#Continuous inspection pattern

[esote-rika]

More of you to worship | Spencer Reid

Pairing: Spencer Reid x gn!reader

Category: fluff, mild angst

Summary: Spencer Reid has insecurities about his changing body, and you assure him you love him regardless.

Content: body insecurity, established relationship, one mention of New Year

Word count: 1.5k

A/N: Quick little oneshot to end the year! You can thank @reidgif for this one because this gif rekindled my hyperfixation on his tummy. And then I saw a clip of Aisha (Tara’s actress) saying MGG weighs 11 pounds and has the metabolism of a rabbit on speed (lmfao) anyway, I took that and ran with it and now here we are. As someone who struggles with dysmorphia, I did my very best to be as sensitive with this as possible. Last fix of the year, I hope you enjoy it!

Spencer had begun to notice it a few weeks ago. At first, he had foolishly thought that there was simply something wrong with the shirt he had worn. Tactile sensitivity had always been something he dealt with, and this was no different. There had been a certain peculiarity in the fit of his shirt that he couldn’t quite pinpoint. Days continued, and it became a persistent bother, impeding his movement when he aimed, and inhibiting his general comfort.

It wasn’t until today, sitting in the bed—one he shared with you—that he finally had the time to inspect what was going on. The two of you had just gotten home from Rossi, who had graciously hosted a New Year’s dinner at his mansion. Spencer had admittedly eaten more than his fill, and that’s when he realized—it showed.

At once, the problem appeared. He was gaining weight. His shirts were bothering him because they were growing too tight, digging into places where they had previously been loose. The realization made him pause, as he stared down at himself.

Sitting on the bed, his stomach had gathered into a bulge, straining against the cloth. It was a new sight, not necessarily unwelcomed, but it seemed to send his mind reeling (to be fair, a lot sent his mind reeling nowadays, he was running on fumes, his only reprieve being you.)

He had never been muscular, had never found the need to be muscular. The team was nearly faultless because everyone filled a role, and they executed that well. He was, has always been, the genius, the expert on everything, as Hotch had called him once. Being the genius of the BAU meant that he had value. Relevance. It brought him great deal of pride, being able to contribute and pick up on patterns and little details that the majority of the team might miss.

It made him feel like he mattered. Needed.

So what if he couldn’t tackle a man down? They used to have Derek and Hotch for that, and now that role was being fulfilled by Luke and Matt, both of whom were utter specimens of the male physique.

But his time in prison had proven to him that he couldn’t rely on just his brains. Not when he had three burly inmates looking for trouble, looking for someone easy. It pained him that someone easy meant someone that looked like him. Tall, gangly, defenseless.

He took another breath and frowned as the fabric around his stomach grew tighter, taut at having to contain this belly that had formed over the course of the evening. A food baby, you liked to call it, because your own tummy was bonded to several factors as well—hormones, food, water intake—that made it fluctuate frequently, normally.

Normal. He tried to remind himself that this was normal, gaining weight was normal, but then again, how could someone tell what was normal when their—his—whole life, he had little experience with the word? Growing up a genius and taking care of an ailing mother skewed whatever sense of normalcy he could have developed.

Besides, his normal meant lanky, thin. His body, the way it was framed and built, had always been long and erring on the side of delicate. It wasn’t that he hadn’t tried to bulk up, it was that his muscles were lean; that was simply how his anatomy worked. It would take a lot more effort to gain more muscle, effort that he, admittedly, didn’t want to exert. It wasn’t his role.

And now, he looked down at his stomach with a crease on his brow, mind whirring with explanations. Weight fluctuations are normal, and they were okay, and he was nearing forty, anyway, of course his metabolism was beginning to slow down, human adults’ bodily functions tend to do that, it was scientific and —

“Honey?”

He looked up, and there you were, your loveliness framed by the plain doorway. Somehow, you made it seem more magical, less boring, as though your very presence just made everything better. He smiled, holding out a hand for you, forcing the wave of insecurity down his throat, down his chest, trying to bury it deep in the recesses of his body.

You walked closer, and the thoughts punched through his attempts to silence them—you wouldn’t find him attractive anymore.

Something must have shifted on his face, a sliver of that anxiety creating fresh lines between his brows, because you paused. A hand ran across your cheek, and he felt the weight of your concern in the action.

“What’s wrong, Spence?”

He drew you closer, pulled you onto his lap. He couldn’t lie to you, not out of his lack of skill, but due to your incessant ability to somehow sniff out the truth from him, one way or another.

“I think I’m outgrowing my shirts.” he said, softening the words with a chuckle. He was ashamed to admit that it was affecting him more than he anticipated; maybe humor would lessen its significance.

“Aren’t you a little too old to be going through puberty?” you asked, matching the teasing tone of his voice. The difference was glaring though; his voice was awfully strained, and yours was lighter, more at ease.

Still, he laughed, buried his face at the nape of your neck. “They’re getting tight around my stomach.”

At that, you pulled back. He swallowed the whine that threatened to leave his lips; he was already being so pathetic over a little pudge, he was reaching max capacity. With bated breath, he watched as your gaze ran over him, eyes flickering with recognition when they landed on his torso.

“Oh they are,” You replied, hands going up to his shoulders, tugging at the fabric there, “Here too. Huh, I guess we’ll have to go shopping then.”

He looked, patiently waited for more.

“What?” you asked, eyes crinkling oh so prettily at the corners that he couldn’t help but press a kiss over them.

“That’s it?” he murmured, disbelief coloring his voice. He had anticipated more of a reaction, maybe a suggestion of ‘oh maybe you should go to the gym’. But you took it with such stride that he was a little confused.

“Yeah, that’s it.” you laughed, brought a palm down to his stomach, that one place that’s causing him to basically break down, “Should there be more?”

He shrugged.

Perched on his lap, you frowned as you watched emotions flicker through his eyes. “Spence,” You murmured, kissing his temple, “Talk to me.”

“I just don't want you to think I'm unattractive anymore.” The words felt bitter in his tongue; it was a relief to release them, get them out of his system. “I was never - you know - sexy before, and now I'm gaining weight.”

“Spence,” You interrupted him gently. It wasn't something you did often; his rambles were one of the things you loved about him after all, but it pained you to hear him get so insecure about something so insignificant as his weight, especially since his body wasn't even the thing that made him attractive to you in the first place, “Belly pudge or scrawny, I think you're hot.”

His eyes softened, looking so impossibly hopeful that you couldn't stop the urge to lean in and kiss him. “Seriously,” You murmured, “It doesn't matter to me. You're handsome, but you're also so intelligent and passionate and sensitive, and those are so much more important than how you look.”

He sagged with relief, arms tightening around you. “Yeah?” He asked as he buried his face in your hair.

“Yeah, honey. I'm not with you because of your looks,” You replied, then with a little laugh, you added, “Although, they certainly are an added bonus.”

His shoulders shook as he chuckled, and you can feel his lips giving you tiny kisses at the crown of your head.

“Besides,” You continued, toying with the hair at the nape of his neck, “The way I see it, there's physically more of you now - more of you to hug, and to love, more of you to worship.”

He was silent, but his grip on you never faltered, breath fanning gently over your hair. “More of me to love.” He whispered, “You're right, that's - that's one way to look at it.”

“Mhmm,” You nodded, “But you really do need to go shopping, can't have you ripping your shirts while you're out on a case. You wouldn't want your team to think you're doing an impromptu strip tease.”

He bursted out laughing, and exhilaration filled your chest. You always took pride in making him laugh, and this was no exception.

“God, I love you.” He said, pulling back and resting his forehead against yours.

“I love you too.” You smiled, then added, “Besides, I think the pudge is cute. You're on your way to a dad bod.”

He laughed again, and if you could hear that sound on loop forever, then you would be in heaven

[xxiiam]

Unpunishable

Contents - dbf!joel x fem! Reader , Jackson! Joel , relationship established but no label on it , age gap but no specific ages you’re an adult but Joel still doesn’t see you as an equal , mean-ish Joel , boot riding , two pussy slaps , size kink if you squint , daddy kink, joel always too soft on you in the end, unprotected sex, creampie , fingering, joel is huge

Wk - 2.835k

Authors note - you can imagine this as game joel or hbo joel i don’t really care need both , need dbf joel need dbf joel need dbf joel. Inbox always open reblogs and comments always appreciated. Female perverts rise

The clock had hit 7:00 pm and still no sight of joel he said he’d be home at 6:30 and would make you both dinner . You just waited , reading . You got so bored you even started inspecting all of the tchotchkes and Knick knacks Joel had collected over the years. Nothing of interest to you. Then you heard the gate close so you rushed to the window opening the drapes to see joel walking up the small path to your shared home.

You turned on your heels rushing to the door sliding on the wooden panels as you bounced on the balls of your feet waiting for the door to open. Joel walked in tired eyes meeting yours , “someone’s excited to see her old man” his gruff voice spoke out as he slid his thick jacket off and hung it up on the coat hook. “I am! I’ve been waiting- you’re late daddy.. M’hungry” you said toddling towards joel and were greeted by his large rough , calloused hand on your cheek . Thumb stroking back and forth before he smoothed over your hair , “‘m sorry sweetheart , you did your hair real nice ‘nd pretty for me today” his eyes trailed down landing on the short flowy dress you had on littered with floral patterns . Joel always liked you in floral dresses, “even dressed nice for me too? What’s the catch? You wantin somethin?” He smiled as his hands travelled to your waist smoothing out the dress .

You shook your head but a grin was plastered on your lips , “no no just wanted to look pretty for you when you got home, missed you. Felt lonely , I always feel lonely when you go out on patrol I have no one to talk to nothing to do”

He sighed smile being wiped off of his face , joel hated talking about this . He just wanted to keep you safe in the house , safe from the outside although you lived in a nice community you weren’t too sure what he meant by that. But he often scolded you saying “adults know best” although you too were an adult.

“We’re not talkin about this again when you’re older you’ll realise I’m doin all this for your benefit” his voice was stern it was more him talking at you than to you. You frowned , “I am older , I’m not asking for much maybe you can talk to the lady at the bakery and ask if I can help out I just want something to do I don’t like being cooped up in here all alone.” He removed his hands from your waist and just walked past you to the kitchen to start making food. Ending the conversation. Joel hated when you walked away from him during conversation but had no problem doing it himself.

Dumbfounded you stood there for a moment , why did he always treat you like this? Leaving you in the dark about so many things you weren’t stupid you just wanted to feel like an adult. You soon followed him into the kitchen sitting down at your retrospective designated place at the table, “you always tell me it’s rude to walk away when someone is speaking to you” . His back was still turned away from you , “you want me to start treating you’re a big girl? Start actin like one instead of a spoiled brat. You don’t know how good you have it here” . You stammered for a moment but joel didn’t actually let you speak before continuing , “you forget to set the table today. You say yer bored , got nothin to do . I ask you to do simple things around the house and I don’t see you doing nothing just day dreamin all day”

Your fists balled on the table out of protest you wouldn’t actually do anything you and Joel both knew it was performative. “I jus’ forgot that’s all” . He didn’t respond he just continued cooking 30 minutes of silence is what he gave you. Until he set your plate down on the wooden table . Joel knew you hated silent treatment. You just hated not knowing what you did wrong and why he wasn’t speaking to you. You just moved the food around your plate with your fork watching him eat. “Stop playin’ with your food nd just eat it.” He ordered his mood still sour, “not hungry” , he clicked his tongue and set his fork down staring at you , anger very present in his face. You were teetering on a thin line and you knew consequences would be in due. “You told me not thirty minutes ago you were hungry said you’d been waitin all day now you’re sayin you’re not? And you say you’re grown , you’re this and that but act like this whenever things don’t go your way?”

“Why are you being mean to me today?” You pouted staring at your food , you were hungry but you just were too upset to eat it. “I’m not . I just don’t like your attitude change it or I’ll fix it for you” he said standing up and putting his finished plate in the sink. Washing and wiping his hands with a rag. He turned around again clearly making himself more and more angry thinking about how stupid this situation is , but you still spoke up . “I just missed you nd you’re being mean to me” your tone sounding more and more childish although you didn’t mean it to be. You were just upset maybe joel was right.

He walked over to your seat pulling it back , “knees” he commanded you just stared at him blankly , “I won’t ask again” he spoke his eyes were dark , in all honesty you had done your hair and dressed nicely for him hoping he would fuck you good after dinner so you could go to bed with a full stomach and stuffed with his cum.

You slowly got to your knees from the chair , you reached to start unbuckling Joel’s belt but he swatted your hand away , “no you say you missed your daddy? Prove it” he looked down to his boot , you looked down to his boot then back at him , “how do I prove it?” . He flipped up your dress using his boot before sliding his left leg forward towards your knees , “go on” . Your cheeks began to heat up , felt embarrassing being told to hump his boot like some kind of dog. But you wrapped your arms around Joel’s leg and hovered over his boot . Joel usually had patience but not today he lifted his foot so the boot met your cunt , it felt wrong . Bad . But the pressure felt so good. You began to roll your hips down onto his boot, the hard shoe adding pressure to all the right places.

You gripped his muscular leg harder as you tried to chase some sort of high , Joel usually would help you , says you don’t know what you’re doing but you trying things on your own felt good too. “Daddy.. I want more, boots not like your cock” you pouted hoping to have this one over Joel on most nights this would’ve worked but not tonight . “You’re lucky I’m even lettin you do this. I could’ve just sent you to bed, empty stomach and untouched pussy. I know you’ve been waitin all day to be touched. Achin’ for it aren’t you?” He was still angry with you but you were his baby he knew you couldn’t sleep properly without being touched .

You nodded , “need my daddy” your hips stuttered as you continued to grind down on him , pussy leaking through the cotton panties you had on soaking his shoe . Your small whimpers filling the otherwise silent room , Joel’s patience was wearing thin he palmed his hardening cock through the denim . A part of him really loved how pathetic you were at times only could get off with his help he always needed to help you. He gripped your arm with a bruising grip pulling you up leading you to the living room . “Can’t do anythin for yourself” he said sitting down on the couch his legs parting he held his hand up stopping you from sitting down , “take it all off for me honey” you just nodded as you started to undress in front of him before standing awkwardly barren and naked for his eyes to coast over you .

He patted his thighs , “come sit let daddy take care of you” . You smiled crawling onto him he turned you so your back was facing him and he slid his rough hands down your sides . Bringing one arm over you cupping your breast in one hand pulling you back into him as he slid his hand down and cupped your sex before lifting it and coming down with a swift slap which you yelped at the sting lingering as he smiled against your neck pressing a kiss down onto your shoulder , “shhh baby I know I know I’m being mean” he began circling your clit using the pads of his middle and ring fingers before trailing down your slit collecting all of your slick wetness and spreading it up your cunt , “this wet from grinding on my boot? You did miss daddy didn’t you?” . You whined and pouted , “I told you daddy but you didn listen” . He smiled once more , “sorry sweet girl ‘m listenin now” he pressed only one of his thick fingers inside you without warning and you bucked your hips into his hand mewling like a cat. “That feel good? Been waitin all day haven’t you” .

He then inserted a second finger in stretching out your sopping hole , everything about Joel as just so big compared to you it’s why you always felt so safe with him although he was tough on you , mean at times but he fucked you so good. “When do I get your cock daddy?” You said between whimpers as he pumped his fingers in and out of you curling up to press against your velvety gummy walls. Always so impatient , but who could blame you? You loved the way Joel stretched you out, it hurt so good always rewarding you with his cum, it was like a warm hug from the inside.

He clicked his tongue , “so cock hungry, let me just play with you for a minute ,why don’t you?” He would alternate from his fingers being inside you to rubbing your clit as his fingers lazily groped and played with your tits . Joel liked this a lot just playing with you , hearing your small moans the way you’d sit and squirm on him . Wasn’t this supposed to be him fixing your attitude? He was just giving into you. This old man is getting soft.

You began to squirm more , moans becoming more persistent. Your hands gripping Joel’s scarred thick forearms. Your thighs clamping shut around Joel’s hand making him slap your cunt once more , “try to close your legs again and I won’t let you have my cock tonight” you pouted and whined at the sting before spreading your legs once more , joel loved how obedient you would be . He kissed a trail down your neck to your shoulder , being tickled by his rough facial hair . His fingers still pumping inside you like a well oiled machine , your head falling back onto him as the coil inside you began to unravel more until it finally snapped. Your thighs shaking as you had full body convulsions on his lap , your cunt clamping around his fingers as he kept curling them up inside you making you ride out your orgasm. “Good girl always cum so hard f’me , you think you deserve your old man’s dick now?”

You nodded , words still on the end of your tongue but you were in such a euphoric state your body didn’t allow sentence much more than a babble escape your mouth . He lightly moved you off of his lap , sucking on his fingers before reaching for his belt buckle . You heard the metal clang tighter before he pulled the belt through the loops and took it off completely . Undoing his button and letting you hear your favorite sound of the zip being pulled down. You loved that sound it meant you were in for a treat. Your nightly sometimes morning routine.

He pulled his jeans down just enough for his thick cock and heavy balls were free , he then pulled your now pretty much limp body onto him. Thighs either side of his , “do you wanna help daddy or do you just want me to do it” he asked like he always did in this position . You shook your head and just wrapped your arms around his neck burying your face inhaling his musk, “daddy do it” you said muffled. Joel obliged taking his dick in one hand as he held you steady with the other . Although he did just stretch you out with his fingers it was no help he was just too thick. He always has been too big for you but you both loved the stretch. His throbbing head trying to push its hardest into you , you just whined in pain into Joel’s neck . He moved his free hand from your hip to your back rubbing up and down trying to soothe you , “ I know I’ll make you feel good just push through this pain for a minute for me won’t you honey?” . His hands now both shifting to your hips as he began to push you down onto his cock , his hips lifting to meet you half way . Your eyes squeezed shut from the pain and you bit down onto his traps . Joel didn’t mind you biting in fact he liked it just a little. When he had finally fit all of himself inside you he let you settle for a moment , adjusting to the size just as he always did .

When you said you had adjusted enough he lifted your hips once more leaving a small gap between the two of you before he began fucking his cock into you from under you . You loved doing this with Joel because his cock pummelled your insides hitting all the right places making you squeeze down on him , moaning his name into his ear like a mantra . How your fingers found their way in his hair and his iron clad grip on your hips , a bruising grip but he always made sure to kiss them better after. You arched your back pressing your chest into his , his lips on your neck feeling his hot breath fanning over your collarbones .

You loved how he fucked you like you was his personal sex doll , he knew how to please you. Only him. He knew it could only ever be him that would suffice your urges. “Takin it so well for me baby, fuck- don’t think I can make this a long one tonight princess. Jus’ wanna cum in this little pussy . Made for me to fill isn it?” He panted against you. You were fucked utterly pathetic at this point babbles just poured out of your mouth not being able to respond to him properly . Joel’s hips jerked and spluttered filling you with thick ropes of his warm cum . You fell limp against him as he pressed a kiss to your head , he lifted your hips once more as he put his now half hard cock back into his jeans he didn’t care that his cum was spilling out of your onto said jeans .

He lifted you with ease into his arms so you were laid bridal style over him as your thigh muscles still contracted and spasmed . He then stood up you still in his arms , his joints popping as he stood they got louder with age . He began to carry you upstairs to the bathroom to give you both a bath . Walking up the stairs he spoke up , “how about before my shift tomorrow we go to the bakery a pick up a loaf of bread and I’ll talk to Bonnie about a job. Part time. How would you feel about that baby?”

You always got your way in the end. That old man is just too soft on you really. You’re just his baby after all .

[a-pute11as]

i like you, dummy - kika nazareth

word count - 4.5k | summary - you were never really sure if kika's flirting was for show or not, until a game of truth or dare and a spurt of confidence gets you your answer. part 2 can be found here.

“kika i’m home!” you announced, walking into your shared apartment and dropping your bag to the floor as you slipped your shoes off. 

you sighed, automatically removing your hair from the tight ponytail you had put it in for training, your kit still clinging to your body as you were desperate to get home and stop your headache getting any worse. 

standing still for a moment, you let your eyes shut as you raked your fingers through your head, any desperate attempt to ease the tension pounding through your head. you stepped into the kitchen, needing some kind of cold liquid to soothe the sensation. grabbing a bottle of ice cold water, you opened it, quickly taking a gulp as you let the cold water somewhat calm your senses. 

that’s when you realised how quiet your apartment was, ridiculously quiet considering kika had been home from rehab for hours. normally music would be blasting as she sat on her laptop or a show would fill the silence. today it was nothing. it was possible that she had gone out for coffee with one of the other girls, but usually she would text you. 

“kika where are you?” you called out again, starting the painfully slow walk down the hallway, to the living room, knowing any quicker would send intense spells of dizziness to your head. 

“aqui chica!” she finally responded, her voice travelling from the living room, well at least she was home. 

“my head hurts so much, medical said i should sleep but i don’t even know if i can lay down without it hurting my mo-“ your sentence was cut short as your eyes fixated on a sight that took your breath away completely. 

leaning on her crutches, her phone pointed at her reflection in the mirror, she posed as she showed off the white, green and red pattern bikini she had recently bought. she had told you the green and red reminded her of the portugal flag, stating that wearing it during the offseason would be the perfect excuse to buy it, but you agreed with her no matter what she said purely so you could see it against her tanned skin with your own eyes. 

she didn’t pay much notice to you, not turning to meet your arrival, instead adjusting herself slightly as she continued her photo session. her lack of attention on you allowed your eyes to roam the view you had stumbled upon. 

the bikini fit her perfectly, the green strings sat high on her hips as it hugged her lower body perfectly. while the top had a scoop neckline that bought innocent attention to the slight cleavage that it revealed. against her skin, the colours burst to light, complimenting everything about her, to her toned abs to her gold necklaces that she only took off for matches. 

you couldn’t help but let your eyes wander, appreciating the sight in front of you with every inch of your being. 

“oye have you gone deaf?” kika said, snapping you out of your deep gaze as she clicked her fingers in front of you. 

“what?” you blankly questioned, trying to avoid the heat from rising to your cheeks whilst stopping your eyes from dipping any lower as she looked at you. 

“i asked you like 3 times, do you like it?” she interrogated, referencing the sight you had just been staring at so intensely. 

“y-yes of course i do, it looks really nice” you spoke so quickly that you weren’t even sure she’d have time to translate it before moving onto the next topic, “how was rehab?” you quickly diverted, your hands fiddling with the hem of your shirt as you tried to clear your mind of the insanely inappropriate thoughts in your mind. 

“no no, i need actual opinions, like the colour looks good, or the top is too tight.” she expanded, rolling her eyes as she directed herself back towards the mirror, tugging on the fabric as she inspected it. 

your lips pursed as you watched how her hands glided across her body, fiddling with different aspects of the minimal fabric she was wearing. 

“so?” she pressed, her eyes darting at you through the reflection of the mirror. 

“i think the colours are beautiful, they really uh pop against your skin, it looks like it fits really…” your breath bitched slightly “really well and uhm i like that it goes with your necklaces” 

“are you sure?” she shrugged, an unsatisfied look falling onto her face. 

taking a deep breath as you looked towards the floor, there was a possibility you’d regret the next things to leave your mouth “you look really good.” you muttered, it wasn’t quite the words you wanted to leave your mouth but close enough. 

“que?” kika turned herself in your direction and raised an eyebrow, you couldn’t tell if she heard you and was just pressing you to hear it again, or she actually didn’t hear it. 

“you look really good, kika, like really good.” your cheeks flushed a deep red as the words came out louder than expected, a shine of sweat across your forehead from the sheer withhold you had on the situation. 

“no need to shout amor, i’m glad you like it though” she winked, before studying your face, her head tilted as her tongue flicked across her bottom lip, “liked it that much that you’ve gone red and sweaty?” kika mocked, reaching her hand up to your face that you quickly smacked away before it got too close. 

“shut up, i just finished training,” you hissed, your face going an even deeper red, “what time are the girls coming over?” you tried to divert the conversation again, now looking anywhere but the women stood in front of you. 

“no no, you’ve gone really red, what are you thinking in that head?” she teased, taking a shuffle forward as her eyes stared deep into you. 

“n-nothing,” you defended, your voice raising slightly before you shook your head, “i’m going to shower, put some clothes on before everyone comes over.” you walked in the direction of your room. 

“i thought you liked this view better, querida.” she laughed, her eyes tracking your direction. 

