushes his cock fully into you, you can hear him let out a deep groan.

the way leon’s cock feels inside of you makes you feel so full. the pain of being ripped open for the first time is soon subsided by a mind clouded with desire, yet you’re still crying. leon moves in and out slowly but roughly, hitting a spot within you just right. you moan wearily, salty tears trickling down into your agape mouth. when leon begins to thrust a bit more hard, you’re sobbing out loud moans. leon presses his hand against your throat, “so fucking loud.” he’s snapping his hips into you, his cock bruising the inside of your cunt so sweetly that you feel the coil about to snap again.

“need to shut that mouth of yours next time.” leon grunts, looking at you in a haze. he squeezes your throat as if to test the waters and you choke out a needy moan, your cunt almost suffocating his cock at the action. “such a nasty girl.” leon smirks while picking up the pace of the abuse on your cunt. baby pink nails are scratching at leon’s biceps. you slur out an apology, clearly not in the right headspace to realize that leon is toying with the rosary tangled in your neck. “oh my-” you cut yourself off when leon’s cock repeatedly hits against a spot so sweet, the coil in your stomach feels like it’s tightening.

“say it.” leon taunts. his hand reaches down to messily rub at your clit once more, your eyes flutter shut. you know what he wants and you don’t think you can push yourself further into damnation by saying the lord’s name in vain. “c’mon, doll. tell your god how my cock is making you feel.” leon tightly wraps his fingers around the dainty rosary, you’re pleading at him through your eyes, mouth too occupied by the moans you let out. “leon please.” you cry out, you’re not sure if you’re begging him to stop the blasphemy or to make you cum.

leon soon loses himself in your cunt, grasping at your hips to drill his cock deeper in you. the stars in your eyes are getting brighter, you’re almost there. dirty blonde hair covers leon’s eyes, relieving yourself of the gaze he had on you. “gonna fucking breed you.” leon laps at your neck, biting at your soft skin as if it’s the bread he eats at church. “you want that? want me to fill you up?” you moan out a incoherent yes, too fucked out to understand what he’s even saying. leon captures your lips in a heated kiss, tongues relentlessly clash against each other.

leon’s cock hits that sweet spot one final time before the coil within you finally snaps. “oh my god, leon!” you moan so loudly, throat becoming faintly sore. your body is shaking at the ecstasy that’s somehow stronger than before, nails clawing at leon’s back that you feel like you may draw blood. “there you go, angel.” leon’s words are drowned out by pure euphoria. you feel the warm essence escape out of your cunt but it’s soon mixed with another hot feeling, leon’s own cum. he desperately shoves his cock into you to rid himself of every last drop. you look down to where you two are connected, the lewd sight brings you back down to earth.

if anyone were to rip open your chest to view the way your heart is pounding, almost punching itself out, they’d think you murdered a man. the burden of betrayal is sitting heavy on your shoulders, all the prayers in the world couldn’t save you now. when you look at leon, who is taking in the sight of his cum dripping out of your cunt, the thought begins to become a crimson haze. a string of pearl beads clutched in leon’s fist catches your eye, you look up at him. a blue hue meet yours, the once bright shade now dark. leon lets out a daunting chuckle, “won’t be needing that anymore.”

sprawled out on his palm is a broken chain along with a few pearls and a tiny cross. leon ripped off your rosary.

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #resident evil 4 smut #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy x fem reader #idk how to tag this

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naddiesflower · 2 years ago

Text

Flirting with them as a hero

Characters: Shigaraki, Dabi, Kai Chisaki, Mr. Compress

Shigaraki

You wouldn’t see each other often when you’d go out on patrols

But oh boy, when you did

Poor shigaraki bro

To a person who didn’t know either of you, it would like you are the one harassing shigaraki

“Can’t you go do hero stuff somewhere else?”

“I could, but i wouldn’t be able to see you.”

Scratches his neck more often in your presence because, “they make me feel nasty inside”

SHIGARAKI DISCOVERS AFFECTION FOR THE FIRST TIME NOT CLICKBAIT

It’s obvious you can’t see what he looks like under the hand he wears

And Shigaraki has curiously inquired a couple of times why you’re so flirty if you don’t know what he even looks like

Like clock work you always answer:

“Well i think you probably look cute under that hand.”

And cue Shigaraki trying to escape from you claiming that

“You’re weird and annoying.”

You’re one of the few heroes who come across Shigaraki so often

Its because he finds you so interesting and he semi-memorized your patrol schedule to bump into you more often

HE HAS YOUR ENTIRE SCHEDULE MEMORIZED DON’T BELIEVE HIM HE’S A STALKER

Anyways, during one of your guys fight you somehow manage to knock the hand off his face and-

Oh wow

And he has a mole right by his mouth??

Omg how does he look good with a bloody nose

You recover from your short trance

“Looks like i was right about you being cute.”

You’re so glad you were able to knock off that bothersome hand off his face or else you would have never seen his reddening cheeks

You reach for a part on your hero suit and rip off a piece of fabric

You reach towards his face, Shigaraki surprisingly doesnt pull away from you, and wipe at his bleeding nose

Shigaraki only stares at you starstruck during this

After you deem your work satisfactory you toss the fabric to the floor and stand up and walk away

You call out to Shigaraki

“That was a cute look on your face back there.”

Shigaraki just watches you walk away and out of the abandoned warehouse you guys were fighting in

Eventually he also walks away but not before picking up the discarded piece of your hero outfit, making sure he kept his pinky far away from the fabric

Dabi

Likes you cuz you’re not the cookie cutter type of hero and you’re actually fun

“A hot guy with a fire quirk, i don’t think it’s mere coincidence.”

You catch him off guard so hard

He thought you would be an uptight kind of hero

The last thing he ever expected from you was to flirt with him

“You seem fun.”

And you did end up being fun

From then on the both of you would bump into each other more frequently

Dabi concluded that the more buildings he burned down, the more you would show up 🤭

“Why is it that your always on my tail?”

“Well maybe it’s because i want to see your face more often…also because you keep committing arson.”

Another thought that came to you is that fire really did suit Dabi

You would never admit out loud, but he did make chaos look like such a beautiful thing

“Hey what do you say, when i finally send you to the cellar how about we have a jailhouse date?”

“It’s a shame you’re a hero or else i would take you up on your offer”

Over time you’ve come to notice his disdain for heroes

Yeah villains normally hate heroes, but something was different about his hatred

But even with your position as a hero, Dabi was fond of you despite objecting this himself

“Join us, i’m sure we could offer you more than those crappy hero agencies.”

You pause and Dabi thinks for a second you might really consider his offer

But you murmur something he barely catches

“Maybe at an earlier point of my life i would have.”

You don't give him a chance to ponder on your statement before you’re charging to fight him

Something about that last encounter shifted something in yalls situationship

This was very evident when you had bumped into him in the most unexpected way

You were off duty and was walking down an abandoned alley way (because that’s totally normal)

But the sound of pained groans catch your attention and you snap quickly into hero mode, looking for what you assumed to be an injured samaritan

the injured part you guessed correctly

the Samaritan part not so much

you stare at the bloodied form of Dabi huddled next to a garbage bin

Dabi finally takes notice of your presence and he immediately starts trying to burn you

"HEY! look im not going to hurt you!"

you bring your hands up in a surrender motion

Dabi only stops when he's aware that you're out of your hero uniform

but he's still wary as he sneers at you

"You here to take advantage of me? finally put me behind bars like you wanted?"

"Shut up and let me help you asshole"

Dabi has no choice in the matter as you're already tending to his wounds

and quite frankly he's too tired to fight you

he stares at you and he can't help but think how much more attractive you looked up close

and how stupid you were

You could have taken advantage of him in his weak time

But you’re here helping him

a villain

“Your kindness will be your downfall you know?”

“It is my job you know.”

when you're done you stand up with a huff and look like you want to say something but settle with

"go to a real doctor and get that thoroughly checked out."

Dabi watches you walk away and thinks

In another time maybe the both of you could have been partners in crime

Chisaki

Absolutely despises you at first

He’s never seen a hero like you before (derogatory)

The first time you both met was during an undercover mission you were assigned to

Acting as a villain trying to work under Kai

You lead him down the alley way

“Sorry we had to meet in this dingy place, i’ve heard how much you despise dirty places.”

He’s almost impressed that you’d consider his ick

Almost, so the most he offers you is an acknowledging grunt

“It’s not the worst i’ve seen.”

And it truly isn’t

Just when he thinks people can’t any nastier they just somehow do

“Alright so what do you say about my proposition?”

Kai feigns thinking

He already knew who you were

And he thought you an idiot for trying to take him on your own

“I think you’re foolish.”

You hear your hero name being called through the earpiece you have

“You need to retreat right now!”

Thankfully your reflexes are fast or else you’d be reduced to nothing

You look up to where you were once standing and catch Kai’s eyes

They catch you off guard so hard you can barely hear the yelling in your ear piece

You just blurt out the first thing that comes to your mind

“Kai you have the prettiest eyes I've ever seen.”

“Another word and i’ll make you disappear”

“Not even when it’s singing your praises?”

“Sing them in the afterlife.”

Kai was never able to disintegrate you

And you got away mostly unscathed

You also got a serious tongue lashing from your company, but it’s whatever 🙄

His eyes still on your mind when you go to sleep that night

Kai’s mind is also plagued by that night

He can’t stop thinking how idiotic you were

But his mind keeps replaying the compliment you said

He’s not great at feelings, but even he could feel the sincerity that oozed from your voice

He doesn't have to imagine about you often though

Because somehow you’re always able to sneak your way inside the hideout

He theorizes it has something to do with your quirk, since it was never explicitly stated to the public what it was

Which leads to a kind of back and forth between you guys

You usually sneak in to gather intel

But you mostly do it because you like to mess with Kai

You’ll never forget the time you had managed to get into his office

Which you weren’t aware of at the time until he walked, wide eyed upon seeing you

He’s not surprised to see you, only disappointed

Mostly in his men for letting you get past them

“What are you doing in my office?”

“Oh wow, no bird mask-? Wait, this is your office?”

You say as you spin around in his chair, you had just entered into the first room that you came across

A sly smile crosses your face

“I guess you could say it’s fate that we cross each other like this huh?”

At this point he’s used to your sugary words, but he can’t help the way his cheeks heat up, thankful for the mask he’s wearing right now

He doesn’t know why, but he feels like entertaining your shenanigans

He walks over to his swivel chair and he can see the way you look at him

With apprehension, but mostly curiosity

He grabs the back of the chair, spins you to face him, and places both of his hands on the arms of the chair

Kai leans in, getting close to your face and manages the most sultry voice he can manage

“Fate? Or is it because you like me so much?”

He notices your expression start to change

And he’s so sure you’re going to be a flustered mess

What he doesn’t expect you do to is to hit him on the chest, effectively pushing him back, and start laughing

“What’s so funny?”

“Hahaha! No nothing- what you did was just cute.”

Honestly what he did made your heart race

And the way he looked at you omg-

Your laughing was out of nervousness, but he didn’t need to know that

Kai glares at you and huff, “get out of my office.”

Finally calming down, you stand up from the chair

“Yeah yeah, i need to get going anyways.”

You walk up to Kai and pull down his black face mask

Kai’s eyes widen and he flinches back the slightest

This causes you you smile a little bit and you lean in to give him a chaste kiss on the cheek

“I knew you would be handsome under that mask.”

With that you walk away from him and out the door all nonchalant

Kai stares at your form the entire way

He would have liked to meet you under different circumstances, but he knows that could never happen

And it never did

He’s apprehended not too long later and you knew it would eventually happen

But that still doesn’t stop the ache in your heart when you find out

Compress

Will flirt back

“Oh you’re fun, you probably wear that mask to keep people from falling in love with you right?”

He immediately matches your energy

“Then should I take it off so you can do just that my dear?”

Compress usually has fun fighting against heroes, but not as much as he does with you

You’re like a breath of fresh air compared to the usually serious heroes he comes across

He looks forward to bumping in to you

Him flirting back with you was an absolute surprise

It’s not that you flirt with every villain you fight, you had just assumed he would be some being filled to the brim with anger and rage

And you wanted to provoke him

Well he wasn’t one bit provoked and for once you had fun fighting

You both see each other a handful of times afterwards

But one of the meetings had stuck by your mind among the rest

You bump into compress during patrol

But this time he's not alone

He’s with a young blonde girl

You would have immediately thought the worst and jumped into fighting him if you hadn’t already been aware of the kid’s description in the League of Villains files

You can’t help but feel sad about her situation, society failing her and making her turn to unethical means to survive

You’d be sympathazing with her in your mind had she not interrupted your thoughts

And what she says catches you severely off guard

“Is that the hero you have a crush on compress? They’re so cute!”

Not once did her ever say he had a crush on you (though that doesn’t mean it wasn’t true)

He just mentioned your encounters off handedly to the group and it somehow led to Himiko gushing over one of your fansites whilst smacking his arms and saying, “look, look!”

Compress is half expecting you to be disgusted

“Is that so?” You look over to Compress and and raise an eyebrow

“Have you already fallen for me so quickly, though I can’t really blame you.”

You playfully flutter your eyelashes at him

“It would be hard not to fall for you my dear”

Himiko is squealing about how cute the entire thing is and Compress just can’t help but laugh

You begin to walk in their direction and pat Compresses’ shoulder

“Don’t make me work extra tonight.”

They weren’t doing anything yet, so you’d let them be

Before you walk away, Compress pulls a rose from one of his sleeves and hands it to you

You take it from him with a smile and walk away from the pair

Eventually you notice he’s gone for a while

You would understand if he was making himself scarce from other heroes, but it’s like he straight up disappears

IT’S BECAUSE MANS IS MISSING A LIMB

And you’re secretly kind of sad about it

But he was a villain and him disappearing should have never surprised you

But one day you spot him, funnily enough where you both met each other

You thought you might have been hallucinating because you had come to accept that he kicked the bucket

The first thing you notice is his left robotic arm

Concern flashes across your face, that surely had to have been the reason for his absence

Villains also had their own enemies, so you’re 100% it wasn’t some freak accident and someone did this to him

You want to ask him if he’s okay, joke about it but the only thing that comes out of you is

“Who was it?

