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hannieehaee · 5 months

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SERENDIPITY

18+ / mdi

summary: jungkook, god of love and son of venus is given the task by his mother herself to rid the world of you, known as psyche, as your beauty begins to rival her own. unfortunately for all parties involved, jungkook becomes enamored by you upon accidentally pinching himself with his own arrow.

content: cupid!jungkook, psyche!reader, an extremely simplified and smutty version of the og story, afab reader, everyone here is a god/goddess of some sort, side character deaths, the dialogue is very much modern and not fitting of the times, angst(?), fluff, smut, they have sex where she doesnt know who he is multiple times but its consensual, penetrative sex, etc.

wc: 8.6k

a/n: for immersion purposes, psyche will be a reader insert and wont be referred to as psyche throughout the story (but jk will be referred interchangeably as cupid). anyways i read this last week during one of the lit courses i decided to take to improve my writing and really enjoyed it!! i hope u guys enjoy it too<3

masterlist | kofi/patreon

support me through a one time tip<3

"Why did you call for me, again?"

"Jungkook, pay attention!", hissed his mother, holding her fingers to her temples in stress as one of her many servants walked in with the fruit she'd requested, "I need you to use your arrows on someone."

"What? Why? I thought you didn't like me meddling with people's love lives."

"This is different. This one needs a little help," Venus frowned in sheer annoyance, "She is known as Psyche by many, Y/N by her loved ones. She has become quite a figure among the Roman population. Some have begun to worship her beauty. They pray to her, they bring her offerings, they kiss at her feet, completely disregarding the true Goddess of Beauty."

"And where does this concern me?", Jungkook was beyond bored by his mother's ramblings. On a usual day, he would be out and entertaining himself with the many mortal maidens found around Rome, always guaranteeing himself a partner for the day.

Venus shot Cupid a look as her servants fed her by mouth, making him straighten his back and begin paying better attention. Even as the Goddess of Beauty, Venus was known as one of the most menacing Goddesses to exist, holding far too much power among all Gods and Goddesses. Jungkook couldn't help but feel intimidated by her, even as carefree as he was known to be.

"She has far too many admirers. Even Gods are beginning to show interest in her, yet she is lacking in suitors thus far. I need you to shoot your arrow and tie her off to the most hideous creature you can muster. She may seize from being a disturbance this way."

"Okay, so you want me to doom her to an eternity with a monster?", Jungkook tilted his head in curiosity.

Despite being considered the most beautiful entity, Jungkook knew Venus to be one of the least amicable creatures in all of the land. Mortals were blissfully unaware of her cruelty, thinking her to be the most perfect among all Goddesses. However, Cupid, as her son, knew of the misery that awaited anyone who crossed the Goddess of Beauty.

Venus halted her movements in frustration, scaring the servants nearby before turning to Jungkook in annoyance, "Cupid, my son, you will obey my order without question. I gave you those wings, I gave you that bow, and I gave you that arrow. I don't care how cruel you may think me to be, this is an order. You shall not utilize your powers for your own endeavors until you finish your task," she demanded, "Now, go rid me of that wench before I find someone else to do the job."

With a sigh, Jungkook nodded in defeat, fully aware of the type of punishments his mother could deliver should he disobey her orders. Walking over to the window through which he had originally entered, he pulled his bow and arrow from his back, beginning to fly off with his wings as he embarked on a journey to seek out the mighty Psyche that had his mother so worried.

"Y/N, there's another letter from one of your admirers," announced Psyche's mother, placing the letter on the huge pile of gifts provided by the many civilians who came visit their castle with the hope of getting a glimpse of the beautiful girl.

"Mother, what shall I do with all these? There's so many letters yet not a single suitor," you sighed, frustrated at the lack of prospects you'd had so far, "My sisters have both married, yet I am left alone with no one to seek my heart."

"Child, you should be grateful," said your mother, "You are admired through all the land, vied for as if you were a true Goddess. Someone will come for you one day, rest assured," affirmed your mother, petting your hair as she landed a soft kiss on your forehead and took her leave once more.

It was easy for your parents to grow used to the love and admiration you received. Endless people would come and dedicate themselves to their servitude if it meant as much as receiving your blessing – which was absolutely worthless as a mere princess in a land filled with mystical deities.

Your elder sisters had both been married off months back, finding old yet respectable husbands to take them away and care for them as any and all husbands should. You, however, remained alone with your parents, always hoping that a man would be brave enough to court you.

It was unfortunate, really; the way in which your beauty prevented you from receiving any suitors. You had not chosen to be blessed by Venus herself, nor did you ever hope to become her contender in the title of the most beautiful entity in all of creation. Unlike you, she had found a God to sweep her off her feet, gifting her with the fruit of love himself – her son Cupid. Oh, how you wished he'd shoot his arrow and allow you some rest from this endless search for a husband.

As weeks passed by, your parents became more and more worried with your state. You were unconsolable, finding misery in every letter your sisters would send in regard to their new lives with their new families. One of your sisters was already awaiting an heir. Despite your endless happiness for your loving sister, your misery at your own situation prevented you from feeling genuine excitement for a new heir in your family. You wanted your own. You needed your own.

Your constant distress caused your parents to seek out a esteemed Oracle in your city, hoping that she would be able to give some insight about your predicament. She would be able to answer the question as though who and when you would find a suitor.

Visiting her was easy enough, feeling intense excitement at the prospect of an insight into who your beloved would be. Your parents seemed indifferent, but simply hoped to ease your endless concerns.

The Oracle took the form of an old woman, one who was known to assert people's future entirely correctly. Thus far, she was yet to be erroneous in her readings. Such magic was impressive to you, leaving you worried for any bad outcome she could possibly see in your future. If she were to find something unfortunate, there would likely be no way to remedy it. However, your parents assured you that the preventive knowledge would allow you to act accordingly and fix your destiny should you need to.

"The great Psyche," smiled the old woman sitting across from you, "I have heard lots about you."

Bowing your head in respect, you introduced yourself despite her knowing you by the popular name of Psyche, "I have heard of you too. Thank you for agreeing to meet with me, Oracle. I hope to find a favorable end with you."

"I hope for the same."

Taking your hands, the Oracle felt them, closing her eyes in concentration as she went through every crease and contour of your hands, furrowing her eyebrows every so often. Her emotions translated onto you somehow, making your heartbeat speed up and your own eyebrows furrow in worry.

Suddenly her eyes opened, a clear distress showing through them.

"Your destiny is muddled," she began, "I cannot see too well, but your future is grand and ... it will lead to misfortune to those around you."

Your mother stepped in at such words, inquiring for more information, "What do you mean by this? What is it that you saw?"

"Your child may wed a powerful being. One among the strongest to ever be seen. She shall marry a being stronger than a God, one capable of immeasurable destruction should he choose to engage in such acts."

"A God?", asked your father.

"It is uncertain as per what I see," she responded, "All I can see is his aura radiating stronger than the sun. He shall take her and make her his own, not allowing anything to stand in his way," she reaffirmed.

"I-", you began, unable to finish your sentence as your parents quickly stood up and dragged you onto your feet.

"We shall take our leave," your mother said frantically, "We thank you for your service."

No more questions were asked as your parents dragged you by your hand, leading you out of the cursed place.

The Oracle's words had never been wrong, which meant that your future was sealed. You were to wed something that was not a man. Was he a God? There was just no way of knowing. It could've been a demon or monster seeking the most beautiful woman in the land. It could've been a God seeking a mortal to keep in his chambers as he wed a Goddess. Whatever it may have been, you were terrified.

"You shall leave," were your mother's first words upon arriving back to the castle.

"W-what?"

"We cannot keep you here. If a being is to come and rip you away, we cannot allow it to destroy our kingdom. Your fate is sealed, but ours remains," said your mother, your father nodding in agreement beside her.

"Where am I to go?" you whispered in disbelief.

"We will take you to the mountains. Maybe the monster shall not find you there."

"Monster? How can you be so certain?"

"Gods mustn't marry mortals, you foolish child. A God would never have to drag you away, as you would go willingly. It must be an evil creature attempting to attain your beauty."

"But-"

"No 'but's, child. It has been decided," your father gave the final verdict, thus sealing your fate even further.

To have hoped for protection from your parents had been foolish. These were the same royalty who had given away their two eldest daughters to the highest bidders, not caring for proper marriages as long as they meant protection for their kingdom. You were equally worthless to them. Should you pose any danger to their kingdom and you would simply be thrown aside, just as now.

The following days proved as a goodbye as your parents prepared your departure. They assured themselves they shall never see you again, so they made arrangements with that idea in mind. Without a care for your wellbeing, they assured themselves this was the best course of action. Your fate was sealed, after all. There was nothing they could do to protect you any longer.

It was only a few days after your visit to the Oracle that your parents made the long and extraneous walk to the lone mountains neighboring the kingdom. Climbing the highest and most lonesome peak, they bid their goodbyes to you, with your mother letting out a few worthless tears as she looked at you one last time.

Your first few days on the mountain had been miserable. You only had enough food to realistically survive a few days, but your parents had reassured you that your husband would come for you soon, likely aware that you were there for his taking. The constant fear of the most odious taking you away made you feel terror you had never experienced. Jumping into the peaks below you crossed your mind a few times, but you knew you'd survive the fall. Your fate did not predict a tragic death, which meant that any fall would not result in demise. Your metaphorical demise would only come in the form of your husband.

All you could do now was wait for him to come, hoping against all hope that he would not be as monstrous as you dared imagine.

Jungkook was beyond annoyed at his current task.

Despite being a God, he did not hold the same almighty powers many other Gods did. His skill was the intertwining of souls, shooting his arrow any time he knew two people were meant to be tied for life.

In all honesty, he did not care for such a task. The thought of tying Psyche's fate to that of a monstrous being did not bother him in the slightest. He felt quite indifferent about it, not knowing nor caring who Psyche was. He doubted Psyche's beauty could possibly be as menacing as his mother had described, but he still felt some sort of intrigue about her appearance.

Fortunately, his curiosity was soon satiated.

After days of looking for Psyche, he finally encountered her, watching from afar as he spotted a lone woman standing on the cliff of a mountain, completely bare as her clothes laid ripped on the small surface of the mountain. It appeared that she had been there for days, likely having ripped off her own clothes in frustration.

Had you been left here for his taking? Destiny worked in mysterious ways, after all.

As of now, Cupid had only been able to see your backside, as you were facing opposite of him. Even from afar, Jungkook could not deny the beauty of your body. Every curve and contour of it had been sculpted to perfection, making the God salivate at the sight. But Jungkook had come here with a task. He needed to take care of his mother's request. There was no time to thirst after the heavenly body before him.

Reaching behind him, Jungkook grabbed onto his bow and arrow, bringing both to the front as he began to aim at you, prepared to shoot when he got the angle just right. After shooting you, he would aim his arrow at the first creature he encountered, let it be a deer or an actual monster. It did not matter much at the moment.

But as Jungkook had said, destiny worked in mysterious ways.

Jungkook had been entirely unprepared for the moment you turned around, facing him yet not seeing him from his hiding spot in the distance.

Your beauty took his breath away instantly, making him falter in his movements as his focus shifted from his arrow and onto you. Your body was the image of perfection itself, shaped perfectly for his hands to drag themselves across every inch of skin. Your curves were begging to be marked by his lips, being just the perfect size for any God to lose himself in them. And your face? Gods, it was the prettiest sight in all of Rome.

Jungkook understood now why his mother had felt threatened by your mere existence. He understood why you had so many admirers, yet no suitors brave enough to make you theirs.

Without realizing, Jungkook's hand had slipped during his daydreaming, making him misplace his hand and causing his arrow to grace him across the chest, creating a gash right by his accelerated heart.

Oh.

Fuck.

You ...

Gods, you beautiful thing. You gorgeous, beautiful thing.

The effects of the arrow were quick in turning Jungkook into a mess of himself. His breathing accelerated, his eyes became hooded, his skin rose in goosebumps, his cock stood tall and proud. His entire body betrayed him as he rapidly fell in love with you.

His mission had failed, but he could not care for such things in this moment. Not when he felt such strong emotions of love towards you.

This was rare. His arrows caused people to fall in love, but never had they produced such a strong effect. Never had he seen a man become so immensely enamored so quickly after a shot of his arrow. Perhaps your beauty had bewitched him before his arrow struck? The details didn't really matter much to him. At least not as much as his sheer need to have you did.

But it could not be done so easily.

Gods were not meant to fall in love with humans. Should his mother ever find out and you would both meet your ruin. No, he needed to think this through. He needed to get to you, but not allow you to know of him. If you were ever to see him, you'd fall in love with him instantly.

He did not want to force such a situation onto you, so despite the sheer effort it took, Jungkook took his leave, opting to plan for an appropriate way to rescue you and make you his.

It took a few days for your misery to come to an end.

After endless hours of agony stranded and alone on the peak of that mountain as you awaited your inevitable demise, you finally came to find some peace.

It was a voice, an unknown one, calling to you. It had been during one of the many instances in which you had found yourself wailing at your misery, completely defeated at your situation.

Suddenly a voice called out to you, reassuring words in their tongue.

"Do not fear, Psyche, nor be sorrowful beyond measure... I have come to aid you, for it is impossible that Love should go unrewarded."

Despite the words, there was no heavenly body attached to them. They had simply come from the wind.

"Who are you?", you asked.

"I am Zephyrus, the West Wind. You may never see me, but I am here to rescue you."

"Rescue me? Where shall you take me?"

"I shall take you to my master's castle. He shall care for you there."

"Your master?", was this meant to be the monster who would wed you?

"Yes. His immeasurable love for you shall be proved as he cares for you."

"Is he ... Is he a monster?"

"On the contrary. He is a heavenly body; the most heavenly of them all," reassured the West Wind.

A heavenly body? Could it really be a God?

You needed no time to consider it. You decided to you must go and meet the man who would save you from your misery.

"Take me, Zephyrus. Please."

"With pleasure."

You were unsure how you had arrived here, but that was the last of your concerns upon seeing your surroundings.

Currently, you found yourself in the most beautiful of palaces. Everything was made of expensive marble and tailored just to your tastes. As you explored the gorgeous abode, Zephyrus explained your current situation to you.

"You shall be cared for here, by the most competent of servants," the West Wind began, "They will rid you of all the misery you suffered on that mountain. Every bit of suffering your family brought to you shall be undone within this palace.

"Oh, thank you, Zephyrus! You don't understand how grateful I am."

"You shall not thank me. This is all your beloved's doing."

"When shall I meet him?"

"You will meet him tonight, as you lay to sleep," he began, "However, you shall not see him."

That confused you.

"What do you mean?"

"He wishes not to be seen. He will come to you in your barest of forms to reveal his undying affections, but you shall respect his wishes of not being seen. He will show up in the dark as your back faces him. This is his one and only condition," revealed Zephyrus.

"Oh."

It was disheartening, to say the least. But you owed your eternal gratitude to your future husband, so if he requested not to be seen, you would obey such order.

"I understand. Anything for my savior."

The next few hours were spent in luxury you had yet to familiarize yourself with.

You were bathed and fed, healed from all trace of injury during your time stranded. You were treated as a Goddess, served by invisible, voiceless servants as the wind aided you in all your needs.

It proved quite lonely, but you were still content at the knowledge that your beloved would come to you tonight.

They dressed you up as beautiful as you could imagine. Your beauty shone through the care you were given, making you appear entirely irresistible to any man who should come your way.

Oh, you were beyond excited to see your future husband. Would he allow passion to take over him when he saw you?

You had not met him yet, but you were already in love. All things Zephyrus had told you about him only made you more excited.

He detailed his feelings for you, telling you the mountains he'd move just for a single glance at you. He told you of the creation of this palace, rushed to be made to your liking just so he could care for you away from all harm.

Oh, your husband just sounded so lovely. Yet you wanted to cause his ruin upon meeting him.

You laid in bed, your natural beauty shining through the care your invisible servants had given you. Your sleeping gown allowed any to see the perfect contour of your curves as you laid in bed awaiting your beloved's arrival, back facing the window as Zephyrus had instructed.

You were not to face towards the window, allowing the dark atmosphere of the room to hide your beloved's identity. However, according to Zephyrus, your beloved would be able to see you through his magic, allowing him to get his fill of your beauty.

It only took a few hours for a voice to emerge through the window.

"Oh, my beloved," sighed the voice, approaching.

"Husband?", you asked, still lying on your side, facing away from him.

"Yes, it's me. I have not wed you yet, but you are correct. You are my wife from now on, beautiful," his steps got closer, stopping at the edge of the bed opposite your own.

"Oh, husband, how long I've waited for you!", you wailed.

He took a shaky breath, climbing the bed as his hands laid softly on your hip. Your hip had been sticking out due to your sideways position, ready for him to grab at it however he desired.

"My beautiful Psyche ... You cannot understand how badly I want you ..." he breathed, hands hesitant as they caressed the curves presented to him, "I've had to hold back from ravaging you for days. Your touch is the only cure to this madness I feel."

Never in your life had you felt such an immediate fire within you. Oh, how badly you wanted to see him and express the same sentiment.

"You shall touch me however you wish, my dear husband. Please touch me ... I am yours," you pleaded.

"Yes? You are mine? Even if you shall never see me, you wish to be mine?"

You winced at such words, sad at the implications behind never facing your husband. But his voice and touch were enough to render you powerless against him, wanting him more than you thought possible.

You whimpered when his hands went to lift up your gown, revealing your nude bottom as he continued to caress at you.

"Yes! I am yours in every way. Please ... please take me. I need your touch more than anything," you pleaded.

With a groan, he positioned you so he could kneel behind you, placing you on all fours for him. It truly did not matter if you faced him or not, as the room was far too dark for you to ever make out his mere silhouette.

His hands were greedy as he felt you up, throwing off the useless gown so he could have his fill of your body. With endless groans and puffs of breath, he touched every inch, kissing his favorite parts as he explored your body.

"You beautiful thing ... No one shall ever have this body ever again. It is mine forever. Do you understand?"

You sighed in pleasure due to his mere touch, "Yes, husband. My body is for you only."

"I am going to officially wed you as I find my rightful place inside you. This will serve as our wedding night. Okay, gorgeous?"

You nodded wordlessly, pushing up against him to encourage his touch further.

It seemed as if he was already nude, as you felt his hardness behind you when he pushed up against you in retaliation.

Oh, it was so big and warm. He would surely be your ruin.

With a groan, he entered you, making your back arch deliciously at such stretch.

"Oh ... My angel ... My beautiful Psyche. You are everything a man could want, fuck. Feel so perfect around me," the God groaned upon entering you, hands digging into your hips as he began canting his hips against yours.

He caressed you like a man in love, whimpering any time you'd get just a little too tight for him. For the first time in your life, you felt like a true Goddess, experiencing worship from a God himself.

"It's so warm and perfect ...", he sighed, "Made for me, yeah? Just for me ... My Psyche, my ruin, my perfect ruin," he murmured as he pressed kisses against your back, a new confession of love behind each one.

Meanwhile, you were rendered wordless. Nothing made sense when you felt such otherworldly pleasure. Were mere mortals meant to experience such bliss? How could you ever outlive such an experience when your beloved was giving you everything and more than you ever hoped from a husband?

Your whines filled up the room, making your husband speed up out of sheer desire for more. He encouraged your sounds, dipping a hand between your legs to play with you with his skilled fingers, drawing cry after cry out of you as his hips refused to slow down.

"You are so beautiful, fuck ..." he groaned, "Men should worship the ground you walk on. I will worship you ... Every day for the rest of our lives I will worship this beautiful body."

Nothing but love flowed between you. Your new husband's obsession with you was more than clear. The God worshiped your body with low cries of your name, hips becoming less and less coordinated by the minute. His godly stamina was no match for the feelings flowing through his body, rendering him weaker than a human man at the sight of his beloved losing herself under his touch.

Your high triggered his own, making him slump against your back as his hips attempted to hump against you throughout the entirety of his orgasm. He whimpered pathetically at the tightening of your walls, crying expletives far too explicit for a God to recite.

You did not fare any better. From the moment your husband laid his hands on you, you became a shell of your former self, your body now a vessel dedicated to pleasure. You had yet to even ask his name, too immersed in the love between you to even remember.

"My beautiful girl," he whispered as he recovered his breath, kissing along the length your back, "I will protect you for the rest of eternity," his lips went down your back, reaching your ass, "going to take care of you in any and every way," his lips eventually reached your cunt, still swollen and leaking out his own essence. He remained quiet for a few moments, likely hypnotized by the sight.

"Oh ...," he groaned upon a tentative lick against your sensitive cunt, "Need you again ... Need this cunt again," he cried, losing himself between your folds.

Losing his train of thought entirely, he held you up on your hands and knees, feasting on your cunt shamelessly. He kissed and licked at you, groaning any time your ass would push back against him, silently begging for more.

"F-feels so good ... Need y-you. Please ...", you whimpered, begging for nothing in particular. Such pleasure had you lacking any critical thought. You were likely the most mindless creature in all of the land as your husband took away all your ability to reason.

"Gonna get you there, gorgeous. Gonna make you cum and make you mine over and over again," he growled against your cunt.

With just a few more moments, you came undone once more, this time falling against the bed in sheer exhaustion. You wished to turn around and seek solace in your husband, but you knew better and opted to allow him to initiate the next contact.

Once more, he spent a few moments worshiping your limp body, kissing and sucking at every corner he enjoyed. Every so often he would mutter low praises to your person, claiming worship towards you. Unfortunately, this ended far too soon, quickly leaving you cold and alone on the bed as be suddenly got up.

"I apologize if that was too much," he chuckled, now from a small distance. You wanted to turn to confirm, but you did not dare disobey his prior order, "I, uh, I must take my leave now, my love."

That was when you truly wished to break his rule and turn to him, pleading at him to stay with you through the night. One night and you were already infatuated with him.

"You're leaving?"

The disappointment must've been clear in your voice, as he instructed you to close your eyes before he turned you around to face him, caressing your cheeks in a loving manner before landing a soft peck on your lips.

"I cannot stay the night with you, beautiful. If you wake up and find out my identity ... I don't know how I shall protect you from that."

"But-"

"It's okay, angel. I will be back night after night, giving you all the love a God can muster. Now I bid you goodnight, my love. I love you," he kissed the back of your palm, quickly disappearing from your vicinity before you could say goodbye.

When you opened your eyes he was gone, window still open and marking his sudden exit. As deflated as you felt at his departure, you also felt immense excitement for the next morning in which you'd see him, promising yourself to be prepared for him every single night to deliver your love to him.

After weeks of becoming your husband's wife, you continued to live a life of pure bliss every night as he made love to you. It was still incomprehensible to you how he would deliver his sentiments in such a carnal way, but you were yet to have any complaints. The two of you would create the embodiment of love together every night, and you looked forward to it day after day.

But it was only the nighttime that brought you such happiness. You'd spend your days waiting for your husband to arrive, hoping for the moment in which he'd be with you and love you. He'd make conversation with you every night after making love to you, making you feel less lonely in those moments. However, you'd remain completely alone the rest of your days.

It wasn't after many pleas that your husband finally agreed to allow you some company in your new palace. Being accessible only through the flowing of Zephyrus' wind, you were completely alone at all times. It had taken vast begging from your part, but your husband eventually agreed to command Zephyrus to fly your sisters out to you, somehow managing to get into contact with them.

The last time you had seen them had been before finding out about your wretched fate through that Oracle. They remained unaware that you had been left stranded at the mountain, likely entering a panic when the news were delivered to them.

Before allowing your sisters access to his palace, your husband had warned you to stray away from their persuasion. Confused, you asked him to elaborate. He then informed you of the way in which they'd likely envy your newfound fortune and somehow wish to cause a rift between you and your husband. As one last warning, he told you to not listen to them should they tell you to unmask his identity. He loved you far too much to be ripped away from you in such a way, he had said.

You did not believe your sisters capable of attempting to sabotage the immense love you had found in the arms of your husband, but you had unfortunately been wrong.

Upon their arrival, they had showed little concern for your sudden disappearance, simply making quips about how much less their husbands provided for them, claiming they deserved more than yourself. They, of course, did not say such things to your face but rather to each other. But the winds of Zephyrus informed you of it all upon their departure. Even during their stay, they demanded you unmask your husband, claiming he must be a hideous creature if he was so insistent in hiding himself from his beloved wife.

You, unfortunately, fell for their trap. The seed of doubt had been instilled within you, making your curiosity for your husband grow more rapidly than ever. As soon as they left, you began pondering on ways to see your husband in a way that would not reveal your betrayal.

The outcome did not matter in the end. Regardless of your husband's appearance, you would fall for him time and time again just from his mere presence. Should he be the most wretched of monsters and you would still love him. His love and tenderness for you had rendered you a woman in love, and nothing would take that away.

But you needed to know. You needed to see him. You had gone far too long without seeing your soul's other half.

It occurred just a few nights later. The fated night in which you would finally see your husband.

By an act of the Gods above, your husband had fallen asleep right after a night of rigorous love making, holding you in his arms with the most love a man could hold for his woman.

In the sheer darkness, you managed to make your way out of your husband's hold, sneaking your way to the other side of the room with difficulty due to the complete lack of illumination in the room. After some struggle in the dark, you found a lamp, which you managed to light up with some oil.

Due to the small size of the lamp, you had to come close to your husband in order to properly see him. With hesitation, you walked over to him, holding the lamp right above his sleeping form to get the perfect view of him.

He was ...

He was the embodiment of love itself.

Before you laid Cupid, the most beautiful of all Gods.

Jungkook, as some knew him, slept under the light of your lamp, beautiful wings nowhere to be seen as he retracted them in his sleep.

You became instantly hypnotized by the sight of your beautiful husband. Your heart sped up and your eyes became heavy. His nude form was nothing short of art, and his gorgeous features were some that could never be replicated by neither man nor God.

If you hadn't already been insanely head over heels over your husband, you would've fallen for Jungkook upon a single sight. It had been the most beautiful God who had been making love to you night after night, praying to you as if you had been the deity.