“shut up nazareth.” you stuck your middle finger up in her direction, not bothering to turn around and show her your beet red face anymore. 

closing the door behind you quickly, you pulled your phone out your pocket, instantly pressing onto the messaging app your fingers quickly typed away. 

you - i’m going to fucking crash out, i walked in and she was in a fucking bikini???? i swear i nearly saw the fucking light, i can’t keep doing this

ellie 🩵 - ooh she sent me pictures of it, it’s very pretty, i bet that was a great thing to talk into

you - ellie please let me move in with you, i can’t keep doing this, she asked me for a shoulder massage the other day and then asked why my hands were shaking

ellie 🩵- she’s doing it on purpose you twat, she knows exactly how you feel and she feels the same way 

you - there’s no way, she just likes seeing me get flustered i swear

throwing your phone on your bed, you let out a deep sigh. thank god you had an ensuite bathroom because there was no way you were walking back out there like this. taking a quick shower you changed into some semi-decent clothes, never knowing how casual to dress when it came to the girls coming round to play games. it was either joggers and a hoodie, or 400 euro jeans and a top that had been specifically made for them. 

hesitantly walking out to your living room, you were met with kika, wearing actual clothes, watching her recent netflix obsession. her booted ankle propped up on the sofa, as she leant back into the corner.

“finally! come watch with me.” she smiled, patting the spot on the sofa next to her. 

you hovered awkwardly near the sofa, eyes darting between kika and the netflix show playing quietly behind her. she looked so relaxed, curled into the corner with a blanket over her lap. her expression softened when she saw you still standing.

“come on, i won’t bite, unless you ask nicely,” she added with a teasing grin.

you rolled your eyes, finally dropping down onto the couch, shoulders heavy from training, head still pounding. you kept a careful distance, but kika noticed anyway. she tilted her head slightly.

“you look dead,” she said, like it was a casual observation.

“thanks.” you muttered.

“i mean that in a concerned, loving way,” she added, sarcastically sincere. “lie down before your brain melts.”

your body refused to move, lie down where? on her lap?

“come here.” she tugged gently on your arm. you didn’t resist as she guided your head to her lap, her thighs surprisingly soft beneath you despite the toned muscle you knew was under there.

“you’re ridiculous,” you mumbled, but you didn’t move.

“and you’re exhausted.” she replied, brushing her fingers through your hair without hesitation. the simple touch made your whole body freeze for half a second, but you didn’t say anything. couldn’t. not when it felt that good.

her fingers moved slowly, threading through strands and lightly scratching your scalp. you hated how easy it was to melt under her touch. hated that this wasn’t the first time she’d done something like this, and definitely not the first time your heart had started pounding because of her.

“training was rough?” she asked quietly.

you nodded against her lap, eyes fluttering shut. “long day. nothing new except the extra laps i had to do for being late.”

there was a beat of silence.

“i miss it,” she said softly. “the noise. the pitch. even the boring warm-ups.”

you opened your eyes just enough to glance up at her, catching the way she stared blankly at the paused tv. she looked calm, but you could see the tension in her jaw. she hated being sidelined, more than she’d tell you.

“you’ll be back before you know it.” you said, your voice quieter now, softer.

kika hummed like she didn’t believe you, but her fingers didn’t stop.

“you’re a good liar,” she murmured after a moment.

you didn’t respond to that. mostly because she wasn’t wrong, she still had months of recovering left and that was only if everything followed the plan.

the silence settled again, not heavy, but thick with everything you refused to say. you could feel her watching you from above, and it made your cheeks warm, but you didn’t move.

the moment was broken by a loud knock on the door, followed by a very familiar voice yelling, “we brought snacks!”

kika sighed and rolled her eyes, “of course.”

you groaned as you sat up, stretching your sore arms. “i swear ellie has a sixth sense for interrupting at the worst times.”

“she has a sixth sense for a lot of things,” kika said, eyeing you as she adjusted the blanket over her lap.

you froze, trying not to read too far into that.

“don’t give me that look,” you said quickly, brushing your hair back and heading for the door, “nothing was happening.”

“didn’t say anything was,” kika shrugged, smugness already dripping from her voice.

you opened the door to find ellie and a few of the other girls already kicking their shoes off, arms full of snacks and more energy than you wanted to deal with. ellie gave you a once-over, her eyes narrowing slightly.

“your face is red,” she said.

“it’s hot out, we live in barcelona now, remember” you deadpanned.

“it’s been raining all day” her eyebrow raised at your words, a smirk flickering across her face.

“shut up, ellie.”

your living room was quickly filled with your team members, filling your coffee table with snacks as a pile of card games were flung out of ellie’s bag. of course the girls sat conveniently so your only option was right next to kika. even the good floor space had been taken by jana, salma and esmee. 

you wiggled yourself down, reaching for a bag of doritos, resting them on your lap as you snacked on them. the room was full of several conversations, ones you were zoning in and out of, until there was a unanimous silence in the room. 

“so comfy sofa, incredibly red face, suspicious timing, anything you wanna share with the group?” ellie grinned, her eyes focusing into the direction of you and kika. 

you blinked, “i.. what? i was literally laying down, i have a headache so i wanted some kind of rest before you guys took over my house.”

“were you laying on top of kika then?” salma interrupted, sending a knowing elbow to jana, who had been sat next to her.

“nena come on, even your hair was messy.” patri laughed from the other end of the sofa, her eyebrows wiggling as she spoke. 

“we were watching netflix,” you huffed, busying yourself with the doritos in your lap, “you’re all so annoying.” you muttered. 

you watched as esmee whispered something in jana’s ear, the two of them in fits of laughter. you didn’t bother asking, not wanting to hear the filth that was leaving their mouths. 

“let the girl breathe.” kika mocked, as if she wasn’t enjoying this far too much. 

ellie leaned back, arm stretched over the back of the couch. “she can breathe, just not when you’re within a two-meter radius apparently.”

you sent her a sharp punch to the arm, alongside a death glare, which she absolutely ignored. 

“she was lying on me like i’m her personal mattress,” kika added casually, popping a dorito into her mouth.

your entire body stiffened as you turned to face her, “you literally told me to.”

“did i?” she asked innocently, but the little glint in her eye told you everything.

the girls around you burst into fits of laughter, the urge to hide yourself away for the rest of the evening was incredibly tempting yet you couldn’t help but smile at the laughter that surrounded you. kika sent you a smug grin, knowing full well she had caused this commotion. 

“can we just play some games?” you groaned into your hands, which were now covering your face as the girls around you continued laughing.

their laughter finally died down, as ellie picked up a pack of cards, “how about truth or dare?”

“ellie we played this in england camp when we were like 14, we are adults here.” you rolled your eyes, assuming the girls would be on your side.

“would seven minutes in heaven suit you better?” ellie retorted, her eyebrow raising as she made the suggestion. 

your face dropped, your cheeks immediately flushing a bright red as your brain short circuited trying to think of a response.

ellie quickly shook off her smug look, noticing the deafening silence in the room around her, “okay so truth or dare or cards?” she asked.

“truth or dare, i think it would be fun.” jana confirmed, the other girls agreeing with her. 

“are you scared of something?” patri asked, wiggling her eyebrows in your direction. 

“no, i just thought we would be playing something that was actually fun.” you shrugged, continuing to eat the doritos on your lap, but in reality you were scared this game would be the thing to make you crack.

maybe part of you agreed that kika did have feelings for you, and you knew for certain that you had feelings for her, but part of you couldn’t shake the feeling that her endless teasing was just a show. as if she was playing a part to your friends around the two of you to keep them entertained, but she still continued her attempts to make you flush red in private.

ellie shuffled the deck of cards, explaining that each person would take a card, and whoever had the highest would be able to ask anyone in the room ‘truth or dare’. the first few rounds were relatively harmless, ona had to sing her favourite song with an interpretive dance, jana admitted having a crush on her pe teacher, and esmee dared salma to text her ex something mildly suggestive to then say ‘wrong number’. the usual, only slightly unhinged things. 

and then ellie pulled the highest card, the queen of hearts, her eyes immediately locked on kika.

“oh no.” you muttered, sinking into the sofa cushions, hoping they’d swallow you whole.

“truth.” kika raised an eyebrow, completely unphased to the pending question.

“boring.” salma sang, her hand resting on her chin as she chimed in. 

ellie smirked, sitting up straighter, “okay, if you had to kiss someone in this room, completely hypothetically, who would it be?”

you choked on your drink, but kika didn’t look away from ellie, instead her smile twitched as if she was very aware of the way you were going rigid beside her. 

kika didn’t say anything for a second. she tilted her head like she was actually thinking about it, then turned to look at you with an expression so unreadable it made your stomach flip.

you felt every pair of eyes in the room watching. you froze in her gaze. 

“i think we all know the answer to that.” she flung her arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer into her touch as your eyes widened.

your teammates howled, and if that wasn’t a confession, you don’t know what is, you sent a wide eyed look to ellie, unsure of what to do. 

“she meant you dumbass,” ellie laughed, grabbing a pillow and hitting your arm with it. 

“shut up, i know what she meant!” you yelped, your face now the same shade as the doritos packed you had been previously munching on. 

“it’s true amor.” kika mumbled into your ear as the rest of the girls continued with the game, her hand lazily drawing patterns on your shoulder, helping you relax into her embrace.

the game continued, jana attempting to do a handstand, which would’ve had your physio’s eyes bulging out of their heads, whilst salma tried to feed her a strawberry as she was upside down. 

and that’s when it fell on patri, a determined smirk across her face as she instantly locked eyes with you, “truth or dare.”

“dare.” it slipped out without you even thinking, you were sure your brain just repeated the last thing you had heard rather than putting any actual consideration into it. you could’ve chose the easier option, the safer one, but you betrayed yourself quickly.

an amused look fell upon patri’s face, as if she wasn’t expecting your answer, ellie leant over, whispering something in patri’s ear before her face lit up even more, “give kika a massage.”

your eyes shot to ellie as your mouth gaped open slightly, “i hate you.” you mimed, ellie simply sending a sweet smile in return.

“is that okay with you?” kika asked, barely above a whisper causing you to turn and face her direction, kika would tease you until the world fell apart but knowing you were comfortable was always the most important thing to her.

you nodded in return, appearing to be somewhat confident yet your hands immediately started their routine of beginning to shake as soon as you got close to her. 

she sent you a reassuring smile in return, she could probably sense some of your anxiety, she had gotten ridiculously good at that since the two of you started living together at the start of the season. with that she turned her body round, scooping her hair and bringing it to one side of her neck, tugging slightly at her oversized sweatshirt as she did so. 

you inched forward. your fingers found her shoulders, tense and warm beneath the fabric of her shirt. she hummed as you started to knead gently at the knots in her muscles, trying to ignore the sheer proximity of the two of you. and then her head tilted, and she let out the softest moan when you hit the right spot. you swallowed hard, trying to keep some kind of composure at the sounds that left her.

“god, your hands are shaking again,” she murmured, just loud enough for you to hear. 

you froze for half a second, “shut up,” you said through gritted teeth.

“we both know that’s not what you want.” kika whispered teasingly. you swore you were going to lose your mind if you didn’t take your hands of her skin. 

begrudgingly you dropped your hands, your heart sinking to your stomach as you did, readjusting yourself so you were back in your original position as kika did the same.

the room was silent. 

“so should we leave now so you guys can fuck or?” patri teased, causing the girls to resume their everlasting laughter. 

kika didn’t say anything, she simply sent you a look over her shoulder with her stupid little smirk that could make you fall to your knees at an instant. 

you were in so much trouble.

the noise slowly disappeared as your friends filtered out, saying their goodbyes in small clusters whilst patri asked you to be quiet for the neighbours sake.

you stepped into the kitchen for a moment, letting out a long breath, one hand dragging down your face as you leaned back against the wall. 

“you good?” a familiar voice asked, of course it was ellie. 

you glanced at her with narrowed eyes, “i’m not answering that.”

“that bad?” she asked with a grin that could’ve tipped you over the edge.

you simply shrugged, not able to find the words to actually explain what was going on. you sighed and crossed your arms. “i just don’t know if i’m ready.”

ellie studied you for a moment, then nodded. “i know. and she knows. that’s why she doesn’t push”

your eyes flicked towards your front door where kika was now showing jana something on her phone, pretending not to listen even though you could see the corner of her mouth twitching with the effort not to smile.

“she pushes in her own way.” you muttered.

ellie laughed softly, “yeah, but it’s never to hurt you. you know that, right?”

you nodded slowly, “yeah, i know, thanks for not making it worse.”

ellie winked as she headed for the door, “i’ll save that for training tomorrow.”

and with that, she disappeared, leaving you alone in the quiet of your apartment. well not really alone, kika had now moved back into the living room and had gotten comfortable on the sofa. 

following her lead, you slumped down on the sofa, letting out an over exaggerated sigh. 

“i’m surprised you aren’t still red from all that teasing.” kika mocked, a smug grin on her face. 

“you’re just as bad as the rest of them, no in fact, you’re worse than all of them.” you narrowed your eyes in her direction. of course she was the instigator of all of it, even if ellie and the other girls spurred it on with everything they had. 

“it’s because it’s obvious.” she shrugged, her eyes drifting to the tv, it was some kind of reality show that was being used to make background noise. 

“what’s obvious?” you asked, a deadpan look on your face as your eyes stared into the side of her head. 

she simply shrugged her shoulders again, a small laugh added this time, denying you of any verbal answer. 

“kika, do not ignore me.” you huffed, frustration evident in your voice, but she still didn’t grant you a reply. 

standing up, you walked over the tv, turning it off and standing directly in front of her. 

“hey, it was getting to a good part!” kika defended, reaching for the remote but you were quicker to grab it. 

the two of you stared at each other for a moment before kika sighed and leaned forward, now looking up at you, “do you really want me to say it?”

“well i’m missing something that is so obvious to everyone else so yeah say it,” your arms crossed in front of your chest.

“i like you,” she declared, “like, a lot.” 

you blinked, letting out a short laugh “well yeah i’d hope so, we’ve been living together for months, it’d be a bit worrying if you didn’t.” your arms now dropping to the side as you relaxed slightly.

“no, you idiot,” she said, shaking her head, a smile creeping onto her face, “i like you. i like how oblivious you are. i like the way your cheeks go so red when people are teasing you, or how you scrunch up your nose when you’re trying to deny something. i like that every night since my injury you’ve laid in bed with me to make sure i can sleep or checked i’ve taken my medication and done my rehab.” 

she barely paused for a breath, words spilling out as she continued to ramble.

“i like how much you care about everyone, how you show love in quiet little ways. i like how you can’t walk past a cat without petting it. i like how you walk around the apartment in my hoodies like they belong to you. i like how you make my water exactly how i like it, without ever needing to ask. i like your laugh, your smile, your eyes, honestly your whole face. i just… like you.” she took a deep breath, the first one she had taken in what felt like hours,

 “i like you, dummy" her soft smile lighting up her face "so much more than just friends.”

you stared at her, stunned, jaw practically on the floor, “why didn’t you tell me?”

“amor, i have not been subtle” she laughed, standing slowly. your arms instantly shot out to steady her, offering an anchor of stability as she stood in front of you. “somehow you never got my hints, even when i told you i wanted to kiss you” 

then out of nowhere a spurt of confidence appeared, “so kiss me”. 

“que?” she blinked, surprised at your sudden boost of bravery. 

“i said kiss me” you repeated, “if you want to“ 

you didn’t even finish the sentence before her hands cupped your face and her lips met yours. the kiss was soft, almost hesitant, like time itself had paused to watch. your whole body melted into hers, hands resting on her waist, moving together as if you’d done it a thousand times before.

when she finally pulled back, both of you were smiling like idiots. she pressed her forehead against yours.

“so i’m assuming you like me too,” kika suggested, her thumbs brushing over your cheeks.

you let out a breathless laugh, “i guess you could say that.” 

“you know they’ll never stop teasing you about this.” kika muttered. 

you threw your head back, groaning as you did, “i know.”

“neither will i.” she grinned, eyes gleaming as if she’d won a trophy, looking entirely too proud of herself. 

you glanced at her, shaking your head but smiling anyway. she was so pleased with herself, her usual smirk on her face as if she knew exactly how this would end.

maybe the teasing wasn’t such a bad thing.

a/n - part 2 thank you for reading! as usual any feedback is always appreciated, my asks are open!

[kooberryfields4ever]

lucky

hello !!!!!!! was not expecting this to get as long as it did nor did i expect the turn but what can i say i am a creature driven by self satisfaction……… :( anyways originally this was gonna be like a 1k max drabble bc i rewatched jks sleepy eepy sweetie live and he was twitching and looked so pretty that i HAD to write something domestic !!!! but i am an ANIMAL and thinking about jungkook sleepy in the morning made me feral😇 hope u enjoy!!!!!!!!

wc: 2500+

content warnings : fluff & smut below the cut, light nipple play, fingering, jungkook has a cute panty kink(?), jungkook is an unstoppable force, unprotected piv sex, gendered terms (the word “girl” is used & detailed desc of female anatomy), messy orgasm

MDNI !

You’ve been awake for ten minutes now, just watching Jungkook twitch in his slumber. It’s early morning – a little after 8:00AM – and he looks so unbelievably beautiful under the gentle sunlight flittering through the blinds. With a soft smile on your lips, your eyes trail over his eyebrows, paying attention to how they raise and drop in his unconsciousness, moving down to his relaxed jaw and the divots of his shoulder blades when your gaze lowers. The gentle rise and fall of his back as he breathes and the fist that keeps clenching and unclenching while you lay beside him makes your smile widen. Jungkook is a breath-taking sight, looking so at peace while you observe him. His muscles are softer in their unflexed state and you can’t help it when your finger finds his right triceps and paints shapes over it. His tattoos are next on your list of targets, and soon your wandering finger is tracing the inked motifs like you’re re-carving them into his skin, following the lines and curves of the patterns as if they were new to you.  

They are very much not new to you, though. You think you’ve studied them over a hundred times, committed them to memory, made them so indelible in your mind that you’re sure you could redraw them perfectly if he ever asked. You chance at moving your touch to his fingers, watching his face amusedly when you lift his hand to inspect them and he furrows his brow. The soft letters adorning the bones of his joints are met with the pad of your thumb as you stroke them adoringly, fighting the desperate urge to kiss his calloused palm when the tips of your fingers press against the rough skin. Your fingers don’t get to explore for long before he opens a single eye suspiciously, curling his fingers around your hand to stop you. 

“Good morning,” his voice is deeper, sluggish, yet gentle still through the rasp. “You having fun?” 

“I was,” you smirk, intertwining your fingers with his instinctually, “until you so rudely interrupted me.” His thumb rubs your knuckles sleepily, bringing them to his lips for a chaste kiss, turning onto his back, pulling you closer to his chest and tucking his other hand behind his head. 

“Mm, my bad.” Comes his short reply, blinking his eyes open once again to find yours. His fingers card through your hair when you sit up on your elbows, leaning against his solid frame. His tongue darts out to lick his bottom lip while you allow yourself to continue observing him from above now that he’s awake.  

“Do you know you twitch a lot in your sleep?” You ask, reaching over to rub some sleep from the corner of his eye. Your thumb runs over his cheek, then down to his lower lip, dragging it down playfully and watching it bounce back when you let go abruptly. He shakes his head slightly to answer your question but sits quietly, content to just let you fiddle, fondly mirroring the smile you offer him when you lean forward to press your foreheads together. “I should’ve filmed it. You almost knocked me out.” 

“Instead of leaving me in peace?” He quirks a brow, tilting his head back to press a kiss to your lips quickly before lowering it again. “I don’t think I’m capable of hurting you, even if I’m unconscious. It’s written out of my biological code.”  

You giggle, shaking your head. “As if I would’ve let you anyway, we both know I'd win in a fight.” 

Your lips chase his naturally, and he hums sweetly when you connect them again, smirking. “Is that a challenge?” He mumbles into your mouth, you feel his hands snake around your waist, pulling you closer still before flipping you onto your back effortlessly. He continues kissing you like that. 

“Because I really beg to differ,” he ruses, trailing a hand down to the back of your thigh to hold your leg up against his hip. “Think I’d win in a heartbeat.” Another kiss. “How easy was it for me to get you like this?” His hips move against yours in a slow motion, making you very aware of a growing presence between his legs as it presses against you through all your layers of clothing. 

“You play dirty, that’s why,” you joke back, pushing your palm against his forehead. He moves away from your lips to attach his mouth to your neck, kissing down to your collarbone delicately, the same way your fingers did to him minutes ago. “Caught me off guard, that’s- that’s not fair,” the small moan that leaves you after your stutter is unintentional. Curse Jungkook and how easily your body gives in to his ministrations. You loathe the way he seems to revel in it too, snickering when he moves his hips again. 

You lean your head back against the pillows when he pushes your tank top up over your tits and you can feel his lips enclose around your nipple. It’s not a fair fight, Jungkook knows that. Knows that when his teeth brush against the darker flesh it’ll pebble against his tongue. Knows that when his hands slip down past your waist and hips, your legs will spread instinctually for him. Knows that when your fingers tangle in his hair, he’s got you.  

“Could die between your tits,” His muffled voice knocks you out of your pleasured trance, and you hum in acknowledgement. He’s resting his face between your breasts rather lovingly now, kissing the skin between them with a hand on your waist. The hand tangled in his hair falls to his nape, scratching at the baby hairs grown out from his last haircut.  

“I wouldn’t encourage you to.” 

“Couldn’t be the worst fate.” 

His response has you rolling your eyes, “No, a worse fate would be me beating you to a pulp because you thought you’d win in a wrestling match against me.” He chuckles, looking up at you and resting his chin on your chest with a soft pout. 

“Seemed to like my approach a second ago,” he murmurs, crawling back up your body to kiss you again. There’s no underlying motive behind it, he just really likes your lips on his. You give in because, despite your argumentative nature, you like his lips too. He kisses you lazily, knee slotted between your legs, half-heartedly holding his body up to stop himself from leaning all of his weight on you. Your arms drape naturally over his shoulders and around his neck to keep him there, and you can feel his smile against your lips. 

“You still hard?” His only response is the subtle grind of his hips against yours in affirmation and a slight lowering of his hand on your waist, on a slow but steady mission. 

“Should I be offended that you don’t seem to be doing anything about it?” 

“Gettin’ to it, jus’ let me kiss you.” He licks into your mouth sweetly, chasing the taste of you. Tries to pull you impossibly closer when you chuckle, spurring him on even more. He bites your lower lip, his wandering hand finally slipping past the waistband of your pyjama pants and brushing over your underwear. You can feel him smirk when he finds the small bow on the front, parting from your lips to slip your pants down to get a good look at them. They’re childish, pink and polka dotted and old; you’ve had them since before you and Jungkook even started dating but hardly wear them anymore. 

“Cute.” Is all he says, and you roll your eyes before reaching down to pull them off. He grabs your wrists, meeting your eyes sternly. “Keep ‘em on.” 

You slip your hands from his grasp, nodding hesitantly but obediently. You watch him curiously when he focuses his entire attention on your clothed pussy, entranced by it, pressing his fingers against the damp fabric to watch it cling to the shape of you, darkening with your arousal. 

“Fuck, they’re so cute, baby,” he babbles, not really even speaking directly to you, just thinking out loud, “can I fuck you with them on?” He asks sweetly, kissing your chest and keeping an eye on you as he waits for your answer. You nod, combing your fingers through his hair when he peppers more kisses across your tits as a thank you. He pushes the fabric aside slightly to gain access to your pussy with no restrictions, not hesitating to sink his middle and index fingers past your opening. He knows you’re wet enough, preening when he hears your breaths turn to soft moans. He’s so familiar with your body now that curling his fingers up against your g-spot is second nature to him. You encourage him wordlessly, watching him work while his head still rests on your chest.  

He knows you, so when you start to tighten around him and your moans turn into held breaths, he withdraws from you. You go to protest, furrowing your brow annoyedly, but he shushes you.  

“Gonna have you come on my dick, baby.” There’s a brief pause while he separates from you to push his boxers down and take your pyjamas bottoms fully off too, grunting when he strokes himself languidly above you before rubbing his tip between your dripping folds, still fascinated by the panties he made you keep on. 

“So pretty,” he coos, and for lack of better judgement, you nod. “So fuckin’ wet, love when you get like this for me. All for me.” He’s egging you on, coating himself in your arousal and pressing his forehead to yours when he sinks the mushroom tip of his cock past your opening. It’s calculated and slow, you think it’s to tease you, to prolong your frustration even longer; truthfully, it’s because Jungkook is embarrassingly close and wants to make himself last as long as he can. 

