#now that I know it's fully consensual and they are just playing I can appreciate it (tho it became clear at the dirty talk part anyways)

[scarefox]

[thedreamlessnights]

Since requests are open, here's my suggestion: I recently revisited my old mythology book and found one of the myths about aphrodite bathing in a lake and blinds some pervs that sneaked up to watch her. Now, the reader might not have the powers of a goddess but you know what she does have? A dagger-happy vampire boyfriend more than willing to shank unwanted peeping toms (in his defense, he actually asked if he could be there, so no harm done here). Idk, I just like the idea of the reader having scary dog privileges and Astarion not minding looking menacing/scary while doing so

Thank you so, so much for this request, anon. It's an absolutely incredible concept, and it fits Astarion so well! I had such a fun time writing it, and I really hope you enjoy the result!

For Your Eyes Only

Astarion x F!Reader - NSFW

Content warnings: Mentions of brief, non-consensual voyeurism. Somewhat graphic violence, as well as mentions of blood, degrading terms, and the description of an injury and death. Explicit sexual content, including: oral sex (receiving), penetrative sex, fingering, multiple orgasms, blood drinking, and ear play. Tags: Takes place post-Cazador, some point in Act 3. Includes mild spoilers. Established relationship, a bit of emotional hurt/comfort, and tender smut.

Word Count: 5.8k

After the darkness and chill of the Shadowlands, the heat in the city feels suffocating.

You missed the warmth dearly back then, trudging through despair and gloom, thinking of nothing but the inevitable relief of the city. Your bones always ached something awful in that foul place, never warm enough to ward away the icy air. Now, though, it occurs to you that you hadn’t fully appreciated the cold when you had it. 

The sun that streams down from the skies is blistering - scorching, even - and without reprieve or relief. Sweat courses down your neck, soaking the collar of your shirt. Your socks are damp inside your boots, and where the leather meets your calves, they’re chafing. 

Gods, what you wouldn’t give for a bit of that chill again. Even with the achy bones.

What’s worse is the mud, somehow. One would think that Baldur’s Gate would be scarce on its share of the stuff, but it’s everywhere. Tracked up from Rivington, puddling in the streets, clinging to the bottom of boots.

Granted, your boots have seen more than their fair share of mud since the nautiloid: sticky, wet, warm. It’s seeped into socks and splattered across new armor, stained some of your favorite nightwear. Sometimes, when you’ve finally settled down for dinner, you’ve been able to taste it. No amount of scrubbing rids you of the earthy, bitter taste for long. 

The mud in front of you is different, though. By all accounts, the heat should have baked everything at least somewhat dry, but this puddle remains. If it can even be called a puddle, really. The gloppy, wet mess looks more like a pond, and completely blocks the only path ahead. Even the edges of it remain entirely liquid. If you didn’t know better, you’d think it’d just rained.

A quick glance at your map confirms what you’d feared; this is the only nearby route to your destination. You’re on the outskirts of the city. Rock walls line either side of the path, too steep to climb. You know for a fact that Shadowheart had recently used your last Potion of Flying. Either you lose hours of progress to get Gale from camp so you can cross, or you’ll have to proceed through this stupid pond.

Astarion watches you eye the mess with a dramatic flick of his wrist. “Oh, by all means, darling, you go first!” he exclaims, raising a brow. “It won’t be me jumping in that slop.”

Karlach frowns at the mud’s appearance, tapping the toe of her boot against the surface. It ripples at the movement, brown waves gently sloshing against the surface of the nearby stone. “Can’t be that deep, right?”

“I don’t know,” you reply. You’re aching for a stick or loose branch, something to measure it, but there’s nothing around. Just grass and stone, the scalding sun on the back of your neck, and the muddy pond directly in the middle of the path. 

“I say we go back,” Shadowheart urges. “I don’t know about any of you, but I’m not keen on dirtying myself.”

“We’d have to backtrack through hours of traveling,” you point out. “There’s no other way forward. I’ve checked the map.”

“Fine,” she relents, crossing her arms across her chest. “You go first, and we’ll follow behind you. Once we’ve seen it’s safe, that is.”

And, hells, you do not want to step foot in there. Not one bit. Still, do you have much of a choice? Your feet are already aching from the day’s walk. It would be devastating to lose all your progress. So, no - you really don’t have a choice, not if you want to get those Netherstones and stop the Absolute in time. The quakes in the city have only been getting worse.

“Alright,” you finally reply, your voice stronger than you feel. 

You step forward, pressing your right boot against the mud, then apply your weight. Your heel breaks the surface with a terrifying rush of movement, and your leg instantly slides down into the muck - much deeper than you’d thought, deeper than it should be. When your foot hits the bottom, sticky, cold mud splatters up, painting your shirt, neck, and parts of your face. 

Suddenly, the day isn’t quite so warm.

When you finally muster the courage to look down, your right leg is submerged up to the knee, soaking through your trousers. You can practically hear the sick squelch of it making its way into your socks, squishing between your toes.

“Urgh,” you mutter, wrinkling your nose as you attempt to pull your leg up. “Disgusting.” But it won’t budge. In fact, your squirming seems to be making you sink down even further. You try to shift your weight, but your balance is uneven with one leg in and one leg out. You’re dangerously close to losing your footing, and every bit you struggle threatens to tilt you face-first into the makeshift mud pond. In a prime moment of idiocy, you plant your other foot in the mud for support, and find your bottom half completely unable to move.

“What a brilliant idea,” Shadowheart says. “Now you’re stuck.”

“Thank you, Shadowheart,” you grit out, sweat dripping down your neck as you attempt to twist yourself around. “I had no idea!”

Karlach steps behind you, laughing a little. “Come on. Up you go, soldier,” she says, leveraging her arms under yours and giving a quick tug. You’re expecting the mud to release you, but it doesn’t. Your legs don’t budge - not even an inch. 

“What in the…?” she mutters, giving another pull. This one has more force behind it; when she tries to haul you up, white-hot pain sears up through your ribs, ripping an agonized cry from your lips. No matter how hard she yanks, the mud’s grip only tightens around you. It’s beginning to feel like you’re a brittle piece of rope in a vicious game of tug-of-war. 

“Shit! I’m sorry!” she exclaims. “So, so, sorry!”

“What are you doing?” Astarion asks, his voice suddenly sharp. “You’re hurting her! Put her down!”

“So she can get sucked further into the mud?” Shadowheart asks. Her voice is lined with fear now, which is scaring you more than anything else about this miserable situation. “We have to get her out!”

But it quickly becomes clear that no matter how hard Karlach pulls, it’s useless. Every yank is agony, and you only sink further and further. Tears stream down your cheeks from the pain, and your spine feels like it’s gained a good two inches from being stretched, but still nothing. No give at all.

Eventually, Karlach lets you go. Your body plops down in relief, but the mud is somehow deeper than it was before. It’s up to the bottom of your ribs now. 

“Fuck me,” she pants, wiping her forehead. “What should we do?”

“How should I know?” Astarion’s face is drawn, more pallid than usual. His lips are pinched into a line. He should be telling you I told you so, making jokes - and you know he would be, if he were anything but absolutely terrified. Your panic is bad enough with the heaviness of the mud on your chest and lower body, but the look on his face? That tells you it’s even worse than it feels.

 “Step back,” Shadowheart instructs quietly. “I have an idea.” 

Once the two of them are out of the way, she steps forward. Stretching out her hands, she mutters an incantation into the air. In seconds, the slight chill of the mud surrounding you becomes sharp, painful ice that burns against every exposed inch of skin it touches. A very muddy shade of ice, but ice all the same. 

Karlach’s axe crashes through the surface and it shatters, breaking around you. After another hit and a moment of digging, she finally has you out: freezing, still covered in mud, and very sore - but alive.

“Thank you,” you manage, choking out the words between your shivering.

“Never say I didn’t do anything for you,” Shadowheart says, smiling a little. She lets out a breath of relief, the tension bleeding from her shoulders. “Now. Turning around, are we?”

By the time you get back to camp, you’re the most uncomfortable you’ve ever been in your life. You’re wet and cold and exhausted, caked with dried mud that pulls at your skin when you move. It’s in your hair, on your face, and in your shoes, squelching with every step. The feeling makes you want to crawl out of your skin. Your ribs are sore and achy, and - on top of all of that - you’ve lost a good day’s worth of travel. 

The only thing you want is to fall into Astarion’s arms, but he wrinkles his nose when you come near, holding out a finger to stop you. “Oh, no you don't,” he says. “Bath first. Then you can talk to me, darling.”

It seems no amount of persuasion is going to change his mind, so you head back to your tent and grab a number of supplies - soap, sponges, a towel, and a change of clothes. Your trusty knife for protection. The river is bound to be freezing, but it’s better than sponging yourself down and hoping for the best. 

Thank the gods you’d found a decent pair of boots in an abandoned house today, because the ones that are currently plastered to your feet will take days to dry out, even in the hot sun. When you get to the nearby river, you don’t even bother to take them off before you plunge them into icy water, sufficiently drenching them until you can furiously loosen the mud enough to slip them off and toss them onto the riverbank.

The rest of your clothing gets the same treatment: the trousers which slowly pull away from your skin, the shirt that’s splattered with mud and covered in it up to the waist. Your hair will no doubt be a disaster, too. 

You’re still sitting in the soaking-wet clothes when you hear the sound of a twig snapping behind you. Your hand instantly grabs for your knife, ready to throw it at whatever threat might be in the woods as your eyes sweep along the trees. 

Nothing. You find nothing.

“Darling,” comes Astarion’s voice. He slips out from the shadows, immaculately clean, gazing down at the weapon in your hand with a lifted brow. “Planning to render me dead twice-over?”

“You scared the living hells out of me, Astarion!” you snap, sucking in a shaky breath. The blade drops from your loosened fingers, softly thumping against the dirt. “What are you doing out here?” 

He steps closer, taking a seat on a nearby log. “You were taking ages to get clean,” he whines, sprawling out his legs in front of him. “And, unfortunately, our companions haven’t had an argument all night. How else am I meant to entertain myself? So here I am. Trudging through the woods for your company.”

“You could give me a warning next time,” you reply, still a little jarred. “I thought you were someone hoping to catch an eyeful.”

A smirk flickers across his lips. “Oh, but I am,” he says. “Do you mind terribly?”

Against your will, your cheeks heat, and his smile widens. “I don’t mind,” you say. “Not if you behave, that is. Hands to yourself.” 

“I’ll be on my very best behavior,” he promises. Leaning forward, he prods your boots, wrinkling his nose at the sight. “Gods below. Those disgusting things should be burned.”

“I have an extra pair.” You move to tug your shirt off, but it’s clinging to you. “Gods damn that stupid mud pile. I should have asked Gale to use a cleaning spell.”

“Oh, please,” Astarion says. “He’s been sulking in his tent all evening. Apparently, being asked to blow yourself up by an old flame doesn’t do much in the way of socializing.”

The shirt finally pulls free, and it’s clear that your smallclothes have received the same treatment as the rest of your garments. Gods, you really should have asked for that cleaning spell. This mud is going to take ages to get out.

“Hand that here,” Astarion says, motioning for your shirt. You toss it to him, and he inspects it closely before setting aside.

“What?” you ask. “What were you looking for?”

“Oh, darling, nothing,” he says. “That’s my ‘to be burned’ pile. We’ll get you a new one.”

You’d argue, but you aren’t very attached to your current outfit - and besides, after weeks of trekking through wilderness and Shadowlands alike, it’s falling apart even without the mud. 

“Do what you want with it,” you grumble, finally pulling off your smallclothes. “That shirt was barely surviving anyway.”

You glance over your shoulder and find him observing with a raised brow, slowly taking the sight of you in. You must look like a mess, but you’d never know it from the glint in the eye, or the complacent smile that plays upon his lips. Heat stirs low in your belly, simmering under your skin. Later, you tell yourself. When you aren’t covered in filth.

You lather up the soap on your sponge, scrubbing away the mud the best you can, but the damned stuff takes ages to get off. By the time you’re finally clean, the silvery moon is high in the sky, and your skin is beginning to prune.

Astarion makes a small comment or two, but mostly seems content to watch you in silence. His gaze burns over every inch of exposed skin, leaving phantom heat wherever it stalls. All you want is to get out of this damned river and touch him, but you’re determined to get every bit of the mud off before you do, and it’s taking much longer than you’d hoped.

When you’re finally presentable, you start on cleaning your filthy smallclothes. The soap is slippery, making it difficult to do much scrubbing, and the water alone is doing hardly anything. 

Astarion watches you struggling, huffing as you nearly drop the soap bar in the river. After a moment, he lets out an exasperated sigh. “Dearest, you do realize that it would be much easier if you-”

But his words suddenly cut off. His head snaps toward the woods, and every nerve in your body burns with fear. In the span of seconds, he’s lunged forward, grabbed your knife, and darted after the sound. 

Not a moment later, there’s a loud crash - some form of impact as he tackles whatever it was that he heard. You instantly push yourself out of the water without thinking, numb, your heart pounding in your chest as you stumble into the forest after him. It only takes a few steps in before you see it: a man on the ground, Astarion’s knife to his throat.

Your stomach churns, and your skin prickles in the air’s chill. How much had he seen? How long had he been standing there?

Astarion is shouting something at him, and the stranger is struggling against his hold, but it’s useless. He’s a scrawny, weak little thing, no match for Astarion’s lithe, nimble strength. No amount of twisting or fighting dislodges Astarion’s grip. After a moment, he finally gives up, cackling like an old hag as his head plops down against the dirt.

“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t kill you here and now,” Astarion hisses, anger contorting his features.

In response, the man spits in his face. “She’s your bitch, is she?” he croaks. “You can take a turn after I’m done with her.”

Astarion snarls in response, gripping the man’s collar and pressing the blade deeper into the skin until it draws blood. 

“Wait,” you call, stepping closer. “Don’t.”

Astarion blinks in disbelief, sitting up, careful to keep his weight on the stranger underneath. “My love, you can’t be serious,” he says. “You want to spare this-”

“Spare?” you echo, cutting off his words. “Who said anything about sparing him?” 

Something glints in his gaze as he takes in your words. “Darling,” he drawls, his tone admirational. “By all means.”

He hands you the knife, and you kneel down next to him. It’s heavy in your hand, cold and smooth as you run your finger over the flat edge of the blade. You stare at the shimmer of it for a moment, entranced, somehow calm in the midst of this chaos. Then you slam the bottom of the hilt into the man’s nose.

There’s a sickening crunch before he screams, blood streaming over his mouth and spilling down his chin. Even after last night’s feeding, Astarion tenses up at the smell of it, but the curl of his lip tells you that he won’t be drinking from this piece of absolute refuse.

When the stranger reaches over and grabs at your arm, you almost don’t even realize - you’re so caught up in your own mind, in the weight of the knife in your hand. Then his nails dig into your skin, and everything hits you at once.

The freezing night air. The stinging, throbbing pain that flares through your skin as he claws at you, unable to do much more. The feel of Astarion’s hand, gentle but firm, prying the knife from your grip. It happens before you can even react - a swift slice of the blade, slitting the man’s throat. Dark blood, gushing from the wound and onto the dirt below.

For a moment, there is nothing but the sound of your breathing. Sharp but shallow, straining in your chest. Jagged air that flows in and out, but it does nothing to stop the increasing amount of black in your vision. 

You’ve fought and killed more people than you can count so… why does this feel different? Why here, why now? You’ve nearly died before, so why does the scrape on your arm feel like it’s much more than that?

Then Astarion’s hands envelop your cheeks, blissfully cool, and the panic and pain seep out all at once.

“Darling,” he’s saying, half-breathless, “are you alright?”

You manage to nod, and some of the concern leaves his eyes. He runs his fingers over the scrape on your arm, and you wince. “We need to get you patched up,” he murmurs, his brows pinching together.

“Don’t take me to Shadowheart,” you choke out. She’s already done you enough favors, and you won’t be able to stand her disapproving gaze if you disturb her rest after today’s fiasco.

He huffs. “Stubborn little thing,” he mutters, but he doesn’t argue. 

Instead, he heads back to your supplies by the river. When he returns, he wraps a towel over your shoulders, and it’s only then that you realize you’re naked. Completely, utterly naked. It had been bold of you to break that bastard’s nose in the nude, but… well, it hadn’t been your intention.

He’s dead now, though. He’ll never look at you again.

Astarion sweeps you up into his arms and carries you out of the woods along with your clean change of clothes, holding you tight against his chest and leaving your soiled clothing behind. 

You can’t find it in you to care at the moment. You’ve scrounged up plenty of clothing along the journey; those torn, stained things won’t be missed. Not to mention, if you ever need more, Astarion will gladly steal you some new ones.

He takes you to your tent, and you’re grateful to see that everyone else has turned in for the night. Anyone awake to see you would inevitably have questions, and this only affirms your decision to avoid Shadowheart - if you woke her up to heal a minor scrape on your arm, she’d be seething. 

And though she’d undoubtedly be sympathetic after hearing the cause, you don’t think you can muster up the words to tell her what’d happened.

After he’s carefully set you down on your bedroll, Astarion yanks the flap of your tent closed and reaches for your pack, digging through the contents until he’s found some bandages. His grip is gentle as he takes your arm and swipes some remnants of a healing potion over it. You’ve been through this dozens of times, but you can never seem to shake the urge to wince as it sets in - the potion stings just a bit before it soothes, a sharp tingling that fades into a sweet, balming relief. 

You’ve calmed down some, warming up in your tent with him, but Astarion’s hands are shaking as he wraps the wound. His brows are pinched together, his swallows are thick and strained, and he can’t seem to meet your eyes, even when he’s done bandaging you up.

“Astarion,” you murmur. “He’s dead.”

He stills in place, jaw clenching as he inhales sharply, still not meeting your gaze. Instead, he glowers down at the tent’s floor, his hands balling into fists. “He deserved so much worse than that,” he snaps. 

You don’t argue with him. Instead, you let him fuss over you, taking the time to smooth through your wet hair, plucking out remaining leaves and twigs from the woods. He gets you into a warm, fluffy robe - only the gods know where he’d managed to find something like that - then pulls you close, his thumb stroking over your cheek. You rest your head against his chest and close your eyes, listening to the soft sounds of his body working under his skin. No heartbeat, of course, just the quiet churn of his movements, the rise and fall of his ribs that’s become habit to him. 

After a moment, he takes your face in his hands, just as he had in the woods - but when you meet his gaze, there’s a sharp intensity in his eyes rather than fear. He takes you in little by little, tilting your head up to brush his fingers over the fading marks on your neck. 

Then he leans in, and you catch the smell of him you know so well, lingering on his skin like soap. Bergamot, rosemary, brandy. It’s what you associate most with him, that sweet, sharp scent that bathes over you. When his lips finally meet yours, the kiss is rough and desperate, heated and aching. His fangs scrape over your lip, grazing the delicate skin but not breaking it. His tongue slides into your mouth, and his hand returns to the back of your neck, tightening his grip.