He looks at you questioningly, you’re usually so playful with him, but he likes seeing this new side of you

“Worrying over a villain my dear? I must say that’s not a very wise thing to do.”

That’s right, as much as you wanted to worry about him, your job wouldn’t allow that freedom

“I was only wondering who got to the mighty Mr. Compress before I could.”

Compress huffs out a laugh and walks towards you until he’s right in front of you

He takes of his mask

Your breath hitches, not expecting him to ever do such a thing

And then he removes the black fabric from his face

You’re too busy admiring how handsome he is to even notice him reaching for your hand and grabbing it

“Please,” he raises your hand and places a kiss to the back of it.

“Call me Sako.”

You repeat his name, making sure to look into his eyes the entire time

You knew nothing could bloom between you two, but it wouldn’t hurt to keep playing this dangerous game

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msschemmenti · 27 days ago

Text

girl next door 🏠 - 9

After Tina’s departure, the neighborhood calmed. Or at least the jealousy calmed. And with the quietness came time to reflect. The Prentiss-Jareau ladies had been pretty MIA for the weeks following their introduction to Tina.

“Well, the showcase is the Friday before Thanksgiving.”

“Perfect, so I’ll spend Thanksgiving with you and your hot neighbors.” Grayson decided. Y/n chuckled softly and really thought about a holiday with Emily and JJ.

“I highly doubt that they’d be in attendance, but you’re always welcome to celebrate with me. You sure you don’t want to head home to your family?”

“Oh, I’m positive. There’s only so much green bean casserole and stuffing a person can take. Also, why wouldn’t your lovers be joining us for Thanksgiving Dinner? If my memory serves me right, which it normally does, they’re not exactly chefs.” Grayson prodded.

“I’m sure they have their own families to visit for one. And for two, they’ve been acting a little weird since Tina came to visit.”

“Weird how?” Grayson asked, eagerly focusing on the prospect of gossip.

“Oh I don’t know, you know how I spent the night over at Tina’s hotel room? Well, I come home the next day and they’re all ‘Surprised you’re home’ when you and I both know I spend almost all of my time at home. And then they’re short as all get out with me for the rest of the week.” Y/n started to recount, replaying the conversations that happened over the course of the week. “All of that continued until I introduced them to Tina Sunday before her show. They come out of the house wearing next to nothing and suddenly they’re very interested in Tina. But you know how T is– bless her heart. She basically told them I’d been gushing about our bedroom time the whole time she was there. All that to say, since then I haven’t really heard from them. I don’t even know if they’re in town. They could be off in Idaho somewhere for all I know.”

Grayson was quiet for a second, only a second before she squeal in glee. “They’re jealous! This it’s a cannon event in the FWB to Lovers arc. Your one-time-long-term committed relationship pops up to visit only weeks after you’ve all started your neighbors-with-benefits arrangement which you haven’t actually discussed and they don’t know what to do with their feelings.” Y/n scoffed at Grayson’s very dramatic interpretation of her time in DC and was readying a rebuttal when the other woman gasped through the phone again. “They probably thought you slept with her the night you didn’t come home.”

“I think you’ve been spending too much time watching the Young and the Restless. Not everything is so cinematic.”

“That’s a valid criticism of how I spend my time, but you aren’t even denying it which leads me to believe– you’ve already come to this conclusion.”

“Well I wasn’t born yesterday. I wasn’t sure at first– but when they came prancing down the sidewalk in their running gear, I could see through it like a windowpane. Especially considering Emily would never go jogging for fun. But even Jesus had eyes and trust me, there was so much to see.”

“If you know they’re jealous, why not just have a conversation with them about it? I mean, it feels like there's something there to explore.”

“And I’m not opposed to that, but they’ve initiated everything in this arrangement. I’m not beating their doors down for sex whenever the mood strikes. With their schedules alone, it’s very much on their terms. Additionally, if this were to transcend the loosely-established-never-discussed rules they’d have the most adjustment to figure out. They’ve got a life together and this just feels like something they might want to discuss at length.”

“And if they’re already having these conversations?” Grayson prompted.

Y/n pursed her lips as her cheeks reddened and lifted her shoulder in a shrug, “then they’re having those conversations.”

And JJ and Emily had indeed been having those conversations. It was very clear and glaringly obvious that they were interested in something more exclusive with Y/n but bringing an outsider into their already tight schedule was proving to be a harder thing to discuss.

“Wait, when would we even date her? Court her? It’s not like we have an abundance of free time.” Emily asked on their drive into the office one morning.

“Well I mean we get some weekends off.” JJ supplied with a shrug.

“Yeah maybe like three a year…” Emily grimaced.

JJ rolled her eyes and reminded Emily that they’d almost exclusively seen Y/n on the weekends thus far. And she seemed more than okay with that schedule. “Especially with her schedule during the week, weekends seem to be the best for everyone involved.”

Emily nodded, seeming satisfied with JJ’s words but that wasn’t the last time either of them had questions about the logistics of this decision. And once they’d finally felt like they came to a good place on what they both wanted from this arrangement. The only problem became finding the time to actually broach the subject with their neighbor. The professor’s schedule had progressively gotten busier with classes in the morning and rehearsals in the evenings. It also didn’t help that the BAU seemed to be working cases non-stop.

“God am I glad that’s over.” Morgan groaned as each of them boarded the jet quietly. They’d just wrapped up a case in Georgia that had seemingly rattled everyone to their core. With the heavy air clouding the jet, it was no surprise when Emily and JJ made their way to two isolated seats next to each other in the cabin. They often did this when things got too hard for them to self-soothe and left over stress from their bodies. Everyone on the team knew of their relationship, so they didn’t bat an eye when the women snuggled close under a blanket. JJ’s head on Emily's shoulder and both of their eyes closed. Usually, the closeness would give both women some calm, but the tension seemed to course through their bodies even after landing.

As the women made their way to the government-issued SUV, JJ couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that she needed something. Her chest had been abnormally tight since they’d landed in Georgia and despite the rocky end to the case, she thought she’d get some relief knowing it was over. But the tension was still there and not even the pressure of Emily’s hand on her thigh seemed to be soothing the ache. She wasn’t exactly anxiety-prone. She surely had her moments of stress— but this sort of worrying wasn’t something she was familiar with. She can only really think of a few times she’d felt like that and they’d all stemmed from Emily. And the fact that the feeling was still there, pulling at her heart, with Emily right next to her confused her.

JJ flipped her phone over in her hand as she mentally assessed her body’s current state. The case was hard, yes, most of them were but something was very different about this case. A man kidnapping and holding young women on a college campus wasn’t exactly the ideal situation but they’d been able to save the last victim. They’d predicted that the unsub wouldn’t go out easily and that was true but overall the case was closed. The more she thought about it the further her mind went from the case itself and more to the experience as a whole. They’d milled through dozens of people for the week they’d been there. All those families filed in and out of the local precinct and the one thing JJ could remember from all of them was that familiar Southern twang. The twang they hadn’t heard in weeks. The twang she found herself missing. Or when the wife of one of the deputies brought in a homemade pie to thank the team for their hard work. JJ had never considered her a pie connoisseur, but she knew this pie didn’t hold a candle to the ones she’d had since Y/n moved in.

Now after she and Emily got together, she always saw Emily in the world. Whether she was there physically or not. And when she struggled like this, she reached for and leaned on Emily as well. She hadn’t ever experienced that with someone else in her life. But here she was thinking about Y/n, missing her accent, and craving her cooking. Part of her even knew she was craving the physical comfort of their neighbor as well. The neighbor they’d been casually sleeping with for three months (well not in the last few weeks but still three months).

And even though Emily and JJ had ultimately decided to explore more with the young woman, she still didn’t know that. And honestly, needing to cuddle after a hard day at work didn’t seem very casual. Not casual at all. And not something they’d done with any other woman they’d brought to bed. But then again, that seemed on brand for the way things had been going so far for the three of them.

JJ was itching to reach for her phone again. Maybe just a text would satiate the need and quiet the desire she was feeling. A simple sign of life from the young professor and maybe a plan to see her this weekend. With Emily’s focus on the road she pulled her phone back out and unlocked it. She scrolled past the group chat Garcia was blowing up and opened a new text chain with Y/n. She typed and untyped trying to figure out what she could possibly say to the younger woman. Especially at this hour.

JJ: Hi, we just landed and are heading home. Let me know if you need anything? If not, maybe we can get together this weekend.

She hit send and closed the app. Watching and waiting would only make her more anxious. She peeked over the console at Emily. The brooding brunette seemed to still be just as off balance as JJ and she could only wonder if it was for the same reasons as her. She didn’t have to wonder for long.

“Why don’t you text Y/n and see if she needs anything before we head in for the night,” Emily suggested as nonchalantly as possible.

“Already ahead of you.” JJ grimaced sheepishly. “Are you aching to see her as much as i am right now?”

Emily sighed, “I’ll be honest, I don’t understand it myself. But I feel like I spent this entire case trying not to think about her and see her in everyone we spoke to. I just feel like I need to see her. I thought on the jet back I'd even out enough to get through the night but it’s just nagging.”

“Well, that’s a relief. I didn’t know how to explain it to you. It is pretty late and she might be asleep already. She’s not answered my message yet,” JJ mused as she looked at her phone.

“I know. If she’s not expecting us she’s normally in bed by 8:30. If she doesn’t message back within the next 15 minutes, we’ll just grab her something wherever we decide to eat.” Emily suggested.

“Works for me.” JJ nods and they head for home.

Y/n groaned a bit as she felt her phone vibrate under her pillow. She was sure it was a text from Grayson about her night out, so she snuggled closer to her pillow and burrowed closer to sleep. What she wasn’t expecting was for the phone to continue vibrating. She pulled her phone from under her pillow with her eyes still closed and fumbled to answer the call.

“Hello?” She spoke softly into the phone.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I was hoping you were still awake.” JJ sighed through the phone as she looked up at the younger woman’s house.

“No no, it’s okay. Is everything okay?” Y/n asked reaching to turn her bedside lamp on. “Are y’all just getting home?”

“Yeah, we just got back. We weren’t sure if you were up but we got you something to eat either way. Emily insisted on getting you a blizzard.” JJ answered.

“Oh, is it a choco brownie extreme?” Y/n asked sleepily, getting out of bed.

“Of course. If you come to unlock the door we can bring it in.” JJ smiled, already feeling the tension lessen in her chest.

“Already on my way,” Y/n said, ending the call and opening the door. The professor was clad in far less than she normally slept in. A pair of panties, a tank top, and a pink eye mask. But always on her feet were the adorable fluffy slippers she practically lived in while at home. As soon as the door was open and the older women got eyes on Y/n, the weight of the world seemed to lift fractionally.

“Hi.” Y/n smiled sleepily reaching to grab both Emily and JJ by the wrists to pull them inside.

“Sorry for waking you.” JJ apologized again, allowing the younger woman to pull them through the mud room and hallway.

“Oh don’t worry about it, you brought gifts. All is forgiven.” Y/n locked the door and flicked the lights off as they went. “Come on, we’re eating upstairs.”

As soon as they entered the younger woman’s bedroom the women took it in. All of their escapades had taken place in their home or on various surfaces on the main level of Y/n’s house. So this was the first time they’d actually even been in her bedroom. Y/n took the bag of food and ice cream from Emily’s hands and sat them down on her bedside table. She turned to the women and walked over to the gallery wall they were observing.

“Hm, I just realized y’all ain’t been up here before,” Y/n said, linking her arms with the older women and redirecting them to her bed. “I tell you what, y'all can explore all you want in the morning, okay? I wanna eat my ice cream and then close my eyes again. And I’ve already locked up so I hope you’re okay with spending the night.” Y/n poked both of their hips affectionately before throwing herself into the center of the bed dramatically.

JJ was the first to follow Y/n. She shimmied out of her work clothes and pulled the bra from under her tank top. She filed in and Emily followed suit taking the opposite side of the bed. JJ distributed the food and all the women fell into a comfortable silence. They all munched quietly, both Emily and JJ eyeing each other over the younger woman’s head. Looked like they were getting more than they had anticipated, without having to verbalize it. Who were they to complain?

Y/n paused before biting into another fry and turned to them apologetically, “I’m sorry I get a lil bossy when I'm sleepy. You don’t have to stay the night if you don’t want to. I’m sure you want to go sleep in your own bed after being away for so long.”

“No no, it’s fine. I’m sure we’ll be more than comfortable.” JJ answered easily.

“Well alright, I have toothbrushes in the bathroom. Just let me know if you need anything.” Y/n finished off her ice cream and shimmied down below the covers. Emily and JJ quietly went into the bathroom. Emily was the first to make it back to bed, and as the bed dipped Y/n cracked an eye open to study the older woman. Emily hadn’t said very much of anything since they’d arrived. She seemed to be carrying a pretty heavy load that Y/n wasn’t privy to. but part of the younger woman could feel the tension radiating off her neighbors. She reached a hand out for the brunette and pulled her under the covers quietly. Y/n turned to face Emily with a sleepy smile. She kissed her temple sweetly and nudged her nose with her own before pulling the older woman into a hug. “I hope this helps.” the older woman shuddered a bit at her words and pulled Y/n tighter when she moved to let go. She held her until she felt her heart settle and once she let go, she placed a soft kiss on the corner of her mouth.

JJ returned and crawled into bed. She lay on her back first and watched as Y/n reached across her to turn the lamp off. Once in the dark she lay restless, trying to work up the courage to actually cuddle up to the younger woman like her body wanted. just as she had talked herself out of it, Y/n piped up, “Y’all wanna cuddle or what?”

That seemed to finally break the heaviness that had been hanging over the agents and they both laughed and gazed at the professor sweetly.

