#it has captured me body mind and soul

[aletterinthenameofsanity]

Small Charles/Edwin excerpt!

As an apology for making Edwin and Charles a slow-burn in my poly fic series, I thought I would give you a spoiler-free excerpt from very far into the future of this series (like at least ten/twelve updates from now) of one of my favorite Charles/Edwin moments because god do I love the way that it captures Charles' voice/love for Edwin:

Edwin is looking at Charles with those warm, grey eyes that have always been so ready to fight, so ready to stand up for what he believes is right, but have only ever been tender with Charles, long before Charles knew the reason behind it.

Other people don’t like the color grey. They think it’s boring, that it shouldn’t count as a color, that it is a hue that only exists to shade other colors.

Grey has been Charles’ favorite color for forty years.

[meyhew]

dont u dare. you are rosesau. that's your brand

no thats my very Larrie brand. those days r over i have to move on

[kingofbodyrolls]

Say I Do (m) | jjk

Summary: you and Jungkook tease each other at your wedding reception.

Pairing: jungkook x female reader (no Y/N and unnamed)

AUs: non-idol!au, wedding!au

Genres: smut– like it’s just smut, nothing else 🤣

Rating: mature/explicit/R18 – this is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact!

Word count: 5,2k

Disclaimer: I do not own BTS or know them personally and this work of fiction is purely fictional and for entertainment purposes only. The actions and personalities described in the story do not reflect those of BTS— it’s just fiction. Also, if you would kindly read the tags/warnings before reading, that would be lovely: and if you don’t like whatever is described in the tags, just hit return and find something else to read. Thank you 🌸

Warnings/tag: unprotected sex, exhibitionism, voyeurism, public sex, handjob, oral (female receiving), dirty talk, slightly rough sex, choking, biting, spitting, ass grabbing, impreg kink, degrading names (whore used once).

Author’s note: I made this for my lovely friend Lua (@letjungcoook7)!!!! SURPRISE!!!! I hope you like it! I was inspired to make this because of our chat, and I just want to say that you are so fucking lovely, sweet and kind 💖 I really hope this isn’t too much, but I just had too 🥹 I really wanted to make it dirty, but it ended up being more sweet instead, I’m sorry! I love talking to you and I just wanted to let you know that I adore and treasure you 😘 

Honestly Lua, I just wrote this to tell you how beautiful you are– mind, body and soul. Thank you Lua, I love ya 💜

This is just something very short while I work on ‘My Heart’s Home’. But I hope you like it, and please let me know what you think: my inbox is always open, and I love to hear from you, even a reblog/comment will put a big smile on my face 💜

Also!!! This is written from Jungkook’s POV (well I tried, lol). And normally I don’t describe the reader/MC, but she does have a tiny bit description in this, but I still feel it’s vague enough. But if that isn’t your thing, it’s completely fine 🙂 This is not proofread (because I’m too lazy for that right now).

This has nothing to do with my other fic 'say that again (I dare you)', but if you want to read that I'm not opposed (it's also a jjk fic) ✨

Fancy reading on AO3? 😉 

Rising gracefully to his feet, Taehyung's infectious enthusiasm fills the room as he declares, “I propose a toast!” His radiant smile sweeps over the myriad of guests you meticulously invited to your wedding—more than a hundred souls sharing in the joy of your love story. 

As he prepares to speak, Jungkook can't help but marvel at the grandeur of the occasion. Despite his personal inclination towards a more intimate celebration, he wouldn't dream of denying you this moment, surrounded by the warmth of friends and family who have come together to witness the union of two hearts.

Despite Taehyung's earnest attempt to capture Jungkook's attention with a throat-clearing preamble, Jungkook finds himself inexplicably entranced elsewhere. Even in the midst of one of his closest friends delivering a heartfelt wedding speech—something he should be wholeheartedly absorbing—but it’s hard. As hard as his dick that you’re palming over his dress pants.

The tantalizing dance of your hand sends ripples of pleasure through him, an intoxicating distraction that eclipses all other thoughts. It's an artful symphony of sensation, each movement crafting a masterpiece of desire within him. The struggle to concentrate on anything else becomes an exhilarating battle. Fuck. 

You, the mischievous enchantress, wield your allure like a potent spell. 

A tantalizing awareness of your own danger courses through your veins, and you wield it with an expert finesse. Every knowing glance, every sly smile, is a calculated move in the game you effortlessly play. You've mastered the art of ensnaring him, wrapping him around your finger with a magnetic force that compels him to dance to your whims. It's a dangerous dance, but he willingly succumbs to the intoxication of your charm, embracing the thrill as much as he cherishes the intoxicating love he feels for you.

What the fuck is Taehyung saying?

Taehyung’s words dissolve into a meaningless buzz, drowned out by the illicit symphony you're orchestrating beneath the table. The audacious zipper sliding down and the tantalizing exploration of your hand over the fabric of his boxer briefs command all of Jungkook's attention.

Profanity trembles on the edge of his tongue, but it's lost in the overwhelming sensation that eclipses any coherent thought. Your stealthy touch renders him blissfully oblivious to everything else unfolding around him.

Suppressing a low, guttural sound, he clenches his teeth, using every ounce of willpower to stifle the moan building in his throat. As desire courses through him like a wildfire, he willingly parts his legs, a silent invitation for you to explore more boldly, granting ample space for the electrifying touch of your hand over the hardened length of his cock.

He marvels at your audacity, finding it both exhilarating and daring that you'd embark on such a provocative escapade during your wedding reception. Yet, deep down, he acknowledges that it's a reflection of the wild spirit that has always defined your relationship. It's a shared affinity for dancing on the edge, reveling in the allure of danger, and delighting in the thrill of engaging in activities that should, by all accounts, remain private. It's a facet of your relationship that has always been magnetic, drawing you both into a world where the risk of being caught only adds to the intoxicating excitement.

In the blink of an eye, your hand deftly maneuvers beneath the fabric of his boxers, sending a shiver down his spine. A hiss escapes his lips as your long, slender fingers confidently envelop his cock. The warmth of your touch is both a balm and an inferno, and he instinctively tilts his head back in the chair, a silent plea for discretion. 

As he surrenders to the delicious sensation, he can't help but cast a furtive glance around, fervently hoping that the clandestine ballet unfolding beneath the table remains a tantalizing secret shared only between you.

Despite the uproarious laughter echoing through the room in response to Taehyung's speech, Jungkook remains oblivious to its contents, ensnared the choreography of your hand beneath the table. 

The mirthful ambiance only fuels his curiosity, surmising that Taehyung must have delivered a punchline or shared a humorous anecdote. Meanwhile, beneath the table's concealment, your hand skillfully traces a tantalizing path along his hardened cock, drawing a hushed hiss from Jungkook's lips. 

With a steely resolve, he masks any trace of emotion, locking his features in a stoic facade and maintaining an impressive silence. His determined effort is not just to conceal the electrifying sensations your actions are evoking, but also to safeguard the clandestine intimacy you both share from the prying eyes of the unsuspecting guests. 

Every fiber of his being is a coiled spring, resisting the urge to yield to the pleasure that threatens to unravel beneath the veneer of his restrained expression. 

As his gaze shifts towards you, he's met with an unexpected sight—there you sit, an image of demure elegance in your exquisite white gown. 

The fabric caresses your curves in all the right places, accentuating the allure of your figure. The daringly low neckline teases a glimpse of the captivating silhouette of your bosom, leaving him momentarily breathless. The off-the-shoulder design unveils a generous expanse of your soft, tender skin, a tantalizing sight that aligns perfectly with his preferences. 

Despite the provocative allure of your attire, your outward appearance betrays no hint of the illicit affair transpiring beneath the table. If he didn't intimately know the secret you were concealing—your hand discreetly exploring the realm beneath his pants—he'd be fooled by the serene facade you present, seemingly absorbed in the captivating rhythm of Taehyung's speech.

In a silent plea of gratitude, Jungkook revels in the fact that the attention of the guests is fixed on Taehyung's speech, sparing him the scrutiny of prying eyes. 

Little do they know, the real spectacle unfolds beneath the table, where your touch becomes an exquisite torment. 

Every movement of your hand is a tantalizing dance, a blend of ecstasy and torture that threatens to unravel him. With a teasing finesse, your soft fingers caress his frenulum, tracing a path towards the depths of pleasure. The deliberate slide over his slit elicits a shiver of pure ecstasy, leaving Jungkook teetering on the precipice of desire that you expertly navigate.

Your hand envelops him, a cocoon of warmth that intensifies with each skillful stroke. The pleasure coursing through him is undeniably exquisite, a testament to the mastery of your touch. Yet, a lingering awareness tugs at the edges of his consciousness—an impending climax that threatens to unravel the careful threads of restraint. The exquisite sensations you evoke compel him to desperately anchor his thoughts, to redirect the intoxicating focus from the captivating dance beneath the table to Taehyung's speech.

The challenge lies not just in resisting the magnetic pull of pleasure but in maintaining a semblance of composure, navigating the delicate balance between the ecstasy you're orchestrating beneath the table and the public façade demanded by the occasion.

“We’ve been friends for so long, how many years is it now, Gguk?” As Taehyung poses the question, a hushed anticipation envelops the room, and all eyes converge on Jungkook. 

Fuck. 

All eyes are on him and he can’t think— he’s mind is clouded with thoughts of you. 

Taehyung– Fuck. How long have they been friends? 

In a sudden stumble of recollection, he breathes out, “17 years,” the weight of the shared history resonating in the room. Yet, the gravity of the moment is unexpectedly intensified as you administer an assertive squeeze around cock. Fuck.

With a chuckle that slices through the tension, Taehyung seamlessly continues his discourse, effortlessly reclaiming the attention of the room and redirecting every wandering gaze back to him. A collective exhale echoes in Jungkook's mind, a silent gratitude for the timely diversion that spares the clandestine spectacle beneath the table from becoming the unwitting center of attention. 

Relentless, you maintain the rhythm on his dick, displaying an unwavering determination that hints at an intention to push him to the brink, right under the unsuspecting gaze of the gathered guests. 

As the divine caress of your hand propels him perilously close to the edge, a surge of urgency overtakes him. Desperate, he turns his face towards you, eyes silently pleading for respite, but your gaze remains steadfastly elsewhere. 

Frustration wells within him, and he attempts to use his hands to guide yours away, only to find your grip tightening in response. The conflicting forces of pleasure and restraint collide within him, his muscles tensing as a hitch in his breath betrays the precarious precipice upon which he teeters.

Leaning in, you bring with you a halo of your natural sweet scent, an intoxicating allure that wraps around him, overwhelming his senses and leaving him slightly dizzy. 

Your lips, soft and plush, delicately find his cheek in what appears to be a tender gesture to the outside world. To the unsuspecting onlookers, it's a simple, sweet kiss on the cheek. 

Little do they know, in that same moment, your daring move involves not just the gentle press of your lips but the subtle exploration of your other hand slipping under his boxers to fondle his balls.

Fucking hell he’s gonna come.

Ecstasy courses through him like a wildfire, an imminent eruption fueled by the intoxicating cocktail of your skillful touch on his balls, warm breath teasing his ear, and the relentless grip on his pulsating desire. The threshold between pleasure and release narrows to a perilous edge, and he finds himself teetering on the brink, held captive by the maddening symphony of sensations you've orchestrated. 

Despite his valiant efforts to remain attentive to his friend's speech, the sheer mastery of your pleasure-inducing touch proves insurmountable. Every deliberate stroke, every strategic squeeze of his balls, propels him further into the abyss of ecstasy. In a moment of surrender, he can no longer contain the torrent of desire, and ropes of his essence surge forth from his throbbing dick. His lips bear the weight of a stifled moan, as you keep stroking him through his orgasm.

Beside him, your chuckle is a symphony of sweetness interwoven with a hint of mischief, a melodic backdrop to the ongoing crescendo of pleasure you expertly administer through his orgasm. 

As he traverses the realm of oversensitivity, a low, guttural grunt escapes him, drawing the curious gaze of Taehyung, engrossed in his ongoing speech. Though momentarily caught in a gaze of questioning inquiry, Taehyung forges ahead, resuming his speech with a peculiar stare, unwittingly oblivious to the spectacle unfolding beside him.

Thank fuck both of your parents aren’t seated right next to you. That would have been utterly mortifying and embarrassing.

With a deliberate finesse, you retract your hand from his crotch, guiding it gracefully over the table, where you nonchalantly employ a napkin to erase any lingering evidence. Seated there, you adopt an innocent facade, a picture of angelic composure that conceals the fact that, mere seconds ago, your hand delved into the forbidden realm beneath his pants. 

With an audible exhale, he reaches for a napkin, hastily attending to the aftermath on his pants. The damage is fortunately minimal, thanks to your deft intervention that efficiently captured most of his release. Smart girl.