“You wore these the first time I fucked you,” he admits, sinking deeper into your walls and breathing against your lips, “all I could think about for the rest of that week was getting to fuck you again, you were so perfect.” He pulls out slowly, before pushing back in, deeper this time. You let out a half-moan, half-breath, and he repeats until he’s fully seated inside of you. 

“Wanted to fuck you with them on then, too, thought they were so cute.” 

“Why didn’t you?” 

“Thought it was pervy, thinking your panties were cute and wanting to keep them on,” he chuckles, kissing you gently and quickening the pace of his hips to fuck you faster, “think you would’ve thought I was a creep, wouldn’t have let me. Was easier to make you think I just wanted to take my time undressing you.” 

“You’re right, I wouldn’t have.” 

“Mm, you’re well trained now.” 

His words get him a slap at the back of his head, and he laughs with you. The amusement doesn’t last long however, and soon he’s hiding his face in your shoulder to piston his cock in and out of you. You curse under your breath, letting him grip your thigh to guide your knee to your chest, wanting to fuck you deeper. He tuts, frustrated at the fact that he can’t get as deep as he wants, and soon your knees are over his shoulders with his hands holding your hips while he fucks you vigorously. He’s grunting animalistically, his tip prodding your cervix over and over, the corona of his cock rubbing deliciously against your g-spot every time he pulls back.  

“Touch yourself.” He instructs from your shoulder. It’s gentle, you know he doesn’t mean to come across as commanding but you like it anyway. You’re quick to obey, of course, and soon you’re trailing a hand down to your own pussy to start rubbing at your clit. He wants you to finish, that much is apparent, and you assume it’s because he’s trying to hold off his own orgasm for you. It’s wordless between you when you feel the familiar band in your stomach begin to tighten, and your free hand wanders across his broad back, digging your fingernails into his shoulder blades in such a contrasting way to how you were so gentle only ten minutes ago. He grunts, knows you’re close because you’re clenching around him and he can feel you holding your breath. He kisses your collarbone as silent encouragement, and a few more strokes has you coming undone around him, finally releasing your breath and pulsing around him in a way that has you nearly pushing him out. 

“Gonna come, where you want it?” He asks quietly, knows your answer but wants to hear it. You always want it inside, and Jungkook is always more than happy to oblige. 

“On my panties.” Comes your surprising reply, and Jungkook’s pupils dilate to proportions you didn’t think were physically possible. He stops moving, dropping his grip on your hips to brace his hands against the sides of your head and hold himself up above you.  

“I think I’m gonna throw up,” he jokes, dipping down to kiss you fervently, picking up the pace of his hips again, “you’re so fucking perfect, you want me to come all over your panties, baby? Want me to make a mess?” 

You’re not stupid, you know as much as the next girl that if there’s anything a man likes more than coming inside, it’s staking his claim. Of course, semen washes off - but the thought of Jungkook painting your panties white even makes your stomach flip. You nod, and he doesn’t need any more persuasion before he pulls out of you and sits up in order to stroke himself, a singular goal in mind. Your panties are still tucked to the side so he can see all of you as his fist pumps his cock quickly. You observe him, his cock is still wet from your arousal and his tip is so swollen and red that you’re unsure how he lasted even this long. As expected, he doesn’t last very long, and soon thick white ropes of come are shooting from his tip and coating your pussy and the fabric of your panties. He’s shuddering, curling over on himself before collapsing beside you on the bed. 

“C’mere,” he pants out, slipping his arms around your middle and pulling you toward him, “this was your plan all along, wasn’t it?” 

“Really wasn’t, I was doting on you.” 

“Feeling me up is ‘doting’ now?” 

You push him away playfully, but he keeps his grip on you, laughing when you turn around to get away from him. He pulls you back towards him and spoons you.  

“I was being cute and you made it pervy, like always.” He can hear the pout in your voice, so he mumbles something in agreement. Knows there’s no winning here when he just came all over your panties like some kind of neanderthal. He rubs his hand over your belly, kissing your shoulder blade affectionately to keep you close. Your own hands cover his, intertwining your fingers once again and snuggling sweetly into him. 

a/n 🗒️ as always tysm for reading !!! if u have anything to say pls do i love to hear from ppl and reflecting on criticism is my driving force 💆‍♀️ reqs/asks are open !!!!

[nanaslutt]

omg can u imagine gojo being so obsessed with ur pussy lips and before seggs he makes u spread urself for him like he’s the pussy inspector 😵‍💫😵‍💫 or like makes u touch urself and spread ur legs/lips rly wide so he can watch

i can imagine and i am imagining and i will continue to imagine

nonnie you are BRILLIANT<3

contains: fem reader, pussy inspection, masturbation (gojo & reader), he guides you, you’re in front of a mirror, he’s obsessed with your cunt, you finger yourself together, so much praise like so much, dirty talk, he talks to ur pussy, pretty soft i won’t lie~

MINORS & AGELESS BLOGS DNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔

“toru, this ‘s so embarrassing.” your mumbling so quiet he can barely hear, face burning under his scrutinizing gaze with his eyes that can literally see everything

“don’t be embarrassed baby, your little pussy is so pretty,” he assures you, he currently has you on your back, thighs resting over his thicker ones as he’s between your thighs, sitting back on his heels, lengthy cock in hand, “you should wanna show her off,” he smiles sincerely at you

your hands are on the underside of your thighs, holding your pussy lips open for him to get a better veiw,

“you sure ur not jus’ pretending to be embarrassed cutie? little hole is squeezing around nothing down here when i talk to you,” his free hand coming to aid you in holding yourself open, pulling back the hood of your clit to get a closer look at your swollen bud,

“oh fuck,” he laughs, watching it twitch under his watchful stare, “want you to rub your clit a little for me pretty girl, can you do that?” he smiles fondly, eyebrows raising when he looks at you,

“o-okay,” you whimper, he moves his hand from the hood of your clit down to your thigh, rubbing comforting patterns into the skin there

you let one of the hands that was holding your cunt open come around your body and slide down your pelvis, tip of your middle finger coming in contact with your clit, legs trying to squeeze shut around him at the stimulation

“gotta keep ‘em open so i can see okay?” he says, emphasizing his point by using his strong grip to keep your leg in place,

“show me how you touch yourself when your alone.” he bites his lip, watching you look anywhere but his eyes that are trying to make contact with your own as you whimper out at his request,

dipping your finger down to your entrance to gather some of the slick there, you drag your finger back up to your clit and start rubbing quick circles into the angry bud,

not an inch of your movements are being overlooked by his crystaline eyes, he slowly starts to rub his own cock while he watches you, using his dripping pre to lubricate his strokes, jaw dropping in a half smile as he watches your eyes roll to the back of your head

a second finger joining the first in rubbing your clit, wetness echoing in the room,

“tell me how it feels,” he’s breathing heavily, focusing on his tip, watching you try to put your pleasure into words for him,

“feels so good, makes my tummy feel all hot,” you pause to gasp, “rubbing it d-directly like t-this is so intense.” you finish, panting in short breaths, finding a good rhythm, one that makes your toes curl,

“oh fuck, i bet it is, looks like it feels so good,” he shakes his head in disbelief, huffing out a half laugh-half moan when he picks up the ministrations on his cock,

reaching his hand back down to your pussy and teasing the tip of his finger in your hole, twisting his palm so it’s facing the ceiling, moaning at the feeling of how warm and wet you feel when he slips it deeper, before pulling out completely

“can you imagine how this feels around my cock?” he asked, watching you scrunch your cute little eyebrows together in pleasure,

“stop for a second.” he says, letting go of his grip on his cock and letting it bob in the air, you look up him confused, barely having time to register the change in position, he picks you up so you’re sitting on the edge of the bed on his lap, facing the mirrored closet, feet perched on the bed by your ass, giving you both a great veiw of your pussy all spread out, his broad chest flexing against your back, feet firmly on the ground,

“gimmie ur hand sweetie,” he speaks, letting him take your hand in his, he places his palm on the back of your hand, interlacing his fingers with yours before guiding your hand between your legs,

unlocking your finger after he presses you palm over your dripping cunt, his chest vibrates against your back when he speaks, “put two fingers inside yourself,” he requests, “slowly, really feel how soft and wet you feel.” he instructs, hand opting to hold your thigh open for now while he watches your every moment through the mirror,

you dip the tips of your fingers inside your hole, rubbing the wetness on the length of your digits before slowly pressing deeper into yourself, just like satoru asked, your head falling back against his shoulder in a moan when your cunt swallows up your fingers to the hilt, palm pressed firmly against your clit,

“good girl” he draws out, groaning as he thrusts his hips shallowly against you, cock pressed snugly between your lower back and his abs, relishing in the friction,

“feel how good that feels?” he asks, hand he had resting on your thigh coming down to your cunt, teasing the space under where your fingers are currently stuffed in your hole, you whimper out an ‘uh-huh’ while nodding, “that’s what my cock feels every time i’m inside of you.”

his thick fingers slowly joining yours inside your cunt, pushing them in with a little resistance as you gasp, eyes shooting open and head tipping forward to watch his ministrations in the mirror, “fuck! s-satoru!” you moan at the stretch

your cunt and his dick alike throb at the veiw of his fingers along with your own stuffed inside you, “this pussy is so fucking good to me you know that? he whispers into your ear, keeping eye contact with you in the mirror,

starting to pump all four of your fingers together in and out of your gushing pussy, forcing your fingers to curl with his each time he fucks them into you, putting the most mind numbing pressure on your gspot

“always squeezes my cock so good, just like she’s doin to our fingers now.” his mouth is still pressed to your ear, hot breath sending goosebumps all over your body,

“touch your clit, pay attention to how tight she gets when you do that,” he instructs

shaky hand coming down to rub your puffy nub, letting out a long moan of his name at the sensation of your clit getting stimulated along with your gspot being pounded into, thanks to him picking up the pace,

basically holding hands with him inside of you as your fingers tangle and curl together, cum sliding down between your ass as you work together to bring you to your rapidly approaching orgasm,

“fuck you felt that right?” he moans breathlessly into the shell of your ear, “felt how much tighter she got?” humming sounds of approval into the side of your face as the coil in your tummy screws impossibly tighter,

“and when you cum it makes my cock feel even better, try to focus on that, really wan’ you to understand how good you make me feel.” he enlightens you, staring between your pretty face twisting in pleasure and your messy cunt crying out for him as your thrown into your orgasm,

hunching over when the first wave hits you, remembering satoru’s words and trying to focus on how your pussy clenches and spasms around your fingers, and how it feels

his hips fucking up into your back, feeling sympathetic pleasure himself watching your intense orgasm wrack your body with tremors,

whimpers of his name and curses filling the air as your cum drips around both of your digits, letting you catch your breath for a second before pulling out his fingers, yours following shortly after, as he leaves sweet kisses on your sensitive neck.

“did such a good job, felt nice when you squeezed all tight on ur fingers when you came, right?” he asked, eyes already on yours when you came to, smiling and nodding at him through the mirror, affirming his words,

“good, now i wanna feel that same thing around my cock, and i want you to squirt for me while we’re at it,” he leaves one final kiss on your cheek, hearts practically in your eyes as he gets you in position for the long and messy night you’re about to experience.

[fayes-fics]

Wisteria

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: Even wallflowers bloom, and Benedict sees it.

Warnings: none... this is just fluff

Word Count: 0.7k

Authors Note: Request fill for Anon HERE, who wanted Benedict and a young, wallflower reader. Just a short little scene. Unbetaed. I hope you enjoy this. <3

You sigh as you once again find yourself wishing to be swallowed up by the wall behind you. And this is only your third-ever ball. The room is somehow both too hot and too cold all at once—a clamminess that has the applique of your dress itching and uncomfortable. You idly wonder if you took a wallpaper pattern to Ms Delacroix if she might be able to fashion a dress so similar you would not be visible at all…

It's not that you hate the idea of finding a match. Having a husband is most appealing. What is not so is the Ton’s preferred method—the awful parade and, indeed, inspection that comes with being a young lady taking part in the Season. You would much prefer to find someone with whom you could bond, away from all of this pageantry and artifice.

“Miss y/l/n…”

The rumbed, polite greeting instantly has butterflies twitching behind your ribs, your head swivelling with almost comedic speed as a tall gentleman pulls up next to you.

Benedict Bridgerton.

Quite the most handsome, eligible bachelor there is. Especially now that his brother, the Viscount, is so happily matched.

“Oh… Mr Bridgerton…!” You cringe at the squeak in your voice as you return his greeting, certain your cheeks are heating. “H-how is your evening?” Your query is polite, but you steadfastly keep your eyes averted, instead observing the swirl of dresses brushing the polished wood in front of you, the dancefloor filled with your fellow debutantes.

“It is better now…” 

“How so?” You can't help your bubble of curiosity, looking up at him. Well, a spot on his lapel—you feel unable to look properly upon him, knowing it may make you far too tongue-tied. 

“Present company,” he breezes, taking a sip of his champagne.

You turn left and right but quickly realise you are the only person nearby. Perhaps unsurprising given this spot is not optimal for anyone seeking attention, tucked as you are between a fireplace and a drinks table.

“Yes, you, Miss y/l/n,” he chuckles, his brow knitting bemusedly at your reaction.

Your cheeks are definitely aflame now. Why he would seek out your company, you have no idea. Yes, he has been a friend to your older brother for many years now, but you honestly did not believe he held you in any regard.

“After all,” he continues, “how could I not enjoy the company of a y/l/n?”

“But… I am so very different to my brother,” you frown slightly, thinking of how effortlessly your brother moves through the echelons of society, so at ease in any room, in any crowd. Not one to cling to a wall in any circumstance.

Benedict laughs, his face crinkling most attractively as he does so. “Indeed you are. But that is a good thing,” he remarks, “for I do not wish to court him.”

At first you are sure you misheard, but as you finally meet his gaze, you feel a burst of something warm and soft in your chest. His mein is warm and hope-filled but burning with a quiet intensity that steals your breath.

“Me?” you sound almost stupified. “But… I am a wallflower…” you blurt, wincing as you realise you have spoken aloud the word your parents have gently chastised you for being.

“Have you not spied the walls of Bridgerton House?” His tone is light and cheerful, a hint of amiable tease there that is so very him, a beguiling twinkle in those hazy eyes.

“Yes, of course….” you hesitate, not following his seeming change in topic, but unable to look away.

“Then surely you have seen how resplendent they are with wisteria?” He pauses as you nod, your attention wholly absorbed in him now, something so magnetic pulling you inexorably into him, almost alchemy. “Sometimes the most enchanting of flowers spend their lives clinging to a wall. Even when they finally blossom… And yet, their location does not diminish their beauty. Or their ability to attract admirers.” A crooked grin tugs charmingly at the corner of his mouth as he leans in a fraction closer. “So yes, you may indeed be a wallflower, Miss y/l/n, but you should know, I happen to think wisteria quite the most wonderful flower of all….” 

Benedict taglist pt 1: @makaylan @longingintheuniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @m-rae23 @last-sheep @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kmc1989 @desert-fern @corpseoftrees-queen @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @how-many-stars-in-the-sky @sya-skies

[everythingspokenfor]

All characters are aged up 18+.MDNI.

Pussy Dick inspection with Bakugou...

Bakugou hears the front door open, it's only a matter of minutes before you'll strut into the kitchen, objectify him and move to the bedroom to clean up.

It's a routine, something he has gotten accustomed to with years of living together, a pattern he recognised the second time you acted deranged, in the much smaller kitchen of your old apartment.

For you, it's just post mission treat, something to look forward to, a little reward for not dying out there.

"You look good, babe." You rumbled, barely crossing the threshold of the kitchen, mouth salivating at the gray sweatpants he adorned. "Fucking delectable."

"Nice to see you too, Princess." He turns around, wiping his hands with the spron, pulling you into a hug, eyes scanning your frame for any bandages or bruising.

"Were you good while I was gone?" You chimed, hands already clawing at his waist, fingers tracing over his nipples, before you let out a low growl, almost humping against his leg.

This is new, he thought. "What do you mean, Princess?" He spoke, voice soft and sweet, as if he is talking to a baby, he is though, you are his baby, "How could I be bad?"

"Did you play with your joystick?" You answered, eyes trained at his chesticles, your fingers kneading them, you look up at him, "Did you touch my dick?"

"Your dick? Last time I checked it was attached to me-"

"And if you wish for it to stay like that than you should address the rightful owner of the phalus!"

He let's out a sigh, "No. I didn't play with your cock." He watches as you hum silently, still drooling over his tits pecs.

"Should I check?"

"How exactly will you do that?"

You don't answer him, just sinking to your knees silently, you pull his sweats down, revealing his slowly hardening cock, you admire, before leaping forward and pressing kisses along his length.

His breathing slows, as he watches you rub your face against his cock, "You plan on sniffing me all evening," he catches your eyes narrowing at him, before you kiss the tip, soft lips against the slit of his cock.

Your hand slides up from his thigh to between his legs, fingers cupping his ballsac, his breath hitches, throat drying up, as he feels your tug at them, massaging each sac between your fingers.

"They seem full, Suki." You swirl your tongue around the head of his cock, bobbing your head, taking him further into your mouth.

He groans, hips rutting forward unintentionally, he watches you choke a little, his length hitting the back of your throat.

You pull off his cock, a string of spit connecting your lips to him, "You'll have to behave if you want to cum." You kiss along his length, nails digging in his thighs, tracing his perineal raphe, with your tongue.

A shiver runs down his spine, precum oozing out of his tip, you take mercy on him, taking one of the balls in your mouth and sucking gently, hand moving to wrap around his cock.

"Ah fuck, I'll shoot." He grunts, balls tightening up, you push your face deeper, suckling at his taint, before pressing against his rim.

Bakugou moans, hips jerking ahead, as his load shoots out, he stares dumbfounded at the cum painting the kitchen floor.

You slow down a bit, kissing leisurely against his thighs, before slowly standing up, "I'll go take a bath, why don't you step up dinner till then." You turn around strutting to the bedroom, leaving behind Bakugou to clean up his mess.

It's later in the evening, both of you cuddled up in each other's arms, winding down after having a big dinner and multiple rounds of sex. It's well past his usual bedtime, but you can tell that he is still awake.

"What's going on in that pretty head of yours, baby?" You queried, turning your head to look at him, fingers tracing mindlessly across his bare chest.

"Can you actually tell, if I ejaculated by holding my balls?" He mumbled, lips pouting slightly as he continues to stare at the ceiling.

"Is that what kept you from falling asleep?" You scooty closer to him, arms wrapping around his waist, as you nudge your face into the crook of his neck.

"I am just curious, because you were right, I didn't cum throughout the weekend."

"No, I can't tell that, by holding them." You answered his question, feeling as he settled in, ready to sleep now that his query was sorted, "but I can watch through the cameras to know."

"Princess, what cameras?!"

Dividers by: @saradika-graphics 💖✨

[godzilla-barbie]

When Jake Met Polly

Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Reader

Summary: Jake likes to flirt with his Air Traffic Controller or Jake Seresin has never seen When Harry Met Sally.

Warnings: Not much, fluff, flirting and refs to sex.

Note: This is just a short little idea i've had for agesss... reader has a 'name' but it's just her callsign, Polly, as in, short for Polaris. Ty to @hangmanssunnies i wuv u <3

“Hangman to Tower, I am coming in hot.”

You roll your eyes at the all too familiar voice that crackles through your radio, a smile pulling at your lips as you adjust your microphone and briefly throw a glance over your shoulder, just to make sure your commanding officer wasn’t lingering.

“Tower to Hangman. We are appalled at the gross lack of radio etiquette on display,” you respond. Barely a few seconds pass before you receive a reply.

“Come on, Polly, we've been working together for over a year now, what’s a little informality between colleagues?” Hangman says, and despite his jet only being a blip on your horizon still, you know he’s grinning.

“A commercial airline, Lieutenant.” You deadpan, your own smile growing as his laughter comes down the line. “You are cleared for landing, proceed to runway B,” you continue, not wanting him to have to ask again seeing as his approach was cutting it close already.

“Polly, have I ever told you that you’re my favourite Controller?” He asks as you watch him enter the pattern, and click your pen.

“Only every day we work together, Lieutenant.” There’s a beat of quiet as he expertly manoeuvres his jet toward the correct runway.

“And how sexy your voice is?” He goes on, sounding vaguely distracted.

“Once again, Lieutenant, this is not a commercial airline.” You respond, twirling your hair around your finger at his compliment anyway.

He doesn’t reply, and a shock of horror flickers through you as you watch the jet touch down once, something happening with his landing gear that makes the jet shudder, then seem to bounce momentarily before it drops back onto the tarmac and skids to a stop.

“Hangman, do you require the emergency crew?!” You ask quickly, eyes scanning the aircraft as it powers down fully. You wait tensely as the canopy pops up, and a broad figure jumps out, scrambling down the ladder, and once on the ground, he bends low to get a look at the problem.

“No, Polly, thank you. Seems the landing gear malfunctioned, must’ve been in a position to sustain damage once I landed…” his voice trails off, and you watch him straighten, and greet the ground crew who’d raced over to help.

“Glad you’re safe, Lieutenant. Tower out.” You say as he begins discussing with the crew, but briefly turns up toward the tower and raises a hand.

You let out a sigh of relief and settle back in your seat.

–

Around lunch time you make your way down to the tarmac. Hangman’s jet had been cleared off some time ago, and by now you know reports would have been filed, including your own, and his aircraft will have been taken in for inspection and repairs. You’re milling around the ‘crash’ site, inspecting the scrape marks left behind when you hear footsteps from behind approaching you.

“Can I help you ma’am?”

You know his voice immediately, but you know his face too, and when you at last turn back to him you’re graced by the sight of it, bright and unworried, despite the accident he’d had earlier.

“Oh, don’t mind me! I just watched someone bounce their jet off my tarmac earlier, just checking for potholes,” you tell him wrly. It takes a moment, but his face flashes with recognition and soon he’s taking a step towards you.

“Polly?!” Hangman asks, sounding surprised. You hum in response, then round on him.

“Where is it that you found your qualifications, Liuetenant? We should probably return them,” you tease him. Hangman only takes up a stance and stretches his arms out, his flight suit stretching desperately around his biceps as he does.

“Oh, Polly, if I’d known that was all it took to get you down here, I’d have started chipping bits off months ago,” he flirts shamelessly. You smile at him but don’t speak and after a moment, he drops his arms again, crossing them over his chest instead and blinking at you curiously. “What?” he asks.

Your smile grows, and you shake your head at him.

“Your terrible lines work better when I can see you, that's all,” you inform him, making him uncross his arms and laugh.

“I would say that’s generally the case, even if a guy ain’t me,” he replies coolly. You only shake your head again, and look back out at the expanse of tarmac ahead of you.

“Thanks to you getting your pilots lisence off the back of a cereal box, we’ve ruined our Sleepless in Seattle thing,” you say with a forlorn sigh.

When you look back at Hangman he’s frowning at you in confusion.

“Our what?” he asks. You roll your eyes and turn to face him fully at last, waving your hand as you speak.

“You know, our Sleepless in Seattle thing. We talk all this time, but never meet, and if we cross paths, we don’t realise it? It’s ruined now,” you accuse him lightly. Hangman hums, and seems to think for a moment.

“I get to be Meg Ryan in this situation, right?” he says, making you chortle.

“Well you’d have to be. No way I’d leave 90s Bill Pullman!”

“Well, what if we’re not Sleepless in Seattle? What if we’re more… When Harry Met Sally?” he suggests. You squint at him.

“Have you seen that film? I’m not sure that’s the implication you want to go for…” you ask him, making him falter for a moment.

“That’s the one with the emails right?” he responds unsurely. You laugh again, and shake your head.

“No, that’s You’ve Got Mail.”

“What the hell did I just suggest, then?” 

You stare at him for a moment, and can’t stop yourself from grinning up at him.

“More or less not speaking for like ten years, but on the rare occasion we do meet up, we argue,” you tell him, watching him frown even deeper, and shake his own head this time.

“That would be kinda hard, considering you’re the voice in my head,” he says.

“Oh, so we’re doing Her now!”

Hangman fixes you with a deadpan expression and a slightly smirk.

“I don’t even want to know.”

You laugh at him, and begin walking, unsurprised when he immediately joins you, falling into step at your side. “So,” he begins again after a moment, peering down at you. “Despite playing hacky sack on your tarmac, you still gonna let me take you out?”