Once their laughter died down, JJ felt Y/n pull her body against her chest. Turning to face her, JJ was surprised to see the woman’s eyes still closed. Y/n pillowed her head in her chest and allowed her fingers to run through her blonde waves. As JJ sighed and twined their legs together Y/n used her free hand to pull Emily's arm over her hip to rest on JJ’s. Both women sandwiched her between them with deep content sighs. As they relaxed against her body, Y/n figured she’d gotten it right. She kissed JJ’s forehead sweetly and whispered a sleepy goodnight to both women and allowed sleep to take over. It took JJ and Emily a bit to actually fall asleep but when they did it was one of the best nights they’d had in a while.

#emily prentiss x reader #jennifer jareau x reader #criminal minds x reader #jemily x reader #jemily #gnd series #emily prentiss #jennifer jareau #criminal minds #msschemmenti

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alwritey-aphrodite · 4 months ago

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Decorating with Jamie please

2024 Fall Blurbs

Jamie would do anything just to make you happy. Really, he’d risk his life for yours, so doing something like hanging decorations on the outside of your house is the least he could do. It’s so simple, when compared with everything else he would be willing to do for you, that he hadn’t even thought twice before he agreed.

The two of you are both always incredibly busy, and an entire day where neither of you have any sort of plan or commitment is a rarity, especially on a weekend. Today, though, it’s a beautiful Saturday, and you and Jamie have your schedules wide open, leaving you with nothing but time to spend together. Unfortunately, there are also household chores and random tasks you’ve been putting off for weeks, and you wouldn’t be able to enjoy your time with all those tasks looming over you.

Out of everything on your list, decorating your house for fall and Halloween seemed like the most enjoyable, and you’re not even a little upset at the idea of spending a whole day watching seasonal movies and eating treats and digging through your plethora of decorations to transform your entire house into something you’d see in a home design magazine. In order to make that happen, though, and still have some time to spend relaxing with just the two of you, you had to divide and conquer.

Without a second thought, Jamie volunteered to decorate the outside, knowing that you didn’t love using the ladder all by yourself and wanting you to be able to stay warm and cozy inside, instead of battling against the growing chill of autumn. The kiss you press to his cheek in thanks is enough to keep him warm, even as he starts to lose the feeling in his fingers. It’s his own fault, he knows you’d be wearing gloves if you were the one outside, but he’s not as delicate in his dexterity as you are, and he wants everything to be as perfect as possible. There’s a thick cover of clouds, so he can’t really tell how much time has passed when you open the front door and peek your head out, looking up at him.

“If you’re almost done, I can make some hot chocolate,” you offer, and nothing has ever sounded sweeter to Jaime, but he’s not confident he’s made that much progress.

“Are you all finished inside?” He asks, and you nod, and Jamie’s beginning to resign himself to more time outside when you speak again.

“Plus, I missed you and I don’t wanna spend our whole day apart,” and that warms Jamie even more than the kiss had, so he finishes what he was doing and meets you in the kitchen, which is decorated perfectly.

“Babe, I’m just warning you, you might be a little disappointed with the outside of the house,” Jamie tells you as the two of you get settled for an afternoon spent cuddled together on the couch, in your beautifully autumnal living room.

“I could never be disappointed with you,” you reassure him, and now he’s so overwhelmed with love for you he’s certain he’ll never be cold again.

#jamie tartt #jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt fanfic #ted lasso fanfiction

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animentality · 1 year ago

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Your post about Gortash being embarrassing and cringe and not realizing it is SO real to me. I think he is perfectly suave and charming to everyone except when it comes to someone he ACTUALLY likes, at which point his usual mask is useless because he has no idea how to cover up Real Feelings. The way he 🥺 and grins and blabbers nonstop to Durge at the coronation reunion is exhibit A for this of course. Personally I think he had no idea what was happening on his face during that, it just earnestly happened, and he probably THOUGHT he was being chill but he so wasnt. He is a 40 or 50 year old teenager with a crush and he’s clueless that it gets him acting like an idiot. Important Gortash characterisation (to me!)

It just makes sense to me given his history and overall emotional immaturity that he does not know how to express casual affection for something, let alone someONE. (And yeah the whole thing where he and Durge are both really smart people capable of near-flawless teamwork but they also genuinely make each other kind of stupid when they’re around each other. It tracks.)

He wooed Jannath with unimpeachable charm because he did not actually care about or love her (im really sorry Jannath 🫣) so he was just being a fake bastard, and thats easy. But real affection? Real love? He has no framework for that. Catch the Chosen of Bane in the most unbecoming act of ducking his head to hide his stupid smile after taking Durge’s hand in his. Embarrassing!

ANON, your mind.

It's powerful.

I am gnawing on the wonderful idea, because I love the concept of, Gortash is the perfect gentleman, he's great at copying others, at pretending to be a patriar, and exuding this carefully constructed charm.

He was raised by DEVILS. He was in a GANG.

He has Raphael's bullshit charm, and all these rough edges.

But he smooths them out, when he's trying to seduce rich women or arms dealer.

But that act doesn't work on the Dark Urge, of course, and he would never even try that sort of thing with them anyway.

Because anyone who seduces people for a living knows, not everyone reacts to the same tricks.

BUT.

Maybe he starts out trying to seduce them, by being cold and practical and intelligent...but then, surprise surprise.

it ends up not being an act. he finds the dark urge is warmer and more receptive than he thought they'd be, after decades of being alone.

and they have things in COMMON.

And he IS honest with them, as his partner.

And then, when he's NOT trying to seduce then....he accidentally seduces them...by being such a fucking nerd.

And THEN.

as you said.

He is SO dorky and cringe...because he's being honest, for one thing, AND he doesn't know how to act, when he genuinely likes someone, and isn't just trying to seduce them.

And he's THRILLED that that's what gets the Dark Urge hot under the collar.

The biggest freak in all of Baldur's Gate, meets the second biggest one, and they don't know how to act "right," but their version of right ends up being healthier than anything else they might have ever been capable of.

UGH, anon.

Do not SEND ME DOWN THIS RABBITHOLE.

You couldn't pry soft dorky lovestruck idiot Durgetash from my dead claws.

I think they committed horrible atrocities together.

I also think they were so sweet on each other, it would make Bhaal gag.

#baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #enver gortash #durgetash #dark urge

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inside-lees-mind · 11 months ago

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Naruto Men Smash Or Pass

Naruto Uzumaki: Pass

Just not interested like that. I don’t know.

Sasuke Uchiha: Pass

I go back and forth between saying adult Sasuke is fine as hell to saying I hate Sasuke so I’ll go ahead and pass bc I’m fed up.

Sai: Smash

YALL SEEN WHEN HE HELD KABUTO DOWN???? I STARTED BARKING. HOWLING EVEN.

Shikamaru Nara: Smash

Do I need to explain? CMON.

Choji Akimichi: Smash.

I love him. I want him to know that. He’d be so sweet too. I’m jealous of Karui (and him tbh, she’s so cool and prettyyy)

Kiba Inuzuka: Smash

You are LYING if you say you don’t want him. He’s so fine.

Shino Aburame: DOUBLE SMASH

First of all, he’s canonically PACKING. Second of all, he deserves better. Third of all, he’s fine as hell. And lastly, he’s literally the love of my life. I just know he’d treat me well.

Neji Hyuga: Smash.

SMASH SMASH SMASH SMASH. Sexy man. And he deserves better.

Rock Lee: SMASH.

I just know he got that motion in the ocean yall. CMON. And he’s so sweet. He’d treat his partner like they’re royalty! Cmonnnn

Kakashi Hatake: Smash.

We can recreate those books. That’s all I’m saying on this.

Might Gai: Pass

First pass in a while. Not interested. I don’t like guys like him. Plus, idk if I’m being crazy but he literally uses Lee and Kakashi says that he does Kakashi’s Novel. And honestly, making Lee commit a CRIME for you is crazy. But is that filler? Not count? Idk. Either way, he’s still a pass.

Yamato: Pass

Not interested. Weird face tbh. He’s cool tho.

Itachi Uchiha: SMASH

DO I NEED TO EXPLAIN MYSELF???

Obito Uchiha: pass.

Maybe I’m unreasonable but I can’t stand him. Bro misinterpreted and started a war???? And he’s the cause of like all my confusion for like almost all 500 episodes of Shippuden. Bad taste in my mouth.

Orochimaru: SMASH.

I told yall I don’t smash the bad ones, for the most part, but… yall. Boruto Orochimaru can GET it. I want them to step on me ngl.

Kabuto: PASS. In fact? I’m stabbing him.

HATE HATE HATE HATE HATE THIS MAN WITH EVERY FIBER OF MY BEING. most hated anime men of all time for me are this guy and Shaiapouf from hxh.

Suigetsu: SMASH.

Don’t lie to yourselves, at LEAST once you’ve thought about how hot he is.

Not a man but honorable mention:

Karin Uzumaki: SMASHHHHH

Sasuke never deserved her. Sasuke deserves nobody tbh. I hate him, did I mention that?

Anyways back to the men:

Gaara: SMASH

I don’t need to explain myself

Kankuro: SMASH SMASH SMASHHH..HMM…SMASH

I’m obsessed with this man. Tho Shino has been the one on my mind recently.

This is it for now. I’m tired. I saw somebody do this, so I thought I’d put up my opinions bc… 😈

#naruto #naruto smash or pass #naruto Shippuden #naruto shitposting #Shino aburame #shino #naruto Shino #kiba inuzuka #kiba #naruto Kiba #Kakashi Hatake #Sasuke Uchiha #naruto Uzumaki #Kankuro #Gaara #karin uzumaki #suigetsu

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ominous-horse-noises · 8 months ago

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final finale thoughts!!

things i loved about the finale

QUEER GODDESS PATHEON YEAAAAAAH!!! i thought it was such a good way to find a happy medium between kristen committing to a worldview that felt authentic and nuanced without being catholic™ about it

everything to do with the scene of Ankarna trying to offer retribution to each of the bad kids, and each of them making peace with past wrongs instead of continuing to stew in it. i love growth!!!

FIG AND KRISTEN MIRRORING ANKARNA AND CASSANDRA

everything to do with mazey and fabian. of all the fantasy high couples aside from fidayda, these two feel the most like they make sense together- they have similar interests, they have similar values, fabian had a crush on her even when she was being 'uncool' (eg. twister) and how mazey actually picked up on that and appreciated the way he used his perceived coolness to extend it to others who might be picked on otherwise. this is the couple i most hope go the distance even post aguefort adventuring academy (again, aside from figayda ofc but i literally cannot imagine those girls breaking up over anything)

fabian's fetus sibling outnemesising him despite fabian building an animosity towards them the whole season before they were even conceived. peak fantasy high insanity

controversial but i thought the maryann/gorgug being introduced and canonised in all of 15 minutes was hilarious. it was very teen of them in a way that felt authentic. my ideal scenario for them is an end of year fling that becomes amicable exes bc they truly have nothing in common beyond thinking the other is hot (real of them) but i dont have a strong opinion on whether they should break up or not

also maybe controversial but i like that kalina is straight up bloodthirsty. she felt like an equal opposite to bakur- rather than being a devoted servant who became corrupted by proxy, she was trying to corrupt her deity into a form she preferred. thematically it extends to the complementary opposites thing ankarna and cassandra have going on (though i get it might be a reach).

"... thats a four. you know what it's for we don't have to talk about it"

squeem

riz coming in clutch with the character arc right at the last moment. i joked ab his neuroticism being part of his natural swag, but im glad murph not only made sure riz FINALLY addressed the way he was burning himself out, but also that by extension, he was burning out both fig and kristen bc riz has a very calculated idea of 'success' and while he had the best intentions, those two dont fit neatly into it

THE HOLD PERSON OVER THE LAVA??? RIZ'S 'very good on paper, but no practical application."??? i screamed

a second blimey-related divine intervention roll by K2 leading her to getting pinnochioed into a real straight british girl, in real non-dnd britain, is the best thing thats ever happened in fantasy high. a simulacrum was so powerful brennan had to do the dnd equivalent of sending her to a barn upstate.

adaine and aelwyn talking about killing their mother over icecream can be something that is so personal...

siobhan's incredible play with the earworm??? phenomenal, i gasped out loud

fig maybe moving into fabian's house even after she drops out so fabian won't be alone again... what if i threw up blood actually

i liked kipperlilly copperkettle being confirmed to be rotten to the core. 'the ritual looks very different when one accepts rage willingly' GOOD!!! i like evil ambitious teenage girls who try to burn the world down to get what they want. i get why they didnt bring her back, that detail definitely cemented her as in the zayne/penelope category of 'past villains who could possibly be redeemed'

FIG AND AYDA MY LOVES!!! sorry but not even the lesbian goddesses are doing it like these two. brennan put his whole pussy into creating ayda aguefort and my life has been changed forever

zac once again dming K2's alternate universe campaign

things i hated

ik it was payoff to the running bit and it made me cackle when it was revealed, but the implications of hallariel and gilear having a baby are so bad to me. fig talks up gilear a lot, and sure, he came around to being a good dad to her, but gilear has objectively been a shit stepdad to fabian and hallariel... is hallariel. its got to sting was watch your mom be basically catatonic for your entire life, and then suddenly prove that she was capable of being an present mother the whole time- just not for you. im hopeful that senior year will address this though!! lou has always been so good giving his characters' weighty emotional arcs that feel satisfying

i dont like the implication of trackerbees getting back together. i never thought bladebees was good beyond a realistic rebound, but trackerbees was SO codependent together, i dont think its a coincidence that kristen had her best emotional intelligence moments when forced to think things through on her own. tracker always struck me as kind of a 'fixer' type, like she feels most comfortable with someone she can act caretaker-y to (hence bouncing off kristen to another girl who had similar issues). i really reaaaally hope they dont regress back into their s2 dynamic

ruben's memory wipe. i thiiink the implication is that those who were the most willing to follow through on porter's orders maintained more of their memories bc they were in control of themselves and those who didn't were compelled into obedience (which might be why ivy and oisin remember more), but it wouldve been nice to actually see the lucy/ruben close friendship brennan said they had with him sobbing and apologising to her

it felt very weird that kristen didnt get some kind of resolution to her yearlong gentle prodding at bucky?? i think ally got sidetracked with the possibility of kristen getting back together with her ex that it kind of slipped from their mind (maybe bc to them the ankarna vision of her upbringing was kristen resolving her feelings towards her family but still), but considering all of elmville was coming apart, i feel like bucky's faith could've been swaying into doubt pretty easily. idk maybe bc ive become a trackerbees hater over the season but it felt annoying that that was what ally focused in on and not their character's more meaningful relationship with her little brother

#dimension 20 #fantasy high junior year #fhjy #fantasy high #riz gukgak #adaine abernant #fabian seacaster #gorgug thistlespring #figeroth faeth #kristen applebees #fhjy spoilers #squeem

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joonlaksme · 1 year ago

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Sign Here: Chapter Three

Sign Here Masterlist

Summary: All of Min Yoongi’s partners never knew what he truly wanted. Too scared to tell them to their face, he decides to just invest into a professional. He didn’t know you were exactly what he was looking for.