Unconsciously, you grew too distracted by the sight of your beloved, not realizing you had tilted your lamp enough for some of the scorching oil to slip and trickle onto Jungkook's chest, immediately rendering him awake.

With shock in his eyes, he got up in a frantic hurry, clearly not having realized he had fallen asleep next time you. His hands went straight to soothing the burnt skin right by his chest. It didn't take long for betrayal to appear in his eyes, realizing that you had deliberately sought out a way in which to see him while he was fully unaware of your intentions.

"Psyche ...", he muttered, eyebrows furrowed as he avoided your eyes in disdain. You caught sight of tears growing in his eyes, causing pain to gnaw at your chest.

"Jungkook, I-"

He chuckled bitterly at the situation, "I warned you against this time and time again, but you became poisoned by the words of mere mortals who do not hold the love for you I so highly esteem," he took a breath, "I foolishly wounded myself with my own arrow and took the role of your lover. I feared that you'd want to cut off the head that carries these eyes that love you, so I remained a mystery to you. Yet your own love for me did not respect me enough to halt this betrayal. I- I shall take my leave. Goodbye, Y/N," he said before retracting his wings and making his way out through the window once more, hands rubbing at the growing wound on his chest due to the oil that had burnt him.

You stood there wordless, tears in your eyes as you watched your husband fly away.

Your cursed endlessly throughout the rest of your sleepless night, hoping that maybe he would come back tomorrow so you could make amends.

Tomorrow never came, and neither did the next day. From your perspective, time stood still as Jungkook continued not to show up day after day for a week. On the seventh day, your heart grew too sore to continue waiting for him without taking action.

Although you blamed your own greed for him for your betrayal to him, you also blamed the instigators – your sisters.

But they were your sisters no more. They were simply obstacles to overcome in the journey to gain Jungkook's trust back. And nothing would stop you.

A new sense of vengeance took over you astonishingly fast. Without a second thought, you managed to contact each of your sisters individually, making claims of your husband, Cupid himself, becoming unforgiving of your betrayal and demanding your departure, announcing that he would wed your sister instead. Each of your greedy sisters fell for the lie and one by one fell to their death as they attempted to make their way to Cupid's castle.

As for you, you managed to convince the West Wind to fly you off the mountains so you could begin your journey to your beloved. Hurt and disheartened, you spent weeks in search of him, not mindful at all of how battered you became with the passing of time. Any pain would be worth Jungkook's forgiveness.

However, your state of mind and exhaustion led you to multiple attempts at ending your own life, attempting to drown yourself or jump off cliffs, always surviving almost unscathed by some cruel act of the Gods. Without Jungkook's forgiveness life was simply not worth living.

In the meantime, Jungkook found himself in his mother's chambers, healing from the wound you had caused as his mother let out her fury at the discovery of her son's new lover.

"So you decided to wed your mother's nemesis? You decided that you shall bring this wench upon me and tie her to me for eternity?", she seethed as Jungkook disregarded her, too exhausted to respond.

"I shall find that hideous wench and rid the world of her myself," she decided, calling over a few servants to direct them to deliver you to them, "And you," she turned to Cupid once more, "You useless child. I shall birth another one just to spite you for your disrespect."

Those were her last words as she exit the chambers, leaving Jungkook to his rest once more. He wanted to worry for you, but his wound of the heart needed more healing before he could allow himself to go find you for himself. Within him, he thought of you fondly, hoping you'd survive his mother's wrath.

It did not take long for Venus to find you and bring you to your knees before her, expressing every foul thought she had of you with no shame.

"You believe to be worthy of Cupid, the prettiest God to lay foot on this world? Fine. Should you complete my tasks and I shall stay out of your way. Should you fail, I will do with you as I please."

Having spent weeks alone in the wilderness, injured in every way imaginable, you could not see a better outcome to such a situation. You agreed without thinking twice, knowing that no fate was worse than your current one.

You were assigned impossible tasks, one by one, as Venus sat back and awaited for your inevitable demise.

Much to her surprise, the divine forces had helped you in the completion of each one.

The first task had been to sort an immense amount of grains before morning. The grains amounted to an innumerable quantity, which proved the task to be impossible. Upon your defeat, you fell asleep halfway through the task, somehow waking up to find ants assisting you in its completion. By the time Venus arrived, she had a frown on her face at the sight of the achievement.

Her anger did not last, as she assigned you the next impossible task with ease.

Upon being ordered to gather golden fleece from magic sheep, you knew that this time you'd truly meet your demise. The sheep were extremely aggressive and known to kill a man in mere seconds. However, by another act of the Gods above, the reeds by the riverbank suddenly advised you to await til morning in order to freely gather the fleece that the sheep had shed.

The completion of this task also brought anger to Venus' demeanor, causing her to provide you with yet another impossible task. The completion of the final task finally led to the hardest of them all; one that would finally render you no longer.

Your final task had been to travel to the underworld and bring Venus a box of beauty. There were far too many intricate steps to be followed, but your love for Jungkook was enough to lead your journey.

Finally, upon your arrival, you held the box of beauty in your hands, ready to deliver it to Venus and finally receive her blessing in wedding her son. But once more, your curiosity grew too big.

Before arriving to the mighty Goddess, your hands took a mind of their own, forcing you to take a peak at the box. If you were to officially wed your beloved Cupid, a little extra beauty would surely be helpful.

Your naïveté finally led you to your final moments, causing you to enter eternal sleep upon a small peek of the box's contents. Still slightly conscious, you laid in your lonesome, unable to move nor think.

In your final moments, all you could think of was your beautiful Cupid and how badly you had hoped to live for him. To live to love him once more.

It took Jungkook a few days after his mother's final warning to him to fully recover from his injury.

Being aware of his mother's anger towards you, his immediate thought upon gaining his energy back was to seek you out and rescue you from whatever threat his mother must've been holding over you. He was unsure if she had managed to find you, but he could not take the risk of waiting to find out, knowing your life was likely in danger.

It took interrogating a few servants in order to track you down, now making it his mission to save you from his mother's disdain.

When he had been informed of the endless grueling tasks you had taken on just for a chance to see him again, Jungkook's heart melted. His love for you had never gone away, but his hurt had blinded him as his wound debilitated him. Now fully recovered, he was able to realize that his endless adoration for you was mutual. Your stubborn desire to see him had not been born out of malice, but out of love for him. He understood now. Had he been denied of your beauty for a single day, he would've lost all sense of sanity.

You were currently on your final task, Jungkook had been informed. Worried about your safety, he set out to take the same journey, traveling to retrieve the box himself in case you had somehow not made it on your own. He grew impressed when he reached the end of the journey and found that you had already retrieved it and were currently on your way back.

Jungkook continued to travel in search of you, growing more worried by the second as he did not find you. The moment he finally encountered you, his wings gave out in him, causing him to fall due to the sudden worry the sight caused him.

You were lying on the ground, vulnerable and alone as you held the box against your chest. You must've opened it, he assumed, knowing your curiosity could easily get the best of you.

Running to you, he held you to his arms, throwing the box aside as he caressed your limp body in his arms.

"Oh, Psyche ... My beautiful, curious girl," he tsk'd, "Your curiosity became your undoing once more," he scolded lightheartedly, tears in his eyes at being able to hold you again.

Leaning down, he pressed a lone kiss to your lips, whispering against them as he did so, "Come back to me, my love. Let me make you mine again."

Within seconds your body regained its consciousness, leaving you disoriented for a few moments. Upon realizing Jungkook was holding you, a look of awe in his eyes, you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him as close as humanly possible to you as you cried into his chest.

"Oh, my beautiful girl," he wrapped himself around you, retracting his wings so they'd shield you both from the outside world, "Don't cry for me, my love. I'm here. I adore you more than I can possibly describe."

You wailed apologies into his chest, weaved with many confessions of your love for him. He took them all in with a smile on his face, refusing to let go of you as he memorized the shape of your body against his own.

"Love you so much, my sweet ruin. No one can ever harm you again," he assured, leaving endless kissed against your hair. He finally pulled away, wiping your tears with his thumbs as he looked into your eyes, "Let me take you home, my love."

"My beautiful girl ... How I missed you, fuck," groaned the pretty angel as he laid kisses down your neck.

He pushed you up against the wall the moment he flew you back to his recluse palace, rendering you speechless with just a few kisses. Jungkook wasted no time in showing you his love through words and touches, finally able to face you while he loved on you.

Sighing as he kissed down your neck, you molded yourself to his liking, willing to let him do whatever he wanted to you. You were far too enamored by the God, feeling nothing but inhuman addiction to his touch.

"I adore you more than you could ever understand," he breathed out as his hand ripped apart your worn out gown, wanting to finally see you bare face to face. With a shuddering breath, he got his fill of your body, caressing at every inch his eyes went over, feeling the carnal need to memorize every curve.

Turning you around, he pressed you up to his front, grinding against you as he felt you up, groaning breathily into your ear.

"I have wanted your body since I first laid eyes on you," he whispered, hips slow and sensual in their grinding, "I can finally have you however I want. Oh, my angel, I'm going to render you useless by the time I'm done with you."

Your Cupid then grabbed you and led you to the bed, where you positioned yourself on your hands as knees as you usually did. Shaking his head, Jungkook stops you before you settle on the bed, instructing you to turn around and lay face up for him.

"No, beautiful. Turn to me. Want to see you. Want to make love to you while you look at me with those pretty eyes," Jungkook moaned against your lips.

There was not much warning before Jungkook slipped inside you. But it did not matter. Your body welcomed him with no struggle, having become far too thirsty for his touch in the weeks of your separation.

Out of all the times you'd made love, this was by far the most intimate. Jungkook love and caressed you with an inhuman infatuation in his eye, groaning any time you'd so much as look into his eyes as he pounded into you.

"Oh, my Psyche ... Love you so much ... Always loved you. Always needed y-you, oh fuck ..." his eyes closed in pleasure, pressing his face into your neck to breathe you in. His hips were incorrigible, with Jungkook being far too drunk with lust to have any finesse in his movements.

"My Jungkook ... My Cupid ... You pretty angel, I missed you so much, so- oh, so much!", you cried, your eyes becoming clouded with tears all while your nails dug into his back. You could feel the scars from which his wings would retract, caressing them softly.

"Oh ... Oh, angel, d-don't do that- My wings are too sensitive, my Psyche, d-don't ..."

This only encouraged you to do it more, caressing his erogenous zone softly and sensually, causing him to cry against your ear, whimpering in an ungodly way that had your eyes rolling back at just the sound.

Your pretty angel babbled against you, letting out nonsensical rambles about how much he loved you and how he could never let you go again. How he would breed you and give you an heir and bring you both to the land of the Gods with him.

Practically sobbing against each other, still grinding like mindless animals, the two of you found your highs together, continuing to stimulate each other throughout the entirety of your orgasms. Your mutual whimpers filled up the room, making the experience all the more erotic.

Finally, you two laid against each other, breathing heavily as you refused to let go of one another.

You were still beat and battered from your weeks in search of your Cupid, but that was the last thing on your mind. All you cared about was holding onto Jungkook and never letting go.

Holding you even closer against him, Jungkook wrapped himself around you, pulling out with a groan as he spooned you in his arms, breathing in your hair and humming against you. He reassured you about any worry you may have had in regards to your future together, assuring you that your injury to him had fully head and that he could never hold any type of negative feeling towards you for long.

You no longer would have to worry about his mother's schemes, Jungkook assured, as he would go to Zeus himself to grant you immunity amongst all Gods. He'd convert you into a Goddess yourself, he promised, so that he could give you a heavenly heir and grow old with you until eternity. Nothing in this world could ever separate Cupid from his beloved Psyche. Jungkook would never let anything keep him away from his one and only beloved.

"I adore you, my Psyche, my beautiful ruin. I will always protect you," he sighed one last time, eyes growing heavy as you turned around in his arms and cuddled against his warm chest.

"I love you my Cupid," you kissed at the small burn mark the oil of your lamp had left, humming against his chest.

You fell asleep calmly in each other's arms, knowing you'd wake up to an eternity of love between one another.

a/n: im sorry if the pacing seems all over the place but i promise this is how the original story goes 😭

to read short 3.3k word continuation (+ all other previously written bonus content) you can go join my jk monthly tier on kofi or patreon!

content: afab reader, continuation and conclusion of the cupid and psyche lore/story (this is kinda like a pt. 2 honestly oops), impregnation, mentions of oral, jungkook is obsessed with reader its insane, pregnancy sex implied (but not really bc its after one day of the insemination lol), jungkook is a god so yk endless sex, smut, penetrative sex (like three times lol), etc.

wc: 639 (teaser); 3313 (full drabble)

sneak peak:

"Hmm, my beautiful Psyche," hummed Jungkook against you, stretching his body before cuddling further into you, absolute bliss in his voice.

After a night of extraneous love-making, Jungkook finally awoke in your arms, a smile instantly making its way onto his face at the remembrance of the previous night.

After having brought you back to the palace he built for you, he made love to you, finally able to look into your eyes as you both lost yourselves to the pleasure found in each other's touch. The thought of your gorgeous whines for him still made him shudder, having to will his boner away at the memory.

Then he thought about everything else that had happened since your separation.

He recalled all the trials you had gone through this past week, all to gain access to his heart, a heart that had belonged to you from the moment he laid eyes on you. It was hard not to feel immense guilt at knowing how badly you had struggled from the moment he left you alone in that palace, too hurt and stubborn to realize that your love for him would have you risking your life just for one more chance. In hindsight, he should've understood, specially considering that his own heart burned for you harshly enough for him to want to give up his Godly powers for you if he so had to.

Then he remembered the worst part of it all.

His mother was still seething with vengeance for you, not having found satisfaction in your death while completing her useless tasks. Jungkook knew that she never meant to even consider giving her blessing for the two of you to be together. It had all been a ruse to make you find your demise under the false pretense that you would somehow earn Jungkook's forgiveness by the end of it all.

What you didn't know was that Jungkook didn't need to forgive you. His love for you overpowered every other fleeting thought in his brain. One look from your remorseful eyes and he would be on his knees, begging you for forgiveness.

He pondered as he watched you sleep in his arms, blissful yet still wounded by your weeks of pain.

How shall he make up for all the suffering you endured while he recovered from his wound? How could he make amends for making you think for even one second that he'd dare try and live without you by his side?

His experience as a carnal lover had not prepared him for such feelings. There had been no training or preparation for him to understand the way you made his heart rush, the way you altered every aspect of his being.

All he could think about was how you were his beautiful Psyche and how ... how badly he wanted to put an heir in you.

The thought had seemed been sudden, but he had actually thought of it from the moment he found you waiting for him in bed that first night. You, full for him, manifesting the greatest form of love as you grew his seed inside you.

An heir would be the solution to all problems.

An heir would bring you an instant pass to the land of the Gods, forcing Zeus to turn you into a Goddess in order for you to birth a Godly child. It would also make his mother accept the gift he'd bring upon her, unable to deny a child created by the God of love himself. Lastly, this heir would also be his own gift to you – a showcase of his endless love for you and the future he was to create with you.

But most of all, it would quench the thirst Jungkook was currently feeling at the mere thought of marking you as his as humanly possible.

...

find the 18+ continuation on kofi or patreon!

if you have trouble finding it on there, just let me know!!<3

#bts fanfic #bts smut #bts x reader #bts scenarios #bts imagines #jungkook scenario #jungkook smut #jungkook fanfic #jungkook scenarios #jungkook x reader

2K notes · View notes

gay-dorito-dust · 6 months

Note

Hello! Can I request smt with Luocha, Dan Heng, Argenti and Boothill? (Separate, and dw if u don’t write for boothill ^^)

You’re dating them and randomly call them husband just to see their reaction. You just say it so casually too during a convo with maybe a friend or a family member

Argenti: ‘Argenti might as well be my husband at this point.’ You said to your friend after retelling a story regarding yourself and Argenti.

‘Awww! I wish Royland was more like Argenti.’ Your friend groaned, glaring daggers at the back of their boyfriend’s head.

Argenti visibly perked up at this, his eyes and smile were practically glowing. Did he hear you right, you consider him as a potential Husband? The gods have answered his prayers and quelled any worries that he might’ve had beforehand. For Argenti fully intends to be your husband one day and until then will commit himself to proving to you why he would make an excellent husband.

The moment he met you, to the moment you begun dating, all Argenti could think of was what it would be like being your devoted husband, your soul partner for the rest of your lives. No one else will do for Argenti but you, and he’s so loyal and extremely devoted to being your partner that the thought of looking at anyone else was so blasphemous; so much so that he’d rather hand you his eyes on a gold platter then ever be tempted by any other.

Argenti has had many dreams about your domestic life as a happily married couple, a happily married couple who were very much still in their honeymoon phase, but when he’s your husband that honeymoon phase would never fade away and die. He would make every day feel just as unique and special as the last few.

He might as well have ‘y/n’s husband’ as his name instead of Argenti because of how much he would use it when introducing himself to anyone new.

Needless to say by the end of the month to the day you and Argenti were officially married and more happy than ever.

Luocha: ‘Luocha would make an amazing husband, don’t you agree?’ You asked your friend, eyeing your boyfriend across the room for his reaction.

‘I thought Luocha was already your husband.’ Your friend asked, genuinely confused.

the moment Luocha hears his name being spoken he doesn’t think much of it, but when it was in the same sentence of as the word husband, that well and truly caught his attention. However it doesn’t take him long to realise what you were doing, but once he realised what was going on it was already too late, as the reaction you pulled out of him was very much a genuine one.

Neither of you had talked about it but according to your friend, you must’ve came across as to others a married couple anyways. So much so that even if you were to ever make it a reality nothing much would change at all for anyone other then himself and you; Yet that didn’t change the fact that the seed was planted and has taken ahold inside of Luocha’s mind as he walked towards you and your friend, placing a hand to the small of your back as he politely greeted your friend, acting none the wiser.

Well your friend might not pick up the hidden cues that told you that he knew, but you did, you could pick up his cues as easily as breathing which makes attempts at teasing one another all the more fun and interesting; Luocha could read you like the back of his hand and you were only starting to get the hang of reading him.

So the look he gives you may not seem like much to other people but to you, it was him telling you that he knew what you were doing, and you couldn’t help but smile back at him in victory because he took the bait you had put in place for him. You didn’t need to hear him to know that the first thing he’d ask once you took your leave would be:

‘I don’t think it’s wise of you to tease your husband. Do you?’

Boothill: ‘you and Boothill? Now that I didn’t see coming.’ Your friend joked as if you hadn’t openly said the most outrageous, thirsty shit about your now boyfriend.

‘Watch it because sooner or later he’ll become my husband.’ You joked back as you and your fiend shared a laugh.

Boothill flashes his sharp teeth in a wicked smirk upon hearing you call him your husband.

Oh now you’ve done it. He’s not going to let you live down the fact that you had called him your husband. He refuses to because he wants to see how you’d react to it. So he’ll make his presence know by confidently striding up to you and resting his hand on your waist, squeezing it, before smashing his sharp teeth once more but this time in a Cheshire grin.

‘Husband?’ He’d ask. ‘Have I secretly been promoted from being your boyfriend without my knowledge? I’m honoured sweetheart, but warn a fella next time before you go and pull this sort of stunt off. Oh wait,’ he pauses before continuing. ‘There’s not going to be a next time because you ain’t gonna be getting rid of me anytime soon. You’re stuck with me forever sugar.’ He cackles as he shamelessly swats you on the ass -hard- for good measure.

Yeah your plan kind of back fired on you because now your the one with the extremely flustered face, and now an sore ass that’ll become a bruise on top of that.

Boothill loved the idea of you belonging to him and only him and vice versa. He’s a possessive prick who’ll gladly put a bullet of two between the eyes of any bastard stupid enough to look at you for longer than a second.

He’s not one to share his treasure and never will be. You’re his now unto forever. Also he’d probably jokingly call himself your husband whenever you meet new people along your journey, and or scaring suitors off by screaming that you/him were married. (You very much weren’t but it works in keeping creeps away, so that’s a bonus.)

He plays on it so much that it’s an inside joke between the two of you and the two of you alone.

Dan Heng: ‘my husband Dan Heng, is just outside getting fresh air, he’s not fond of overcrowded social gatherings.’ You explained to your parents who shared a look of understanding.

Dan Heng, who had finally came back into the house, overheard this conversation and immediately his face burst into flames as his palms became sweaty all of a sudden and his breath hitched in his throat.

Husband?

Him?

Is that why he’s been invited for your family vacations with your parents, grandparents and relatives with their spouses of their own? All because they thought he was your husband? Dan Heng thought he was going to faint then and there from how many times he’s mentioned himself as your husband.

You’ve been together for a while now, but the fact that you were calling him your husband had him feeling some type of way that went beyond comprehension. He likes the idea of being your husband and has had a couple of shameless dreams where you very much were married and had a small family of your own, living a peaceful and loving life together and growing old together, still very much in love. However he always seemed to be at a loss for words when wondering whether in an alternate reality his dreams were your lived reality.

Dan Heng has so many thoughts on being your husband, one of them being that he’d be grateful in being chosen to be your life partner, while the other had still yet to find the words to voice his desire in being your husband aloud without being overcome by his own emotions. So until then he’ll have to suffer you freely calling him your husband in the presence of your parents, not that he’s complaining but he’d rather not be asked why his face still went so red when being called your husband, especially after so long of being assumedly married by your parents.

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surielstea · 4 months

Text

Guilty Pleasures

Based on this request.

Pairing: Azriel x Vanserra!Reader (fem)

Summary: Readers secret relationship with the Shadow Singer can’t be suppressed when Azriel finds himself in Readers room after a meeting with her brother, Eris.

3.4k words

The Forest House is crawling with night dwellers. That's what Eris had told me when he woke me up this morning, throwing a gown at me and telling me to get dressed before attending the meeting between Night and Autumn. Since my brother was the new high lord I could do little to argue with him, if he wanted me to participate I would be forced to do so. I was the farthest from the throne, and even less, a girl.

Though Eris seemed to look past the imbalance of power between us, even if it was blatantly obvious I had no choice but to do exactly as said.

I may not have not been the strongest fire wielder in my family, hel, Lucien practically started glowing whenever he conjured fire, but then again he's always been a little different from the rest of us. Without flame, I was dealt with the same cunning tongue as my father. It was a wicked trait to inherit, but also my best weapon. I could do more damage with my words than a sword because let's face it, internal wounds never really heal, and my father made sure he taught me that.

So I put on the deep green dress and tied the corset around my waist and bust tightly, keeping my retorts to myself about the style of the dress, wishing it wasn't so flashy. But this was a meeting with the Lord of Night he was flashy if anything, and so was the rest of his court. So I understand what Eris had been planning.

When I stepped into that meeting room I made sure I was making an entrance. Whatever discussions that had been ongoing before I walked in ceased. As his courtier, I was familiar with the members of Rhysand's court, specifically the two Illyrians flanking his left side. I flash the blue-siphoned male a sinister smile, reveling in the way his eyes drank me in, trekking down me from head to toe with an incomprehensible amount of lust, the kind that's guaranteed to have dropped panties before.

When his eyes return to mine I playfully look away with a smirk, making it clear that I'd caught him in the act. I take my place next to Eris at the other end of the table, his side comparably smaller in group size, void of friends and family like the High Lord of Night. But Eris did what he had to in order to survive, even if that meant pushing everyone else away— well, everyone but me. Because even with sheer determination, he wasn't able to get rid of me, who has been clinging so tightly to him since I was a child.

The meeting had already begun by the time I walked in so I didn't waste my time trying to catch up. I was only there to make an appearance, Eris had claimed it puts people at ease when they see a familiar face, invoking a more positive response. That was all I managed to pick up when he was explaining his schemes, I knew they'd stay true to our alliance. They needed us, we had one of the strongest armies, and even if they were guaranteed a win they didn't need to add bodies to the death toll.

The Shadow Singer's eyes tracked my every movement, he stared as I played with the ends of my hair, and practically started drooling when I flicked my eyes up to look at him every now and then. Gods he was so obvious, and they called him a spymaster?

I smirked down at my lap at the idea, picking at my nails to distract myself but it did little to help when I could practically feel his need for me from across the room.

The meeting went on for what felt like hours. I thought it'd be fairly straightforward when Eris explained it to me yesterday, I guess I underestimated the dramatics of the Night Court's strongest. Not to say it wasn't entertaining, but I found myself nearly laughing at some of the remarks made throughout the meeting.

Eventually, it was brought to an end. Rhysand had inevitably agreed to continue the alliance, just as Eris had suspected, and soon everyone was filing out of the meeting room.

I had beelined straight back towards my bedroom, aching to rip myself free from my revealing dress, in need to slip back beneath my sheets and go back to bed.

But as soon as I entered my room, I noticed there was someone's presence already occupying it. I was startled, staring at the Shadow Singer as he gazed at all the trinkets lined on my shelves. Most of them were souvenirs Lucien had collected for me during his travels across the continent. I was always jealous of him for that. While he was out exploring the world, I was still here, stuck in the same house I was born in.

"What are you doing?" I immediately question and Azriel whirls around, facing me with pure stoicism.

"Got lost," He shrugged.

"This is my room," I say with stern brows. He looked around the space, at the books on the shelves, the messy papers on my desk, and my unmade bed that was calling my name.

"Is it?" His eyes returned to mine and he took a bold step forward.

"Yes, if you need me to call a maid to escort you back to your room I'd be happy to oblige," I offered him a kind smile but he only continued with his strides, another pace, slowly closing the distance.

"That's kind of you," He takes one more step and suddenly I have to crane my neck up to look at him, my chest nearly pressed to his. "But I don't think that's necessary," He leaned against the door, closing it to peering eyes. At the newfound privacy, my smile widens and I practically tackle him to the ground, my arms sling around the nape of his neck as his lips crash onto mine.

I melted into the kiss and I swore for a moment he was holding up most of my weight. His hand comes to the back of my head, pulling slightly at my air and forcing me to back away.