But a mischievous spark ignites in his eyes, a silent vow echoing beneath the surface - oh, he's going to get back at you for that, you little minx. 

–

As the notes of the classic wedding waltz envelop the room, Jungkook marvels at the surreal reality—he gets to call you his wife now. The ethereal glow surrounding you transcends the physical, a radiant aura that has always defined you. Despite your humble protestations about your own beauty, he's captivated by the undeniable truth: you've always been, and continue to be, an enchanting vision. Countless times you've confessed to feeling otherwise, but in his eyes, you're a masterpiece. In this moment, as you dance together, you're not just a part of his world; you are his entire universe.

Gazing into the pools of your sweet, doe-like eyes, their exquisite almond shape captivates him, holding his attention in an unbreakable trance. He contemplates the nuances of your beauty, from the enchanting curvature of your slightly upturned nose to the endearing moments when he can't resist playfully poking it during your teasing exchanges. Every inch of you, in his eyes, is a masterpiece, and he pledges to vocalize his admiration every day, a ritual aimed at etching your beauty into your own consciousness. 

He dreams that with each affirming word, he'll weave a tapestry of self-love around you, until the day you see yourself as he does—undeniably, breathtakingly beautiful.

As you dance, your eyes ablaze with an unmistakable love, he luxuriates in the intensity of your gaze. A daring current of desire propels his hand, gliding with deliberate intent down your body until it boldly claims your ass. 

Uninhibited, he seizes it with audacious confidence, the bold move oblivious to the watchful eyes surrounding you. A soft, mischievous squeeze elicits a sweet chuckle from you, a harmonious note in the symphony of shared amusement that reverberates through the party, as the crowd collectively succumbs to the captivating allure of your uninhibited dance.

As the soft strains of the music envelop you both in a waltz, your heads draw nearer, the enchanting melody echoing the tender dance of your hearts. With the song nearing its end, he seizes the moment, leaning in intimately close to your ear. The hushed promise that escapes his lips carries a tantalizing undercurrent, his warm breath grazing your skin as he vows, “I'm going to get you back for earlier, babe.”

He senses the subtle shiver coursing through you as his touch lingers, a silent testament to the shared electricity between you. As the final notes of the song fade into the applause and cheers of the crowd, seizing the perfect moment, he leans in, embracing you in a sweet and passionate kiss. 

As the rhythm of a more upbeat song invigorates the dance floor, he seizes the opportunity to whisk you away from the lively crowd. Amidst the pulsating beats and the vivacious laughter of the guests, he guides you outside the building, their merriment gradually fading into the background.

In the crisp night air, he asserts a sudden dominance, pressing you against the sturdy wall. His gaze, infused with an unmistakable hunger and need, locks onto your beautiful eyes, creating a magnetic tension that reverberates between you. 

“You are a little minx, you know that?” His words, not laced with anger but rather a dangerous undercurrent of arousal, hang in the charged air. Your chuckle, a sweet symphony that further stirs the tempest within him, prompts a hiss as he succumbs to the magnetic pull, diving fervently into the captivating abyss of your mouth.

The kiss intensifies, a collision of passion that is both hard and rough, fueled by an undeniable need. In the urgency of the moment, he can't afford to wait, the impatience palpable in every fervent press of lips. 

You envelop him in the embrace of your arms, fingers intertwining at the nape of his neck, while your gaze rises to meet his. In the depths of his eyes, once warm brown orbs now transformed into pools of near-black intensity, a reflection of the potent arousal coursing through his veins. 

Your hand embarks on a daring journey, descending to the front of his pants once more, and the response is instantaneous – hardness reignites, a testament to the insatiable flame you kindle within him. Desire for you pulses like a constant current, an almost permanent state of arousal that defies logical explanation. Whatever enchantment you cast upon him, it's an irresistible force that weaves a tantalizing spell, leaving him perpetually captivated by the mystique of your touch.

Breaking away from the embrace of your soft lips, he wears a smirk laden with both warning and allure. “You're playing with fire, babe,” he remarks, the subtle edge in his voice echoing the intoxicating dance of danger and desire that swirls between you.

In a hushed whisper that flutters against your ear, he breathes, “You've been a naughty girl.” 

The words, laden with an undercurrent of sultry authority, send a shiver down your spine, awakening a cascade of tingles that traverse the landscape of your entire body. 

Descending to the delicate expanse of your neck, he peppers it with soft, almost teasing kisses, each touch a prelude to the symphony of sensations. Then, in an abrupt shift from gentle caresses, he bites down, coaxing from you a loud moan that resonates through the air—an intoxicating sound that echoes in the depths of his desire, a melody he'll never tire of hearing. 

Continuing his explorative journey, he ventures further south, his lips descending to the curve of your breasts. With a deliberate tenderness, he places a kiss atop the soft expanse of your tender tits.

Gracefully sinking to his knees, he gazes up at you with a mischievous smirk, the air thick with a heady mixture of desire and anticipation. His tongue darts out, grazing his lips in a provocative dance of anticipation, signaling the imminent exploration of pleasures yet to unfold. 

With an assertive grip, he seizes the front of your dress, drawing it away in a swift, purposeful motion. Despite the abundance of fabric, he deftly bunches it up with ease. “Hold your dress, please,” he directs, handing you the end of the gathered fabric. 

“Hmm. Nice lace stockings, and that girdle—what are you doing to me?” he murmurs, his voice a tantalizing blend of desire and fascination. His gaze lingers appreciatively on your beautiful thighs encased in nude stockings adorned with lace at the top, fastened to a concealed girdle on your waist.

His eyes widen with a mix of surprise and arousal as they land on your wet and glistening pussy, the evidence of desire trickling down your thigh. “Oh my god. You're not wearing panties?” he breathes out, his voice carrying the weight of both revelation and anticipation. A subtle lick of his lips betrays the intensity of his reaction.

A playful chuckle escapes your lips as you hover above him, and without a moment's hesitation, he immerses himself in the intoxicating warmth of your desire. His lips eagerly find their destination, tracing a decadent path from the delicate folds to the pulsating essence of your clit. 

The sensation ripples through your body, igniting a shiver that becomes an involuntary response to the electrifying dance between tongues, pleasure, and the shared yearning that binds you together.

He embarks on a tantalizing journey of tongue and suction, starting with teasing caresses that send tremors of anticipation through your body. His hands, strong and purposeful, find purchase on your thighs, holding you in a firm grip as he orchestrates a symphony of pleasure with his skillful tongue, creating an intoxicating dance that blurs the lines between sensation and desire.

A throaty moan escapes your lips as his nose delicately brushes against your pulsating cl*t, his tongue delving as deep as its voracious hunger allows. The exquisite sensation of his exploration elicits an involuntary clenching around him, a testament to the overwhelming pleasure coursing through you.

Your thighs, unable to withstand the intensity, succumb to a tremor, trembling beneath the intoxicating caress of pleasure that consumes you.

His dexterous fingers ascend to your throbbing clit, and with a skillful touch, he sets in motion a rapid dance of pleasure, causing your entire body to quiver with newfound intensity. The quickened rhythm of your breath becomes a symphony of desire, a telltale sign for him that you're teetering on the precipice of ecstasy.

Eager to reciprocate the pleasure you bestowed upon him within the confines of the reception, he fervently laps at your tender folds. Simultaneously, his fingers engage in a deft dance around your throbbing clit, orchestrating a symphony of sensations that echoes the pulsating rhythm of desire between you.

With the harmonious fusion of his skilled tongue and nimble fingers, he orchestrates the unraveling of your senses. As ecstasy courses through you, your body convulses in euphoria, your walls clenching around his tongue, and the pulsating rhythm of your clit intensifying under the spell of his fingers. 

Waves of pleasure surge through you, causing your body to quake, and in the throes of ecstasy, you release a high-pitched, strained moan that bears his name—an intimate symphony of pleasure that lingers in the air.

Breathless and overwhelmed, you gasp out his name, a plea woven into the words, “Fuck, Jungkook. I can't stand up anymore.” As he gracefully withdraws from your core, his gaze rises to meet yours, locking in a shared moment of intensity.

He chuckles, the rich timbre of his laughter lingering in the charged air. “I know, babe. Do you want me to fuck you against the wall?”

You draw in a sharp breath, and he keenly observes the subtle clench of your hand, the fabric of the dress tightly gathered within your grasp. 

“Fuck yeah,” An unbridled affirmation escapes your lips, a primal declaration of desire. As he rises to his feet, a surge of urgency propels him to capture your mouth in a hungry kiss. The taste of your own release lingers on his lips, creating an intimate communion of shared pleasure that binds you together in the aftermath of passion.

As he engulfs you in a fervent kiss, the symphony of desire playing out between you, his hands deftly navigate the zipper of his dress pants. With a purposeful movement, he unveils his throbbing cock, stroking it in rhythmic cadence. 

His hands, driven by a primal urgency, seek out the contours of your a*s with a possessive intent. “Jump up, babe,” he commands, the resonance of his voice weaving a spell of anticipation. As you obediently jump, he effortlessly lifts you, cocooning you against the wall. 

In a brief struggle against the bulk of your dress, both of you grapple with the fabric, pushing it away from the front of your entwined bodies. A shared chuckle hangs in the air, a lighthearted interlude in the midst of fervor. But as the fabric yields to your efforts, Jungkook seizes the opportunity, moving in with an insatiable hunger to bite at your neck once more. 

With a sultry whisper, he breathes, “I'm gonna fuck a baby into you, would you like that, hmm?” 

The words, pregnant with promise, glide against your ear, and the responsive clench of your legs around his waist speaks volumes. A knowing chuckle escapes him as you endeavor to pull him even closer, the shared desire resonating between you in the charged space.

“Please,” your plea, a desperate yet fervent entreaty, escapes your lips, a poignant melody of desire that resonates in the charged air. The subtle smirk that graces his lips is both a testament to your undeniable need for him and an acknowledgment of the power he holds over your cravings.

With a deliberate touch, he locates his throbbing cock with one hand and skillfully aligns it with your dripping entrance. The tantalizing dance begins as he teases your slick folds with the head of his pulsating dick, creating an electrifying friction that amplifies the anticipation between you two. 

“Gguk, please,” you plead with a mixture of desire and frustration, your voice echoing the urgent need for him to bridge the gap between anticipation and fulfillment. However, he remains steadfast, skillfully teasing your slick folds without granting the entry your body craves. 

With a desperate plea escaping your lips once more, he finally relents. The moment stretches with anticipation before he forcefully thrusts his thick cock into your eager pussy. The collision is met with an audible impact as your back forcefully meets the wall.

He forgoes the customary pause for adjustment, intuitively aware that you relish the exquisite stretch when he enters you so abruptly. Without hesitation, he plunges deep into your core, reaching the furthest recesses, his thick length grazing against your cervix. 

“You’re so big, the stretch feels so good!” 

You gasp breathlessly against his body, overwhelmed by the sheer size of him. The intoxicating stretch sends waves of pleasure coursing through you, a visceral reminder of the intensity between you two. Determined to fully immerse yourself in the sensation, you pant against him, actively striving to ride the wave of pleasure, desperate to fuck yourself on him, the relentless pursuit of ecstasy evident in every ardent movement.

He establishes a relentless rhythm, driving into you with a force that resonates against the unyielding wall of the building. The symphony of your combined panting echoes in the air, a melodic accompaniment to the unbridled passion unfolding. Jungkook, captivated by the primal symphony, savors every delightful noise escaping your lips—a harmonious blend of desire and surrender, heightening the intensity of the fervent connection shared between you.

As he thrusts into you, each powerful motion striking your cervix, he elevates the intensity by trailing one hand up to your neck. With a gentle yet possessive touch, he wraps his fingers around your throat.

He knows you like it dirty and rough, and fuck he does too. 

His taunting words, laced with a playful yet provocative tone, cut through the charged air. “Did you enjoy the little game with your fingers down my pants while Tae was making his speech?” The rhetorical question hangs between you, a teasing challenge that elicits a subtle clenching reaction around him. 

In a sultry revelation, he whispers, “'Next to your bridesmaid and your parents. You naughty girl.” The hand steadying against the wall takes a firm hold of your ass, squeezing the soft flesh with deliberate intent. A resonant moan of pleasure escapes your lips, harmonizing with the rhythmic cadence of his thrusts as he skillfully targets your sweet spot. 

“So naughty,” he breathes, punctuating each fervent thrust with a rhythmic intensity that sends shivers down your spine. “You enjoy getting off in front of your friends, huh?” His words, infused with a seductive blend of desire and provocation, become a tantalizing soundtrack to the relentless grind of his dick into you.

“And getting me off too? Whore,” he seethes into your ear, the heated accusation leaving a scorching trail of desire in its wake. Your response, a shiver against his body, fuels the intensity of the moment. 

As he continues to fuck you with an unrestrained force, your breasts bounce in a mesmerizing rhythm that captivates him. So fucking perfect.