Pairing: Min Yoongi X Reader

-> Genre: Yoongi x Dominatrix!reader, Smut

-> Warnings for this Chapter: You with other clients, Yoongi has tattoos >_<, nipple play, pain play, spit play, throat fucking (gagging, choking, coughing), a lil bratty!Yoongi

-> Word Count: 2,700+

A/N: I’m actually proud of how this came out so I hope you enjoy!!

Chapter 3: Act One

Yoongi isn't sure what to do right now.

He's sitting on the couch in the living room of one of his closest friends, Kim Namjoon, as he fixes him a cup of coffee. The truth is, Yoongi told him that he had something he wanted to tell him. However, as he sits in the room listening to low volume jazz, playing on a record player while he messes with loose threads on throw pillows, he starts to rethink his decision. The crackling on the track couldn’t distract him enough. What would his best friend think?

Why did he even care that much?

Yoongi didn’t often confide in his friends for things. He knows it isn’t exactly healthy but he has always been one to deal with problems and decisions by himself. Now that he’s getting into a new relationship- BDSM at that, although he isn’t regretting his decision, he is iffy about whether he should share it with others. He knows no one is entitled to his thoughts but he wants to learn how to get more comfortable talking to his friends about personal things. Now that Yoongi is sitting on his best friend’s couch, he might as well commit. Why else would he be here?

“So, what’s the sudden request for a meet up about?” Namjoon walks up to him, a cup of tea in his hands. His eyes fill with concern because Yoongi has never so nervously called him before. He was usually calm, collected, and straight forward. Namjoon was the guy that gave him a new outlook on situations when he knew he needed to turn to someone. There is no judgment.

“You know how…a few months ago, I broke up with Ae-min.”

Namjoon nods as he sits back in his seat, adjusting the volume on his jazz music. “Did she try to talk to you again?”

Yoongi shakes his head briefly, “Rather, I got in a relationship. With someone else!”

Noticing how off character this was of Yoongi, the taller man places his tea cup down on his coffee table and lays his concern on the back burner for now. “Ah hyung, that’s great! When do I get to meet them?” His eyebrows wiggle, a grin popping on his face. Just the mood of Yoongi’s friend settles his nerves. Namjoon’s smiles are contagious.

Having a good judgment of character, Namjoon always took it upon himself to meet Yoongi's newest relationship. Ae-min was a woman that had been a particular thorn in Namjoon’s side. For the ten months the two were together, he could tell something was off. Whenever he was around, she was a bit too touchy; too flirty to someone who she knew was her boyfriend’s best friend.

It was when she pushed him against a wall at a party and tried to force a kiss on him when Namjoon had gotten the hint. No amount of alcohol would be able to shift him to betray his friend. When he was sobering up the next day, he called Yoongi about the ordeal. They officially broke up the very next day.

“That’s what I wanted to actually talk to you about the most. It’s not really the standard relationship that you think it is. I don’t think I’m ready to move on to something else yet.” Yoongi explains.

This leaves Namjoon further confused and it shows up on his face. It was understandable as Yoongi and his ex had been apart for almost 3 months. He rests his hot cup on the table and leans back in the plush of the couch before crossing his arms, “Then, what do you mean?”

Yoongi messes with his fingers for a second before just coming out with it. “I’ve decided to hire a professional dominatrix.” But it comes out more like a question than a statement.

One beat of silence. Then two.

“Woah. Wow.”

Namjoon rubs the back of his neck, breaking eye contact as he stretches for a moment. That wasn’t exactly the reaction Yoongi was expecting.

“I have a lot of questions but…honestly? Good on you. After what you’ve been through, I think it’s great that you’re moving on.” Namjoon looks back at him and smiles, showing his dimples. “I can ask you the details later but for now, can we finally watch this movie? I’ve been wanting you to see it for a while.”

Settled with Namjoon’s comments, Yoongi takes a sip of his coffee and gestures towards the television with a tilt of his head. “It better be scary.”

“This will be our final play.” You mutter into your client’s ear, her hair firmly in your grasp. Your fingers made a mess of what was previously mid-length, neat scarlet waves. She nods in confirmation, not being able to reply with the gag in her mouth. “Good.” And you gently tap her cheek.

Then your phone dings. You sigh because you swear you put it on silent before starting today's session. Maybe this one was broken. You pick it up and read the message.

Mr. Min - Friday? Not sure I can do that but I’ll let you know

You pat the floor twice and your client scrambles on the floor to crawl at your fingertips. You sit on her back as she holds herself up by her hands and knees. She quivers from your weight and whines but holds her ground.

You - Absolutely. I’ll be there around seven if there aren’t any change in plans

There’s a knock on his door and he has to look at the mirror near the entrance to see if he’s presentable before opening it. As expected, it was you, here at seven on the dot.

You walk in, black boots heavily clacking on the wooden floors of the entrance. You look around to what is immediately the living room after the first hallway. A deep gray couch with plants around the walls and near doors, some real and some fake.

It was only when you walked in that Yoongi realized he had no idea how this would start. Why is he so nervous?

“I got this for you.” You turn your head to him and hand him a gift bag. The top of it is covered with tissue paper. “Don’t open it yet.”

Yoongi can’t help but be curious for what’s in the bag. What did you give him? He places it near his shoe rack for now.

You take off your jacket and hang it on the rack at the entrance before walking up to the couch. You sit down, no invitation needed, and cross your legs. Then, you clap so loud it causes Yoongi to flinch.

“Today, we’re just going to get to know each other. Okay, darling?” You look back at him.

A shiver runs down his spine and he mindlessly walks and sits next to you. He nods, waiting for you to do or say anything. A couple of moments pass by as you get comfortable on his couch, twirling your finger absentmindedly on the soft texture of the couch.

“Take off your shirt and lay on my lap.”

You say it in such a careless way that it confuses Yoongi just a little bit. Why does he have to take off his shirt?

“What-“

And before he can finish his question, you’re lurching towards him and he shuts his mouth quickly when your fingers hold his chin. You not-quite-glare but challengingly stare at him while sinking into the brown of his eyes and him, the color of yours. One of your eyebrows go up and you let go to lean back on the couch, arms now spread on the back, his head close to your fingers. Now, you’re looking at him.

He does as you say, pulling his shirt over head and revealing his tattoos in full. A chain of blue roses cover his arms and almost continue to his shoulders. Instead, they run down his chest, the amount of flowers thinning and becoming smaller until it’s down his stomach. It is just enough to be covered with a simple long sleeve shirt. They were intricate and the details make it more gorgeous and life-like. Yoongi doesn’t have defined abs; he’s built perfectly and is just your type.

He usually is never looked at and analyzed like this often when his shirt has been off. His nipples go hard in the cold of the room and goose bumps rise on his skin. He resists covering his arms for warmth and comes over to you with as much confidence as he can muster.

You pat your lap, “c’mere.” It’s a bit cheerful, as if you’re treating him like a dog and he can’t deny that it makes him feel some type of way, his heart jumping out of his chest.

He rests the back of his head on your lap and he’s puzzled as to where this can possibly lead to.

Your fingers trace every stem and root of the tattooed flowers on his arms and make their way inwards. They ran down his chest with feather-like touches. Yoongi has to resist the urge to get closer for more of your warmth and instead he finds himself letting out the smallest sigh. He arches his back when your finger grazes his nipple.

“Sensitive here?” You ask in a mumble.

It’s rhetorical, he knows. It’s obvious that he is but he never had the courage to tell his exes and past flings that. Sure, he would take advantage of it when he would masturbate but no one has ever taken the chance to see for themselves. Except you. Maybe it’s because you’re a professional. You flick one and a smile grows on your face when his breath stutters.

“I would love to make you cum just like this.”

He wants to moan louder but he’s not used to being vocal. You can tell by the way he bites at his lips and little whines come from the back of his throat but don’t come out in full force. You know that is just something you’ll have to train him to do. You focus on playing with his nipples, pinching, flicking and rubbing them until he’s arching his pretty back closer to your hands.

It’s when you graze your nails up his pecs that he lets out a full blown moan. Red lines on his pale skin show up in your nails’ wake from its pressure. What stops you is his hands grabbing yours.

“Wait,” He’s out of breath. His eyes are blown out, cock making a clear outline in his pants and he shuffles his hips side to side as if it will help him gain release.

“Yucca?” You offer his safe word just in case he forgets it. Immediately he shakes his head.

So you pull his hands off of yours and continue your ministries.

“Fuck…”

He shivers again but this time it’s not because he’s cold. In fact, he feels like he might start sweating. He thought you were joking about making him cum with just his nipples but the longer you do this, the more he starts to believe you.

“Why’d you stop me?” You tug.

His teeth press together, arching, “This is a-a lot.”

One of your hands moves away from his nipples to dip into his newly agape mouth. When your fingers hit his tongue, he instinctively wraps his lips around them.

“This okay?” You say in this babying voice while your finger motions are anything but sweet. Your fingers are rougher, nails involved more than before. The fingers in his mouth are close to thrusting down his throat.

He’s so hard and you haven’t even touched his dick.

He nods almost immediately at your question, small humps in the air as he really starts to feel the texture of his pants. Why would he wear underwear in his own home? Well, he wasn’t expecting to be making this much of a mess in them. Gray sweatpants were the worst thing to wear because the wet spot on it couldn’t be hidden even if he tried.

You pull your fingers out of his mouth, spit attached to them before you swap hands. You coat and swirl your wet fingers around his sensitive nipples and with his okay, stuff the two from your other hand, down his throat until he’s gagging on it.

It’s more intense than he thought for your first session but he knows what he signed up for. He is the one who checked all those things down in the contract. He reaches to touch his cock just a bit for a glimpse of relief and a clear head but then you move your fingers from both his mouth and his chest.

“Baby…” You rub up and down on his tattooed arms. “You know better, don’t you?”

He looks into your eyes, his own glazed with lust. You notice the way he tries to subtly roll his eyes.

“Don’t you?” You repeat yourself, surprising him by pushing your fingers on his tongue. “Speak.”

“Y-yesh.” He gets out the sound even with your fingers in his mouth.

Your fingers run closer down his throat and he tenses. “Then…why did you even try it?”

He can feel himself twitching in his pants again. He’s realizing just how close he is to the edge.

You thrust your fingers down his throat again, watching tears build up in his eyes. He gags again, spit gathering at his lips. It doesn’t help when your finger are back to his nipples, even meaner than before.

“Wa-“ He tries to get out the ‘wait’ but the gagging is too much and instead, he chokes on it. You pull your fingers back to the top of his tongue as he coughs and squirms in your hold.

You fake a pout, rolling his nipples between two fingers and then running your nails down his chest once again.

“Fuck, wait wait, gonna-“

You lean down, pressing a kiss on his forehead and you mumble there. You talk to him soothingly and before he knows it, he’s shivering and making a mess in his sweatpants. His hands jump up and you grab them in yours, watching as he cums untouched. His eyes clenched tightly while he thrusts in the air, groans flowing from his lips and you do nothing but watch it all happen.

It’s not often that your clients cum without some type of lower stimulation so this is just a treat. You can’t deny how turned on you are.

When he’s lowered to trembles, you let go of his hand and kiss his forehead again. “Y’okay?”

His eyes open slowly, blurry and the light coming from the ceiling doesn’t help.

“Holy shit.” He puddles in your lap. He grips your thigh in a way you would call lovingly before looking into your eyes. “I’ve never done that before.”

“A lot of people haven’t.” You push your hand in his hair, saliva already dried on your fingers and his chest. You playfully flick at his nipple again and he moves away, letting out a small sound of disapproval. “I’ve learned a lot about you. You have quite the pain kink, don’t you?”

Yoongi presses his lips together before mumbling, “maybe.”

It’s either you don’t hear him or you choose to not acknowledge it. “How do you feel?”

It’s genuine and warms his heart. He hides his eyes behind his hair, feeling how uncomfortable it is in his pants. “I really need to take a bath.” And he lets out a small scoff.

“Can I help you out?” And you continue with a joke, “No extra charge.” Your fingers twirl in his hair, massaging his scalp.

“Well in that case…” He lingers his sentence, sarcasm dripping from his words.

Yoongi looks at his pants on the floor, grimacing at the sight of it inside-out. He’s already soaked to his chest in hot water and he can feel his muscles relaxing under the bubbles and smell of lavender in the air.

You’re there, gently rubbing a sponge on his arms. “I want to get to know you-“

Yoongi lays back on the edge of his bathtub, eyes meeting yours, “You know I can’t trust you when you say that now, right?”

You stop your movements to let out a laugh, “To be honest, I was trying to learn about what you liked.” You dip the sponge in the sudsy water again and gently rub it on his arms, “Dare I say, I helped you learn something that you like.”

Yoongi chuckles and although he’d like to say something sassy, he holds himself back and gets comfortable in the steam and the feeling of your touch.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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#min yoongi x reader #sign here #bts smut #bts fanfic #gender neutral fanfic #sub!bts #sub!yoongi #kpop smut #dom!reader

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blush-blush-imagines · 2 years ago

Note

Reference from Brooklyn 99, how would some of the boys react if we just said "If I run and leap at (Name), he will most certainly catch me in his arms" and then proceeded to run full force at them while they're carrying stuff. (You can just ignore this if you don't understand this or don't want to do this.)