"Gods, I missed you," He confesses through a breath. I beam, rising onto my toes and pecking him, pulling away as quickly as I came.

"I missed you too, Az," I murmur, pulling him so much closer. He stumbled forward and my back came into contact with the door, trapped between him with no exit. I couldn't find it in myself to complain.

His lips find mine again, like magnets pulling us together we slot into each other perfectly, filling every crevice and meeting every rendezvous of his touch. I reacted to his kiss in such a way that the first time our lips collided I thought I had lost my mind. It made me feel powerful and made me feel I was capable of so much more.

"It's been too long," I murmur as his hands trail down my sides, putting pressure on my waist, brushing along my hips, then curving along the side of my ass before reaching my thighs and hoisting me up.

"I know love, I know," He sighed onto my lips. I open my mouth wider, inviting his tongue as I wrap my legs around his torso while he holds me up.

His tongue dances with mine, like the last two warriors left on a battlefield, needy and restrained, torturous and passionate.

"I need you," I confess into his mouth and he grunts lowly at the words. "That meeting was cruel," I mumble while he begins to kiss down my neck.

"I know," He repeats, his voice desperate and raw. "The whole time I've been here I've only wanted to rip your dress off and fuck you on the floor," He admits and the apex of my thighs thrums with a chant of need.

"Then what are you waiting for?" I retort with a foxlike smirk. He pushes off the door, and rather than the floor he carries me over to my bed.

I grin against his lips in anticipation as he begins untying the back of my dress, the corset loosening and allowing me to breathe fully.

He pulls me free from it entirely, tearing my dress off and discarding it to the floor before he mounts over my mostly nude body. He lays me down, his lips coming to mind in a moment of need. I begin unbuckling his pants, tugging at them with needy movements. He helped, taking off his shirt for me while kicking off his pants.

His hands roam my body, over the curve of my breasts, past my waist, then finally to my hips where he found the waistband to my pink undies, toying with the lace.

"You wear these just for me?" He purrs into my mouth and I nod, capturing his lips with mine yet again. He pulls the lace down my thighs, allowing the cool air to hit my soaked cunt. I gasped as two of his fingers immediately delved through my folds, drenching his hand.

"Gods, you're soaked baby," He admires and I flash an embarrassed smile. He smirks at the reaction, pressing his dripping fingers to my clit with rough circles. My breath hitched before I let out a string of moans, pawing at the imprint in his boxers with an unquenchable need.

"Please," I beg.

"I have to stretch you out first," He tuts and I whine in protest. "I know, but it'll hurt otherwise be patient," He explains. Tears well in my eyes as I look up at him with a dramatic pout.

"I want it to hurt," I confess. "Make it hurt, I swear I'll be good." My pleads are met with a stern look from him. I palm him, my hand wrapping around the tent in his boxers, gripping him slightly and he grits his teeth at the feeling.

"I'm not stopping when you tell me it hurts," He threatens and I nod in agreement, my hunger becoming too strong to ignore as I pull down his boxers and his heavy cock slaps up against his abdomen.

My mouth waters at the sight, my pussy thrumming against his hand with anticipation.

He swipes his length through my folds and I revel in the feeling of his warm length running through my cunt, the ridges of his thick member adding friction to my sopping folds as I continue to lube him up.

"You sure?" He says, looking at me pointedly and I nod. "Be a good girl and use your words." He prompts and I swallow thickly.

"Yes, Az," I plead. "I want you," I add and before I know it he's aligning his tip and pushing the head of him inside of me.

I gasped, clawing at his tan back, drawing blood with my nails but he didn't seem to mind the marks I made as he pressed into me.

When Azriel fucked, he fucked good and hard. He didn't relent his pace and he only sped it up. He knew I was teasing him in my dress earlier, how tortuous it was to have me in the same room as him yet he couldn't have me, not how he wanted to have me. Not like this.

He made each of his movements rough and pleasurable. He snapped his hips into mine, my base meeting his as he began to roll his hips into me. "There Az, right there," I cry out as he finds a sensitive bundle of nerves nestled deep inside of me that only he could reach with his impressively long cock that he's molded me to, so it's only him I can seek pleasure with.

"Yeah? Be a good girl and open wider for me," He says and I do just that, spreading my legs as far as I can, allowing him to his me deeper as his balls slap against my ass. "Atta girl, taking me so well," He hummed and I smiled hazily up at him. It didn't hurt, or maybe it did and the pain hadn't settled in over the adrenaline— but all I felt was pleasure, I was too wet for there to be any discomfort.

"You feel so perfect wrapped around my cock baby," He admires, looking down and watching the way he disappeared inside my entrance. "Fuck, you're so tight," He grunts, bringing his scared hand down and pressing it to my stomach. I mewled at the feeling of him rubbing harder against my walls, clamping down around his base and making it harder for him to drive into me.

"You feel that? Feel how deep I'm in your pretty pussy?" He smirks and I nod with a whimper leaving my lips. He continues his brutal pace, pushing me up onto the bed with the force that he was fucking me with.

He grabs the back of my thighs and pulls my legs up, putting me into a mating press.

I wailed at the new position, practically feeling him thrust into my womb. "So good," I murmur and he only smirks.

"Yeah? You like it when I'm using you like this?" He asks and I flutter my lashes up at him, tears dripping down the sides of my face.

"Yes, love it when you use me Az," I confess and he twitches at the words. "All yours," I sigh out.

"That's right," He leans down to press a kiss at the corner of my jaw. "My perfect little slut," He purrs at the shell of my ear and I gasp, my orgasm nearing rapidly. "You like when I call you a slut don't you? Dirty girl," Azriel rolls his hips over mine as he speaks, creating a loss of words to form on the tip of my tongue, being replaced by moans and screams instead.

I pulse against his cock, my puffy pussy twitching around his base as he continues his vile movements.

"I'm gonna— Az, m'close," I warn and he kisses me with a smile, toying with me, seeing how long I can hold myself back from sweet release.

"Not yet baby, want you to cum with me," He directs and a whimper falls from my lips in defiance, the pain beginning to set in as I drag out my climax, forcing it away per his demand. I squeeze around his tighter, attempting to spur him on to find his release quicker.

"Az— s'too much, it hurts," I cry out and he smirks against my skin, nipping at the side of my neck before lifting up to meet my teary gaze with his lustful one.

"Poor girl, you said that's what you wanted." He kissed up the side of my face, licking away my salty tears. "Keep to your promise and I'll let you cum soon, alright?" He offers and I rapidly nod. "Good."

He presses me into the mattress, my thighs still at my sides as he folds me in half and forces his the head of his cock into my cervix. I gripe at the feeling, writing beneath him but fighting off my impending orgasm nevertheless. Moans spilled from my swollen lips and he basked in them, in all the noises I made as his cock pushed deeper into my cunt.

He twitches and I thank the gods, the signal meaning he was close and my torture would end soon.

"My perfect little slut, so good for me," He croons, his words ghosting over my lips but not quite attaching them, loving the way I gasped out with moans into his mouth.

I clench tighter around him and he grunts, his jaw feathering as he grits his teeth.

"Go ahead, make a mess all over yourself." He allows and I immediately meet his request, my release dragging screams out of me. I don't even know when my hands got into his hair but I pull at it as my climax takes me full throttle and I fall beyond words to describe just how glorious the euphoric feeling is.

"That's it, keep milking my cock just like that," He groans in pure pleasure, his warm seed seeping into each and every one of my crevices as his thrusts slow and he attempts to pull out from my tight cunt that was still clenched around him, not wanting him to disappear quite yet.

But eventually, he removed himself from me and I was left panting on the bedspread, pulsing around nothing.

"Alright, let's get you cleaned up before I have to leave." He scoops me up into his arms and I whine, my brows bunching into a knot as he carries me into the connected bathing chambers.

"I don't want you to leave," I whine and he settles me down onto the cold bathroom counter.

"I don't want to leave either." He meets my gaze, looking down at me with soft eyes that contrast with his rough movements from only a moment ago. "But I have a mission passing through here next week," He said, grabbing a cloth from beneath the sink and wetting it with warm water. "Maybe we can meet at an inn and stay there for a few days," He plans and a small smile spreads across my face.

"I hope you know I'm not planning to leave that bed the entire time we're together," I hum and he smiles cheekily, his dimples making an appearance. I cup his jaw in my hands, admiring the panes of his face as he begins to wash the insides of my thighs.

"Sounds like a perfect plan to me," He flicked his eyes up to mine, away from my pink folds, still irritated from his harsh actions. I gasp slightly as he runs over my clit with the cloth, my legs jolting with overstimulation.

"Sorry, I was so rough," He uttered, continuing his gentle ministrations. I shake my head, not accepting his apology.

"Felt good," I tilt my head back as if reminiscing about five minutes ago. "I wish you could stay for another round." My fingertips dance down his chest. He looks at me sternly, catching my wrist before it can get too low and placing it on his broad shoulder.

"You know I won't be able to leave if I get back in that bed with you," He stated and I nodded, biting into my lower lip.

"Exactly," I say and he hoists me up into his arms, discarding the dirtied cloth into the hamper and placing me back down onto my bed.

"I'll see you next week, alright?" His shadows bring me a pair of clean panties and the softest nightgown from my wardrobe.

"Next week is too far away," I groan and flop back onto my bed while he hikes my undies up my thighs and snaps them against my hips with a satisfying sound.

"I think you'll survive," He lifts me upright. "Arms up," He casually muttered and I did as he said, lifting my arms so he could slip the comfortable nightgown over my head.

"I don't think I will," I sigh once the gown is past my head and he offers me a soft, reassuring smile.

"Maybe I'll sneak by sooner," He dips down and presses a gentle kiss to my forehead. "If you're lucky," He warns as I wrap my arms around the nape of his neck and pull him onto my lips, kissing him with the same amount of heat as earlier, but also with an addition of love, my last ploy of getting him to stay. But he knew what I was doing, and he pulled away before he could fall for it.

"I'm sorry baby," He whispers and I frown. "I'll move things around and I'll come earlier than next week," He says but my frown remains. "And we'll spend days in bed, how's that sound?" He offers and a small smile forms over my pout. "Yeah? Good?" He asks and I nod with a cheeky grin. "Okay, I'll see you soon my love," He presses one last kiss to my lips, relishing the taste of me against him one more time.

"Bye Az," I murmur against his lips. He pecks me once again before shadows swarm around him and he is consumed by darkness, slipping through my grasp and leaving me alone.

But he'll be back sooner than next week, and his promises gave me more than just one thing to look forward to.

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sanguineterrain · 5 months

Note

Your writing is so damn good, you execute every request perfectly 😭

Could you maybe write something where Dick's insecure partner wants to break up with him because their self-image is getting worse cause they feel they can't catch up to the Golden Boy reputation, superheroes, billionaires and so on?

hi, thanks for the request! I hope I did it justice :) a brief interlude from jaytodd before we return to our regularly scheduled program lol

dick grayson x gn!reader. low self esteem, an almost breakup, reader feeling insecure, threatened, sad. happy ending! 2.1k words

****

You've been tugging at your outfit for ten minutes. At this rate, you'll have to concede that this is as good as it's going to get.

"My love, you almost ready?"

You sigh and watch your reflection fold its arms.

"Yeah," you say softly. "'M ready."

The door opens. Your heart swoops.

Dick is beautiful, as usual. Your boyfriend can do a lot, including fill a suit. Both your and his outfits were tailor-made because that's one of the perks of being the son of a billionaire.

Over and over, you'd insisted you could wear off-the-rack, and over and over, Dick had said that was silly, that Bruce wouldn't mind.

And it's true that what you're wearing flatters you better than anything from Macy's or Marshall's would've. But you know it won't help tonight. Not in a room full of Gotham's elite.

"Just as I suspected," Dick says, immediately draping his arms over your hips. "You're gonna steal the show tonight."

He's lying.

That voice in your head has gotten louder recently, and you don't know how to turn it off.

You kiss him instead of responding. Dick enthusiastically reciprocates, always delighted when you touch him. You used to think it would be enough.

But ever since you found out that not only are you dating a billionaire philanthropist with a face that makes angels weep, but that said guy is also arguably the most beloved hero in Gotham, maybe second only to the Batman (who's his freaking dad?!), you've begun to have doubts.

You pull back. Dick's tie perfectly sets off his eyes. They're bright as they look at you.

"Everything okay?" he asks, brushing your cheek with his thumb.

"Uh-huh," you say, trying to smile. "Just nervous."

“Hey, it's alright. I'll be by your side all night. I'll save you from any and all small talk, promise." He winks. "And we can duck out early, get hot chocolate from that place you like. They won't care."

Dick's always doing that. Always catering to you. You're just some nobody who happened to stumble into the best relationship you’ve ever had with a golden god.

Dick never reminds you of that. That he could do better. He doesn't have to—you know it all on your own.

You swallow. “Okay. If you're sure. I... I would like to leave early, Gray."

“‘Course, baby,” Dick says, attaching his cuff links. "Anything you want."

You turn back to the mirror, wondering if you can reinvent your personality before you go and remind everyone what a mistake Dick Grayson has made in choosing you.

****

The party is tasteful, though a little stuffy. You're only here because Dick is going to give a speech, and he asked you to come support him. And while you know it's better for him to go without you so you won't dull his shine, it seems Dick hasn't quite figured that out.

You hold onto Dick’s arm as he makes his usual rounds. Dick doesn't enjoy these events, you know that, but he's fluid in his interactions. There is no doubt he’s Bruce Wayne’s prodigy. With his suit, his hair, his easy posture, Dick is almost unrecognizable from when you woke up with him this morning.

He's in his element. All you can do is peer in and watch.

Dick leans in and slips a hand around your waist after the fourth interaction with a donor. A donor who, again, acted like Dick may as well have been dragging around a coat rack with how intently they ignored you. Not that you give a shit about what the one percent have to say about you, except sometimes they say a lot of mean things, things you're pretty sure they don't let Dick overhear, and sometimes you start wondering if Dick is the only person who can't see truth in what they say, and sometimes—

“Hey.” Dick leans in to talk in your ear. He's warm and solid. You wish that was a comfort. “You okay?”

You're exhausted.

“Uh-hmm.”

He is going to wake up one of these days and realize he can have it so much better.

Dick moves like he's about to say more, pull you closer and permeate your senses with his gold.

“Dickie!”

Sweet, tinkling laughter echoes across the room. The crowd parts for this new woman, an obvious socialite, dressed to the nines and gorgeous.

Her dress matches Dick's tie. You feel sick.

When she reaches you two, she wastes no time grabbing Dick and kissing his cheek. He extricates himself from her, like he's done a million times before with everyone else who thinks they're entitled to a piece of Dick Grayson. He shoots you an apologetic look. You look away.

“My God, it’s been what, ten years?” she says. Then she sees you. “Oh! Where are my manners? I’m Caroline Banesbury, Duchess of Middlesworth. I heard the Dickie Grayson was going to be here, and I had to come.”

“Been a while,” Dick says, smiling blandly. “How are you, Caroline?”

“Spectacular! Father just bought another castle. You should come and see it sometime.” She plucks a flute of champagne off of a passing tray and smiles behind the rim of the glass.

“Dick and I go way back,” she says, gaze roving over him. “I hear you're transforming Blüdhaven. Taking a page out of Bruce's book, hm? You always had a big heart, Dickie.”

She grabs his arm and links it with hers. You sigh and take a sip of your own drink. You half-wish Poison Ivy would come in and gas the room or something.

Dick clears his throat and maneuvers out of her grip once more, letting go of her with a light pat. He returns to you, snugly holding your shoulders.

"This is my partner," he says about you.

Caroline hums, looking over you. "I see. Pleasure."

You nod. She turns back to Dick.

“If I can be of any help to your project, you let me know,” she adds, glancing down at where her empty arm now hangs at her side. “Anything.”

“That's generous of you, Carrie.”

Dick and I go way back.

Oh. Right. You're stupid. They've dated.

“We should have dinner,” she continues. “Catch up. I'm dying to know what Gotham's darling has been up to.”

“I feel sick,” you announce.

Dick and Caroline turn to you. Caroline looks perplexed, like you've just said you like to chew concrete.

“Oh, I'm sorry to hear that,” she says, hardly sparing you a glance. "Perhaps you ought to lie down."

You feel Dick's eyes on you. If you don't leave soon, he'll know you're lying. Possibly the worst part about dating Batman's protégé.

Suddenly, leaving this hall is the most important thing you've ever had to do. You feel like you'll die if you don't.

Your feet start moving.

"Baby—"

Anyway, this is Caroline's chance. She can swoop in with her trust fund and while you think Dick can do way better than her—he can always do better—anyone is better than you. For Dick Grayson, who has been a master acrobat since he was a child, son of Batman, leader of the Titans, indubitably intelligent, capable, beautiful, the best goddamn guy you'll ever know—

You've lost your way. You're out of the gala, away from duchesses and doom. And you meant to get your coat but this hall that Bruce rented is enormous. You've no idea where you are. But you're alone.

Bruce must've known too, how unfit you are for his son. And why wouldn't he tell Dick? Unless Dick ignored him, because Dick, for all his smarts, is stupidly in love with you, thinks you're where he should put his heart, is certain you won't fumble and drop it.

Warm, callused fingers catch your wrist and you remember, suddenly, Dick telling you once, after you'd nearly stumbled into the street, that he'd never let you fall.

You meet his eyes. Why does he look at you like that? Who gave him the right to look at you like-like you—as if you could ever deserve—

"Hey," he says, squeezes your hand. "Hey, hey. What's going on?"

Dick Grayson is not a trusting man but he trusts you and good God, you're about to break him.

"I need to break up with you," you blurt.

"What?" he breathes. "What—why would you say that?"

You wish he'd give you the slip he gave everyone in that room, gently separate your arm from his hand. You never learned how to evade Dick's touch.

"Because it's true. Dick, please understand—"

"No, I'm trying to understand. Because yesterday—no, tonight, you were fine—"

"No, Dick, I wasn't fine! I haven't been fine in months!"

You wrench your arm away. He looks like you slapped him.

"You know anybody I talk to in there means nothing, right? You know that, honey." He's pleading.

You curl your fist into your eye. "It's more than that, Gray."

"Then tell me what the problem is," he says desperately. "Tell me and we'll fix it. I promise we can fix it."

"You can't!" you say, voice cracking. "You can't fix me."

Dick shakes his head. "I don't—"

"Why can't you let me break up with you with a little bit of dignity?" you ask. "Do you have to be better at this too?"

"I don't want to break up," he says, tugging at a handful of his hair. "This doesn't make sense. We're happy. You're happy, aren't you? Don't I make you happy?"

"Of course," you choke out. "Of course you make me happy. But you don't see I'm bad for you. You're wonderful and perfect and golden, Dick. And I'm a stain. I need to be scrubbed away."

"Wh—that's not true!"

"Everywhere we go, people see me with you and are immediately confused. I'm not a superhero, I'm not royalty, I'm not a socialite, and yet somehow I've managed to snag Gotham's darling. This is a mistake. I'm trying to do you a favor and wake you up!"

Dick's face is hard with anger. How could you have thought this would be easy?

"I don't need to be woken up! What is it that makes you think I have no agency over the people I choose to spend time with? Everyone I meet thinks they're entitled to touch me, demand me. Everyone but you. You, the person I chose to love, who I love everyday. Do you think you pulled the wool over my eyes and you're snapping me out of it? Is that what you really think?"

And isn't this the most puzzling thing? That he's not sad or gently accepting; Dick is mad.

"I just—" He runs a hand through his hair. "I don't mean to yell, but really, I can't bear it if you see me as some god on a pedestal, unattainable and inhuman, like everyone else sees me. I love you on purpose."

"You're so accomplished, though," you say weakly. "You're..." You wave your hand over him. "You're fucking Nightwing, D. You were Robin, you have superheroes for friends, Batman for a parent, you're beloved by, like, all of Jersey—"

"My love, you know those are just parts of me. You see all of me. You know me. And that's not a one-way privilege, okay? I'm so damn lucky to know you, to love you, to be with you, to fight with you. To fight for you. Knowing you isn't something I take for granted."

"But I'm boring," you say, tears spilling over. "Jesus Christ, Dick, I'm plain and untalented, barely a dime to my name, so painfully ordinary that—"

"Listen to me," he says, taking your face in his hands. "Flying around or shooting lasers out of your eyes, sure, it's cool, and it's helpful for taking down an alien dictator. But I don't need you to do any of that, honey. I don't need nor want you to be anyone but you. I wasn't tricked or swindled into loving you. We caught each other halfway, just like we were meant to."

You let him pull you into his arms, let him press your tear stains to his silk pocket square, let his hair fall around you.

His embrace is solid, firm, but when he inhales, his shoulders shake.

"Do you—" He swallows, throat against yours. "Do you still want to break up?"

His heart beats against your cheek.

"I'm just afraid you'll get tired of me," you whisper. "Bored. Annoyed."

"I won't," he whispers. "You're the least boring person ever. It's never boring to be loved."

You squeeze your eyes shut. Dick's warmth encloses you.

"No, I don't want to break up. I'm sorry."

He holds you tighter, and you realize you never had to match Dick's tie. Not when you've got his heart.

#dick grayson x reader #dick grayson x you #richard grayson x reader #Nightwing x reader #Nightwing x you #Nightwing fanfiction #dick Grayson fanfiction #dick Grayson imagine #Nightwing imagine #batman fanfiction #dc fanfiction #inbox #blurb

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justmeinadaze · 7 months

Text

Secret Underneath Part 2 (Steddie X Plus Size You)

Warnings: Daddy Steddie (Businessman Steve/ Rockstar Eddie) & Plus Size Fem Sub Y/N, SMUT (just pure smut; me working on this may be why I'm so subby right now lol), light smacking, slight spit play( if you squint), spanking, LOTS of dirty talk.

SLIGHT ANGST, like very slight, mentions of insecurities when it comes to the reader and her now knowing who they are. Brief mentions of an ex (that I can use for angst fodder later because I'm me)

More than anything they are feeling each other out and setting up some boundaries.

Word Count: 4835

Part 1

“Y/N, honey, are you alright?”, your friend asks as she lightly touches your shoulder before becoming distracted herself. “Maggie! I swear to God you kids are going to get me to retire early.”

“Promise?”, one of the kids teases.

Blinking, you pull yourself back into the moment, remembering the anonymity everyone requested including you.

“Ok, guys, come on. I think we bothered the people up here enough. There’s a reason they make so much money and it’s because they don’t deal with kids like you.”, you joke as you usher them to follow the guide.

It takes all of your energy not to glance their way again but you can feel their eyes trail after you as you disappear with the class.

After dropping off the kids on campus and making sure everyone gets home safe, you head back to your apartment. As soon as the door shuts you lean against the wood, sliding down to the floor as you cry.

You enjoyed being with Mogul and Rockstar the other night but now you know who they were. Were they going to leave now that you did? They wanted their identities to be private but never said for how long. After what happened, you were willing to wait but now… now what happens?

You hadn’t even began to fully process that they were millionaire womanizer Steve Harrington and famous well known party bad boy rockstar Eddie Munson. Insecurities had already begun to seep into your brain and it killed you.

Your phone vibrated causing you to roll your eyes and glance at the notification that danced across your screen.

(5:15pm) Mogul/Rockstar has invited you for a video chat!

(5:16pm) CurvyBabyWAttitude declined your invitation for a video chat.

(5:17pm) Accept the invitation.

(5:17pm) Please.

(5:18pm) Mogul/Rockstar has invited you for a video chat!

“Yes, Mr. Harrington and Mr. Munson, how can I help you?”, you answer in a short, annoyed tone.

“You can let us see your face for starters. If I wanted to look at the wall I can turn around.”

“Of your penthouse I bet.”

“We’re still in my office. We wanted to reach out earlier but we thought you’d still be on your field trip or at the school.”

“We wanted to give you time to get home so we could talk properly. Are you crying? Why are you crying?”

“Are you fucking kidding me? Look, you don’t have to pander to me, ok? I know now this whole anonymity thing is ruined and you’d rather be with someone more suited to your lifestyle.”

“Define ‘our lifestyle’.”

“For you, Mr. Harrington, I imagine some blond girl with big tits who comes from money and can squeeze her itty-bitty body into the most expensive dress your money can buy. For bad boy Mr. Munson, I see you with more or less the same but she’s cool like Janis Joplin.”

“I do like Janis.”

“So…big tits, money, and blond. Is there a height requirement?”

Your hand covers your mouth as you breathily laugh at their joke.

“No, no height requirement but according to princess here there is a weight limit. I guess because rich men like us are super vain we only care about a woman’s appearance and not her personality.”

“Is that right, honey? Or is the curvy baby with attitude a bit self-conscious?”

“THIS is why we wanted anonymity. We aren’t what you read in the papers, sweetheart. I’d figure the other night would have gone in the category of proving that. If we only cared about what you claim we never would have come down to the hotel.”

After a long exhale, you tilt your phone to allow them to see your face.

“I think you also forget, honey, we have seen you. Yeah, you were wearing that mask but we knew about your body, your hair, and your tits. We’ve had our hands on them, remember?”

“You just caught us off guard today because… now we regret making you wear that sleep mask thing. Your entire face is so fucking beautiful. I wonder if your real name is equally so.”

Leaning your head on your knees, you take in their demeanors on the other end of your screen. They did still seem to be in his office but they were both sitting on a couch within. Steve was still wearing his sleek suit and Eddie in a black shirt with jeans but their eyes were no longer reflecting surprise as they had earlier that day. Right now, they seemed to be displaying genuine concern.

“My name is Y/N.”

Both men softly grinned making you do the same.

“Beautiful… would, um, would you be willing to meet us in a couple of hours at that hotel? We’d like to talk to you some more. Maybe figure some things out when it comes to us three.”

“We’d invite you to our place but we feel like it might make you more comfortable for us to meet somewhere where there’s common ground…so speak.”

“You two live together?”