One of your hands fix into his shirt as you lean into him, nipping at his lip. You shift your free hand up into his hair, tousling through the soft, silky curls before gently tugging. He groans and pulls you closer, and - gods, it’s incredible. Warmth drags down your spine like a hot coal, searing and addictive. You squirm a little in his grasp, shifting until you’re straddling his hips, and he pulls away to kiss down your jaw, murmuring soft words into the skin.

When he gets to your chest, you let him untie the robe and spread his hands underneath, peeling the fabric off your shoulders, fingers slowly warming as they trail down your back. His hands settle on your waist as he kisses you again, mouth soft against yours.

Gods, you need him. You’re already soaked, and he’s barely even touched you.

You can feel him hardening underneath you, his movements growing desperate, his breathing labored. You grind your hips against him and he lets out a strained noise against your lips, shuddering. He pulls away, examining your expression as he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. 

The movement is tender and incredibly sweet, but you’re hardly patient. You’ve been wanting him ever since he sat on that log in the forest, gaze roaming over every inch of you. You let out a soft whine, attempting to tug off his shirt. He does absolutely nothing to help you.

“Astarion,” you breathe. “Please.”

“Hm? Did you want something, darling?” he asks, the desire in his voice betraying his otherwise casual tone.

“I want you,” you tell him, rolling your hips again in search of the friction you so desperately need. “Please. I want you.”

“Easy, love. You have me,” he replies, brushing his thumb against your lips. Your heart swells with a fondness that would threaten to make you cry if you weren’t so ridiculously needy.

And finally, thank the gods, he takes off his godsdamned shirt.

You run a hand up his shoulder, then into his hair. You’d once thought that he was using a special shampoo - his hair was so soft, it seemed the only explanation. Then you’d seen him with the same shampoo you were using, and you’d practically wept with envy over his ridiculously perfect genes. Even now, as you run your hands through the silk-soft curls, you don’t understand it. 

Then you trace up the line of his ear, and he shudders, leaning into your touch. When you gently massage the tip of his helix, he lets out a soft, seeking noise and his eyes flutter shut. Hells, you swear that you can feel him growing even harder beneath you. Another roll of your hips and his eyes slowly open again, half-lidded and glazed with desire. His hands firmly grip your waist, and there’s the briefest sensation of falling as he rolls you back onto your bedroll, tucking the pillow under your head.

He kisses along your clavicle, nosing down your ribs, humming against your skin. Feather-light brushes of his lips meet your ribs, then your breast, pausing to swipe his tongue over your nipple before he proceeds downward. When he arrives at your navel, your legs automatically spread open for him, and he lets out a hum of approval. He takes a leg in his hand and kisses up the thigh, warm, sharp kisses that trail up to the place you want him most.

He starts off slowly - a long lick over your clit, a quick swipe of his tongue before he settles between your legs, propping your thigh over his shoulder and starting a maddening rhythm. After all this time, you really should know how much pleasure to expect - but after everything, after his confession in the Shadowlands and the fear with Cazador, this still feels… new.

And Astarion is very, very good at what he does. He seems to know exactly what you want before you do, before your mind can put it into tangible thought, and before your body can even search for it. He works a finger into you, then two, and you’re left gasping and squirming as he sets an agonizingly slow pace. After a moment, he speeds up, just where you want him, perfect, perfect-

And then he pulls away, and the look on his face practically shouts that he knows exactly what he’s doing to you. Of course he does. He’s always been a tease. His fingers continue their work, languidly dragging in and out of you as he speaks.

“You know,” he says, pressing a kiss to your thigh, “back at the river, this was all I could think about. Getting my mouth on you. Watching you come apart piece by piece.”

Gods, he’s been direct before, but never that direct. Frankly, you’re surprised you don’t come then and there. Instead, you clench hard around his fingers and whimper, rolling your hips in time with his movements.

“Astarion,” you pant, unable to coax your mind into forming a coherent reply. “Gods, Astarion.”

He hums in response, flashing you a wicked grin. “That’s it, darling,” he encourages, shifting his fingers until they’re brushing against a spot that makes your vision black out. “Say my name. Let everyone hear you.”

You manage a laugh that quickly fades into a soft moan. “The entire camp will kill me if I wake them up.”

He nips at your thigh. “Let them try,” he muses. “They’ll have to get through me.”

He lowers his mouth between your legs again, and your head falls back against the pillow. It’s an embarrassingly short time before your muscles start to tense up, wiring you with pleasure from head to toe. One of your hands fixes in his hair, pulling tightly as white-hot pleasure sparks through your abdomen, and oh, gods, you’re coming-

Your vision cuts out again. Your mind fuzzes over, drunk with pleasure, leaving you shuddering, clenching around his fingers, moaning into your free hand. 

You know he’d prefer to hear you, but if you actually disturb any of the others, you’ll die of embarrassment. One day, the two of you will have your own house with a real bed, and you’ll be as loud as you want. For now, you muffle your cries into your fingers and tremble through your climax.

Your body floats weightlessly for a moment in what must be Elysium, until you finally rejoin yourself and find your limbs heavy and uncoordinated. Astarion huffs, placing a final kiss on you until he crawls upward, kissing up your chest again. 

He’s still holding himself back - you can see it in the way he moves, in the tension of his muscles and the coil of his shoulders. There’s a fire in his eyes, a hunger that you recognize so well. When he reaches your neck, you instinctively tilt your head, allowing him access to his usual spot. 

For a moment, he hesitates, his warm breath fanning over the skin as your pulse hammers in your throat. Then he groans, grinding himself into your leg as he bites down, chasing his pleasure against your thigh as your blood spills into his mouth.

You know this routine so very well by now. The sting of the bite, and the numbness that follows. The ebb and flow of your blood, filling his mouth. The slight dizziness that comes before he pulls away, swiping his tongue over the bite for one final taste.

“Gods,” he pants, gripping your shoulder. Then, to your utter disappointment and confusion, he pulls away. “Wait here, my sweet. I need to - I’ll be right back. I promise.”

And before you can protest, he’s scrambling out the tent. For a long, numb moment, you stare at the tent opening, wondering if you’re dreaming. The silence of the tent grates on your ears, echoing the sound of your breathing until you can barely stand it. Then he’s pushing inside again, a scroll in hand as he closes the tent.

“Do I want to know what that is?” you ask.

“A scroll of Silence, darling. I’ve been saving it.” He flashes you a grin, murmuring the incantation as the scroll shimmers in his hand. Pure Weave, confined into parchment. 

You don’t hear the spell take effect, but you feel it. It’s a thickness in the air, a heaviness in your movements. 

Astarion doesn’t waste another second. He pushes up to kiss you, and it’s messy - your tongue against his, the sting of sharp teeth, your hand in his hair and his hand on the nape of your neck. There’s the taste of metal and herbs: your blood mixed with the remnants of a healing potion. He spreads your legs with his knee, then sits back on his heels and reaches down to undo his trousers.

You study him for a moment. The crease of his brow. The alabaster of his skin, sculpted out like a statue from marble. 

If you were an artist, you’d make him your life’s work. You’d chip out his every feature little by little, painstakingly working away at the stone to define the look in his eyes when he tells you he loves you. You’d spend ages carving every wrinkle, every line, every perfect imperfection. The touch of it would be cold, like him, but it could never compare to how he looks as he settles over you, eyes blown dark with desire. 

He inches closer, still on his knees, and takes hold of your thighs, lifting them up to meet his hips before gently easing inside of you. He lets out a sharp exhale as he slowly presses deeper, his grip shifting to your waist.

Nothing could compare to the way it feels as he fills you up inch by inch, murmuring praise, telling you how beautiful you are for him. “Darling,” he bites out, gritting his teeth at the pleasure. “If anyone ever tries anything like that with you again, I’ll tear them to shreds.”

You laugh a little, breathless, delirious in the delicious stretch of him inside you. “I won’t stop you. I just might ask to break their nose first.”

He shakes his head, but a small smile plays on his lips before he straightens and starts his rhythm. Slow, even thrusts that leave you grasping at the blankets beneath you, trying to steady yourself in the waves of sensation. He stares down at you, half-drunk on your blood, lips parted and his cheeks flushed.

“You feel incredible,” he breathes. “Gods. You’re incredible.”

Your eyes don’t quite know where to land. They never do. Now, they flutter over his abdomen, taking in the sight of the muscles that ripple and contract with the rolling of his hips. The droplets of sweat that slowly build on his skin, glimmering like crystals. 

His jaw clenches, and his pace starts to quicken, and the feeling of him inside of your aching cunt is just so godsdamned good. His cock stretches you out like it was made for you, and soon your lungs are hardly filling with air. You can’t think, and you can scarcely breathe. All you know is that you’re not going to last much longer.

You tug at the blankets and shut your eyes, and he lets out another soft, aching noise as he thrusts deeper, faster, filling you up, the slick sound of your arousal echoing through the tent and mixing with the heaving of your breaths. You clench around him and he groans, shifting the angle of your hips, rhythm frantic.

“That’s it,” he pants. “Come for me, darling.”

And you do. Your body clenches around him as you cry out, back arching, pleasure overtaking every thought but one: Astarion. Astarion, Astarion, Astarion. Your breaths scrape shallowly through your chest and ecstasy burns through every inch of you, every nerve - until you feel paralyzed. Content, thoroughly fucked and sated, but paralyzed.

 You’ve just started to come back to your senses when Astarion follows you over the edge, a moan tumbling from his lips that sounds remarkably like your name. His hips thrust a few more times, chasing after his pleasure, clumsy movements that slow to a halt as he shuts his eyes. He shudders, then slackens, carefully pulling out of you before he wraps his hands around your thighs and gently lowers them back to the bedroll.

You can barely move, still lost in the aftershocks of pleasure as he cleans you up, smoothing the hair out of your face as he lays next to you.

“You know,” he says, “I think I’m going to ask Gale to make us another one of those scrolls.”

And, gods, all you can do is laugh.

[8myass]

୨୧ ‧₊˚ 🍵 ⋅ hi, y'all! i'm new to this community and i just wanted to do a little "intro to my account" post with a bit about me and my writing! `✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ my name is lele, i go by she/her pronouns, and i'm 18 y/o, but i've been writing (and reading) fanfics for years. `✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ this is an 18+ account for the mature themes written. i know minors will read anyway, so just read responsibly and understand what you're getting into. there should be no shocker when there is smut in a smut story. `✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ i follow everyone back! `✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ will include a lot of dark content, fluff isn't my strong suit. `✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ works are scheduled to be posted every saturday and sunday (hopefully). `✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ if you enjoy my works, please like, comment feedback, and reblog! that would be very much appreciated!! 🩵 `✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ requests are open! `✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ prompts for requests are found here, but any requests are appreciated ♡. requests will be answered out of order, so it might take a bit for me to wrack my brain of good content to answer requests! `✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ anons are welcomed. `✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ currents anons are: 🧺 `✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ taglist is open!

ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ- what i won't write: strictly bxb content (i'm inexperienced, maybe i'll try it in the future, also might be on sidelines of stories), incest, mpreg, male reader for smut (as i am not male, i deem it hard to write the mc as a male. but gender neutral is okay), nothing much that i won't really write. ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ- what i do write: gxg, stepcest, age gaps (legal), infidelity/cheating, noncon (no consent given), dubcon (consent is questionable), cnc (roleplayed noncon scenarios, but it's fully consensual), bondage, any kink you can think of (no piss/shit kinks tho 😐), pegging, dom!reader, switch!reader, yandere, stalkers/stalking, gore, knife play, gun play, sensory play, branding, murder (not of mcs), omegaverse / a/b/o (never written before, i can't promise it'll be good, but i can try??), dacryphilia, unprotected sex, breeding, voyeurism/exhibitionism, blackmail, sensory deprivation, femdoms (whether this means reader or idol), g!p, anal, threesomes/foursomes/anysomes rly, orgies/gangbanging, monster fucking??? idk ig that's all for now, i'm willing to try everything at least once, i'm a rather experimental writer. if it's not listed, i will probably write it anyway lmao. ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ- genres i write: smut (w or w/o plot, preferably w), fluff, angst, horror/thriller, suggestive, crack, honestly just anything (always experimenting). ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ- what i write: series (possibly), drabbles, oneshots (less than 4k words), fake texts, headcannons, hard/soft thoughts, full-fics (more than 4k words). ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ- boy groups i write for: nct (all units; nct dream, nct 127, wayv, nct wish but only fluff for all minors), riize, seventeen, stray kids, txt. however, i'll write for any boy group! these are just the only ones that my brain typically needs no help in coming up with ideas for. male soloists can be written for as well! (ngl, i just write for anyone i feel like, so any group is open for requests) ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ- girl groups i write for: (g)i-dle, aespa, blackpink, itzy, newjeans (only fluff for hyein and haerin), le sserafim (only fluff for eunchae), twice, and mamamoo. (kard can also be requested as a co-ed group, female soloists are all able to be written for as well) (i really just write for anyone, so anyone is open for requests too)

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ you can find my male idol masterlist here and my female idol masterlist here! ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ recent works: nct 2023 yandere headcannons, suicidal (yandere!felix) ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ what i'm currently working on: your touch (yandere!anton) [wip, but on hold]

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ jaehyun 2024 birthday event!! [m.list for event can be found here] (on hold)

[bbyquokka]

birthday boy

pairing: hwang hyunjin x fem reader

genre: smut – MDNI

synopsis: during an intimate moment, hyunjin suggests you both create something with the help of his phone

warnings: established relationship, smut, clit play, fingering, oral (f rec), taking pictures and videos during sex (consensual), unprotected sex (piv), hyunjin has big dick energy, bulge kink, degrading names (brat, toy, cum slut), cockwarming, creampie, multiple orgasms, orgasm denial, squirting, dumbification, aftercare

words: 4k ~ (4039)

☆ m.list — ☆ you can also read it on my ao3

dont repost. dont translate. minors, ageless & default blogs; dni! feedback and reblogs are highly advised and appreciated!

the ear piercing sound of your alarm rings. you groan softly, eyes struggling to open as you tap around your bedside table for your phone. you let out another groan, turning your alarm off before snuggling back under the sheets.

“yn.” a heavy, deep and hoarse voice from behind. you hum as a response, feeling his arms wrap around your midriff. he pulls you close to his chest, the curve of your ass bumping against his erection.

“hyunjin..?” you whisper, wiggling your ass purposely. a soft groan hits the back of your neck, his plump lips lazily kissing your neck.

“'m sorry.” he mumbles. you shake your head no, biting your lip gently before reaching down and placing your hand on top of his.

“it's ok. tell me what you want. it is your birthday after all.”

“you.” he mumbles, lazily sucking on your neck. he's not fully awake, you can tell by how slurred and slow his words and actions are

“you have me, jinnie.” 

“mhm.” hyunjin gently pries open your legs, keeping one up in the air, bent at the knee. you swallow, feeling his hand travel down your chest and stomach before his fingertips gently bump the waistband of your panties.

your breath hitches in your stomach, hyunjin snaking his arm under your pillow as you feel his fingers slowly dip between the waistband of your panties. 

his nimble fingers come into contact with your clit. you let out a small whimper, nuzzling into your pillow as he rubs slow circles on the bud. his plump lips kisses your neck, sucking on the skin whilst occasionally dragging his sharp canines, threatening to bite you.

“h-hyunjin..” you mumble, eyes closing slowly. you allow yourself to bask in the pleasure, the feeling building and building in the pit of your stomach, making you feel alive and on fire.

“so pretty.” he mumbles, his fingers briefly leaving your clit to dip between your folds. he uses his middle and index finger to rub between them, a hum of contentment rippling in the back of his throat from the feeling of your slick coating his digits.

“wet.” he slurs, breath hitting your neck. “i love how wet you become for me, how responsive your body is ”

“s-shh. it's embarrassing when you say it out loud, jinnie.” you mumble as you feel your cheek heat up.

“i just like to voice my opinions, baby. plus, i know how much you love hearing me.” he pushes himself up slightly, lips ghosting the shell of your ear. he gently blows, causing shivers to run down your spine as you feel his fingertips circle around your entrance.

“i want you, yn.” his voice is deep and harsh.

“you have me, jinnie.” your voice a mere squeak.

“no.” he mumbles, pressing his chest firmly against your back. his body is hot, heat radiating onto you. you're suffocating, but you enjoy it so much “i need you” he reiterates as he pushes his two fingers deep inside you.

he's welcomed by your warmth. your gummy walls squeezing around his digits as he slowly thrusts them in and out. you let out a shaky moan, your leg starting to ache from being in the air for too long.

“do you understand now, baby? do you understand what i want?” you nod slowly, eyes fluttering shut. “words baby. talk to me.” 

“y-yes jinnie.” 

“that's my girl.” he curls his fingers up against your walls, the pad of his thumb rubbing lazy circles on your puffy clit as his fingers caress your walls. his fingers become soaked with a new layer of slick with each pull back, the sounds of your sloppy cunt making hyunjin's cock twitch uncontrollably in his grey boxer shorts.

“gosh, you sound so fucking beautiful.” hyunjin takes note of your hands that have automatically slid under your night shirt, your fingers tugging and rolling your sensitive nipple.

“j-jinnie.. need, need you so bad.” you whimper. your breath is laboured, pleasure rushing to the tips of your fingers and toes. your body feels like it's on fire and with each thrust of hyunjin's fingers, you feel closer and closer to the edge.

“more.. i want more.”

“oh baby. it's my birthday and yet you're demanding. typical.”

“sorry, i didn't mea–”

“it's ok. i love spoiling my little brat.” hyunjin pulls his fingers out, much to your dismissal. he hushes your whines by pressing his plump lips against yours. they mold together, moving slowly and in time with each other. hyunjin gently rolls you onto your back, slotting himself between your legs.

he pushes your panties down your legs, his fingers rubbing your clit again. you whimper in the kiss, hyunjin taking advantage of your parted lips to push his tongue inside your mouth.

it's hot. his tongue skillfully caressing, tasting each nook and cranny of your mouth. his fingers delicately dancing around your sensitive clit, sending waves of pleasure to ripple up and down your spine. you grip onto hyunjin gently, his lips trailing down your jaw and neck.

he sucks on the skin, leaving a trail of purple splotches. he hastily takes your night shirt off, lips attacking your breasts. teeth scraping along the skin, purple bruising and teeth marks forming in his wake. he licks, sucks and tugs at your nipples, giving each one the right amount of attention.

his lips trail down the valley of your breasts to your stomach. you watch with eager eyes, his own holding so much hunger for you. he buries his face between your legs, wasting no time in devouring your pussy.

he licks, slurps and nibbles your clit. he grips onto your thighs, keeping them wide apart. his strength keeps you from closing your legs around his head. he groans against your folds, tongue licking a long strip from entrance to clit before sucking it.

“j-jin.. fuck, oh fuck..” you pant, fingers tangling in his messy hair. spit and slick mix together forming strings that connect him and you together. his tongue dives in and out of your pussy, cock twitching and balls tightening with each drop of essence he tastes.

his chin and lips coat in saliva and slick. he's messy, a stark contrast from his usual, pristine self.