You falter briefly, but keep walking, this time glancing up at him.

“I didn’t think you were being serious all those times you asked me out,” you don’t bother hiding your surprise. Hangman looks back at you, squinting, and cocks his head.

“At this point I think you’ve shot me down more than Dagger combined, why would I not be serious?” he asks you, sounding oddly serious. You chuckle.

“Right, so, say if, I don’t know, Rooster got a few more hits on you, you wouldn’t leave me hangin’ would you?” you know you’ll say yes, but you can’t help but tease him a little longer.

Hangman raises an eyebrow at you and grins wide and beautiful.

“You? Never,” he says. “Mostly because I’m legally obligated to respond when you speak to me.”

You lift your own eyebrow and fix him with a wry smile.

“I like that in a man.”

Hangman laughs.

–

“I mean it, your voice is sexy,” Jake tells you once he’s sat back down from replacing your drinks. You can’t help but chortle and stir your cocktail with the straw.

“Really? Me telling you to line up and wait in the pattern gets you going?” you ask. Jake grins, but nods very seriously as he takes a short sip of his beer.

“Absolutely. I also like when you tell me about the weather and conditions, and direct me to land.”

Leaning forward with your elbows on the table between you, you put your chin in your hands.

“I liek when you flirt with me,” you begin, waiting for him to smirk at you before continuing on. “And you don’t realise my boss is in the room, so I just have to respond ‘roger’ and ‘acknowledged’ whenever you say something stupid,” you finish. Jake rolls his eyes and leans forward to meet you.

“To be fair, I’d probably be saying something stupid anyway,” he tells you.

You have to let out a laugh at that and finally lean back again.

“Oh yeah, that reminds me, are you ever gonna tell us all how to ‘bury a fossil’? You know, those things that you famously dig up and do not bury?” you tease, earning another eyeroll. Jake shrugs and copies your movements.

“I foretold Mav’s career comeback, didn’t I?”

You laugh again, but this time, get a good look at him sitting casually across from you, out of uniform and seemingly more relaxed than you’ve ever seen, or heard.

“I like your voice too,” you tell him at last, smiling a little at how he seems to preen at your praise. “Your accent is more pronounced face-to-face though, and you don’t sound like you’re performing all the time.”

Jake takes a sip of his beer and shrugs again.

“Can’t be Hangman all the time,” he says. You make a face.

“I like Hangman. He entertains me at work… but I think I like the guy who hasn’t seen When Harry Met Sally, and has a Fisher-Price pilot's lisence even more.”

Jake laughs and nods at you.

“Splash one,” he says before he leans in to you again. “Toddler’s generally have pretty good taste, in my opinion, they’re all about shapes and colours and boobs… can’t fault ‘em!”

You have to laugh and concede that at least, the two of you clinking drinks before you continue to flirt and chat for the rest of the evening.

When Jake drops you back at yours, you invite him inside, under the guise of lending him your DVD copy of When Harry Met Sally, but when he simply lingers in your living room, you start to consider other tactics.

“Jake?” you say, standing up from ‘searching’ your stack of DVD’s and facing him. “This is the part where you save me from admitting I don’t really own a physical copy of the film by having sex with me,” you inform him dutifully, watching as he straightens up and blinks at you. Then, he’s shaking his head, smiling, and taking a step closer toward you.

“I guess every good rom-com does have an earth shattering lie at its core, doesn’t it?” he steps closer, and this time, anchors his hands at your waist, tugging you into him a little more.

“Let's skip the conflict part and go straight to the happy ending, shall we?”

[nikkento-writes]

"Look!" 

Nanami glances up from his newspaper, brow raised as he watches you stick your ass out, showing off your new pair of underwear. He squints, reading the words printed in glittery font. "Sweet, sweet, sweet...?" 

You beam at him, nodding. “Aren't these cute? They had a sale online so I got a bunch with different patterns and sayings.”

Surely you know that parading around in your panties, regardless of how innocuous or risqué they are, stirs something in your husband. He folds the newspaper, setting it down on the nightstand. “Come here,” he beckons you, patting your side of the bed. 

You reach for your pajama bottoms in the drawer, but then he says, “No pants. I want to take a closer look at them.”

There’s a flutter in your belly at the way his voice sounds, stern and domineering. You don’t question him, making your way to the bed and kneeling next to him, waiting for his next command. 

“Turn around,” he tells you, and you obey, facing away from him. His hand hovers your ass, finger barely tracing the letters etched on the fabric, making your skin buzz. “Sweet, sweet, sweet,” he repeats, breath hot on your ear, a slight tremble in his voice. “How about the other side?” He pulls you towards him, his legs spread out so you can sit with your back pressed to his chest, his erection throbbing against your tailbone. He rests his head on your shoulder, looking down between your legs, thoroughly inspecting the bow stitched on the front. “Is that it?” He slides his hand around your waist, thumb grazing the waistband.

“Yeah,” you answer him, swallowing the saliva collecting on your tongue. You’re certain there’s a wet spot forming at the crotch of your panties now, your arousal growing each passing second. 

He tuts disapprovingly, nipping at your ear lobe. “We can’t have that, can we?”

You moan loudly as soon as he presses his fingers to your aching clit, massaging deep circles through the thin layer of cotton. A growl escapes him. “These will be much prettier with your cum, don’t you agree?”   

“Kento,” you whimper, turning to kiss him sloppily on the lips. 

With his free hand, he grabs hold of your chin, keeping you in place as he ravishes your mouth with an eager tongue. His fingers continue to work magic on your swelling bud, the fabric darkening with your arousal leaking through. He smirks, whispering, “Good girl. My sweet, sweet girl.”

It’s not enough for him. He won’t stop until your panties have been properly ruined. He reaches for the top drawer of the nightstand to retrieve your vibrator, pushing it thrice to the highest setting, his entire grasp buzzing from the vibrations. "Right here, huh?" he purrs, pushing the fluttering tip to your clothed clit. Pleasure courses through your body, limbs shaky and twitchy from the sensation, toes curled against the sheets. “That’s the spot.”

Your mouth hangs wide open, eyes glazed over, face tacky from sweat. He chuckles as you clench up, climaxing into your underwear, the material sticky on your wet cunt.  “Look how pretty it is now with all your cum.” He gently pats your pussy, smearing your arousal deeper into the fabric. “Such a good girl, making a fucking mess for me.” He hooks his finger on the waistband, tugging it down to see it for himself, the cloth glistening with your orgasm. “Fuck,” he curses, his breathing labored, unable to contain himself any longer. “Take them off, sweetheart. Let me taste you.”

Soon, you’re straddling his face, fucking his mouth, his tongue and lips relentless on your clit. All the while, he has your wrecked panties wrapped tightly around his cock as he strokes himself fast, ruining them even more with his own cum. 

[deer1nheadlight]

j a i l b r e a k

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big brother!Shimura Tenko x little sister!Reader

Rejecting Tenko is never a good idea. Running from him is even further down the good ideas list. Your brother loves you so very much, and nothing may stands in the way of his mission, not even your mom nor yourself. It's high time he stopped stealing your panties.

WARNING: rape, non-con to dub-con, incest, somnophilia, panty kink, breeding kink, manipulation, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, almost caught sex, squirting. MDNI. Please block me and block the tags, as I would block you for your benefit if you do not like the content.

A/n: This is set in a quirkless alternate universe and we're fixing that one abominable character in my baby boy's life iykyk. I'm using his real name, and Tenko is 100% a pro gamer in our era change my mind (you can't). If he got to grow up normally, would his personality be different? Yep, absolutely. Am I gonna consider that fact here? Absolutely not <3

Word count: 7460.

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Your washed panties have been smelling a bit strange recently. Not just one or two, but the whole drawer of them. It's not a bad smell exactly, but it's this sort of musty musk that you'd expect more from a guy. You've never had such a problem before, and you're unconvinced that it's your poor pussy’s fault. You take care of yourself well, after all.

Another, probably bigger, problem is that they've also been disappearing gradually. You can't wrap your head around it at all, especially when a pair that you thought you'd lost forever suddenly reappears one day at the back of the drawer, even though you could have sworn you had emptied the whole thing to look for them before.

They're a pair of bunny-patterned underwear that's both cute and comfortable, perfect for any sports day. You'd always reach for them first after doing laundry until they suddenly went missing, after which you realized a few pairs were gone as well. But now they're here again, and you're crouching on the floor inspecting them as if they've committed first-degree murder. They… look exactly as you remember. Well-worn, with their tag cut off because it kept digging into your skin and several bunnies running around innocently.

But, they smell surprisingly normal. Like freshly washed laundry, what all your panties used to smell like — which ruins your last theory as to why your whole drawer has been taking on that musk. You were thinking that the wood itself might be emitting the scent, which then got on them. Theoretically, if that was the case, then the pair that have been lost inside there the longest should have the strongest smell as well. Yet, it's the opposite.

You're at your wit's end. You've tried washing them in hot water, washing them by hand, drying them in the direct sun, soaking them in detergent, just about every method the internet told you to try and at first, it would work, getting rid of the musk, but after a few days, that scent would return again. Maybe there really is something wrong with your lady part itself?

As you begin to pull down your skirt, intending to try and diagnose yourself, the door to your room swings open with no warning. Your startled screech does nothing to deter your intruder, who doesn't seem the slightest bit fazed to see you on the floor, hunching over a small pile of your own panties.

“Dinner's ready, be down quick or I'm eating all the karaage.” He grumbles, and as quickly as he came, he left, shutting the door on your floundering form. You curse him extra loud for good measure, but if he heard, he didn't bother to snark back. Damn Tenko and his inability to knock. You've told him a million times to stop barging in like that, but despite his ability to memorize every little fucking ability and stat of the characters in his game, he can't seem to remember your request.

Scooping up your clothes and shoving them haphazardly back in the drawer, you decide to continue the investigation another day. Maybe you'll just have to accept the strange scent, as embarrassing as it is to admit that you might smell like a man. You rush downstairs to have dinner, hopping into the seat next to your brother as usual. Tenko threatened to eat all the food, but like always, he gives you anything in his bowl that you want and picks off the things you don't like.

“If you keep letting her get away with not eating carrots, she's not gonna be able to run fast like a hare!” Hana, your eldest sister, chides him and tries to knock away his chopsticks reaching into your bowl. She's often had to bear witness to Tenko’s excessive babying of you ever since you were born. Not that she babies you two much less, but her little brother is probably bordering on sheltering you now, and sometimes she worries it's terrible for the both of you.

“That makes no sense, and you know it. Plus, didn't the turtle win the race?” He rebuts, taking your carrot pieces anyway, and is rewarded with your happy grin.

“Speaking of, when is your next race, hun?” Across from you, your mom asks. You stop stuffing your face with food to think and suddenly remember what caused you to dig through your panties drawer earlier: your missing elastic underwear, specifically designed for long races. You know for a fact that the washing machines can't have swallowed them all, because you haven't even washed them in the first place. And your last practice was just three days ago, so you can't have forgotten to use them for that long either.

Strangely, all three pairs aren't in your hamper nor in your drawer. And they're terribly expensive; you don't know how you can explain this to your parents. “Kid?” Your dad asks, pulling you back from your spacing out. “Isn't it pretty soon? This Saturday, if I recall,” Tenko helps out. He always remembers your schedule, even when you forget it yourself, and you nod appreciatively. But your earlier scrunched-up expression causes Mom to worry. Maybe a lie won't hurt anyone.

“I… I think I may have outgrown some of my clothes. Or maybe I've gained some weight, or muscle?” Your dad raises an eyebrow when you don't seem sure of it yourself but luckily doesn't question you. Mom claps her hand, “Oh? Why don't you bring her shopping tomorrow, Tenko? You're dying to treat her with your big boy money, aren't you?” Beside you, your brother blushes slightly as he turns away huffing but doesn't deny the accusation.

Tenko is apparently some big shot in his industry or something. Ever since he started making money, he's been treating the family quite often and also saving up. However, he refuses to move out and favors splurging on you so obviously that everyone would make fun of him. Every weekend, he forces you to eat out with him for no reason in particular, and your closet is full of outfits you've only been able to wear once.

You don't quite understand the games he's lauded for being good at either, you only know that he's popular enough that the boys in your class were astonished to learn you're the sister of “Shigaraki Tomura.” Nevertheless, just like how he comes to every single one of your races, you also come to all of his tournaments. You tried to learn how to play his games once but gave up after you cramped your hand trying to reach the keys. You're much more dexterous with your legs anyway.

Usually, you don't mind going out with him for clothes shopping, but on this occasion, you're planning on getting both everyday panties and sporty underwear. You’ll probably have to visit a lingerie shop, and dragging a guy, especially your brother, along would just be awkward. So before Tenko could even pretend to be bothered about taking you out, you interjected, “Can you take me instead, Mom? Or maybe Hana-nee, if you're busy tomorrow.”

His chopsticks stop moving, and if you aren't so in tune with his body language, you probably wouldn't have noticed either. But you do, because Tenko and you share a deeper bond with each other than anyone in your lives.

“Why?” He already beats Mom to it before she can begin to ask. You want to answer, but in your struggle to find the words to dance around mentioning underwear in the middle of a family meal, he's already jumped to a conclusion. “I guess you're too good to hang around me anymore, huh?” He bitterly grits, a piece of carrot falls out from his bowl.

“No! That's not it, why would you say that?” You frown harshly. Tenko has this terrible habit of expecting you to randomly abandon him the moment you don't openly receive all of his affection. As a child, you learn quickly to never push him away. Why he latches onto you instead of literally anyone else, you don't know, but you love him enough to welcome it all willingly. Which is why you're offended to know he has so little faith in you. He can be so stupid sometimes.

Your brother doesn't respond and chooses to finish the rest of his food in silence, promptly cleaning up and then leaving the moment he's done, even when Grandpa tempts him with ohagi for dessert. Your mood stays low for the rest of the evening, and it doesn't help when you later on find two of your missing sporty underwear at the very bottom of your hamper, hidden inside your running shorts as if you've forgotten to separate them. The whole argument could have been avoided.

The next day, after Hana took you shopping, you knocked on Tenko’s door trying to make amends. Aside from underwear, you even bought a new skirt, which you hope if you pretend to try on for the first time for him like how you would if he'd taken you out, he would stop sulking.

“And, look, I even brought you my portion of ohagi I saved from yesterday!” You yell into the door, and finally it swings open. But before you could get a word in, the plate of mochi disappears from your hand, and he shuts you out again. You jiggle the door handle and rap on it insistently.

“Nii-san! Quit being childish! It's not a big deal, what the hell!” You slump against the wooden barrier. It's not a big deal, you said, blissfully unaware of how further and further away you keep running from Tenko. Your legs are really too quick, sometimes he wonders if he should cut their tendons off once you finish up your last year and move out with him. You used to rely on him for everything, from walking your first steps, to bathing yourself, to doing one plus one, he would teach you all he knew. Now that you've grown so big, you demand more and more independence from him every day. If only he'd been born a lot earlier, he would have stolen you away as soon as he could and not taught you anything so that you would always stay with him.

Your begging is cute; Tenko wants to listen to it forever. That is, until you become impatient and yell out something not cute. Something that maybe Hana has always wanted to say but doesn't have the guts to.

“Stop being so controlling of me!”

You regret it the moment it comes out of your mouth. By instinct, you know it's wrong, whether or not it's true. Your big brother has devoted his entire self to you since the moment you opened your little eyes. Despite being only 3 years older, he takes care of you just as much as your parents did. Hana can't even hold a candle to how carefully he watches over you. Even now, when you're technically an adult, you're still choosing those animal print panties when your friends are shopping for pearl thongs, evidence of his constant hovering. But still, calling him controlling is violating an unspoken rule, because he's never actually forced you to do anything. You yourself enable his behaviors by always being such a good baby sister.

The door slowly cracks open to reveal your brother. He's glaring at you so meanly you feel tears welling up in your eyes. In the dim hallway light, his eyes almost look red, and coupled with his recently dyed pale blue hair, he seems like a different person entirely. His dry lips tell you he's forgotten to drink enough water again, but it's hardly the time to remind him when he's towering over you so suffocatingly.

“I-I’m sorr—”

“Go away then.”

That's two firsts today. You've never even insinuated that you want your brother to stop being involved in your life, and Tenko has never told you to go anywhere without him, least of all away from him. You feel as if a bucket of ice got dumped over your head, and at the same time hellfire licks your heels. Your words hurt him, and his words hurt you, so you do what you do best: run back to your room and stew in your own guilt-colored anger.

By Saturday, when you're having your next relay race, you siblings still haven't reconciled. Tenko has been shut in his room the whole week and only comes out for food and to go to the gym. You torture yourself with math homework even when you desperately need help and can't even ask Hana since she's gone on a camping trip until Monday. Your parents and grandparents tried their best to ease the tension but couldn't get you to make up. When things are awkward for the youngest and the middle child, everyone is affected. Even worse when the only other child is gone. No one laughs at the adults’ jokes, and even your normally stoic dad feels awkward as well.

In the girls locker room, you take your time getting ready. You're afraid of stepping out of the doors and facing what your gut is already telling you. Irrationally, you hope that if you try to delay the inevitable, maybe it won't come after all. But by the time the announcer starts his second round introduction, you know you're out of time.

Tenko isn't in his usual seat on the bleachers. In fact, he isn't here at all. You tell yourself that it doesn't bother you and take your frustration out on the tracks. When your teammates cheer and congratulate you for securing the team's place in the finals, you only feel more lonely because he still hasn't rushed up to sweep you away from the commotion.

Dad often has to come home late, Mom needs to take care of the house, Grandma and Grandad can't always make it to your games because of the heat, and Hana can be busy with university work. Only Tenko, who has never missed a single one of your races, nor a milestone, nor a life event, was always there to hug you despite your sweat and tell you how proud of you he is. For the first time, you experience what you think your beloved older brother feels each time you grow up a little.

No one can tell that you're crying a little in the shower. Your friend gets off a few stops before yours, and the rest of the bus ride home is silent as your sadness turns to anger. You've never had to go home by bus after an event before. Tenko would always drive you to get ice cream afterwards. He's horrible, absolutely evil to abandon you like this, all over not getting to take you out one time.

When the front door slams open without a greeting, your mom peeks around the corner just in time to see you stomping upstairs to your room. She knew something was up when Tenko came home without you. When he left earlier, she thought he'd finally stopped being stubborn and went to make peace, but apparently that was not the case. Being the good mother that she is, she decides to make sure your favorite dish comes out perfect today to celebrate your win.

Passing Tenko’s room, you stomp extra hard to make a point. If he's got any remorse, now would be the best time to show his ugly face and apologize. But he doesn't, even when you wait for another moment at the foot of the stairs to your room. Your anger boiling over, you walk back to confront him yourself and barge inside without knocking, like how he loves to do to you so much, only to find… the room empty. Which is strange, because you clearly saw his shoes at the entrance, and his bathroom’s light is not on.

The confusion quickly deflates you, and you walk back to your room without bothering to stomp around. That would be your mistake, although there is no conceivable universe where you would be able to avoid this event anyway. Tenko probably wouldn't have stopped even if he could hear you thundering back to your room, only that he might have been able to prepare better. Because as of right now, sitting half-naked at the edge of your bed is your older brother with one of his hands wrapped around his—his thing.

Your panties drawer is open, and the neatly folded rows of garments are messily strewn about the floor. In the palm he's fucking into are your panties; the stripes tell you that it's the newly bought pair you were wearing only yesterday. In his other hand, the one currently right up against his mouth, is the pair of elastic underwear that went missing a little over a week ago. It's turned a dark blue from the usual cyan, soaked through with what you can only infer is his spit.

“Ten…ko… nii-san?” Your brain hasn't caught up, but you manage to croak. And like the cruelest joke, spurts of semen spill out of his closed fist not a second later. As if—as if he's enjoying your reaction too. There's the most depraved grin stuck on his face that makes you the most frightened you have been in your life. He leans forward a little and spreads open his palm as if to show his cum off to you.

“Look what you do to me, brat.” Without warning, he flicks his wrist and the fluids fly across the room, landing on your exposed legs and thighs. You think some drops got on your face too, but you don't want to process that right now. His sudden movement causes you to flinch backwards and like a spindly-legged fawn, you trip over air to fall on your own butt. It's hard to make out what emotion you're feeling right now because fear, shock, and confusion are screaming for first place, creating a cacophony of noise so loud you start to actually hear a ringing in your ear. You're petrified, the realization of what happened strangles you like a snake. You could hardly breathe, but you know this familiar scent that is permeating the room.

“You're why—why my underwear has been—”

“Been missing and smelling like my cock, yeah. Honestly, why were you even embarrassed to ask me to go panty shopping?” He stands. “Coulda saved me the huge headache had you just been honest,” a step, “I would have driven you to that mall in the next prefecture,” another step, “be your damn pack mule like usual,” he's in front of you now. Your room has never felt smaller; there's too little air and you're suffocating. You're trembling, shaking, and scrambling away, about to either run or roll down the flights of stairs but two hands wrap around your ankles and yank, pulling you back inside. The door slams closed without locking.

Five fingers lock your jaw shut before you can let out a single yelp. The wooden flooring is too cold to be pinned down on in just your shorts and T-shirt. A choked sob wracks your body, which can't even writhe around because the weight of a grown man is on top of you. Where did he learn to apprehend people like a cop? You can't even kick up at his exposed crotch, you have no grip and no oxygen.

“Scream, and you'll never see me again.” His voice is the only clear thing in this situation, because your eyes are useless from the tears and your mind is shutting down. Never see him again? As in, he will run away and abandon you forever like today? After all of this, isn't that a good thing? It should be, but instead of yelling at the top of your lungs for Mom the moment he releases the hand muffling your mouth, you bite down on your own lips to stay silent instead. You can excuse this, you can keep quiet. Maybe he was too pent-up from never having a girlfriend, even at 21. Maybe he watched too much porn and was possessed by lust. Maybe he is just pranking you, a sick prank that was the idea of his friends.

Unfortunately, this makes you keep not breathing. You're turning pale and you don't even know it. Not until Tenko has to lean down to pry your lips apart with his teeth and force air down your windpipe do you remember the one basic bodily function you need to keep doing. Little by little, he feeds you the oxygen your dumb brain needs to work. After which it becomes a slow, sloppy kiss that mellows you out like a pacifier. You forget to struggle against his grip and your eyes become half-lidded on their own.

When he pulls away, a string of saliva still connects your mouths. He's smiling like he's genuinely happy, and his pupils look red like the other day. “See? Why can't you always be honest like this?” He cups your face, all five fingers caress your cheek and the thumb wipes away your tears. You give up wrangling with him because you know you can't overpower him, no matter how fast you can run. Since you can't fly, fight, or freeze, the only other option is to speak.

“I h-hate, hate—hic—you, nii-san! That w-was my firsh—first kiss,” you sound pathetic. It pains him to see you so boldly lie to his face. It seems that you still don't understand that he knows you and your body better than you know it yourself.

“Don't worry, it wasn't.” Even though you know that's not true, you can't confidently deny his statement when he's smiling so lovesickly like that. It scares you, and his next question scares you even more. “Do you never notice how you're so damp when you wake up in the morning?”

Your brother presses a kiss against your forehead. The act is anything but pure when his other hand is sliding your shirt up to your neck. It's more like a reminder to use your itty bitty brain.

“Remember your last birthday? When you had your first cocktail and beer?” He peppers kisses down your nose. “I strained my throat warning you not to pass out around men; you didn't fucking listen.” The kisses trail downward, deliberately missing your lips. “Any innocence you had was lost on that day, brat.”

No. No, no, no. No, that's not true. That day, he brought you to the bar after the family celebration. He was there, you were in good hands.

Ah.

You were in his hands. The same hands that are taking off your shirt, shorts, and bras right now, and are tying your wrists with the underwear strewn on the floor. Same hands that are picking your near-naked body up and laying you on the bed. You wished you had bought the cheap pairs that tear with a touch. The ones you have can hold up a suspension bridge.

“After every win, I'd reward you too. You're still too damn dumb to act so independent. Why do you think just a bottle of cider can knock anyone out cold, to this day? And that your pussy gets sore from running?”

It's so scary to be able to understand what he's insinuating. If only you were stupid enough to just take everything literally, maybe you wouldn't be crying again. He pushes your hands above your head, exposing you like a fish on the cutting board.