“Oh good. We can still keep some secrets!”, Eddie chuckles. “Yeah, no point for me to get my own place when I’m on tour a lot and Stevie here travels for work.”

“Ok.”, you nod as you rise to your feet. “I’ll, um, see you both in a couple of hours.”

##################

Nerves float through you belly as you stand outside the hotel door, exhaling as you prepare for what may be on the other side. To your surprise both men are already there, Steve pacing by the window as he scrolls through his phone while Eddie lays on his back on top of the bed.

As soon as the door closes, they come to attention, pausing as their eyes rake over your body. When you were here last time you had thrown on clothes not caring how you were dressed after your ordeal and today you weren’t expecting to see your two admirers so you were in your jeans and school t-shirt with a messy bun and sneakers.

This time you wanted to show off with your off-shoulder butterfly sleeve green blouse and black skirt that accentuated your curves. The black heels helped fuel any confidence you were lacking and your hair flowed down around you giving you that extra layer of armor as well as hiding that still prominent bruise you had lingering on your skin.

“Jesus Christ.”, Eddie breathed before clearing his throat and glancing towards Steve. “You know, seeing her now, Harrington, she doesn’t hit that height requirement we talked about.”

His friend rolled his eyes as you giggled.

“This is so surreal.”

“What is?”, Steve asked.

“I just…I just read about you the other day. About how you just made a big financial move that made you 400 million dollars. And you…I’ve been listening to your voice for so long. I have your songs on my phone.”

“Yeah? And is that bad?”

“Ah, no, Munson. It’s those insecurities again which by the way I find totally amusing for a girl filled with so much sass.”, the pretty boy grins. “If I may ask, what are the other Daddies like? Why aren’t you like this with them?”

You scoff as you saunter to a nearby chair, place your purse down, and sit crossing your legs. Both men try to control their eyes from scanning along your limbs but Steve in particular struggles to focus on your face as his gaze constantly shifts to your heels.

“A lot of men on there have no idea what they are doing and the men that I have met up with are either trust fund babies or CEOs. They aren’t famous or really worked hard for anything. Personally, I think that’s why they struggle being dominate. They don’t know how to fight or work hard. They barely even know what they want let alone how to take care of me.”

“Goddamn, sweetheart, you are sexy.”, Eddie sighs almost excitedly. “You have no reason to be insecure at all, Y/N. I mean we get it. Like I said, this is part of the reason we wanted the anonymity. We want you to like us for us not our names or status.”

“Is that what happened with your last Baby?”

They glance towards each other again before answering.

“No.”

“No…”

“No.”, Steve says again with more conviction. “No, that’s not what happened.”

“That’s all I get?”

“You get what we give you.”

Your breathing stutters a bit at the metalhead’s words as your pussy clenches at his casual yet confident tone.

“Y/N, honey, can you do me a favor and uncross your legs?” You do as he asks going the extra mile of opening them so they have a good view at your silk black panties underneath. “You have no idea how bad I want to throw those gorgeous high heeled legs over my shoulders and just fucking devour your little pussy till your shaking.”

A small moan escapes your lips but when you try to rub your thighs together for relief Eddie tuts loudly across from you.

“Ah ah, baby. Keep your legs open till we’re done talking and you!”, he chuckles as he gestures towards his friend. “Stay focused.”

“Yes, Daddy.”

“When it comes to sex, princess, is there anything we should avoid? Any hard no’s or anything like that?”

“Nothing…too rough. I’m not into masochistic stuff like canes and flogs but you can hit me or spank me. You’ll probably be doing that a lot.”

“Oh, don’t worry, baby girl. We can handle the brat.”, Steve grins as he winks, taking off his suit jacket and tie, tossing them on the other chair beside him.

“What about you two?”

That gives them pause before they smirk and the mogul continues rolling up his sleeves.

“Would you believe you’re the first woman to ask us that?”, Eddie ask as he shakes his head. “No, pretty girl. As long as you’re vocal and tell us when or if you’re uncomfortable, we’re happy. That being said, do you have a safe word you prefer?”

“I’m alright with ‘red’, Daddy.”

Steve walks to your side and extends his hand out for you to take so he can guide you to the edge of the bed beside Eddie before descending to his knees. The long-haired boy brushes some of your hair back and his ringed fingers lightly trace your bruise.

“How does this feel? Still hurt?”

“Yes, sir, but not as much as before.”

“Fucking asshole putting his hands on our baby girl.”, he growled low as his lips kiss your skin.

“That’s another thing, Y/N, because apparently we weren’t clear last time. You are ours. You belong to us and in turn we take care of you.”

“Are we still…still…keeping this a secret?”, you inquire trying to focus as Eddie’s kisses trailed to your neck while Steve’s mouth lingered on your thigh.

“Is that alright? Till we get more comfortable with each other and the dynamic.”

“Y-Yes, Daddy. Please.”

“Please what, baby? What do you want?”, the rockstar breathes in your ear.

“I want Daddy to eat my pussy.”

You watch as Steve’s head disappears into your skirt making you groan when his nose presses against your panty covered core and you feel him inhale.

“Fuck, she smells so fucking good.” His wide tongue flattens against the fabric and Eddie grins as your mouth falls open. “Jesus, Ed, and she tastes so sweet. Let’s get these off, honey.”

Nodding aggressively, you helped him pull down your panties and he tossed them towards his jacket. He licked a strip between your folds, wrapping his mouth around your clit, and repeating the process as his eyes watched your face.

“Oh fuck, Daddy.”

Eddie’s hand cups your cheek as he brings your lips to his, open mouth kissing you as his own tongue caresses yours. Your body abruptly jostles as Steve bunches your skirt around your waist and throws your legs over his shoulders before pressing his face into your cunt as his tongue vigorously flicked your bundle of nerves.

Your fingers threaded through his hair as you fell back against the mattress and grinded your hips. His large palms glide up your stomach as the other man lifts off your shirt and throws it to the floor. You moan, gripping the mogul’s wrist as his digits pinch and roll your nipple between them.

“Oh my God, yes, Daddy! I’m gonna cum!

Your orgasm crashes into you like a wave as Steve shakes his head from side to side helping you ride out your high. Refusing to slow down by any means, the man’s arms circle your hips, holding them down as he continues to run his tongue between you folds as he builds you back up.

Feeling a warmth beside you, you shift your gaze to see a now naked Eddie on his knees stroking himself by your face.

“Do you want Daddy’s cock, pretty girl?” When you don’t respond, his palm lightly smacks your cheek, his eyes scanning yours for discomfort when they finally meet. “I asked you something.”

“M’sorry. Da-Daddy’s mouth feels sooooo good.”

“Maybe I should have him stop so you can pay attention.”

“NO! No, please. I’ll listen! I’ll listen. I’ll listen.” When he repeated his question, you nodded as your free hand started to reach for him.

“No, baby. Just keep your hands on Steve. Fun fact, he kind of likes when you pull his hair while he’s making you feel good.”, Eddie grins as his palm pets your head. “Just keep your throat open for me, okay?”

“Okay, Daddy.”

A guttural moan left the rockstars lips when his cock slid through your parted ones. His girth overwhelmed you instantly but you loved the way he tasted as every vein dragged along your tongue.

“Fuck, sweetheart. That’s it. God damn Steve, her mouth feels amazing.”

As the metalhead began subtly thrusting his hips, you did what he suggested, gripping the other man’s hair tightly in your fingers as you tried not to gag.

“Hey. Hey, hey, hey.”, Eddie panted as he pulled himself back and you collected some air. “It’s ok to gag and drool, baby. We don’t mind it messy, trust me, and the thought of this pretty face choking on my cock just…fuck. Oh, wait. You’re going to cum again aren’t you?”, he says in an almost mocking tone that has your pussy clenching.

Almost abruptly, Steve climbs up your body and snake one of his hands behind your neck, lifting you just enough for your forehead to lean against his. Pushing his ring and middle finger into your core, the sound of your slick filled the room as he thrust them into you at a brutal pace.

“Cum again, baby. Come on. Soak Daddy’s fingers.”, he chanted under his breath as one of your arms wrapped around his neck. “I gotchu, Y/N. Daddy’s right here. Cum, baby girl. Keep your eyes open and on me.”

You screamed as the coil snapped, panting as your hair was yanked back.

“Keep your eyes open, little girl!”

His large digits continue to pump into you, slowing their rhythm as you gradually come down from your high with both men murmuring praises as they hovered above you.

Through heavy lidded eyes you see them smirk at each other as Eddie pats his shoulder as if to say thank you before he maneuvers around on the bed, flipping you onto your stomach, and pushing you up on all fours.

Steve lays on his back and hastily adjusts you till your in-between his legs. With a hungry gaze, you watch as he unbuckles his belt and pushes down his pants just enough to free his cock, stroking it in front of you as you wait.

“Go head, Y/N.”, Eddie permits making you smile as you tongue darts out to lick the precum off his tip. “Atta girl. Remember, it’s ok to be messy.”

“Just tap me twice if you need a minute, honey.”

“Ok, Daddy. Oh-Oh fuck.”

While you two were talking, the rockstar had placed himself behind you, collecting your arousal with his length before guiding himself into your entrance. You whimper at his size as your nails claw under Steve’s button up shirt down his abs.

“Fuck me, baby. I know. I’m sorry. I’m trying—shit—I’m trying to go slow but your pussy is just pulling me in…squeezing Daddy so tight.”

The man underneath you bit his lip as your face scrunched in pleasure.

“You’re so beautiful, Y/N. Such a good girl taking him so well.” Your hand wrapped around him as your mouth enveloped his cock, taking him as far down as you could. “Fuck, good-good girl.”

Once he was fully sheathed inside of you, Eddie waited, allowing you to get accustomed to him while you focused on his friend. Taking his recommendation, you lowered yourself as far down as you could, gagging around Steve’s massive size, and coming off him quickly leaving trail of spit that lingered on your chin.

“There you go. God, Y/N, that felt amazing. Do you want Daddy to take control?”

“Please… I trust you.”

Almost too gently, he lifted your hair into a ponytail, caressing your lips with his thumb as they fell open while Eddie began thrusting into you. When his cock found its way into your mouth again, however, he was anything but.

His mushroom tip hit the back of your throat repeatedly as he guided your head lower and lower onto his lap.

“You’re doing so good, honey. Fuck! K-Keep your tongue flat. That’s it, baby. Just like that. Mmm get Daddy nice and wet. Yeah? Is Eddie fucking you nice and deep?”

Tears consistently fell at the euphoria you were feeling as Eddie’s cock hit all the right places inside of you and then some while Steve’s words and actions were making you clench the rockstar to an almost a painful degree.

“Fuck, man!”, he blissfully shouted as he spanked your behind and slowed his pace as he watched his cock disappear inside you. “She fucking loves sucking your dick. Every time she gags, her cunt wraps tighter around me.”

The pretty boy grins as he pets your head and dries some of your tears.

“You like sucking my cock, pretty girl?”

“Y-Yes, Daddy, I love it.

“Can Daddy fuck your tight your little throat till you both cum?”

“Yes, Daddy, please!”

Eddie stills long enough for his friend to rise to his knees and slide himself back into your mouth, matching his pace as they both thrust into you. Your orgasm takes you by surprise as you roughly tap on Steve’s body and he immediately pulls back as your upper body collapses on the mattress. The rockstar grunts as reaches over to grab your hair, bringing you flush against his chest as he chases his release. His arms circle around to your tummy and you place your own on top of his as he slams his seed inside of you.

“Thank you.”, you whisper as you pant against his cheek and in response he tilts his head to kiss your lips.

“Come here, baby girl.”, Steve coos, his head ticking to the side when you shake yours.

“I don’t want to ruin your suit, Daddy.”

Smiling softly, he takes you in his arms and you can’t help but inhale his scent as you nuzzle your face into his neck. After placing you on the pillows, he tugs his shirt over his head and removes the pants the rest of the way.

“I don’t care about my clothes, honey. All that matters to me is that you’re comfortable and taken care of. Plus, it’s kind of sexy to me to have your gorgeous, naked, sweat covered body against my suit.”

Positioning himself between your legs, he brings one over his shoulder and lets out a long, pleasure filled sigh as he guides his cock into your somewhat overstimulated and dripping pussy.

“God…fuck me.”

At this angle, it felt like he was splitting you in half but in the best possible way.

“Mmph, fuck, Daddy. You’re so big.”

“I know, Y/N. I know but you can take it. You’re doing so well already.” Steve’s lips kiss your ankle just below your high heel as he gradually began finding his rhythm. “Keep your eyes on me, baby.”

When you didn’t do what he told you to, you felt him lean over you as he pressed his palms into the mattress to steady himself.

“Y/N, stop making us repeat ourselves. Now, open your eyes.”

“I-I’m sorry, Daddy. You feel—mmm—so good. I can’t—”

“Yes you can, little girl. Don’t let our kindness fool you. We can be mean when we need to be and have no problem punishing bad girls.”

Your eyes open to meet his dominate ones and just as Eddie had he scans your face for any signs of discomfort. When he found none, he rested his forehead on your own.

“This is the first time we’re really getting to see them.” Steve rolls his waist and you mewl as he roughly hits that sensitive spot inside you. “Right there? Ok, baby.”

His jaw goes slack as he pounds into you, slamming into you g-spot over and over again turning you into a moaning mess that drives him crazy. Pushing back on to his knees, you watch as a glob of spit falls from his mouth before he utilizes his thumb to rub it into your clit.

“FUCK! I’m gonna cum!”

The bed shakes underneath you as skin smacking skin loudly echoes through the room. The coil in your belly snaps for the final time that night and Steve’s lips crash to yours to capture every moan he can. After a few moments, his head dips to your side and his groans fill your ear as he empties himself inside you.

You wince as the man tries to carefully pull out, murmuring apologies as he kisses your face.

“Here, sweetheart, drink this.”, Eddie instructs in a gentle tone as he hands you a glass of water that you promptly chug back. “I’m going to go figure out how to turn the rocket ship they a call a tub into a bath so we can get you all clean.”

You giggle at his joke as Steve over exaggeratedly sighs as he presses his face into the pillow beside yours.

“He’s just trying to impress you by seeming more ‘down to earth’. Our bathrooms at home are more or less the same.”

“I’m sure they are better than mine. It’s a 30 sq ft cube and I shower with the door open so I don’t feel like I’m actually IN the movie Cube.”

His eyes scan you over as you laugh at your circumstance.

“I hope this doesn’t come off as rude so if it is please tell me but…you don’t make enough with the website to get a better apartment?”

“I don’t think it’s rude. Um, no. I don’t deal with too many Daddies. I mean I deal with them but not enough to actually get anything going or keep them around long term. Either they can’t handle me or I can’t tolerate them.”

“Girl who knows what she wants?”

“Girl who’s been through enough and is tired of wasting her time.”

He nods as Eddie saunters back into the bedroom to tell you the bath is ready but as he casually comes around to pick you up, you stop him.

“It’s ok. You don’t need to…”

As you start to climb out of bed, he places his palm on your chest and pushes you back down.

“I don’t need to what?”

“You don’t need to try and lift me.”

“Good to know.”, he responds sarcastically as he effortlessly lifts you in his arms. “Thankfully I don’t need to try. I already know what I can and can’t do.”

After removing your skirt and heels and placing you in the water, the metalhead climbs in behind you and begins cleaning your body as Steve, now donning boxers, places himself on the edge.

“Am I allowed to ask questions?”

“Of course, sweetheart, but we decide whether or not to answer.”

“I guess that’s fair.”

“Did you have a particular question in mind, honey or…?”

“Just some general things.”, you shrug. “Like I know you make a lot of money but I don’t actually understand what you do.”

“Um, the short answer would be I’m an investor, I guess. My father owned and ran an advertising firm that I took over. Then I utilized those funds to buy and resell properties. That business move you mentioned? I bought a building in Las Vegas and spruced it up. Since it was right on the strip it sold for a high dollar value.”

“Did that go right over your head?”, Eddie asked in jest.

“A bit.”, you smile shyly.

“Those kids you brought…what do you teach that would bring them to my office?”

“Oh, that wasn’t my class. I was helping my friend with her field trip because another teacher called in sick. She teaches economics; I teach English.”

Both men make a subtle ah noise as they chuckle.

“Almost all of students know you.”, you smile as you shift your focus to the rockstar. “They say you need to post more on social media.”

“Yeah, I have no idea how any of that works. I just post what they tell me and Gareth runs our band one. I’m an old man, sweetheart.”

“Oh my god. No, you aren’t.”, you laugh as you keen into his chest.

You don’t see it but both men exchange another look before Eddie wraps his arms over your own and holds you tightly against him as he kisses your shoulder.

“I’m, um, assuming that doesn’t bother you…that we are older?”

“Most sugar daddies are, honey.”

“That’s not what I asked.”, Steve scolds as he reaches out to lightly grip your chin.

“No, it doesn’t bother me.” Nodding at your answer, he releases you to take hold of your hand and help you to your feet to step onto the bathmat allowing the metalhead to do the same so he can dry you. “Do it bother you?”

“No, baby girl, it doesn’t.”

“Now if any younger guys are out here hitting on you—“ Eddie smiles when your loud belly laugh cuts him off.

“Trust me, no one is hitting on me. I’m not saying that in like an insecure way. I’m just, usually my sarcasm gets in the way.”

After leading you back into the bedroom, you’re surprised when Steve grabs his shirt and puts it on you, falling to his knees as he closes the buttons.

“This material feels nice.” A sexy smirk paints his face as you watch his fingers move. “Smells like you.”

As soon as he completes his task, his face presses into your stomach as his hands tenderly trail up one of your legs.

“I smell cigarettes to. Almost like my best friend insists on smoking around me.”

“Oh, sure, because you don’t smoke with me sometimes.”, Eddie teases as you both smile. “I like that you smell like us both though. Let’s people know you belong to someone already.”

Taking a hold of your bicep, he guides you under the covers and you immediately spoon your body into his as he circles his arm around you again.

“Should I…remove my profile from the site?”, you ask sleepily as Steve lays in front of you and brushes some of your hair away from your face.

“We would appreciate that. Tomorrow we can give you our number so we can talk directly on the phone and get some more information so we can send you money when you need it. I would also like to work on getting you a better place to stay. I don’t like you being in a small place where—”

“Steven.”, Eddie chuckles as he interrupts his friend. “Look at her.”

As his eyes glanced over you, he realized you had fallen asleep, your steady breathing and calm face making them swoon.

“Am I asking for too much? I hate the idea of her living somewhere she isn’t comfortable.”, the mogul inquires as he slides further under the covers and caresses your skin while the rockstar props up on his elbow.

“She doesn’t seem like the kind of woman to do anything that would make her uncomfortable.”, he grins. “But no, I don’t think you’re going overboard.”

“You know how we are. That’s why women always took advantage of us.”

“That’s why we’re taking things a bit slower this time so we don’t have another incident like last time.”

Steve growled under his breath at the thought.

“I don’t think Y/N would be as vindictive as our ex was. Yeah she’s got a mouth but she seems up front and honest. I like that.”

“Me to.”

“I hope we aren’t wrong about this one, Ed.”

############

@aol19 @paradisepoisons @paleidiot @dashingdeb16

@lilaclazer @joannamuns9n @thwippyparker @emotionaldreamer

@aactuaaltraash

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moonstruckme · 10 months

Text

Busybody

summary: when Steve notices your anxiety spiraling out of control, he finds his own way to help

cw: anxiety

Steve Harrington x fem!reader ♡ 1.3k words

You’d woken up with some busybody in your chest that you can’t get rid of.

It feels like you’ve had three cups of coffee despite your four hours of sleep. You’d all but jolted awake, pre-panicked about something that you haven’t identified yet. Something you have to be forgetting, or not assigning enough importance to, surely. And the way you figure it, if your body’s going to freak out at you about being idle, you may as well appease it and hop to.

By the time Steve cracks an eyelid, you’re thinking about what to make for lunch. Heart never having left your throat, you’ve cleaned the kitchen, baked a blackberry cobbler, tried to read a few pages of your book before giving up for fidgetiness, reorganized your portion of the bathroom cabinet, and begun a grocery list for the week.

“Morning,” he yawns, leaning against the counter. He’s looking endearingly rumpled, a faint red line on his face from a crease in his pillowcase and his hair pressed flat on the one side. You smile at him as he rubs the sleep from his eyes. “Smells like fire in here.”

“Morning! I made a cobbler,” you explain, not mentioning the burnt first attempt that’s smelled up his kitchen despite you opening all the windows. “Do you want some bacon, eggs, and toast for breakfast?”

Steve blinks, eyebrows rising slightly. “Uh, sure. You gonna make me some?”

“Mhm.” You’re already taking the eggs out of the fridge. “Scrambled?”

“Yeah. Thanks, babe.”

“No problem.” You grin, happy to be of use as you whisk his eggs with a fork, turning on two burners of the stove to preheat as you do. “How’d you sleep?”

“Good,” he yawns. “Well, pretty good. Woke up a couple times this morning, but you were already gone. Been up for a while?”

“Yeah, couldn’t sleep.”

Steve nods, frowning. “Sorry, honey. You didn’t get much chance to sleep the night before, either, right?”

You hum, bacon sizzling when it hits the pan. You put the toast down in the toaster, hoping you’ve timed it right so it’ll still be warm when everything else is done. “Oh, do you want orange juice?”

“Sure, but I can grab it.” He moves for the cabinet, but you nudge in front of him, too restless to stop moving while everything heats on the stove.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got it.” You shoot him a smile as you grab a cup. Steve returns it, but muddled.

“So between last night and the one before, how many hours have you gotten?”

You shrug. “Not sure.” Nine, give or take. “But I don’t feel tired.”

“Well, that’s good,” he says slowly, watching as you fill the cup with orange juice before hustling back to the stove, flitting between tasks at something approaching light speed.

“Hey, so I was thinking,” you go on, flipping the bacon, “do you want to do some Christmas shopping today? I mean, I know you said you’re not thinking about it yet, but it can’t hurt to get a jump on things.”

Steve yawns again, stretching his back. “Yeah, that sounds okay. Not sure I’d know what to get anyone.”

You nod a few times. “Maybe you’ll know it when you see it.” Flip the bacon onto a plate, add more pepper to the eggs, put the bacon’s pan in the sink, turn off that burner on the stove—the toaster goes off, and you nearly hit your head on the ceiling. You jump straight up.

“Oh.” You press a hand to your chest, laughter tripping off your tongue. Your blood thrums excitedly, like it’s finally found the outlet it's been looking for all morning. “God, that scared me.”

“I could tell,” Steve says, eyebrows at his hairline and smiling faintly. “You doing alright?”

“Yeah, good.” Your heartbeat has become more noticeable all of a sudden, a hollow ache behind your breastbone. “I’m almost done, just a sec.”

“No rush, honey. Thanks for making me breakfast. It looks great.”

“Of course, no problem.” You plate up the rest and spin to find Steve already there, his hand the only thing stopping you from nearly flinging the dish into the wall surprisedly.

“Thank you,” he says earnestly, taking the plate from you and setting it on the counter. He brings his arms around your shoulders, and you wrap yours around him too, an automatic response. Steve sighs, his ribs expanding and contracting with the force of it, and you copy him mockingly.

“Still tired, baby?”

“A little,” he admits. “Though I can’t really complain, considering how little sleep you’ve gotten.”

You make to pull out of the hug, but Steve tightens his grip on you, palm pressing into the midpoint of your upper back. You give in, a willing captive.

“It’s fine,” you tell him. “I’m sorry you’re tired.”

Steve hums, taking another big breath. “I’m good.” A pause. “Okay, you can tell me if I’m crazy, but it does smell like something’s burning in here, right?”

“Burnt,” you admit. “I left a blackberry cobbler in the oven a bit too long. The one in the fridge is a re-do.”

“Oh, okay.”

“Sorry.”

“No, don’t be. I think the smell’s clearing out anyway. Right?”

You sniff experimentally at the air. “Yeah, I think so.”

“Yeah?” he sniffs too.

You inhale more fully, only detecting the faint remains of smokiness under the newer scent of bacon grease.

“I’ve never had blackberry cobbler,” he says, palm beginning to coast slowly between your shoulder blades while his other arm stays firmly around your waist. “What’s it taste like?”

You perk up. “Wanna try some now?”

“No—I wouldn’t want to ruin this breakfast you’ve made me. Describe it to me.”

It’s an odd request, but nothing you can’t manage for him. You think back, letting your tongue conjure up the memory of the last time you had it. “Well, the blackberries aren’t tangy by the time they’ve been cooked,” you tell him. Steve hums, hand solid and steady on your upper back. “And this recipe is really sweet. The dough is kind of like sugar cookie dough.”

“Sounds good,” he says appreciatively. “Hey, do you think you can smell it?”

“From inside the fridge?” You take your head from his shoulder to give Steve an odd look.

“Sure, just give it a try.” He closes his eyes, inhaling deeply. You wrinkle your brow, sniffing tentatively. Steve opens his eyes as if to check you’re doing it, and it’s the worry in his look that gives him away. Your bemusement gives way to fondness as you take a long breath in, filling your lungs and holding the air inside you for a few moments before emptying them. You know what he’s doing, but you’re letting him anyway.

“Mmm, don’t think I can,” you tell him wryly.

“No?” Steve’s smile is sheepish, well aware you’re onto him. “Do you think we should find three things you can touch, just for fun?”

You roll your eyes at him, but inhale again as you hug him tightly. Some of the pain in your chest eases. “Thanks, Stevie.”

“What for?” he asks, hand resuming its route between your shoulder blades. “Hey listen, I’m all about your Christmas shopping idea, but do you wanna try taking a hot shower first? It might help you relax.”

“That’s a good idea,” you admit, peeling away from him. He lets you this time, albeit reluctantly. “Your breakfast is going to get cold.”

Steve looks at it as though just remembering it’s there. “Right, thanks. Sit with me while I eat? You could have some of that tea you like.”

You smile at him, taking a mug and your herbal tea down from the cabinet. “Yeah, that sounds good. Thanks.”