“Stick your tongue out,” he commands, his eyes intently fixed on you as you obediently roll out your tongue, anticipating the act you relish. The charged moment lingers, pregnant with expectation. With a deliberate move, he spits on your waiting tongue, and you, the embodiment of submission, dutifully swallow it.

Damn it, he knows he won't last much longer if he continues to be entranced by the rhythmic bounce of your enticing breasts—they possess an almost hypnotic allure over him. And that tongue of yours, oh, it's pure seduction. 

“And you can't even wait until we reach our hotel suite to be fucked. So fucking needy, and I love it,” he declares, a blend of admiration and desire lacing his words. The deliberate clench of his fingers around your throat follows, a subtle yet potent assertion of control. His gaze remains fixed on your eyes, watching with a predatory intensity as they dilate even more.

As he tightens his grip, the sensation of his fingers constricting around your throat elicits a primal response—your walls clenching around his cock. The synchronized symphony of pleasure and control intertwines, and a guttural groan escapes him, an audible testament to the ecstasy coursing through his veins. 

Driven by an insatiable desire, he redoubles his efforts to fuck you even deeper.

“My filthy wife,” he pants into your ear, the possessive term dripping with desire, a declaration that ignites a primal response within you. The sultry proclamation elicits a moan of his name from your lips, a vocal affirmation of the all-encompassing pleasure coursing through your body. His acute awareness of your nearing climax manifests in the rhythmic clenching around his dick, a tangible sign of the intimate dance between you two.

“Fuck, Gguk. I'm so close again. Fuck!” you pant fervently against the curve of his neck, the words laced with desperation and desire. He senses the mounting intensity in your voice, a symphony of passion reaching its crescendo. 

Yet, he's attuned to the nuances, recognizing the subtle signs that your body, though on the brink of ecstasy, bears the weight of fatigue, having navigated the day in those tantalizing heels. 

“You crave an audience, don't you? Want people to watch you, to hear you,” he moans into your ear, the words a sultry declaration that fans the flames of desire between you two. The acknowledgment of your shared exhibitionist desires ignites a fresh surge of pleasure, prompting an instinctive clench around him.

“Then scream my name, let everyone in the damn party know how damn good I'm fucking you,” he commands, the intensity of his voice sending shivers down your spine. As your walls clench with even greater fervor, pulsating around his dick, a wave of your liquid envelops him, transforming the intimate connection into a slippery dance of shared pleasure.

You unleash his name with a primal scream, the sheer force of your ecstasy reverberating through the open air outside. Your head drops against the curve of his neck, seeking refuge in the haven of his embrace as the waves of pleasure cascade over you.

He relentlessly thrusts his dick into you, the urgency palpable as he seeks his own release. “I'm gonna give you a baby, just like we've always dreamed of.”

“Ahhh, fuck, yes!” The exclamation bursts from your lips, a little too loud, as an uncontrollable surge of pleasure courses through you. Your teeth instinctively seek refuge on his shoulder, sinking into the firm flesh in an unbridled act of both ecstasy and restraint.

“Fuck, babe, I'm gonna come,” he confesses with a guttural moan, each subsequent thrust punctuated with the desperation of impending release. His rhythm stumbles, an involuntary response to the intensity building within him as he hurtles towards the precipice of his orgasm. And then it hits him.

The rhythmic bounce of your tits in his face, the soft and sweet scent that envelops him, and the melodic cadence of your voice—all converge to cast a spell on his senses. In the midst of your lovely moans, he succumbs to the intoxicating blend of sensations, unleashing a torrent of white-hot semen deep inside your spent pussy. 

Panting and gasping, you both struggle for precious breaths, bodies slick with the sheen of sweat acquired in the throes of passion. Amidst the shared exhaustion, a mutual chuckle reverberates between you, an intimate exchange that encapsulates the postcoital atmosphere.

With your head nestled against his, you gaze into the depth of his eyes and confess, “I love you, Gukkie.” The words, tender and raw, bridge the physical intimacy you've just shared with the emotional vulnerability of a heartfelt declaration.

“I love you too. Every damn inch of you, you're so beautiful,” he pants, a declaration infused with both desire and admiration. As he smiles at you, the post-passion glow accentuates the sincerity in his eyes, turning the exchange into a powerful affirmation.

He'll never tire of professing his boundless love and adoration for you, vowing to weave those sentiments into the fabric of each passing day. The promise to remind you, with unwavering devotion, echoes in his commitment to articulate his love every damn day.

Please let me know if you liked it with a comment, reblog, and ask or whatever 💜

[princessbellecerise]

cw: smut, mistaken identity, dragonseed!reader

oh nothing just thinking about jace finally deciding that honor be damned, there’s a war going on and he does not want to die a virgin. he has a plan to fix it but he’s so nervous that he drinks a few glasses of wine to calm his nerves. then, he sneaks into baela’s room and shuts the door, smiling when he sees what he thinks are her silver curls peaking out from underneath her sheets. as quietly as he can, jace gets undressed and climbs on the bed. it creaks a little under his weight, but baela doesn’t stir, surprising him since she’s usually a light sleeper. he thinks nothing of it though, because he’s so nervous and so excited and he’s a littleee bit tipsy from the wine so he doesn’t notice that baela’s skin is softer than what it should be. furthermore, her body isn’t as hard as a warriors body should be and she even smells different to jace. it’s an intoxicating scent that makes all the nerves in his body feel like he’s on fire. it spurs him on even more, the prince pushing the covers back to reveal baela’s barely clothed body. to his surprise, the princess is wearing a cute little slip decorated in flowers. its silky and underneath it, jace realizes that she’s wearing nothing. her pretty little cunt is on full display when he pushes the slip up to her breasts, mouth watering as her full body is exposed. in no time, the prince attaches his mouth to any skin he can find, growing harder by the minute as he tastes baela’s sweet flesh. as his lips trail over her neck, her breasts, and eventually the sweet spots on her belly, he can hear her whimpering and whining above him.

“jacaerys? what are you doing?”

her voice is a little different from what she usually sounds like, but the prince chalks it up to baela just coming out of sleep and to the wine.

“shh, sweetling. just relax. i’m going to take good care of you,” he whispers to her, before attaching his lips to her cunt.

almost immediately, baela begins to squirm underneath him, heavy pants and little cries leaving her lips. her hands come down to tangle in his hair as jace gets to work, finding her pearl and coaxing to her peak.

he’s doing so good, he thinks, and she tastes so sweet. jace wants to spend hours in between her legs if possible but he’s so hard that it hurts. the prince finds himself needing to be inside of her before he bursts.

hurriedly, he climbs on top of her and presses his swollen head to her folds. baela leans up, her sweet plump lips capturing him in a kiss just before he pushes in, groaning into her mouth as he sinks.

she feels wonderful jace thinks, so tight and warm that he wonders why in the hell he hasn’t done this before. there’s no feeling that has ever made him tremble the way he does now, buried deep in baela’s cunt. pleasure bleeds into his very soul, and he feels so euphoric that he needs to do something, anything to keep from losing his mind. he holds her, kisses her, sucks harshly on her breasts. does everything that lets him feel her, letting her sweet taste consume him to the point of oblivion.

and she lets him. gods be good, she holds onto him for dear life as his cock pounds into her, letting out the sweetest of sounds that he cherishes. he’s so full of love at the moment that jace can’t help that it tumbles from his lips. he whispers in her ear about how perfect she is for him, and how sweet and warm her cunny is. he tells baela that he couldn’t wait to marry her from the moment he saw her and that she’ll make the best wife to him. as he fucks into her, lewd sounds echoing through her room, jace feels her legs wrap around his back. he feels her pull him close and keep him there, hugging his body until there’s no space left between them.

it’s then that he asks, desperate as he fills an avalanche growing in his stomach, “will you take me? will you take my seed, my love?” when she nods, her own legs trembling and her cries blending with his, it’s then that jace pours everything that he has into her. everything that he is. sweet nothing after sweet nothing just seems to come out, as there’s no short amount of praises he gives as he snaps.

he’s on cloud nine, and it’s so overwhelming that jace cums harder than he ever has in his life. hot spurts of his seed flow from his cock and into baela, his balls firmly pressed against her ass to keep it there.

by the gods, he groans, “i wish to see you swollen with my children,” at least serval times. and he knows, jace knows that her sweet soft body will be the perfect place to grow his heirs.

in the morning, he’ll ask his mother for permission to marry her like he should’ve from the beginning. heaven knows that he’s too addicted to her now, too in love and cunt drunk to part. he’s can’t risk dying in this war without calling her his wife. can’t risk not being able to make love to her freely until their end. it’ll kill him inside, he thinks.

he holds onto her even as his cock softens. she winces a little as he pulls out, but he kisses her wet cheeks and is pleased to see that nothing spills from her cunt. it’s as if the mother herself has blessed her womb, blessed their union and allowed for not a single drop to spill. soon, her belly will swell with children that are perfect mix of their beautiful mother and their father. another reason for jace to fight, he thinks. another reason that they must win.

“for you. for our child. i will fight with everything i have in me, i promise,” he tells her.

baela simply weeps into his arms, overwhelmed by their union as well and sniffles out her own promises.

“i will be a good wife. i swear it to you,” she tells him, and it’s these sweet words that lull him off to sleep. he can’t stay there forever, they both know it, but jacaerys manages to sleep with her and hold her a little while longer before he’s forced to get up and leave her.

the next morning, he can’t stop smiling despite being forced to train all of the new dragonseed’s early. baela isn’t up yet but the thought of seeing her afterwards is what motivates him, though jace is a little confused as to why the only female dragonseed is now following him around. she’s giggling and acting all lovesick towards him, but even though she is beautiful and a sweet girl, his heart belongs to another after last night. but baela is nowhere to be seen. and in fact, rhaenyra tells jace later on that she’s not even in the castle, having flown to driftmark to retrieve lord corlys. in the meantime though, she decided to give you her room until jace’s betrothed comes back. after all, out of all of the dragonseeds, you are the only noble that answered the call. and it would be rude to let you sleep amongst the others, would it not?

[klausysworld]

I don’t know why but I really want something with Klaus breaking reads heart.

Maybe…. Reader and Cami have been kidnapped and Klaus has to choose who to save. He chooses Cami but before reader can be killed Elijah saves her.

Left for dead

Living with the originals was hard enough. Between the betrayals and the wars just within the family was overwhelming let alone outsiders going out of their way to destroy each of them.

Being with Klaus was already difficult, between his mood swings and temper tantrum’s he wasn't an easy person to love and yet I did.

Even when I realised he was in love with someone else, even whilst knowing he was kissing someone else, I didn't leave him. I loved him with everything in me whether it was killing me or not.

I had offered my life for his, I took life for his and I ruined my own life for his. With Klaus came his family and I did everything I could to welcome them as my own. Even after I found out that his sister knew that he was seeing someone else.

Hope was treated the way I would treat my own daughter and I loved more than anyone else to walk the planet. Maybe that was why I stayed, for Hope. Or maybe that’s what I tell myself because how could I have been pathetic enough to stay for a an who only saw me as a warm body.

For some reason I had it in my head that perhaps he loved both me and Camille. Maybe he thought I wouldn't accept it and so he kept it a secret but surely after everything he should know that I would never try to change him or invalidate his feelings. It was stupid to be okay with him seeing Cami behind my back, I was blinded by something I had created in my mind.

I would smile when Cami was near and I tried to talk to Klaus but he labelled me paranoid and brushed it off. So I thought maybe he regretted it and he didn't want me to know because he wanted to stop. Maybe he did still love me.

This was the ultimate test really.

Both myself and Camille were beaten until black, blue and bloody. A loop of our cries and screams echoed through my mind and bounced against the walls of whatever dungeon we were seemingly chained within. I had no way of knowing how long we had been there but my body and soul felt such a sense of relief when Klaus's voice rang through the building. That feeling only lasted a few seconds before our captures taunting replayed in my head:

"Klaus will choose between you both, he will decide who lives or dies. He may think that he can have it all, have you both but I won't let him well. Whichever one he chooses, the guilt from the other will eat away at him, he won't be able to stay with the other. You will all end up broken and alone." he had whispered cruelly.

Her heart pounded in her throat as she watched Klaus approach them both, his hands coated in red as he forced the bars that separated us apart and went to step through only to let out a gasp and drop to his knees. The with who had tortured us for however long appeared from thin air in front of Klaus and I automatically pulled my legs to my chest to hide in the corner.

"Only one of them leaves" he stated, a grin on his face. "I don't care which but you will choose one or they both die and the next to go missing will be your daughter"

At his words Klaus let out a vicious snarl and attempted to lurch forward at the man but a sharp pain forced its way to his head and caused a loud yell of pain to burst from within him.