I was given 'some' and immediately ignored my own rules and did 'all', that's fun.

Still, finally cracking down and writing all *checks notes* 2 requests I've gotten.

(Please feel free to send in requests, I'd love to have more to work with)

Nimh

Oh it is such a rough thing for poor Nimh.

Problem A), the call alone is a little jump scare to him, and now his heart is freaking out

Problem B), he’s now faced with the dilemma of either dropping everything, or letting you eat shit on the pavement. He’d like neither to happen, but he’s not dumb enough to think he could do both

He eventually commits to catching you, but that just leads to

Problem C), he is not very strong and he can barely hold you

Give him the courtesy of keeping a foot on the ground to balance out your weight, yeah?

Volks

You joke about it sometimes before you ever commit to the bit

And every single time you do he insists to you that he will make zero effort to catch you

But you know Volks very well at this point.

And you know, among other things, that he is a dirty fucking liar

So you can only imagine your personal childlike glee when you finally do it and he does, in fact, catch you without hesitation

He insists it’s because if you fell and like, broke your elbow or something, that’d be terrible. Medical bills and all that.

For his sake, you’re ignoring that his face is growing redder by the second.

Kelby

No hesitation 100% of the time

First of all, holding you is extremely easy for him, but also he just finds carrying you to be romantic as hell

Oh he’ll cringe if he happens to be dropping something heavy, like a weight, but he still goes for you, that’s his priority

Still, he likes looking for opportunities to show off, and carrying you around like it’s nothing is prime show off material.

He might even get in a couple squats. He knows they go appreciated.

Eli

It’s a coin flip with Eli

Though if there’s a chance you’d genuinely injure yourself he’ll probably catch you

But it’s fair game to just let you crash if it’s carpet or grass. Because he thinks it’s just a little funny.

He also occasionally makes you pay the ‘catch tax’

It’s 5 dollars to at least partially make up for the drink that just died on the ground for your goofs.

Anon

Really, shame on you, you should know better.

He makes no attempt to catch you

In fact, he finds the way you end up crashing into the wall kinda funny.

Like watching a cat really fuck up a jump.

Beyond the fact that he’s kind of a stickler with his physical contact to begin with, a lot of the things he carries around are very easily breakable

So yes it’s rude, but frankly he’s not about to shell out 1000 dollars for a new laptop because you thought you could make a goofy point- because you couldn’t.

Garret

Garret doesn’t even miss a beat

He’s got you held up in one arm and whatever it was he was holding cradled in the other

While he thinks that it was certainly an odd thing to do, it was pretty cute.

Not hard to do. He thinks most things you do are cute.

Gives you a little kiss and gently sets you back down

Don’t get overconfident though. If he’s holding an animal, the animal gets priority. They’re more fragile.

He still feels really bad about it though. You think he might cry

Dmitri

Dmitri also goes for the catch every time

It adds to his suave and romantic charm, obviously.

However, as the type to prioritize romance over basic logic on occasion, he’s also prone to forgetting that he’s often holding his drink of choice

No it’s fine that his foot just got doused in hot coffee, no he’s not getting a third degree burn

Appreciate the romance, he’ll go see someone about it later

Ichiban

Like Anon, Ichiban hesitates, because if he’s holding something, it’s likely expensive.

However, unlike Anon, he makes the fatal mistake of still trying to catch you

And it worked maybe once. He’s still riding that high though.

He can handle it!

…But also this case of shenanigans that he has never told you to stop doing has cost more in equipment that either of you are ready to admit out loud.

You may or may not have pitched in to replace several cameras, controllers, and lavaliers

William

He tries very very hard to get you to stop charging him before contact is made

It’s a flurry of paperwork, because he does catch you

Says it’s the least he could do as the doting boyfriend he is

Though he does awkwardly dismiss himself from in after a moment.

While carrying you around is quite romantic, he won’t disagree with that, but also those papers were kind of important and he should get those together ASAP.

People have pets in need, and they can’t get it without the information getting where it needs to be.

He promises to give you a good cuddle once it’s all sorted, however.

Myx

There’s a very direct correlation between what exactly he’s holding and how okay he is with dropping it to scoop you

Electronics? Hard no, those are pricey to replace

Instruments are also frequent victims, and it depends on its fragility.

He tried to catch you with his leg once, except all he actually did was end up kicking you in the gut on the way down

He apologized about it for fifteen minutes straight.

But if it’s something sturdy, he has no problem with chucking it straight down and scooping you up into a whole ass cuddle.

Stirling

Oh please don’t do that outside

He’s fine with it inside and at night. It’s very attractive, even. Smooth and charming as he sweeps you off your feet before you can even make the jump.

But in the middle of the day it’s very bad for both of you

He can’t hold his parasol and you at the same time, it’s not happening

So get ready to either hit the deck or get caught on fire with him, depending on how much time he gets to think about it

Scale

He screams at first

There’s a loud clatter of knives, but he’s got you!

Scale insists very hard that he did not shriek like a little baby at you almost impaling yourself on his knives

Instead he scolds you over it

I mean come on, you spent an entire afternoon to keep his assassination deadline on you years away

What’s the good in wasting that, he could’ve done better things with his afternoon if you were gonna die a couple months later anyway

Sven

Puts no thought into whatever he’s holding, he just tries to hold you on top of it

It’s very uncomfortable every time, why do you keep doing that

It also doesn’t register to him that it’s his need to multitask it that results in you injuring yourself

He starts doing it to you to prove a point, and thinks he’s doing it better because he doesn’t get hurt

He has not realized it’s because you actually drop everything to catch him

But it’s still fun, and you kinda don’t want to ruin it for him.

Cole

He doesn’t even flinch

It’s like he anticipated you’d do this exact thing

And unlike some of the other boys he doesn’t even think when he drops whatever he’s holding.

Unless it’s something on the more… incriminating side. At that point he dodges you, dodges any questions, and quickly dismisses himself from the conversation entirely.

Sure it’s entirely possible there’s a shattered plate of hot food at his feet now, but that doesn’t matter because you’re here, being contently held in his arms

He uses it as an excuse to keep holding you

Poe

It what fucking world do you think he could hold you?

He drops his coffee and his school papers

Luckily they don’t damage each other, but w o w that was a close call

But beyond losing his morning caffeine and having to gather his work back up, you’ve hurt his wrists and also your entire body

No one has won here.

He also just. Literally can’t hold you. He’s a tiny frail goth boy, he crumbles if he’s holding anything heavier than 20 pounds.

Once you’re back on your feet, he asks if you could at the very least help him gather up his papers. They’re worth like 20% of his grade.

Cashew

Already a bit on the twitchy side, when he notices you speeding like a bullet train, he squeaks.

What exactly do you think you’re doing??? He’s been relocating his books all afternoon, you can see that he’s holding like, 8.

But, visibly cringing, they hit the floor, because he knows that he can’t hold them and you at the same time

One of them falls wide open, pages down. He tries not to think of the potential folded pages and boxed corners.

Especially because of how pleased you look!

…But the second he can set you down he’s on the ground checking for damages.

Seth

Seth is the absolute king of the ‘casually carrying around hazardous objects’ club

But unlike everyone else in said club, he has no qualms about chucking whatever it is on the ground and scooping you up.

This has resulted almost unanimously in making more hazards and chaos, but he hasn’t fussed about it once

He gets to give you a lil snuggle and it has the potential to cause crime. It’s a win-win for him!

You are an accessory to arson now though, so watch out, yeah?

Logan

Man goes into bullet time

It’s just a race to him to see if he can free an arm before you inevitably ‘plink’ off him and crash into the floor

Like. He does it, no real problems

But he immediately sets you down and scolds you for it

Because that was dangerous! What if he got hurt? What if you got hurt? What if he was holding something breakable, or bringing his fire axe somewhere?

All of those sound awful!

Still, he ruffles your hair and plants a little kiss on the top of your head. He isn’t mad, he just wants to make sure you’re being safe.

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inquisitornocturn · 3 months ago

Text

⊱─ 𝕤𝕡𝕖𝕔𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕤 & 𝕡𝕙𝕒𝕟𝕥𝕠𝕞𝕤 - 𝕔𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝟚 ─⊰

➺ 𝕡𝕒𝕚𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕘: Cazador Szarr/f!reader the dhampir/spawn!Astarion

➺ 𝕥𝕒𝕘𝕤: no y/n is used, rating - E, dead dove do not eat, incest (father/daughter), POV second person, grooming, smut, canon-typical violence, humiliation (but like hot humiliation), Woe is involved like a grinding toy, exhibitionism, facefucking, non-consensual watching (does this count as cucking?), praise kink, anal fingering, anal, vampiric bites, blood drinking.

➺ 𝕡𝕝𝕠𝕥 𝕤𝕦𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕪: You think you have everything you want, a loving father, one of his spawn to entertain you and protection of a vampire coven, but a master and his spawn have you caught in a middle, their jealousy, desire for control and possessiveness influencing their actions. Yet you don't want to be a doll pulled by strings, you want to be the Lady of the House, Lady Szarr, respected just like your father, Cazador, is. But that might not be what Cazador himself has planned for you, and maybe not what Astarion has in mind either. Can you stand against them - only time will tell.

➺ 𝕨𝕠𝕣𝕕 𝕔𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕥: 7,389

𝕒𝕦𝕥𝕙𝕠𝕣 𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕖: Astarion has his own plans to make his situation more cushy, alas the daughter is probably not the diplomat he should've chosen to make Cazador relent in regards to him. A strict lesson ensues. enjoy♡~

➺ 𝕔𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥: [link] | [on AO3] |

Something is on his mind, you know this much because of how Astarion seems to be lost in thought doesn’t escape your attention. With a candelabra and some wine, you are spending your early night at the top of the palace, sharing a table with the vampire spawn who insisted on keeping you company despite not saying a word since then. You are reading, or rather were reading, until Astarion’s unusual stillness finally draws your attention to him. He has a glass of wine too, you graciously poured him one, but the elf hasn’t touched it.

You watch Astarion for a moment longer, seeing his crimson gaze looking into empty space, past the battlements into the nothingness far away. One leg is draped over the other, one hand resting on his knee while his right is used to prop his chin with. Candlelight flickers in his silver curls and you find him beautiful, in a different way than your father, but beautiful nonetheless, and for a moment you forget yourself too, watching the spawn not moving besides blinking from time to time, his chest moving evenly with his calm breaths. Today he’s wearing just his pants and a shirt, the doublet most likely left back at the Kennels to which you’ve been once, when your father showed you some of the forbidden parts of the palace when he deemed you old enough and mature enough to understand why Cazador is running things in a way that he does.

Astarion finally notices your look that’s affixed on his face and turns his head.

“Seeing something interesting?” He asks and you snap out of your thoughts, downcasting your eyes immediately to the book in your hand.

“You’re unusually quiet.”

“You’re reading, I don’t want to interrupt.”

With a slight frown you look at Astarion, he never had issues interrupting you before, or taking you carnally whenever he wishes and is capable to. Something is amiss about him tonight and you’re not sure if you can guess correctly without him providing you the right answer.

You close the book after committing the page number on which you stopped to your memory and set it aside on the table, picking up your wine and taking a sip, not looking at him for a moment while the spawn still keeps his eyes on you, waiting for you to speak. He knows you will.

“I have been thinking.” As Astarion predicted you begin after another moment of silence and rise your eyes to his, meeting his and being unable to read anything in them. “About that night in the garden.” Your throat swallows on its own when the memory of him fucking your face comes back with a heat in your stomach.

“What about it?” Astarion asks and then sneers. “Are you going to complain, little dhampir? Was I too harsh?” Spawn’s words are mocking and they invoke a mix of embarrassment and shame that makes your cheeks begin to flush.

“No, that’s not-“ You pause, then exhale, trying to gather your thoughts. No, he wasn’t harsh, he was maybe rough, but you enjoyed it, more than you’d be willing to admit, especially right now. “You said something that night.”

“Did I? I may have. Was it before or after you served me?” Astarion keeps his mocking tone and you blush harder. You don’t know why him not taking you seriously, ridiculing you even, is getting to you in a way that you wish it didn’t. It’s making you want to please him, to gain his favor, to be praised in that purring tone of voice you heard before. You swallow again, nervous, trying to tell yourself to focus on what you want to say.

“You spoke of me seeing you as nothing but a slave.” You finally find your words despite the heat in your stomach moving lower, to your loins and you take another quick sip of your wine. Astarion’s eyes narrow as he watches you and finally he picks up his own glass, but does not taste the wine just yet.

“Are you about to tell me that I’m wrong? That you don’t see me as a mere slave to Cazador?”

You don’t respond right away, not sure how exactly you should reply, because you learned that Astarion’s temper can be as volatile as your father’s and you need to thread carefully.

“I think… I think I agree.” You begin slowly and when spawn’s eyes narrow even more, you rush to elaborate. “I’ve only known you as my father’s spawn. But I don’t see you as a slave, not really, not with you… with us…” Finding it hard to pick the right words you let your sentence trail off and Astarion’s expression smoothens out, he sighs.

“I see.” Is all he says for a while, then finally drinks from his glass, leaving it half empty when he sets it down. “Tell me, my little dhampir, is that how you wish to see me for the rest of your life?”

The words hang heavy in the air and you think of them before you give a slight shrug.

“I don’t wish to see you in any other way that you are, Astarion.”

Your reply makes the spawn laugh with bitterness and he rises an eyebrow at you while with his hand he reaches over the table and takes yours from where it rests in your lap.

“But darling.” Astarion’s voice becomes a seductive drawl and you glance at his hand covering yours. “I know you love your father, you love the power he wields. Over you, over me, over his other spawn.” He pauses until you rise your eyes to his which bore into yours with an alluring promise. Of what, you are not sure. “But don’t you think it would be better for us if he didn’t treat me like the others?”

You scrunch your nose, unsure what he means and your confused look makes the vampire spawn smirk, his fangs somehow looking longer in the candlelight at this moment.