“You’ve got to stop thanking me, I haven’t done a thing all morning.”

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hellsgreatestslut · 4 months

Text

A little help

summary: you're Vox's assistant and you catch his eye...lets just say you decide to help him out with a little problem in his pants

🎀

You were Vox's assistant, always near him, always helping him. Oh what a sweetheart you are, nodding intently when he talks, responding to him with that smooth voice and doing so much for him. He just can't help but admire you!

At first you were just another employee, he didn't pay a single thought to you outside of if you're useful for him. But with some time his thoughts begun wandering.

It first happened when you started talking to him about all the ways he could make VoxTek even more profitable. At the very start he was listening, it was important talk over all. Yet as minutes passed by his gaze started slipping. It's normal to look at someones lips when they're talking, right? Well, he doesn't usually do that, but it's nothing, really. What about the way your blouse is hugging your tits just perfectly? Shit, he's fucked.

Can you blame him when he started watching you work through the cameras? He does that with everybody! Maybe not to the extent that he does with you, but is it really that important? You just look so gorgeous in that tight skirt, biting your lip while you focus on the screen in front of you.

After some time he watches you outside your work too, he just has to see what his pretty little assistant does outside of working for him. Just don't think too much about the time he let it slip that he knows what drink you always buy at the store, it was just a guess! How does he know that you add two spoons of sugar into your coffee? You told him about it, silly! Don't worry! It's not like he's stalking you!

Months and months pass by and he has a bunch of folders with videos and photos of you. One of you at your house - is it that important how he got it? - another of you at a bar, a video of you talking with some sinner that you call a friend, he has it all.

And by that point right after you leave his office he pulls up all the videos and photos on all this monitors and strokes his cock that got impossibly hard at the way you subconciously leaned in, revealing just the tiniest bit of cleavage. Fuck, he's pathetic.

What's even more pathetic? The fact that it becomes normal with time. He sees you, both of you talk, you leave and he jerks off. Oh, how he wishes he could touch you, but no. He has to stay professional. You're the only person he will be a gentleman to. And what if you act disgusted when you find out what he has been doing? His little obsessed heart won't take it!

One day the cycle repeated, but this time you noticed you left your phone on this desk. So obviously you knock on the door again, but you hear no answer.

-I'm coming in, sir. - You say and open the door, you gasp when you see what's inside.

Your boss looking at a bunch of photos of you with half lidded eyes, groans escaping his lips as he strokes his dick. What a sight. And what a cock. He didn't even hear you, so immersed in his fantasies. Your name slips out in a needy tone. He wants you so bad, no, needs you, that you can't help but close the door behind yourself and come up to him.

-May I help? - You say sweetly, startling him. All the photos of you immidietly dissapear from the screens as Vox frantically tries to get a hold of himself.

-Oh, fuck! W-what are you doing here? - He starts putting on his pants, but you put a hand on top of his, stopping him.

-May I help? - You repeat and it takes a moment for him to catch on.

-Fuck yeah. - He murmurs and only God knows how he hasn't completely overheated by that point.

You sink to your knees and pull his pants down to his ankles. You admire his pulsating dick for a moment before you put your hands around the shaft and stroke it. Vox's fingers tangle themselves in your hair as he moans, his hips bucking into you.

You part your lips and lick the precum on his tip. What a good little assistant you are. You teasingly lick along his shaft before taking him in. His grip on your hair tightens, almost painfully so, yet all you can focus on is him filling up your mouth so perfectly. Second after second your lips inch closer to his balls before finally having him whole inside of you.

-Shit, you feel so good. - Vox mumbles while tears threaten to spill from your eyes. - You definetly did this before.

A small smirk plays on your lips as you hear his words. You slowly begin bobbing your head, fastening the pace as you hear content sounds leaving your boss. The tears finally stream down your cheeks as he bucks his hips into your mouth, his size streching you as your muscles try to accommodate. You feel the hot precum at the back of your throat, your nails digging into his thighs for stability.

You sense him approaching his orgasm, his moans becoming more strained, his movements more erratic as he forces your head up and down faster, using you like a toy.

As the finally cums with a loud groan, your name leaving his lips like a prayer, you make sure to swallow as much of his seed as you can. You finally pull away with a pop, your face reddened and puffy. Vox cups your cheek.

-You did so good, baby, I know you can do it one more time.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin hotel vox #vox smut #vox x reader #smut #the vees #hazbin hotel vees #slutsderangedthoughts

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exitpursuedbyavulcan · 1 year

Text

Studious III (Aemond Targaryen x Reader) 18+

In an attempt to help you understand his recent behavior, Prince Aemond you his diary to read. What will you find within?

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader (second person, no use of Y/N)

Warnings: non-graphic smut, perhaps Aegon's best commentary yet, more Aemond being an awkward idiot

Author's Note: The diary is being split into two part, which means this will turn into a six part series. Enjoy!

Read Part I Here - Read Part II Here

My Masterlist

Taglist will be done via reblogs (there are simply too many of you to fit here)

Studious III

Aemond’s diary was magnificently bound. The cover was made from supple, well-tanned black leather, which had likely cost a fortune by itself. The pages were so precisely cut that you had to run your finger across the edge several times for your nail to catch. And the paper itself was smooth and rich, far finer than any you had ever written on.

The benefits of being a Prince, you supposed.

You considered for quite some time whether to start reading Aemond’s diary – gods, he had given his diary, that gesture of trust would take more time to fully process – at the beginning or at the first ribbon. More than a dozen of them, each made of fine green velvet, were laid throughout the pages marking what he most wanted you to read.

Reasoning that the beginning was the most logical choice, you opened to the first page:

The 1st day in the first moon of the year.

It is after midnight that I am writing this, the very first moments of a new year. The Maesters believe it will be another year of summer, but time will tell.

The Small Council has begun making preparations for autumn, so the Crown will be ready the moment word arrives from the Citadel that winter is approaching. I have asked Grandsire to include me in these preparations so that I may learn how…

You looked away from the page, wiping the sleep from your eyes.

It wasn’t that it was boring, exactly. But it was pretty typical – nothing that revealed anything new about Aemond. Though you supposed the fact that he began a new diary on the first day of the year, rather than whenever you filled the journal you were using – as you did – said something about how regimented he was. Orderly.

Still, with each word, your gaze was drawn to the green ribbons. To the passages he most wanted you to read.

You suspected they were all passages relating to you.

So, with the promise that you would eventually return to find out what, exactly, he wanted to learn about the Crown’s preparations for winter, you grabbed the end of the first ribbon and let the pages fall…

The 16th day in the third moon of the year.

The betrothal has been settled. Finally.

I doubt I could have endured another miserable day of sitting in Grandsire’s study, listening to him read each of the letters sent by lords from throughout the realm, desperate to pawn their daughters off to a Prince of the Realm. Though I suppose I should be grateful he had already whittled the list down to only the two-score ladies he found the most politically advantageous.

Aegon told me that more than a hundred letters arrived. So, it could have been much worse.

Every letter was nearly the same, listing the family’s wealth and assets along with their daughters ‘accomplishments.’ In truth, calling them such seems far too generous. What does a scrap of embroidery or a reasonably well-played song truly accomplish, other than a few fleeting moments of mediocre beauty? It always fades.

Besides, every highborn lady is trained in the same skills, so they are hardly exceptional.

You frowned, looking up from the journal and at the dozens of examples of your own embroidery scattered throughout the room – including on the blanket you laid under. True, they were not always perfect, but you were proud of each and every one of them.

Then there was your little lyre, sitting by the sun. You hadn’t had the chance to play since coming to the capital, and you realised in that moment that you truly missed it. Once, it had been second nature to pick it up immediately upon waking and pluck nonsensically at the strings as your maids readied you for the day.

Those songs – if they could be called songs at all –were always your favourites. Wholly unique creations of your mind, never transposed, never to be played the same again. Briefly, you almost stood and retrieved the lyre, just to see what your hands would create in this moment.

But that would require setting down Aemond’s diary.

You looked back down at his words and frowned again. It took no small amount of time and effort to develop your skills. In fact, you were quite proud of what you had accomplished. No one was born knowing how to embroider or play music.

Neither was anyone born knowing how to wield a sword or ride a dragon.

Your frown faded at that thought, as you imagined how Aemond would look if you said that to him. The memory of him in the library when you snapped back at him, looking like a befuddled fish, returned to you. It was so enticing that you called for one of your maids to bring your diary, a pen, and ink.

Turning to the first blank page, you noted the date of Aemond’s offending entry and wrote out exactly how you would rebuff him if he had said such a thing to you.

Perhaps, when you were done reading, you would tell him.

The lady we chose – my betrothed now, I suppose – is the only one that could possibly be called ‘exceptional,’ even if only among her unimpressive peers.

I almost dismissed her, for the letter written by her father was almost entirely unremarkable.

She is accomplished, as all highborn ladies are. Her father wrote that she crafts beautiful embroidery, plays some instrument or another moderately well, and is an able conversationalist. I believe there was also something about flowers – she likes them, or grows them, or enjoys arranging them?

But none of this is truly remarkable. Indeed, as Grandsire read, I admit I was not giving him my full attention. Why would I? I had heard the same words at least a dozen times already.

And then – ‘much of her free time is spent in the library, and she can rarely be found without a book somewhere on her person, even if it is just a miniature concealed within her sleeve. She is quite brilliant, if it is not too presumptuous of me to say so.’

That I had not heard before.

You preened slightly as you read your father’s praise. While your mother admired your dedication to your studies, she also worried that your intellectual pursuits would frighten your suitors away. ‘No man wants a wife smarter than he is,’ she once said.

Your father, however, had encouraged it. Once, you went to his study to show him a new book you’d found, only to overhear his steward expressing his concerns about how much the new library acquisitions were too costly. Your father dismissed him and his ‘concerns.’

And it seemed the investment in your education paid off if it caught the attention of a Prince.

It piqued Grandsire’s interest as well. After he finished reading the letter of introduction, instead of moving on to the next girl, he turned to Mother and asked for her opinion – of both the lady and her family.

Mother did not have overwhelming praise, but neither did she have any complaints. They are not the most powerful ally, though they will strengthen our position adequately enough. The Lord and Lady are friendly, if a bit dull, so it would not be an annoyance if they were to visit King’s Landing after the wedding. And they are pious – her parents have made many journeys to Oldtown and the Starry Sept.

You picked up your pen to again write a rebuttal but stopped. It wasn’t a particularly kind assessment… but it wasn’t inaccurate. You loved your parents, but even you could admit they were ‘a bit dull.’

The miniature portrait that arrived along with the letter shows that her appearance is agreeable, is somewhat plain. Though I suspect that she will wish I could be called the same. Indeed, she will be lovely standing next to me. And Mother says she will look very fine in either green, black, or even red.

It is a good match – politically and strategically, of course.

And if she truly does enjoy reading so, if she is ‘brilliant’ as her father says…

Perhaps marriage will not be so bad.

I am under no illusions that this is, or ever will be, anything more than a political arrangement. An obligation on both our parts. I know that I am neither suited to nor deserving of love.

I have negotiated with Mother and Grandsire that her chambers will be far from mine. Within the Holdfast for her safety, but far enough away that she will not be forced to see me more than our duties require.

By both her father’s and my mother’s accounts, she is kind. I am not.

A political arrangement. That is all it will be – all it must be.

But I hope that in choosing her, I can find some companionship in the arrangement. At the very least, perhaps we can discuss our favourite books.

Any offence you took at being called ‘plain’ was overshadowed by the aching in your heart at seeing how little Aemond thought of himself.

Yes, he was scarred. But he was still achingly handsome.

As far as you knew, he had done nothing that would make him undeserving of love. Surely everyone was deserving of love. At least, that is what you were always taught by your Septa.

He had said some unkind things to you, but now… after reading his note, you knew they must not have been meant as such. He was trying to be kind. He just didn’t know quite how.

The urge to throw the diary aside and run to him immediately threatened to overwhelm you. But he asked that you read, so you could know and understand him. And you were not finished yet. So, after taking a moment to clear your head by writing out a list of your favourite books, you turned to the next marked page.

The 9th day in the fifth moon of the year.

The man who painted that portrait should be flogged. Publicly. Or hanged, perhaps. For he has done to my betrothed the gravest injustice.

She arrived today. And I have been forever changed.

There is no creature more beautiful in the world. Not even Sunfyre is as radiant as her. And that imbecile of an artist – if he can even be called such a thing – made her look plain.

I shall burn that portrait immediately, and locate a true artist. One who is capable of capturing her loveliness.

Though it may be that such a thing is impossible. For it is not just her appearance that is so enchanting, but indeed her every aspect.

Her voice is more beautiful than any other sound or music I have ever heard. And she speaks with such elegance and intelligence! The reports were true – she possesses a brilliant mind. There was so much I wanted to ask her, to discuss with her, but I found myself unable to say any of it.

The words were so clear in my mind, and yet my mouth would not move. I do not even know if I actually greeted her, or if I only thought to do so. I must have, or else Mother would have scolded me. I wonder what I said…

You laughed slightly. He had only said two things to you that first day. When you rose from your curtsy in the courtyard, the first time you had looked into his eye, all he had said was your name.

He had been entirely silent the rest of the day.

Then, as you exited the welcome feast later that night, he looked into your eyes again. Finally, after a moment of furious blinking, he had said your name again and then turned abruptly to leave.

The first of many times he had done so.

You had thought he simply hadn’t wanted to speak with you, but it seemed you were very, very wrong.

From that very first meeting… he liked you.

It was almost humorous how quickly he gave up on his declaration that your marriage would be nothing more than a ‘political arrangement.’

No, it was more than just humorous – it was hilarious. And more than a little flattering.

Stoic Prince Aemond, who since losing his eye had been as cold and unfeeling as stone, was practically smitten with you!

Suddenly, you realised that you were smiling so wide that your cheeks were beginning to burn, and in your delight, you had apparently kicked your legs about – your blanket now lay on the floor. But you didn’t care. You were blushing so much that you were perfectly warm, even in your flimsy nightgown.

And as you read further, your blushing did not stop.

The 10th day in the 5th month of the year

I spent nearly the entire day in her presence, and it has made me ever surer of my initial assessment – my feelings.

She is wonderful.

I was worried that, this morning, she would be different. That I would wake and find that my mind had played tricks on me yesterday, and she was not as beautiful, or sweet, or kind as I first thought. But, to my unending delight, she is all of it and more.

Mother and I met her and her own Lady Mother in the Royal Sept early this morning. When plans for the wedding were first being made, I did enquire about the ceremony being held not there, but in the Grand Sept. However, the request was firmly denied.

Grandsire gave me various explanations – that the expense was too great, that her family would be able to remain in King’s Landing for only a short time due to the coming winter, that the Grand Sept would be too busy preparing for the coming harvest celebration, and any number of other foolish things. I appreciate that he tried to shelter my pride, but it was unnecessary.

I know the real reason.

I am a Prince, but I am the third born. The second son. And my betrothed… she is the fifth born, if I remember correctly, although the eldest daughter.

I – we – are not worthy of the honour of being wed in the Grand Sept.

Perhaps if her family were more powerful, maybe one of the Great Houses…

Why do I even care? Being Wed in the Royal Sept is still an honour, and the gods will watch over us no matter where we say our vows. But still, I want it.

I want it for her.

I want to see her face alight as she enters the Sept and sees not only its magnificence but its each and every alcove filled with hundreds of people all there for her – for us.

We will both have to settle for the lesser beauty of the Royal Sept and a few dozen witnesses in place of the hundreds she deserves.

You would have loved to be wed in the Grand Sept – to have been given that great an honour.

But you had never considered it until reading Aemond’s words. And though you tried to make yourself share in his regret, you were unable to truly feel it. Nor could you feel any offence at his comments about your own importance and that of your house.

All you felt was a pang of sadness that Aemond considered himself so unworthy, as did his family, it seemed. After the sadness faded, there came a blossoming warmth in your chest, that he wanted it not for himself, but for you.

You picked up your pen to write something, but couldn’t think of what to say. That you wished he wasn’t a second son? That he was just as important as his elder brother, or his sister, the heir?

In the end, you simply wrote: ‘Thank you. Perhaps we can visit the Grand Sept soon. Together.’

At least there will be a suitably grand celebration after the ceremony.

Gods, am I actually looking forward to the feast? I hate feasts.

I hate the crowds, the overloud music that somehow does not drown out the din of the drunken guests gossiping like fools. I hate being forced to sit and watch while the people that claim to be noble and dignified gorge themselves like rats on obscenely rich food and repulsively strong wine. I hate all the cowering girls that approach me only because their fathers want to secure an advantageous marriage, who Mother always tries to make me dance with – oh, that’s it.

I will not have to listen to the music or the gossiping. I will not have to watch the crowd or dance with any girls who look at me as if I am some creature of the night.

It will just be me and her.

And the some three hundred guests mother has invited. But it will be bearable, so long as I can sit next to her, talk to her, dance with her.

Yet he never said a word to you at the feast, and danced with you but once.

‘I would have danced with you all night,’ you wrote. ‘If you’d only asked.’

Oh yes, I think I will like this feast very much.

She will as well, I am sure. With every detail Mother told her as we showed her the Great Hall for the first time, she looked so happy, so excited. She is not afraid of me – she is excited to marry me!

Though she did not speak to me beyond greeting me when I arrived… Perhaps it is a fault of mine, for I do not believe I spoke to her, either. I wanted to, but again, I could not find the words.

Of course, now that I am alone, I can think of a thousand things I want to say. A thousand things I want…

After dinner, I escorted her to her new chambers. We were chaperoned, of course, by our mothers. But even with their eyes upon us, when I brought her to that door… I wanted to follow her through it.

I wanted to kiss her. I wanted to touch her. I wanted… gods, I wanted all of it.

But it is not lust.

At least, not in its entirety. I would be a damnable liar if I did not say the very sight of her – of her sparkling eyes and the glimpse of her breasts the dress she wore today granted me – had me thinking sinful, unbecoming thoughts. I admit I am grateful my jacket disguised any evidence of where my mind was as I said goodnight.

I think I said goodnight – didn’t I?

You began to blush again, but it was of a different sort of bashfulness than before. For this wasn’t innocent compliments about your beauty or your wit. It was…

As much as Aemond tried to deny it, it was lust. He lusted for you.

It was a sin. You should have been disgusted. Offended.

Yet, you weren’t.

For you would also be a ‘damnable liar’ if you tried to say you hadn’t lusted for him either. Perhaps not before the wedding, but you had certainly desired him since.

But you certainly couldn’t write that down. So instead, you wrote that he had not said goodnight. He had looked like he might, but he only nodded slightly and left.

Is it truly a sin to list after the woman who is to be my wife? Or does it remain a sin until we are actually wed? I shall have to ask Eustace on the morrow.

Still, it is not only lust. For she is not only beautiful. She is kind, sweet, intelligent, and so, so good.

I fear I may love her.

Or, at the very least, it would be very easy to love her. And harder still to not.

I do not want to love her.

To love her would be to condemn myself to a life of perpetual misery, for I know she could never love me in return.

Nor would I want her to. No one should be forced to love someone like me – someone so broken and hateful.

Perhaps it would be kinder for both of us if I called off the betrothal. I am sure Grandsire could find a way to dissolve the arrangement without causing damage to her reputation. If my own must take the blame, I would gladly do it.

Something else was written at the end of that line, but it had been so thoroughly crossed out that you could not decipher it.

I cannot. I have known her little more than a day, but I know I must have her. Not just physically, but… I need her in my life.

She is the first light I have felt in many years, and perhaps it makes me the most selfish person alive, but I simply cannot go back into the dark.

So, the day after tomorrow, I will marry her.

Tonight, I will pray that tomorrow ends quickly. Perhaps I will attempt sleeping all the way through it, and hope I dream of her.

You felt a cracking in your chest. A hurt deeper than you had ever known. And it was not only for you, but for Aemond. For both of you.

‘I need her in my life.’ And yet almost as soon as you were wed, he left you.

In those first two weeks, you only ever saw Aemond in an official capacity. Was seeing you for only a few hours every day, wherein the both of you were almost entirely silent, really enough for him?

Of course, it wasn’t. He would not have come to your chamber again that night if it was. He would not have kissed you when you lay together or touched beyond what was required by duty. He would not have approached you again and again, even when he consistently angered you or made a fool of himself.

It took him longer than you wanted to that first time, and how he did so was almost always unexpected, but…

Aemond had made a habit of leaving you, but he always came back.

The weight of that realisation and the warmth and lightness it brought to your chest could not be lifted by even the largest of dragons. So, you did not ponder it any further, nor did you write anything down. There was, at once, too many things to say and yet not enough words to express them properly.

So instead, you turned the page so hard it nearly tore.

The 11th day in the 5th moon of the year.

Today did not pass quickly.

In fact, today may have actually lasted an entire year. Or at least it felt that way. I shall have to ask the Maesters to look into it.

Gods, if I make such a pathetic excuse for a joke in front of her, she will call off the wedding herself. Humour has never been my domain. But she does so like to laugh…

I will improve, as I hope my attempts to speak to her improve with time and practice. Or perhaps I can find a book on the theories and practices of comedy in the library. Unfortunately, I doubt such a book exists for talking to one’s wife.

With a small smile, you made another entry in your journal, noting each time he had made you laugh since the moment you met. True, he was not the funniest man you had ever met – not even close. But he had made you laugh more than a handful of times.

You thought he’d like to know it.

While I cannot say that today was the worst of my life – I do not imagine any day could be so terrible to usurp that title – I struggle to identify anything good I can report.

I did not sleep at all during the night. My mind was too occupied by thoughts of my betrothed. By the things I should have said to her these past two days and how she looks when she smiles. Gods, I do not think there is much in the world I want so much as to make her smile.

Did she think of me at the same time? Did thoughts of me keep her from sleep?

You had, in fact, had trouble sleeping. Though you could not say that it was because you were thinking of Aemond. Instead, it was mostly your worries that kept you awake, wondering whether the King and Queen liked you, if your dress would fit, and dreading the possibility of your misspeaking during the wedding ceremony.

Your thoughts of Aemond were few, and they, too, were mostly worries. But, then, he had said fewer words to you than you could count on your hands, so you were all but convinced he had not liked you. The fear that he would call off the wedding had loomed over your like a stormcloud.

And it was not an unfounded fear, apparently. Although his reasons for considering doing so were far different than you would have thought.

It was not only my mind that kept me awake but… other parts of me as well. When the hour grew very late, my thoughts drifted not to the wedding itself or the feast that will follow, but to the bedding.

Mother has insisted on a private bedding and no drunken escorts, after seeing how miserable Helaena’s ceremony made her. My poor sister didn’t emerge from her chamber for days afterwards, and Aegon was no help. He was drunk for an entire week after the wedding – or at least he was when he was at the Keep, which was rarely.

At least I have that. Finally, I will be alone with her.

I must stop considering it, or my body will again react to these sinful thoughts. For they are sinful – I asked Septon Eustace, and he confirmed that such thoughts remain sinful until we are wed. So, I will try and avoid them until that time.

There was a blotch of ink next to that last paragraph, which bled into the following pages through the small hole that had been pierced through the paper. As though…

The image of Aemond stabbing his pen into his journal in frustration came to you, making you smile. You picked up your own and wrote, ‘Some craftsman worked very hard to make you such a fine journal. It is quite rude of you to treat it with such brutality.’

I did not get to see her for more than a few moments today. She was late to dinner, as were both our mothers. They had been all but consumed by the preparations for tomorrow. They mentioned flowers and streamers, music and foods, and many comments about hair, jewels, and dresses that I simply did not understand.

And her damn father seemed more than happy to indulge them, asking so many questions about each detail that I was never once able to speak with her. Why he is so interested in ladies’ things, I do not know.

Everything else that happened today is hardly worth writing about. I rose early, trained until midday, briefly met with the tailor that made my wedding clothes and sat in on court.

Now, I take comfort that this damnable day is nearly ended, and I must wait only a few hours longer until we are wed. With luck, the sleep which eluded me last night will find me tonight, and I can pass the hours remaining in sweet dreams.

You remembered how you felt at dinner the day before – when Aemond was not there. The way you had felt his absence as though it were a missing limb. He had felt that way about you after less than two full days of knowing you.

If only you had as well. It would have saved much awkwardness and pain on both sides.

There was going back now. So, you read on.

The 12th day in the 5th moon of the year.

I am wed. We are wed. I am married – to her. To my wife.

She is my wife. She will be with me now, always. But… she is not here now.

Oh gods, why did I leave her room? I should have stayed there with her, or taken her back here. Fuck!

Several sharp, scrambling lines covered the rest of the page. Not even an attempt at language – just an expression of anger.

It was almost funny to think of. While you were lying in your bed with your skirt still hiked up around your waist, wondering if that would be the rest of your life, Aemond had been at his desk striking through the journal with his pen like it was a sword.

At least he knew he had been in the wrong?

I will start at the beginning, for I will go mad if I think too long about what I have just done – and what I should have done.

Today did not go exactly as I had planned.

Sleep again did not find me this past night. I simply laid abed, my mind racing and my cock hard. I just thought of her and longed for her and prayed that the sun would finally fucking rise.

Eventually, it did.

And not a moment later, servants came to dress me. I fear I may have been quite rude to them, but I was tired, and the wedding clothes felt much tighter than they did yesterday. I was left alone then to eat my fill before the official breakfast celebration, where I would be too busy receiving the guests to actually eat. But I could not– my stomach was roiling with nerves. I barely drank any of my tea, either.

I wondered what she was doing at that moment. If she was feeling what I was.

You had vomited from your nerves. Twice.

Your mother said it was only by some miracle that your dress was spared.

But there was no chance you would tell Aemond that.

I am almost grateful that Mother insisted on following the traditions of the Reach. For if I had to wait for the ceremony at midday with no distractions… I do know if I could have endured it.

Though, I do not know how I endured the breakfast either.