I could feel my eyes burning with another flow of tears just watching his pain, knowing what he felt. I could see Cami staring straight at me. Over our time in here together she had often brought up Klaus's ultimatum, I told her that I knew that they loved each other. I told her that he would choose her. She was certain that I was wrong and that Klaus didn't love her but just used her as a release. But I knew what Klaus looked like when he was in love. Even so part of me hoped she was right, it was a dark thought, a horrible hope that I wish I didn't have but I really wanted it to be true.

I looked back to Camille, a tight lipped smile that was probably more of a grimace formed on my lips as I mouthed the words 'it'll be okay' to her and her head shook as tears slipped down her cheeks.

Cami was sweet, she was lovely and I loathed it. She wanted to die instead of me, she said I deserved to live more than she did. That I was Hope's second mother I was apart of the Mikaelsons. She apologised for ever being with Klaus and it just made me feel worse. I thought that maybe they were lies, maybe she secretly hoped that Klaus would choose her and I would be left to die.

I couldn't tell and it didn't really matter anymore. Not when I realised that Klaus was right in front of me. I felt a small spark of hope as his arms wrapped around me and he pulled my close to his chest. A soft sniffle left him and his lips pressed to the side and top of my head

"I'm so sorry" his voice whispered with a crack and I went to tell him it was okay before I felt him pulling away and I realised what he was apologising for "forgive me" he uttered as he made his way to Cami.

My eyes stayed blurry with tears but they didn't fall as a complete feeling of numbness spread throughout me completely. I could hear my captures sickening laugh spin around me and I could hear Camille asking Klaus what he was doing.

"Klaus- go back to her" she whispered but he shook his head

"I love you" he admitted and a bitter laugh left my lips. I covered my mouth with my hands and pressed my forehead against my knees. I shouldn’t have been surprised and I shouldn’t have been so upset. I knew he loved her, I knew he would choose but for some reason it hurt so much more when he actually confirmed it.

I could hear Camille apologising to me as Klaus lifted her up, carrying her to a safety I thought I would never again know.

As soon as they left hands were on me, grabbing and dragging me by my hair to force me to crawl wherever he wanted me. Uncontrollable pain shot through me continuously and I had no time to comprehend the sobs that shook my body. I felt my back arch painfully, almost breaking but not quite, my head was forced back so my neck was bared and a sharp knife went to the edge of my neck.

"it's unfortunate really..." the voice uttered before the blade began to sink into my throat. My eyes closed and I welcomed the quick death but the pressure stopped and a thud sounded from before me.

Fingers pressed to the place the knife had began to cut, a familiar scent engulfed me and an arm circled my waist.

"You're alright darling" the voice whispered, pulling me into an embrace making me grab onto the back of his suit silently. "He's gone now Y/n. You're safe." he murmured softly, rubbing my back before i felt him pull back a little bit. My eyes slowly cracked open to see his face, his deep dark eyes boring into mine with a knowing look of pity. Silently I watched as an array of reds and purples scattered under his chocolate brown eyes and his pearly fangs dipped into the tough skin of his wrist. The fresh wound was lifted to my lips and I accepted the metallic taste with a sigh. I drank for much longer than I needed, I expected he would pull be off but his hand only pet the back of my head gently

"Good girl" he whispered "just heal". His touch made my heart hurt and I didn't bother trying to stop the tears from falling anymore. My hands clutched onto his jacket desperately and I gulped his blood down as though it was water.

Soft touches were given to the skin of my face before his silk handkerchief cleaned at the dirt and dried blood that had dripped down my neck. Reluctantly I pulled away from his wrist and licked my lips clean. He wiped his own wrist and tucked the material away into his pocket. Elijah proceeded to pull the jacket off of his body and instead wrapped it around my shoulders. The inside was warm and smelt of home.

My eyes felt heavy with exhaustion and I gave him a tired smile making him frown.

"I'll bring you home now okay?" he whispered but I shook my head

"I can't go back" I muttered "I won't stay with him anymore. I should have left ages ago" I admitted and his eyes grew glossier.

"Where should I take you?" He asked gently and I shrugged

"Airport? Train station? I don't care just don't tell anyone you saved me? Please?" I begged softly and he nodded.

"I'll give you whatever you need" he promised "anything"

[woodland-gremlin]

Summoning Your Secret Boyfriend Pt. 7

This part was brought to you by the amazing @megasweetbones . They wrote this part, I simply edited it. Go check them and their work! Show them some love!

First Previously AU Summary

“Were you the ones that summoned me, freeing from the bane that is paperwork?” the being asked.

Constantine was momentarily thrown for a loop, but the Brit was able to right himself more quickly than any of the other heroes.

"We summoned you to make a deal. I'm offering my soul-"

"Let me stop you there." The King's smile was mocking. And probably terrifying to everyone else, given his fangs. His lichtenberg lightning marks spasming in a way that could be mistaken as agitation. "I know who you are, John Constantine. Many hold claim to fragments of your soul. But, even if that was not the case, I am the one who holds claim to all souls. As all souls have , and will, pass through the Infinite. Your soul holds no weight here. Neither does your mind or body. Do not bargain with them. And do not bargain with me. Simply tell me why it is you summoned me, as I already know what I want from you."

Constantine looked like he didn't know whether to be offended or not. But it seems fear won out, as well as desperation.

"Forgive me, please, your majesty. Trigon has threatened to destroy our universe, starting with Earth. We have summoned you here to ask that Trigon be forced to return to the Infinite Realms. Or, to at least be stopped from devouring our universe."

It was as if everything paused. The billow of the wind, crackling ice, the flicker of the candles, the shifting of the lightning scars and cape of stars.

"He has threatened... what?" Quiet, almost shocked, the words passed from the Ghost King's lips.

Lips which twisted into a snarl. Fangs elongated. Flickering candles became green blazes. Wind roared back into whipping gales. The King's body distorted with his rage. Unfathomable and nightmarish.

"He dares to Challenge me?!? My Rule? My Authority? He knows of how this world has those under my protection and, yet, still believes he can touch what is MINE?"

If Red Robin and Supernova hadn't already been exposed to this Eldritch madness and the Realms, frequently, they'd probably be near catatonic. Like the other heroes. Most were on the ground or leaning against something. Aquaman looked sea sick. Flash was shockingly still for once. Even Batman couldn’t handle the madness the King oozed.

Supernova can smell that at least two people have pissed themselves. Euwh. What an awful day to have a nose. Especially with his heightened sense of smell. Phantom could probably smell it too, though was uncaring in his rage.

At least Constantine was able to speak in the face of an angry Ancient who Rules the Infinite. His experience with powerful otherworldly beings that could end him at any moment coming in play.

"Please, let us know what deal it is you wish to make in order to have Trigon stopped. He will be here very soon."

"I want you to abolish the Anti-Ecto Acts and free the souls of my citizens, who were captured and experimented on under such heinous laws." Phantom turned to look at Red Robin and Supernova, who should have pretended to be affected like the others. As it stands though, they were standing there. Unshaken and unaffected. "There are those among you who have already worked to undo the damage. But they should not be forced to work alone. I want all of you to support them and my people you have wronged. I want my people returned, safe and sound."

Phantom was finally able to calm down as he spoke. Wind slowed down and candles went back to but a flicker. He turned back to look Constantine dead in the eyes.

"Make no mistake, I would have fought for the Earth, and this universe, the moment I was made aware of Trigon. I have my own reasons for protecting this world and its people. But I expect the same in return. In that you are protecting the health, well-being, and safety of your people? I must do the same. Free my people and erase the laws that allow your kind to hunt us for sport and science. This is not a deal, as it's my job to prevent my people from destroying the Balance. No, this is a warning. My people may question why I'd save yours, given these laws. My people want war. While I deal with Trigon, you will undo the mistakes of your government. Or else, banishing Trigon would be for nothing."

With that, the King left. Ice and the haunting aura leaving with him.

Constantine looked over at the two young men who stood, casual and unmoving. He, as well as every other person in the room, was still shaking. The whole situation called for a drink, or a dozen. But he knew that he needed to get everyone in order to fulfill their end of the deal. The Bat would just knock down any liquor once he was aware and the Anti-Ecto Acts were too important to deal with while drunk. Bullocks.

To be continued?

Note: Hoped you guys enjoyed that! @megasweetbone really out did themselves. Now the question is this a good place to finish? There isn't much more I would add but some aftermath so I want you guys to tell me if I should just leave it as is or not. Once it is finished I am going to ask the others who helped with the story ( @fanfics-or-dragons and @megasweetbones ) if I can post it on Ao3! After all I want to properly credit them so knowing if they have an account so I can add them as a guest writer or credit them another way. Tell me your thoughts in the comments!

-Gremlin

Edit: I have decide to post it on Ao3. If I decide to add anymore it will be in an epilogue or another story. Thanks for your support!

[normal-thoughts-official]

it always struck me as kind of hilarious that you have to pass a 30DC check to convince shadowheart not to kill dame aylin but if you're just like "sure do whatever lol" she chooses not to kill her anyway. tsundere ass fuck. killing is bad unless it's out of spite. i have morals unless you try to tell me what to do

but i just got to that scene in my new replay and it made me realize that that's not what's at stake at all

because the persuasion check isn't "don't do this". the persuasion check is, your life is whatever you make of it. you don't have to do something just because your goddess tells you to.

convincing shadowheart not to kill dame aylin is easy. she knows it's wrong, and she doesn't want to, not really. if given the choice, she is literally unable to go through with it even if she clearly wants to, or wants to want to so badly she can't tell the difference

the problem is convincing her she has an option in the first place

the problem is convincing her that her life is her own

shadowheart has never belonged to herself since she was captured. not in body, not in soul, not in mind, not even her memories. she quite literally doesn't know who she is in more ways than one. she doesn't know her past or her family, she doesn't know who her loved ones are (including the sharran loved ones, like nocturne), all she really knows about herself is a fear of wolves that's been implanted into her by lies and an attachment to a flower she can't remember the details of. and a mission. always a mission. the will of someone else she has to carry on, that is not for her to understand or question or think about. she can't even want to serve shar, because she isn't allowed to pursue her intention to become a dark justiciar. she is supposed to be well and truly nothing, empty as the sharran doctrine

(oh, and pain that she doesn't know the reason of. no matter what, she must bear the pain)

how can she see herself as more than her goddess, when she quite literally doesn't know anything about who she is other than her devotion to shar? how can she choose her own destiny, when she couldn't even choose how to devote and give herself over to her?

she can't, which is why, unless you have infinite rizz points and/or roll a nat20, shadowheart attacks you. not dame aylin. you. and she never argues about whether or not it's the right thing, because she knows. what she's rebelling against isn't the idea of letting dame aylin go. what she's rebelling against is the idea that she could leave her cage and belong to no one but herself. because the idea is scary and she quite literally doesn't know where to begin. which is why her obsession becomes to find her parents, even though she doesn't remember them at all. because maybe they can tell her who she's supposed to be, and she can have the comfort of having her path laid out before her again

(which is also why she has to kill them. not because of some hand hurty curse bullshit. but because she just wants them and selûne to become the new shar, and she has to let that go if she truly means to claim herself again)

and now im sad. because it's easier for shadowheart to do turn against shar and everything she's ever had on the grounds of saving someone else than on the grounds that she deserves better than to be a puppet. even if you do nothing, saving dame aylin, to her, is easy. saving herself is a wholly different matter, one she's not sure she has any right to, or wants to, even if it's what she really needs. accepting a selûnite's humanity is easier than accepting her own. losing everything is easier than gaining her own autonomy. and she will fight tooth and nail to be allowed to stay in her own, metaphorical soul cage

[yanderestarangel]

tio miguel o'hara au

art cr: @/Andalusia_lu-

TW: EXTREMELY DARK CONTENT, STEP INCEST, OC MIGUEL, MANIPULATION, VIOLENCE, ALCOHOL, DARK THEMES, TRAUMA, GRIEF, BROKEN MIND, DUB CON, NON CON, POWER PLAY, HARASSMENT, GN READER, THREAT, PAIN KINK, DOLLFICATION, NSFW, BREEDKINK.

˖⁺ ⊹୨ notes ୧⊹ ⁺˖ no negativity please. If this isn’t your sort of content you’re more than welcome to block me and move on with your day.

I just wanted to make a definitive AU for my version of "Tio" Miguel O'Hara ✧⁠*ᜊ( ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ᜊ.

[PART.1.]

♡ ┆Tio Miguel is your non-blood uncle who is thirty-five years old, his skin tanned by the hot midday sun accentuates his body and he has greater muscle mass than most men of his age; brown hair usually combed back and dark brown eyes that seem to penetrate your soul.

♡ ┆ He arrived like a hurricane in your life and that of your family, right after you moved to another quieter place in the Mexican city, practically a rural place where Miguel lived just a few meters away on a large farm, isolated from curious eyes.