“taste so good. so good and it's mine, all mine.. fuck yn.” hyunjin pants, his face staying buried between your legs. his fingertips sink into the soft flesh of your thighs, hyunjin acting like a starved man. “more. need so much more.”

your walls contract around his tongue as he uses it to fuck you. saliva dribbles down his chin, his hips lazily grinding down on bed. he's desperate. his cock rock hard and leaking so much pre cum. the material of his boxer shorts soaking up the pre cum. 

he pushes his fingers deep inside you. he groans at the warmth and wetness, the feel of your soft, squishy walls squeezing his digits. he laps at your clit as he pumps his fingers in and out, scissoring you to prepare you. you tug at his hair as you sob his name.

he looks up at you, watching the way your face scrunches up, your chest rising up and down rapidly. your hair sticking to your skin, body hot to the touch and slick with sweat.

“you're so warm around my fingers baby.” he mumbles against your clit, “i just know it's going to be so blissful to feel you around my cock.” he smirks as he feels your walls clamp down around his digits.

“loosen up babe. i have to make sure i fit.” he says with a hint of cockiness lacing his words. you roll your eyes, smirking as you gaze down at him.

“you will fit, hyun. you always do.”

“mhm. but you know how big and thick i am.”

“you sound so cocky.” you groan as hyunjin peppers kisses along your inner thighs.

“mhm. is that a bad thing?”

“no. it's attractive, actually. plus, i like your cock, i love the way it makes me feel.” you purr.

“is that what you want baby? to feel my cock deep inside you and stroking your warm and wet walls?”

“please. don't get me wrong, i love your fingers but your cock.. it just hits all the right places.” you whimper.

hyunjin slowly pulls his fingers out. your core throbbing as the sudden emptiness. you swallow, watching as hyunjin rests up on his knees between your legs. his boxer shorts too tight for him, squeezing around his length whilst moulding to his shape and size.

he pushes his boxer shorts down to his thighs, grabbing you by your ankles to pull you closer to him. you squeal, laughing softly.

“so, it's my birthday.” hyunjin smirks as he strokes his cock slowly. “what treat will i get from you?”

“a-anything you want.” you whisper. hyunjin looks around before spotting his phone on his side of the bed. he gives you a cheeky smirk as he reaches over and grabs his phone.

“porn.”

“e-excuse me??”

“lets make porn together.” you cheeks flush a crimson red. hyunjin keeps his gaze locked on you, his face and tone of voice sincere.

“b-but.. i – hyun..” you stutter.

“only if you want to baby. i won't make you do something you don't feel comfortable doing.”

“nono! i mean, i know we've spoken about it before but i–uh” you stumble over your words, feeling extremely shy all of a sudden. “i-i mean, sure.” 

hyunjin's face lights up, a big smile plastered on his face. “it'll just be for us baby, dont worry.”

“i know jinnie. i trust you.” hyunjin opens up his camera, pointing it at you and swallowing thickly. the sight of your round breast and perky nipples. your skin glowing due to the sheen of sweat and your juices sticking to your folds and inner thighs. 

it's enough to make hyunjin cum.

“holy shit.. you're so beautiful.” he mumbles, taking a few pictures of you. he groans softly, eyes fixated on his screen as he scans over your body. the sheen of sweat glistening from the light, your hair unkempt and fanned out against the sheets, your eye doe like and lips parted.

“jinnie..” you whisper, “hurry!” 

hyunjin hums softly, pressing record on his phone. he grabs the base of his cock, pointing the camera down so it's in view. he rubs his tip between your soaked folds, bumping against your clit as your core pulsates.

hyunjin pushes himself inside slowly. his cock head disappearing and being encapsulated by your warmth and wetness. the stretch burns, making you feel some discomfort 

you let out short, laboured pants as he pushes. your body feeling stuffed already. you know he isn't even halfway but he already feels so deep, reaching and caressing the deepest parts of your body.

“tight.. warm..” hyunjin groans, holding your waist with one hand whilst making sure he captures his cock slowly disappearing inside you on camera.

“i feel so full already Jinnie. you're so big.. thick and just.. it's so much.” you mewl.

“halfway. im halfway baby. you're doing so well for me.” hyunjin stops pushing to which you furrow your brows at. you whine, wrapping your legs around his waist and pushing him with your heels.

“all!!” 

“b-but baby.. i won't be able to hold. you know that.”

“dont care. i want all of you. i want to be filled up by you until it's all seeping out.” 

“baby..” hyunjin shakily whispers. “dont tempt me.”

“please hyunjin. please.” you beg “it is your birthday after all so please just, use me.”

“you, yn, are a menace. i hope you know that.” you hum in response, taking hyunjin's phone.

you point it at him as he grips onto your hips. he pushes and pushes, until he bottoms out in you. beads of sweat roll down his temples, brows scrunched together as he squeezes your hips.

you point the phone down, placing your hand on the lower portion of your stomach. you pant heavily, walls squeezing around hyunjin as an obvious and promenate bulge is felt under the palm of your hand.

“big.. so big. can you feel it hyunjin? can you feel how deep inside you are?”

“yes” he whispers as his eyes squeeze shut. “yes i can and I am struggling. you're so warm, wet and fucking tight.”

“do you like it though?” you ask sweetly, fluttering your lashes as you take his hand and press it against the bulge. hyunjin clenches his jaw as he presses firmly. he feels the tip of his penis against his palm, a shaky breath escaping from his nostrils.

“i might cum. i feel so close already.” 

“then cum jinnie. i told you, it's your birthday. use me as much as you want.” 

hyunjin's head dips low, his plump lip caught between his teeth. he squeezes your hips with force, leaving bruises behind. you help him edge closer by purposefully contracting around his length.

“no.. shit.. close. gonna cum. f-fuck!” he shivers, long groans rippling from his chest as his release hits him. you make sure to capture the whole thing on video, panning the camera up and down.

hyunjin lazily thrusts his hips, riding out his high and fucking his cum deep inside you. his cock twitches, feeling a little sensitive but he cannot stop. you feel too good around, so good that he is willing to overstimulate himself.

“my precious jinnie.” you coo. “are you sensitive already?” you tease. he grunts, gripping your hips before pulling his hips back, his cockhead being the only thing remaining inside you.

“toys don't talk.” he snaps his hips harshly against yours. your eyes widen, body jolting with each powerful impact. pleasure surges through your veins, taking over your entire being. you let out soft grunts and moans in the form of his name, the ability to focus on capturing hyunjin via camera becoming a struggle.

his cock strokes and caresses your soft, wet walls. his tip bumps and nudges your g-spot, heightening the pleasure.

“j-jinnie..” you pant. hyunjin smirks, taking his phone off you and videoing you. he captures the way your body twists and turns, the scrunch of your eyebrows and your eyes fluttering shut. your sweet moans captured on video as well as ringing in his ears.

you're a sight he loves to see.

“good?” 

“so good.” you groan. you cup your breasts, squeezing them in the palm of your hands. you tug and roll your nipples between your thumb and finger whilst staring straight into the camera.

“such a good toy.” hyunjin hums. “letting me us you and dump all my cum inside you. what a great birthday treat.” 

“want it to be a day you'll never forget.” you whisper

“dont you worry yn. i will never be able to forget this.” he pans the camera down, capturing the space that connects you both together. 

it's sloppy. cum and juices mixing together. the skin of his veiny cock being coated with a new layer of your slick. you grip onto the sheets as you babble. your mind is hazy and numb, nothing but thoughts of hyunjin rushing through your mind.

hyunjin presses the pad of his thumb roughly against your clit, rubbing it in slow circles. you whimper, reaching out and grabbing his wrist in an attempt to stop his actions. the pit of your stomach feels terribly warm, the knot tightening with each rub and thrust; and hyunjin knows it.

“hold.” he states as you open your mouth to let him know you're close. you close your mouth, deciding to go against debating with him considering the way he is looking at you so hungrily.

you obey. you have no choice but to obey. 

you desperately hold. the pressure building and building. your cunt becoming more and more sensitive. hyunjin is showing no signs of being gentle nor slowing down. his skin slaps against yours harshly, the sounds mixing together with moans and sloppy, wet sounds.

“burns..” you whisper, back arching off the bed. hyunjin hums, disregarding your statement and feelings. he's too caught up in his own pleasure, chasing his own high. it's not a bad thing per say.

you've seen him like this many times before. he's reached that point. his own mind is hazy. he's drunk on lust, hormones and the way you feel and sound. he wants more, more than what you're body can give. he wants to push your limits as well as his own.

you trust him. you know he would never hurt you. you know that if you felt the need to use the traffic light system, he would stop and come back down to reality.

however, you love seeing him like this. his pupils blown out with lust and pure hunger. his body slick with sweat, dripping down from his sharp chin. a sudden burst of energy pumps through his veins, hips smacking harshly against yours making your muscles scream out in pain.

hyunjin suddenly pulls out off you to rest against the headboard. he impatiently takes your wrist, pulling you on top of him. he raises his brow at you as you straddle him, pussy hovering over his throbbing cock.

at this point, the homemade porn has been long forgotten, the phone discarded on the bed but still recording the sounds you're both making. you plant your hands firmly on hyunjin's stomach as you lower yourself onto his length. you whimper, the knot threatening to snap as he penetrates you again.

“p-please.. can't..” 

“can't what?”

“can't continue.” you heavily pant, your hips automatically moving on their own, contradicting your words.

“really? because from where i'm sitting, i think you can.” a shit eating grin plastered on his face. you hang your head low, hair hiding your face as you dig your nails into his stomach. you use your thighs, tensing the muscles, to bounce on his cock, setting a steady and fast rhythm.

the new position makes it possible for hyunjin to reach further inside you, which you didn't think was possible. it's a strange feeling, a feeling you can't describe. you just feel tingly and overwhelmed.

“please jinnie.. please let me cum..” the feeling is unbearable. you feel so close yet so very far.

“what did i tell you at the start? toys don't talk.” you whimper, hot tears filling your eyes. hyunjin coos as he strokes your cheek.

your movements soon become sloppy, your muscles starting to burn. you settle on rocking your hips back and forth, hyunjin helping you by holding your hips. not long after, he takes your wrist and pulls you flush against his chest. he wraps his arms around you tightly, planting his feet firmly on the bed before thrusting upwards into you.

you let out empty moans and whimpers, arms and body falling limp. your lips part, drool and tears trickling down and onto his skin. 

“love it when you let me use you like this.” hyunjin says between heavy pants. his balls tightening, cock twitching. your walls clench around him, tighter and tighter, making it impossible for him to move.

“h-hyunjin…” you sob.

“shh. soon baby. just let me dump my cum inside you, yeah?” 

“cum. want cum. wanna cum.” you babble.

“my little cum slut. i'm almost there baby.” you continue to babble, broken sobs mixed in. hyunjin halts his movements, long, desperate groans rippling from his chest as his orgasm hits him.

you close your eyes as the feeling of his hot, sticky fluid filling you up. his cock twitching with each release, hyunjin holding onto you for dear life. you had no time to warn him, the pent up pressure plus the feeling of hyunjin filling you up was too much for your body to bear.

you bite down in your lip hard, muscles and body convulsing and shaking as you squirt. your orgasm hit hard making you feel light headed and desperate for breath. juices squirt out onto hyunjin, spilling onto the bedsheets as it mixes together with his cum.

he pulls his flaccid cock out off you slowly as you hiss in pain. cum seeps from your entrance, spilling onto the sheet and mixing with your juices. hyunjin looks down at you, stroking your hair gently and kissing the top of your head.

“baby?” he soft speaks, a hint of worry laced in his words. “are you ok?”

you give him a weak hum. hyunjin bites his lip, worry lacing his facial features.

“was it too much..?” he wearily asks. you slowly lift your head up to look at him, shaking your head no slowly.

“absolutely not.” hyunjin chuckles softly at the sound of your hoarse voice.

“are you sure?” 

“a million percent.”

“ok angel. shall we clean up?” you nod, slowly getting off hyunjin. you hiss at the sudden shooting pain in your back and legs. hyunjin gives you an apologetic smile before rushing to the bathroom.

he fills the tub up with your favourite lavender scented bubble bath, laying out your soft towel, cotton panties and some cream to help soothe and heal your bruises.

he takes a soft, cotton flannel, soaking it up with some lukewarm water before walking to you. he kneels between your legs, gently wiping at your sore and swollen pussy. you whimper, hyunjin kissing your inner thighs tenderly as a way of apologizing before picking you up and walking to the tub.

he gently lowers you down, getting in behind you. you hum softly at the feeling of the warm water relaxing your tired and sore muscles. you rest all your body weight onto hyunjin's chest.

“what would you like to do today, jinnie?” you ask as hyunjin squirts some shampoo onto the palm of his hand. he massages it into your hair, massaging your scalp in the process.

“i want to go to an art museum and have some coffee later.” 

“ok.” you grin. “i'm paying for it all though.”

“are you sure? i mean, you are tender darling. i don't want you to push yourself further if you're sore.”

“jinnie, i'll be fine. don't you worry. i know my body and my limits. plus, it is your birthday.”

“i know but i also don't mind staying in as well if you're sore baby.” 

“jinnie, i want to. i'll be fine, i promise you.” you close your eyes as hyunjin rinses the shampoo from your hair before applying and rinsing the condition.

“pinky promise?” he extends his arm out to your side, pinky at the ready. you giggle, hooking your pinky with his. “ok, good. we shall just take it easy and slow then, yeah?”

you nod in agreement before washing your body. hyunjin washes his hair and body before stepping out. he wraps a towel around himself, extending his hand out to you in which you take and allow him to help you out off the tub.

he laughs softly at your shaky legs, a faint pink blush appearing on your cheeks. he helps to dry you off and dress you, applying the cream to your bruises.

hyunjin rushes off to the bedroom to get dressed, you shakily following him. he picks up his phone, smirking as he stops the recording. 

“saving that for later.” 

“hyun!!” you whine, feeling shy and embarrassed. hyunjin laughs softly before picking out his outfit.

“im so excited! i've been wanting to go to the museum for weeks!” 

“im glad you're excited baby. it'll be my treat too.”

“you don't have to baby.”

“no.” you say, standing in front of him and placing your hand on his chest gently. “but i want to. you're my baby, i want to spoil you.” 

hyunjin holds your waist gently, leaning down and pressing his lips against yours in a sweet and tender kiss; a kiss that filled with such love and sincerity, it feels like your drowning and unable to breath from the powerful emotion.

“i love you so much, yn.” he takes your hand gently, pressing his lips against the back of it as he keeps his eyes on you. your heart leaps from your chest, cheeks turning pink.

“and i love you so much too jinnie. happy birthday, my handsome boy.” 

note: happy birthday to our hyunjin & a happy birthday to @oshimee! this is my gift from me to you. i hope you have a good day and ilysvm!! 🖤🖤 don’t forget to leave feedback, reblog and tell me what you think here. curious as to what is next? here is my wips list! i hope you all enjoy! ‹3

tags [open]: @sstarryoong ; @septicrebel ; @bbujiikseu ; @cixrosie ; @alyszaen ; @writerracha ; @hyunluvxo

[ropebuny]

I find it interesting that you decry pervy older men and yet have your desired relationship to be fauxcest d/s.

What makes a guy a pervy older man vs a viable dominant who can make the relationship a reality?

I find perviness cute but only when it’s present in a relationship I am in, when it is consensual and reciprocal. I don’t like strangers being pervy, specifically strangers who are old men because of my childhood trauma. and my dms are filled with old men hitting on me and being disrespectful, only seeing me as an object on here. another gripe I have with old men is how they all get horny over my age and supposedly how that is the only thing they care about instead of trying to get to know me. I have been running this blog since I was 18 and I get less pervy dms now that I turned 21 vs when I was 18/19 which makes me sick to my stomach because all old pervy men on here seem to care about is being with a teen, someone who is barely legal. and I don’t want to get into a relationship with someone who focuses solely on my age. I want to click with someone and be in a happy relationship with someone who doesn’t only get horny over my age being so much younger than theirs. but it seems like old pervy men just care about that. and judging from your ask, I am guessing you think I only want to date older men specifically ? when in reality I’d pursue someone older OR someone my age, because my ideal partner isn’t necessarily an old man. my ideal partner is someone who loves me and values me, my ‘must have’ criteria has never been to ‘date an old man.’ my interest in having a fauxcest relationship doesn’t automatically cancel out being with someone my age. I feel perfectly fine calling another 21 year old ‘dad’ because dad to me is a title that needs to be deserved. not every older man deserves it just because they’re old. not everyone fits into my dad criteria and it’s not a given that an old man will always play out this role for me. I am bisexual, I like any and all genders. my ‘dad’ could be either a woman, a man, or a nonbinary person/genderfluid person. so I don’t like having others assume that I only want to date men, specifically old men because of my kinks. it’s like you forget not all kinky relationships, or specifically fauxcest relationships, involve an old man and a young girl. I would be fine dating someone my age and calling them dad, and having that someone not be a man. and I have this disdain towards pervy old men because they constantly make me uncomfortable in my dms and by sending me creepy and unwanted asks where they tell me the things they’d want to do to me, unprompted. and I don’t appreciate receiving that kind of attention unless it’s from my partner. and I have this disdain for old pervy men because I have trauma from my childhood and I need to trust an old man before I let them fully into my life. so I am always wary and expecting the worst based on my bad experiences with old men on here and based on the trauma from when I was a child. just because I post about fancying age gaps in a relationship, it doesn’t mean it’s a must criteria for me or that my significant must be a man. I have certain kinks that I post about that I’d never make a reality and I only fantasise about, for example gore. it’s not a must for me that my significant other is an old man solely based on the kinks I tend to post about.

what makes someone a valiable dom for me is respect and understanding consent, trust & boundaries. so, some supposed ‘dom’ who is in my dms telling me what he’d do to me without any warning or ever talking to me prior is not what I am looking for at all. which unfortunately seems to be the case for how most old men act on tumblr. plus how they tend to prey on teenagers. hence my disdain for pervy old men

[reflections-in-a-critical-eye]

Welcome Back. 🥳

If you have to list most fave songs within album. How would each of the song rank in your list?

Thank you.

Hi @misslauwie! I assume you're asking about Face. If not, then so be it because that's what I'll be talking about 😄

I'll make this brief and not an in-depth analysis. I actually avoided Face for a while after its release. I did listen to all the songs immediately and as a first impression, I liked everything, but I took a step back. It's difficult to explain because I myself don't know exactly what was so odd. It felt like I'm listening to the music made by a stranger, but then again isn't a good thing when an artist reveals a new side of themselves through creative means? So why the cognitive dissonance? Well, one answer would be because all of us have this image in our head of that person. And while there is a general consensus, some things we perceive or make up in our heads will differ because we project onto them. And it happens often and really easy when we're focusing on that artist every single day. I find that it's a bit too much, at least from me. It was difficult to be able to fully understand, appreciate or even critique the music without some distance. Which is what I did and a couple of months later I decided that I can and want to listen to Face casually.