“Think about it, little dhampir. Entire palace knows that your father graciously agreed to let you have some fun with me.” When your eyes widen with shock he chuckles. “Of course everyone knows, darling, it’s a palace, a confined place in which people talk to each other, naturally the word spread.” Astarion stops himself before he makes a sexual remark. He needs you to listen, he needs you to agree with him. “So just think, love, what are they saying if Master’s own daughter lets herself getting fucked by one of his wretched spawn?”

Realization comes to you and first your eyes widen a little more, then you deeply frown, beginning to chew on your bottom lip. You’re a Szarr, pride of your father, his bride eternal. How does it look like that you’re involved with a spawn, his most hated spawn, if the whispers you heard are correct? You know that Cazador punishes Astarion, but you only heard rumors of how severely. Reasons behind such treatment are a mystery to you still.

“What do you suggest?” Words slowly come past your lips and it’s as Astarion was waiting for exactly this response. His grin becomes wolfish, like a snarl of the beasts your father keeps in better conditions than his own spawn.

“I thought you would never ask.” He pulls your hand over the table and places his other on top, encasing your fingers with his palms. “I think Master giving me some privileges would be a start.”

“Privileges?” You echo, still with a frown creasing your brow and the spawn chuckles.

“Yes. Oh you know, like my own room at least. Master doesn’t allow you to your bed when you’re with me, having my own would simplify things, we wouldn’t need to sneak around, which is unbefitting for a lady like yourself.”

He’s right, you realize immediately. You’re the lady of the palace, what are you doing, getting fucked by Astarion in hallways and a garden like a common whore. Pride of your legacy that your father raised you with, stirs deeply in your chest and your shoulders straighten as if on their own. Astarion notices the change and knows that he has gotten through to you, easily too. Oh how easy you are. Secretly he gives bitter thanks to his Master for training you so well.

You ponder upon his words, glancing down at your hand in his and nod slowly.

“Yes, I suppose you’re right.”

As you stand and pull your fingers from Astarion’s grip, you see a flash of surprise before you turn your back to him.

“Where are you going?” The vampire spawn jumps to his feet too and you pause, giving him a look over your shoulder.

“I’m going to talk to father, what else.”

“Now?”

“Why not?” Not waiting for Astarion to reply you head for the door leading inside the palace, but he says nothing, just watches your back and how your dress moves with your steps. He knows better than you do that this might very well end in a disaster and he just wishes, no, hopes beyond hope, that you will handle your father as only a wife could, even if you’re not one in title just yet.

You, on the other hand, are not concerned. While you move through the dimly lit corridors and pass servants who nod to you with respect, you think over Astarion’s words again. What he said to you sounded reasonable, still does. It does not look good for someone of your status to sleep around with a mere spawn, you see it now, how did you not see it before? You don’t linger on this, you just know that you have to fix it and you are absolutely sure that your father will see reason. Why wouldn’t he, how you are seen reflects on his as well after all.

When you knock on Cazador’s study door you hear nothing from the inside so you peer in and find it empty. With a sigh you return to the ballroom, wondering where your father could’ve went and you decide to check the bedroom before you start chasing him around the palace. It doesn’t take you long to arrive there, corridors familiar so much that you could find your way with your eyes closed, and when you enter you finally find Cazador, clearly post bath, dressed only in a silky robe, who’s twin belonging to you is draped over a chair nearby.

He stops when you appear in the room and inquisitively rises an eyebrow.

“You come in a rush, daughter.” Vampire Lord comments and you approach him, feeling determined and he definitely can see it on your face too.

“Father, can we speak? About Astarion.”

Cazador’s face immediately loses his calm expression as he frowns and crosses arms on his chest.

“What about the boy?”

You started so bravely and now you falter, your fingers clench in your skirts as you try to think of a way to present what you and Astarion discussed. Cazador waits for a little longer for you to speak, but his patience clearly run out and the vampire walks to the dresser where fresh set of clothing is waiting for him. When your gaze follows your father, you notice Woe leaning against the wall nearby the cabinet.

With Cazador’s back turned to you, at last you find your voice and clear your throat.

“Father, I think you should give Astarion some leniency.”

“About what exactly?”

Gods, why it’s so hard to get your words out? You know you are right about this, you are sure of it.

“I think you should give him a room at least.”

Cazador was reaching for his clothes when his hand stops so that he can turn to you, Lord Szarr’s eyes narrow and you notice the dangerous way his jaw clenches.

“The boy deserves no such thing.”

“But father-“

Cazador practically swoops towards you, in two, maybe three, long strides he’s towering over you, casting a shadow like terror of some forgotten deep and you shrink in your skin. He sees your scared, pleading for mercy face, but does not care for it.

“Will you dare argue with me about the boy again, daughter?!” Cazador demands and you begin trembling in your dress, flashes of tortures reminding you of your place and what happens when you test your father’s patience. The knives, jagged glass, the hooks…

“Father, if you just hear me out-“

You only let out a short whine when his hand shoots up and grabs fistful of your hair, yanking your head back so harshly that your knees almost buckle beneath you. Cazador’s lips curl into a snarl and his eyes shine with fury.

“You fail to understand one thing, daughter.” The Vampire Lord begins slowly, his teeth clench with a pause to make sure you’re listening and your wide, teary eyes confirm to him that you do. “I and only I decide how each spawn is to be treated.” A hard tug on your hair and you cry out, your hands rising and fingers trying to pry father’s grip away to no avail. “Do you understand?!”

“Yes!”

“Was it the boy who put this idea in your head?” Another harsh tug and you nearly fall to your knees from pain, tears now spilling down your face that is contorted from agony, but you keep your eyes on his, you know you have to look, maybe the punishment will stop here if you do.

“Yes!” A choked out sob is your answer and Cazador’s teeth clench again. There’s real bloodthirst in the crimson sea of his eyes and he releases your hair with a pull backwards that makes you stumble with his motion, nearly falling.

“So the impudent, insolent child is trying to put ideas in your head, is that so?” Cazador eyes you with pure disdain, but you know him well enough to understand that the very notion of someone else influencing you fills him with rage. You’re his to control and to dominate over. “Has he so easily forgotten who you truly belong to, hm?” Suddenly there’s a dangerous smirk pulling at vampire’s lips and you tremble with fear of uncertainty. “I suppose I have to remind him then. And you, my dear daughter, that I am still the Master to you both.”

Your throat feels constricted as you try to swallow, your eyes wide with fear and he circles you, walking behind you, then heavy silence follows for a moment or two before you feel laces of your corset being pulled at harshly. So harshly that your body is tugged with each pull and you have to put effort in staying in your spot. You don’t dare to move, not even to wipe your tears now drying on your face and you just lower your eyes to the floor, worried about what might to come.

Piece by piece your dress comes apart at Cazador’s angry actions, you hear seams ripping and fabric straining when he tugs on your clothing as if it personally offended the Vampire Lord and it lasts until with one savage yank your skirts and everything underneath them ends up on the floor around your feet.

“Your shoes.” Cazador demands after standing straight again and when you rush to unlace your shoes and put them aside, in your peripheral you witness your father walk to the dresser, but not to pick up his clothes, no, his long fingers wrap around the curved shaft of Woe.

Naked, exposed and terrified you look at Cazador with your arms at your sides. Everything within you screams for you to try and protect your soft body that is no match for the staff it comes raining blows upon you, but you know better than to do that, you learned this lesson the bitter way.

When Lord Szarr turns to you, he’s still grinning and you meet his eyes, silently begging to be spared, but you know better. Cazador has an idea, a goal, and until he achieves that goal you are not going to be released.

“Sit.” A simple command, easy to follow and you drop first to your knees, then sit back on your heels and wait for another order until the knock on the door comes and your face drains of color. “Ah, wonderful, all the players are here. Come in!”

The moment door opens you realize what your father has in mind as you watch Astarion’s blank face betray his surprise at the scene before him. Spawn enters carefully, like a rat unsure if there’s a cat nearby, and closes the door behind him, the click of a latch sounding like a prison sentence in the silence of the room.

“Watch now, boy, and witness what a true power is.” Cazador uses the bottom of Woe to press it against the middle of your chest and shove you backwards. In the moment of falling you move your hands behind you before you drop fully on your back and look up at your father.

“Master, I don’t understand-“

“You put filth in my daughter’s head!” Words snap like a whip, they make you and Astarion both flinch in unison as Szarr patriarch walks behind you, but his eyes are firmly fixed on the spawn. “You think you can influence her just because I let her toy with you? No, boy, that’s quite stupid of you to presume that. And I ought to teach you a lesson through example. To show you who her true Master is and always will be, lest you get some grand ideas again.” Without even looking at you, Cazador orders again. “Spread your legs.”

Your face flushes with red but you do as told, meekly parting your legs and Woe’s bottom comes into view between them, swung at your right thigh.

“Wider.” You again obey and look downwards, unable to rise your eyes either to Cazador or Astarion, feeling humiliated, feeling stupid for thinking that you could reason with your father. “Witness how easily she obeys me, witness the true extent of my power over her. I could make her do this in front of a full ballroom.” Vampire grins as he speaks, clearly pleased that you show no signs of protest at his little performance.

“Master, I understand, it’s not necessary.” Astarion’s voice is so low it’s almost a whisper and you glance at him, seeing slight blush on his cheeks and tips of his pointy ears, while he clearly tries to avoid looking at you in this position. That submissiveness when confronted with your father’s authority evident in every fiber of spawn’s being.

“No, it is very much necessary, boy. You made me do this and you will watch. So look at her.”

You sense sheer power when Cazador commands and Astarion’s eyes are forced to focus between your trembling legs just in time for him to witness Woe beginning to get rubbed against your cunt. You glance down, seeing your folds gently enwrap the sides of the cold staff, the ridges of it, and how they rub between your tender flesh making you whimper. Your body responds to stimulation, your clit swelling even under rough grinding of the staff pole and you watch yourself becoming aroused, first signs of moistness appearing at your entrance and on the staff while it keeps being slid against you.

“Wider, my daughter, let him see what belongs to me. Show him how dripping wet you get for your father’s touch.” Cazador flaunts with clear smugness in every word and you do as he wishes, parting your legs even more, almost impossibly so while your body shivers in front of Astarion. Before you turn your eyes away in shame, you watch spawn’s Adam’s apple bobble as he swallows at the sight.

Woe moves for a little while longer, side of it that’s pressed to your increasingly moist cunt becomes smeared and Cazador lifts it to your face. With an embarrassed glance you realize that he wants you to clean it and you obey, because you always do. Pressing your tongue flat against the staff, you lick at it not unlike it’s a cock and your eyes wander to Astarion again who’s standing so still that not even a muscle twitches, except for hardness in his pants that you are sure your father sees as well. A satisfied chuckle fills the silence as Szarr patriarch appreciates the sight of you submitting so easily, or of his spawn, who clearly is scared but aroused. Maybe both at the same time, you don’t know, you don’t care to wonder. What matters right now that this little lesson the Vampire Lord wants to teach you both doesn’t become painful and you will do anything to avoid it.

“See how obedient she is? Such a good girl. Perhaps you should learn from her, child. Your disobedience is truly your most disappointing trait.” Cazador moves Woe away and you instinctively follow it with your tongue before you stop yourself and look at father who waves the magical tool towards the bed. “On the bed, on your back, head off the edge.”

Grateful not to sit spread on the floor anymore, you scramble to your feet and quickly walk towards the big bed, climbing into it and avoiding to look at Astarion. Cazador has fucked you in front of the spawn before, several times, but those times were more because he wanted to be watched, this time, however, it’s a lecture, and you’re the specimen that he is using to nail the point down – you are his.

After situating yourself just as the Vampire Lord instructed, your world turns upside down. You weren’t sure which way he wanted you to lie so you picked to hang your head off the right side of the bed, wanting to void facing Astarion again if possible.

“You – watch.” Cazador commands to Astarion and then you hear footsteps as your father approaches the bedside, sharp grin on his face not terrifying you anymore now that you realize that the lesson, however embarrassingly it may have started, might not end up in blood and pain.

“Father.” You breathe out more than say the word and Cazador pauses then slips his hand between the folds of his robe and parts them so that his hard length juts out like a guiding beacon of your life, maybe in a lot of ways it truly is, and you swallow despite difficulty to do so with your head hanging as it is.

“Open your mouth.” The vampire commands but this time it’s softer; not a request, not really, but an instruction issued almost lovingly. “Show the insolent brat just how obedient you can be for me, my dear daughter. Show him how you worship me.” His grin becomes slightly wider, malicious, and with a grip on the base of his cock, Cazador guides the tip to your lips.

At first he teases, running the velvety skin against the entire circle of your mouth, then begins to push it in, slowly, savoring the look in your eyes as your throat contracts the moment his cock begins sliding past the bend. You gag and your fingers clutch the sheets but you don’t pull back in any way. Lord Szarr buries himself deeply in the hot wetness of your mouth and you can’t see anything anymore, just the hems of his robe and his balls, hanging heavy above your face, swinging tantalizingly.

“The lesson here is, boy-” Cazador begins at the same time his hips begin thrusting. It’s slow at first, he’s not cruel enough tonight not to let you adjust, and you’re grateful for that because your throat relaxes more with each deep slide after the vampire mercifully withdraws to let you inhale. “-that my dearest daughter is mine and mine alone.” He casts a glance in Astarion’s direction, seeing his spawn aroused, swallowing feverishly at the sight of your complete and utter obedience. It makes Cazador feel victorious once again. “Watch her closely, observe how perfectly she performs her duty to me.”

Despite Cazador’s utter authority over two people in the room you feel his cock twitch as he begins to move faster. For a second you hear vampire’s nails scrape against the staff’s pole when you press your tongue to the underside of his length, making the tip of his cock press against the roof of your mouth. You don’t see much right now, but you don’t need to, you know your father better than anyone and in this moment you are confident that this lesson that he so cruelly wants to teach his spawn is slowly becoming equally about his pleasure.