It's also scary when he doesn't act like how you imagine a rapist might act. You can't say it's molesting when his hands are petting you so tenderly. They're cold, and they soothe your burning skin, from your ribs to your waist, to down in between your thighs, then pressing against your still-clothed pussy. Instantly, you know something is wrong when Tenko pulls the gusset back and releases, it slaps against you with a splat instead of a noiseless pap. He grins because he knows that you know. You know that you're drenched.

“Hear that? I trained you well, didn't I?” You can only shake your head no, pressing your leg shut to prevent him from humiliating you further. It must be sweat, or maybe pee. You are really scared, after all. “Why are you, doing—hic—this? You're my br-brother, it's wrong!” You whisper between sobs. Why are you not screaming?

“Ah? Wrong? What's so wrong about being in love?” Large hands try to force your thighs apart. When your legs prove to be the harder limbs to manhandle, unlike your twig arms, he folds them upwards instead, bending you into the letter L. Your entire pussy is still accessible this way, but Tenko doesn't get to see your face. He has a love-hate relationship with this part of your body. On one hand, he would be happy to die between them. On the other, he wants to take them away so you can't run from him ever again. It's a blessing that his sanity is intact. Who knows what other versions of himself would do in another universe.

“What's so wrong with treating my girlfriend well?” Instead of taking off your panties, he did the opposite. Your brother pulls on the fabric so it would hug tighter against your pussy, the wet gusset outlines every one of your folds. Not that it even needed to, he's got his face pressed up all over your cunt and filmed it from so many angles, he could make a 3D model of it from memory. But touching your pussy and creaming it is arguably the best part, right up there with watching your knocked-out face make the lewdest expressions when you cum.

“And if you yell at me for being a little sister-fucking monster,” he pulls the fabric to the side, “then you're a fucking hypocrite, brat.” Three fingers plunge in at once without any warning, as if to prove a point. There is no resistance; your pussy accepts them greedily. You strain against the knots around your wrists and can no longer keep your legs in the air, they fall apart just like that. His meal looks a lot more appetizing now that he can always glance up to see your face.

“Why are you so wet knowing you've been raped in your sleep by your nii-san, huh?” His fingers keep pumping in and out of you roughly, every jerk makes sure to abuse your sweet spot inside and your clit outside. “You're still gushing when you know that your big brother is rubbing his cock on all your clean panties. That he likes putting the dirty ones in his mouth and on his dick.” His tongue replaces his thumb on your clit, swirling it around to make obscene noises, which still doesn't shut him up. “I would have marked them with my cum if dried semen wasn't visible. I bet your cunt remembers my cock. It must leak all the time when you wear them.”

It's hard to focus on crying when you're being eaten out for the first time—that you're lucid for, anyway. His rambling doesn't make sense, his scent can't be the cause of why your pussy gets wet at random times. It should have been the opposite, that your pussy discharges more and is causing the smell. But at this point, you can't tell. Things you thought weren't possible are happening in front of your eyes; or, well, your pussy.

It's getting harder to think too, something is welling up as his hand increases its speed. He's sucking your clit lightly, lapping up your juice as it spills out and the other hand reaches up to pinch your nipple. You can't stop it, your hands are bound, but the sensation feels oddly familiar, as if you've experienced it many times before in your dream.

“Hey, have I told you before? You can squirt sometimes. It's why I have so many towels. But wet your bedsheet today, slutty sister.” So you did, at his command. However, Tenko is cruel. Instead of letting the stream runs its natural course, he pulls the gusset of your panties back in place, interrupting the spurts, which forces you to feel everything run down your butt. You do it involuntarily, and you almost scream because you thought you'd peed yourself. Though when you peek at yourself, it's a clear liquid; the kind you can only make when you overhydrate yourself, which you didn't do. You've only heard hushed whispers about the ‘squirting’ phenomenon from your friends, that only some women might do it. You didn't think you'd find out that you're one of them today.

Up was down and down was up for a moment in time. After your first orgasm, you finally understand what all the fuss around it is about and why your girl friends coveted it so. The experienced ones bemoan their boyfriends’ inadequacy, complaining about how they have to fake it all the time. Isn't it nice that your very own sibling, the one who loves you so very much, can give you one as easily as drinking water? Or, in this case, sucking the water out of your panties.

Then a bite on your neck grounds you back to Earth. It hurts a bit, but you don't think your skin broke since it doesn't sting. Tenko lazily crawls up to plant a proper kiss on you after that, making you taste the remnants of yourself. It's not as good as he makes it look, but the strangest, stupidest thought crosses your mind about what his cock might taste like instead. You immediately write it off as an intrusive thought born from your high. For some reason, your bound wrists that were above your head slowly draw down to wrap your arms around his neck. You feel his lips smile against yours. And he doesn't say anything, doesn't taunt you, or humiliate you. Tenko knows you really haven't broken just yet, but for this moment, he likes to pretend it's a year from now and you're pulling him in with love.

After a few minutes and you're aware again, you push him away. Then you're back putting on your indignant act, all high and mighty as if you hadn't just squirted from a bit of cunnilingus. You cum so quickly when you're awake, he'd have to eat you out for at least two orgasms before you'd start squirting in your sleep. Sometimes, he wishes he could jailbreak you as easily as he can with your phone and laptop. If only there was a manual on how to turn you into his good incest doll quickly, he'd read every page and learn every technique. But it's alright, he'll figure it out himself. For now, it's time to remind you who owns you.

“Flip over, ass in the air, baby.” Of course you don't obey immediately, only with a few slaps to your pussy and a pinch to your nipple do you squirm onto your stomach to hide away. He makes you present your butt to him in the most embarrassing way possible, with your panties clinging onto your crevices like a second skin from the mess earlier. Finally, finally your brother takes them off. In a normal situation, that would be a major cause of concern, but for you it's a relief to stop feeling like you've just wet yourself. He folds them neatly on your bedside table, away from the rest on the floor.

“This is my memento for today, you know? I'm gonna dry it and sniff it whenever I miss you.” The imagery is enough to make you cry, from your eyes to your pussy. You can't understand it, you feel gross but it is so happy, it betrays you for the nth time. “Cause you're awake today. And I'm finally fucking you from the back, baby sis…” A suspiciously delayed spurt of liquid escapes you, interrupting him. “Ah? Hah, so you get off on me reminding you that you're my littlest sister, huh?”

“No!” You deny too quickly and he chuckles. It's a terrible habit of yours, can't lie to your brother to save your life.

“Really? Don't want a reminder of who this cunny belongs to?” He taps on it gently, as if questioning it and not you. “Remember, it's big brother's property. Ten - ko - nii’s. Now let me fuck it properly so it can't forget.” At his words, you see the black hoodie he's had on tossed to the side and feel a hot rod shoved between your butt cheeks. It rubs up and down, threatening to slip further south and press inside of you. Terror rises again, this would be your first time, no matter what he told you before. It feels way bigger than three fingers, and everyone told you the first time would hurt like being ripped apart.

But when he sinks his cock in with one fluid stroke, you feel no pain, just unimaginably full and out of breath. It feels like he's inside your stomach, or your womb, and his veins keep rubbing against your pleasure spot inside, making your vision swim. The new position must be doing things to Tenko as well if his staggered inhales are any indicator. He's glad you can't see his face, it may make you pee yourself if you catch the feral way he's snarling to not moan out loud. Globs of drool drip down his chin to land on your anus, sliding down more to help lubricate your entrance, if it even needed help in the first place. He has to leave that other hole alone today, it needs to be worshipped properly on its own another time.

Being a good big brother, he allows you to catch your breath. But then, you both hear thuddings that aren't the ones from your hearts. They're from the floor, from outside. Someone is coming up to your room. Either that, or they're going to go do laundry. Tenko bites his lips to stop a groan because your cunt is clamping down harder. The thudding is right outside now, and it soon slows to a halt.

The door isn't locked. Out of everyone in the house, only Tenko would barge in with no warning. But sometimes, Hana does too, especially if she's excited. He leans down, presses his defined abs onto your back so you can feel every ridge and whispers in your ear, “Why don't you scream for help, huh?”

“Hun, are you alright?” Your mom knocks lightly. Thank gods, it's Mom. But oh gods, it's Mom. Her middle child is diddling her youngest on the girl's own bed inside the room right now, she might get a heart attack if she opens the door. She's checking up on you after your little attitude show earlier. If you yell, she'd come in straight away and stop this madness.

“Why aren't you yelling for Mom? Don't you hate this?” You do, you don't. You don't know, he's being so mean. Why is he goading you into getting him caught? And oh god, why is he starting to move? It's a terrible, slow rhythm that's more appropriate for lovemaking than fucking you from behind. You apologize to your mother in your head profusely. The two abominations that came out of her are copulating just on the other side of the door, or more accurately, one is raping the other. If she turns the handle, your once normal family might just disintegrate to dust.

“Hun? Are you there?” She knocks again, and you have to answer soon, or she'll come in and check on you herself. In your ear, Tenko breathes, “Hey, just scream, and you'll never see me again.”

It's the same line that he used earlier, but it's taken on a different meaning now. If you scream, he will most likely get thrown in jail, get disowned, and get ostracized. You'd be saved, never have to see your rapist big brother again. But then, in a moment of extreme wisdom, you realize you'd be the one abandoning him. You don't want that. You'd hate that.

“Y-yeah, Mom! I'm here. I'm o-o-okay,” you swallow your spit and try to focus in spite of your melting mind.

“Dear? Are you crying? I know you've been upset with your brother. Speaking of, do you know where he is? I could have sworn he came home earlier. He even told me how you won!” She asks, and you suck in a moan that's threatening to come out as Tenko reaches down to touch your clit. He's still pumping into you, not even letting up as you try to speak. In fact, when you have to answer, he seems to thrust in even deeper and harder. It's unfair, especially when he gets to bite down on your shoulder to stifle his noises. It makes you want to make him anxious as well.

“Yeah, he—he's in my room, actually. We're making ou- up, making up!” A hand grabs your hair and pulls back, forcing you to get on your elbows instead of resting your cheek on the pillow.

“Oh! Good, you're in there, Tenko?” Her voice is a lot more chipper now. Your poor mother, clearly she's thinking her sweet children are reconciling and peace will once again be attained in the household, clueless to the fact that they're actually trying to fuck up the family tree. Without missing a single beat, he answers her, “Yep, I'm apologizing to her. We're having a chat. Can we have dinner later?”

“Alright, hun. I'm sure everyone will understand. Make sure to talk, okay?” She happily reiterates and leaves. The moment her footsteps start to fade, a sharp smack reverberates off the walls. Your butt immediately turns a cute pink, and your pussy clenches sinfully. Booming laughters comes from behind you, smug and cruel as if he knew you would cover for him all along.

“What'd ya want to happen, hah? Wanna get back at me? When I'm being such a good big brother too. Say it.” He yanks your hair lightly and slaps your ass again when you don't respond, a handprint forming.

“You're a, you're a good b-big brudder!” You blabber through squeals and breathy moans. It feels too good. Your brother shouldn't be making you feel this way, but somewhere inside your brain, you understand that only your brother can make you feel this way. “Yeah? Now the place I'm knocking on is your cervix. Past that is your womb, where my cum belongs. I'm gonna—fuck, gonna breed my baby sister. What do you think?”

“Noo! P-Pull ouuut! I, I, don't wannaa—wanna get p-pregnant!” Mewling it out like that sounds more like an invitation than anything. "W-well, too fucking bad. I'm creaming my lil sis' tight cunny a-and, sh-shit—and seeding it today.” He releases your hair all of a sudden, making you hang your head limply, too fucked out to use more muscles. Then you feel a pressure on your lower stomach, and you open your eyes to see that a hand is pressing down on it. You can now feel every drag of his cock in and out of you even more vividly, stirring up your insides and you can't do anything but leak more slick at the disturbing sight.

“Feel that? I'm in y-your stomach—my little wife’s stomach. If you get your period in a few days, I'm spanking this stomach until it gives me a baby. S-so make sure it takes today,” he moves his other hand to toy with your button again, tapping it even more roughly than how he'd treat his keyboard. The squelching noises from his brutal fucking fill the entire room and your head, you're afraid everyone downstairs may just hear it. This is the first time being on the third floor has done you any good. You know your bedsheet is drenched, just like Tenko wants it to be, because your knees are slipping and sliding against the copious fluids from your baby-making.

It's genuinely scary, the threat of impregnation. You're much too young, you only just got your university acceptance letter last week. But the more he says it, the more appealing it sounds somehow, being a stay-at-home mom and his trophy wife, married to the only guy you care for. No other boy your age could do what he does, they don't take care of your every want and need, don't treat you like a princess, don't understand your feelings at all. He's the only one who could, and in every classmate who confessed, you always try to find his look-alike. Your pleas become so weak and fake, they make him laugh aloud. “Tenko-niii, p-pleash don't d-do it…” So you say, but your hips are canting back and chasing his cock with every thrust.

A mean chuckle tickles your eardrum. “You suck at reverse psychology. Lucky for you, I love you so fucking much. Don't you love me too?” What can you say? You know the love he feels for you is different from yours for him, at least you think so. That's what you're trying to tell yourself. But it doesn't matter, because there's really only one answer to that question regardless of context. “I…I love y-you as well.”

Tenko kisses your cheek. How perverted, to do such a normal and sweet thing like he's still just your old Tenko and not the monster whose balls are slapping on your pubic bone. He pets your head, brushing away the hair strands sticking to your face. “C’mon, cum on my cock and I'll give you your treat…” Gentle, disgustingly tender voice coaxes you. You're ashamed of yourself for getting off on the dichotomy between his soft actions and the revolting things he says. It seems that he's also at his limit, his pumps become more erratic but much harder, trying to push himself as deep as he could. With every drag, his cockhead scrapes and teases your insides, kissing up your womb entrance as if it's welcoming him home. Your labias are spread apart by his index and his ring finger, for no discernable reason other than to expose your shameless pussy to him.

“I wish—I wish I could get past your cervix, but I can’t, so just make sure not to spill anything, okay?” He warns, and not a second later, he thrusts forward so forcefully you topple over from your elbow to land on your face, ass still up in the air. Immediately, burning hot ropes of thick semen fill your insides, pushing straight into your womb. The virile seeds stick to your walls, and he only thrusts shallowly to fuck them in further. Your pussy, finally getting its long-awaited creampie, convulses and pitifully sprays your orgasm all over Tenko’s lap. The addicting pleasure broke something in you. But he doesn't stop thrusting, his cock instead tries to bury itself deeper with every squeeze of your pussy. You think he has hooked a thumb inside your anus when you started cumming because you feel so full, too full. It doesn't help that like second nature, that hole starts to contract and immediately sucks on his thumb. It took everything in him not to pull out and share the load with your pretty anus as well.

Little rivers run down his thighs, painting him in your essence. When he leans back to peek at the mess, whatever cum he had left in his balls all spurts out at the sight of a creamy white ring around his cock every time he pulls away. You really are fast, to have managed to put a ring on him before he can even nail down a design, and it's the most gorgeous thing ever.

Spread apart on his dick, his little sister came and squirted for him. It's so much better to hear you helplessly beg him to pull out while your cunt is milking him for all he's worth than to fuck you when you're drugged and barely conscious. He doesn't know if he can go back to forcing himself on you that exact way anymore when he can now fuck your fully awake brain out of your skull whenever he wants. Though, that wouldn't be rape, now would it? Especially when you're already so addicted to his cock just from one round.

He hesitates to pull out, but a lightbulb goes off above his head when he's searching for something to plug you up with. He unties the panties on your wrist, now red and chafed, then slides one of them on you. You blearily blink your eyes open when he manhandles you on your side and pulls you into a cuddle, which shouldn't feel as comforting as it does with his cum trying not to escape your pussy. This soreness in your body, your legs, and your crotch is far too familiar, something you've always written off as muscle fatigue after  an intense race. He so very lovingly soothes over your injuries with his hands, which always feel like they can destroy anything, and coos praises in your ears that you can only half-heartedly deny.

Tenko is happy. After midnight, he'll take you out for ice cream. He'll properly apologize then, for pretending not to come see you perform today. It's an arduous journey to jailbreak one's sister, but he is nothing if not dedicated. Plus, you're the best little sister in the world, he has every faith that you'll excel at anything you put your mind to. The pecks to your forehead and affirmations of brotherly love lull you to sleep.

Copyright © 2025 deer1nheadlight. All rights reserved.

[the-case-book-of-fanfiction]

Crawl Home To Her

Ship: Astarion x fem!Tav/reader

Summary: As awful the feeling of blood on the skin is, sometimes it can be helpful, you have to admit. At least, when it comes to Astarion, blood is always helpful. You'll have to take his word for it—and that's oh so easy bathing with him.

Word Count: 5,461 words

Warnings: sexual content (18+) blood, gore, nudity, sexual & non-sexual touching, bathing each other, soft Astarion, established relationship, brief mention of past sexual encounter, dealing with past trauma, teasing from Karlach, mention of dismemberment, fluff & smut mix

18+ Warnings: brief fingering (f receiving), tiny bit of a hair kink, sensual touching, semi-public sex/nudity

Note: Part 2 of Burns Like Rum is coming soon! But here's a little something to tithe you over until the sequel (Sweet Like Rum) is ready!

☟ Continue below the fold ☟

Shafts of pale sunlight fell on your face as you walked through the forest, your arms swinging at your sides, small critters running amok in the bushes around you. Birdsong filled your ears, pleasantly light and summery, reminding you distantly of a childhood memory you couldn't quite reach. The weather was warm enough that you were thinking you might have to change into something lighter. The few weapons you had on you were already starting to make you break out into a sweat.

For a day that had started with murder, the weather was surprisingly nice.

You hummed as you walked—the song pulled from your childhood, the words long forgotten but pieces of the melody clunking around in your head. You strung them together the best you could, tapping out a rhythm against your leg.

You were on your way to the waterfall you'd spotted several days ago while hunting. It was small and nothing too violent. The pool it fell into wasn't deep enough to drown you, nor was the flow of water all that fast. You trusted it—and the rock ledge behind it—would suit your purposes quite nicely.

Coming upon the pool was like stepping into one of the fairytales you had heard in your youth, sitting upon your father's knee in a tavern, listening to a traveller tell a story you weren't sure was entirely true.

It was guarded by willow trees with branches that swayed in a breeze you hadn't felt until you came upon them. Pushing the curtain of branches away revealed an almost perfectly circular clearing, the ground covered in vibrant green moss that squished delightfully beneath your feet and sprung back up when you stepped off of it. Patches of flowers sprouted all around, pink and yellow and purple blooms that grew up to the sun. The pool was as blue as the sky above, clear and shallow, surrounded by a few feet of soft white sand. The water shimmered in the sunlight, rippling over the pebbles that covered its floor. From the pool, the water flowed into a thin river that could hardly be called a river and out into the woods.

You sat by the pool's edge and pulled off your boots. They were just as bloody as the rest of you, the sticky and quickly drying substance staining the black leather. You splashed water over them and scrubbed with a cloth you had designated for this purpose that had once been grey.

Only after your boots were clean did you stand back up and step into the soft sand. You wiggled your toes, smiling at the feeling. You breathed in the crisp, sweet air. It smelled faintly of flowers and citrus, a scent that was familiar, though you couldn't place it.

You stripped slowly, hissing and wincing as you tugged at the places where blood had stuck the fabric to your skin. It acted like glue when dry, staining your skin and leaving a mottled pattern across your flesh. The fabric of your shirt had grown stiff with semi-dried blood.

One by one, you pulled off belts and straps holding weapons, the gloves you protected your hands with, your shirt, your trousers—until you were standing naked at the pool's edge. You gave yourself a cursory inspection, searching for any wounds you had acquired in the fighting this morning that you hadn't noticed; it wouldn't be the first time you'd walked away from a fight and realized you were injured only hours later. But, this time, there was nothing.

Usually it was Astarion who noticed you were injured, catching your smell in the air when it shouldn't have been. But you were drenched in so much blood already that you imagined it would have been very hard to pick out your distinct scent.

You waded into the pool, taking your clothes with you, and sat at it's deepest point. Standing, it reached your knees; sitting, it almost came to your shoulders. You scrubbed the blood from your clothes, using the soap you had brought with you.

You watched the blood and soap swirl together in the water and flow toward the river, a thin stream of red and bubbles slipping away from the crimson cloud surrounding you. You almost felt bad to ruin the clarity of the water, but the others—back at camp—were taking far too long to wash the blood from themselves with your limited store of water. This was better, in the long run.

Astarion would have a field day with this if this wasn't goblin blood, you thought to yourself, staring at the blood drifting just below the surface. He would drink it, from time to time, but never happily.

You scrubbed at your clothes until your fingers were stiff and sore and the blood was no longer coming out of the fabric. You inspected them and deemed them clean enough to put back on the moss, spread out so they would dry faster.

To clean yourself, you headed toward the waterfall. You climbed up onto the stone ledge behind it, reveling in the surprisingly gentle spray of water that reached you and the stillness of the water that it fell into, high enough to reach your knees.

You stepped under the water. It cascaded over you, dousing you in its coolness that reminded you of the first time Astarion had ever touched you—

—gentle hands, cascading down your sides—fingers lifting your chin so you would meet his gaze—a kiss to your forehead—a hand on the small of your back—his lips on your own, warmer than you had anticipated—his fingers in your hair, keeping your head off the ground—his hand slipping between your legs—his little giggle when you shuddered beneath him—the pleasured sigh from his lips as he slid inside of you—

Stepping out from underneath the water, you shook your head, banishing the memory. You had spoken recently about all of this. He'd told you, "I don't think I want you to think of me in terms of sex." He'd said, "I don't want to be just a body for you, darling." And though he'd teased you that you were more than welcome to "sustain yourself" (his words) with your memories of him while he took time away from intimacy, some part of you still felt like you violating his wishes any time it was his body that you thought of, rather than of, well, just him.

You wiped the water from your eyes and knew your tears had mixed in with it; Astarion had been very vulnerable with you, so you knew his reasons for it all. You had two responses: either unbearable sorrow that he had been forced to endure it all (which the current cause of the crushing weight in your chest), or blinding rage that birthed the desire to see Cazador's head on a spear.

You carded your hands through your wet hair, trying to work out the tangles. Your fingers came away covered in watery blood.

"Mind if I join you?"

You jumped, eyes flying open, and looked up. Leaning against the stone wall was the vampire himself, a gentle smile on his face. Gods, how you loved that smile. In this light, you couldn't tell his eyes were red and his fangs were hidden. If you didn't pay attention to how pale he was, you could imagine he was just an elf again—the life he deserved.

Astarion still wore his clothes, which were slowly darkening as they soaked up the spray of water and splattered with as much blood as his handsome face, but his boots were placed neatly next to yours on the moss. He'd cleaned them already; how had you not heard him before?

While he waited for your answer, aware of your admiring gaze on him, he pulled his shirt off over his head, mussing the curls you loved so much. He stripped quickly, nearly falling over when his trouser leg caught on his foot, and left his clothes in a pile on the rock ledge. Perhaps you were imagining things, but his skin looked paler than it had this morning, when you'd been rudely awoken by a horde of goblins invading your camp.

You held your arms open to him. "I'd like that very much."

He stepped into your arms, wrapped his own around your waist, and buried his head in your neck, breathing in deeply. "My love," he whispered, his lips against your skin. He kissed your neck softly and pulled away, cupping your face in his hand, to look into your eyes. "Are you alright?"

You nodded. "I'm okay."

"No injuries this time?" Astarion's eyes slid down your naked body, examining, his gaze concerned when it had once been sensual. You felt yourself relax in his arms, at ease with his concern. It felt real, honest in a way you hadn't had a chance to be yet. It was natural, somehow, to be checking each other for injuries in the time you finally caught together, away from the others.

"Not this time," you said, leaning into him. More watery blood dripped from your hair and across his chest, leaving streaks that made it look like he'd just returned from a rather messy feeding.

He kissed the top of your wet head. "Good." He leaned away to smile at you. "I was worried you'd run off to take care of your injuries by yourself, if only to keep me from smelling the blood."

You shook your head. "If only we'd been attacked by something you could drink from, satisfy your hunger for a few days." He smiled weakly and you knew the thought had been on his mind, too. "What about you? Are you okay?"

He spread his arms and did a little twirl for you. You giggled at his antics, glancing over his skin, pleased he was comfortable enough to even be naked with you. "Yes, darling. Not a scratch on me."

The two of you looked at each other, your hair already damp and clinging to your head, and his curls slowly being matted down by the thick mist of the waterfall. His ears poked out, more noticeable than normal.

Astarion bent and picked up your bar of soap. "May I help you wash off all this grime?"