And I'll tell you what transpired. Like Crazy the English version is the only song from the album that I have added to a spotify playlist that I listen to everyday at work when I'm writing/editing. It's right there in between an IVE song and Kylie's Padam Padam. It's such a damn good song. From the musical arrangement, the lyrics (emotions on ice, let me have a taste???? Damn, I'd have that tattooed somewhere), the way Jimin sings. The entire production is top notch. I want to listen to it on a vinyl record at a party in an apartment at 2 am in the morning kind of vibe. An 80s throwback, but it also has that contemporary aspect to it. It's a type of song that fits well with the trends in the last couple of years, but impressive enough to stand out. If it had radio play, it would have become a hit with the gp. Like Crazy is that song that could have been BIG if only it got the means to it.

Second it would be Letter, but not for some deep reasons or whatever hidden meaning behind it. A lot of the times when I listen to music, I don't think about some back story. I doesn't mean I don't think about the meaning of the lyrics, but maybe I just like the melody and the voice. Letter initially made me think of a Studio Ghibli movie, something about adolescence and young adulthood in the summer. It would be perfect for a soundtrack. And now I also associate the song with that period in my life in March because who was on a 3h train ride running away from town because life is shitty and had Letter on repeat the entire time while crying and wearing sunglasses so the other people on the chairs nearby wouldn't see? Yep, that's Letter for me.

Coming in third, Set Me Free Pt. 2. No need to go into detail, I've written about it when it was released. But I don't listen to it anymore and I'm still not a fan of the rap part despite understanding the creative reason behind it.

Alone and Face-Off. Both good songs, but I don't think about them. For no particular reason, it's just that I'm not in the mood to have them casually in a playlist. But if from time to time I choose to listen to Face entirely (usually on a train ride), I don't skip them. I do the album entirely, beginning to an end (and skip Interlude: Dive).

[textsfromthetva]

Mamma Mia, here I go again

Title: Official Dress Code

Pairing: Loki/Mobius/Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word count: 4,7k

Summary: In which there is crossdressing, butt plugs, semi-public sex, consensual voyeurisms, and it’s all pretty graphic. So you know, a normal Thursday afternoon around here.

A/N: Once again we have two versions, chapter 1 is she/her for the reader, Chapter 2 is they/them. And as always, there’s not a single “Y/N” in sight.

AO3 Link, if you prefer

“I checked the official dress code,” Loki says, smirking as he shifts his weight from both legs to just the left, his hips accentuated by the change in angle. “Skirts are permitted in the office, as long as they reach your knees.”

“You know this isn’t what they meant,” you grumble, but you know he’s right. Those are the official guidelines.

“I’ve read my file,” Loki continues. “My gender is listed as ‘fluid’, and as such, it would be very improper for the TVA to deny me the right to express my gender identity while I work here.”

You sigh very loudly. “You’re taking advantage.”

Loki walks towards Mobius’ unmade bed, where you’re currently seated, hips swaying with each step. “Are you surprised?”

“Not really,” you confess. Your eyes are entirely focused on his legs. Their length is accentuated by the plain brown pencil skirt and work-appropriately-modest heels he is wearing. He shaved them at some point, and they look simultaneously slender and strong, the heels making his calf muscles appear even more defined than they would look in flat shoes. The rest of his usual work uniform has been left untouched, but the Time Keepers be damned, that skirt makes all the difference. “But this is pushing it.”

“A lot?”

“A... moderate amount.”

Loki grins. “Good.” Something changes in his demeanor, barely noticeable, but you (and you’re loath to admit it) know him by now. “Do you think he’ll like it?” he asks. There’s a miniscule trace of uncertainty there, an unwitting wish for approval.

Acknowledging this vulnerability with genuine affection or encouragement isn’t something he’ll accept from you though. From Mobius, sure, but you and Loki don’t have that kind of relationship. So instead you give him a lopsided smile, making a show of running your eyes up and down his body. “He has eyes, doesn’t he?” you ask, adding “Yes, I think he will.”

Loki smiles demurely and takes the last few steps that bring him within touching distance. You spread your legs, allowing him to stand between your knees. “And what about you?”

You tilt your head and pretend to consider it, although you’re sure you look plenty appreciative. “You’re not an unpleasant sight,” you finally say.

Loki snorts, reaches for his skirt and hikes it up just far enough to let him crawl into your lap. As he straddles you, you automatically bring your hands up to grab his hips and pull him closer. The fabric of the skirt feels a lot more high-quality than the standard TVA uniforms. You wonder where he got it.

You crane your neck back to make eye contact and it’s only now that you fully appreciate the look of contentment on his face. He isn’t just doing this to push TVA boundaries or turn you on, he genuinely feels good in this outfit.

Loki wraps his arms loosely around your neck. “You know,” he says, “if I had my magic, I could complete the look better.”

“Oh, really?” you ask with mock innocence, moving your hand to slide it up his thigh, under the skirt.

Loki lets out a shuddering breath. “You mean to tell me you wouldn’t like the chance to play with a cunt for once?”

You swallow, trying to keep your voice steady. “I wouldn’t be averse to the idea. However, this is all theoretical: you don’t have your magic here, and I doubt we can get a sign off on a mission with the argument that we’d like to fuck you silly while you have your shapeshifting powers at your disposal.”

“I’m sure Mobius could come up with some plausible excuse for us to take a – ah” he breaks off into a gasp, hips twitching forward as you fondle him. He’s wearing some silky underthings the definitely aren’t TVA issued. “A little excursion,” he finishes.

“Your faith in him is admirable, you know that?”

Loki’s eyes are fluttering shut, brows knitting together in concentration as you rub the heel of your palm slowly back and forth along his hardening cock. His hips start moving in time with your hand, his breathing getting more labored by the second. You lean up and press a kiss to his jaw, then trail a series of them down the column of his throat, which he gracefully bares for you. He seems to have lost track of the conversation, and that’s pretty much the greatest compliment you can get when it comes to him.

Still, one of you has to keep their wits about them.

You slow the movement of your hand. “So what’s your plan exactly?”

Loki exhales through his nose, a frustrated huff. He sits back far enough to be able to look you in the eye. “Walk into the main office. Look amazing. Wait until he arrives. Continue to look so amazing that it will drive him crazy. Sneak off to the storage closet down the hall. Have him fuck me hard, while you watch on your silly little screen.” He gives you a haughty smile. “That’s the plan.”

“It’s not all bad,” you acknowledge, “but I do have some minor concerns.”

Loki frowns. “What concerns?”

“How long do you think the two of you can spend in that storage room before someone starts noticing you’ve disappeared together and haven’t come back?”

Loki shrugs. “I don’t know. Fifteen minutes?”

“I’d say about ten.”

“Twelve.”

You roll your eyes. “This isn’t a negotiation, you know.”

“I still fail to see your point. We can both get off in that time, especially with the thrill of getting caught adding to the excitement.” He gives you a sly grin, eyes twinkling with mischief. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

You smile tightly. “And how much time have you scheduled for preparation?”

Loki opens his mouth to reply, realizes he’s made a miscalculation in his planning, and so closes it again without replying, an increasingly conflicted expression on his face.

You reach up to grab his tie and tug, prompting him to look down at you. “Now now, let’s not get discouraged. We just need to display some... foresight.”

Loki stares at you for a couple of seconds before he catches your drift, at which point he immediately jumps off you and kneels on the floor, reaching for the toy chest under the bed, while you go for the lube in the drawer of the nightstand. By the time you have found it and have righted yourself, Loki is climbing back into your lap and pressing a generously sized butt plug into your free hand. “You will do the honors, won’t you?” he asks, his smile all teeth and audacious charm.

You fix him with a level look, slide your hand under his skirt once more, and snap the edge of his panties. “Off.”

Fingering Loki is always quite the experience. You’ve done it before, but you’re pretty sure it will never get old. This position is different though; the weight of him in your lap, his hands clutching your shoulders, his ragged breathing as he drops down onto your fingers, the little mewls he emits when you crook your fingers to rub against his prostate, it’s all tantalizingly new. You watch him move with your rhythmic pushes up into him, quietly enthralled by the color rising in his cheeks and the way he’s starting to sweat at the temples. You realize to your not-so-subtle delight that you could probably make him come like this.

You still your hand, using the free one to stroke down his flank until you can grip his hip.

Loki lets out a shuddering breath, reluctantly stopping his own movements, caught between wanting to chase his orgasm and following the plan. “Yes. Now.”

You snatch up the plug from the twisted sheets, deftly replacing your fingers with the black rubber. It slips in easily. “Go on then.”

Loki gets to his feet somewhat shakily, pulling his panties back on and smoothing down his skirt. His erection is painfully obvious beneath the tight fabric, but you’re certain he will get it somewhat under control before he leaves the room. He shifts experimentally, getting used to the feeling of the plug inside him.

“You good?”

“Perfectly fine, thank you, Agent.” He gives you a heated look. “I shall see you later.”

“I’ll see you first,” you point out.

He grins. “That you will.”

***

You don’t exactly rush to the security department, because that would be suspicious. The fact that you immediately shut the door behind you when you arrive in the main control room and lock it? Well, that’s unfortunately necessary.

You slide into your chair and scan the screens, finding Loki in seconds. He’s lingering outside the double doors to the open office space that he’s been assigned to, smoothing down his skirt and adjusting his tie. He glances at the camera above the door, and, as if he knows that you’re in place, he winks. You roll your eyes and pull up the wide view of the office as he enters. He’s walking surprisingly steady, everything considered. Then again, you don’t know how used he is to walking in high heels with a butt plug in his ass, but you make mental a note to ask Mobius for his insights into the subject at a later time. He will definitely know.

Loki strolls through the office with a level of confidence most often displayed by ancient royalty, which you suppose is to be expected. As people start to notice his presence, a hush spreads through the room. Loki smirks, the sway of his hips growing more pronounced as every TVA agent’s focus is drawn to him. The way some of them blatantly turn their heads to follow him with their eyes is pretty comical.

He doesn’t go to his own desk, even though he’s got one now. Oh no, he aims straight for Mobius’, which is currently empty. He’s in the middle of a debrief with Renslayer, as you both knew ahead of time. This way would be more effective, and somewhat less suspicious, Loki had claimed. You doubt it, but Loki insisted.

He shrugs off his jacket and sits down in Mobius’ chair somewhat gingerly, shifting briefly to get comfortable before turning the chair a little, leaning back and crossing his legs. The previously modest skirt rides up, displaying his thighs to half the room’s occupants. That’s definitely unprofessional, you think, while your hand automatically moves to the slider that allows you to zoom in.

Loki picks up one of Mobius’ jet ski catalogues, and starts flipping through it, obviously pretending that nothing it out of the ordinary. Eventually people around him manage to tear their eyes away and return to their work, the ambient buzz of clicking keyboards and office small talk filling the space once more.

You are impressed by how still Loki managed to keep himself. Occasionally he will rock back and forth a few times to make the toy shift, but if you didn’t already know what was going on, you probably wouldn’t be noticing the way his face changes at the movement. But as it is, you can just about make out the way he blinks a little slower, brown furrowing a tiny bit, lips parting.

You’re so busy watching Loki, you don’t even notice that Mobius is approaching the office before he’s just outside. Unlike Loki, he doesn’t pause before entering, and once inside he makes a beeline for his desk. As he notices Loki lounging there, he frowns in annoyance. At which point Loki puts down the magazine and swirls the chair a bit more, allowing Mobius full view of his lower body for the first time.

Mobius’ shoulders tense up so quickly and so noticeably that you would have been able to tell even if you hadn’t zoomed it at all. He stares, first at Loki’s legs, then up at his face. The buzzing of the office has died down once more, everyone seemingly holding their breath as they wait to see how Mobius will handle the situation. Sensing their attention on him, Mobius relaxes his shoulders, circles the desk, and throws down the files he was carrying onto the cluttered surface. You can’t see his face clearly at this angle, but you can imagine that he’s probably aiming for quiet disapproval. It’s what he should be feeling.

Loki says something to him in a voice too low for you to hear, and Mobius’ shoulders jerk in what you assume is a snort. The Variant is not being subtle, you note. As a matter of fact, he is leaning forward, looking up at Mobius coquettishly, fluttering his eyelashes as he keeps talking. This time you focus on trying to read his lips. You catch ‘dress code’ and ‘acceptable’.

Mobius folds his arms across his chest. Loki gives him an innocent smile. Mobius nods his head firmly in direction of the office entrance. You suppose he wants to come off as simply disappointed, like he’s going to reprimand Loki somewhere else, but the way Loki gets to his feet screams enthusiasm rather than concern. Mobius turns and starts walking away in a brisk stride, not looking back to see if Loki is following. The second they are out the door though, Loki falls into step beside him rather than trailing behind. He whispers something in Mobius’ ear and Mobius shudders, blushing even as he keeps walking.

You were the one who picked their destination earlier in the day, a storage room located down a couple of lesser used hallways, but close enough to the office for Loki to be able to keep his hands to himself before they’re alone.

Also, the security camera is placed ideally for your particular purpose, so of course there’s that.

Mobius closes the door behind the two of them and locks it. Loki walks into the middle of the room and turns to grin at him, opening his mouth to make what would no doubt extremely witty comment, but it dies on his tongue as Mobius seizes the front of his jacket and pushes Loki back against one of the shelving units with enough force to make the metal rattle. Loki gasps, bracing himself on the shelf that’s level with his lower back. Mobius crushes their lips together with no further preamble, and Loki groans deeply, one hand moving to grab the back on Mobius’ neck.

You note with no small amount of satisfaction that you picked the right room, well-lit and small enough for the microphone that’s connected to the camera to pick up even the smallest sound of pleasure Loki makes as the two of them kiss. It’s perfect.

Mobius reluctantly breaks the kiss, glancing up at the security camera. “I doubt this was your idea,” he says, obviously aimed at you.

“She barely even protested,” Loki purrs, reaching for Mobius’ tie and pulling it sharply to bring his attention back to him.

Mobius complies, catching Loki’s lips in another deep kiss. Moments later he presses his leg forward, slotting it between Loki’s. The skirt rides up again as Loki’s hips arch forward seemingly by their own accord, and he breaks the kiss and throws his head back against the shelves, breathing raggedly as he rubs himself off against Mobius’ thigh. Mobius hands make their way to Loki’s waist and hip, encouraging the movement.

“What do you want, kitten?”

Loki takes several seconds to focus enough to formulate the answer. “I want you to fuck me.”

Mobius chuckles. “I don’t think we have time for that, love,” he replies, planting small kissing along Loki’s jaw, as if in apology. “People will wonder where we’ve disappeared to.”

Loki lets out a breathy laugh, glancing at the camera. “The two of you share a single, boring, overanalytical brain, don’t you?” He reaches down and hitches up his skirt, pushes down his panties, and then grabs Mobius’ hand and forcefully pulls it down between his legs.

You can tell exactly when Mobius discovers the plug, because he goes completely still for a couple of seconds before turning his head to the camera as well. “The two of your will be the death of me.”

You chuckle under your breath, knowing you could probably do worse. At least Loki could.

Mobius shrugs out of his jacket and tosses it onto a tower of cardboard boxes, then turns Loki around with practiced efficiency, sliding his hand up the backs of his thighs, squeezing the firm flesh of his ass as the skirt is pushed up completely, bunching around Loki’s waist. The angle you’re getting is exquisite, which definitely isn’t a coincidence. Loki’s ridiculously long legs are on full display, accentuated by the heels, and when Mobius reaches down to teasingly start playing with the plug the ensuing arch of his back is frankly breathtaking.

“How long did you wait for me?” Mobius asks, mouthing at the side of Loki’s throat.

Loki groans. “Too long.”

“Sitting there, in my chair, already slick and ready.” He shifts the angle of the plug, and judging by the noise Loki makes, it’s now rubbing against his prostate. “Was it difficult, hiding what you were up to? Not letting people know just how much of a slut you are?”

Loki chuckles breathlessly. “I possess a high level of self-control.” The way he’s pressing back against Mobius is evidence to the contrary, but Loki doesn’t seem to realize that.

The irony isn’t lost on Mobius though, but he doesn’t comment on it. He finally pulls the plug out, setting it down on the shelf by Loki’s waist. He replaces it with his fingers, slowly sliding them in and out, making a show out of it for your benefit. It certainly isn’t to satisfy Loki, who by now is shivering with pent-up energy.

“Mobius,” he all-but whines.

“Just making sure she did a thorough job,” Mobius mutters. “It was her, wasn’t it? Working you open, getting you ready for me?”

Mobius rarely does this, talks dirty with such intent, but it’s having a clear impact on Loki, who nods erratically. “Yeah, it was her.”

“Did she let you come?” Mobius asks.

Loki shakes his head. “No, no. She wanted – I wanted...” he trails off into a gasp as Mobius pushes his fingers deeper.

“To come on my cock?” Mobius asks in an unbelievably level voice, especially considering the fact that he’s working his belt open with his free hand.

“Yes,” Loki hisses, “Please, Mobius, fuck me. I’m ready, I can take it, I need you.”

You used more lube than was strictly necessary for inserting the plug, but that was on purpose. When Mobius withdraws his fingers, there’s easily enough slick on them to allow him to spread it onto his cock once he’s finally got himself in hand. At this point he’s obviously growing tired with keeping up the air of aloofness, because once he’s lined himself up to Loki’s hole, he pushes in faster than he normally would, spending only a few shallow thrusts before burying himself fully in Loki’s body.

Here's the thing: you’ve been wet since Loki first climbed into your lap back in Mobius’ apartment. It has taken all your willpower to ignore your own arousal until this point, to just observe, but by now the tense pressure between your thighs has become too much to bear. You lean back in your chair, pop the button of your pants, pull down the zipper, and shove them down around your thighs. The chair creaks just loud enough to drown out the sound of your relief as you finally touch yourself.

The noises Loki is making are beautiful, breathy little mewls that turn to persistent, wanton moans as Mobius starts thrusting into him, hard and steady. Loki braces himself against metal shelves, holding on as Mobius fucks him, sounds encouragement spilling freely from his lips. He’s not even trying to keep quiet.

And he was right about one thing; the thrill of doing this in a place where they could theoretically get caught is obviously spurring both of them on. Mobius’s grip on Loki’s hips is unyielding, his movements a lot faster and a lot more focused than they would normally be at this point. But he does notice when Loki reaches down and starts jerking himself off, only letting him get away with it for a minute or so before grabbing Loki’s wrist and firmly pulling his hand away. Loki moans pathetically, although the sound soon morphs into pleasure as Mobius takes over stroking him.

You double down on your own efforts, rubbing your clit firmly as your bite your lip to keep quiet yourself, because there are infinitely more people walking past just outside your door at any given moment.

They’re close, both of them. Loki is on the point of tensing up, his breath hitching in his throat, when Mobius suddenly stops the movement of his hand, squeezing around the base of Loki’s cock. Loki lets out a confused whine, and for some reason, you still your own hand, although you had been hurdling towards your own climax.

“We can’t have that, kitten,” Mobius growls. “Leaving evidence like that would be dangerous.”