A sharp inhale above you and he suddenly pulls out, thick saliva following the path of Cazador’s swaying erection the moment it leaves your mouth and you exhale with relief, the thrust before he retreated was a deep and long one, leaving you near out of breath. Your father smirks down upon you with clear satisfaction and steps aside, breaking the watery fluid still connecting him to you, then sets Woe aside, leaning it against the nearest wall.

“Get there.” Szarr waves a hand towards the middle of the bed and you sit up, spending a moment to adjust when the world spins for a second after you change position, then crawl where you have been directed and glance at your father again, waiting for more instructions. “On your stomach, girl.” As he speaks, Cazador climbs into bed too and while you lie down you can feel Astarion’s burning look wash over your body like flames of fire. You can’t really be sure if those flames are of passion or anger, you would need to look at him to confirm and you still refuse to do that, even if that would give you an answer you crave to know.

You don’t want Astarion to be angry, of this you are sure, but how your father is handling the situation… You can’t blame the spawn at all if he is angry.

While you try to find a comfortable position, the Szarr patriarch thoughtfully snatches the pillow from where it rests against the headboard and gives it to you. You give him a small smile of gratitude and affection mixed together, but whether it’s reciprocated you don’t see as the vampire turns to Astarion.

“See, child, my daughter is grateful for everything I give her, even if it’s just a pillow.” Cazador speaks while you remain quiet, just put the pillow under your head and hug it.

Yes, he’s right, you are grateful, but you’re more grateful that he’s not in a mood to hurt you tonight. Maybe too late, but you do realize what mistake it has been to try and tell your father how to treat his spawn, there’s limits to his tolerance and just like tonight, sometimes you have to learn them anew.

“Master, I am grateful too.” Astarion’s voice is barely above a whisper and you can identify notes of something akin to shame, but yet again you refuse to look at him, to really see what the spawn is feeling in this moment, because you’re just too afraid to provoke Cazador’s wrath that always comes so unpredictably and suddenly.

“Are you, boy? Clearly not as grateful as she is.” With these words you feel your father’s hands caress the mounds of your rear after he sits by your side, the mattress dipping under his weight with comforting familiarity.

“Master, please.” Again you hear something else besides submission and obedience in Astarion’s words, but you can’t identify it this time. What he is pleading for, to be able to leave or join, you are also not sure of.

“Please what?” Cazador mocks and you bite your bottom lip when he spreads the mounds, massaging them, pawing at them with sense of ownership. No answer comes and the Vampire Lord chuckles, then leans over your back, the elbow by your arm sinking into the bed underneath. “Keep them spread for me, my dear.” He whispers and you feel your face flushing again, but release the pillow and do as he says, gripping the flesh that he was holding just a moment and ago and pulling it to sides, exposing yourself for his desires. “Such a good girl, such obedient daughter.” Szarr croons with poisonous triumph, his cold breath felt on the back of your neck and you bite down harder.

Cazador’s fingertips press between your shoulder-blades then trail down your spine slowly, like an icy rivulet of water gliding over each subtle rise until it slips to your dutiful offering, circling the hole with one digit almost lazily until you let out a sound of whimper.

“How receptive she is.” Cazador muses out loud and you can imagine the look in his eyes, that cruel enjoyment of your utter belonging to him, where his word is akin to that of the Gods. “You will never have her this way, boy. You know why?” As he speaks he keeps circling, but lets out a soft gasp when the vampire starts pushing two fingers in, slowly and carefully, making sure you’re not in any discomfort.

“Why, Master?” You hear Astarion’s weak question, like he’s too unsure of what is going on to even rise his voice and Cazador chuckles, watching first joints of his fingers pass the rim, then second, until they are buried inside you to the knuckles. You grip your flesh tighter and let out another whimper when he starts moving them.

“Because I created her to be mine, child. She has been mine from the moment of conception and she will remain so until she perishes.” Father’s fingers begin moving faster and your body reacts: your hips buck upwards to meet his invading digits, you shudder slightly not from the effort to keep yourself spread for Cazador, but from pleasure you’re beginning to feel as your hole lubricates itself to ease the passage of the intruding insertion. “Hm. So receptive indeed.” This time Cazador’s words are for you and you flush harder, closing your eyes.

A moment of silence and you forget that you’re being watched, succumbing to the delight of father’s gentle succor, feeling more and more needy as desire steadily consumes your thoughts. Yet when Astarion speaks again, your eyes snap open, because for a blissful moment you completely forgot he’s there.

“Master, can I please go now?”

“I told you it’s a lesson, and you will remain to observe said lesson.” Cazador snaps sharply back at Astarion and his fingers curl inside of you, making you softly cry out, but this draws his attention back to you. “You will watch as I claim my daughter so that you have no stupid ideas about thinking you have any control over her from this point on, boy.”

“Yes, Master.”

Cazador leans over you again, his breath fawning this time against the back of your head and he chuckles ever so slightly as he scissors his fingers, stretching you wider.

“Spread them wider, my daughter, let him see how well you’re opening for me.” Your blush becomes fiercely obvious the moment words leave the vampire’s lips but you do as he says, of course you do, and pull at your mounds even wider. “Come closer.” Cazador instructs Astarion and you hear a handful of tentative steps towards the bed. You swallow, feeling almost overwhelmed with a whirlwind of emotions. “Observe.”

“Yes, Master.”

Your hole being is played with for a moment longer, and you are feeling almost physical sensation of their gazes on you, finding it difficult to inhale from desire and embarrassment mixed together, but then the fingers retreat, leaving you with a whimper at the back of your throat and a yearning.

“Such a good daughter to me. Now, keep yourself like that, let me show my wretched, incompetent spawn that he will never have what belongs to me.” Cazador moves and his robe gently brushes against your skin at the same time his arms entrap you between them when he leans over you. “You’re going to show just how exactly one obeys me, will you, daughter of mine?”

“Yes, father.” You huff from anticipation, your body shivering with desire and you nearly moan already when you feel his cock nudge at the hole he so carefully prepared for himself.

Cazador slips in deep, easily even, and this time you do cry out, your voice echoing in the room like a melody of bliss when he buries himself inside of you to the root.

“This is what it means to be mine.” The Vampire Lord says and you know it’s meant for you.

You want to look behind, to see his face, to see that glorious expression of lust in your father’s eyes that you love so deeply, crave for it like air, but instead you still keep yourself spread for him, too willing to disobey him even now, but your hips arch, lifting from the bed with your knees digging into the bed to support you, burying your chin deeper into the pillow. It’s quite uncomfortable but your need to please and be sated is bigger than the small physical discomfort of your position.

Above you an approving grunt escapes Cazador’s throat and he leans back, kneeling between your legs and grabs your hips, lifting them even higher now, then he finally begins to thrust with deep, precise and demanding pumps. Your eyes become heavy lidded and you moan every time he buries himself inside of you completely, quivering when his hips roll against yours with a sound of his skin against yours and your body responds with even more arousal, your cunt, unused but craving nonetheless, leaks your arousal first against your thighs, then onto the bed below.

“Look at her, boy. Truly look at her and tell me what you see.” Cazador demands and you finally watch Astarion come around the corner of the bed, his expression hard to read, especially when your focus is not purely on him, but he glances at his Master getting some sort of a sign, probably a nod, then kneels before the bed, before you, his eyes level with yours as he looks into them.

“She’s your daughter, Master.” Astarion obediently offers and Cazador chuckles, satisfied with the answer.

But now you see it, spawn’s desire, his anger, his frustration at being forced to helplessly watch you being fucked and either wanting to join in or have you all to himself. It’s impossible to tell, but as you two make eye contact, the Vampire Lord delivers a powerful thrust that makes you finally let go of your rear and bring your hands closer, gripping the pillow again. Szarr coldly chuckles as he watches Astarion’s expression before turning his gaze to observe himself taking you, pounding into you with ownership only he has over you.

“Look at him, daughter, he’s so jealous that it’s me taking you so sweetly.”

You hum in agreement amongst your moans, not because you truly see just jealousy, but because you won’t argue with your father, you’re incapable of doing so when he so deliciously pumps his cock inside of you, making your back arch like you want him even deeper than what he’s giving you right now, which is all of himself already.

“Grab her wrists, boy, and hold them down. Tightly.” When Cazador issues another command with his voice hoarse with pleasure, his hips slapping against you faster indicating his growing desire to fill you sooner rather than later, and Astarion obeys, snatching your wrists, prying your hands from the pillow and pinning your hands to the bed in front of you.

You look at him with your flushed face and your lips parted to let sighs of pleasure escape your throat. For some reason you find yourself incapable of breaking the eye contact, watching Astarion’s gaze becoming more and more obviously filled with jealousy, just as your father said, and you wish you could have him too, but you know that suggesting that now would be dangerous. Pleasure or not, this is still a lesson Cazador is teaching him.

“Astarion…” You manage with your own voice laced with strain of satisfaction and the spawn winces ever so slightly at that, his fingers gripping your wrists so tightly it hurts, but it also adds to your gratification, making you cry out louder, convincing Cazador that it’s his show of power alone that is making you respond so well. Yet, he doesn’t like you bringing up spawn’s name and you hear an annoyed tsk as he begins thrusting even harder.

“Daughter, you are going to look at the boy and tell him how much you love your father’s cock inside you.” Cazador’s voice is betraying his own physical strain but it retains that domineering edge it always caries, that brooks no argument, and your eyes move from Astarion for a moment in an instinctual response to look at your father, but then you look back at the spawn and lick your lips, wetting your mouth that has dried slightly from all the sounds you’ve been making so far.

“I… I love my father’s cock inside me.” You say and Cazador delivers a particularly punishing thrust, making you cry out and your fingers clench onto the bedsheets.

“More passion, dear.” He says with twisted satisfaction laced in his tone among his own deep breaths.

“I love when my father fucks me!” You try again and louder, watching Astarion’s eyebrows furrow. It’s almost as if he wants to either hit you or shove Cazador away and claim you for himself. Maybe both.

“Of course you do.” The Vampire Lord chuckles and grips your hips tighter for a moment, then he pauses, leaning over you before his right arm comes into view, skin of Cazador’s forearm pressing against your lips. “See, boy, my daughter is very special because she also is permitted one thing you never will be.”

Father doesn’t need to tell you explicitly what he is allowing you to do. With your eyes still on Astarion you part your lips wider, pressing them against Cazador’s flesh and bite down, waiting for the taste of sweet blood fill your mouth. Once it does, your eyes roll to the back of your head and you forget everything in your bliss.

“My beautiful daughter, so satisfied.” Cazador croons somewhere distant and all you feel is his cock in your ass and his blood in your mouth that your throat works eagerly to push down, to fill your stomach full of it. Only Astarion’s grip on your wrists, so painful when his nails break your skin, bring you back, and your eyelashes flutter when you focus on him once again.

This time you see rage in spawn’s eyes and with your moans muffled against Cazador’s skin you feel almost smug, superior to him. Here he is, Astarion, kneeling, holding your hands down, watching you experience pleasure that he never will. The pleasure of your father’s blood, the only thing that would grant him freedom from slavery he so despises. And you have it, just because you are your father’s daughter.

But then even this thought gets muffled and fades away as your body contracts with first signs of your climax approaching. You become aware of Cazador’s labored breathing somewhere behind your ear as he keeps pumping harder and faster, not knowing that his eyes are focused on his spawn, even in this moment dissecting the smallest changes in his expression, analyzing Astarion’s reaction to what he is witnessing. It matters none as you buck your hips upwards again and the Vampire Lord grins.

“So impatient, but very well, my dear, go ahead and show the boy how good I’m making you feel.”

Cazador grinds against you with unmistakable need of his own, but you don’t stop to ponder or wait for any further permission, his words are already all you need and you close your eyes, gulping down one more mouthful of blood before you pull your fangs away and cry out at the moment of your orgasm.

It shakes you, making your body clench around your father’s cock and with clenched teeth and a gruff moan he unravels too. With his thrusts stuttering as he empties himself deep inside you, he presses his forehead against the back of your head, effectively pushing your face into the pillow, but you don’t even notice, not yet, moans and cries stream out of your mouth as you shiver and gasp for air until every last drop of pleasure is wrung out of you.

Your knees give in and you collapse under Cazador, his body following yours, and you turn your face to the side to breathe, feeling your hair sticking to your forehead and then – a surprisingly soft kiss to your ear, then bellow your eye.

“You did well.” Your father praises and you smile, resting in your exhaustion.

With one more kiss on your cheek, your father rises on his hands and addresses Astarion.

“You can go now. But don’t forget the lesson, boy. You will never have this, you will never truly have her.” Mockery and spite colors Cazador’s words and you feel your wrists being released before sounds of Astarion standing, bowing and walking to the door follow.

Cazador spares a moment to grab a handful of your rear and knead it until the door closes behind the spawn, leaving you and father alone again at last. Only then he pushes back, pulling out of you, careful as ever not to spill even a single drop of his seed that he so meticulously emptied inside you, then the bed dips when he gets out of it.

You turn your head to follow Cazador walking to Woe and picking it up, then while still wordless, he takes the staff where it was first and places it there. Right after he undoes the cord that still holds his robe closed and takes it off, discarding it over the nearest chair backrest. Finally he looks at you with a calm expression.

“Come, you will bathe me after you made me sully myself.” He gestures to his sweaty body and with a sigh you lift yourself, feeling slightly sore and not wanting to move just yet, but you do as he says, getting out of bed, crossing the room and opening the wash room door for father.

He approaches, then stops and caresses the side of your face with a small smile tugging on his lips.

“I still permit you your games with the boy, but never dare suggest that I change anything about my treatment of him, is that understood?” Cazador’s crimson gaze bores deeply into your eyes and you nod, feeling the chill stiffen your spine. “Good.”

The Vampire Lord walks into the room and you follow him in, but despite the lesson that you realize was not only for Astarion, not fully, you start to wonder when, if ever, your father will grant you any power to make decisions. Is your life destined for you to do everything and anything he tells you to until the day you die? He raised you to be a Szarr after all, he raised you to be proud so that he can be proud of you in turn.