"Please," you said, your voice soft but as loving as you could make it, your eyes fixed firmly on his.

He lathered his hands with soap and scrubbed gently at your skin. His nails, kept trimmed and neat, were hardly more than a light sensation as he worked at the dried blood until it crumbled away from your skin and ran down your body in red rivulets. His touch was soft, caring where it had once been lustful and groping. You leaned into his touch, enjoying the sensation of his fingers digging into your tired muscles, and held him. You adjusted your hold on him as he moved across your body—an arm draped across his shoulders, a hand on his bicep, your fingers against his chest, your head on his shoulder.

You looked up at Astarion, blinking quickly to keep the water out of your eyes. His gaze remained fixated on your hips as he gently washed off the blood, but he smiled, aware of your stare.

"See something you like?" he asked, tone playful.

"Someone I love," you corrected. He looked up at you, a tender smile growing on his lips. "Someone I love dearly." You leaned close, cupped one side of his face, and kissed the other. "I love you, Astarion."

He kissed your cheek, too. "And I love you." His lips found yours. He kissed you with a sweetness that simultaneously broke your heart and mended it. You wrapped your arms around his waist. He hummed happily into your mouth and cradled the back of your neck.

The pair of you fell into a tight embrace. You felt the adrenaline drain from you and leave you limp in his arms, your hot skin going cold under the water. Despite how suddenly you must have slumped against him, Astarion held you with ease. He gave the crown of your head a quick kiss, then made an unpleasant sound of surprise from the back of his throat.

"Darling, do you mind if I wash your hair? There's an awful lot of goblin blood in it."

You forced yourself to stand up straight on your own, still holding his sides for support. "Oh, yes—that would be from Karlach throwing one she'd just chopped into over my head." Even as you said the words, you felt the blood splattering into your hair again and shuddered.

Astarion grimaced. "Let me help you with it, then." He lathered his hands and put them in your hair. As he fell into a rhythm, you closed your eyes and let him doing the work, your thoughts drifting...

At first, you weren't sure why you had even woken in the first place. The light coming in through a crack in the tent's opening was still the watery and grey color of pre-dawn, much earlier than you usually woke. You frowned and pushed back into Astarion, his arm squeezing you tighter, sleep once again tugging at your eyelids.

And then you heard a shout, vicious and loud. It was close to camp, maybe even in camp. The shout came again and you realized it was Lae'zel's war cry.

All at once, the sounds of a battle filled your ears. You jerked awake in an instant, clambering onto your knees and shaking Astarion awake next to you. Of course the one day Astarion decided to indulge in the very human activity of sleep was the day you and your friends were attacked.

"What's going on?" he mumbled as his eyes flickered open, his words slurred together.

"Come on, grab your knives," you said, pulling your lightest set of armor on over your clothes. You were suddenly very relieved Astarion had decided skin to skin contact was a bit too much for him last night. "I think we're under attack."

He woke just as quickly as you had. He swore, dragged a quick hand through his hair, and grabbed his knives. He waited until you had your own weapon in hand before he opened the curtain flap of his tent.

The camp was a sight to behold. Already it was trashed and overflowing with goblins. Some were already on the ground, their blood oozing everywhere in the dirt and grass. Gashes from Lae'zel's sword seeped blood and gristle, if she hadn't horribly disfigured the corpses and turned them into little more than lumps of flesh. Many of them bore scorch marks that ranged from minor burns to melting flesh. It smelled horrendous and nearly acidic; you bit back the bile in your throat.

A dismembered arm fell at your foot. You kicked it away on instinct, looking up to see Karlach ripping a second goblin limb from limb.

"Now that's just vile," Astarion said, still looking at the arm, a fang poking out over his curled lip.

"Complain about it later," you said, grabbing his chin and giving him a quick and customary 'good morning' kiss. "We've got to help the others."

"If you insist."

Astarion ran to Karlach's side; you headed for Shadowheart and Gale. Wyll was approaching, too, cutting a path through the goblins.

"Morning, you two!" you said cheerily. "How'd this happen?"

"We're not sure," Shadowheart said, kicking a goblin in the face as it ran at her with a scream. "Lae'zel said they came from the north, just over those hills."

"Odd. I wonder if we camped too close to them for their liking, and now they're trying to do something about it. Are goblins territorial creatures?"

Gale grunted, casting another fireball. "Enough chatting. Let's just kill these things and figure out where they came from and why later. Got it?"

"Fair enough," you decided. "Whoever kills the most chooses dinner for a week."

"I'll take you up on that," Wyll said from behind you. "I'm dreaming of a good meal for once."

Astarion's hands sliding out of your hair abruptly brought you back to reality, to his body pressed against yours and the waterfall at your back, shielding the two of you from the world.

"Where'd you go?" he asked, voice soft. You could feel his fingers toying with the ends of your hair, curling it on his fingers.

"Back to the fight," you admitted. "I just keep wondering how they snuck up on us."

"No matter now," he said. "We'll let Lae'zel criticize us all for not anticipating every possible disaster when we get back, but not yet. Not here."

He went back to massaging your scalp, despite the blood being long gone, and your sighed happily. He smiled and kissed your forehead, adding pressure. A content whimper slipped from your lips and you blushed instantly as his eyes lit up; he'd heard far more obscene from you, yet still the slightest sounds you made embarrassed you and delighted him.

"My, my, the noises you make for me, lover," he teased, giggling. He wrapped his hand in your hair and tugged, hard enough to draw a loud moan out of your chest.

Astarion covered your mouth with his hand, his eyes playfully wide. "Shhh, unless you want the others to come looking. We're not that far away from camp."

Heat rushed through your body. "Oh, gods, Astarion, I'm— I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to— And I certainly didn't expect it to be that...that loud—! I..."

He swallowed your frantic apologies with a kiss. Against your lips, he whispered, "If you can keep quiet, though...I can grant you all the pleasure you want. You need only ask, darling."

Your heart skipped several beats in your chest. You put your hand up to his face. "Oh, I don't... Star, I don't need you to, I wouldn't want you to...feel obligated." He pulled his forehead away from yours to see your face. "We agreed not to do anything until you're ready. And that wasn't that long ago, so... I don't want you to be uncomfortable—"

Astarion cupped your chin with his hand, dragging his thumb across your lower lip. The words died in your throat. He met your gaze, his crimson eyes open and honest, and said, "Your pleasure is a gift. Even if I don't want to be touched yet, that's not stopping me from touching you. Only you can stop me from touching you."

"Star..."

He pulled you into a tight hug. You wrapped your arms around him, suddenly too aware of the raised scar you felt against your arms. "I trust you. Wholeheartedly. I trust you to...to respect my boundaries. To check in with me. To see when I'm uncomfortable. You've already done it, again and again, and proved that you're worthy of that trust. And do I look uncomfortable now?"

You studied him. His pupils were blown. His eyes told a story of contentment. The tenseness you had once noticed laying deep and dormant in his muscles was gone. He looked at you with a fondness you realized now was a profound trust and he stood utterly relaxed in your arms.

So you answered him honestly. "No."

"Exactly, darling. I'm not uncomfortable. I want to do this for you, if that's what you also want. I feel...safe with you. I've never felt like this around anyone before," he admitted, a bit of sadness creeping onto his face, "and I don't want to ruin it. I don't know... I don't know what I'm doing, but I'm going to try to do right by you. So if you want me..." He placed his hand low on your abdomen. Your stomach did flips. He put his lips against the shell of your ear. "Tell me, darling, because I certainly want you. All I ask is that you not touch me, not just yet."

You whimpered. "Please, Star. I promise not to touch you, I promise. But please touch me."

"That's my girl," he whispered. "Spread your legs for me, no need to be so nervous."

You readjusted your stance, widening the space between your previously clenched thighs. His hand filled the gap, cupping you gently. You sighed, leaning your head against his chest again, looking down to watch his ministrations.

Astarion pressed his palm to your clit. You watched his wrist move as he slid his fingers along your slit, teasing you and never quite touching you where you needed him. You whimpered as his fingertip lightly ghosted your entrance, just barely dipping inside before he moved his hand back up, his fingers toying with your clit.

"That's it," he whispered in your ear. "Make those quiet, pretty sounds for me. Show me how you feel."

You rocked your hips against his hand. "Astarion, please..."

He kissed your temple. "Feeling good?"

Your broken moan was your answer. He chuckled, sliding his hand up your side, taking your breast in the palm of his hand. He rolled your nipple between his fingers, making you gasp and buck your hips against him. He closed his lips around it and sucked gently.

"More," you whispered. "Please. I need...I need you."

"Alright, darling, alright," he said against your skin. He rubbed your entrance for another moment, then slid his finger inside you. You clenched down on him as you sighed your pleasure. He curled his finger inside you, rubbing away at your walls, and you gasped loudly.

Astarion grinned. "Make those noises. Moan for me. I want you to show me how good this feels, show me you want me." You gripped tightly onto him, one hand on the back of his neck and the other on his hip. Your breaths grew heavy and your whimpers louder. "Yes, that's it! Be loud for me, my sweet, the loudest you've ever—"

A branch cracked in the forest. A voice called out your name, then Astarion's. You jumped a mile and Astarion's finger slipped out of you. You stared at each other with wide eyes.

"D...did you hear that?" you asked. "Or am I hearing things?"

As if an answer, the voice—Gale's—shouted again, "I know you're over here, I can see your boots!"

"Shit," Astarion sighed. He craned his head to peer around the curtain of water. "What the hells do you want?"

"Is she with you?" Gale asked. "Shadowheart sent me to find you both, the rest of us have all finished washing up! There's water left for you."

"That's what we're trying to do, Gale!" you called, reaching an arm through the waterfall and waving at him. "Use the water for something else, we'll make do here."

He harrumphed. "If I had known this was just a few minutes away from camp, I would have come to wash up here ages ago."

You and Astarion exchanged a look. So much for a secret getaway spot.

"Be back soon, or Karlach will start worrying," Gale said, in the tone of a chiding parent. "And no funny business!"

"Oh, shut up!" Astarion shouted, the tips of his ears turning a deep pink. He ducked behind the water again and holding you close. You barely held back your giggles while the two of you listened for Gale to walk away. One slipped out and Astarion hurriedly covered your mouth with his hand. You licked his palm and he pulled it away quickly. "You weirdo!"

You wrapped your arms around him and leaned into his chest. "Yes, but I'm your weirdo. You love me anyway."

Astarion pushed a strand of your wet hair behind your ear. "I love you anyway," he admitted, with a fondness that turned you into mush in his arms. He held you close for several moments, then asked, "Do you want me to continue?"

You thought about it, then shook your head. "Not just now. I suspect Karlach will be on her way to investigate the waterfall I didn't have the decency tell anyone about very soon."

"Very well," he said. "I'll finish you off later in my tent, then. As long as you can keep quiet for me, darling." He gave you that charming smile that made your stomach do flips.

"I thought you liked me loud," you teased.

Astarion rolled his eyes, playful and flirtation in such a comfortable way that it warmed your heart more than any of his touches ever could, delightful as they were. "Only when I have you all to myself, lover." He nipped at your neck, his fangs scratching but not breaking your skin. "Your moans are mine."

You stood together like that for several more moments, his hands on your hips and your arms looped around his neck, your foreheads pressed together. You exchanged dainty kisses, basking in each other in the few minutes left you had alone.

At last, you planted one firm, lingering kiss to his lips. "Let me clean you off," you said. "Though you're going to have to crouch for me to get your hair." Most of the blood and grime had been washed away by the waterfall's spray, but his silver hair was still speckled with it all, and you could taste it on his lips—sour and gritty. No wonder he only drank from goblins as a last resort.

Astarion bent his head down, pressing his forehead into your shoulder and holding you by the waist. You ran your fingers through his hair, scratching his scalp and smiling (but saying nothing) every time your touch managed to pull a soft whimper or moan from him without him realizing it.

You washed his body anyway, wiping away the remaining grime and massaging his muscles. You enjoyed the way he relaxed in your arms, quietly asking for more or less pressure.

"My back," he said, voice quiet and almost timid. "Can you...?"

"Are you sure?" you asked, frowning.

He nodded and turned in your arms, exposing his back to you. You started slowly, massaging his upper back and shoulders before working your way down, giving him plenty of time to tell you to stop if he needed to. But he leaned into your touch and responded with more of those gentle and timid—but happy—sounds.

You kissed the nape of his neck when you were finished, rested your head against his back, and wrapped your arms around his waist. His hands found yours and laced your fingers together.

"Thank you, my love," he said. "I've never... No one has ever done that for me before."

You hugged him tighter. "Any time you need me—I'm here. I will always be here." You stepped away and guided him out of the water with a hand. "Come on, we should head back."

The pair of you helped each other dress, though neither of you were wearing anything that required the help. You suspected Astarion just wanted to keep you close; when he got into his cuddly moods, it lasted for hours at a time. You would sleep wrapped up in your vampire's arms, safe and comfortable, tonight.

You were both pulling on your boots when Karlach found you.

"There you are!" she said. "Why didn't you tell us where you'd run off to?"

You shrugged. "I wanted the peace and quiet," you said honestly. "Besides, you all take forever to clean off."

Astarion snickered. "She's right about that."

Karlach sat on the moss, staring at the waterfall. "Well, you're right about one thing, soldier—this place is peaceful."

You hummed your agreement. "Yes. I'm glad we camped near it, or I never would have found it."

"How did you find this place?" she asked.

"Hunting," you said.

"Really? I assumed it must have been when you and Astarion sneak out so the rest of us can't hear you having sex." You choked on air and she laughed. "What? He found it easily!"

Astarion spluttered. "Because I could smell her!"

You sighed. "Karlach, we stopped sneaking off ages ago. We don't need to, we sleep in the same tent now. Rest assured, if anything is happening, it's happening silently and the rest of you are none the wiser to it."

"That doesn't make me rest assured."

You laughed. Astarion smiled at you, the kind of smile that made his eyes seem a little less dark and made you really remember that he was an elf.

"Well, I don't know about you two, but I'm going back to camp," he said. "I'm sure there's much to discuss about these...impertinent creatures who keep attacking us." He kissed your cheek and whispered into your ear, "I'll see you tonight, darling. What we do is up to you."

Before he could leave, you reached over and held his cheek, kissing him firmly on the lips. He smiled into it.

"Lovebirds," Karlach groaned, rolling her eyes, "will you please get a room?"

"The next time we stop at an inn—yes," Astarion said, winked at you, then disappeared into the woods.

You gulped. "I pity whoever is in the room next to us."

Karlach snorted. "I pity you and your poor cervix!"

"Karlach!" You splashed her with water and she roared with laughter.

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding! Only slightly."

You huffed, scooped up your weapons, and started back to camp. Karlach followed.

"I mean, in all honesty, you two were so loud that first time we all heard you at camp, even though you snuck away. Kept us all awake, but you sounded like you were having a good time. So clearly he's doing something right, but can you take all of that every time? You were walking with a limp the next morning—"

"Okay, let's change the subject," you said loudly, heat racing through your body. Remembrance pulsed through you again, ghostly touches and reminders of just how easily Astarion made you scream.

She giggled. Gods, she was spending too much time with you and Astarion; he was rubbing off on her. "Oh, yes, because what would poor Gale say if he heard?"

You rolled your eyes. "It's not Gale I'm worried about, it's Astarion. If he hears you, he's going to become insufferable."

"Isn't he already?"

You whacked her with the flat end of your sheathed dagger. She laughed, putting her hands up in surrender.

The others were cleaning up camp when you arrived, scrubbing blood from tents and carpets and hauling away corpses and severed limbs.

Gale waved when he saw you, then jerked his thumb toward Astarion. "Didn't he just wash?"

You looked over at your vampire, only to find him feeding on a goblin. He looked up at you and grinned sheepishly, a trickle of blood sliding out of his mouth and down his neck.

"I just washed him, actually," you said dryly. "Astarion, you aren't that messy of an eater. What on earth are you doing?"

"Oh, so now you deign to eat the goblins," Karlach scoffed.

He shrugged. "What? I'm hungry!"

You spluttered. "You could have just asked me!"

Astarion wiped his mouth with a feral grin. "Well, I'll keep that in mind later, darling." He winked at you and then blew you a quick kiss. He shoved the carcass into the woods and went into his tent, closing the flap behind him.

Gale sighed heavily before looking back at you. "That one. Are you sure you want to choose that one?"

"Yes, Gale, I want that one."

He shrugged. "Suit yourself."

~❊~

Night fell. One by one, the others retired to their tents. Only Karlach and Gale remained awake when you left the fire and slipped into Astarion's tent.

He was laying on his side, reading and drinking blood, the picture of leisure. He closed his book immediately when you laid beside him and pulled you flush against his body.

"There you are," he said, snuggling into your shoulder. "I was beginning to wonder if you were coming."

You reached up and dragged your fingers through his perfect curls. "You don't have to wonder about that ever, Star. As long as I live, I'll be coming home to you. Even if I have to crawl."

"Gods, I love you," he said, wrapping himself around you. You kissed the top of his head.

"I love you, too," you whispered. He sighed happily and cuddled into you, sliding one of his legs between your own and settling there. A few minutes later, you felt the pressure of his knee against your clothed crotch. "What are you doing, mister?"

He grinned at you, showing both fangs. "Finishing what I started," he said cheekily. He began undoing the lacing at the front of your pants. "Now, just lay still for me, dear. And please do your best to keep quiet—I'd hate to have to cover that pretty mouth with my hand. Again."

☞ ❊ ☜

[Image Caption: I do not give permission to repost, translate, or publish my work on any other site or app by anyone except myself. I do not give permission for my work to be fed into AI (for audio, art, or writing).]

Baldur's Gate 3 // Astarion Acunin

Taglist: {comment and let me know if you'd like to be added to the Astarion taglist!} @wayward-hel @cheeslyy @ofmyth-andmagicart @neetheslayer @whispering-depths @freesidexjunkie @lightsinmycity @the0ldmann @gobbodoggo @oooof-ifellforyou @beeblisss @fangboner @aquaarietes @fiercest-eigengrau-skies @niqhtfell @call-me-nyxx @lueji-m @ceres-xiv @tricksy-trinity @graynstairs @rosa-rubus @ynisthatyou

[daistea]

I need to make that man jealous. I need to see him riled up. I need to see him lose his cool. I need to be the center of his focus. Kicking my feet, twirling the phone cord, rolling over in bed, giggling, like "What do you think he'd do to me if he found out?"

I got u. rubs my filthy trash hands together 

3,700ish words

tw violence, mildly unhealthy relationship dynamics, language, slightly suggestive, Fleki

gn reader x mithrun, established relationship

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

 There are layers to Mithrun’s possessiveness.

Layer 1: Caution

You looked nice. Too nice. While Mithrun had a habit of staring, he never gawked. To gawk would imply a certain sort of pathetic desperation. Mithrun was desperate for you, but not pathetically so. 

How you looked at that moment was gawk-worthy, though. He only tilted his head, gaze roaming over your body as you leaned on the dining table, organizing your belongings. Your legs, your hair, your chest, your arms, your shoulders, your back, your—

It wasn’t acceptable.

“You’re going to Cithis’s house, you said?” Mithrun asked. His voice was level, even, with no betrayal towards the slowly growing flame burning within him.

You nodded and sent him a smile, “Yeah. Did you change your mind about coming?”

Yes? No. Mithrun felt himself tense, “I’ll think about it.”

He had zero interest in a party. He had zero interest in drinking and listening to people chatter all night. What he was interested in, though, was keeping an eye on you.

Mithrun’s fist clenched. He dug his nails into his palm, causing a light sting to run through his nerves. You dressed like that for this party? He trusted you to behave, but he didn’t trust anybody else. The thought of people looking at you, their eyes raking down you; the thought of others desiring you… It filled him with a taut, vibrating anger. He was a rope pulled too tightly, about to snap.

Mithrun was definitely going to that party, and he’d stay by your side the entire time. With his arms around you and his gaze roaming the room, nobody would dare bother you.

He won’t get into fights, usually, he won’t be dramatic or loud, but you know when he’s feeling possessive. He gets a dark look in his eye, he holds you tightly, he watches people like a wolf stalking a rabbit. His expression and vibes are usually enough to scare away potential threats.

Mithrun isn’t jealous out of insecurity. He’s jealous because you’re one of his few desires and he refuses to lose you to anyone. Simple.

He’s very shameless about it. 

The next layer to his jealousy/possessiveness is slightly more intense, though, and a bit more rare. 

Layer 2: Enter At Your Own Risk 

The streets of Melini were more crowded as of late. New people had come to check out the nation, and it made shopping for simple groceries difficult. 

You’d given Mithrun the task of locating the vegetable stand. He went without question, doing as you asked and slipping through the sea of bodies. With a moment to yourself, you hitched your woven basket into the crook of your elbow and inspected the fabrics stall. The little house you shared with Mithrun needed new curtains. 

 You ran a finger over a certain fabric, admiring the weave pattern. Yet, a shadow cast itself over the stall and a sudden presence to your right stole away your attention. 

 “Hey,” a man said. You looked up to meet his eyes. He was just a guy, perhaps his smile was a little too confident, but he seemed relatively normal. “You wanna know what material I’m wearing?”

Not particularly. But before you could reply, the man continued, “It’s called boyfriend material. Wanna touch?”

That had to be the worst pick up line you’d ever heard. Should you even dignify it with a response? You felt your expression twist into one of disgust without realizing it. And the man tensed as he noticed his lack of success.

“Let me try again!” He pleaded, “I promise, I’m a nice guy, I just wanted to make you laugh. I saw you from across the street and I think you’re beautiful. I couldn’t not talk to you, you know? I just had—“

You didn’t hear the rest of his words. Your focus immediately turned to the approaching storm. It was like watching dark clouds roll in, hearing thunder shake the world. 

Mithrun lifted his chin a little. He clenched his fist. In his other arm were several potatoes, exactly what you asked him to get. The breeze ruffled his hair. It was the worst kind of anger in his eye, the calm kind. Mithrun’s head was clear. He knew precisely what he was doing. 

Slowly, you shook your head, shooting him a warning look.

Mithrun ignored you. 

He stalked closer as his good eye narrowed. His nose wrinkled just a little, betraying his fury. His shoulders were tense and his knuckles were white as he picked up and potato and—

“No!” You commanded. Mithrun froze, obeying you, but he didn’t look happy about it. The flirty guy also froze with wide eyes.

“No?” The guy asked.

“Not you,” you hissed, then pointed at Mithrun who stood behind the guy, a potato in his hand and only inches away from the guy's back. “Mithrun, I swear to god, if you use your teleporting magic to switch out someone’s literal beating heart with a potato again, I’m making you sleep outside tonight.”

Mithrun was pissed. But he knew you meant it. He turned his gaze onto you, challenging you, daring you to stop him. You maintained eye contact, refusing to back down. He could not brutalize the people of Melini just because they thought you were pretty. The guy was annoying, but innocent. 

Finally, Mithrun’s jaw clenched, but he backed down. He lowered the potato of death and took a step away. The flirty guy was staring at him with wide, terrified eyes.

Mithrun nodded his head to the left, “Go.”

“Yes sir!” The man said before scurrying away.

You knew your boyfriend was going to spend the next few hours a bit grumpy, a bit clingy and touchy, but… You actually didn’t mind that. It sent a thrill, a heat, up your spine.

He’ll calm down in a bit. It’s just offensive that someone would even try to take you.

Of course, you remind him that that’s unreasonable. That guy had no idea you were already in a relationship. 

Mithrun does not give a damn about reason and logic right now.

He can be a little scary. It’s nice…

Level 4: The Danger Zone

Due to being a loyal partner, purposefully making Mithrun jealous was not on your agenda. He would never do that to you, you’d never do that to him. It was cut and dry. Simple. 

Except, an old friend of yours was visiting Melini and had sent you a letter to announce his arrival. The handwriting on the letter was familiar, filling you with warm nostalgia. You hadn’t realized that you were smiling at his sweet words until Mithrun’s voice tore you from your thoughts. 

“Are they announcing another sale at the bakery?” He asked. It almost didn’t sound like a question with how flat his tone was. 

You looked up to see him in the kitchen nearby, his back to you as he slowly chopped at a green onion. His hair was pulled into a stubby ponytail, but locks of white still fell around his cheeks. You swore, sometimes that elf had eyes in the back of his head. 

“You think I’d be smiling like this at a sale announcement?” You asked dryly. 

“Yes, actually.”

He was right. You hated it when he was right. 