“Fuck,” Loki curses, trying to twist his body to get what he needs to push him over the edge, but Mobius is unrelenting. Seconds later he comes inside Loki with a long groan, but at no point does he show Loki the slightest amount of pity. Instead he ignores Loki’s frantic whimpers of protest and pulls out of him, expertly snatching the butt plug off the shelf and pushing it back into place, trapping his come inside Loki’s body. He pats Loki’s hip with steady finality. When Loki realizes what’s going on, he turns around, a frantic look on his face. “You can’t do this.”

Mobius tilts his head, already tugging himself back into his trousers. “Do what?” he asks, plucking his jacket up and producing a handkerchief from his pocket, meticulously wiping his fingers clean with it.

“Leave me in this state!”

Mobius chuckles. “Payback is a bitch, kitten.” He puts the handkerchief away. “You brought this on yourself, dressing like this just to rile me up.” He starts putting the jacket back on.

Loki practically launches himself at Mobius, stopping his attempt at dressing. “Please,” he says, “I can’t go back to the office like this.”

Mobius hums, considering. Eventually he turns to the security camera. “Do you think he deserves it?”

“Yes,” you breathe on pure instinct, even though they can’t hear you. You press your fingertips against your clit for just the slightest amount of relief, but nothing more.

It doesn’t seem to matter that you’re not in the same room, Mobius appears to be reading your mind. “The two of you did put a lot of effort into this little game...” he muses, his attention drifting back to Loki. He reaches up and trails two fingers along Loki’s jaw, then continuing the caress down his throat, stopping at the edge on his shirt collar. Loki shudders visibly. “And I’m not really a vengeful man.”

Loki shakes his head. “You’re not.”

Mobius smiles, first at Loki, then at the camera. “We’re having words later, the three of us. I put up with way too much around here.” He sighs, throws the jacket back off and then, with a grace that people might not expect from a man his age, he sinks to his knees in front of Loki.

You make a sound very similar to the one Loki makes – surprise, arousal - which is disturbing, but fuck it, you don’t care. As Mobius slides a hand up Loki’s leg, from ankle to thigh, you relax back in your seat, idly returning to your own task.

“You do look exquisite,” Mobius murmurs, pressing a kiss to the inside of Loki’s thigh before grabbing his ankle and urging him to lift his leg. Loki complies, hooking his knee over Mobius’ shoulder, disturbing his balance for a second before he leans back against the shelves again to steady himself.

And Mobius was right earlier: he’s not the type to seek petty revenge. If he was, he would have made sure Loki had lifted the leg that would cut off your view of the proceedings. He did not. You can’t help but smile, knowing that for all his protests, he’s more than willing to indulge you and Loki both.

Loki lets out a relived sigh and throws his head back when Mobius finally takes his cock into his mouth. He doesn’t reach for him, but you can see his calf muscles tense as he digs his heel into Mobius’ back, urging him on. Mobius obviously doesn’t need the encouragement, he’s already falling into the rhythm Loki prefers during oral sex, and yes, you’ve got that one down as well. Gods help you.

There’s no teasing involved, just a single-minded effort to get Loki off, and it’s working like a charm. You struggle to catch up without the physical presence of another person to stimulate you, but Loki’s sounds of pleasure help you get there soon enough. Just as you hover on the edge, he comes in Mobius’ mouth with a ragged moan, and you follow seconds after, inadvertently closing your eyes and whimpering out loud as your climax crashes over you. When you open them again, still panting, Mobius has already got Loki back on both feet, and is pulling his skirt down into place. Loki is breathing just as heavily as you, eyes focused on Mobius, a look of reverence on his face. When Mobius casually picks Loki’s panties off the floor and puts them in his pocket, Loki can’t help but look pleased.

The groan Mobius makes when he gets to his feet is all show, you know that. You can see the glimmer of mischief in his eyes as he tells Loki, “The things I do for you, kitten... I should get a raise.”

Loki laughs, adjusting his tie and trying to push his hair back into its previous, professional style. “I’m sure Renslayer would approve it, if you asked.”

Mobius doesn’t take the bait. “Very funny. Now, I’m going to go back to work. If you want to go... change... that would obviously be acceptable.”

Loki straightens, a little wobbly on his feet as he closes the short distance between them and gives Mobius a long kiss before saying, “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.”

***

You make it to Mobius’ apartment before Loki through a combination of it being a little closer to the security department and Loki still wearing his high heels, which slows him down a little. By the time he enters you’re already naked and getting the shower running. You let him push you up against bathroom door, kissing him with barely-tempered desperation as you help him out of his clothes. He fucks you in the shower, the sound of the water doing absolutely nothing to drown out the noises you both make, now completely unhindered by any potential discovery. After you’ve both come – you first, screaming – him second, biting down on your shoulder - you carefully work the plug out of him and throw it on the floor of the shower stall. Mobius will find it later and disapprove of the rude treatment of his precious toys, but you’re honestly too busy trading messy kisses with Loki under the water that never runs cold no matter how long you stay under it to care what Mobius will say.

Getting dressed is slow going simply because you keep getting distracted by each other, giggling like teenagers, but in the end, you have to put a stop to the fun, even though watching Loki putting on clothes, especially his regular clothes, is a lot less fun than watching him take them off.

By the time you’re back in your uniform and Loki is buckling his belt, both of you have calmed down. You help him straighten his tie. “This was fun,” you say, aiming for a casual tone and missing the mark by quite a bit.

Loki chuckles. “Yes. I do believe I will keep that skirt.”

“Maybe get your panties back from Mobius at some point.”

He smiles. “Maybe. At some point.”

You give him a final, light kiss. “Back to work, Variant.”

“Yes, Agent.”

[the-hidden-pages]

Peeping Tom: Adrian Chase/Vigilante x Fem!Reader SMUT

I’ve seen a couple of fics now touching on Adrian being a bit of a voyeur. I’d like to first agree with you all, but raise you that the Reader is also a complete exhibitionist. Again, a bit darker then I’m used to writing for, but it seems this dork is bringing out a lot of my hidden interests.

I’d also like to apologize for any errors that may exist, this fic was primarily written with wine in my system, likely explaining how horny it it. Very much self-indulgent, not at all a real-world scenario, just pure filth that smut fics are meant to be.

Enjoy 4.9k+ words of my mind being horny for this moron.

Synopsis: After meeting a customer in Fennel Fields, Adrian follows her home, struck by her obvious perfection. Obsessed, he continues to stalk her as Vigilante. Until one night, the tables turn, and he receives a little more than he bargains for.

Warnings: NSFW. Unprotected Sex. Clear Obsession. Bondage. Stalker!Adrian. Voyeurism. In a turn of events, Exhibitionist Reader! Consensual Non-Consent (Adrian definitely non-consensually watching her, but Reader doesn’t end up minding and sort of knows, so, use your better judgment there). Adrian being Adrian.

It started innocent; Adrian swears it to this day. An innocent crush, that’s all it was. He had been working another dull shift at Fennel Fields, mind in a haze of daydreams, old D&D plots he had never fully worked out back in his prime of playing, and work that had to be done that night as Vigilante. There was also music playing in the back of his mind. Crab Rave. He hadn’t been able to shake it all day. Then you had walked in, and it was like the record player that was his mind came to a screeching halt.

You were perfect.

Everything about you. Your eyes drew him right in when they met his. Your hair looked soft, touchable. Your skin, funnily enough, also looked touchable. Your neck looked markable. Your lips looked kissable. You sat at a booth alone, and he worried for a moment that someone would be joining you. A date, a partner. But then you pulled out your laptop and his heart sung – you were there to work. You’d be staying. He noticed the stickers on your computer – icons from classic video games, an N64 controller, a D20, a Pokémon (was it your favourite, he wondered?), a skull.

You were perfect.

His thoughts were of you his entire shift. He snuck a glance as often as he could when his coworkers weren’t looking, when he was certain you were focused on your computer. Adrian wondered what you were doing, your fingers typing so quickly, your eyes never leaving the screen even as you shovelled forkfuls of food into your mouth.  It couldn’t be something illegal, could it? Planning a drug exchange, stealing personal data, plotting a heist? No, you couldn’t do that. You were perfect. But he had to check.

Luckily, he had the excuse. On one of his rounds, he stopped at your table, gesturing to your now empty plate. “Can I clear this for you?” You looked up quickly, eyes filled with surprise for a moment, before filling with kindness. Adrian wondered what those eyes would look like full of gratitude, of love, of lust. Pleading, begging, crying, rolled to the back of your head – “I’d appreciate that, thank you,” you sigh, flopping back in the booth with your arm coming up to rest along the back of it. Adrian reached for the plate, wondering what your arm would feel like holding him, wrapped around him in ecstasy. How would they look, tied above your head? “You know much about writing there…ah…?” You were looking at him expectantly, waiting for something. Maybe his name? “Adrian?” “Adrian,” you repeat it back warmly. He repressed a shudder. Your lips formed around his name so nicely. How would it sound whispered lovingly, screaming in pleasurable agony – “You know much about writing, Adrian?” He shrugged, shifting the weight of the basket of dirty dishes he was carrying slightly. “Not much officially. I mean, I watch movies, everyone watches movies. Played a lot of D&D back in the day, but it wasn’t exactly a writing career.” You smile fondly. Adrian wants to see that smile forever. “I used to play a lot too. Haven’t had the time much these days. Campaigns used to really get the creative juices flowing…but now…” you gesture to your screen. “The one minute I get to write anything for myself, and I’m stuck with three shitty lines. It’s just not coming, y’know?” All I know is I’d like to see you cumming, preferably on my cock. Adrian didn’t notice that he hadn’t responded until you gave a small, shy laugh, and shook your head. “Sorry, I shouldn’t keep you from your job. You’re not paid to hear my writer’s block.” “I don’t mind,” Adrian supplied quickly, eyes wide. You wanted to stop talking to him. “I just, ah, don’t really have good advice. Maybe, watch some stupid movies? It’ll give your head a break and give you an excuse to write stupid shit. Not that I think your shit is stupid! I’m sure it’s very smart shit. But sometimes what stops us from taking a shit is the fear that our shit will be stupid. So just shitting at all is half the battle!” He ended cheerfully. You were looking at him curiously, and for a moment he wondered if he had royally fucked up. But then a wide smile split across your face, and a giggle escaped you. “Adrian, was it? I think you’ve just inspired something, Adrian. Thank you.” Your hands posed over your keyboard then, and Adrian nodded, grinning. He spun around and resisted the urge to skip away. He inspired you. The sexy, nerdy girl in the restaurant was inspired by him. He hummed an aimless tune for the rest of his shift. You really were perfect.

This really started innocent, but you were just so perfect he couldn’t let you slip away. You had stuck around for the duration of his shift. By the time the restaurant closed, he was able to clock out. It wasn’t like he had planned to follow you home, Adrian rationalized as he crept behind you, a block or so between you, just out of sight. He didn’t plan it at all. But you two left at the same time, and you were walking alone at night! As Vigilante, he had to protect you. It was his job! That night, he found your house. It was completely innocent as he burned the address into his mind. Completely innocent as he noticed that you evidently lived alone. Completely innocent when he noticed that you kept a spare key inside a potted plant hanging outside the door. He would’ve left it at that, he really would have. Turned around and left your perfect self to the realm of his fantasies.

But on his return home, curiosity had him exploring the perimeter of your home. You had a backyard, he noticed. A small enclosure, contained within a fence (a fence easily scaled by him, but of course not by others). He peeked around, noticing the beginnings of a small garden (were you new to town?) and an old tree standing tall and proud. The backyard looked in on a couple of glass doors, leading into what he guessed was the kitchen. You even had a small hot tub, and Adrian grinned. He was impressed at what you could afford. You were smart. You could look after yourself. Of course you could, you were perfect.

When Adrian eventually left, he swore that he wouldn’t go back. The resolve lasted for roughly 3 days. 3 days of his mind being consumed by this beautiful stranger. Fantasies of tying you down and tormenting you as Vigilante. Fantasies of you taking care of him as Adrian. He wanted to know everything about you. So really, what was the harm in going back? He wouldn’t hurt you, he rationalized. He only wanted to watch, to learn. He climbed carefully, he had to. You couldn’t know he was there. But when he reached high enough, he could’ve fallen right out.

The tree overlooked your room. Your curtains were open – hell, they had every reason to be. No one should be in the tree enclosed within your garden, and that was really the only way anyone could ever see in. The opened curtains and soft reading lamp, however, gave Adrian clear view into your bedroom. Absentmindedly, Adrian vowed that he would kill anyone else who dared to climb this tree with his bare hands. There was plenty for him to notice about your personal space. Books scattered about, a dresser half-open and overflowing with clothes, some tapestries on the walls. But his eyes were fixed on key details, pivotal details, important details. There was a large bed in the centre of your room. Queen sized, maybe King. He could only imagine how nice it would be to fuck you on it, to hold you afterwards, to wake up in it. But there, on the plush, dark sheets, was you. Stripped down to nothing but a black lace bra and panty set. Adrian could have died then, happily. You were sipping on a glass of wine, scrolling absentmindedly through your phone. Adrian’s mind couldn’t help but wander as he noticed the red stain of wine on your lips. How would that red look elsewhere? Wine dripping between your cleavage, staining as it goes. A red that looked so much like blood. He could see himself approaching you after a tough mission, covered in blood of those he had killed. You wouldn’t flinch away, you’d just approach him, hold him, tear the mask off his face and kiss him. You’d pull away, that blood red coating parts of you now. Unfazed, you’d pull him to your bed. He breathed sharply as the brief scene ended in his mind. He shifted his weight, only to realize the growing discomfort between his legs.

Fuck, he was already hard.

He was going to leave, he really was. The image of you lying there was already more than enough fuel for the fire. He was ready to leave, to jerk one out when he got home, to use the thoughts to keep him going for another week or so, before another visit to your home.

But then…

Then…

A droplet of wine escaped from the glass, landing on your upper left breast, before trailing down between your cleavage. Adrian froze. He couldn’t hear you, but he could see the annoyed sigh in your movements as you set the glass and your phone aside. Carelessly, mindlessly, you dip your finger between your boobs and trace the line of red, scooping the stray wine up and sucking it off your finger. All Adrian can do is look in awe as you wrap your wine-stained lips around that finger, lingering there for a little too long. His hand finds its way to the front of his pants, attempting to relieve some pressure as he observes. You’re so sexy. You’re perfect. You’re made for him, it’s like you could read his mind – You seem to sigh again, only this time, you reach your hand behind you and unclasp your bra, removing and tossing the garment to the side of the room. The last small, rational part of Adrian’s brain wonders if you had gotten wine on the fabric. But the rest of him is screaming that this is a show made just for him.

And you’re so perfect, so wonderful, because you prove him right.

Your hands come up, first to touch where the wine had touched you, but soon choosing to wander, gently cupping each breast, squeezing, and kneading. You lean back on the bed, thighs clenched as you work, and Adrian notices how they tighten and how your hips start to twitch upward slightly as you begin toying with your nipples. “Oh, fuck,” Adrian groans quietly, immediately going to lower his pants, hand wrapping around his throbbing cock. Your mouth seems to part in a moan, and the man curses that he can’t hear the sound. He freezes briefly when your eyes wander right past the tree where he’s hiding, over to just beside the window. You seem to be staring, and by the way your legs spread, and your hand moves to rub over the lace, you seem to be getting more worked up. Adrian wonders what’s there. There’s no light to indicate a TV or porn. Maybe a poster? Or maybe it was a mirror. That had to be it, he decided, as you shifted in what seemed to be a method of posing yourself. You had to be watching yourself. He could’ve laughed. You were perfect. You liked being watched. He wondered if you’d like to know you were putting on such a good show for him. You shifted once again, now moving too slowly, teasingly pull the black lace down your legs. Rolling over, you reached for the drawer beside your bed. Adrian pulled his eyes away from the glimpse of your wet folds to focus on what you were pulling out. There, from your drawer, was a large purple vibrator. His hand worked faster as his imagination conjured up ideas of what else could be hidden in that drawer. Vibrators, dildos. Maybe you had handcuffs, a blindfold. A whip? A knife?

Fuck, how perfect could you be?

He watched intently as you moved the toy slowly, not to your cunt, but to your mouth. He could’ve drooled as your perfect lips spread, purple silicone sliding between them as you began to suck, coating the toy with spit. Adrian’s hand slowed, and he whimpered, matching your pace as you slowly fucked your own mouth with the toy. Soon, you moved it again, and he could see the tell-tale light of the toy indicating that it was on. You trailed it down your body slowly, but picking up speed, clearly growing tired of your own teasing. Adrian wouldn’t let you get away with it that easily, he thought. He’d make you work for it, make you cry for it. He wasn’t too disappointed that you picked up the speed though – after all, this is what he wanted to see. When the vibrator finally reached your clit, your head tilted back, and he could see your eyes roll closed. Your hips jerked in uneven patterns against the toy, hand moving in tandem as you attempted to find the rhythm that would get you there. Hand pumping faster, Adrian leaned forward as far as he could. Your hand blocked most of your pussy, but he could still see your breasts bounce, your gaping mouth, your clear ecstasy. He wanted to be the one that caused that face, those sounds he imagined. Watching intently, he saw your free hand move up your body. He thought nothing of it, waiting for it to curve around your tit, the ones he so badly wanted to touch.

Instead, your hand curled around your own throat, and visibly tightened.

Adrian groaned sharply, a series of “fucks” escaping him as he spilled ropes of cum into his own hands. His eyes screwed shut, forever burning the memory of you choking yourself into his mind.

Even he will admit that after that night, it was no longer innocent. Every night that he could spare, he was at your window. Watching you exist, watching you dance around your kitchen, watching you touch yourself at night. He began to learn your schedule. What times you’d leave for groceries when you’d disappear for a walk to clear your head. When you were in a real rut after a rough day, maybe after a meeting gone wrong or a bad case of writer’s block, you’d disappear for nearly two hours, walking aimlessly through Evergreen’s streets. Adrian would follow you those days. Protecting you. Other days, however, he wouldn’t follow. He’d watch keenly as you’d lock the door behind you, cloth grocery bags under your arm, and wait for you to be out of sight of your home.

The first day he took the spare key from the plant pot and unlocked your door, his hands were shaking. But he had to know more. And so, he entered, exploring your home with wide, eager eyes. It didn’t take him long to make his way to your room. First, he laid down on your bed, inhaling deeply at the scent of you that was embedded within the sheets. Then, he glanced around the room, taking in the large mirror that sat beside the window he so frequently watched you from. So, you were watching yourself, he noted with a grin. Knowing he didn’t likely have much time, he stood up, fixing the bed quickly, before preparing to leave your home. That was, until he noticed a stray pair of panties lying on the top of a pile of likely dirty clothes.

He wasn’t going to take them.

He really wasn’t.

But the temptation was so great that he couldn’t not pick them up. And when he did, he removed his mask, just for a moment, and held the lace to his nose, inhaling deeply. Fuck, you even smelled perfect. How was that fair on him?