You wish he listened to you, you realize while you walk after him and begin preparing the bath while Cazador lights some candles, both of you surrounded by comfortable, familiar silence. Yet you don’t feel satisfied, not anymore, because you understand that you do want for your father to listen to you, to take your words into his consideration.

You just don’t know how to make it happen, especially now that he asserted himself for yet another countless time, how you are fully, utterly his. You desire change which you don’t know how to bring about. But as you glance at Cazador’s back, his naked form still as imposing as ever, you know that you have to find a way to convince your father that it’s time for his bride to rightfully take her place by his side.

You just have to figure out how.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #astarion #cazador szarr #astarion x reader #cazador szarr x reader #reader insert #x reader #female reader #astarion fic #cazador fic #cazador szarr smut #specters & phantoms #my fics

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thedo0zyslider · 5 months ago

Text

Shot Through The Heart - 2k Words

Martyn plans on winning this game, but not without leaving Scott a little parting gift. One to remember him by while he bleeds out.

Tw: graphic violence, brief thoughts of suicide

There's only three people left alive on this fine day, and Martyn intends to be last one standing. In any way possible. Though the other two players might not like his ideas so much.

Scott and Impulse want a fair fight. No weapons, no tools, no tricks. A fair brawl between the three of them, and whoever wins gets crowned the victor. They're both already abandoned their weapons, healing items, and anything else deadly; their stuff being thrown into a messy pile a few feet away. Martyn isn't down with that plan in the slightest.

He keeps his sword, bucket of lava, and a golden apple on him. Everything else, armor included, is thrown in the pile with Scott and Impulse's things. They don't notice him sneaking it, Martyn being careful to not even reveal he has them in the first place. If Scott notices his best sword isn't thrown in the pile, then his ally doesn't say anything.

Impulse keeps talking, about how they should do the fight. Because he doesn't wanna get ganged up on by the two Mean Gills, obviously. Scott, for whatever reason, indulges this conversation. Maybe because indulging Impluse keeps him alive just a little longer. (Scott knows he is not living, that he's dying first. He's already won a game, and certainly doesn't win again. No one would.) Martyn doesn't say anything, just crosses his arm over his chest and waits.

He doesn't care how this fight goes. He already knows it's not going to be fair, and who the winner will be.

Martyn shifts closer to his teammate, doing so as discreetly as possible. Thankfully, Impulse is too absorbed in his chattering to notice, and Scott is almost as committed to listening as their enemy is to talking. Almost.

A red eye watches him, moving to study him every few seconds as its owner chats back with Impulse. A fin twitches curiously and a siren tail flicks with curiosity. Martyn knows, that whatever Scott suspects him of doing, his teammate will let him get away with. Martyn doesn't think he's ever loved anyone more than he does in that one moment.

Scott glances at him one last time, gets a glimpse of the sword he's still hiding behind his back, and Martyn knows it's time.

He grabs Scott, hand resting firmly on the back of his head, and kisses him. His teammate kisses back. A moment later Martyn thrusts his arm forward and shoves a sword through his stomach. Surprisingly, Scott doesn't pull away, just gasps and keeps kissing him. Martyn thinks he kisses harder, actually.

The kiss feels like it goes on forever. It doesn't last long enough. It's messy, and there's blood in Scott’s mouth. Martyn doesn't care. He wants to make the most of it while he still can, even if it means he has to taste iron. He pulls Scott closer, ignoring the sounds of flesh and organs tearing beneath his sword, and bites his bottom lip. Scott doesn't even react to the pain he's most definitely in. Instead, he buries his hands in Martyn’s hair and tugs it as his intestines get torn in two.

Damn, that's hot. Martyn thinks, pulling his weapon out of Scott’s stomach as quickly as he'd shoved it in. His ally almost crumples to the floor, only held up by the hand holding his head and another gripping at his bloody waist. Martyn, now supporting all of Scott’s weight, probably needs to stop thinking that killing people and blood are insane attractive. At least for the moment.

They pull away after a few moments and a lifetime, and that's when Impulse's screams of horror register in Martyn’s head. That's when he remembers he has a job to do, and a game to win. Even if making out with Scott till he dies would be just as fun, if not better.

"I love you." He mumbles, bumping their noses together one last time. His hair falls in his face, loose from the bandana and from being pulled at. His lips have blood on them, his allys blood. He licks if off. It tastes like death.

"I know." Scott whispers, his voice shaky. He knows Martyn loves him, because he wouldn't be doing this if he didn't. It's the worst part about this.

After that, Martyn lets go of him. He lets go, and lets Scott fall to the ground; dying. He watches him bleed out for a minute, watches the life drain from his eyes. Then Martyn moves his gaze to Impulse, suddenly getting a burst of energy. He thinks thats the finally adrenaline is kicking in.

Impulse sees the murderous intent in Martyn’s eyes, and does the only sensible thing an unarmed man can do. He runs. In the opposite direction, because Martyn is kinda blocking his path to the disgraced weapons and armor. Though this just makes the final confrontation all the more entertaining. For one of them, anyways.

"Aw come on Impulse!" Martyn teases, running after his last enemy. Impulse is surprisingly fast when he wants to be. The blonde wasn't expecting to sprint after him this much. "You don't wanna miss out on the fun, do you?"

"I do, actually!" Impulse yells over his shoulder, skidding carelessly down the side of mountain they're on. Martyn skids after him, more determined than he's maybe ever been. He is not letting this guy get away, especially not after stabbing his kiss buddy. Or boyfriend. Or whatever they'd been before Martyn drove a sword through Scott’s torso.

Point is, if Impulse wanted to escape, he should've done that before meeting them near the clocktower. As soon as they all stood together, it was over for him, one way or another. Martyn was always going to make sure of that.

He chases after Impulse for a few minutes longer, not really gaining on him like he wants to. But then, in his haste, Impulse stumbles, and Martyn’s right behind him and suddenly aware the bucket of lava still on his person. Then Imlulse gets away again, but not for much longer.

Martyn throws the lava out of the bucket, hoping for a lucky shot. And luckily for him, some of scalding magma lands right on his opponents heel. Impulse screams, and falls to the ground. Martyn takes his chance, and springs at him, wrestling his fellow player under him.

He would've been a fool not to take such an easy opportunity to win, and Martyn is not a fool. Sure, the blonde's a lot of things, but a fool has never been one of them, and it never will be.

He manages to tackle Impulse to the ground, and straddles him almost immediately. If they're both gonna die soon, why not have some fun with this? Even if what Martyn considers "fun" right now is pretty subjective. Well, subjective for Impulse, anyways.

But, it was rude to play with your food, so he won't drag this out too long. He might be a murderer, but Martyn still has manners.

"Caught you~" He hums, placing a hand on Impulse's cheek. Like a lover might do. Though there's nothing loving about this exchange. It's all the opposite of love, rather fittingly. Or maybe this is ironic. Martyn wouldn't know, he was never really the poetic type (Assuming that flirting with someone before killing them is poetic, of course)

Impulse doesn't say anything, just tries to kick him off instead. He fails at this miserably, by the way. Kicking doesn't really work when half of your left leg has been eaten by lava. And when you're being straddled. Basically all of Martyn is outside of kicking range.

When that plan doesn't work, Impulse tries to grab at him instead. Martyn pins both of his wrists down with a free hand. He does it embarrassingly quick, too. It's almost like Impulse isn't even trying. The fact that he probably is trying, and trying his best at that, just makes it sadder.

"Cute." The blonde hums, grabbing for the sword he'd stashed around his waist. His hand leaves Impulse's cheek in the process, and the ither one keeps the brunette held down. Martyn would like to keep whatever homoerotic thing he has going, but to do that he'd risked being punched. And also his opponent escaping. Which would be less than ideal for him, but very good for Impulse.

And we can't be having that, now can we?

This really was disappointing. Impulse was usually so good at these games. He'd even outlived Martyn before! He thought that killing this guy would've been harder, involved a little more banter maybe. Martyn thought it would've been more changling then betraying Scott, even. But, no, it turns out he was wrong.

Oh well, no one can be right all the time, can they? Besides, an final kill made for an easy victory! And Martyn had grown quite tired of losing and being someone else's easy final kill. A little role reversal hadn't hurt anyone......except that it had! Whoops! Sorry not sorry, Scott and Impulse!

Impulse makes a sound under him, drawing Martyn out of his admittedly crazed thoughts. The sound he makes comes out scared, fearful, even. Martyn pins his wrist down harder, brings the sword closer, and can't help relishing in his neighbors final moments.

"Shame," Martyn says, titling Impulse's chin upwards with the hilt. It takes a lot to not lean in and give him a quick peck of the lips. Scott probably wouldn't be happy if his kiss buddy was kissing someone else, after all. Or maybe he wouldn't have minded. His old teammate had been a self described whore. "Looks like you're joining in on the fun after all."

He stabs a sword through Impulse's chest without another word or warning, and it's all over. Everything's over. The game is over. Martyn has finally won this thing, just like he's been planning to. Though he has to say, a final chase and kiss-stabbing his only ally hadn't been in the plan, but they did make for a damn good final act.

He stands, taking his sword out of Impulse's chest and throwing it to the ground. He shouldn't need it anymore. If Martyn had any armour on him, he would've thrown that away too. There's nothing left for him to fight. Not anymore, not now that he's a winner.

Though actually winning the death game is going a lot different, and a lot less dramatically, than he anticipated.

Marytn is expecting to die once he's the last one alive. He's expecting to die almost immediately after Impulse does. He doesn't. He stands there, waiting for something to happen. He doesn't know what he's waiting for, exactly, but he expects something. A flash of lighting as the gods strike him down, randomly falling over dead out of nowhere, maybe even a random arrow to the head.

But nothing happens.

The adrenaline, the thrill of the hunt, drains away from his body, but nothing happens. Martyn stands there, probably looking like an idiot, because what's supposed to be happening isn't happening! He's supposed to be dead and nothing is happening. He thought you died like, instantly once you won. That's what Scott had said. So why is he still here?

Martyn pulls up his timer, and quickly figures out why. It hasn't stopped ticking. The clocks hand is still moving. Most likely, he has to wait for it to reach zero, and then death will take him. Because of course he does. Because of course the universe won't let him die easily. It'll let everyone else die easily but not him! That's exactly like something They would do, isn't it?

Martyn stuffs his timer back in his pocket with a grumble. He still has over an hour left. About an hour and a half, to be exact. An hour and half before the universe let's him die. Or, an hour and a half to pull a Grian and kill himself. (Though he might need a sand mountain to jump from if he really wants to call it "pulling a Grian..")

Martyn doesn't know which one would be more painful, waiting or just getting it over with. And he isn't particularly excited to find out. Maybe, if he waits, They'll be nice and ket him die in his sleep or something. There's a low chance of that happening, realistically, but it's not a bad thought to entertain.

He starts walking away from Impulse's body after that, elaborate ways of suicide running through his head. If Martyn does decide to kill himself, he has over an hour to make the most unique suicide method humanity's ever seen. Doing a noose would be boring, especially after the show he just gave. If Martyn’s going to kill in style, he won't exclude himself from dying spectacularly. Wouldn't make him much of a showman if he did.

But, before Martyn decides how he's going to die, he has one last thing to do. It's why he started backtracking back towards their meeting spot, the clocktower coming into better view again. It's why he walked away from Impulse's body, and straight back towards his teammates.

He crouches next to Scott’s body, running a hand through blue hair. He looks so small like this, so small and lifeless. Martyn feels himself getting all sad over his....teammate being dead, so he stops thinking about it. There's nothing to be sad over, not anymore.

He had won the game, after all.

Scott’s eyes, lifeless like the rest of him, stare up unmoving at the sky. There's a small smile on his face and blood dripping from his mouth. His fatal injury has stopped bleeding, leaving a large pool around him. Martyn’s getting blood all over his pants. Normally, he would avoid doing that, since blood was so hard fo clean from clothes. Now he doesn't see a reason too. Might as well get his clothes as bloody as possible, while he still has time left to do that.

He'd been told that blood looked good on him a long time ago, last time he wore the banner wrapped around hid waist. Martyn can't say he disagrees.

Speaking of the banner, he takes it off and kays it over his fallen allys stomach. Where the stab wound was. It wasn't very nice to look at it. If Scott were still here, he'd be complaining about how ugly it was and how Martyn had let him look like that.

But he isn't here anymore, because Martyn won.

He covers the wound as if he was.

"Bye, Scott." He says, closing his teammates eyelids. He doesn't go back and do the same for Impulse. Martyn doesn't even think about Impulse's body once I leaves it. He doesn't think about Scott’s once he's off the mountain, either. He can't think about them anymore. There's no reason too. He'd won everything. Why think about and regret the people he'd killed to get there? They were already dead, and there was no turning back time.

Though the thought of time does remind him of somewhere he needs to go. His resting place, maybe, if he's so unlucky enough. Unlucky, because he can't think of anywhere better or worse to die.

The blonde stops walking towards the trees, and changes directions to the beach instead. He gets there in no time at all, and Martyn is reminded of how horribly small this map is and how horribly close the last two bodies truly are to him.

(Maybe this is the part that's romantic or poetic or ironic of whatever. Martyn wouldn't know. He was never very good with understanding stories.

Maybe he should've been.)

Martyn gets back to their island, and throws himself into their giant timer that Scott had made. He doesn't even hear the glass break as he falls, only the ocean waves laping at the shore. Shards stab at his skin, tearing it open, but Martyn doesn't even care. The sooner he bleeds out the sooner he dies, and gets whatever punishment is coming to him. The wooden top of the timer falls into the sand beside him. Martym wishes it had crushed him instead.

He lays there, teammate and final enemy gone and lifeless less than a mile away. He lays there with Scott’s blood still on his lips and coating his plants. He lays there with Impulse's blood on his hand and shirt and sword he forgot to throw into the ocean. He lays there with an empty bucket and a golden apple on him, and what feels like too much red to wash away.

Martyn lays there, a winner lying in broken glass and red sand, and lets the high tide take him.

#ron.fic #majorwood #scott smajor #inthelittlewood #trafficshipping #impulsesv #<- he's also here and being flirted with. Kinda #limited life smp

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