♡ ┆ You had a grandmother who already lived there and she introduced the previously unknown man to you, saying that he was Miguel O'Hara, a close neighbor who always came to visit and was always nice to her, practically a son for the older lady. The tall Mexican man helped your family unload the moving truck, he was the first to approach like a silent plague and the target was always you, since the first time he saw you he had felt something more like his life had meaning again.

♡ ┆ Soon he began to frequent your house, being a friendly and solitary gentleman keeping everything from his past between his teeth despite the entire reception of his family with his persona. You, on the other hand, saw how he always seemed to look for you regardless of the situation you were in, even asking you to call him "Uncle" and that was when it all really started for both of you, the demand to be called that was subtle but already functional that even your parents told/demanded that you respect the man as someone in the family and in a short time he was already an influential and feared member of your family.

♡ ┆He is almost always seen dressed in ranch clothes or dress shirts and jeans - punctuated with cowboy or work boots, most of the time they are expensive fabrics that are not compatible with the minimum wage he receives for his work as a caregiver of farms or livestock. He is occasionally seen wearing a shabby brown suede cowboy hat.

♡ ┆When you ask him about his profession he just smiles and uses the same excuse that he got extra money from some competitions he won at the local bullfight ─ and the mysterious gain is not only used for his own use but also to buy gifts for you, he is not afraid to manipulate or seduce you with monetary gains to capture your attention and keep it, if you want something he will give it to you without thinking twice just to keep you for him, whether for his money or by making you afraid. Miguel secretly ran the underworld of drugs and smuggling but he would never tell you that and he would rather die than for you to discover his source of money in reality.

♡ ┆He always uses affectionate and possessive nicknames with you, like 'Mi vida' 'Mi angelito' 'Mi carinõ'; practically like a passionate lover would do or even he would grab you and hug you, touching you in different places and leaving a trail of heat wherever his fingers passed, even though he was your uncle he would treat you like a possessive companion would.

♡ ┆He drinks a lot, his favorite drink is expensive and pure whiskey. He also becomes almost predatory when he's drunk, often coming into your room on celebratory nights and whispering dark promises to you ─ you've seen him kneeling at the side of your bed as the warm alcoholic breath comes from his thick lips, phrases like: "You will always belong to me", "anyone who dares to come close to you I will kill them.", "I will never let you slip out of my hands, my precious angel." Or even the secret desires to use your body escaped his lips on those rare nights when the drink overcame his stoic and cold demeanor.

♡ ┆Most of his cold behavior is the result of the fact that he never had children and also due to the death of his late wife, killed by a fateful fate that he refused to talk about. He tends to be extremely rude to everyone but he tries to be as gentle as possible with you, even though it can be scary at times. He is domineering, impatient and quick-tempered, looking for your company during family outings or parties. Miguel will manipulate you by saying that his behavior is normal, saying that you were his family and he was just trying to make your bond grow and he will also manipulate your family to sweep away any complaints you may make. from the carpet or say that you were being dramatic and if you try to return his advances he can be extremely rude and easily hold your body, whispering subtle threats like: "You don't want to see me angry, do you, angel?" While leaving your wrists marked red from the force he had put there.

♡ ┆He doesn't let you have boyfriends or girlfriends, if you dare to have a partner he will do everything to make your parents stop this relationship. Even if you are an adult he will do everything in his power to make your life hell if you dare to leave him for a random person. Most of your relationships ended mysteriously because your dear tio used his influence in the underworld to threaten your partner. It will also alienate you from friends or acquaintances, a useful way to maintain control over yourself.

♡ ┆He always invites you to his farm on the weekends, always with the promise of some expensive gift or comfort from all the weekly stress. If you accepted (through free and spontaneous pressure from him) he would spoil you and always spend exorbitant amounts of money on you. If you have problems with your family, he will convince you to leave your home and talk to your parents to let you stay with him in his house for an indefinite period of time. Your Tio I planned to make you his perfect future companion, submissive and untouched by the evils of the world, a husband/wife so he could have a real family again, even if he was your uncle.

♡ ┆He tries to make you sleep with him several times, be it with monetary gains, manipulation or breaking you to the point that you throw yourself into his arms because he thinks you won't get anyone to love you like he does. During sex he plays the role of a tough dominant, often treating you roughly and likes to use your body to vent his frustrations. Miguel will choke and bite you, marking your neck and shoulders with painful, red bites, - even hitting you if you try to struggle or struggle against him, whether it's slaps to the face or butt making you whimper and become more still and controlled in his control. He uses his greater physical experience and constitution to hold you back if you try to run. Your Uncle likes to fantasize about getting you pregnant and making you a perfect little doll for him, he fills all your holes with his semen. He can spit in your mouth, hit his dick on your face, giving you hickeys on your neck, strong bites, or cumming on your face and recording everything afterwards to threaten you if you don't want to accept his marriage proposal later.

[goldsbitch]

Past lives

Charles Leclerc is opening an ice-cream shop...And nobody knows why.

romantic, soulmate au, one shot, short

"Past lives couldn't ever hold me down Lost love is sweeter when it's finally found I've got the strangest feeling This isn't our first time around" - Past Lives, Børns

It's the little things that resonate for no apparent reason.

The fact he would always lean towards a perfume with bergamot undertones - because in his past life, the love of his love was obsessed with bergamot tea.

The fact she would have the windows open at any possible occasion - because in her past, she and the love of her life lived in a small house at the top of a windy hill.

The fact he hated alcohol, because in one their lifetimes, the love of his life drowned her sorrows a little too often and lost herself in it.

The fact she could not watch war time movies, because in one of their past lives he died tragically, and a little too early for them to build a proper life together.

They did not get to meet in each life. But when they did, it was one for the history books. Not the ones about grandiose, history changing events, but the little sweet ones, usually to be found at the back of the antique bookstores. The mundane miracles that are hard to describe to the unlucky ones, who do not get to experience them. Some of them end up with a happy end, some of them with the biggest life lessons human soul can swallow.

It's the strange feeling of "I belong here" or "I think this will taste good". Why? Because you had seen it in the past, because you had been there in a different life time.

Fate plays a funny little game. Has one and their soulmate born just in time for them to be able to find each other, but likes to put obstacles in between. Distance, social barriers, conflicting dreams.

This kind of love leaves traces around the history. Songs, poems, buildings and initials carved into stones and benches. Wedding rings passed on in families and eventually sold once everyone has forgotten. Portraits of unknown faces and photos found at the bottom of old wardrobes. The ancient piping in an old house that still works because he built it for her to live in.

The soul keeps a memory, unreachable to the simple mind of the body, as it travelled from one lifetime to another.

That's how she found herself staring at a random, actually not that important, painting hung in a gallery exhibition dedicated to landscapes from the romantic era. She wasn't exactly a galleries type of person, but a girls trip to Paris had to include something more than parties and shopping. She stood there for good five minutes, totally mesmerised by a painting that did not particularly stood out from the rest. Little did she know that the silhouette standing in the field was one of her past self and that the painting had been done by her soulmate in one of their luckier past lives. It was like she could smell the summer weeds growing, hear the ground under her feet and understood what the author wanted to capture. And he was successful enough to capture the attention of his love throughout centuries once again. As her friends dragged her away to end their artsy part of their trip, she made sure to mark the name of the artist.

For some inexplicable reason, Charles Leclerc, in this life a racing driver, was opening an ice cream shop in in Milan. It probably would have made more sense to everyone, himself included, if he'd known that in one of their luckier past lives, he and his soulmate met in a small café in that city, few decades before that. He would come in one day, order an ice-cream and then did not stop coming until he managed to charm her.

[mitfloya]

𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐃𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐒𝐩𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬: 𝐑𝐚𝐟𝐚𝐲𝐞𝐥

pairings. Rafayel x gn!reader

wc. 6.8K

synopsis. He believes that by isolating you, he can protect you from the outside world and ensure your happiness together. In his twisted mind, this is his way of creating a perfect and eternal bond, you’re his muse, his statue of beauty, his own aphrodite.

warnings. The following content contains elements of obsessive behavior, yandere thoughts, stalking, possessive behavior, and may include poorly written narratives. Reader is referred to as 'you'. Proceed with caution, as this writing may be unsettling or uncomfortable for some individuals.

a/n. Hiyaaa! Thank you so much for the people that have helped me make my post manage to slip through the timeline! I kid you not I had to break my spine with this issues I kept running into (the ori yandere Zayne post is gone, I’m sorry for the inconvenience), if any of you have any suggestions on how to make my post made it into the tags please tell them on the comments section. Get ready and have some snacks and hope you enjoy reading another hc I made

♡ Please reblog and comment on this post are much, much appreciated ♡

A manchild…? you love this guy? Me being a slander and simp at the same time

To put it simply, Rafayel is always the damsel in distress and YOU are his knight shining armor. He needs your attention and protection 24/7, you don’t want him to end up dead, do you? The whole universe will miss him. 

First of all, he loves you. Second of all, he hates you. 

You’re like a goldfish, how could you not remember the vows you both made when you were just a little kid?! The mere fact that you failed to recognize his face shattered his heart into pieces, for you hold immense significance in his life.

The weight of your indifference crashed upon him like a tidal wave, leaving his emotions in ruins. It was like a tornado tearing through his soul, causing a gut-wrenching ache that seemed to consume him from within.

It creates a twisted cycle of emotions that he struggles to contain. He yearns for the love you once shared, yet despises you for not remembering the bond you had. 

Perhaps he regrets not taking action in the past to ensure he could always locate you, to have left a distinctive mark upon you as a means of tracking your whereabouts.

You should’ve recognized him at first glance. Where have you been? He thought he lost you, he doesn’t even want to wish upon your death but you make it harder for him not to.

You’ve grown so much and so many changes but you’re still the same person he met at the beach, and it makes him feels so many emotions at once, it’s the first time he has managed to put a rein over his emotions, he could’ve coax you to come to his studio and locked you up, if you were to recognize him.

His heart longed to show much he misses you yet his mind tells him to seek revenge. It’s like his body and soul is splitting. Do you know how much damage you are causing him?

You must understand, my dear, that he is determined not to repeat past mistakes. It is time for him to take drastic measures, to make a promise that will bind you to him forever. He sees you as his ultimate protector, his unwavering shield. From this moment forward, you will never leave his sight again.

In his eyes, you have always belonged to each other, from the very beginning. Your destinies intertwined, your fates entangled. He craves the security of knowing that you are by his side, guarding his every step, his every breath. No longer will he allow even the smallest sliver of distance to separate you.

From the beginning you are his as much as he is yours.

His artistic talent is both his greatest strength and his greatest weapon. Through his art, he immortalizes his love and hatred for you, capturing the complexities of his emotions with every stroke of the brush. His creations serve as a constant reminder of his twisted desires. 

Initially consumed by hatred, he concealed his love, allowing it to resurface gradually, in subtle and tender ways. 

It’s the slowest burn you could ever imagine. Painstakingly slow.

As Rafayel's hatred gradually diminished, he began to express his feelings more openly, albeit subtly, leaving significant hints about the depth of his emotions towards you. Similar to a small forest fire that grows steadily, each progression was deliberate and methodical until it consumed the entire forest, an uncontrollable blaze that can’t be extuingish.

Say goodbye to freedom and welcome to his world, now that you’re his. He will be the center of your universe.

Clinginess is an inherent trait of Rafayel's nature. He craves your presence and attention, unable to bear the thought of being separated from you even for a moment. He will go to great lengths to ensure that you never leave his side.

You've grown accustomed to his playful nature and constant need for attention, but be prepared for an amplified version, as his demands intensify. Good luck dealing with your man ♡

He is a man of pride, he immortalizes you through his art, proudly showcasing pieces dedicated to you at his exhibitions. While abstract in form, this exclusivity serves to intrigue others, leaving them pondering what makes you so special in his eyes.

Unknown to you hidden away within his personal stash, there is a gallery dedicated solely to you. Every piece of artwork revolves around your existence, capturing his obsession with meticulous detail. The walls are adorned with portraits, each stroke of the brush reflecting his twisted love for you.

But at the very least, he showers you with lots of love and affection, no more holding back.

In relationships, he presents himself as a calm and romantic partner, radiating an aura of serenity akin to the sea. He enjoys spending quality time with you, whether it be casual outings or simply sharing space in silence. With him, you will never feel alone.

But do not be deceived by the calm waters, for they possess the ability to draw you into the depths of darkness, leaving you submerged and unable to resurface. His obsession remains unpredictable, much like the ever-changing tides of the sea. 

Oh, how you've stumbled into his clutches the moment you made that fateful vow. There is no turning back, my dear. You have fallen into the siren's trap, lured by his haunting charm. You are now forever entwined in his grasp, unable to break free. You should have thought twice before crossing paths with him if you weren't planning to stay.

He has two preferred methods of dealing with nuisances. He may choose to be smug and show off his superiority, rubbing his success in their faces. He revels in flaunting his success and talents, using them as a means to intimidate and belittle those who dare to steal you away.