He left your home that day, hard as a rock, mask skewed from rushing to put it back on, your panties stuffed into a pocket in his suit. He would never keep a pair for long. Only for a few days, to sniff or bite as he touched himself. On nights that were particularly rough for him, he’d take a pair up to the tree as he watched you, cumming quick and hard in his palm as he imagined it being your own hand, your mouth, your pussy… Falling steadily into his routine, Adrian had grown quite comfortable, following you at nights as Vigilante. And as a bonus to him, you frequented Fennel Fields more and more as the days went by. Eyes on your laptop, none the wiser that Adrian adored you, needed you, breathed for you. So unaware that he would die for you, kill for you, that he knew that you were perfect.

Adrian had never expected to be caught off guard. One night, however, he was.

It was a warm night, he appreciated. He was sweltering in his suit, but the breeze filtering through your open window was calming somehow. He was returning a pair of blue lace of yours, rummaging around your room for the next pair of yours to borrow. Glancing around, he noticed your panty drawer was partially open. Opening it fully, he noticed a set he didn’t recognize. Teal blue, with grey accents. His colours. So enraptured by how perfect you were, he didn’t notice the figure creeping in your open window. With a sharp blow to the head, Adrian’s world went dark.

An unknown amount of time later, Adrian slowly blinked into consciousness, alarm bells ringing in his head. Quickly, he ran through his checklist.

Mask?

Still on.

Hands?

Bound above his head.

Body?

Propped up, sitting against the dresser he had been rummaging through.

Weapons?

Not within reach.

Attacker?

That was…you.

Sitting there on your bed, your arms were slightly behind you, holding your weight and pushing your chest forward. Your head tilted to the side as you examined him, watching as he came to. Adrian took in the silk robe you were wearing – teal, he noticed with sick glee, despite the circumstances. It was thin, lace patterns spreading down your arms and the tops of your thighs. He took in your bare legs, crossed, top foot bouncing, black heels extending your legs unfairly, adding a hint of spice to your ensemble.

What dark fantasy did he just wake up in, Adrian wondered in a daze.

Your head rolled, tilting in the other direction as a calm smile crossed your face. “So. You’re the fairy that’s been stealing my underwear, huh?” “I, uh, no. Not at all. Not me,” Adrian spoke, shifting in his binds. As hot as you were, he was aware of the danger in the situation. You could figure out who he was, after all. And that wouldn’t be good – “Mhm. You know, you could’ve just asked for my number that first night in Fennel Fields. I probably would’ve given it to you. Save you climbing my tree several times a week.” “You would’ve?” Your smile grew. Adrian’s brain caught up with his mouth. “I mean, uh, I wasn’t – What’s Fennel – I mean, I wasn’t.” You giggle. Were it not for the situation, Adrian would’ve wanted to bottle the sound. “I’m amazed your identity is as secret as it is there. Adrian, wasn’t it?” His heart twisted and flipped. He loved how you said his name. You shouldn’t know his name. “Nope.” “No?” you question, light sarcasm laced in your voice. “No!” Adrian chirped back, voice falsely confident. You hum, and your legs uncross slowly.

The tied-up Vigilante feels his cock twitch.

You aren’t wearing anything under the robe.

It twitches again as your heeled foot presses harshly into his shoulder, pressing him further from you and deeper into the wood of your dresser. Perfect, so sickly perfect for him – “So, what do I do with my Peeping Tom here,” you muse, eyes never leaving the red visor. Adrian gulped. “The smart thing would be to call the cops. Or even…” from behind you, you pull out a gun – Adrian’s gun, he notes with a panic – and aim it directly between his eyes. “…take care of you myself. You’re a public menace, after all. Wanted for murder in several states. Even if most of it is justified. Except maybe the graffiti thing, I think that’s a little harsh.” “They’re breaking the law – ” Adrian grunts as you dig the heel of your stiletto deeper into his shoulder. “So were you. Breaking and entering. Theft. By your code, I should be killing you here and now.”

For once, Adrian was silent.

You sigh, setting the gun down beside you on the bed. “Still, if you are Adrian, I’d hate to kill such a cute face. And who would watch my little shows, if you weren’t around?” “Wh-“ “So, you have some options there, Vigilante. Stay tied up and quiet, and when I’m done, I’ll let you go back to creeping around and watching me from outside. Or confess that you’re Adrian Chase, and I’ll untie you and let you have your way with me, anytime, anywhere.”

A beat of silence as your words sunk in.

Another as Adrian processed them.

A final one, as his incredulous voice slipped past his lips.

“A stranger watches you get off through your window almost every night, and you ask him to fuck you?!” “Tall talk coming from the fella with his nose in a stranger’s panty drawer.” You grin, enjoying the flustered silence that had once again overtaken the man. “Come on. You’re obviously a little crazy. But so am I. And, stop me if I’m wrong here, but I think we like that in each other.” You lean back, slowly untying the sash from your silk robe. “So, tell me. What name should I be moaning while I touch myself?” Adrian inhaled sharply, eyes following every movement. “Vigilante, I guess.” You hum with disappointment, a single finger trailing up and down your thigh. “Not quite the answer I was looking for, but I’m sure we’ll get there in the end.” Your legs spread, and Adrian’s mouth goes dry as you continue, not for the first time, touching yourself in front of him. “I noticed you the first night, you know. Just watching when I spilled that wine. I should’ve been scared, really. But it just got me so hot, knowing I had such a captivated audience.” Adrian moaned unabashedly as you slid two of your fingers into your pussy. He was close enough now that he could finally see how wet you were, the glistening slick dripping down onto those black sheets. “I wondered if you would break in, that night. Just force open the window and fuck me. I was a little disappointed that you didn’t, but it was so, so fun that you. kept coming back for more.”

This was torture, being so, so close to your perfect self, but being unable to touch.

“I could keep guessing, if you’d like?” You tease, a dreamy smile on your face as you watch him watch you, fingers pumping slowly. “What?” Adrian croaked out, eyes darting between your disappearing fingers and your eyes. “Well, if not Adrian, what name should I be begging for? Hmm? I mean, I’m getting close, and I’d really like something to work with here.” Your fingers worked faster, and Adrian watched as your eyes fluttered shut. Your words came out in soft drawls and moans, and he could’ve cried as you spoke. “Mmm…maybe…Steven? No, that doesn’t sound right. John…Evan…Oh, Chris –“ The sound of wood creaking rang loudly through the room as your eyes opened, a wicked grin on your face. “Didn’t like that one, did you?”

Silence.

You couldn’t help but push it, knowing he was so close to breaking. He wanted a show, after all. And you would provide. “Chris…fuck, right there, Chris!”

A loud breaking sound could be heard as part of your dresser snapped from the weight of Adrian pulling against his restraints. Without warning, your fingers were pulled from you, your arms roughly pinned behind your back with a single gloved hand. With the other, he reached up to yank the mask off his head, fumbling for his glasses in the hidden compartment in his suit. Your victorious smile didn’t last long, as you were roughly maneuvered to face the mirror in front of your bed, watching Adrian behind you, eyes dark and full of some crazed emotion. “Adrian –” “That’s right,” he cuts of whatever you were about to say, lips and teeth making their way to your neck, not hesitating to tear into it. “Mine. Not his. Not anyone else’s. You’re mine.” He continues to mumble, babbling as he kisses and sucks and bites at your neck, clothed cock grinding against your bare and weeping cunt. “Mine, finally mine. So perfect and all mine. You wanted this, you asked for this. Now you’re mine to fuck, not just to watch.” “Yes, please, Adrian just fuck me.” An unhinged giggle tore through the man’s throat as he moved the hand not restraining yours to his pants, releasing just enough to let his cock out. “Want you to watch. Want you to watch me split you open. Me, no one else.” Your eyes met his emerald ones behind those wire-y frames. Dark curls clung to a sweaty forehead, and for a moment, a brief moment, all you could think about was how utterly pretty this man was. And then he was pulling you down, filling you swiftly, without mercy. Your mouth opened, a high-pitched whine escaping you. Slowly, too slowly, he moved you up and down, controlling you with one hand on your waist, the other still with a vice-grip on your wrists. His eyes have left yours from the mirror, instead looking down to watch where your bodies meet, seemingly in a trance as he watched his dick disappear into your wetness. “Fuck, you’re a dream. So much better than I imagined…” He picked up his pace, pulling you tighter towards him. “Shit, you’re so tight. Come on, baby, you’ve been working yourself for so long. Tell me what I can do, let me make you cum.” “Oh, fuck, faster, harder, anything Adrian. Please, anything you want, I just need more – fuck.” Moans are escaping you frequently now as you’re bounced up and down in his lap, hands controlling your every move, Adrian thrusting into you as though you were nothing more than a fleshlight for him to use. “Shit, yes, Adrian, please…” A feral wail starts and breaks in your throat as Adrian’s hand makes its way upwards, lightly cutting your air supply. “Look at you,” he croons, hand clenched around your throat and forcing your head up to look at yourself in the mirror, and image of pure debauchery. “You’re sick for wanting this, you know. Begging me to fuck you harder, like I haven’t been hiding outside your home for weeks, watching you, following you. It just proves that you’re perfect, made for me. So, fucking, perfect.” “Fuck, Adrian, please,” you struggle to gasp out, feeling your end approaching. “Please what? Tell me what you need, baby, I’ll give you everything, you’ll never need anyone else –“ he rambled on as he wildly thrust into you, nearing his own peak. “Bite, please, Adrian!” Broken moans escape you, a litany of his name and unintelligible words, as his teeth sink deep into your shoulder, breaking the skin. And for him, the combination of the copper tang in his mouth in tandem with your clenching, spasming walls send him over the edge, finally shooting his cum deep inside of you.

Where it belongs, Adrian thought with glee.

Sweaty, panting, and spent, neither of you have the energy to move far. Instead, you both collapse on your bed, you on your back, Adrian clinging to you, half on top, half to your side. He held you tightly, like he was worried you’d run away the minute you returned to your senses.

You absentmindedly begin to play with his hair as you both catch your breath.

Adrian eventually spoke, voice muffled into your neck. “Would you have really given me your number? If I had asked that first night?” You continue to run your fingers through his brown curls, attempting to restore some order to it. “In a heartbeat.” A beat. “Could I, like, still get that at some point?” You snort at the absurdity of the situation. “Yes, Adrian, you can have my number.” “Wow, the whole stalking thing really paid off –” “Go to sleep, Adrian.” “Wait,” his head lifted, and a soft, lazy kiss was pressed to your lips. His were chapped, slightly rough, but you couldn’t help but melt into the gentle affection, so vastly different from what was shown to you before. He broke away from you with a gentle smile, any hint of crazy long gone from his eyes, replaced only with warmth and adoration. He nuzzled his head back into the crook of your neck, grinning like a cat that ate a canary.

“Perfect.”

[theonethinginlife]

Breaking Down the Amanda/Declan Scene (23x10) - Part 2

Part 1 here. 

Now that we’ve established Amanda is the best mom and Declan not being there was what was best for Jesse, let’s get to the part I have mixed feelings about. 

My expectations for them even addressing this were super low, so I was so glad to hear him even saying this out loud. It was inappropriate and he shouldn’t have done it. He absolutely knew better. 

I didn’t like that they had her cut him off; he should’ve fully apologized for it and she should have accepted. 

But, the way Kelli played it made me think that she’s come across this idea before (i.e. probably from Hanover) and doesn’t want to hear it from him too (even though she should). Amanda does absolutely hate being coddled and the way she says “I’m an adult” makes me think she feels like he’s infantilizing her ability to make decisions, which is why I think she brushed it off so quickly.  Amanda had enough trouble accepting what Patton did to her; I think dealing with the tricky issue of what happened with Declan would be even harder because to her, it probably feels even grayer. Yes, she’s an SVU detective, but as we saw with Liv, it’s really hard to accept that something that happened to you personally that you thought was completely consensual might not have been. 

Still would’ve liked to see her let him apologize and acknowledge it was wrong, though, but it does make sense for the character that she didn’t. 

Really glad they had Murphy acknowledge he was the one who left, because saying you’ll support someone and then jetting off back to deep undercover in Serbia is the same as abandoning them. 

If he wanted to actually be a father, he could’ve made better choices (why I’m thankful for the use of the word “mistake”). But he didn’t. 

Again, just an appreciation of Kelli’s face acting here. You can see it in her eyes just how much Amanda wanted to hear something like that for a very long time. 

Remember that she was practically alone in New York (she and Liv weren’t close yet, Nick left, she barely knew Sonny), pregnant for the first time, and her first choice for a support system (her mom) completely collapsed. 

She grew up seeing her mom chase after men who were bad for her and Amanda talks about wanting to do the exact opposite of her mother, so she was never going to ask Declan for help even if she needed it, especially after he just got right back on the plane after she told him she was pregnant with his baby. 

So for him to come back and say that probably means a lot to her—a man who treated her very wrongly actually acknowledging that he did (instead of lying, gaslighting, denying, etc.)—even if it’s far too late for it to mean anything for Jesse. 

Her saying “it took me some time to figure out how to think about it” also makes me think that she probably did process the fact that he did abandon her and Jesse (again, hopefully in therapy with Hanover) and that this conversation isn’t coming after years of completely denying what happened between them. 

And now, for the best moment of the whole episode: 

When Amanda was with Bucci, she talked about how terrified she was that her girls would grow up thinking they don’t deserve to be happy. 

Having her acknowledge not only that Jesse is happy, but that Amanda is happy too (and therefore Jesse is seeing that she deserves to grow up and be happy) is so, so important and speaks to just how far Amanda has come on her own. 

A huge part of that, obviously, is her relationship with Dominick and how it’s developed over time, but even wouldn’t be possible without her accepting that she can choose happiness and be in a relationship. 

I’m glad this ended mostly here (Declan is one of the last people who deserves to know if she’s in a relationship, so I didn’t really appreciate him asking the question) and there was no offer of him seeing Jesse, because at this point, he doesn’t deserve to, and the way he was talking makes me think he understands that. 

As much as I love Sonny, I’m glad he wasn’t there for this conversation, because Amanda deserved to have it with Declan alone. 

The biggest change I would make to the episode is having a scene where Amanda goes home to Jesse (especially bc we got a Noah scene), because it would just reinforce how strong their bond is. 

In conclusion: 

1. Amanda Rollins is the best mom, and she’s been doing it almost completely by herself the whole time. 

2. Jesse doesn’t ever need to be around Declan (please for the love of God, take Murphy out of her name in the credits). 

3. Jesse does have a dad who’s been there for her since she was born, and his name is Dominick “Sonny” Carisi Jr. 

[writethelifeyouwant]

Runaway | Ch 22

Summary: Instead of attending her spot at a top college in the fall, Y/N runs away from her home on the East Coast and ends up on a city bench in L.A. – lost, cold, and utterly alone. When one of her favourite actors, Jared Padalecki, passes her on his way home from a club with his best friend Jensen, while Y/N is getting ready to sleep in the street on that bench, he finds he can't just walk by.

Pairing: Jared Padalecki x Reader Rating: 18+ Chapter Warnings: trauma victim, extended hospitalisation due to trauma, trauma victim triggered Tags: AU, slow burn, rumours about sexual misconduct, angst, friends fighting, making up, smoking (tobacco) Word Count: 2,502

Series masterlist | Read ahead on my website

Jared strode out of the hospital as quickly as he could without actually running. He felt horrible. Sandra had promised him it wasn’t his fault, that these things happen sometimes, but he still felt awful; triggering a reaction like that for Meredith hadn’t happened for nearly a year, he’d hoped she was past it by now, but evidently not. He wondered what exactly had set it off this time. The only thing he could think of was the videos he was playing out loud on his phone. Maybe the unfamiliar male voice had frightened her when he let the video of Morgan play.

That reminded him, he still didn’t know what that video was about. Now ensconced in the safety of his car, he pulled the app back up and rewound the video to the beginning. Fuck, he thought as he watched it through. This was not good.

“The allegations made against me are something that I’m, of course, taking very seriously.” The Morgan in the video spoke soberly to the camera. “But, I would appreciate the opportunity to tell my side of the story.

“Starting with the accusation of assault at the party in Europe. I’m not going to reveal her name because it seems she wants to remain anonymous and that’s absolutely fine, but this accusation is something that she and I have discussed in the past. I’ve apologised profusely, and I thought we had put this behind us.

“We were both drinking at that party, drinking too much, really, and I wholeheartedly believed at the time that what we were doing was consensual. I was devastated to learn later that she didn’t feel the same, and I am incredibly sorry for any pain the incident caused, but we both agreed that it was an honest mistake, one that I take full responsibility for, but a mistake nonetheless. I am saddened that she has gone to the press and, in my opinion, misrepresented the incident, but obviously she has a right to her own story and I don’t want to silence her if she feels the need to speak about it.”

Jesus Christ.

“In response to the allegation of sexual harrassment on the set of Paris Remembered, this has come as a massive shock to me. I don’t remember anything of the sort happening on that set, and I don’t know the identity of the person who is accusing me of this behaviour. I am planning on cooperating fully with any investigation that results from this accusation, however, it is my impression at this time that this is a false allegation made against me by someone looking to capitalise on the publicity of the incident I’ve already addressed.

“Thank you for watching, and listening to my side of the story. I hope you all have a stellar weekend.”

The video ended and the screen went black. Jared let out a shaky breath. He really couldn’t believe it. He’d never seen Morgan act inappropriately towards anyone, on set or off. He sounded really upset and genuinely apologetic about the incident he owned up to, and Jared could see how easily things like that can be skewed by the media, particularly in this day and age. But the sexual harrassment allegation just made no sense to him, that wasn’t like Morgan at all.

Sighing heavily, Jared ran his hands through his hair to shake off the tension that was tightening up his whole body. He needed a drink. Badly.

Starting up his car he reversed out of his spot and weaved through the parking lot to turn back onto the main road towards the centre of town. He didn’t have a particular place in mind, so he stopped at the first bar he passed. It was just going on evening, so the place wasn’t very crowded yet, and that suited Jared just fine.

Walking up to the bar, he dropped himself heavily onto a stool and asked the bartender for a beer.

“Can you be a bit more specific?” the bartender asked, half joking.

“Dealer’s choice,” Jared grunted. He didn’t particularly care what he drank, so long as it helped him relax a little bit.

“A bit early for the dark broody stranger at a bar act, isn’t it?” A familiar voice spoke just behind his shoulder, and Jared turned to see Jensen standing behind him. His hands were in his pockets, and he was hovering a few steps further away than he normally would be, clearly unsure if Jared would want to see him.

Jared didn’t answer him.

“Are you okay, man?” Jensen asked cautiously, taking a step closer, and Jared heaved a sigh. If anyone would understand what a crappy day he’d had, it was Jensen, and he could really use someone to talk to right now.

“I uh,” Jared cleared his throat when his voice came out scratchy, then tried again. “I just visited Mere in the hospital.” He paused, and Jensen nodded understandingly, taking the unoccupied seat beside his friend.

“Was it one of her bad days?” Jensen asked sympathetically, and Jared nodded. “I’m sorry, man. I know how tough that is on you.”

“I just feel so awful that I can’t do anything about it,” Jared sighed, taking a sip from the drink that the bartender had deposited in front of him a few seconds ago. “It’s pretty shitty when the best thing you can do to help your little sister is not be there.”