Every single person in the realm with even a drop of Hightower blood was there, all of them using the wedding as an excuse to curry favour with either the King, Mother, or Lord Hobert. The same as the other guests from the Reach and the few that came from the other kingdoms.

And then there was her family. Or at least the men of her family. Her father is one thing, but she has seven brothers! Seven! Though they were all perfectly polite, I am certain that they would be happy to kill me if I ever hurt her.

If I ever did – which I swear by all the gods I would never do – I would gladly let them. I’d even ask them to take their time and make it hurt.

There was also a great number of her cousins – who would also kill me if I hurt her. I lost count of how many there were, exactly, but it is enough to make a small army. Each of them brought gifts that were clearly meant for her, even though they were presented to me.

Aegon says I should simply be happy I received so many fine gifts – including two dozen swords and even more daggers – but I cannot stand being used like that.

At least my wife – my wife, my wife, my wife – only had to endure the company of the women in her family and not so many people who are practically strangers. I hope she liked her gifts and that she enjoyed her morning. The breakfasts are not a tradition where she is from. I do hope they did not displace any of her family traditions.

You did enjoy your breakfast ceremony. It was unusual at first, and you had to rely on the Queen and distant cousin who had married into the Reach to inform you precisely what you were meant to do.

And now, you were insatiably curious about the gifts from your brothers and cousins. Aemond had not told you about them…

‘Where have you hidden my presents, you rogue?’ you wrote in your journal.

Then, at last, the ceremony.

I remember very little of it, to be completely honest. But I shall never forget how she looked, or how the midday sun lit her in gold as she finally walked through the doors of the Royal Sept.

Writing this may damn me, but I do not care. She was is more beautiful than the Maiden.

Even when she is nervous, which she undoubtedly was. She never smiled entirely, but I could see one playing at her lovely lips.

Oh, and her voice when she swore her vows! I wish I possessed some kind of magic to capture that sound in a bottle, that I may listen to it whenever I wished.

Then I kissed her.

There was another blot of ink, as though he had hovered his pen over the page so long the ink dripped.

I do not possess the words to describe what I felt then.

Rumour has claimed that my heart shrivelled and died after that night on Driftmark. If that is true, then her kiss was a miracle from the gods, for it brought that dead thing back to life – back to such life that I felt I could do anything if she only wished me to.

Even as tears of something like joy began to fall from your eyes, you laughed, remembering what your eldest brother had said about that kiss, ‘It was the most awkward thing I’ve ever seen –I had to watch all our brother’s bedding ceremonies.’

If I had my way, I would have done away with the rest of the ceremony and the feast then and there. I just wanted her, and I didn’t want to wait. But the moment I pulled away from her, Eustace started praying again, and I just had to stand there in front of dozens of people, looking at her and allow myself thoughts that, as of that moment, were no longer sinful.

Thankfully, my wedding clothes were not as tight as I thought. For if they had been, Aegon would have surely teased me for being so obviously eager for my wife – my wife, my wife, my wife.

I was so very eager – damn it all, I shouldn’t have done this either – that I only danced with her once at the feast. If I held her in my arms a moment longer, I would not have been able to resist kissing her again or dragging her away to my chambers long before it was proper.

You almost wished he had dragged you away. Although, considering how the bedding went, perhaps not.

So, I left her to the dancefloor and the many men – and Helaena – that also wanted a turn with her. I remained at the head table, not eating or talking to anyone. Not that there was anyone to talk to. Mother and Grandsire were making rounds, Aegon was chasing women, Helaena was dancing with my wife… the only one at the table with me was the King. I have nothing to say to him.

I do not know if I sat there for five minutes or five hours, but finally, Mother called for the bedding. I did not hesitate.

I actually meant to take her to my chambers, but we ended up in hers. I do not know why. Perhaps… I think I just wanted to see them. Two nights, I left her at that door, aching to go in with her.

Tonight, I did.

I don’t know what I was expecting. Something heavenly? But it was just a room, like any other. Though, I did spy two books on her table. One was a fine but worn copy of the Seven-Pointed Star. Perhaps I will commission a new one for her, bound in her favourite colour.

What is her favourite colour? She is my wife, but I do not know. I should know. I should ask.

But I don’t know if I can ever face her again.

I don’t know what I did wrong. It didn’t feel wrong. It – I’m getting ahead of myself.

When we entered her bedchamber, I froze. I was looking at her bed – where I would take her maidenhead. Where we would hopefully produce our heir. And I just froze. Froze and prayed.

I prayed for knowledge, for the Seven know I have no idea what to do with a woman. I can’t even talk to her. How am I supposed to –

A small spot of angry, squiggling lines.

When I was done praying, which I think took an embarrassingly long time, she was standing before me, her head bowed. She might have been praying, too.

I asked if she wanted my help to remove the various pins and pearls in her hair. Mother and Helaena have both complained that they become uncomfortable after a while. And I know that losing their maidenhead is already uncomfortable enough for women, so it seemed the right thing to do.

Besides, she has such pretty hair. I wanted to help her. To touch her and to run my hands through that hair.

But she said no. She did not want my help.

She was so nervous that I could see her trembling as she shook her head. I did not want to make any more so, so I did not insist further.

Nor did I want to move about her room without her express permission, for I know I would not wish a stranger to snoop around mine.

Can I be called a stranger if we are married?

I did feel the temptation to go to that table and look at the other book there. I suspect it is her diary, for there was no title on the spine, and I believe there was a thin strap holding it closed, as the pages have grown worn. It even looked as though other pages or notes had been tucked inside.

She keeps a diary, just as I do. Just as I am doing now.

Is she writing in hers as well? At the very moment?

If she is, I fear whatever she writes will not be very kind to me.

While she was removing her hairpins, she made a noise. She was trying to hide it, but it was so godsdamned quiet in that room that I could still hear her. It was soft, almost like a whimper.

That one little noise almost pushed me over the edge. Perhaps it wouldn’t have it if I hadn’t been hard for hours, but… I couldn’t wait any longer.

I had planned to remove her clothes myself. It was to be tender and romantic. But I heard that noise, and then she came back to stand beside me, and I saw her loose hair and the barest hint of her breasts, and all my plans vanished.

So, like an idiot, I told her to get on the bed. Fully clothed. And she obeyed! My sweet, innocent wife, who does not know any better, got on the bed with her fucking shoes still on!

I love her. I really do. So, so much.

That’s probably the most ridiculous thing to make me realise it, but that was it.

It wasn’t her fault anyway. I’m the one that told her to lie down. So if either of us is an idiot, it is me.

But I didn’t want her to think I was an idiot, so I didn’t undress either. Instead, I just unlaced my trousers enough to set my cock free. I stroked myself a few times to ensure I was ready – Orwyle said it would be easier if I was as hard as possible.

Then she lifted her skirts. She was undoubtedly a maiden, but her mother must have told her something, as I didn’t have to ask her to do everything. Though I did have to let her know that I needed her legs open – she had them shut tight.

When I got on the bed, I kissed her again. But it didn’t feel the same as it did in the Sept. Then, her lips were soft against mine. She pressed her lips back against mine, if only slightly.

This time, she was utterly still. Her lips were cold.

I don’t think – she didn’t want me to kiss her. Or she was afraid to, or…

Another drop of ink.

She was afraid of me.

I couldn’t look at her anymore. She isn’t supposed to fear me. She is my wife. I thought she wouldn’t look at me… like everyone else.

So I stopped trying to make it romantic. I just did my duty.

But the female anatomy is more complex than I had assumed. I looked at her – I do not know a polite word for it – and I admit I was unsure how to proceed. When I was with that wh other woman –

What fucking ‘other woman?’

You felt your face heating with rage as you read the beginning of that sentence over and over. The idea that Aemond – your husband – had been with another woman and was thinking about her after your wedding night was infuriating beyond belief.

Even after he insinuated you were unintelligent, or insulted your beloved robe, or walked away from you again and again, you had never been this angry.

You had more than half a mind to toss the godsdamned diary in the fire, storm into his rooms, yell at him a good deal, and demand answers from him directly. But when you stood and approached the hearth, you could not do it.

Aemond had trusted you with his diary, including this. He had marked this entry specifically as one he wanted you to read. Perhaps he simply hadn’t remembered what he wrote – no. He was too meticulous, this man who had started his diary precisely on the first day of the year.

He knew exactly what he wrote and wanted you to read it anyway.

So, after sitting back on the couch, you did.

When I was with that wh other woman, I did not look at her. Not there. I did not want to. But I regret that now.

I reached out to feel her, to try and find – I don’t know if it’s the whole thing, inside and out, that is the ‘cunt,’ or if it is just the hole – to try and find her entrance. That’s a better word.

She didn’t like it. She pulled away from me.

I thought it might be because my hands were cold, but I have never felt cold, so I warmed them before continuing. Which she did let me do! We actually apologised to each other at the same time. It was almost sweet. Or it would have been if I wasn’t such a fucking idiot.

I tried to go slow when entering her. I really thought I had gone slow. It certainly felt slow.

When I was all the way inside her, it felt like – she felt like…

Several drops of ink.

Warm. She was warm, like sitting only a few feet away from a fire.

And soft, softer than anything I’ve ever felt before.

I don’t know how to describe how – her tightness. Not so much that it was difficult to enter her. I didn’t have to force my way in. I never would. Yes, there was some resistance at first, but after a moment, it was just right. Perfect, even.

How could she be so different from the whore? When Aegon brought me the Street of Silk and presented me with a line of women he had selected himself, he said it didn’t matter which one I picked. ‘A cunt is a cunt,’ he said. ‘You must simply choose which drapes you prefer.’

They are not the same.

Is it just because I love her? Because I actually wanted her, as I didn’t want the whore?

You didn’t think any sentence containing the word ‘whore’ could you make you smile. This one did. According to Aemond, you were better than a whore – you were perfect.

And he loved you.

He hadn’t been cold and distant that night because he didn’t want to lie with you, but because he wanted to so badly that he forgot his senses.

As your smile grew, you buried your face in the diary, grounding yourself in the smell of parchment and dried ink.

A few moments ago, you were ready to storm into Aemond’s chamber and unleash your anger upon him. Now, he once again had you giggling like a silly little girl. What power did he hold over you that allowed merely his words to have such an effect on you?

One word floated through your mind like a leaf on a breeze. A dangerous word, one which frightened you far too much to give voice to. Even if only in your mind.

Instead, you swallowed it and laid the diary back on your lap.

I thought that feeling… that she might feel it too. The euphoria that came with release meant that – that it meant something. That maybe I was mistaken when I thought she was afraid of me.

But when I went to kiss her again, she did not look as happy as I felt. She still looked afraid. Afraid and confused, like she was expecting more. Like I was not enough.

I shouldn’t have done it, but I couldn’t face that look and what it meant. I can’t live in a world where she fears me. Where she does not want me as I want her.

I said that this marriage would only be a political arrangement, but I don’t want that anymore. I want more. I need more.

So, I left. I just… left.

If I were a man, I would go back there now. I would apologise and tell her that I loved her. That she is the most beautiful creature in the world and that I will do anything to make her happy.

But I am here, writing in this stupid fucking diary because I am too much a coward to face her.

I can’t just avoid her forever. She is my wife. I must see her again.

Thank the gods that we are not being sent on a royal progress. Not until we know for sure that the summer will last the year. But I will still see her. Tomorrow. She will be at court, at my side as my wife. And at dinner with the rest of the family.

Gods, what am I going to do?

Another stab in the page, this one not as fierce as the last.

I need help.

I’m sure Aegon is still at the feast if he hasn’t…

Not tonight. I am two days without rest, and I do not think I can restrain myself if Aegon makes untoward comments about her.

Tomorrow, I will ask for help. I have no other option.

I must see her smile again.

You ran your hand over the page, over the words that broke your heart again and again. As if in response, the pain in your stomach started once more. You reached for your teacup, only to find it empty.

Aemond’s diary fell from your lap as you sat up and leaned across the table to reach the teapot. It, too, was empty. “Damn,” you whispered.

Another pain came, accompanied by a sharp pang of hunger. Looking over to the window, you found the sun more than halfway across the sky. Had you really been reading for so long?

You wanted nothing more than to keep reading, but you knew hunger would only worsen the pain of your moon’s blood and possibly make you more likely to do something foolish, like go to Aemond before you had finished the diary.

So, you picked the journal up from the floor, marking your place with one of the green ribbons you had set aside, and stood.

Aemond’s words – his truths – would still be there after you ate and drank and perhaps called the Maester for something to ease your pain. For now, you would take some much-needed time to think through all you had read. All you had learned.

And you would write. While reading, you too often became caught in his words and neglected your own.

Aemond gave you his truth, so you would give him yours.

But after more raspberry tea. And a meat pie. And some tea cakes.

After all, he made you wait. Now it was his turn.

1K notes · View notes

chaoticbardlady99 · 10 months

Note

Hello! I really enjoyed your fic with the Tav who couldn’t see well. It was really sweet! If you’re still accepting requests, may I request a similar one where the reader needs glasses to see and during a battle they break or get lost. Now they can’t see well and they’re trying not to panic while there’s threats everywhere, but thankfully Astarion notices something’s wrong and helps them. Thank you!

Admiring from Afar (GN! AFAB Reader x Astarion) Part 1- MDNI 18+ ONLY

Part Title is inspired by the song “She” by Dodie (I feel like it reflects Astarion’s POV/feelings towards Tav in this story)

This was not originally supposed to be as long as it is, but the concept started taking on a life of it's own. I hope you enjoy! I will hopefully be positing Part 2 within the next few days!

CW: Angst (?), violence, jealousy, fluffy (hopefully very? But who knows), smut because apparently I’m in a giving mood (I’m sorry I had to make the joke.), MDNI 18+ only, dom/sub sexual relationship.

Note- this is Unascended Astarion x GN! reader

*This has been proof read one time. It is 2:04 am and I have work in 6 hours LMFAO

Gif belongs to- ibacchante from Tumblr!

The campfire crackles in the distance and you think you even hear the faint sound of music. You desperately yearn to be near the warmth of the fire talking to or watching one of your companions give a dramatic retelling of their experiences in battle.

The warmth of your companions made places like the Shadow-Curse Land feel a lot less scary and foreign- they provide some normalcy in this strange journey.

Unfortunately, you are hunched over in your cold tent with nothing but a light cantrip and your will power. You squint as you etch details into the oxen bone, taking the time to add the touches of silvery white dye to add an ethereal effect. Your hands cramp as you work to keep the paint within the designs you carved into the bone.

You have been painstakingly working on this necklace for a little over a month- maybe two? You have lost count at this point, but the calluses on your fingers tell you it’s been a while now since you started this project.

You polish the bone with your cloth, wiping away the debris from your knife. You admire your handiwork; a perfect carving of the Elven Rune- Cadaith. You were able to create a loop at the top of the necklace for the long, thin, black leather strip you had been holding onto since the day after the Tiefling party- the same day you decided to take on this hand numbing project.

You and your crew of oddballs had come through for the locals and obliterated the Goblin Camp Leaders- the tieflings had come to your camp and had decided to celebrate.

It wasn’t that you were opposed to parties, but you’re not the most social person despite your profession as an Artisan. You miss the calm, quiet group of Druids you used to travel with- you even miss the hardwood floor of the Caravans and how much of a pain in the ass they were to fix. You miss not having to spend every waking moment and all of your strength on battling and the art of deception. You miss your tools and the landscapes you use to find your resources. You love to make crafts out of anything in the wild.

Back to the rowdy tiefling party- again, you aren’t necessarily against parties, but they are overwhelming.

And the men! They are entirely too vulgar after a couple drinks. Silvanus help you if you had another drunk man stumble up to you and ask if he can, “fuck your brains out.”

Another man had begun to make his way towards you when you felt a cold hand grab you by the elbow and haul you off into the forest. It had been Astarion- who you had agreed to share a bed with that night. You had shared a bed before- after a camp party to celebrate killing Auntie Ethel, but nothing could have prepared you for the second time and how mind-blowing it would be (you had been excruciatingly awkward as it was your first time ever- he was pretty understanding thank Gods).

“Astarion-”

“Yes Darling?”

He stops and looks at you- you look around and realize you are far from camp. You fiddle with your hands nervously- picking at your nails.

“I um-” you clear your throat, “I really appreciate you- well- um… coming to my rescue, but I really don’t want to be a bother to you- you don’t need to stay wit-”

You hadn’t been able to finish your sentence before he was gently kissing you. Your body feels like it’s on fire, your glasses are entirely foggy from your breathing and you smile at him coyly as he pulls away. He gives you a genuine, real laugh before taking your glasses off and wiping them clean for you. You put them on, your eyes back in focus as you avoid his eyes.

He leans in and begins kissing along your neck, along your jawline, and back to your lips. He kisses you roughly, his tongue flicking across your lower lip, asking for access. He lifts you up from under your thighs before backing you into a tree.

He grinds up into you- his erection pressed against the burning heat in your core. He pulls at your shirt strings and gives you a look as if to ask if he can continue. You grab his face in your hands and kiss him as an answer to his question.

He discards your shirt and makes quick work of your trousers and under garments- all while kissing you so deeply the world is spinning and your entire body feels numb.

Suddenly he has you on your back as he smiles down at you mischievously. You look away, embarrassed as he takes in the sight of your body; a breathy chuckle leaves his lips as he gets up and makes quick work of his own clothes.

You feel the space between your legs grow warmer and needier as you watch him stroke himself before he settles himself between your legs. He presses soft kisses all over your face as he inserts a finger between your folds and begins to toy with your clit. You whimper and moan as he pumps his finger in and out of you.

“Good girl,” he growls into your ear and inserts another finger, picking up the pace.

A soft, gasp escapes your lips as your walls stretch to fit around his other finger- getting to the point of borderline tears as you feel your orgasm get closer and closer. Astarion watches you use a stream of profanities, your hands gripping the grass so hard it's ripping. He kisses you on your forehead then- he stops.

You keen in protest from the emptiness between your thighs, but your words die on your lips as he pushes himself all the way between your folds, all the way to the hilt. You claw at his back, a pleased whimper escaping your mouth. He begins to kiss your jaw before you capture his lips with yours- he’s still not moving inside of you as you kiss him feverishly- your hands entangling themselves in his hair. He groans against your lips, holding you down by your waist and not allowing you to move. When you attempt to move your hips upward, desperate to get some friction, he groans in your mouth before pulling out completely and then thrusting himself roughly back into you. You look at him in anticipation as he gets off of you, still inside you as he adjusts your left leg so that he can get more access and he begins to massage your sore, neglected nipples with his fingers.

You are desperate for any movement from him and you can tell he knows it- even in your drunken haze.

“Please.”

“Please what, my dear?”

He says before pulling out to thrust into you completely again. You cry out, tears streaming down your face as you look away from him, trying not to let him have the satisfaction..

He hums as he roughly grabs your jaw, making you look him in the eyes.

“Tell me, Darling,” a sly, teasing smile on his beautiful face, “do you want me to fuck your brains out?”

You nod and he pinches your nipples roughly- you arch your back and you feel him lift your hips up before spanking you hard.

"You don't get anything until you answer my question," he goads, his hand snaking it's way around your throat, "so tell me, do you want me to fuck your brains out?"

"Y-es. Yes I want you to fuck me ple-" he cuts you off with a snap of his hips.

He grabs your jaw roughly with his hands, "You know that's not what I asked you."

He begins to slowly move in and out of you, teasing you mercilessly. You groan in frustration- he knows he’s the only person who can say this to you and demand you to say it back to him.

"Please Astarion," you say tearfully, your need for pleasure taking over, "please fuck my brains out."

He smiles at you widely, "it would be my pleasure."

You whine and he pulls out of you, rolling you over onto your hands and knees. He comes up behind you and his hands find purchase in your hair as he begins to pound into your mercilessly. You lose yourself in pleasure- surely alerting everyone and their mothers to your activites- and if it's not the vulgar moans, it's the filthy sound of your bodies colliding.

He pulls you up to his chest by your hair, switching to putting his hand around the upper part of your throat, and puts his fangs to your neck, teasing the skin as he fucks up into you. You have one of your hands wrapped around his arm as he chokes you and the other is touching your clit- the coil of pleasure building up in your stomach as you whisper your consent between moans for Astarion to drink from you. He gives you a pleased hum in response.

The moment his fangs are piercing your neck is the same moment your orgasm rips through you and you have to fight not to slump against him. You feel his strong arms hold you up as he keeps fucking your sensitive mound, chasing his own orgasm. He stops sucking from the bite marks on your neck, lapping up the blood that begins to slowly trickle down towards your shoulders and chest. He let’s go of his grip on your throat and pushes you back onto your belly before roughly inserting himself inside you again.

"You are such a good girl," he grunts, "you are taking me so fucking well."

You begin to feel lightheaded when he finally cums inside you. Good thing you have a potion for that.

You both get your clothes on and he whisks you away to his tent- where you cuddled and talked for almost the entire night.

The sex, as noted, is amazing, but you also enjoy so much more of him than just his body. You know Astarion struggles to believe you find anything about him interesting outside of sex, so you make a point of reminding him about all the other wonderful parts of him and you don't ever ask for sex or sexual favors. That ball is in his playing field as far as you are concerned.

You find yourself gravitating back to Astarion’s tent every night to listen about a new book he is reading or just to let him shower you with (arguably) questionable knowledge about the higher ups in Badlur's Gate . Sometimes you just talk about your lives, tangled in each other’s embraces, and falling asleep that way.

You had begun sleeping in the same tent shortly after he drank from you for the first time. You had been scared during a storm one night and he had heard you sniffling in your tent. You missed the safety of your Caravan during those first two weeks.

He had quickly dragged you over to his tent- griping about his hair, how “I told you that you needed better camping equipment”, and “really darling? Why are you wearing clothes with holes in them? No wonder you’re scared.”

You have had an incredibly close bond ever since and you speak very freely with one another. You still become closed off every now and then (mostly from being socially and emotionally exhausted) but he was content to sit in the silence and just be in each other’s company. If he's in a grouchy mood, you sit with him in silence or let him just talk at you, and you support him when he wakes up from a particularly grueling nightmare. You rarely, if ever, go to your tent or stay in your tent anymore.

However, your current passion project was not to be seen by his eyes until it was completely finished- hence the reason why you are in your freezing, semi abandoned tent. You enchant the amulet with “Invisibility” and after a test, you can proudly say your necklace for Astarion is ready.

Shortly after the fight with the Goblins, Astarion had been complaining to you about how Gale “ate” the last necklace of Invisibility that they had found.

“He did call finders-keepers.”

“Finders-keepers my ass, Darling. If he really believed that rule he wouldn’t have inhaled it the way he did right after finding it.”

“It was rather unbecoming of him, wasn’t it?”

“Cazador has done a lot of horrible, vile things to me over the last two centuries,” he scoffs, “but, Gale eating a perfectly good Amulet of Invisibility has somehow landed in the top 20 of worst things to happen to me.”

After that, you began your work on the Amulet and now that it’s finished- you get to give it to him.

The idea makes your stomach turn.

What if he hates it?

It’s not really his style, but you don’t make gaudy jewelry and you tried your best to make it look like it shimmers (you succeeded FYI, Nat 20 all the way). You hope he appreciates it on principle alone and doesn’t criticize you too harshly if he dislikes it. When you ran the idea by Karlach and showed her your sketch, she was immediately convinced that he would adore your gift.

“Don’t worry about a thing Soldier,” she said cheerily, “Fangs is going to adore it as much as he adores you!”

You wrap the necklace in the nice, silk handkerchief and stuff it into the little leather bag. You take one final deep breath before pushing through the tent flap. You look around camp and see that mostly everyone is in their tent- Astarion included- but Wyll is by the fire dancing. You remember joking about him giving a demonstration for the camp. As you begin to walk towards Astarion’s tent- Wyll calls out to you.

“Tav,” he says brightly, “join me for a dance?”

Another thing you love about Astarion- he is very good at telling people ‘no’ for you. Yes, you should be sticking up for yourself and setting boundaries on your own. You are so wired to make everyone else happy that it impedes your ability to say no. Astarion is helping you learn and supports you when you freeze up, but Astarion is not here in this moment and if he hears what Wyll has said to you- he has made no indication of it.

You smile tightly and put the pouch in your pocket before taking his hand. You are basically robotic as you go through the motions and yet- for some Gods forsaken reason Wyll plants a kiss right on your lips. As he pulls back and sees your look of absolute horror- he begins to apologize profusely.

“Honestly Wyll,” you awkwardly squeak out,”it’s totally fine. I just- um- well… I really like Astarion and I’m not looking elsewhere.”

“I understand and as disappointed as I am- I am grateful for your forgiveness and I hope we can remain friends.”

You smile brightly, “Thank you Wyll and of course. Good night.”

He bids you farewell and you walk with extra pep in your step. You set a boundary and you are over the moon excited to share with Astarion.

Except when you get inside the tent- all of your stuff is right in the entryway. Astarion has his back facing you and is pretending to be interested in a book. You frown.

“Star?”

“Oh don’t worry Darling- I figured I would save you the uncomfortable conversation,” he says with apathy in his voice, “we both know those aren’t your strong suite.”

You flinch at his cold, blank tone and the harshness of his words. You feel yourself becoming consumed with confusion and hurt. Your hand is clutching onto the pouch in your pocket. He looks at you and he looks far away despite the smile on his face.

“Well go along now, I’m sure your new lover is waiting for you. I’m happy for you honestly,” he pauses, giving you a cold, malicious grin, “pretending to be invested in this connection has really been bothersome these last couple weeks.”

Logically, a part of you knows he is just jealous and is lashing out. You should stay and try to explain what happened- reassure him even?

Emotionally? You feel like you just got stabbed over and over again. Oh and then someone came up to you and used a shocking grasp. You try to open your mouth, the tears welling in your eyes as you look at him.

He just looks at you coldly, “Well, leave.”

You wordlessly nod, dropping the leather pouch back into your pocket and you grab your things and numbly head back over to your tent. You roll out your bed roll and stare up at the dark tarp above your head; you let the tears stream down your face as silent sobs wrack your body. You already miss him.