You always told Mithrun the truth, there were no secrets on your end. Mithrun, of course, had his little secrets that you would eventually discover. Like the time you desperately wanted a very pretty coat in the store, but someone else had already bought it, and Mithrun had Cithis brainwash the buyer into giving it to you. For months, you wore that coat thinking ‘wow how nice that they just gave it to me!’ 

Or the time the sequel to one of your favorite books was delayed. And Mithrun disappeared for two days without notice, then came back with an unbound manuscript of the book. You asked how he got it, he said he ‘knows a guy.’ In reality, he broke into the author’s house and stole the manuscript. 

The man was dedicated, you could give him that. 

Yet he kept secrets. Mithrun’s moral compass didn’t always point North and he didn’t care enough to fix it. You thought it was cute half the time, other times it caused a bit of trouble. In the case of your old friend, it would only cause trouble. 

So, for once, you decided to keep a secret. 

“No, it’s actually a sale at the butcher’s,” you lied, “buy one get one free on pork.”

Mithrun hummed in thought, “We could stock up and do a special on pork ramen.”

“We could do that, yeah.”

You hated lying. Now you had to somehow acquire an obscene amount of pork for the shop. 

You decided to tackle that challenge later. For now, your friend would be arriving soon, and you had to figure out how to meet him without raising suspicion. 

No matter how hard you try, suspicion rises like the tide. 

Mithrun isn’t paranoid about what you do in your time away from him. He has the tendency to be a bit codependent, but resists that urge (Kabru told him it was unfair to both of you to put all of his happiness on your shoulders. He begrudgingly agreed. Stupid Kabru and his stupid emotional intelligence.)

So, you go to do your thing. Whatever. He busies himself with one of his weird little hobbies, but Mithrun has a certain instinct for trouble. Something inside of him is telling him to beware, making him antsy. He doesn’t like these new feelings brought on by having a desire for you. It makes his knee bounce and his fingers restless. 

He looks at the fireplace. In the hearth, there’s the corner of a piece of parchment. Why was there parchment in the fireplace? Were you burning papers? Letters?

You were smiling so sweetly at the mail earlier…

He’s up and stalking across the house within seconds, out the door and into the streets of Melini. 

 Perhaps you were too trusting. Perhaps you were naive. Perhaps you were stupid. 

Ages ago, this particular old friend asked to marry you. You refused, of course, because you weren’t ready to get married and you didn’t feel that way about him. He asked again. And again. And again. It was annoying, but you decided to stay his friend because of your history together. 

Now that you had taken a moment to look back on said history, you realized…

This old friend had been trying to court you for years. 

“I heard you have a partner,” your friend said. His smile was tight and the grip on his utensil was even tighter. 

You forced a smile, “Yeah. Mithrun. He’s great.”

“Tell me about him.”

Where to start with Mithrun? It was a safe subject, at least. Your old friend knew about your relationship and would hopefully respect it. 

“Well, he’s—”

Your friend interrupted, “Is he handsome?”

Odd, but not unexpected. You nodded, “Yeah, I mean, he’s an elf so I don’t know if handsome is the right word. More like absurdly beautiful.”

Friend tensed in his chair. You saw his shoulders roll as if he was preparing himself for a fight. “Cool. Cool. Is he funny? Does he make you smile? Does he kiss good?”

You were definitely too trusting and naive. 

“Yes to all?”

“Is he good in bed?”

Your hands shot up as if you could physically repel the questions, “I don’t really want to talk about that.”

“You don’t want to talk about your boyfriend?” Friend asked, his eyes widening, “I thought you loved him. Is there perhaps trouble in paradise? You know you can always vent to me about it. I’m a shoulder to cry on.”

Had your friend always been like this? Surely not. You had good times together. There was that one time he made you laugh so hard you choked on water and he got so scared that he gave you the heimlich. Sure, his hands weren’t in the right place for the heimlich, instead landing on your chest, but—

Oh Lord. He’s always been this bad. 

With your food uneaten and a churning in your stomach, you began to stand up from your seat. “I don’t think this was a good idea, honestly.”

His eyes widened again, “Really? I think it’s a great idea. I came all the way to Melini to see you!”

“Yeah, that’s the problem. Listen, our lives have changed and I’m with Mithrun now and—”

Friend shot out of his seat, rounding the edge of the table before you could back away. His face was desperate and he was already breathing heavily. Nearby, the welcome bell rang as someone stepped into the cafe, but the usually pleasant noise was muffled to your ears. Friend put his hands where they didn’t belong, on your waist. That was Mithrun’s spot, that’s where Mithrun's hands went. He yanked you close and dread filled your chest.

This couldn’t be happening. 

His lips were on yours. You tried to pull away, your eyes squeezing shut. His grip was strong and your mind was racing with panic. Your hands landed on his chest to push him back and—

He ripped himself away. Or, rather, he didn’t rip himself, but he was ripped, like a yanked-off bandage. You opened your eyes to see Mithrun, and relief instantly flooded your system. 

But the calming, warm waters of your relief drained as you noticed the look on Mithrun’s face. He was naturally rather blank most of the time, yet at the moment, his good eye was narrowed, his mouth twisted into a scowl. He held your friend by his hair, ignoring the complaints and pleas and insults from the man. Without warning, Mithrun yanked on the man’s hair and began dragging him through the restaurant. It didn’t matter if your friend was bigger than your boyfriend, Mithrun had more strength and determination and sheer will to kick his ass. 

People gasped and watched with wide eyes. Someone panicked. Waiters and workers approached slowly. Yet, the situation resolved itself. Mithrun pushed the door open, the bell rang cheerily, and he yanked your struggling ‘friend’ out into the street. 

Your heart clenched. It felt as if someone had wrapped their cold fingers around your organs and squeezed. Your legs moved before you could give it a second thought, and you were out the door and chasing down your boyfriend instantly. 

Mithrun had dragged the man into a nearby alleyway and thrown him against the wall. Your ‘friend’ was on the ground, hands coming up to hold his aching head. Mithrun knelt down to wrap his fingers around his neck and—

“Stop right this instant!” You yelled. 

He froze, his eye widening. His hair was a mess and his pupils small with focus. Slowly, he stood up straight, taut like a bowstring being pulled. “Why?”

“Because I said so!” Your throat hurt from how desperately you’d yelled.

“That’s not a very good reason," he retorted through clenched teeth.

“Mithrun,” you seethed, “You cannot just grab people by their hair and drag them around.”

His expression darkened, “He kissed you. Against your will, I’m presuming.”

“Of course it was against my will!” You couldn’t help but wave your arms, a little manic and all-too-aware of the gathering crowd in the street behind you. “But that doesn’t mean you can brutalize him!”

Mithrun tilted his head and looked at you as if you were a child spouting nonsense. “Of course it does.”

“Make him pee his pants!” Someone yelled from the crowd.

“Pee his pants!” Someone else repeated.

“Pee! Pee! Pee!”

“Alright,” Mithrun agreed and turned his attention back to your ‘friend’, who was looking around as if he couldn’t believe what he’d been dragged into, terrified and shivering slightly. 

“Do not make him pee his pants,” you commanded, “I swear to the Gods I will—”

“Twist his dick!” Someone yelled.

Since when did the people of Melini get so violent? You glanced over your shoulder only to see that Fleki had arrived and was encouraging the act of dick twisting. Of course. 

“The ol’ dick twist!” She yelled again. 

Enough. That would’ve made you crack up under any other circumstances, but frankly you had no desire to see your boyfriend twist another man’s dick. Mithrun, being himself, was already kneeling down with the intent of twisting. You stomped up to him, grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, and yanked him away. He allowed it, only making a light noise of surprise and stumbling after you. 

The further you pulled him, the less you could hear of the crowd. They expressed their disappointment, but seemed to be dispersing, unwilling to follow you and Mithrun into the darker parts of the alleyway. You rounded the corner of a building and noted that it was filled with crates and relatively clean. A perfect place to have a fight with one’s partner. 

Mithrun read your mind. He straightened up and pulled from your grip, then folded his arms over his chest and glared--- which wasn’t very different from his usual expression if not for the slight narrowing of his good eye and the hard set of his jaw. 

You returned the look. Unwilling to back down, you met his ink-black gaze and lifted your chin. 

The air thickened. It felt as if your blood had started to thrum, to vibrate within your veins. A rock lodged itself in your throat as you forced yourself to hold the gaze. No backing down. You refused. It had been a horrible day so far and Mithrun’s murderous intent did not make it any better. 

(That was a lie.)

(You didn’t want to acknowledge it, but you wanted him so badly.)

Eventually, Mithrun broke the silence, a rare act on his part in these kinds of situations. “Don’t tell me you actually care about him.”

Your blood thrummed a little higher and you felt a heat rise within your stomach, though whether that heat was from pleasure or anger you weren’t quite sure. “He was my friend at some point, though I’m not sure why. The problem here is moreso that you can’t drag people around by their hair and attack them.”

“He kissed you,” Mithrun hissed through grit teeth. 

“And that sucked, honestly,” you admitted, “but he’s just a pathetic loser.”

“Is this the same guy that’s been in love with you for years?”

You blinked in surprise, “What? I’ve only recently figured that out. How did you know?”

His gaze flattened, “Every story you’ve told me about him gave it away.” Of course. Your cheeks felt warm and you did your best to avoid his quickly intensifying stare. When you had no response, Mithrun continued, “Why did you hide from me that he was coming to visit? Did you like that he kissed you?”

An unpleasant flash of horror crossed through your chest and you gasped, “Of course not!”

Did he even need to ask that? It was absurd. Yet, Mithrun took one slow step toward you. It was the calculated approach of a wild animal on the hunt. Without realizing it, you took one step back. 

Another step forward, and you backed up. Two seconds later, your back hit the wall and Mithrun uncrossed his arms. He pressed his palms flat against the brick on either side of your head.

“I think,” his voice lowered, “that you subconsciously knew he wanted you, that you’ve always known, and that I would be angry at you going to meet him.”

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Heat flared in your lower abdomen and you tried to swallow the lump in your throat. He was so close and you were so weak. 

“Why would I do that?” You managed to ask, though your voice was strained.

“Exactly,” Mithrun said, gravel in his tone. “Why would you do that?”

Curses ran through your mind. The one time you keep a secret from Mithrun, and it ends like this. You’re never doing that again. 

One of his hands left the wall and instead trailed up your waist, slow and savoring. His good eye flickered down to your neck and you had the urge to tilt your head as if to offer him a bite. The thought of him sinking his teeth into you, his body pressed against yours… You were on fire. 

Perhaps you might do this again, on occasion. It could be fun. 

The brick wall was cold on your back. Mithrun’s stare was colder. He leaned in, holding himself up against the wall with one hand, his other hand digging into your hips as if he wanted to sink his fingers through your skin and grip your bones. Harshly, he yanked you closer as his lips crashed against yours. He might’ve drawn a little blood with his teeth. You might’ve had the urge to melt into him. Your legs might’ve almost given out if he hadn’t held you up. 

The heat was consuming. Mithrun’s touch was rough, his kiss hard and laced with the intent to prove a very important point. Every inch of his being was focused on you in that moment. Every ounce of him was yours, and he was determined to prove that you were his in return. He broke the kiss but wasted no time in attacking your neck, hot breath fanning over your skin, teeth and lips scraping down the length and to the curvature where it was most sensitive. As you made an involuntary noise, his grip only tightened. 

And there it was, what you’d been waiting for. He sunk his teeth in. Heat pulsed through your body and you couldn’t help but gasp. You felt what might’ve been his lips upturning into a little smile against your neck. 

But Mithrun suddenly pulled away and blinked, and stared, and let out a soft exhale. The heat died like water dousing a flame. You stared back. He didn’t look ruffled in the least. His cheeks were pale as always, his eyes dull. The only sign that you’d been kissing was the light sheen on his lips. Meanwhile, you were a complete mess. You could only guess how you looked at that moment. Judging by how his eye flickered up and down your body, it was probably a sight. 

Mithrun pulled back. He stood up straight and walked away casually. 

“Where–” the words lodged in your throat and you had to force them out, “Where’re you going?”

He raised a hand as he walked, “The butcher actually is having a sale on pork. I need to get some before he closes.”

Without him to hold you up, you slowly sunk to the ground, pulling your knees to your chest. 

No more secrets, you decided, feeling especially dead inside as you stared at a nearby crate. No more secret keeping. 

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

[wife-of-all-dilfs]

lionfish, seahorses, and dolphins, oh my! | f. odair

masterlist

anon's request: noo bc i've been thinking about this for a while (all the time) imagine the reader from district 8 who's with finnick always sewing random fish patterns into his clothes or any cloth-related items bc of his district!!!

warnings: just some cutesy fluff, very very mild suggestive themes

notes: i couldn't not write this request it's so cute. very rushed because i've got another fic in the works ;) stay tuned my beautiful readers <3

word count: 800

Finnick would always invite girlfriend!reader to District Four because this man has major attachment issues, so you practically live at his house and are both attached to the hip. And one day he would find this little lionfish embroidered onto the cuff of his favourite sweater, which oddly resembles the colour of his hair.

His first instinct would be to call out to you. "Sweetheart?"

And you would respond with a "Hm?" from another room in the house, sneakily sewing something onto another item of his clothing. He would be curiously inspecting the little creature that had taken up residence on his shirt as he padded through the house to your whereabouts.

Just as he entered the room you were in, he would begin, "Why is there a—"

He'd cut himself short as he looked up and saw you sitting comfortably in a lounge chair, legs tucked beneath your body, a soft, knitted blanket draped over your lap, and a sewing kit lying on the side table. In your hands were a pair of his pants.

One of his eyebrows raised. "You've got my pants."

You looked up to find him standing in the doorway. "I do," you replied.

He took a step closer. "And you're sewing them."

"I am."

Another step. "And there's a fish sewed onto my sweater..."

You simply smiled at him—an adorable proud little smile. God, you looked so cute he genuinely felt to urge to lean down and pinch your cheeks between his fingers, but then he remembered he was your boyfriend, not your grandmother.

"Not that I'm not in absolute awe of your sewing abilities but—" He chuckled, shaking his head— "why?"

You shrugged, piercing a sewing needle through the waistband of the pants in your lap. "You're from District Four; fishes are kind of your thing, are they not? Plus, it's pretty," you said, then your voice lowered to a soft murmur. "Like you."

His stomach fluttered and he almost giggled like a little girl at your words. Once he got close enough, he kneeled beside the chair you were sitting in, watching as your delicate fingers manoeuvred the needle and yarn into the outline of a seahorse. He smiled to himself.

"Do you think I should start weaving clothes for you? Considering your district's all about making clothes and stuff," he said with a smirk.

"Like a dress made out of netting? It wouldn't leave much to the imagination."

"You won't hear this mouth complaining," Finnick said, the image of you walking around the house clad in a black net dress overcoming his mind.

Your cheeks warmed with a horrible blush and you decided to focus your attention entirely on the seahorse in the effort to overcome the sudden lewd thoughts involving his mouth.

Finnick continued watching in amazement as you managed to turn a few colours of yarn into a beautiful seahorse on the waistband of his pants. He wondered how many other pieces of clothing of his you had managed to infiltrate with various sea creatures. When his eyes caught on a bright blob of colour on the underside of the shirt sleeve he was wearing, he smiled, knowing he had gotten his answer.

His gaze flickered back to you, observing the look of concentration on your face as you sewed—the gentle crinkle of your furrowed brows, the subtle curl of your lips, and every now and then, the small twitch of your nose like that of a bunny, the pink of your blush adding to the image.

He couldn't help but prop his folded arms on the arm of the chair, chin resting on his forearms as he shamelessly and blatantly admired the changes in your facial expressions. He noticed as your eyes began to occasionally flicker toward him, your attention increasingly beginning to drift.

A few minutes later, you exhaled a heavy sigh. "You're so distracting."

"You're so adorable," he replied almost dreamily.

There it was again. The humiliating pink flush of your cheeks.

He grinned, humming a quiet laugh as he rose to his feet to plant a kiss on the top of your head.

"Can I make one request?" he asked.

"Perhaps."

His eyes fell to the lionfish on the shirt in his hands, eyes sparkling with child-like joy. "Sew some of these onto your own clothes so we can match."

A wide smile stretched across your lips.

Within the next week, you and Finnick were a giggling mess, sporting matching sweatshirts embroidered with big blue dolphins, each one's blowhole featuring a small red heart just above.

[theodorenmyth]

Idk how far into One piece you are. But maybe something fluffly with like Law where reader is playing with his hands because they love his tattoos. And then maybe later Law finds the reader painted their hands like a fake tattoo and just messing around in the mirror. Preferably with a male reader but gn is ok too

Anyways this is the first time I've done this but i absolutely love your writing so much and hope you have a good day!!

Ink and Imitation

Pairings ; Trafalgar D. Water Law x M!Reader

Summary ; You were fascinated by Law’s tattoos, you spend time tracing them while sitting between his legs, dramatically declaring your admiration. Inspired, you sneak off to the bathroom to recreate his tattoos on yourself using ink, striking dramatic poses in the mirror while pretending to be the next Surgeon of Death. Unfortunately, Law catches you mid-performance, unimpressed but amused. After teasing you for misspelling ‘DEATH’ as ‘DEATN,’ he effortlessly flusters you with a kiss before smugly walking away. Despite the embarrassment, you’re still convinced you *totally* pulled it off.

A/N ; I loved writing this so much :3 enjoy bb!

warnings ; none

word count ; 1.2k+

The Polar Tang had its moments of chaos, but right now, it was peaceful. Warm light filled Law’s quarters as you sat comfortably between his legs, your back pressed against his chest. His arms rested loosely at his sides, medical journal in one hand while the other lay freely in your grasp. You were utterly fascinated with it.

“You know,” you mused, running your fingers over his knuckles, “I think your hands might be my favorite thing about you.”

Law hummed, flipping a page. “Not my intelligence? My leadership? My life-saving surgical skills?”

You scoffed dramatically. “Ugh, those are so expected. What, am I supposed to be impressed that you can rearrange someone’s insides like a Rubik’s Cube?”

“I would hope so,” he deadpanned.

You ignored him, gently stretching out his fingers before tracing the bold ‘DEATH’ tattooed across them. “These hands tell a story. They’re calloused, strong—capable of destruction, but they’re also careful, precise. They save lives.” You sighed wistfully, resting your cheek against his arm. “Tragic, poetic, effortlessly cool… If you weren’t already my boyfriend, I’d propose on the spot.”

Law snorted. “So dramatic.”

“I’m not dramatic, I’m appreciative.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

You grinned, pressing a quick kiss to the back of his hand before continuing your inspection. Your fingers trailed down to the intricate tattoo covering his wrist and forearm, tracing the thick, circular patterns.

“These must’ve hurt,” you murmured.

Law tilted his head slightly, his eyes flicking down to watch you. “Not as much as you’d think.”

You gasped, clutching his arm like you were hearing a scandalous secret. “You mean you didn’t shed even one tear?”

He smirked. “No.”

You placed a hand over your chest, shaking your head. “The strength. The sheer willpower.”

“You’re insufferable,” he said, but his lips twitched in amusement.

Your fingers stilled as an idea struck you. A ridiculous, impulsive, absolutely necessary idea.

"Law," you said, voice suddenly serious. "What if I got tattoos just like yours?"

He blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

“I’m serious!” You held up your hands, flexing your fingers. “Imagine us standing side by side, matching tattoos, striking fear into our enemies. We'd be unstoppable. Iconic."

Law stared at you for a moment before exhaling through his nose, returning to his book. "You're not getting my tattoos."

"Why not?" you whined, flopping back against his chest.

“Because you’d cry after five minutes.”

You gasped so loudly, it could’ve been heard across the Grand Line. “Excuse me?!”

“You heard me.”

“You think I can’t handle it?” You sat up, pointing an accusatory finger at him. “I am a pirate, Law—I’ve been stabbed, thrown off ships, electrocuted by a Marine with an unfortunate Devil Fruit, and you think I’d cry over a tattoo?”

“Yes.”

You narrowed your eyes. “I hate that you’re probably right.”

Law chuckled under his breath, and before you could argue more, he lazily draped an arm around your waist, pulling you back against him. "Just stick to playing with mine," he murmured, pressing a kiss against the top of your head before turning a page.

You melted instantly. "Fine. But I will prove you wrong one day."

Later that night, you stood hunched over the bathroom counter, sleeves rolled up, face scrunched in concentration as you carefully painted ink onto your skin.

This was serious business.

You had "borrowed" some ink from the supply room, along with a fine brush, and you were currently painstakingly copying Law's tattoos onto your hands and forearms.

You'd return it later…

Maybe.

The knuckle tattoos were the easiest part, even though writing backwards in the mirror was a nightmare. The tribal patterns on his wrist and forearm? That was where the real challenge began.

You stuck out your tongue in deep focus as you worked on a particularly intricate swirl.

"Okay, okay, looking good so far," you muttered, nodding in approval. The only problem was that your non-dominant hand was absolutely not cooperating. The moment you tried painting the other side, the lines became crooked.

You groaned dramatically. "Why am I cursed with only one good hand?!"

Still, after about an hour of dedication and minor suffering, you stepped back to admire your work.

You stood in front of the bathroom mirror, hands covered in ink, admiring your reflection like an artist marveling at their masterpiece.

It wasn’t perfect—your handwriting was a little crooked, and the lines on your forearms were messier than you’d hoped—but still, it looked cool. You flexed your fingers, grinning.

"Captain Y/N," you whispered to yourself, striking a pose. "Surgeon of Death 2.0."

You waved your hand dramatically. "Shambles!"

Nothing happened, obviously.

You tried again, this time with more enthusiasm. "Room!"

Still nothing.

You sighed. “Lame. Law makes it look so effortless.”

A slow clap echoed behind you.

You froze.

Turning your head ever so slowly, you found Law leaning against the doorway, arms crossed, face unreadable.

You opened your mouth. No words came out.

Law exhaled through his nose, stepping closer. "What," he said, reaching for your hand, "is this?"

"Admiration," you answered quickly, standing up straight. "Respect. Dedication to my captain. Love, even.”

His fingers traced the ink on your knuckles, eyes scanning your handiwork. “You misspelled ‘DEATH.’”

Your heart dropped. “You’re lying.”

Law turned your hand so you could see. The ‘H’ was slightly smudged, making it look like an ‘N.’

“…DEATN,” you read aloud in horror.

Law’s smirk widened. “Truly intimidating.”

You groaned, dramatically leaning against him. “All my hard work… ruined.”

“Maybe if you actually got a real tattoo—”

“Don’t say it,” you warned, pointing a stained finger at him.

“—you wouldn’t have this problem.”

You pouted, but the warmth in his voice betrayed his teasing. "You're just jealous."

He quirked a brow. "Of what?"

"My natural artistic talent."

“Right.” He let go of your wrist, giving you a once-over. “You look ridiculous.”

“You’re just mad because I pull it off better than you.”

Law chuckled, shaking his head before gently wiping a smudge from your cheek. “Keep telling yourself that.”

You huffed. “You just wait, Trafalgar D. Water Law. One day, I will get a real tattoo, and then you’ll regret ever doubting me.”

Law leaned in, his voice barely above a murmur. “I’d never regret anything about you.”

Your breath caught in your throat.

Stupid. Infuriating. Unfairly attractive man.

Before you could formulate a response, he pressed a soft, lingering kiss against your forehead.

You blinked up at him, momentarily dazed, before remembering yourself. "Don’t think you can distract me with affection!" you huffed, even as your face burned.

Law smirked. “Seems to be working.”

You groaned, dragging a hand down your face. "Ugh. You’re the worst.”

He patted your head like you were an annoying but beloved pet. “And yet, here you are.”

You sighed, giving in to your fate as his eternally bullied boyfriend. “You’re so lucky I love you.”

He chuckled. “Now,” he said, pulling away, “go wash your hands before you stain everything.”

Then, with one last smirk, he turned on his heel and walked away.

You stared after him, then looked back at your reflection.

Your fake tattoos looked awesome.

You let out a defeated groan, turning toward the sink.

He was so lucky you loved him.

[tyunphoria]

🌪️it’s a scream, BABY ! — h.js

- - - - -

⚠️NSFW CONTENT⚠️

- - - - -

ghostface!han jisung x reader

SYPNOSIS: when you thought you finally escaped that psycho who calls himself ghostface . . . think again. he always finds you.