“Yeah, it is,” Jensen agreed. “Fuckin’ sucks, dude.” Hesitantly, he reached out and patted his hand on Jared’s shoulder in a gesture of solidarity. Jared was grateful for the contact, after having to be so careful in the hospital not to touch Meredith, being able to interact so casually with Jensen was a relief.

“Thanks, man,” Jared gave his friend a tight smile. They both knew there wasn’t much else they could say about it, this was just the way it was now, but having someone else who understood what was going on was comforting in and of itself.

“Did you want to talk about it at all?”

“There’s not much to say about it,” Jared shrugged, taking another drink. “It was probably my fault she got triggered, I was watching this video on my phone out loud, I think hearing the new voice upset her.”

“What video were you watching?” Jensen raised his brow sceptically.

“First it was a press interview of Quinn and me for the movie, but she started screaming during the video with Morgan,” Jared explained.

“Has she ever done anything like that before?” Jensen probed, and Jared shrugged again.

“Not with a video, but we both know how she reacts around men. She was reading so she probably wasn’t expecting to hear a new voice, I think it just startled her.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Jensen shrugged too. He certainly wasn’t a psychiatrist, and Meredith’s condition had always been pretty volatile since the attack. If Jared didn’t think it was that unusual than who was he to say it was. He just felt awful that his best friend had to deal with any of this. Not being able to have a conversation with your sister, or even hug her, he couldn’t imagine just how difficult that was. And he knew Jared still blamed himself for the whole thing, even though it was obviously not his fault.

“So,” Jared cleared his throat and changed the subject, not wanting to dwell on it any longer, “what have you been up to?”

“Still working on my story with Stanford,” Jensen answered mildly, now accepting his own beer from the barman.

“I uh, I’ve been a shit friend, man,” Jared grimaced, “I shouldn’t have blown up at you like that when we–”

“Hey, it’s cool,” Jensen interrupted. “I’m not saying I wasn’t right, but I shouldn’t have pushed so hard.”

“How about we don’t talk about that,” Jared laughed uncomfortably, “and you fill me in about the Stanford thing instead.”

“Deal,” Jensen laughed, tapping his drink against Jared in accord.

Jensen had done a load of work for these profiles. All in all there were six students that had potentially gotten into the college unfairly – four football players, one basketball player, and one swimmer.

“And they’re from all over the country, too,” Jensen explained. “I’m trying to figure out if this was like a network sort of thing or if they were all isolated incidents. It makes you wonder how long this sort of thing has been going on for, too. Like are we only just finding out about something that’s always happened, or was it a new idea that’s just massively backfired in a super public way.”

“I’ve certainly never heard of parents helping their kids cheat into school,” Jared mused. “Bribing the school maybe, like with donations or some shit, but actually paying people to take the SATs for their kids?”

“Yeah, it’s weird, right?” Jensen nodded, flipping through his notes. “And now the problem the schools are having is figuring out if the kids were in on it, and if they weren’t, what do they do? Let them stay or kick them out?”

“Yeah, that’s a tough one,” Jared agreed.

“There’s two kids at Stanford, the swimming girl and one of the football players, that I’m positive had no idea what their parents did. When I spoke to them they were so cut up about it, they really thought they’d gotten in on their own merits. Neither of them had fantastic grades but they thought their athletics got them in, not their parents faking their tests for them.”

“That fuckin’ sucks.”

“I know man,” Jensen sighed heavily. “The funny thing is, those two are both from D.C. They went to different private schools, and they didn’t know each other, but I’m looking into whether or not their parents are connected at all. From what I’ve been able to dig up it looks like the same service, or whatever you wanna call it, rigged their scores. Makes you wonder just how deep the whole operation goes.”

“Too bad Mrs. Powalski wasn’t in on it, she coulda faked me into college,’ Jared joked, and Jensen laughed.

“That old crone spent way too much money on cleaning products to be able to afford the kind of bribes these parents are paying,” Jensen scoffed. “Plus, if you’d gone to college, we wouldn’t have such top class cinema like Taking A Chance about to come to a theatre near you,” he grinned, and Jared gave him a playful punch on the shoulder.

“Shut up,” he rolled his eyes.

“You’re done filming now, right?”

“Yeah, we finished last night,” Jared nodded.

“Got any plans for what you’ll do next?” Jensen asked curiously, and Jared shook his head.

“I’ll have the PR stuff for this to keep me going for a bit, but I’m sure Cassie will have some stuff lined up for me when we get back to L.A.” Jared drained the last of his beer.

“Want to get another one?” Jensen asked, already getting up, but Jared stopped him.

“No, I still need to drive back.” He still felt a little keyed up though, and if he couldn’t have another drink… “Would you judge me massively if I went and bummed a cigarette off someone outside?” Jared shot his friend a guilty smile, and Jensen frowned.

“Yes,” he nodded seriously, but then softened a little, “but I’m also not gonna ditch you.”

Jared smiled gratefully and walked outside with Jensen. Luckily, there was an old guy outside already with a full packet of smokes, and he was happy to share.

“You know, smoking’s bad for you son,” he smiled sagely as he lit Jared up, and Jared laughed.

“If I make it to your age, I’ll be happy,” Jared laughed, and so did the old man.

“Happiness is all we can ask for, I suppose,” he smiled and tucked his lighter back into the breast pocket of his suit.

“Thanks,” Jared raised the cigarette in salute, and turned back to Jensen, being careful to exhale the smoke in the opposite direction of his friend.

“So, uh, Y/N/N asked me to come to your wrap party with her,” Jensen admitted nervously, and Jared looked up at him, startled. “I figured you should know, but, it’s just as friends, yeah?”

“Sure,” Jared nodded, processing the new information slowly. “I'm glad she’ll have a friend there, actually, I probably have to hang out with Quinn and the rest of the cast most of the night.”

“Yeah, I’ve uh, I’ve seen some stuff online,” Jensen hedged, looking for Jared to take him up on the hint. He didn’t. “You and Quinn seem to be spending a lot of time together,” he pressed on and Jared scoffed, taking another drag of his cigarette.

“Have we?” he answered evasively.

“Y/N/N mentioned it too,” Jensen stuck his hands in his pockets and crushed a stray cigarette butt under his boot, before looking back up at Jared, who was remaining silent. “Are you dating her, man?”

“Who?” Jared asked cheekily, and Jensen kicked his foot.

“Quinn. Are you dating Quinn?” Jensen asked gruffly.

“I–” Jared swallowed nervously. He wanted to tell Jensen the truth, he really did.

“Since when have you liked Quinn? You always said she was too Hollywood for you whenever I joked about it before,” Jensen accused mildly.

“I can change my mind,” Jared hedged.

“Yeah, I guess,” Jensen huffed. “You’ve clearly changed your mind about Y/N/N, then.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jared flicked his eyes to Jensen’s face angrily.

“It means that you might not want to admit it, or talk about it, but I’m not a fucking idiot. You like her, or you did, at least. But if you want to date Quinn, you can date Quinn, it’s not my business.” Jensen shrugged, something sharp beneath the neutrality of his tone that put Jared on edge.

“No, it’s not your business,” he snapped, taking a final drag of his cigarette and snuffing it out beneath his shoe. But then he sighed heavily. “I don’t want to fight about this with you.”

“Sorry,” Jensen grimaced, “I just… I really thought I knew you better than this.”

Jared gulped. The dejected look on Jensen’s face stung. He didn’t like thinking he’d hurt his best friend, especially when Jensen was absolutely right about this whole thing. He couldn’t deal with the disappointment he saw on the man’s face.

“You know me better than anyone,” Jared sighed, leaning back against the brick wall of the bar. “That’s why you can see through all my bullshit.” Jensen looked at him curiously, waiting for him to continue, and all the pent up frustration Jared had been feeling for the past few months about his fake relationship with Quinn, and his persistent feelings for his personal assistant, and his fear that Y/N/N was beginning to push him away, all came tumbling out.

Chapter 23 coming February 22nd or subscribe to my website to read up to Chapter 27!

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All SPN: @cemini-winchester @akshi8278 @stoneyggirl @deandreamernp @lyarr24 @lovealways-j @slamminmine @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone @alaufeyson @raidens-realm @tatted-trina6 @defenderrosetyler @cluz1babe @delightfullykrispypeach @05supernatural20

[itadorisgf]

shopping trip.

you rope maki into going shopping with you. though she’d rather by anywhere else, she doesn’t appreciate it when someone tries to ruin her best friend’s day.

wc: 1.4k

maki zenin.

gn!reader, best friend!reader, hurt/comfort, non-consensual groping, light violence.

the door slams against the wall with a loud smack as you burst through into the room. you toss yourself onto the bed pressed up against the wall, sprawling onto your back and smiling up at its occupant.

“haven’t you ever heard of knocking?” maki peers over the top of her glasses, an unamused expression plastered on her face. she looks away from you, continuing to scroll through her phone as you squirm around until you get into a comfortable position.

“yeah, but i had something really important to tell you.” you’ve turned over to lie on your stomach, your face now propped up by your palms as you jut your lip out at maki, who doesn’t even bother to look your way.

“what was so important that you couldn’t knock on my door like a normal person?” 

unfortunately for maki, you bursting through her door without any warning is a regular occurrence. somehow you’ve never come in unannounced during a time when she was asleep or changing, which was surprising considering how often you liked to pop in to her room. it’s like you had a sixth sense in which you knew when would be a bad time to go bother maki. or maybe you’ve just gotten lucky so far. 

maki would lock you out, but she knows you would just pester her until she unlocked it and hung out with you. 

if possible, your grin widens even more, nearly splitting your face in half. “i need to go shopping and you have to come with me.”

“not a chance.”

“maki,” you whine, letting your arms slip out from under you and flopping fully down on your stomach with your cheek pressed up against the mattress. “please?”

“no,” she states, not even tearing her eyes away from her phone to reply to you. “why would i ever want to willingly go shopping when i have no reason to?”

“because i’m your best friend in the entire world and you love me so much.”

that may be true, but not a good enough reason for maki to get off her bed and go shop with you when the two of you could do something like spar instead. she gives you a deadpan look that has you quickly searching for another reason.

“i promise i’ll be fast and i’ll even buy you lunch.”

her lips curl into an approving grin and her eyes flash over to yours as she closes out of the application she was in.

“deal.”

you, in fact, were not fast.

maki should have known better, to be honest. you always take forever since you have such a difficult time deciding on whether or not you want to purchase something. the excuse of i’m not going to spend money on something i don’t love on your tongue as you clutch two different shirts in your hand, comparing them in an attempt to choose which one you should buy. you ended up buying neither of them.

maki’s just glad that the first thing the two of you did when you got to the mall was get lunch. you let maki choose the place, but warned her not to drain your pockets with what she wanted. she was tempted to buy something expensive to eat just to hear you grumble, but she opted for a meal that she enjoyed and wasn’t out of your price range.

lunch was nice, though maki slapped your hand away when you tried to steal some food off her plate. she eventually caved in and let you sneak in a few bites when you whined and pouted at her. in return, you let her try some of your food too.

right now, she was hanging around the entrance of the store you were perusing. mindlessly scrolling through social media because after the first few stores, maki blatantly refused to go into any more with you. you understood that shopping wasn’t really of interest to maki, so you left it at that and bounded into the shop without her.

however, you’ve been in there for awhile and maki was growing the slightest bit antsy. she couldn’t wait to get back to campus, rope you into some sparring for making her agree to come with you, and beat your ass as proper payment. yeah, that sounded nice.

“thanks for waiting for me!” maki looks up from her phone to see you bounce up to her with a few bags clutched in your hands. you bring up your hand to rub at the back of your head, jostling the bags in your grip, as you give her a sheepish grin. “sorry, i know i took longer than expected.”

“it’s no big deal.” she remarks, lightly hitting the side of your head with her palm. “are you done, though? because if you’re going to take another hour or something i swear—”

“just one more store,” you assure, walking into step with her, “i promise, i just wanted to stop by the candy store and buy some stuff for the others.”

she huffs underneath her breath at that. you really shouldn’t be buying others stuff when your allowance for this month is going to run out soon. maki cocks her head your way. “you shouldn’t buy—”

a startled gasp falls from your lips and maki whips her head around, trying to place why you made that noise. the sight that greets maki has her seeing red instantaneously. an older man has his hand firmly placed on your ass, a sick appraising look on his face. maki’s quick to react, ripping his hand off of you, a shocked expression replacing the previous one on the male’s face.

“what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” maki tightens her grip on his wrist, causing the man to wince in pain. good. she was going to shatter his damn wrist. “huh? aren’t you going to say anything? got nothing better to do than be a fucking pervert?” maki sneers, digging her nails into his skin. she hopes he fucking bleeds.

“aa—let go, you crazy bitch.”

a dangerous grin spreads across maki’s face. “i’ll show you just how fucking crazy—”

“m-maki.” your voice shakes as you gently tug on the sleeve of her shirt. “let’s go.” her grip doesn’t loosen in the slightest, prompting the man to yelp in pain. “please.”

she tosses the man’s arm out of her grip, glaring down at him. “if i see you harassing anyone else, i’ll break your arm.” he scampers away, clutching his wrist and murmuring psycho bitch underneath his breath.

the deep frown marking maki’s face softens when she turns her attention back to you. you’re slightly shaking, holding your bags in an iron grip. your head hangs low with your eyes trained on the ground. maki feels anger rise up once more within her; she should go back and beat the fucking shit out of the man for putting his hands on you.

“hey.” she gently places her hand on your shoulder to get your attention. you flinch from the touch, causing maki to retract her hand back as fast as she can. scratch that, she was going to kill him.

“sorry,” you softly murmur, bringing a hand to rub at your arm. why are you apologizing for anything?

“don’t apologize. it’s not your fault.” maki takes care to emphasize that it’s not your fault. it’s nobody’s fault but that stupid bastard’s. “are you good with me touching you?”

you nod your head an imperceptible amount. she awkwardly wraps her arms around your form, engulfing you in a hug. you’re unbearably stiff for a moment before you lift your arms to clutch at the back of maki’s shirt. she doesn’t comment on the dampening of her shirt and just holds you in a hug.

when you pull away to rub at your eyes, there’s a small watery grin playing at your lips. “who knew maki zenin was such a softie?”

she scowls at that, gently poking the side of your head with her finger. “shut up. i’m not.”

her retort is half-hearted and it’s clear that both of you know it. secretly, maki is just relieved that you’re joking again. begrudgingly, she lets you loop your arms together and lean into her side as you start walking again.

“c’mon, i still want to go to the candy store.”

(later, when you get back to campus and confide in the others about what happened, they discreetly exchange glances with one another, resolving themselves to beat the shit out of that man if they ever come across him.)

[thelittlepoetprincess]

𝙈𝙃𝘼 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙨 𝙖𝙨 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙨(NSFW)

Author’s Notes: I promised another one of these so of course, I shall deliver. Also this’ll be a mixture of fluff and NSFW since these are more of the teasers. Please excuse the grammar, Grammarly was not working today. Hawks, Dabi, Overhaul, and Fatgum. SPOILER WARNING FOR DABI’S DANCE IN THE MANGA. If you like the Dabi or Overhaul ones get in the therapy wagon.

Word count: 1,470 words

Warnings: THE SPICE Quirk play, cockwarming, human fleshlight,consensual somno, public sex, sex with an audience, BDSM themes, body worship, hunting, degrading, and also abuse warning for Dabi and Overhaul.

Keigo Takami~Hawks

Pfft, the mans literally never has time for you, like- ever.

He’s working 24/7 so whenever he’s in the area he’s(quite literally) swoop by and give you a kiss or something then dip.

He also has to cut dates or dinner together short for work, or just make it quick. Quickies very common

The whole feather thing is very much real, it helps him keep tabs on you while giving him a way to let you know he loves you when he’s busy.

Often times he comes home to you asleep on the couch waiting for him, and he feels something stirring in him he pushed down a long time ago: Attachment.

If he comes home and he really needs to work one out of him then he’ll ask you can he use you then carry you off and thigh fuck you, but if he’s feeling frisky he’ll stick himself inside you and just feel you clench for that added bonus.

Commitment scares him, but you’re patient with him and he appreciates it. It show when he finally falls asleep around you.

When days get rough for him, you can tell. His clothes and hair are more disheveled than usual, his feathers are spread out, and he has to remind himself not to hiss when you come close(bird shit).

You insist he talk to you but he denies since he always feels he’s being watched and judged. Then you insist he takes it out on you and he refuses even harder, he’s stressed and doesn’t know how to unwind

Then you go for the wings and he will either: dodge you and scold you for trying orrrrrr. . . 

Fucking snap on you and rock your shit.

“Oh, now your playing with fire, little birdie. Touching my wings is bold, now don’t regret it. You’ve ruffled my feathers and riled me up.“

Touya Todoroki~Dabi

MEAN, MEAN AS HEELL. HE GIVES ABSOLUTELY NO FUCKS FOR YOU!

Toxic relationship built only on sex and a power complex.

He gives no fucks for you but let him catch you even looking at someone the wrong way and he’d burn the fuck out of you both. Then push you out his way so he can burn the fucker fully to a crisp.

Not gentle burns fucking third degree you need a hospital burns. Also he wouldn’t apologize.

Yandere? Fuck no, he doesn’t care that much.

He’d watch you writhe in pain with tears in your eyes and enjoy it. Then snatch you up immediately and drag you back to the base to fuck your brains out.

Why are you dating him? He loves degrading you, pride? None of that here. You are his to use, break, and throw away as he pleases.

He owns you in his eyes, and if you run your fucked when he finds you

Very much breaking down in front of you but don’t touch him, don’t try to help because again: he will cremate you in a second without hesitation.

He likes to see the fear in your eyes, it lets him know he has power over you.

Big Hunter vibes from him, please do run. He likes the games. He’ll chase you down a dark alley way and take you against the wall once you hit the dead end.

The fucking snarls and growls of this mans, dear lord.

He’ll fuck you literally anywhere, the more populated the better. Try being blindfolded and set on a stage in a club full of villains and have him dick you down for all of them to see. He’s fucked you in front of the League on several occasions.

Your so far mind-broken and gone you won’t leave even if you could. Not that he’d let you walk out, you’re his only form of stress relief. Saves him the time of finding 1 night stands then burning them afterwards.

“You wanna leave, huh cocksleeve? Go ahead, I won’t stop you all you have to do is get off of my cock first. You won’t? Then quit whining and let me break you.“

Kai Chisaki~Overhaul

HE TOXIC TOO JUST LIKE DABI

Overhaul is also super busy like Hawks but you spend a certain amount of time with him since he has his schedule specifically planned out.

You live in the base but he doesn't let you nor want you as a part of the whole Eri thing or any of his work. You are not his equal or lover.

You’re less of a partner and more as a stress reliever, you're like a concubine basically.

He has you take a disinfecting bath before he sees you just to make sure he doesn’t get sick.

Your routine is very strict and you’re guarded, rarely ever changes unless you request it or there’s an emergency.

He's really fucking mean to you and uses his quirk on you to keep you in line, he'll break you and fix you just like he does Eri just to discipline you.