_________________________________________________

You didn’t sleep well that night- you woke up with puffy eyes and a sore throat. You had spent the majority of the night freezing and jumping at every noise. You would get the occasional thirty minutes of sleep here and there, but if you weren’t scared awake, your bruised, broken heart woke you up. Your heart thumped unevenly all night- worried the bumps in the night were Astarion packing up his things and leaving.

Your chest aches as you get ready to leave and you are grateful that the Shadow-Cursed Lands are so poorly lit because it allows you to hide the rough night you have. You are also grateful to see Astarion is still here.

You, Astarion, Shadowheart, Karlach, and Wyll set out to explore more of the Shadowlands. Karlach told Astarion he didn’t have to go if he didn’t want to- you were too tired to say anything in response to his complaints and you suppose Karlach became fed up. He’s quiet after that, so quiet you think he might have left. Except you hear him chatting with Wyll during a short rest.

Shadowheart walks happily next to you- chittering about Dark Justiciars and how she can feel Shar or whatever. You are just trying to focus on her and stop thinking about him. You have been successful in avoiding him and not looking at him for the entirety of the morning and you need to keep it that way.

_________________________________________________

Astarion can’t place where in the conversation he went wrong, but the fight with Malus Thorm has been nothing short of a disaster. The Sisters are ruthless and Malus is much stronger than any of them anticipated at first glance.

Astarion usually fights right at your side, but he assumes that your new lover will be keeping you safe. He suppresses the bile and tears that threaten to come up. He has your protection still and he knows that because Wyll would have thrown him out of camp otherwise. He was never meant to end up with you- you were always meant to be a means to an end.

If anything, he should be thrilled for you. Wyll is a good, decent man and much worthier of your affections than Astarion could ever be.

So why does it hurt so fucking much? And why did he want to kick Wyll over a ravine when he kissed you?

He shakes the thought as he strikes down two more Sisters. He steals a glance in Wyll’s direction (to check on you) and immediately notices that you are nowhere in the premises and the Blade of Frontiers was battling with Karlach. Astarion scans the room in a frenzy of panic.

He turns around just in time to see Malus lift you up by your neck and fling you into a column. Your glasses fell to the ground as your back makes contact with the stone and the sound of shattering bones echoes through the room as the Sisters begin to move forward.

Astarion watches in horror as you are struggling to pop up and begin touching the floor around you , but by the time you seem to realize finding your glasses is a moot effort- the Sisters descend on you as Malus turns his attention to Wyll and Karlach.

Wyll acknowledges what just happened, but doesn’t go to help you. Anger rips through Astarion like a wildfire as Wyll turns and tells Shadowheart you need help. He’s about to help Malus take out Wyll- until another scream for help pierces the air as you throw random cantrips at your attackers.

Astarion rushes forward, cutting his way through the remaining Sisters in the middle of the room. He really could give a shit less at this time if it pisses Wyll off that he was the one who protected you- in fact, he’s probably going to be stabbing Wyll when you all get back to camp.

Astarion destroys the Sisters surrounding you in a flurry of gore and steel. He ignores his other companions as he searches for you frantically.

You had disappeared by the time he came to your aid. Astarion knows that you have a tendency to slip into your Cat form when you are particularly scared and can’t see- using the animal’s powerful nose to guide you away from danger.

Astarion goes near the beds and crouches down- a sigh escaping his lips.

All 8 pounds of you and your black fluff is crouched under the bed and you hiss in surprise when he clicks his tongue at you. You squint your eyes at him before sniffing the air. You cautiously walk forward and sniff his outreached hand. You begin to purr loudly and rub your head against his knuckles.

He laughs with a mix of hysteria and joy as the realization that you are okay settles into his bones.

“It’s okay Little Love, the Sisters are dead,” he says softly, “I’m so sorry, I should have been next to you. I just assumed a beast with such prowess as yourself would be able to fend for themselves.”

You meow in indignation as you climb on top of him to bite the tip of his nose and he can’t help but laugh.

“Does your ego hurt less now, Little Love?”

You give him an amused look that makes him bust out laughing again.

He had asked you once why you were just a Black domestic cat instead of a Panther. You had argued that you are just as ferocious as a Panther in that form. Not to mention, you would have a better chance of shooting an arrow straight than turning into a Panther, but you weren’t about to admit that (even though he knows).

Astarion scoops you up in his arms and pauses- the smell of your blood floods his senses. He grabs you by your scruff and you yelp as he inspects you for injuries.

You scratch at his hand and he drops you. You yowl in pain and leer at him as you begin to change back into your humanoid form.

If Astarion was capable of feinting, this would have been that moment. He drops to his knees beside you and begins trying to find a healing potion to take the edge off.

You have a compound fracture where your shin was and it’s bleeding heavily. Your right shoulder is out of place, your left wrist is twisted in an atypical fashion, and your left cheek is blooming with an angry, purple bruise. He winces when you inhale a sharp breath as you try to breathe in, clutching at your rib cage.

He doesn’t catch the choked gasp that climbs up his throat in time- your eyes search for him in the dark before finally settling on him.

“Your beautiful eyes are really helpful when it’s blurry.”

Your voice is so tired and he can hear the pain in your voice.

“How come?”

“I can actually find you,” you pause, “you make me feel safe.”

You look at him, your eyes glassy with shock. You smile brightly at him and he smiles brightly back at you. He never thought anyone would associate him with protection, safety. Your words echo in his brain.

You’re make me feel safe.

You go to say something again before you look at him with wide, scared eyes and promptly lose consciousness. The scream that comes out of his mouth is foreign to his own ears. It sounds fearful, angry- heartbroken. Astarion tries to shake you awake, yelling your name over and over.

“Please wake up Darling- you’re safe,” he whispers through choked sobs, “come back to me please.”

Nothing. He can barely tell if you are breathing still as your heart thuds softly in your chest. He calls for Shadowheart two, three, four more times.

"Please," he whimpers, "I don't want to have to be without you forever- I can't be."

The weight of his words hits him like a train- his plan had well and truly failed. Under normal, non- life threatening emergency situations, he would probably panic about the strength of his emotions. Instead, he sits here begging for the chance to be able to tell you how he really feels. He wants to move so badly, to drag Shadowheart over here to heal you, but he can't bare to leave you in your vulnerable state. He keeps calling for Shadowheart- his voice begins to crack.

Astarion feels the worst of his anxieties vanish as you suddenly start taking long, ragged, tired breaths. He grabs a healing potion out of his pocket and tilts your head as he pours it into your mouth. You swallow the fluid gingerly. Your eyes are barely open when he hears you communicate through the tadpole.

Thank you for saving me. Again.

Astarion slowly strokes the side of your face, brushing the flyaway hairs out of your eyes.

"I saved you for my own selfish reasons," he whispers, while taking your right hand gently, "close your eyes and rest- I will keep you safe. Shadowheart is coming."

You nod lazily before closing your eyes, your hand in his still. Astarion sighs in relief when your breathing gets stronger, but he is no healer. Where the hells is that damn Cleric!?

“Shadowheart!!!!”

#baldurs gate 3 #astarion #astarion x reader #baldurs gate astarion #astarion romance #astarion x tav #bg3 spoilers #astarion x you #bg3 #karlach #smut #shameless smut actually #astarion acunin #bg3 tav

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hannieehaee · 5 months

Text

SERENDIPITY (teaser)

18+ / mdi

content: cupid!jungkook, psyche!reader, an extremely simplified and smutty version of the og story, afab reader, side character deaths, mentions of attempted suicide, the dialogue is not super fitting of the times, angst(?), fluff, smut, they have sex where she doesnt know who he is multiple times but its consensual, penetrative sex, oral (f receiving), etc.

(^ no actual content warnings in the teaser)

wc: 841 (teaser); 8.6k (full fic)

release date: may 3rd

or you can check it out on my ko-fi or patreon today by subscribing to either one!

a/n: i decided to do my first jungkook full fic in celebration for hitting 4k followers!! i hope u guys enjoy<3

masterlist | kofi/patreon

support me through a one time tip<3

"Why did you call for me, again?"

"What? Why? I thought you didn't like me meddling with people's love lives."

"Okay, so you want me to doom her to an eternity with a monster?", Jungkook tilted his head in curiosity.

Venus halted her movements in frustration, scaring the servants nearby before turning to Jungkook in annoyance, "Cupid, my son, you will obey my order without question. I gave you those wings, I gave you that bow., and I gave you that arrow. I don't care how cruel you may think me to be, this is an order. You shall not utilize your powers for your own endeavors until you finish your task," she demanded, "Now, go rid me of that wench before I find someone else to do the job."

...

please reply if u would like to be tagged when the fic is released!!

OR read today on ko-fi or patreon by subscribing to either one<3

#bts fanfic #bts smut #bts x reader #bts scenario #jungkook scenario #jungkook smut #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x reader #jungkook imagine

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eli0004 · 6 months

Note

Okay. So I loved loved loved your relationship HC canons. They were so well written and I loved him❤

But can I also request Levi falling in love HCs? Like I can imagine him being in love but for the love of God I can not imagine how he would fall in love with someone. Like what certain characteristics would he like? Bold? Calm? Sunshine? Introverted? And how will he be attracted to them? Would it be easy for him to accept his feelings or will he be in denial?

Like please please please.... I love the way you write Levi. So please.

-🌼

Absolutely! I love this topic actually, it’s something I’ve thought a lot about! 🖤 I hope you enjoy!

Genre: Fluff

Summary: How does Levi Ackerman fall in love, and what is his ideal type?

Warnings: None, maybe some talk of insecurity?

Levi is a December Capricorn. December Caps are known for being highly emotional, but struggling with emotional expression. They’re also usually very uptight and disciplined, and tend to take a practical approach when dealing with situations as opposed to flying by the seat of their pants. Obviously these traits are pretty accurate to Levi’s character. A Capricorn’s most ideal match are typically Taurus or Virgos. Commonly known Tausus/Virgo traits are passion, stubbornness, dependability, logic and communication.

Now, obviously you don’t have to be a Taurus or Virgo to be loved by Levi, but think with that in mind, Levi would do best with someone who is very strong willed and independent. He’s not the type of guy who wants to be with someone he has to keep his eye on. Emotional maturity and practical thinking are very important traits to him when looking for a partner, and someone who can communicate well is very attractive to him, since he has a harder time putting his feelings into words.

He likes someone who is genuine, trustworthy and dependable. Someone who has a strong sense of justice and empathy, who defends and advocates for others when they are unable to defend themselves.

I think he likes a good mix of pessimism and optimism. He’s a pessimist himself, so if you’re too optimistic it may irritate him rather than help, he prefers someone who is more of a realist. Someone who doesn’t enable his negativity, but who helps him to think rationally instead.

Like i said before, i think Levi is a deeply emotional person. If you’re only looking surface level, it wouldn’t be obvious, but when you breakdown a lot of his character traits in the show itself, it’s pretty clear that he tends to be swayed by his emotions. I think he would know immediately when he falls in love.

He’s the type of guy who’s always in his head, he thinks a lot, visiting the past, pondering the future. When he starts to catch his pondering turning into fantasizing about a life with you, doing domestic things, and being cozy together, that’s when it hits him.

But I think he’s also deeply insecure, not so much about his looks, but his personality. His ability to love again after having lost so many people. Whether or not you deserve someone better. He’s used to being misread as unapproachable or mean, so somewhere along the way, i think he might have begun to believe those things.

I think it would mean a lot to him if you just treated him like a normal person. Not humanities strongest, not mean or unapproachable, or someone to be pitied for his struggles. Just let him be Levi, and praise him for who he is in his soul.

All that said, i don’t think he would be the one to make a move 💀 because he’s so in his head, i think he’d be too worried that he’s misread the situation and that you don’t see him that way, perhaps you’re just being nice. He’s extremely oblivious to flirting.

But if you catch on first and decide to shoot your shot, he will be absolutely flabbergasted. He’s looking over his shoulder like “do you mean- are you talking to me?” Before that moment, he’s mostly convinced that he’ll be pining in silence for the rest of your lives.

Levi blushes. A lot. He’s very pale in complexion, so the smallest bit of flirting or teasing has heat spreading over his face, and it’s painfully obvious.

So when you’ve got him face to face, telling him how you feel about him, he may not be able to respond in beautiful poetic words, but his body language is enough to tell you how he feels.

He won’t make eye contact, he’s all red faced and bouncing his leg and gripping his teacup with so much force, you’d think it was going to crumble. And oh- what’s that? An ever-so- subtle, happy little grin; completely involuntary, he couldn’t stop it even if he tried. He feels boyish and vulnerable, but it’s strangely nice.

Your relationship with Levi is not a secret, but it is private. He values your time together, as it helps him to decompress. He all but melts in your embrace after a particularly hard day, and It’s crucial that you respect his desire for privacy, the level of raw emotion and vulnerability with these new experiences is something that he’s entrusted you with and that means everything to him.

And on the subject of new experiences, the more you handle him with care and allow him to process his feelings without judgment, the less he’ll worry about not being good enough, and you’ll find that he’s a very good and attentive lover.

Even still, you’ll find from time to time that reassurance is something Levi needs like he needs air to breathe, and this can come in the form of many things, like remembering little details about the things he loves, taking care of some of his responsibilities when he’s feeling overwhelmed, quiet touches when he lacks the energy to speak.

Having someone who sees him for who he is and loves all his broken pieces is what Levi finds comfort in while he’s nestled in your arms at night, and he wouldn’t trade it for the world.

#attack on titan #aot #aot x reader #aot headcanons #aot x y/n #levi ackerman #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman headcanons #levi headcanons #levi x reader #levi aot #snk levi #levi attack on titan

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woongisi · 9 months

Text

Brand New God // Choi Jongho

sub!Choi Jongho x dom!fem!reader // SMUT

WC// 3.2k

Synopsis// Jongho was the perfect son in the eyes of the church. It was your mission to change that. Opportunity comes once he consumes you with a particularly sinful confession.

Warnings// blasphemy, corruption, angst for a bit, oral (male receiving), no protection (pls use it even for oral), improper use of confessional booths, dacryphilia if you squint

Author's Note// This has been a long time in the making. Hope my other religious trauma mfs enjoy it as much as I do. Title is an iDKHOW reference. ☺︎♡

---------

Jongho wasn't the preacher's son, but he may as well have been. Never late to mass, always helping the elders, scolding the children, the whole lot of it. Sung in the choir. Formerly an altar boy. The envy of every parent's eye.

He was always excited to see you even if he had to preface his greeting by asking why you missed mass yet again. Despite his general duties and all he was never much of an extrovert. You always felt the air of awkwardness that hung around him when he approached you. If anything gave away that he was happy to see you… it was his glossy eyes and trembling smile that he tried so hard to suppress.

Being the son every parent wanted had its perks but many downfalls in the end. Most of the other people your age had largely abandoned the strictness of their faiths. Many still kept their beliefs but no longer felt such pressure to be perfect. In turn, they tended to find Jongho annoying.

You, however? Something about him was cute. Just how nervous he was to speak to you. The deep blush that he tried to hide whenever he told you that you looked pretty. You told yourself you only really went to church out of obligation, but now you'd begun to think you were there for him more than anything. You knew he was perfect. You knew almost for a fact that he'd never touched anyone else or even himself. You'd love to ruin him but at the same time you'd accepted you'd never get to.

Right?

Something about today was different. Jongho's face was red the second he saw you, red before he'd so much as stood up to greet you.

“Miss! You look pretty as always.” He piped up and almost immediately turned to skitter away. Only stopping once you grabbed the sleeve of his shirt.

“Thank you, Jongho. Always the gentleman. You look quite handsome today yourself.” You smiled and ruffled his hair a bit. “You seem nervous. Are you alright? Are you sick?”

“N-no I’m ok!” Jongho avoided your gaze like his life depended on it. “Lying is a sin, Jongho, lying is a sin.” He whispered under his breath.

“What was that?”

“Ok, look! Can… Can I ask you something?”

“Anything you want, sweetheart.”

Jongho swore he'd just passed on. There was no way. No girl his age had ever called him that before… only the little old ladies.

“You- What- Ok, ok come on just follow me, alright?”

Jongho led you back to the confession booths. They were somewhat secluded, given the nature of their use. Standing with your back pressed against the wall, Jongho couldn't even hold eye contact as he stood sheepishly in front of you.

“I- Last night-” Jongho huffed and hid his face. “Stop looking at me like that!”

“Like what?” You smirked. “I'm not here to judge. It's just kinda cute seeing you so nervous.”

“Cute…? Anyway! Gosh! Last night I…” One glance at the low hem of your shirt had shut him down. “Never mind. It's ok! I don't wanna talk about it anymore.”

“Get in the goddamn booth.”

“W-What? First, don't use the Lord’s name in vain. Second… what?”

“Just pretend I'm the priest, k? You wouldn't lie to me, would you, Jongho?”

“This feels wrong, but… fine.”

Jongho sat in the booth and closed the curtains with trembling hands. He'd sat in this exact spot so many times and confessed to so many little sins. Little white lies, things that weren't even necessarily sins that he simply felt guilt for. This time he couldn't shake the anxiety.

Situated on the other half, you slid the small wooden door to the side to reveal the rectangular screen that kept you both apart.

“Right. Now tell me what's got you so bothered?”

Shame devoured Jongho from head to toe. He couldn't even believe he was sitting here letting you play priest. Why the hell was he doing this? Couldn't he just tell the actual priest when it was time for confession?

“Well, last night I had a dream.”

His voice has gotten low. You could tell he was trying hard not to stutter and could almost picture his eyebrows furrowed as he picked at his nails.

“I had a dream about a girl.”

“Mhm? What's odd about that?”

“She…” Jongho sighed. “She was touching me.”

“Like a hug?” You caught on to the fact it wasn't anything innocent in an instant but took any chance you could to hear Jongho confess. This was a once-in-a-lifetime experience after all.

“N-No. She was on her knees, she was dragging her nails along my thighs.”

“Ah, those thick thighs of yours? I see.”

Jongho chose to ignore that charged comment.

“She leaned down and put her mouth on my- uh- privates. And… why am I telling you this?!”

“Just relax. Let it out.”

“Ok…” The memories from the night before raced through the boy's brain. He felt like he might faint. “She bobbed her head up and down. Told me I looked handsome. Looked up at me with those shining eyes… didn't stop until I… you know.”

Jongho had slumped against the backboard of the booth, evident by the creaking. His hands nervously fidgeted with the hem of his striped wool sweater.

“She was just so beautiful, y/n… she looked like a dream.” A moment’s silence. “I mean I guess she was a dream. I just feel so filthy. I've never had a dream about that. I've never thought about someone like that. I've never even-”

You cut his rambling off. “Kissed someone? Touched yourself?”

“Both of those…” he murmured. “The worst thing about the dream is that we weren't married.”

“Jongho?”

“Yeah?”

“Was this girl me?”

“Yeah…” Jongho’s head hit the wall with a light thud.

The next thing he heard was shuffling, the cracks of old wood, and the curtain being shoved to the side.

“W-wait! I'm sorry… just… don't go.” He shot to sit straight up. “Forget what I said. Please, you're my only real friend.”

You swore you heard his voice crack at the end.

“The others our age aren't kind to me. I pretend it doesn't bother me and remember the Lord has a plan for me, but… you can only take so long of being surrounded by old people and little kids before you start to wonder what's wrong with you.”

He was undoubtedly crying now.

“You're probably already gone. Great job, Jongho, you ruined the only thing you had. Loser.”

Your heart dropped to the pit of your stomach. Unbelievable. He was what the kids wanted to grow up to be like, yet he had such a low opinion of himself?

He about jumped out of his skin once you pulled his curtain away just enough to look in at him. Though it hurt to see him like this, he did look gorgeous. His full cheeks were a rosy pink, his lashes clumped together by the big wet tears that rolled down his face. You hated how it turned you on. Just a bit.

“Y-you didn't leave?”

“Oh, Jongho…” You pouted and extended your hand out to him. “No, I wouldn't leave without a word. I wouldn't leave, period.”

When he took your hand into his you could tell his body was shaking. Though he moved to stand up, it didn't last long before he was dropped on his knees, hand still on yours. You found yourself following shortly behind.

Jongho was properly sobbing in every regard, chest heaving, his mouth babbling nonsense to beg you for forgiveness. You shook away his hand and knelt to one knee. Placing a hand upon his shoulder was the only act it took for his arms to reach around your waist and pull himself against you, his face buried in your neck, his hands gripping the fabric of your shirt like you were going to disappear.

“Jongho…”, You rubbed circles on his back. “Come on. Look at me.”

Jongho obliged with hesitation, still avoiding looking into your eyes. You, of course, followed his eyes.

“I'm no prude. You can't get rid of me that easily. I'm not going anywhere, sweetheart. I didn't know you felt so alone, but, honestly… words aren't enough right now.”

You leaned in and placed a kiss on Jongho’s cheek. It was salty, but his skin was smooth against your lips. He flinched in shock but once you pulled away, he found himself wanting more.

His voice was barely above a whisper. “Wait. Can you do that again? Please… this time on my-”

You didn't let him finish his sentence before swooping back in and taking his lips into your own. He gasped so sweetly into your mouth, he tasted like honey and hints of sweetened coffee. Undoubtedly his breakfast.

“Follow my lead, okay?” Jongho was quick to agree.

Based on watching him suck on his bottom lip when he was nervous, you'd figured they'd be soft. They were pillowy, warm, and tasted like vanilla chapstick. His large hand had a death grip on your wrist and you could tell he was riddled with anxiety.

“Jongho, fuck. You taste so good.” You sighed deeply back into the kiss. Jongho's returned advances were shy but undoubtedly needy. The kiss was broken only long enough for you to take his ear lobe gently in your mouth, exercising care not to catch on his studded earring.

Jongho flinched and whined before melting into your touch once more. His mind felt hazy, sluggish, but oh so happy. He’d never dreamed of feeling this way. He didn’t expect to feel any kind of sexual gratification until he was married… whenever that may have been. The guilt he felt for letting you go at his neck in the middle of his lifelong church was immense, but part of him found it unbelievably hot.

“Mmh, please,” Jongho’s hand rested on the back of your head. “Don’t stop.”

“You can touch me, honey.” You smirked and shimmied your jacket off your shoulders. “Wherever you want. I’m yours to explore.”

Jongho was nothing short of eager, with his hands starting to roam the shape of your body. Every stripe you licked down his neck and every sloppy kiss brought forth unholy noises from his throat. His warmly tinted skin blossomed in shades of purple and blue with your manipulation. You’d just have to give him some of your concealer.

“Jongho?”

“Yes, dear? His head slumped forward with a pant.

“Your dream. Wanna make that a reality?”

“What? Isn’t that a-”

“Sin? Mhm. If you don’t sin a bit then Jesus died for nothing.” You giggled. “Besides, it can’t get much worse than what we’re doing already.”

Jongho thought for only a moment before whining and nodding eagerly.

You removed yourself from Jongho and leapt to your feet. “Ok, well we shouldn’t do that right here on the floor. Come on, get back in the booth.”

Jongho leaned back against the wooden wall with his hands bracing himself on the railing.

“Gonna unbutton those pants, alright?” As usual, Jongho was outfitted in slim-fitting black dress pants and a white button-up, complete with a black tie. He truly did look stunning even if you’d never be able to get him to accept it.

Jongho inhaled deeply, watching your every move as you dropped to your knees and fumbled with the clasp of his belt. Undoing it, you waited a moment to fully pull his pants down.

“You’re hard, Jongie~.” You cooed and rubbed the back of his thigh. “Have you ever been hard before?”

“Not outside the ones you get through puberty… or when you're scared for a presentation… well, not until that dream.” One hand brushed your hair out of your face.

“Oh? Sweet boy. I’ll be gentle, I promise.”

Soon enough, Jongho had shrugged his neatly ironed slacks to the floor. Your intuition told you he’d be big… But fuck. He really was. His boxers weren’t tight-fitting in any regard, but the tent formed in them was considerable.

“Oh hell, Jongho! Seriously?! This is what you’ve been keeping from the world all this time.” You groaned and fidgeted with the rim of one of the legs of his boxers. You glanced up long enough to catch his deep brown eyes staring down intently. You’d be lying if you said it didn’t make you a bit antsy to be under his gaze like this.

“I got you, ok?” Jongho hummed nervously at your words.

Your hand moved across the form of his dick just enough to give him an idea of what to expect from this. The way he jolted was enough to let you know he enjoyed it. You rubbed your hand over him with a flat palm and relished in the girth you could already tell he possessed underneath the fabric.

“You’re so fucking big, damn, did you even realize that?” Jongho shook his head feverishly.

“N-no… am I really?” Jongho felt his heart skip a beat, his hand hovering over you.

You could feel his presence over you and grabbed his hand, moved it to your hair, and gave it a reassuring pat. His fingers scratched at your scalp as if on instinct, soothing himself to the feeling. Every movement of your palm sent electric shocks up his spine.

Deciding it was due time for more, you inquired as to whether you could remove his boxers… met with an overwhelming agreeance. His cock sprung from under the confines of his underwear, causing him to wince at the newly cold air. His length was nothing to laugh at, you’d be a fool not to note the considerable circumference and upward curve as well. He was unshaven as you expected with curly black-brown hair over the expanse of his balls and above the base of his dick. He had a rather prominent happy trail which, fittingly, made you incredibly happy. He was circumcised with the skin around the head a shade lighter than the rest. The tip glistened with pre-cum in the dim light. Jongho squirmed under your watch.

“I-is something wrong? Do you not want to anymore…?”

“I… I’m kind of in shock honestly. Your dick is almost as pretty as you… almost.”

Jongho whined and gripped your hair lightly in response. Your free hand caressed the expanse of his firm thighs, the other encasing the head of his dick.

“A-ah, careful!” Jongho resisted the need to buck his hips against your touch. “I-I’m sensitive. Really.”