However, if they persist, he is unafraid to resort to physical means, utilizing violence to eliminate them from your life. He goes to extreme lengths, even shedding blood and concealing the evidence of his actions, all in the name of safeguarding your well-being and maintaining his possessive hold over you.

His possessiveness knows no bounds, his desire to claim you as his own overpowering any sense of reason. He will go to great lengths to ensure that no one else can possess you, viewing you as his ultimate masterpiece.

When faced with difficulty or resistance from you, Rafayel won't hesitate to take drastic measures. He is willing to use any means necessary, including drugs, to put you to sleep and kidnap you. He will isolate you in his studio, ensuring that you will be together forever.

His studio, the place where he creates his art, becomes both a sanctuary and prison for you. Within its walls, he controls every aspect of your existence, dictating your every move and stifling your individuality. It is a place where his obsession can flourish unchecked.

You will forever remain under his possession, as he claims you and binds you eternally.

© 2024 mitfloya — all rights reserved. kindly refrain from altering, translating, or repost my works on any platform without my consent, do not claim my content as yours.

[reverieblondie]

Slight angst in this one (for each/any of the tiefling bachelors—plus Raphael and/or Gortash if you want—who is crushing on and/or infatuated with Tav): Tav surprising him with a searing kiss then whispering to him, "In case I never get to see you again" before running into battle and disappearing from sight in the fray (maybe it's the final battle of the game or something else, your choice), knowing he/she/they might not make it out alive.

Hey Anon! Thank you for the ask! So for the first bullet point i made it kinda angsty, But I can't do a sad ending so the second bullet point is a sweet end! Hope you enjoy!

Zevlor

He doesn’t know why he did it…but before you can run off to the netherbrain, Zevlor reaches out to capture your hand in his.  There are a thousand things he wants to tell you as he looks into your bright eyes. There is just no time he knows this. You know this… But despite everything crumbling around you two, despite knowing you’re the only one who can save this city, he’s not ready to let go of your hand. The fear of this being the last time he will see you is too much. His eyes are a silent plea to you; you want to promise, but you both know you can’t. You crash yourself into his armored body, trying not to slip the tears aching in your eyes. You want one more night in his warmth and hearing his calming whispers… Leaning up to capture his full lips into a kiss, Allowing yourself to relish in his warmth that has eased you only a night before… gods, you don’t want to leave him… you want to stay… you want to tell him how scared you are… Breaking the kiss, you run your hands over his cheeks, “In case I never get to see you again… just know I love you, Zevlor.” Zevlor finally breaks free from his thoughts, “I love you too.” with a final tight hug, you slip out of his arms, and he watches as you leave with your companions. Zevlor takes a moment to pray… the gods have not always been good to him… but please let them bring you back to him. Zevlor hears screams to the right, and he runs to help with you still on his mind. 

His chest burns from all the running, his muscles screaming in agony as he swings down on the illithods, cutting down the foul creatures. Zevlor saw the crash in the sea… please be okay; please be there… Zevlor could have made it there by now, but he couldn’t bring himself to run past the helpless civilians still under attack. Once the illithiod is down, he doesn’t even register the thanks he receives as he sprints to where he hopes you are. That’s when he sees you… bloody and clutching your side, looking around frantically till your eyes meet his. Zevlor throws down his sword to catch your limping form. You’re falling to your knees together as soon as you two collide. Zevlor is trying to get your armor off to heal you, but he can’t get the words out as you keep kissing his lips.

Rolan

Rolan is frantically pacing around, gathering spell scrolls and any healing potion he can find. Rounding the corner, there you are, calmly talking to your companions about your battle plans. Your eyes are fierce and determined… the eyes of a true leader… Your voice is calm and collected as it’s always been; as Rolan watches you, he thinks back on all you have done, and all the more you could do…there is just no one else like you. Rolan furrows his brows… why did he never tell you that… there is no one he will ever meet with your heroic soul, your addictive laugh, or your kind heart… As he watches you, he thinks about all the words he wanted to say… Could he tell you now? Should he confess his feelings to you, or would that seem cheap… You and your party start packing to leave, and Rolan runs up to you, handing over everything he could find. You look at the sheer amount of it all and let out a slight laugh, “Wow, Rolan, you must really like me.” of course, only you would find a way to still laugh and tease in a situation like this. Rolan looks at you, and you feel your heart stop. “Tav… I have so much to tell you… feelings that have stirred in me from the moment we met…” it’s then that Rolan grabs you in a sudden hug, his breath shuddering as he holds you close… “Please come back so I can properly confess to you…” You can only manage a soft chuckle as you hold him back tighter… he has the worst timing. Pulling back from him, you quickly kiss his lips before he can say more. The kiss is passionate and hungry. You dig your nails into his back as you feel his claws in your hair, as you finally get to taste him. Pulling away to rest your forehead on his, you two take a second to catch your breaths, “Rolan…I-I can’t promise I will come back…but I will try… but in case I never see you again… I like you a lot, too.” Rolan’s chest aches as he tries not to sob; with one more quick kiss, he watches his hero leave… hoping that you can return to him like you have so many times before…

He couldn’t let his worried thoughts get the better of him right now. Cal and Lia are shuffling in the hurt, and Rolan is trying to help the clerics as much as possible. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t hear their muttering of the explosion of the brain… of how many are lost now. Rolan tries to keep the aching in as he bites back his tears… Tav has done so much; they can’t be gone…they can’t… Rolans unsure when he stopped moving or when he started to cry. It wasn’t until Cal came to his side to check on him that he felt the tears dropping from his cheeks. Cal tries to get Rolan to the back of the shop to console him, but then he pauses and looks to the front door it awe. Then Rolan feels the crashing of a familiar embrace; he whips around quickly to see your smiling face holding on tightly to him. You’re dirty and beaten but alive… You look up at him and wipe away his tears, still with that kind smile, “worried about me?” Rolan wants to laugh, wants to cry, wants to kiss you endlessly, “of course I was worried! I thought you exploded! Or Or-” You lean into his perfect lips, silencing him with a kiss, feeling his wet cheeks that makes you tear up. Rolan breaks away from you, his golden eyes staring into yours, calmer now, “I thought I lost you…” you shake your head and lean into his chest, letting him hold you tight. "I'm yours Rolan..." 

Raphael

It’s silent in the room; Raphael knows that you know he’s here watching you. Raphael’s umber eyes slowly roll over you, from your beat-up old boots up your armored legs and back, then pausing to your hair. How though the rest of you is so worn down, your hair is still shiny and as enticing as ever... Raphael wants to approach you and run his fingers through your hair, to stop you from going, and drag you off to his home; before he realizes, he’s right behind you, somehow holding off from reaching out towards you. Trying so hard to keep that desire down. You’re trying to save yourself; you’re going to retrieve the crown for him, and the possibility of you not returning alive is greater than he cares to think about. Raphael hates this sinking feeling. It makes him want to hate you. How do you stir these sickening feelings in his chest? Raphael especially hates how you make him actually care for you, something he has not done for any mortal before. You turn around to face him finally; Raphael knows to put on his smug smile to help distance himself from you, though today it’s not looking like it’s going to work: “You look, terrified mouse ..... don’t tell me you’re getting cold feet now?“ You look into his eyes, and he feels his smile slightly flatter, “Do you have a plan if I don’t make it back?” there is the smallest tremble in your voice. Raphael steps closer and touches the small loose strains of your hair between his thumb and forefinger, “I’m expecting for you to not disappoint me ...to not leave me …” A small nod is your response to this answer, then a small smile curls to your soft lips. Raphael hums in confusion at the sudden switch of mood, and that’s when you press your hands to his chest and crane your neck up to kiss him suddenly; Raphael is bewildered for a moment before he falls for his inner desire and kisses you back, causing him to push you against the wall leaving you both painting once you break. Your lidded eyes are on his as your fingers trace his lips. “Well... In case I don’t come back," Before you finish, Raphael interrupts, “You will come back to me, mouse. You’re mine ...”

Rapheal had watched the brain fall into the harbor, but he knew he just knew you were alright, So he waits .... and waits and waits .... Rapheal starts to feel the worry bloom within, and that’s when he sees you. Body drenched, clearly exhausted, and tadpole-free. Rapheal waits in the shadows till your companions leave, and that’s when he approaches. You two study each other for a moment, despite you clearly looking like you’ve been through hell; he’s never thought you’ve looked more beautiful. You move to walk towards him, but your legs give out on you; in an instant, your nose is filled with smoky sparks, and your wet body is now in a warm embrace of Raphael’s arms. Raphael holds you for a long moment, letting you taken in his warmth as he buries his nose in your hair, holding you tightly before he whispers in your ear, “Don’t let them see you fall yet, mouse, you still have things to do, appearances to keep ... but when it’s done, you will come and nest with me”. Raphael hears you hum softly, and he can’t help but grin; he will have the crown, the hells, and his mouse... it’s all too perfect.

Dammon

Dammon has never seen you shake before, but as he’s retrieving a sword for you, he thinks he sees that nervousness. Considering what you’re about to be up against, it only makes sense that you’re nervous. Dammon puts the sword down and approaches you; he sees that you’re too lost in your thoughts to really pay attention, so he slowly reaches out and grabs your trembling hand. Instantly, you look up to his dazily blue eyes; Dammons smile is soft like it always is for you. You feel your body start to calm as he holds your hand; you feel the rough calluses and his thumb rubbing in slow circles. “Tav, you will be alright, I just know it ... you’re an amazing fighter ... an amazing hero. I know you will do what you need to.” You stifle a laugh, “How are you always so positive?” Dammon thinks for a moment till he brings your hand to his lips and kisses your knuckles softly, "I refuse to think of a world without you in it." Dammon knows it’s not enough to fully ease you, but it does earn him a smile from his favorite traveler. Before he knows it, your hand is on the back of his neck, and you are pressing a kiss to his lips. Pulling away, Dammon doesn’t let you go far. He keeps his hold firm to your hips, relishing this small moment of bliss. “In case I never get to see you again.” You say with a smile before your parting from him. You go to grab your sword and meet with your companions, but before you’re gone, he grabs your hand one more time. You look down at your hand and see he’s given you his green scarf; you give a confused look at him, “A piece of me to take with you. I hope it brings you a small comfort.” With that, you run off with his scarf tied around your neck, promising yourself to return it to him and see him again.

Shit, why hasn’t he gotten news if you’re okay? He heard of the crash and saw the blast, but there were still illithods roaming the streets. Dammon just needs to know if you’re okay if you made it. Fuck this waiting; Domman grabs one of his better swords to arm himself to go find you to hold you and smile for you. As Dammon is going to leave the forge, he sees an illithod coming up the stairs, looking for a quick meal. Dammon isn’t inept at fighting, but mind flyers are bigger than he thought. Turning to go the other way, he realizes another is behind him. In a panic, Dammon turns to lock himself in the forge and hopefully make a plan for himself. But before he can, it’s too late, and he feels like someone is grabbing him. Dammon feels its long fingers wrapping around his face, and he knows it’s the end for him; he only hopes you are Okay; please just be okay. Then, with a sharp screech, he feels the hand loosen on his face, dropping him to the ground. When he looks up, he sees one illithod bleeding out as the other is quickly beheaded by you in a graceful swing. Dammon sits there looking up at your dominant form; his hero has saved him again. In the next moment, you’re on the ground checking him for wounds, but that is cut short by him grabbing you and holding you, burying his face in your chest, thanking every god he can think of that you are still okay.

[moon7jay]

IMAGINE THIS MAN BEING UR PROFESSOR??? IM DYING

lord he looks like that one cold professor who's always strict with everyone and doesn't give anyone any attention apart from academics BUT. But.

there's you. Imagine him like a literature professor. And you're his best student. You don't talk much but your writings and thoughts are like a mirror to your soul and he doesn't even know when he started feeling this way about you. like he wanted to crack you open, wanted to pull you apart, wanted to get familiar with every single fibre of you till he's consumed you whole. Always asks you to stay back after class just so he can talk to you a little bit more, maybe get to you a little bit closer, understand you a little bit better. He doesn't even realise when he started to lose his composure around you, leaning closer just to get a whiff of your vanilla perfume, his fingers subconsciously reaching to caress your cheek while you talked just to get a feel of your soft skin. and when you stutter, flushing red because of his actions, he can't hold back anymore. Pushing you against the class room door, closing it with force while he traps you against it, his proximity making your mind spiral. "You drive me crazy you know that?" He whispers softly into your ear, his hot breath warming up the apple of your cheek. Your hands rest against his chest, crumpling his suit shirt with how hard you're grabbing it for support. His touch is desperate, fueled by the endless nights he spent in his bed imagining your body pressed close to his in the most intimate ways. You're gasping when he sinks his fangs into the tempting skin of your neck. The taste of your skin has him groaning, he hastily dives into your mouth, capturing your lips in a harsh kiss while he pulls your body closer by your waist, his body yearning to be one with yours. He moans into your mouth upon feeling your tongue tangle with his own, wondering if this is what heaven tastes like. You don't remember how long he kept you pressed against the door, his tongue tasting your hot mouth, desperately making out till you were struggling to breathe and when you do pull away, panting for air, there's a string of saliva connecting your mouths. It takes muffled voices outside to break you out of your daze and you push him away from you, quickly gathering your things and sprinting outside, leaving him standing there in the middle of the class with his fingers touching his mouth, basking in your taste. He knows it's wrong but now that he's got a taste, he doesn't think he can stop himself even if he wanted to.