INCLUDES: AFAB reader, ex!bf han jisung, pet names (baby, sweetheart, etc.), slight angst near the end if you squint, SMUTTT, aftercare, ngl kinda rushed oops.

WARNINGS: obsessive behaviour, threatening, mentions of death and murders, han having slight yandere tendencies, DOM!han, fingering, hair pulling, dacryphilia, praise, implied voice kink, knife play, fear play, finger-sucking, rough sex ig idk, begging.

wc: 3.7k

You approach the front door with relief, the aches in your feet swelling after a long day. "I'm home," you call out wearily.

Silence responds. No clattering of dishes from the kitchen, no muffled music from upstairs. Just the low whine of machinery emanating from somewhere.

Frowning, you kick off your heels, biting your lip against the sting of fresh blisters forming at the back of your ankles. Your shoulders slump as you drop onto the couch, its faded pattern doing little to lift your spirits.

Wincing, you massage the ache from your feet, inspecting the angry skin stretched tight over your swollen heels. Exhaustion seeps into your bones as the steady hum of the fan fades into the background. You lean your head back, eyes drifting shut against the gathering gloom. Slipping off your shoes was the first victory of what promises to be a long night ahead.

Laundry, mopping the floor, cleaning out the cupboards; fuck it, that can wait till tomorrow morning.

Sliding the uniform jacket from your shoulders, you sigh with the release of tension. The cool air hits your skin as you unbutton your work blouse, revealing a tank top beneath.

You adjust your skirt, glad to be free of the restrictive waistband and back into casual clothes. Glancing at the clock, you let out a sigh. Your roommate must be still working out late again. So much for a promised and well deserved girl’s night.

For now, though, you tune out the noise and settle further into the couch. Remote in hand, you aimlessly scroll through TV options in search of a mindless distraction. Anything to pull your exhausted mind from the drudgery of the day.

2 years, you frown.

It’s been two years since you’ve moved to seoul after the ghostface attacks from your hometown. You were lucky enough to survive, but the price of your survival was steep. It entailed enduring the loss of friends and family.

Till this day, it’s still a mystery as to who the killer was. Rather, killers as some people theorize.

But you know who he is.

You knew ghostface all too well.

How could you not ? He was the man you once loved and cared for. Until he went batshit insane and claimed to only be doing what’s best for the both of you by killing anyone who came in between your relationship.

You can’t tell the police. You can’t tell anyone. If his name happens to get leaked in the public, you’re the first person he’d go for.

“Stop thinking about him,” you groan, rubbing your temples. He’s probably dead in a ditch somewhere, why stress over it ? You settle on the news channel instead as you slump further into the couch.

“We interrupt your regular programming with breaking news. This is Lee Dae-suk reporting live from the scene. Just moments ago, authorities received a distress call by a janitor from HYBE Co.” you quickly sit up from your seat as you hear these words. That’s where you worked . . .

“Upon arrival, they discovered a chilling scene that has left investigators and the community in shock,” the reporter continues on with how there were two victims from your workplace suffering from injury and were rushed to the er, and the other two were found dead. “. . . the initials G.F. were carved on their chests. Detectives suspect that this traces back to the ghostface attacks of 2021 in [hometown]. We advise all citizens of seoul to be on high alert for potential suspects. Law enforcement officials advises everyone to stay indoors no longer than nine.

We will keep our viewers informed as this case unfolds. We now return to your regular scheduled programming brought to you by—“

You grab the remote and quickly shut off the tv.

“Shit, please f/n, answer your phone,” you gnaw on your nails whilst pacing around the living room. If this is the same ghostface, he must’ve followed you. It would be all your fault for leading him here. The thought makes you sick.

You dial her number again with shaking hands, desperate for an answer.

“Hey—“

“F/n!”

“you’ve reached f/n’s voice mail ! i’ll call you back when—“

“Fuck !” You exclaimed, throwing your phone onto the couch in frustration. The worry and fear is eating you alive. You try calling again and again, each unanswered ring twisting the knot of anxiety in your stomach tighter. With a sigh of defeat, you finally slump down on the couch, cradling your head in your hands.

"She'll be fine...she has to be fine," you say quietly to yourself, taking a slow, steadying breath. But before you can fully calm your racing mind, your phone suddenly rings, the sound jolting through you. Your heart leaps into your throat as you don’t bother checking the caller ID before picking it up with trembling hands.

“Hello ? F/n ?”

- “hey, baby.”

replied a deep, gravelly, modulated voice.

- “miss me ?”

Your breath hitched as you froze. A shiver ran down your spine as your eyes flicker to the open blinds.

“Ghostface.” You acknowledge. From the other line, you could hear him click his tongue in disapproval.

- “I prefer the nickname ‘darling’.”

“What the fuck do you want, Jisung ?” You tried not to show any signs of fear but the slight tremble in your voice says so otherwise.

“What ? Aren’t you gonna go ask me what my favourite scary movie is ?” You made your way in the kitchen as your hand inched to grab a knife.

- “I have a better question. Do you like games, y/n ?”

You pass your index finger between the various knives on the rack, fingers wrapping around the biggest handle.

“Fuck you.”

Jisung can be heard chuckling. His laugh made your stomach twist. What sick bastard thinks all of this is just a game ?

- “Even with that knife in your hand, you’re still as beautiful as ever. And the look of fear in your face ? It’s fucking hot, baby . . .”

You feel your heart starting to race as you flinch and turn around, all your senses now activated.

- “Tell me, are you gonna stab poor ol’ ghostface with that knife ? You aren’t any better from me, y/n.”

He was taunting you and you knew that.

You end the call after telling him that he could go fuck himself before rushing over to the windows and locking them shut. Same goes for the door as well while you clutch the edge of the dinner table as if your body were threatening to collapse.

The phone vibrates in your hand, except this time it wasn’t a call but a notification from the unknown number.

Your hands begin to shake once again as you huff and puff to regain composure, clicking on the notification to reveal a video.

A video of f/n entering her car.

You jumped at another vibration. He’s trying to call you again. The whole situation was frustrating — not only were you scared as shit, also a bit agitated with how he wasn’t just threatening you but your loved ones as well.

You peer down the halls, silently peeking at every room. When you finally accept the call, your heart drops at his words.

- “Hang up on me again, I dare you. I’ll mail this bitch’s head at your door, don’t fucking test me, y/n.”

The violence of his threat burned your eyes but you had no choice but to swallow back your tears. You’d just have to listen, so no one else got hurt. You can’t bear losing anyone—not again . .

“Jisung,” you close your eyes as a shuddered breath escapes your lips. “I’ll listen. I’ll do anything you want, okay ? Just please, don’t hurt anyone.”

He slightly softens at your pleas. Jisung still loves you, with all his heart and he wishes for nothing more than to go back to how things used to be. But he knew better than that, he's already far too deep to return with how he used to be.

- “Such a good girl for me . . . See how easy it is to obey ?”

Despite the fear, you cursed at the way he still had an affect on you. Somewhere in him, it’s still the same Han Jisung you’ve grown to love. The feelings you’ve stored away after all these years were beginning to resurface, and you were ashamed to admit it.

- “hm, what game, what game . . . Have you ever heard of the game hot and cold ?”

You nod, clutching the phone tighter. Words were stuck in your throat and you knew he could see you though he seemed to be dissatisfied.

- “Use your words, beautiful.”

His nicknames are starting to trigger a reaction that you hadn’t expected and felt so guilty. Heat spreads through your body, and shamefully enough, between your legs.

“I have,” you stammer.

- “Alright. Here’s the deal; find me and all of this’ll be over. I’ll leave you alone. Sounds like a plan ?” It seems all too good to be true. Find him and then what ? Will you have to just trust his word and believe that you’ll be finally left alone ?

- “Better start looking, I’m getting impatient here, princess.”

After a few minutes, neither of you spoke. The silence is weighing heavily down on your shoulders. The thought of not knowing where he is and him being able to pop out and slice you at any moment now increased your degree of fear. You walk out of the living room and open your roommate’s door, switching the light on.

- “cold.”

You grumble in response and made your way to your own bed room, eyes landing on the doors of your closet. Hands inching closer to the handles, you hear his breathing become more erratic making you pause.

- “Why’d you stop, baby ? Perhaps I’m in there.”

Your hands trembled as you grab the handles of your closet and pulled it wide open with eyes closed. To your surprise, he wasn’t there.

- “keep looking, sweetheart.” He laughs tauntingly. “Remember, this isn’t some cliche horror movie. The closet, really ?”

- “What's next ? The basement ?”

“Fuck you !” You didn’t wanna play this game anymore. By the time you found him, you’d be dead from a heart attack.

You exit your room and keep walking.

- “still cold.”

Sighing in annoyance, you head for the opposite direction, about to pass the bathroom till he spoke.

- “warmer.”

Taking a deep breath, the door creaks open as you step inside, flicking the light switch on. You inch closer to the shower curtain, letting out a tiny whimper.

- “You’re getting so warm. Very good, baby.”

You never had a thing for praise till now and let me just say that shit made your knees buckle. You wish you could just tell him to stop messing with you, the whole situation itself was already confusing enough.

- “Now you’re boiling.”

You grip the shower curtain and throw it open.

Nothing.

Absolutely, nothing.

“Bastard,” you groan. “Show yourself, asshole ! I’ll beat the shit out of you !“

- “hey now, no need to get violent. Keep talking to me like that and I’ll fuck that attitude out of you,” han spat.

“I’m done with your shit. Grow a pair and come at me, why don’t you ?” You held your phone tightly in your hand you could’ve crushed it. You head to the kitchen and grab a glass of water to soothe your dry throat. You laugh in realization, “I doubt you’re even here. God, I’m so stupid. I can’t believe I fell for it. How else could you send the video if her work’s like miles and miles away ?”

- “you asked for it. No backing out, ‘kay babe ?”

You pause. “What ?”

You immediately drop the glass along with your phone as a gloved hand reaches from behind to clasp over your mouth. Letting out a muffled scream, you thrash in his grasp, reaching to grab the knife from the counter but his free hand swiftly takes hold of both of your wrists and binding them behind your back as the masked man hunches you over the counter.

“Surprise, y/n.”

Tears blur your vision with your screams and whimpers getting muffled by jisung’s glove. He lets go, giving you some time to catch your breath.

“Let go, jisung !”

He inhales audibly, bringing you tight against him. “Scared, sweetheart ? I know you want this as much as I do . . . Think I didn’t notice the way you were practically soaking wet with just my voice ?” His hips push forward and the massive shape of his hard cock makes you weak. “Such a naughty, naughty girl.”

The unwelcome throb between your legs is spreading through your abdomen. A moan threatens to leave your mouth but you manage to bite your lip. His hand inches lower, slipping through the waistband of your shorts, clenching your thighs to refrain from giving him access.

“Open those legs for me, pretty girl,” he clicks his tongue, getting impatient.

“Burn in hell.”

With that little comment, he rips off your shorts along with your lacy panties. A new complaint comes from the back of your throat and you start to squirm and thrash again, unconsciously moving your ass against his clothed cock to push him away.

He snickers, keeping you pinned on the counter. “Impatient, are we ?” He lifts his robe and tugs his sweatpants down. Han jerks you back against him, pulling you off the counter and holding you tight against his hard dick.

“I missed you,” he rips his mask off, trailing kissing along your neck while he taps the flat of the knife against your cheek. “So fucking much . . .”

“What do you want ?” You gulp, melting in his tight embrace. God, you missed this. You missed him.

“You.” He rolls his eyes, “thought it was pretty obvious, but guess i have to spell it out.”

Han lightly trails the tip of the knife down your cleavage and stomach, applying more pressure afterwards to slice your tank top open. The cold air hitting your hardened nipples and the knife lightly dragging along your breasts made you gasp and arch your back against him.

He teases your cunt with the handle, dragging the object along your folds as he circles your clit with it. “Like that, sweetheart ?”

You moan as he smiles at the cry he drew from you.

“Use your words, baby,”

You took a shaky breath, hips swaying. “Fuck you, han jisung.”

He plasters on an amused smile as he shoves the handle in your cunt.

“I really gotta fix that nasty attitude of yours.” He says, taking his glove off.

He replaces the handle with his fingers, gently curling them as he moves it in and out your sopping pussy. You draw out a long whine, legs trembling and you could barely keep yourself up. “Oh god…. Fuck, jisung….”

The cute noises you were making encourages him to keep going as he picks up the pace, thrusting his fingers harder and deeper.

His other hand reaches up and closes his fist around your throat, scissoring his fingers inside of you. You’re reaching for logic, for dignity, but everywhere there’s only him.

Your moans were getting louder and louder at each plunge of his fingers, deciding ‘fuck it’ since it felt too good to stop now. His thumb pressed your clit in a delicious way which brought a familiar sensation in your lower belly. The coil in your stomach tightens painfully.

Han grins at this, knowing you were close.

He purposely pulls his fingers out before your release, suddenly feeling empty as a long string of curses and whines spill from your lips.

“Seriously ? Literally what the fuck—“

Han silences you by pushing the two fingers into your mouth.

His fingers skillfully venture deeper into your throat. The slight pressure causes you to choke momentarily, a mix of vulnerability and exhilaration flooding your senses. Your lips form a tight seal around his fingers, tongue swirling and sucking on them as the primal desire to please him fuels your actions while you greedily lapped your tongue.

His mouth, warm and eager, delicately explored the tender flesh of your neck beneath his lips. The sensation sends shivers down your spine, breath hitching in anticipation as he lines himself up against your entrance.

Moaning, you can’t help but impatiently grind against him

“What’s wrong baby ?” Han releases his fingers from your mouth as you gasp for air. “want my cock instead ?”

You nod eagerly.

His grip on your hip tightens as he tugs your hair back, eliciting a curt hiss from your hips. “Words, y/n.”

“Yes . . Please, I want you so bad, please fuck me.”

“Good girl.” He wastes no time sheathing and snapping himself inside of you, his thrust knocking the wind out of your lungs. He swears quietly, feeling how soft your walls were pulsing around him — warm and perfect, everything he missed over the past few years. You choke on your words, eyes fogging with tears as you slur out random sentences.

He grunts, starting off slow. “Thought I stretched you out pretty good but you’re still so goddamn tight. When was the last time you fucked someone, pretty baby ?”

Han deepens his strokes but keeps a teasingly slow pace. “Pl—Please, Jisung-ah …. go faster.” You sniffle, pathetically begging for his cock at this point. It hurt too much. You needed him more than ever.

“Where's the girl who was telling me to burn in hell a couple of minutes ago ?” He laughs and grabs your jaw to turn and face him, “you look better so needy for me like that . . Now, answer my question.” A groan leaves your mouth as his grip gets tighter.

“Since you left !” You sob as he rocks his hips faster, quickly fucking into your heat. “I haven’t found anyone as good as you, jisung-ah—“

He grins, roughly pinning you down on the counter. It was the answer he exactly wanted to hear.

You gasp as he hits a particularly sensitive spot, beginning to see stars as he brings a hand around to the front, running a finger against your swollen clit.

Moving inside of you at a nearly brutal pace, as you feel your release come closer and closer. He feels it too with the way you tighten around him. “M’cumming,” you whine, but he doesn’t stop. Then you came, walls clenching around him as he fucked you through your orgasm. Your legs tremble under the intensity, tapping on his arm for him to let you breathe for a second.

His hands grab your waist and uses it as leverage to thrust into you, leaving you little to no time to at least catch your breath. You try to speak but another one of his hard thrusts trigger a loud moan.

“Doing so well for me, baby. Think you can cum a second time ?” You moan brokenly, unable to respond. Your tongue hangs from your swollen lips and your throat feels dry. You never expected being fucked silly by the one and only han jisung ever again but here we are. You feel selfish for not wanting it to end and for wanting to be with him again.

He pulls you up and flips you around, hungrily smashing his lips against yours as if he’s been waiting to finally taste and have you all to himself for decades.

- - - -

“I hate you,” you groan as he lays you down on the soft mattress of your bed. “so fucking much.” Han only ever grins in response as he wipes away the cum trickling down your inner thighs.

You can barely move. You can’t even twitch a single finger.

Your limbs were sore and it was all his fault.

Summoning the last ounce of strength within you, you deliver a knee to his abdomen, eliciting a deep grunt from his lips. A look of mild annoyance crosses his face as he settles down beside you, encircling your waist with his strong arm. He presses his face into the soft curve of your neck, his fingertips tracing soothing circles along the tender flesh of your thighs.

“I missed you,”

“I know.”

“I’m sorry.”

You didn’t respond to that.

Suddenly, your lips meet in a sweet collision, a mingling of desire and longing. The taste of anticipation linger on your tongues as Han’s kisses began soft and tender, gentle brushes of lips that convey a depth of emotion words could never capture. With each meeting of your mouths, your passion ignites, growing more fervent, more urgent.

His hand cradles your cheek, his thumb tracing the curve of your jawline, while your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him closer, deepening the ardor of your embrace. Your mouths moved in perfect synchronicity, exploring and claiming, as if they were trying to memorize every contour, every taste.

The moment is abruptly shattered by the piercing wail of police sirens echoing just outside the house. Panic grips your heart, forcing you to acknowledge the harsh reality that the person you love is still a criminal; a killer.

With a heavy sigh, he gently drapes the covers over your form, shielding you from the impending chaos. Reluctantly, he pulls himself away, but not without leaving a lingering kiss upon your trembling lips, as if to imprint his love upon you, even in the face of uncertainty.

"Y/n?!" A familiar voice calls out from outside, the voice of your roommate.

His lips press against your forehead, his touch both comforting and fleeting. Your fingers instinctively cling to his sleeve, desperately trying to hold onto the moments you have shared.

"Wait, Jisung..." you plead, your voice laced with apprehension and longing. Your thumbs nervously fiddle with each other, betraying the whirlwind of emotions swirling within you.

A mischievous smile plays upon his lips as he leans closer, his voice a whispered reassurance. "Will you come back?" The thought of losing him again scared you.

"It isn’t that easy to get rid of me," he smiles cheekily as he opens the window sill, "Don't miss me too much.

“Remember, whether you like it or not, I'll always find you."

a/n: the amount of times ive watched all of the scream movies (esp 1, 4, and 6) is not healthy</3

also, han jisung brain rot wkjanjanw

this was honestly supposed to be a two part with minsung but i decided against it idk kinda wanna do more ghostface aus with ateez or something

like im boutta write some ethan landry x readers cus lemme js say 😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨

[jackiepackiee]

Telemachus x Apollo! Blessed Reader

Chapter seven

This chapter takes place during chapter six… Yay! More Apollo!

So this is a reader heavy chapter, sorry if it’s too specific to relate to, but we get some more backstory!

Masterlist

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Unbeknownst to either of you, Telemachus wasn’t the only one who was wide awake that night.

And neither were the Gods, always busy in their dance of mortal affairs.

You lay in bed, eyes tracing over the ceiling tiles that seem to grow shadows in the dim light. Ithaca resting in a soothing silence under the stars. Leaving you to be what feels like all alone, body heavy on the soft material of the bed beneath you.

If you could help it, you’d be floating somewhere in space. Weightless, unattached, and bearable. Instead of feeling the dark blanket of night press down on your chest. Leaving your breaths more shallow than you had wished for, on a practiced pattern of in and out that came less naturally than you hoped.

It’s a different kind of stillness that one feels when they don’t know ‘how to feel.’ Stuck, unmovable in place in time that only ticks back and forth.

Back to memories that you had once cherished. Times when you felt the same way you do now. The same way you feel with him.

Ticking forward to the tugging in your chest that not even music could capture.

Then back again, to a place in your mind that refused to let go of the past.

It was said to be love then, but with how everything turned out, how could this be anything similar.

Before you could reason the past with the events of the future, the moon seemed to glow brighter as a familiar figure sat at the edge of your bed.

“Apollo? What are you doing here?” You called, voice level without the shock that most had when they saw a God. You had gotten used to his presence by now, and didn’t even have to lift your head to recognize him.

Instead, you left yourself to rest on the pillows.

He looked around your room, leaning against the wall next to the bed as he focused on the instrument laying at your desk.

“You haven’t touched your lyre in two days.” He claimed, voice less joyful than he usually was. Lacking his teasing tone.

As he spoke, you fell further into your pillows. “I guess not…” Humming out, he could hear the tiredness in your voice.

Deciding to not let you waste away in your bed for a sleepless night, he spoke again. “And it’s been two days since your lesson with the prince.” With that, his usual teasing attitude was back.

You, however, were not in the mood for the teasing. Good intentions or not. “Two days is two days, more has happened than just that.” As you talked, you turned to face the wall next to the bed. Now laying on your side as your mind tried not to drift to the prince and his smile…

Apollo’s voice dragged you out of your thoughts.

“Let’s see. You’ve had about five lessons with him now.” He stood up, tapping his chin in mock thought. “Each lesson you’ve gotten closer and closer…” He trailed off, strumming the lyre once to let out a divine note.

“Quit it.” You whined, closing your eyes to try and rid yourself of the image that Telemachus held in your mind.

The god just continued to fiddle with items on your desk, sitting on the wood and looking at your back facing him. “During your fourth he even let you see his bedroom to show you his collection of stories of mythical beasts!” He mentioned, tossing up one of your pens and catching it as a form of distraction.

You shrunk further into yourself, shoulders reaching to almost hide yourself from the words you didn’t want to hear. “Seriously Apollo, enough.” Grabbing one of your pillows, you tried, and failed, to get comfortable. Squirming at the bed you were far too restless to be in.

He just tilted his head and stood up off the desk, picking up your lyre and inspecting it. “Oh come on, get out of bed, it’s not like you’re tired. You’re going to lose all your talent if you don’t play any music.” He said in a lighthearted tone, smiling despite your facing away.

Opposing his cheerful demeanor, you leaned further into the bed before huffing and sitting up. Too uncomfortable to sit still. “Good, then I’ll be let go of my job.” Your attitude wasn’t entirely intentional, but after days of discord it wasn’t easy to hide.

Silence took over the both of you, with Apollo placing down the lyre and watching you. Sitting on the bed, you took account of each breath in and out, trying to relax.

He wasn’t oblivious to how you felt, but he couldn’t read your every thought.

Soon, he spoke again, breaking the silence. “Did something happen?” He asked, voice more gentle than it was when you had late night talks.

You leaned further into your bed frame, letting your shoulders lose their tension and breathing out a breath from the bottom of your chest. “No. Nothing happened.” You let your head lull back, looking back up at the ceiling.

Apollo crossed his arms, leaning back against the desk. “Obviously it did. Don’t lie to me.” He ordered, but quickly toned down his commanding nature when he saw the puffiness in your eyes now obvious from the moonlight on your skin.

“Look, I just don’t think I should be his teacher.” You responded, looking directly at the god who stood before you. Expression more exhausted than either of you wished to admit.

Not knowing how to handle your life, especially in this way, without being completely unhelpful, he did what he knew.

A small joke came out, fully intended to brighten your demeanor, even if he knew it wouldn’t work. “Is he that bad of a lyre player?” But not even a small smile tugged at your lips, or a shine in your eyes.

Just a huff of a response. “Don’t be rude.”

He frowned, running a hand through his light hair in thought before finally going for a more comforting approach.

“Sorry, sorry…” He hummed. “What’s wrong? Be honest.” He said softly, finally allowing you to let your walls down just the slightest bit.

“He’s a prince, Apollo. I’m not a princess.” You admitted, sounding more dejected than most mortals he’d ever met. Eyes not leaving the ceiling as you tried not to just let the silence take over your mind.

“He doesn’t seem to care about that, and I surely don’t.” He offered, trying to be genuine with what he saw. He couldn’t read the boy's mind, but the way he saw him look at you was proof enough that he thought highly of you.

You sighed, running your hands over your face and down your jaw to massage at your tense neck, blinking away the sting in your eyes.

Nothing there but memories from those places you’d lived, and the people you loved. All past.

“I just can’t go chasing anything again. Not ever.” You claimed, letting your arms go limp in your lap.

Apollo tried to interject your thoughts of defeat. “I know, but-“ Instead, you cut off his attempt at savior.

“I don’t want to have this conversation.” Tiredly, you fully laid down in bed and tucked the blanket up and over your shoulders.

He walked closer to the window, getting ready to leave. But before, he turned around one last time. “Hey, it’s something you’ll have to bring up eventually.” He said.

You just turned to your side, curling further into your bed.

“Not. Now.” You said, sniffling in the cold night air.

He just sighed, before giving you one goodbye.

“Fair enough… Get some sleep, kid.”

Leaving you with your thoughts of the past and the prince.

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