You hummed in acknowledgment, gathered a considerable amount of drool in the space of your cheeks, and let it run down onto him. The warm sensation melted the boy’s mind. You gave him a few languid strokes to spread the makeshift lube along the length of his shaft. Using three fingers, you rubbed a deliberate line up the prominent vein situated on the underside of his cock. Jongho’s labored breathing filled the confined space with need.

“Such a pretty thing, you are.” You purred and left a quick peck just below Jongho’s navel. “Such a needy boy.” Your movements matched up with your strokes and fondles.

“Feels good, doesn’t it? Don’t worry about replying, babe. Just listen to me.”

Jongho stroked your cheek with trembling hands. “You’re so beautiful.” His words almost carried a pout and made your heart melt. They felt sincere. Like you could trust them. He meant it outside the heat of the moment.

You met Jongho’s gaze tenderly. “So, you meant it all those times, didn’t you? All the times you greeted me before mass?”

Jongho’s voice was velvety smooth in his response. “Of course I did. Even besides lying being a sin… I’ve always thought so from the first time I saw you. Always…”

“Oh, Jongho… Jongho by the time I’m done with you, you’re only going to want to worship to me.”

Feeling you’d worked him up enough by now, you took his cock into your mouth, giving him time to adjust to the new feeling. You hollowed your cheeks and sunk your head further down around him, embracing the struggle once his length hit the back of your throat. Your gag panicked Jongho, urging him to nervously make sure you’re okay. You lent him a reassuring rub to his thigh, taking his cock back into your mouth with a hum.

Jongho’s grip on your hair tightened in congruence with his loudening moans. He felt as if he might die. He felt he might’ve already died because could heaven be any better than his current situation? He wasn’t so sure anymore.

“Feels so good, y/n, so good.” Jongho’s voice broke toward the end of his statement. You took into consideration how he wasn't used to this, planning every ministration carefully to ensure he enjoyed each moment that he lasted.

Introducing a hand to the mix, you wrapped your hand firmly around the base of his cock. This gave you a bit of stability in leverage so that you could swirl your tongue all over. Around the tip, tease the slit of his head, gently over the thin band of skin below it. You pulled back from his cock with a pop to catch your breath.

“Doing ok, Jongho?” You sighed and rested your cheek against his thigh for a moment.

His head was thrown back to rest against the wood of the booth, forehead damp with sweat. He granted you a thumbs up which you found incredibly in character.

“Cum whenever you're ready, alright? Just let me know.” You lowered yourself down a bit further in order to take one of his balls into your mouth. With one hand twisting and tugging at his cock, you knew he wouldn't take much longer to bust. It seemed you were right, whimpers filling the space around the two of you.

“Close-” Jongho groaned and desperately reached for your hand that was grasping at his toned thighs. You accept his advance, intertwining your fingers with his and squeezing reassuringly. His nails digging into the skin of your hand and his breath fully catching in his throat was the last sign you needed.

Swiftly, your mouth sank back around Jongho just in time for his climax. White hot cum coated the inside of your mouth, plenty of it, that had undoubtedly been waiting since his dream. You wondered briefly how uncomfortable it was for his balls to have been so full. Once Jongho came back down to reality enough, the gravity of what you'd done set in on him.

“You… you swallowed it?!” He gasped, shocked that was even a possibility.

“Mm,” You popped off of his length and shook your head. Opening your mouth wide so he could see his load pooling on your tongue, you made a show of swallowing every last drop. “Now I did.”

After a moment of silence Jongho cocked his head to the side. “Does it, uh, taste good?”

“Only because it's yours.”

Helping Jongho clean up with tissues you kept in your purse, you let him buckle his belt and help you to your feet.

“Don't you want anything in return?”

“Only for you to be mine and only mine.”

“O-Oh, I can do that. But what about your…?”

“Let's wait ‘til mass actually ends. They're gonna wonder where we've been. Come on, Jjongie.”

Anticipation shivered up his spine, taking your hand into his own to lead you to the doorway that opened to the main hall of the church.

Jongho took the initiative to kiss you tenderly. “I'll make up some excuse on the spot.”

“Deal.”

#jongho smut #ateez smut #choi jongho smut #ateez jongho smut #ateez imagines #ateez fic #ateez fanfic #jongho imagines #jongho fic #jongho fanfic #ateez scenarios #[jo fucks ateez 🏴‍☠️]

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dyeher · 10 months

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includes| miya osamu x fem! reader x miya atsumu— smut (840 words)

content| Cream Pie, Praising, Degradation, Double Penetration, Their dicks do be touching (i,e do not read this if you are not comfortable with themes that may reflect hard incest).

notes| welcome back old ass content.

you’re spread open on the dining table of your apartment, left leg over osamu’s shoulder, right leg held open by atsumu. you want to say this situation started out purely by accident but, you’d be lying. getting fucked by the miya twins has been a fantasy of yours since you first met them. of course, you were never brave enough to actually say anything about it but, atsumu has never been very good at hiding his attraction to you and well from the way osamu usually glared at his brother’s forwardness you’d assumed he was equally attracted to you.

it never helped that they’d sometimes team up to tease you whenever they could. this turned out to be your downfall, and it was during a teasing session that they’d learned of your desire to be fucked by them both. you didn’t even say anything out loud, but it was your silence after osamu had jokingly pointed it out that you never complained about their tag team teasing, that it was almost like you wanted it.

it’s how you ended up here. the thick vein along the side of osamu’s cock dragging against your gummy walls whenever he was inside you, and the mushroomed head of atsumu’s cock bumping into the entrance of your cervix. it was…everything you’d imagined and more. you figured they’d be competitive at least but, they weren’t, they worked like a well-oiled machine to make you into a crying mess before they even begun to fuck you.

by the time you realized they were taking turns fucking into your slicked-up cunt, you were three orgasms in.

“she’s so fuckin’ tight,” atsumu hisses, “the tightest little slut, fuck.”

“she’s such a good girl,” osamu coos, “god, look how well her pussy’s taking my cock.”

the mixture of atsumu’s degrading words and osamu’s praise let you dizzy, had your cunt clenching around air when osamu pulled out in time for atsumu to guide his cock in. the process repeats itself until you’re full-on crying, sobbing for one of them to stay put, to fuck you properly.

“we’re both getting in there, princess,” osamu assures you, the meaning behind his words don’t register until atsumu chuckles.

“bet her pussy can do it,” he pushes against your legs until your knee is pressed against your side ono the bed and osamu mirror’s his actions. you realize a little too late what that means but your cunt clenches at the thought of them sharing you like that, filling you like that. osamu slaps his cock against your pussy before lining himself up.

“if ya can’t take it, just tell us to stop,” he says, “and we will.” you nod and he eases himself back into you, fucking your walls slowly, teasingly, coaxing your slick out, drawing breathless thank yous from your parted lips. he leans down to kiss you, it’s slow and gentle, but firm, grounding, he tastes like spicy shrimp and mayo, the kind he makes at Onigiri Miya, it’s delicious, per usual.

he pulls back and you prop yourself up on your elbows to watch atsumu squeeze the head of his cock next to osamu. the sensation is new, and your body reacts immediately, squeezing and sucking at them.

“ah shit, “atsumu curses, he leans his head against his brother’s shoulder when he bottoms out.

osamu stares at your face, your eyes are rolled back, and your breath are coming rapidly, “ya okay pretty girl? want us to continue?” he doesn’t try to hide the strained quality of his voice.

you can feel them, atsumu’s deeper than osamu but the stretch, oh God, the stretch was maddening. you barely nod before they begin to move, atsumu pulling out and osamu grinding against your walls.

“fuck, ya feel s’good,” osamu moans, “so fuckin’ tight.”

“yer cunts fucking stretched,” atsumu smacks at one of your breasts, and chuckles when all you can do is moan. “this really the first time ya did this?” atsumu knows you can’t answer, as they both speed up.

osamu wipes at the tears that begin to trickle down your cheeks and coos about how pretty you are, while atsumu grunts about how much of a slut you are for being able to fit both of them in you. it takes them less time than you expected to have you creaming around them, especially with atsumu’s fingers shoved into your mouth and osamu’s fingers toying at your clit.

they cum soon after, filling your cunt together, pulling out with an embarrassing pop. astumu prods at your entrance experimentally and they make identical sounds of surprise when he easily fits four of his fingers inside of you.

they step back to watch the way your hole gapes at them, leaking their cum down between your ass cheeks and onto the dining table. it dawns on you in the recess of your mind that, they’ve probably done this before. you chuckle at the realization that despite their short-comings and teasing nature with each other, the miya twins like to share.

#atsumu miya x reader #atsumu x reader #atsumu smut #osamu smut #osamu miya x reader #haikyuu smut #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #hq: beyablade.

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spaceorphan18 · 1 month

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The Lady Whistledown Papers: 1x05 The Duke and I

Welcome back, Gentle Readers, to The Lady Whistledown Papers, where I’m taking an in-depth look at Penelope Featherington and Colin Bridgerton’s character arcs and romance within the show Bridgerton!

For previous issues, follow tag : The Lady Whistledown Papers

It's episode five! Things are getting spicy! ;) While there's not a ton in this episode, there are some BIG developments...

Tomatoes

Alright, so I should mention before we get too into this scene, that it kicks off with mentioning the money issues the Featheringtons are about to have. It's part of the reason Portia is gonna push Marina marrying Colin so hard. Having a wealthy Bridgerton in her pocket kills two birds with one stone.

Alright, so this is day who knows how long of this courtship has been going on, and after the events of last episode, Penelope is no longer thinking this whole thing is cute or tolerable anymore. It's a combination of -- she's fucking with the man I love and the man I love is being fucked with, which are two different things. Yes, she is protective of her feelings and has no desire to watch Colin be with someone else. But she's also very protective of Colin in general - because they do have a relationship. It may not be romantic, but there are mutual feelings of friendship, and she sincerely does not like that Marina is manipulating him.

But of course - the look on her face here is pure jealousy. Because Colin is bringing flowers to Marina every day. And Marina doesn't really care all that much, but oh, how Penelope would love to be courted, love to be romanced, love to have the attention of any one showering her gifts and compliments. But the fact that it's not just some guy that she could live vicariously through Marina with, it's Colin, which makes it intolerable.

Meanwhile, oh Colin, lost in his own fantasies. He loves playing this role of romantic hero. He brings in flowers every time for Marina -- because it's a way to show he cares about her. It's also, probably, proper gentlemanly contact to bring gifts during a courtship. But it's also interesting -- that the whole reason this tomato discourse kicks off is that he wants to surprise her, be unpredictable, make himself stand out when it comes to the courtship.

Also, I'm really entertained by the thought that a bushel of tomatoes would be used as a courtship device. Nothing says romance quite like the tomato. (As much as I'm being cheeky about it, I do love a bit of spontaneity and absurdity in a relationship, so I do approve of Colin's ridiculousness here.)

I LOVE the tomato discourse. I love it.

I love that Penelope can't even help herself by injecting her comments. She is gonna meddle, but it's going to be on a simpler level to start with. Just a throwaway comment that really doesn't raise eyebrows (at first) that Marina doesn't like tomatoes. Which undermines the act that Marina is throwing at Colin (and Pen so notes this -- and, honestly, she's probably a bit amused that Colin picked something that Marina probably does actively hate).

Then, of course, after Marina kind of brushes that comment off, Pen digs in a little more -- suggesting the best place to go get tomatoes is... Greece. (My god, this cracks me up every time -- is Greece known for it's tomatoes??) And I love that she says this with a smile, playing it off as if she were just trying to be helpful. Then she suggests Colin bring her back a bunch (because I'm sure they'd survive the trip) after he gets back from Greece. Oohh, Pen, it's a longshot stall tactic, but if she can just put this courtship on delay...

It's fascinating watching Marina in this moment. She KNOWS that Penelope is up to meddling. She knows that she's intentionally trying to stop things from progressing forward, but the interesting thing is that she doesn't know why Pen is doing it. I mean, I kind of think it's obvious, but Marina, at this point, has begun to trust Penelope as a friend -- so it just comes off as her being super weird.

Colin, meanwhile, is a bit baffled by Penelope. He doesn't really catch on that she's meddling -- thinks, more so, that she's being a little obtuse, and that is not catching on that he'd rather see how things work out with Marina. But...

There are a couple of interesting dynamics going on in this last little bit.

First of all, the comfort in which Pen and Colin speak to each other says a lot. There's no formality between them. They speak with each other at ease, in the way siblings would talk with each other. Colin, no doubt, probably does think of Pen a bit like Eloise in this moment. He even calls her Pen, here, which is kind of unusual when you think about it, because they're at her house and not his. And the way he kind of dismissively states he's unsure of his travel plans -- it's said, almost irritatingly, in the way you'd want to tell your younger sibling to bugger off, I'm trying to hook up with this girl...

When Pen brings up his travel plans, she mentions that he's always been interested in travel. And while this is a calculated thought - a way to re-inspire desires that he has probably for sure talked about at great length when she's been over to visit Eloise -- I think there's some sincerity here, too. I think she can recognize a desire to go out and see the world, and the idea of him closing the door on that opportunity -- especially for Marina, who is manipulating a relationship with him, and will saddle him with fatherhood at such a young age really does get to her.

Which is why it's more complex than -- I have a crush on a boy, if I get him out of the country, he won't hook up with the pregnant lady and be stuck with her.

Colin then has a line that REALLY sticks out to me. :: 'Were I to go, there are things in London I'd miss more than seeing the world.'

This line hits a little harder when you sit down and think about it. I don't doubt that Colin has an adventurous spirit -- more so than either of his older brothers. But I think also, unlike them (well, Benedict is going to go about it another way) Colin is searching for something. He isn't sure what, but travel seems to be an opportunity to find out.

Marina is a purpose. She's a reason to stay. She's a reason to do the things that his heart really desires to do. She's a person to protect. A person to start a family with. A person whom he does want to figure out his sexual desires with. A person who will let him satisfy the role he thinks he's supposed to have in society. And if that person is right there - then why travel in the first place? He doesn't need to search for something that is right there.

The fascinating thing is that it is better for Colin that he does end up going. He kind of needs those experiences to gain new outlooks on life, to clear his head, to be at peace with himself, and to understand what really missing something when he's away is. And, of course, because he'll find that he'll get to fall in love in a deeper way while he's gone (of course - through his correspondence with Penelope).

And, of course, i can't help but go back to thoughts on The Odyssey -- which is one of the myths embedded in Pen and Colin's story -- the story of a world weary soldier just trying to get back home to his wife... Penelope.

Colin thinks he understands what he's saying when he says that line. But he doesn't truly get. And won't ever if he choses a path with Marina - one that is doomed to be a (possibly) unfulfilled life.

It's always so funny to me when TV characters have private conversations literally two feet away from people who shouldn't hear it, lol.

Pen is probably well aware that the childish meddling she's doing isn't really working, so she goes to appeal to her mother. She points out that Colin is young, yes, but she tries to appeal to her mother's sense of logic. She points out that there may not be enough time to get them married since Colin is young and may not be ready for marriage. Portia considers, but does have her own plans...

Ug, poor Pen, the pining does get me. It'll be alright, girl...

A Plan...

If there's one thing you can say about Marina, it's that she knows how to play this game, and how to do it well so that she can get what she needs. Is it manipulation? Yes. Is she doing it out of self preservation? Absolutely.

She completely plays Portia here (Portia, isn't necessarily stupid, either, but is trying to be calculating in her own right). Marina appeals to Portia's sense of status -- and her desire and need to maintain that status. So Marina basically cuts her a deal. Let me go after Colin, and I'll repay you by letting you stay in your good standing with the Ton. And so the two of them forge an alliance.

But, ah, all this talk of seduction and manipulation -- that's breaking Penelope's heart as she hears it. It's bad enough that the guy she loves is interested in someone else. She has always known or felt that she'd lose Colin some day to another woman. But to lose him to people who do not have his best interest at heart? It's devastating.

But still... she does not go first to her best line of defense, Lady Whistledown... that's the last possible card she'll play.

A Wedding

This is, like, the saddest wedding ever. Man, they look miserable.

Colin seems fine about it. He smiles a bit because it's Daphne, and she's getting married. But not a whole lot of insight to pull out here. He's so detached from this plot line, lol.

A Proposal

So, right before we jump into the Pen and Marina stuff, Cressida approaches Daphne and basically says -- I hope some day you'll pay me to keep quit about the shit I saw in the garden. Like, the girl had a blackmailing mindset even here. I mean, obviously Season 3 didn't come out of nowhere, but it is interesting the seeds they did place for things so early on.

Anyway... Penelope's back to her meddling -- this time trying to get Marina interested in ANYONE else. And I mean, Pen's got a good eye. She's watched all of these people, and I trust that she's attempting to set Marina up with a good (enough) match.

After Marina becomes stubborn about Colin, Penelope opens up. While she's not entirely truthful, she is very open and does lay a lot of it on the line. She admits she does care for Colin. She admits that she just cannot stand back and watch him be manipulated into a life that he didn't sign up for. While she is holding back on the extent of her romantic feelings, she is being emotionally vulnerable, in a way to get Marina to empathize with her. I mean, she is being sincere, and cutting a lot of the mind games crap she had been doing. But she's hoping that a more open approach will help change Marina's mind.

Of course - Marina is out to win. She sees no other options, and she does throw some of it back in Penelope's face. She knows that Colin is a sure thing, and that she'll be treated right. She is not going to lose that chance - because the alternative are the Rutledges of the world. And she just can't take that chance.

It's kind of funny that she still doesn't get how invested Penelope is in this, but she is giving Pen her own moment of emotional vulnerability. She is running out of time, and she will do what she can to secure a good future for herself, and however Penelope feels about it, doesn't really matter because it's ultimately not about her. (And, you know, she isn't wrong, even though we may side with Pen on this one.)

We also learn that Rudledge is engaged and off the market (darn) so Portia tells Marina she'd better get working on Colin... there is a time limit after all.

Before we get to Colin though... we have this brief moment between Pen and Eloise. They've had their fight, and now it's awkward. Neither really quite knowing what to say. But it'll be alright... They always find their way back to each other. But no time for that now! Other plotlines to get to! lol

Poor Pen, no where to hide in this brightly lit, very white room. She can't hide from Eloise. And she can't hide from Marina and Colin. It's just a lot... Just a lot to witness, and she can't do anything about it.

Not at the moment anyway...

The reason the earlier episodes showed Pen and Marina getting along well is to establish the respect Pen has for Marina and vice versa. But this is the turning point. Because Pen had tried to be open about her feelings and Marina was just not playing that game.

Oh, there is some anger in Penelope's eyes. You do not fuck with Colin. You just don't. Penelope would help her with any, every other man in all of England. Just not hers. Pen could accept if Marina truly loved Colin, she probably would let him go.

But the 'act' is going into full swing now, and Pen just cannot with it. She just cannot with how Marina is going to completely manipulate the situation. And even though Pen doesn't get to see what we're about to -- she knows what's happening. Unfortunately, poor Colin can't.

So, what is the FIRST thing Marina do? She needs to get them alone, so she pretends she's not feeling well. And I mean, she gets him. She so gets him. His protector/hero complex is activated and he quickly is not only concerned, but gets her out of there.

And oofff, this next scene is almost hard to watch, because every beat of it on Marina's end is calculated. It's masterful really.

Oh, poor Pen, having a moment for herself of sadness.

But I also just thought of something... had Marina chosen anyone else, she could have really helped Marina. The Lady Whistledown of it all could have helped her. Penelope watches everything, she knows things, and she could have helped Marina in snagging any other man at that party. Of course, she was never going to give up her identity, but it's kind of interesting to think of the what ifs...

Oh man, Marina's smug look when they enter the study. She isn't even trying to hide it.

Colin. You are such a dumbass. (Said with all the love, cause I do love his dumb ass.)

It's funny, Colin is such an interesting study because he's got such a duality about him. Social decorum is something he thinks about (and will very much so in this scene), but he also isn't really one to play by the rules.

In this instance, though, it's his youthful inexperience and naivety that is his down fall. Does he want to be alone with Marina? Yes. But does he sense that she's setting this up so they can be alone? Not even in the slightest. He's still in protector mode. Even the scandalous shutting of the door is about her comfort, not about what she's trying to get.

He may be a little slower, but he's not a complete idiot, and when he takes a moment to asses that she's fine, he gets it. And the wheels start turning. And yeah, he does want to hook up with her. His little grin at his fortune says that.

Marina, however, just has zero time for the drawn out romance Colin has playing in his head. She is direct and gets right to the point. And I love that there's a little moment of freak out that crosses his face. Sure, he wants to hook up -- but he clearly never has before, because the minute she moves forward he does have a sheer moment of panic before he regains himself. He wants her. But he has no idea what he's doing.

And then we get this. This almost kiss. And there's just... a lot to this little moment. A lot.

Because I think it speaks to Colin's fantastical idea of what romance is vs the reality of it when it's staring him in his face.

I do think, yes, base line, he wants to kiss her -- among other things. And I do kind of wonder if he even has kissed anyone at this point, because he's kind of acting as if he's in this place where it just feels... not right. And, not even coming from the societal pressure (which I'll get to in a second) but from a place where -- he has all of these romantic little fantasy of what this moment should be like, and having a rushed moment in the study the way Anthony probably would do it, is not really Colin. Or.. this youthful version of Colin who doesn't have the experience.

I have to wonder if this younger Colin has all these fantasies about kissing his wife for the first time at their wedding and the magical moments he know does happen afterwards. And I think that's why I do think it's a good thing all of this happens because it does end up smashing his idyllic version of romance to allow him to be open to what real romance is -- not the ideas he's made up in his head, but what is really there.

(And I mean, I guess I'll get into it maybe later? I do have headcanons for Colin -- such as his first time with a woman was probably bought and paid for at a brothel. That after this whole Marina thing kind of sours him on love for a while, it pushes him to go out and get some experiences. It allows him to understand the world a bit better - so when he finally does see Penelope, he'll understand it better.)

So he stops the kiss. And Marina, who is savvy as fuck for navigating all of this so quickly, doesn't push him. She's gonna seduce him, but she'll do so on his terms. And appealing to his greater sense of romanticism and honor. Which really works in her favor, ultimately.

Colin can barely believe he's stopping - because he probably is a bit overwhelmed by whatever body reaction is probably happening in that moment. He still considers himself a gentleman who does things in a proper order.

And it's funny, as much as he ends up being a bit of a rule breaker, it's almost not intentionally. He wants to always be doing the right thing. He wants that honor. He wants to be the gentleman. He wants to be seen in good standing by the greater society. So he won't do anything to compromise himself, but more so her. And so he holds back because this is not the proper way. So, yes, I do think some of society's pressure is on display here, too.

Oh, but Marina, girl is so calculated in this scene. She plays on his gentlemanly nature. Plays on his need for honor. And pushes hard on his desire. You almost feel bad for how easily Colin cracks. He is very much a 'my wife' guy. Even here with Marina, that tendency is here on display.

The jump to marriage is bonkers quick. Yes -- it is partially fueled by society's restraints on sexual desires. But it's also a romantic fantasy Colin actually wants. He wants a wife. He wants that life. He's just never found that emotional connection to really fuel him to go for it. But he thinks he has that with Marina. He thinks that she wants that life with him, too. And, of course, now that they've been alone and courting, he thinks it is the proper step to take. So he does.

It's sweetly in earnest. And a bit unsure of a proposal. He doesn't doubt his own feelings, but he doesn't know where Marina stands.

When Marina not only says yes but looks ecstatic about the idea, he just lights up. Romantic achievement fulfilled. That almost kiss did make him unsure of things. But now that marriage is on the table. Now that they can have this nice long engagement and a fancy wedding and this idyllic life of love he's always heard about from his mother, he is so, so excited about it. He thinks he's getting everything he's ever wanted.

And... he thinks he's giving her everything she wants. He talks about her deserving a grand wedding. He is (almost hilariously) breathless when he says it'll be wonderful. (There is really a little ten yo girl living Colin's heart, lol)

Unfortunately, Marina's excitement is not for the same reason as his own. She's thrilled that this whole plan has worked as quickly and as swimmingly as she wanted to. And... she didn't even have to sleep with him to get a proposal. Win-win, really.

Oh, Colin... he feels everything so intensely. It's a shame this is a mix of lust and youthful ignorance fueling romantic fantasies that this proposal comes about. And Marina was hoping for all of that. He promises that he'll give her everything she wants, and he does in this moment. It's a shame that what Colin doesn't realize -- it is just a fantasy, and ultimately, not what he wants.

Oh man, that look Marina gives before she turns around. Diabolical. I don't think of her as a villain. I really don't. I think she's a young woman who is desperate and willing to do what she can to ensure her own safety. But she is playing with his heart, and knows it.

Look how giddy he is, oh Colin... Well, they promise not to say anything -- because seriously, probably not a good thing to announce your engagement at your sister's wedding. But Colin's probably going to be sleeping well tonight.

It's interesting -- thinking about how Penelope is currently a little heartbroken while all of this is going on. But, you know, she's had a long time to have to deal with these problems, with the emotions. She is able to handle a lot of these harder emotions and process them better because they've been going on for so long.

I think when the shit hits the fan with Marina, it's going to hurt so much worse in some ways. It's like the opposite of the she fell first, he fell harder trope. He's never had to experience heartbreak on this level before, and it'll feel devastating. It's no wonder he spends all of season 2 spiraling. Huh.

Anyway, on that happy note, we get to move onto episode 6! Which is my favorite Polin episode for Season 1 :)

[As an aside, this episode ends with Daphne and Simon's first time, which -- has a lot of similarities, beats, and dialogue as the Polin mirror scene. But the atmosphere, tone, and even acting are a lot different. Idk - I find it really fascinating. If anyone else does, let me know, and I can do a side by side analysis of it, cause there are some interesting things to dissect there.]

#bridgerton #polin #colin bridgerton #penelope featherington #penelope bridgerton #colin x penelope #polination #the lady whistledown papers #i probably should have split this in two but ah well

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