Phew, I got carried away, my bad

[fukashiin]

 attractive things they do

— w. vice rizzwardens and ruggie

⤷ how the littlest actions they execute can make your heart skip a beat

cw: wee bit of favouritism put into trey’s, passive reader...c:

TREY CLOVER

telling you to focus when you’re caught staring at him.

trey's perceptive—and that normally drags you down to a disadvantage in your stance. when your eyes carelessly stray to any revealed parts of his body, to his bare neck, from his toned forearms and his veiny hands that flexed under each stroke of the pen while he jots down the next set of formulas to help you with your forthcoming exams, he breathes a small chuckle and reminds you to keep your eyes on the work, not him. are you absolutely sure you're not going to bomb those exams on the spot?

placing his hand on your forehead to check if you have a fever.

the whirling butterflies you get in your stomach just from the supposed unromantic proximity is downright laughable. and your mind's in a mess—what's with trey and his tendency to lean in unnecessarily close when he does this? until the tip of your noses are touching too? he finds it amusing how the innocence of such an act can drive you bereft of speech. you on the other hand, wonder how such things can be categorised as 'innocent' without a second thought. he playfully delivers a soft flick to your forehead after that.

smiling at you when you get excited over the littlest things.

his knowing smile goes missed when you squeal in delight. was it an announcement for the next sequel of a series you've been recently binging? your favourite artists revealing a comeback in the most unexpected timing? regardless, trey has his eyes set entirely on you while you're still on cloud 9. your moment of ecstasy gradually dies down once you notice the small smirk that graces his lips, earning a rapid rush of blood to your ears.

RUGGIE BUCCHI

placing a quick peck on your cheek when he passes by in the hallway.

when ruggie would speed to his next class in a hurry, sometimes he would see you from the corner of his eyes. the unaware, unsuspecting you who wouldn’t even hear his footsteps that blends in within the rest of the noise approaching closer from behind. when he whistles your name out in the open to capture your attention, the swift feeling of smooth, velvety lips come in contact upon your cheek. and being the devious hyena he is—he slips away as quickly as how he came by. the echoing snickers that leaves his lips has you cupping your cheeks in embarrassment.

calmly protecting you from harm.

one moment, you’re being picked on by a group of huddled pests that throw unscripted threats to your vulnerable self. the next, a silhouette appears infront of you, unhurried, as it speaks out an incantation before the perpetrators hit the ground the next second. you’re not sure how it happened, the pace of how things went flew by in a flash, but ruggie just turns back smugly and reassures you that you’re all good. there’s no mistaking it, you were charmed.

reminding you to take care of yourself.

your heart is filled with fondness to the brim when ruggie makes sure that you won’t neglect your own health when he’s gone. he’ll make sure you have every necessity checked off the list, from 10 whole packs of rice crackers and countless bottled water enough to fill a whole carriage he purchased from the nearest (and cheapest) convenience store he could find. he doesn’t leave without a fleeting peck to the lips, before patting your head and spurting off to his next destination.

JADE LEECH

calling you sweet pet names when he catches you off guard.

you’re aware that jade’s an utter meanie when it comes to grasping opportunities to elicit a reaction from you at best. when he catches you in his field of sight, unguarded, not bothering a single soul, he’ll call out to you! but, not by your name, an endearing pet name that he picked out all for you. “my dearest, would you allow me to accompany you to wherever for today?” he talks, coyly. you knew better than to let yourself stutter out the next few words you wanted to say.

staying unfazed when you get mad at him.

you wish you were wiser when it comes to disputes between you and him, but the bubbling anger gets too hard to take control of that you wouldn’t dare to see yourself the next moment when you burst. despite your outburst—which to jade—was none other than expected, his expression remains unaltered. he rather relishes in the way your body cowers back in response to his longing stare, feeling fairly shy after creating such a scene. but he just brushes it off and reminds you to take it slow, that this childish bickering between you two is doing none of you good. he’ll make sure to brew you some steaming tea (and talk about how adorable you were).

pushing your hair behind your ear.

mid-conversation, he doesn’t seem to care, jade’ll nonchalantly tuck your hair back behind your ear when he notices it getting a tad too untidy. your breath hitches, and before you knew it, it didn’t even seem casual in the least. with different-coloured eyes burning right into yours, he doesn’t overlook the way your fingers twitch and how your ramblings came to a screeching halt. he backs himself once again, insisting you to continue from where you stopped. if that’s the way you’re going to react, he might as well do this as much as he can, yes?

JAMIL VIPER

placing his hand on your waist to gently push you aside.

the sudden pressure that plants itself on your waist startles you. you were just peeling some vegetables until spindly fingers came to rest at your side, a hand that belonged to jamil, and smoothly maneuvered you aside while he whispers a low ‘excuse me’ as he opens the nearest cabinet right above both of your heads. the closeness that came out of the blue between your body and his leaves you lightheaded. he knows, very well, and when he’s done, he reminds you to not hurt yourself when handling the peeler.

casually helps out with anything you’re struggling with.

 jamil’s observant and simultaneously befuddled. he’s just...helping you with the laundry? but, it was just a small stutter. how exactly could he catch onto you that quick?  nevertheless, he rather takes immense pleasure in the way you scratch the back of your head so bashfully when casually questioned of your inability to carry out such ordinary things. he titters, just a bit, when you compliment him back on how amazingly capable he is. please, don’t start acting any more like kalim now.

sternly calls for your name when you get distracted.

you mentally curse yourself out for neglecting such a trivial task of yours. whether you’re conversing with others, a little too heart-to-heart that you’re even starting to pay less mind to a particular someone, he’ll sternly call out your name, silently nodding his head towards the direction where you both were supposed to head to, blankness and impatience that swirls in the very same eyes that look your figure up and down. forget who you were talking to, you were running to him the next instant.

ROOK HUNT

insists you to rest your head on his shoulder.

your sleep schedule can be described as nothing other than disastrous—and for rook, is sorely distraught! please, work yourself no more, he needs you to take your beauty rest until he deems you ready for the day, priming you by telling you to lay your pretty little head on his shoulder. he doesn’t mind in the least, anything for his beloved, anything to see you sheepish by the sudden body contact.

is able to detect your lies and see right through you.

a hunter takes many things into account. a human’s scent, eye movements, and...body language. he stares at you, slit-eyed as his mouth curls into a mischievous curve. forget about lying, he adores the way your eyes direct to the ground beneath you. “oh, my beloved, don’t act so shy now.”  right, he isn’t the strange one here, is he? you yourself believe that it’s you, for thinking that such words that leave his mouth makes you weak in the knees.

gets captivated by your weirdest habits.

pour the milk before cereal first? liking ice cream only when it’s melted so you can drink it? rook is more than fascinated, much to your surprise (or not?). he heartens you, telling you about how you’re the apple of his eyes and how he’s so out-and-out allured to such new habits that catches his eyes. if you get too shy to carry out this so-called habit, he tells you once again that he would never be judgemental over things that are out of your control, and he finds you so, so beautiful. 

LILIA VANROUGE

teasingly licks his lips after kissing you.

‘to have a good taste’ is what he said. no, there’s no other hidden motives like wanting to see you flustered, is there? your bewildered gaze follows the tip of his tongue, cunningly sliding across his bottom lip, maintaining eye contact—maintaining and dominating it at that, your eyes being fidgety as it is. his sly front immediately breaks down when he can sense the heat rushing to your cheeks, you didn’t even realise it was there in the first place. can he...kiss you again to see him do it one more time?

quietly reassures you in stressful situations.

he’s a mixture of cheeky and serious when he does it. but no worries, such unruly animals can only act so brash before getting disciplined by its rightful owner. lilia tells you all sorts of quiet affirmations, squeezing your shoulders and mutters words of encouragement and that you’re a smart little one, are you not? now, don’t sully such an image that has so much concealed potential, show him that you’re way past being taken advantage of.

blows into your ear when you least expect it.

you let out a small gasp when you feel something, a tiny gust of wind brushing through the baby hairs of your ear. lilia only chuckles at such a lovable reaction, he doesn’t care about what you were previously doing in the least, he’ll run his hands up and down your arm, transmitting uncontrollable shivers that course through your body from head to toe. oh, he’s scheming to make sure to take out that flirtatious act so much more, the more you tell him not to do it, it only tugs the playful strings in his heart that makes him want to do it even more.

[pursuitseternal]

“Release Me:” ⛓️ Chains and feral smut ⛓️ for “The Rogue You Were”

Ascended Astarion x F!Reader |E| 2K

“Chains” prompt for Ascended Astarion Week

Summary: After weeks of captivity and starvation, you finally rescue your love from his enemies. But the beast chained in the cell barely knows himself or you… until you’ve satisfied all his hungers.

CW: Blood kink (I just wanted a reason to have them fuck covered in blood), Feral/primal play, desperate sex, long nailed AA, prison sex, bondage/mild BDSM

Ao3 link | Astarion Fic Masterlist

⛓️‍💥⛓️⛓️‍💥⛓️⛓️‍💥⛓️⛓️‍💥⛓️⛓️‍💥⛓️⛓️‍💥⛓️⛓️‍💥⛓️⛓️‍💥⛓️⛓️‍💥

Musty, dark, dead. The bowels of the Red Wizard’s tower are worse than a dungeon. Not a speck of light, no slight hint of breeze. It is a tomb. A coffin. And inside somewhere is your love.

You can feel him, his blood calling to you, even as his mind has unraveled these long weeks of capture. You get fleeting images of his senses: the wide-eyed fear in his chest to be imprisoned in the dark. Away from his beloved sun. The racing pant of his breath to be so enclosed, not unlike that year he never speaks of under Cazador’s torment. Locked away. You feel the stinging of silver chains gnawing at his flesh, burning just enough to sap his strength, but not so strong as to kill him.

This was meant for pain, constructed for punishment, to hold him until his enemies would kill him. Your beloved. Your lord and king and master, overthrown by his foolish need for more power. You told him not to go alone to seek the remnants of the Red Wizards of Thay… you warned him they would want their tome returned and would punish him for knowledge of it.

Even the decrepit remnants of a failed cult can win from time to time.

Your chest burns as you try to catch your breath, your skin and armor slick with the blood of your enemies. But your feet propel forward regardless, pulled by the tether of your bond to Astarion.

You heave a sigh of relief to finally find the cells, thick black doors almost indecipherable in the darkness. A little daylight spell, and your eyes adjust to find a dozen doors carved from the bedrock of this damnable tower. The rattling of metal links, the rough snarls of breath grows louder as you close your eyes and follow the ragged beat of his ascended heart.

Hand shaking, you pull out a Knock spell scroll, a sigh of relief that your own Wizard companion of old had prepared you to take on these foes. Even as your fingers stick to the parchment, hands soaked in blood, you recite the word, and the edge of the cell door glows bright white for a moment.

Resonant, it creaks open on its ancient hinges, revealing a pair of glowing red eyes and the crescendo of dry-throated breath. His body drags across the floor towards your daylight, and your heart bursts with ache to finally see him again. Tears sting your eyes.

Paperwhite and beyond deathly pale, his gaunt face leers at you from the darkness. Lines of red, of raw flesh cross his neck and bare arms and legs where he has been chained.

Chained naked.

Your bile rises in your stomach as you curse his captors souls, glad you have already put those Wizards to a bloody, eviscerating death. You’d do it all again, just to punish them for how they’ve tortured your love. Breathing his name, you enter his cell, the walls of black stone absorbing the light of your spell, it seems. But it gives off enough for you to see every line of his hollowed face, every crest of his bony frame.

Astarion twists against his chains, his mind a pulsing mess of feelings and words, too feral to even speak yet. But one word comes across clearly.

Blood.

His nostrils flare, his tongue dangling over his fangs as he scans your spattered armor. A predator with the scent of prey in his nose.

There’s blood in the air…

He’s too hungry, too starved for blood and for you to be safe. Not with they way his eyes are wild and his tongue laps at his jaw. “Astarion,” you speak, making his black-blown eyes focus on you. “I’m here my love,” you reach a hand out to caress his silver hair, but he just snaps his fangs at you once you're in reach. Those silver chains holding him just shy of disaster.

“Naughty,” you try to chide him, but the humor is lost on his hungry body and soul. Mind racing, your feet race faster, hands finding the closest fallen enemy to drag it back after you down the hall. Then you leave it, ignoring the muffled grunts and growls and slurps he makes as he drains the corpse completely.

When you glance back inside, he looks at you, steadier, calmer, and covered in blood. He still crouches on the ground, hands and feet and neck bound, but now he croaks your name. “Darling,” his voice pains you with recognition, “I knew you’d come.”

You hurry to his side, kicking that light, bloodless corpse to the side. The silver chains at his ankles sting you, but it’s nothing compared to the pain of separation you have endured for weeks. You pull the silver apart in your hands, freeing his legs so he can stretch them out at long last.

A deep grunt of relief sounds from his chest. Your hands work up and down one leg, then the other, trying to soothe the tension and numbness and blood flow.

As you reach the top of his thighs, you withdraw in surprise. His cock achingly hard, juts against his belly, twitching and pink and… happy to see you too.

“I have missed you,” his voice caresses your ear and rushes down your spine, the chains at his neck clinking their high-pitched music as he leans against you. Nose buried in your hair, he inhales your scent like a drowning man gasps for air. “I can’t wait another moment, my love.” His voice unearthly, barely more than a growl, his hands chained near his belly reach into your armor.

You notice his nails, literally clawing for you, seeking your flesh. Nails, so long unkempt, have taken on their wild form, the razor sharp talons of a vampire lord. “I was so worried…. I missed you, my love,” you sigh, an edge of fear in your belly as you long to kiss those bloodstained lips with your own. Ignoring the sting, you grab the silver chain, a little yank to tug at him, making a playful, aroused smirk turn his dripping, scarlet lips as his body draws closer.

“I am master of myself once more,” his brows cant rakishly, even in the dark. “I won’t bite unless you ask very… very… nicely,” he croons straining against your leash.

“Oh, I think you're asking for more than a nibble,” you tease to release some of the fear that still lingers in your veins. Never have you been separated from him since you turned, and never, not even during the Rite of Ascension and your fight against his old master have you feared his death more than these past weeks. Floodgates break, your need to touch him and taste him overpowering all logic and fear.

Your fingers work quickly, unlatching your breastplate and cuisses, eyes locked into his as he watches your every move, tongue licking the blood from the corner of his mouth absentmindedly. You let the metal clang to the floor. Those two restrained hands extend for you, making the chains around his arms hiss as the magic sears more into his flesh anew.

“Hold still,” you order, crouching to grab the chains and tug them free from his flesh, his wounds instantly closing up now that he is well-fed once more.

For all the pain that must be lancing through his body, he just holds your stare with his own, sultry and feral and commanding. “Now, where were we?” he purrs, hands trembling to finally touch your body. Even with sapped strength, he pulls you flush against him, bringing you close. Slotting you in your place against his body. Those blood-caked claws dig into the supple cover of your leathers, tearing through it at your hips and down the seams as though they are paper. You’ll worry about decency later, for now you’re of one mind, unable to think until you’ve joined again.

You sink your body onto his cock, and he sinks his fangs into your blood-spattered neck. Your groans bounce off the pitch black walls, a roar of bliss and relief and release. No more fear or danger, aside from the fear of coming too quickly and the danger of spending hours fucking once more, covered in the drying gore of your foes.

The thought tickles from your mind to his, and he laughs as he thrusts up into you. “Just like old times,” he rasps between swallows from your neck.

Like old times, like every time, your body follows its instincts, finally filled with what you have most craved. His cock stretches you, a nearly unfamiliar pressure once more, but you hardly notice, not with how dripping wet you’ve become just to feel his breath on your neck and savor his muscled frame thrusting into you.

Tears prick at your eyes but you won’t let them wash that blood from your cheeks. No, you just grip into his hair, pulling his mouth from the puncture wounds in your neck to your own waiting lips. The copper tang of your blood floods your mouth as his tongue sweeps inside, the familiar taste of your own blood mixing with the nasty pollution of your enemies’ he drained earlier.

It sours your stomach, the taste, but you’re too lost in the way his breath warms you, inside and out. Those long, feral nails score into your back, wandering quickly between your writhing bodies. With low, rumbling growls into your mouth, he grips your waist, moving you and holding you in place as he fucks harder. More erratic. More hellsbent on that release he needs.

His voice fills your ear, “My Consort, my love, my pet, my saviour,” he pours your beloved epithets over you, breath ragged and out of synch with his roughly snapping hips. One hand lies splayed on the stone behind him, that extra leverage driving him deeper with abandon. He’s thickening inside you, so hot and too quickly.

“Don’t get carried away,” you chide, yanking at the chain around his neck, making his crimson eyes stare at you with lust-blown pupils. “You haven’t even given me a reward yet for my daring bravery, my love.” You make him hiss, his slack mouth baring his fangs in pleasure-ridden pain. “And you haven’t even granted me an apology for running headlong into this… foolishness,” you cock your chin and tug his chain-leash again. “Promise me, no more ludicrous missions without me.”

He growls but nods, hands digging at your ass, not one hint of resistance.

“Then I’m satisfied, well…” you wriggle, clenching your walls on his throbbing cock inside you, “soon to be satisfied.” A laugh shared on both your panting lips, you ride his lap, bringing him back under a steady rhythm, drawing out his pleasure until you’ve had yours as well. He pulls against his last remaining chain, and you tut your tongue. One of your hands brings his fingers into the apex of your thighs, coaxing his finger to circle your clit with every buck. Your other hand releases that leash, freeing it from his flesh at last so you can grab his chin. Then you lick… long and cleansing, tasting the remnants of your blood, and your enemies’, and faint traces of his own.

That warm tip of his tongue laps at the corner of his lips, his breath heavy as he feels your walls fluttering around his cock. Spine arching, hips canting fervently, you scream for him, tears in your throat and down your face at last, as if you didn’t believe you’d ever be brought to orgasm by him again. Sharp nails score into the sensitive flesh of your folds, hips slamming into your last waves of pleasure as he spills inside you, spurt after spurt of his seed filling you and leaking to the prison floor beneath you both.

Crimson eyes glance up at you, wild and sated, hungry and happy all at once. “Get me home, my Consort,” he whispers. “You’ll be coming on my cock in our bed next.”

You smirk, breathless, pulling out a scroll to open a portal to your palace. As you stand, you kick the chains at your feet with your boot, thankful he’s released into your care once more.

⛓️⛓️⛓️⛓️⛓️⛓️⛓️⛓️⛓️⛓️⛓️⛓️⛓️⛓️⛓️⛓️⛓️

💞 to @marimosalad and @nyx-knox

[amarynthian-chronicles]

Equivalent Value

Sebastian Solace x Reader

(warning: suggestive themes)

"Come on, Seb, don't be like that. Please?"

"No."

"Pretty please?"

He reached to place a clawed finger under your chin, tilting his head and grinning, narrowing his eyes.

"You are lovely when you beg. My answer remains negative."

"You are a jerk."

"A merchant's honour is very important, little light. As much as I enjoy your charming pleas, I cannot go against my own rules. You need to offer me something of equivalent or approximate value. And your sweet "pretty please" is not going to cut it."

He was taunting you, relishing the power that your despair offered. Perhaps your own pain was a soothing balm to calm his own wretchedness. It was more tolerable to listen to the shrieks of others than one's own, after all.

Still, you refused his answer. You frowned, crossing your arms over your chest.

"It is becoming insanely difficult to scavenge things and I am just trying to survive at this point. If you want to keep your favourite toy in a functional state, that will require some concessions on your end. Can you please make an exception this time? I am desperate here."

Sebastian could not deny the logic of your statement. You had never allowed yourself to be placed in such a position, and perhaps your claims of not having any research files to bargain with were truthful.

Magnificent. He could make you dance to his music.

He leaned closer, his lips brushing against yours, cruel words dripping like poisonous honey from them.

"How desperate are you, my wayward light?"

Mind games with monsters were a dangerous thing and you would normally do your best to win. However, this time you did not have any advantage and you simply wished to get the needed supplies. You sighed.

"What do you want?"

"The most precious thing you could offer to a starving man in this very moment."

You did not stop him when his strong arms snaked around your waist, engulfing and capturing you. You were his prize, the most valuable type of treasure he could acquire. His ally, his accomplice, sharing his secrets.

You were well aware that he wanted you, your mind, body, and soul. Whether you wished to admit it or not, you yourself were the most powerful card you had against him.

"I hereby offer myself. It is all I have. Will this suffice?"

To your surprise, he gently reached for your hand, kissing it in a gentlemanly manner.

"The payment is more than acceptable."

You blinked in confusion at the sudden change of demeanour. Yes, the feral desire was still there, but his actions were now coupled with a certain tenderness that bordered on worship.

Sebastian took his sweet time, placing many gentle kisses along your hand, then upon each finger. His teeth grazed slowly along your wrist. Your cheeks were burning.

"Oh, my."

"My blessing, my little light, sweet salvation. For years, I had remained here, condemned, left to rot in this oceanic prison. And yet, an angel has been sent to me, tormenting me, mocking me with their warmth, their hope. I shall feast, I shall drink that nectar."

"You send such mixed signals, you know?"

"To keep you guessing, of course."

"Bastard."

His lips claimed yours, eager, showing his claim. Your softness drove him mad, his long tongue reaching to explore the warm and welcoming cavern of your mouth. You made little muffled squeaks, surprised at the sudden surge of passion. Even more so at the length of his rather dexterous tongue that was exploring with pure abandon.

Sebastian decided to savour the moment, gliding his claws along your sides, grinning as he felt you shudder under his touch. Such softness. He had been deprived of the pleasures of simple touch and affection for so long.

Deciding that he should grant you the mercy of allowing you to breathe once more, he released you from the kiss. He nuzzled the soft silken skin under your neck, allowing your warmth to comfort him. Your pulse, your beating heart, a symphony only for him to enjoy.

Sebastian had to gather some control over himself, resisting the need to claim you in that very moment. No, he wished to slowly unwrap his present and enjoy each part of the payment that had been offered. Still, his three hands could not help themselves, fondling and scratching, teasing you all over. You were still gasping for breath, holding onto him.

"Seb..."

"I am busy, darling."

"Don't tear the fabric, I don't have a whole closet of clothing, you know."

"Worry not, I shan't disrobe you just yet. Your payment will be in several installments. This is merely the first one. As for the garments, I can procure you whatever you wish."

"Good thing you didn't print a receipt, while you are at it."

Strong hands kept massaging and squeezing your sides and hips, earning your sweet hums and moans as a reward. You relaxed in his hold, leaning your head on his chest, closing your eyes.

"A little to the right, upwards. My back has been killing me for days, this is wonderful. You should be a masseuse, Seb. Three arms work magic."

He laughed gently at your nonsense, resting his chin on your soft head.

"Of course, my dear light."

[moirindeclermont]

5+ things I love about Colin Bridgerton

(feel free to add your own if you want).

This will also be very horny, sorry but my mind is costantly in the gutter these days.

1) He is a man of unhinged action. This man, once he realized that he loved Pen, wasted exactly 0 moment before sending propriety so far away it wasn't even mentioned and then proceed to anhilate any obstacle on his road. He wanted Pen, no one (beside Pen) could make him come back from it.

2) He loves watching Pen experiencing pleasure. Everytime they are intimate he can't stop watching her. He gets off so much from it, he just can't help himself. He make sure she gets the best experience possible because it means so much for him.

3) King of consent. One of the sexiest thing to ever grace this earth, the way he is costantly comunicate, asking before doing something, giving Pen choice and agency, listen to her feedback both verbal and non verbal. Colin Bridgerton the man you are.

4) Demisexual king. This man wants connection and intimacy. Yes, he has sex with the sex workers, but his heart is not in the moment and as soon as he discover what is that's missing, even his body is not in it anymore. He just needs that pull you can only have when you're fully involved with another person.

5) He takes accountability for his mistakes. He says things he doesn't mean and he makes mistakes, but he also take action and actually improve and grows because of it. He learns that to be a good partner he just have to support and stand by Pen's side, no need to chance because Pen just loves him as he is.

6) He feels so much. As someone who also feels so much (as it is Pen) it is endearing and nice to watch someone going from the depth of despair to the highest of high. Sometimes it's just like that, and when you feel so much it's bound to have some drama moments.

7) He is a gentle!Dom in disguise. He just loves to guide Pen through the experience of intimacy, but he can't resist a nice places "lie down" that still makes my knees weak. You know there will be many first in which he will guide Pen in a similar way.

This man has capture my heart and soul. It's been weeks but I can't stop thinking about him and all of the things that makes him the softest boy with a strong backbone, my personal favorite combination. This man just wants to be loved and, luckily, he found his match in Pen. They could never make me hate you, Colin Bridgerton.

I'll do a 5+ things about characters, scenes, ships... Ask your own (about Bridgerton, IWTV, SPN or Buffy)