He also fucks you very brutally, like just for no reason fucks you hard. Everyone just let’s it go because better you than them.

The only time other members are nice to you is when they’ve fucked up and you need to either take the blame for them or ease Kai’s anger so they don’t end up dead afterwards.

Your knocked out after every session just because he's very rough with you and doesn't care, and if you don't preform to his standards he'll break you and put you back together.

He has a bad habit of fixing you just to keep going as well.

You’re a kept woman of the Yakuza, so pretty much whatever you want is given to you on a silver plater.

You are not his first lover, and you more than likely won’t be the last.

You clean up afterwards as well. Even more so if it’s in his office.

“What’s wrong? Can’t take another round? That’s alright, I’ll just fix you up good as new and keep going. You know better than to complain, right? Good pet.“

Taishiro Toyomitsu~Fatgum

He’s a good boy, he brings you food all the time and let’s you know when he’s doing something dangerous.

Whatever you wanna eat, name it and he’s got it. Has all the popular food joints on speed dial and gets discounts literally everywhere.

He loves it when you snuggle into his hugs, but he gets worried he may accidentally lose you in his fat you would love this actually

He has no problem fucking you when he’s not patrolling, no one visits the agency often so you two have his entire office to yourselves.

This man is into food play, no surprise there. Eating off you, yes. You eating off him, yes. Food with sex, yes indeed.

The biggest cuddlebug on the planet, he’s so used to being unattractive by most standards that once you two started dating he was so touch-starved he wanted to hug you ALL THE TIME

He’s not-so-surprisingly a good combat teacher.

He’s very vanilla and gentle, he doesn’t want to hurt you but he’s a BIG BOY so no need for the extras to make it super spicy.

All giggles, you guys have tried BDSM before, it doesn’t work he’s too goofy.

The agreed safeword is. . . . meatpie. Yes. He’ll back off and you’ll be laughing to yourself about it just enough to relax once more while he gets ready to praise you like a goddess.

Butterball, butterbean, and love muffin are his go-tos for nicknames. Though when your wearing that outfit he loves so much he has a habit of calling you “Devil’s food cake”, making him want to sin in all the sweetest ways possible.

Into Cock-warming, a lot. Not to mention teasing him will result in a harsher than usual upward thrust from his hips, he’s a bucking mess.

Body positivity king, there is not a day that goes by where he does not praise your figure for hours on end.

Literally fought someone one time because they objectified you and then had the audacity to say you weren't a whole fucking snack in front of him.

Kinkiest thing he’s done: Used you as a human fleshlight, it was only once but secretly neither of you can get rid of the thought.

THE DILF VIBES FROM HIM. Everyone says Kiri and Tamaki are his hero-children, you see it. It’s lowkey highkey attractive adorable.

OH THE AFTERCARE. I’m talking fresh warm baths with your favorite scents, massages for your whole body, and food. Endless amounts of food, cuddles, and praise.

“My little butterball, you look so good. I’m gonna push all the way in now, okay? Heh, no butterbean, I’m just halfway in your little hole. You know the safeword, just say the word if it’s too much.“

[stuffthatbard]

Good Puppy

Tags: Jaskier/Yennefer, Puppy Play, Light Dom/sub, Oral Sex, Cunnilingus, Collars, Cock Cages, Butt Plugs, Vibrators, Multiple Orgasms, Forced Orgasm, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Sub Jaskier, Dom Yennefer, Humiliation, Omorashi, Watersports, Breathplay, Aftercare, Praise Kink, Spooning, Consensual Kink

Ummmm prompts sitting in my inbox? What prompts haha

--

When Yennefer first suggested it, Jaskier thought she was kidding. Pretending to be a dog? Like a kid playing make-believe? He didn’t understand how anyone could find it arousing, but the idea did intrigue him, and so he agreed to try it out.

He hadn’t expected to like it quite this much, but something about the way she treated him—loving, yes, but somehow still beneath her—got him off like a rocket.

And even beyond that, beyond the fact that a sighed “Puppy,” could have heat curling in his gut immediately, he found that he quite liked the submission of it as well—whenever they played, he didn’t have to worry about anything. He only had to be a good boy and listen to her—or, if he was bad, to take his punishment. But he was rarely bad—pleasing her earned him praise that he desperately craved.

And one day, when they’re lying together in bed, sweat cooling on their bodies, Yennefer brings up something more. “What would you say,” she muses, fingers curling round his hair, “to being my puppy all the time?”

“All the time?”

“Only at home,” she amends herself. “The rest of the world doesn’t get to see you like this. Only I do,” she purrs, tugging at a lock of his hair, sending a shiver down his spine.

He bites his lip. It’s a daunting thought, but he can’t deny that he’s interested. “What would that mean?” he asks.

“The same rules would apply—you would always wear a collar, and you wouldn’t be allowed on the furniture, and you would sleep in your crate—unless you’ve been good and I let you join me in bed,” she says.

He hesitates.

“You can say no. We can keep doing this, only playing occasionally.” She pets a hand over his hair, inadvertently reminding him exactly why it is he loves this.

“I want to,” he blurts out. “I want to try it.”

Settling into life as her puppy is much easier than Jaskier thought it would be. The only challenge is this: When Yennefer is at work, and he’s left home alone, he can’t quite settle into the mindset. He supposes he doesn’t have to, not while Yennefer isn’t here. He can’t sink fully into being her puppy, but it feels wrong not to, and so he’s caught in a sort of in-between state, with all the desires of a human being and none of the restraint to stop himself from acting on them.

He doesn’t think twice about pleasuring himself while she’s gone—she won’t be home for hours yet, after all, and he’s so horny he could cry. Surely it won’t hurt much if he rubs one out, right? He has needs, after all, and if she’s not there to help him fill them, well…

He hops up on her bed, buries his face in the sheets that have her scent on them, and starts rutting against the mattress, thoughts of silken skin and sharp nails filling his mind. He’s close, so close, on the edge of coming—whimpering and gasping—

He hears the door open.

The shock of being caught by Yennefer summons his orgasm immediately, that wicked little exhibitionist streak he’s always had rearing its head. But it’s not as satisfying, ruined by the sudden thought that she’s seen him breaking the rules.

He stares at her, breathing heavily, and she stares back. He expects yelling, he expects her to grab his collar and drag him off the bed, berate him—he expects anything except what actually happens.

“Aw, did puppy make a mess?” she coos, walking over and dragging a finger through the cum painting the sheets. He whines, face burning in embarrassment, burying his face in the sheets so he doesn’t have to look at her.

“None of that now,” she says sternly, but her fingers are gentle when they scratch behind his ear. She coaxes him to lift his head, tugging gently at his collar until he looks at her. “It’s alright, I should have known you couldn’t control yourself.”

He perks up a bit—does this mean he’s not in trouble?

He keeps waiting for the other shoe to drop, for his punishment to come, but she doesn’t do anything that night. Is it a test? Is she leaving him waiting in anticipation, to make it all the more intense when it finally comes?

He’s almost forgotten about it by the time she comes home the next day—later than usual, and carrying a shopping bag, though from this angle, he can’t see what’s inside it. Curiosity is eating him up, but puppies can’t ask questions—and he’s determined be good for her, not wanting to remind her of his recent transgressions.

He greets her enthusiastically, nuzzling into the vee of her legs—maybe she’ll even let him apologize the way he knows best, until she’s shaking with pleasure.

She catches on immediately—of course she does. She’s a good owner, always knows what her puppy wants—though that doesn’t mean she gives it to him, of course. “Do you want to say sorry?” she asks, reaching down to pet his hair.

He whines and nods, eager to earn her forgiveness.

“Go sit on the bed,” she instructs, and he leaps to obey. He’ll show her just how good he can be, and secretly he hopes that he might be rewarded for it.

Antsy with anticipation, he fidgets in place, though he doesn’t dare get up and pace. She doesn’t make him wait long—she follows shortly after, carrying the same bag, which she sets aside. Though he’s burning with curiosity about what’s inside it—and whether it’s meant for him—his attention is pulled away by her shutting the door and beginning to strip, revealing skin that he’s itching to taste. If he had a tail, it would be wagging right now.

She climbs atop the bed and leans back against the headboard, looking every inch the regal queen despite—or maybe because of—her nudity. Her legs part, revealing a glimpse of her cunt, already starting to get wet.

As much as he wants to leap into action, kissing and licking, he’s been trained better than that. He waits until she pulls him in place with a finger hooked around his collar, nudging his head down, before he starts to lave his tongue over her.

His licks are sloppy, uncoordinated, but no lesser for his eagerness. Slick drips down his chin, mixing with drool as he salivates, relishing the taste of her sweet cunt.

After she shakes apart on his tongue once, walls clenching around nothing, she tugs him up by the collar, and he shifts his attention to her clit, licking and sucking until she’s moaning, legs trembling with another orgasm. He knows better than to stop, and returns to licking between her labia, dipping his tongue inside as she shudders.

He flutters his tongue, teeth just barely grazing her clit, and she grinds down, smothering him, though he doesn’t complain. He laps up the slick that gushes forth like it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted, licking her clean until, oversensitive, she pulls him away with two fingers hooked in his collar.

“Good boy,” she croons, once she catches her breath, and pulls him into a kiss, tasting herself on his tongue. “Apology accepted.”

His heart soars. He’s been forgiven, and he’s been good! He whines with pleasure, nipping gently at her lips until she pushes him away and sits up.

He watches as she leans over and pulls the bag closer—he’d forgotten, and his heart drops when he sees the first item she pulls out. “Oh, don’t be like that,” she coaxes upon seeing his face. “This is to help you be a good boy. You want to be good, right?”

He whines. He does want to be good, but this—a cock cage? Forget a reward, this is perhaps the worst punishment she could give him.

Will she ever allow him to come again? And what about—he gulps—what about when he needs to piss? He trusts her with his life, but not enough to trust that she won’t delight in making him squirm.

But he doesn’t stop her when she leans forward and fits it around his cock and balls, the cold metal making him flinch back. “Stop that,” she admonishes, flicking lightly at the head of his cock, and he yelps.

It’s a painful few minutes as she waits for his erection to go down enough to fasten the cage closed and lock it, tucking the key away. “There we go,” she coos. “Now we shouldn’t have any more accidents.”

He whines again.

“And,” she continues, “I have a treat for you.” He perks up as she pulls another item out of the bag—a tail plug, and his eyes go wide in arousal when he sees it.

She laughs, but not meanly. “Turn around and present.”

He does, holding his cheeks open the way she taught him to allow better access—and because ‘it makes such a pretty sight,’ according to her.

He jumps at the first press of a slick finger at his hole, but leans back into it as she works him open, little whimpers making their way out of his mouth. The plug slides in easily, popping past the tight ring of muscle and settling right up against his prostate. The fur of the tail brushes against the inside of his sensitive thigs, and it sends him half mad with sensation.

He feels a sudden sharp sting on his ass—she’s spanked him, just to see the way he yelps and clenches around the plug, yelping again when it drives the plug further in, pressing just so against his most sensitive spot.

He forces himself to settle, consciously relaxing his muscles and giving himself some relief. Experimentally, he wiggles his lower half, the tail swinging side to side, and earns an appreciative hum from Yennefer. “Do you like that, puppy?” she purrs. “I certainly do.”

He nods, turning around and nuzzling up against her thigh. She really is good to him.

“Wait until I show you the best part,” she says, rummaging around in the bag once more. Jaskier hears a small click, and then suddenly he feels the plug start to vibrate, forcing precum to weep out of his caged cock, which is valiantly trying to get hard again despite its bonds.

His fingers scrabble against the sheets, trying in vain to find something to cling to as he rides the waves of vibrations. He whines, thrusting his hips forward into the sheets by instinct, but he can’t get any stimulation on his poor caged cock. His desperate humping is as useless as his cock is now.

He buries his face against her leg, whining still, and she takes pity, switching the vibrations off. “I’ve put you through a lot tonight, I know,” she murmurs, petting his hair. “We’ll play with that later.”

He remains frustrated and unsatisfied until he falls asleep, but he’s at least grateful to be forgiven and even allowed a place in her bed.

When he wakes up the next morning, he expects Yennefer to take the cage off. Maybe this was just a brief punishment, a test, and she’ll let him come since he’s been so good.

But she just laughs at his hopeful look—“Silly puppy. This is for your own good, remember?”—and leaves it on. And to make matters worse, he knows that she’s going to be busy all day today—she’ll be home, but most likely locked away in her office while she works.

The sole consolation is that she won’t have the time to torture him with pleasure, something she delights in doing whenever they’re home together. But she won’t be giving him any attention, either.

He dozes for a bit, whiling away the morning, until he gets too bored and goes searching for anything else to do. He would jerk off, but, well, that’s not an option anymore. He considers going to bother Yennefer, but even before thinking about it he knows it’s a bad idea. And he’s trying to be good, after all.

It’s around noon when the urge to pee gets really bad. He’s been holding it all morning, ignoring the steadily-growing urge, but it’s truly undeniable now. Hanging his head, he goes over to her office, scratching at the door to get her attention. The door doesn’t open, though. Heart clenching, he whines, knowing that she’ll be angry with him for disturbing her, but he’s desperate at this point—good boys don’t have accidents, after all, and he’s perilously close to one.

His bladder is straining, almost as if he can feel the piss sloshing around inside. After a wave of need hits him particularly hard, his hands fly down to his cock, squeezing as firmly as he can despite the cage in the way. He needs to go.

He starts to cry, tears of frustration and desperation falling down his face, hiccupping whines making their way out of his mouth. “Jaskier, stop whining. I’m busy,” Yennefer calls from the other side of the door.

So she knows he’s there, and she won’t come to help. Jaskier knows, then, with absolute certainty, that he’s going to piss himself. He’s going to piss right here, right on the floor, through his cage, and it’s going to get everywhere, and Yennefer is going to be mad, and—

He’s peeing before he can even finish the thought, hot piss hissing against the bars of the cage, dribbling onto the floor into a hot puddle, soaking his legs. The relief is great, but it’s overpowered by the intense guilt and shame of the action. He’s pissing on the floor. Like an untrained puppy.

Though his eyes are squeezed shut, he hears the door to the office open. He whines, not meeting her eyes, shoulders hunched up.

“Bad puppy,” she admonishes—the exact words he feared. “What have I told you about making a mess?”

He whines, but it’s cut off as she wraps a finger around his collar and pulls him after her. He rushes to catch up, limbs uncoordinated, weak with relief and heavy with dread. She drags him to the bathroom, has him clamber into the tub, and turns the faucet on full blast. He yelps, the water stinging his skin—at least she’s using warm water, rather than cold. It’s still not something he was expecting, and he’s left dripping but clean in the aftermath.

She towels him dry, rough but not painful, except for when she tweaks his nipples or yanks at a strand of hair or tugs at his tail. He stifles his yelps, though, not wanting to anger her more, even as she clicks her fingers at him to follow her to the bedroom.

He makes as if to jump up on the bed, but one stern glance from her has him reconsidering. Right. Only good boys are allowed on the furniture. He sits at her feet, head bowed, waiting for his punishment.

She bends down and brushes a finger under his chin, lifting until his eyes meet hers. “How can I help you learn this lesson, hm?” she asks, thumb stroking his lips. “I don’t think pain will work—you’re too eager for it,” she mocks. “But pleasure, well—my dirty little hedonist, I think I can teach you about too much of a good thing.” She leans in close, her breath mingling with his. “I’m going to make you mess your cage until you run dry.”

She switches the vibrating plug on. He sucks in a breath, hips jerking forward and almost touching her leg, but he wrestles himself back under control. Don’t make a mess, he coaches himself, his hips twitching as if to drive himself back further upon the vibrator. She laughs delightedly. “Good boy, you’re learning already.”

He whimpers, caught between the dual pain of his flesh pressed against the cage and the pleasure of her praise and the wonderful vibrations. With the plug pressed directly against his prostate, he’s rapidly barreling towards an orgasm—except his cock is kept forcefully soft, weeping through the bars and pooling on the floor. He whines upon seeing it and, without a second thought, leans down to lick up his mess.

Her hand comes down in his hair, at first caressing, but then she shoves him down, nose ground against the floor. “That’s right. Clean up the mess you’ve made,” she says, not letting him up until every drop has been licked clean.

The vibrations keep rocketing through him, assaulting his every nerve. He bites his lip, feeling an impossible orgasm approach. Even confined in a cage, he can feel it building, building, until it overtakes him in a wave, dragged out of him in a slow oozing drip. He pants, riding it through, his panting turning into a steady whine as the plug doesn’t stop.

His oversensitive nerves jump with every sensation, his fingers curling into fists, sweat beading and dripping down his skin. He risks a glance up at Yennefer, silently begging her to stop, but she just raises an eyebrow. “Don’t you want to be good, puppy?” she asks, and he does, he does want to be good, but it’s almost painful now, a second orgasm forcing its way through his body.

He’s right on the edge—but he still needs something to push him over, something to pull him through the wall of oversensitivity and bring him to ecstatic pleasure. He gets it in the form of her sharp nails pricking at his skull, yanking his head up, and her other hand tugging at his collar and twisting. He gasps, air cut off, hands coming to scrabble at his neck, eyes rolling back in his head—and comes like a fucking fountain, cum spurting between the bars of his cage, all the blood rushing from his head, stars filling his vision.

He slumps down, gasping in a breath as she releases his collar, her deceptively strong arms catching him before he can fall into the puddle beneath him. She lifts him up and places him in bed—like a good puppy, his hazy mind tells him—and he slowly comes back to the feeling of her scritching her nails lightly behind his ear in the way that always drives him mad with pleasure, and the sound of her murmuring praises.

“Good boy, Jaskier, you were so good for me,” she coos, and he feels her jostle the cage between his legs. His eyes shoot open and he scrambles backwards with all the urgency his lazy limbs can manage. He can’t handle anything more right now, not with his poor wrung out cock so sensitive. His safeword is on the tip of his tongue when she speaks.

“I’m taking it off, that’s all,” she promises, and he settles down, letting her unlock it and ease it gently off, noting with a whimper the dark lines the cage has gouged into his flesh. “Oh, poor thing.”

Next is the tail plug, and he knows not to jerk back from the slight tug at his stretched rim. There’s a brief flash of too-much as the widest part of the plug exits, followed by the alien feeling of his hole gaping around nothing, fluttering weakly in the plug’s wake.

“Lovely,” Yennefer praises, looking at his hole as if she’d like nothing more than to devour him. Mercifully, she leaves well enough alone, and nudges him over until she can fit on the bed next to him, pulling him into her arms. He goes with a happy sigh, glad his punishment is over and basking in her closeness. “Good boy,” she praises him one last time before sleep claims him. He really does love being her good puppy.

[ofbooksandaesthetics]

Battle of the Bands

Attack on Titan/ Shingeki no Kyojin 

Levi/Reader

Modern Band AU

Summary: As the guitarist of The 104th, you are invited to play with your favourite band The Scouts. 

Warnings: slight profanity but not much 

Author’s note: I listened to Queen of White Lies by Orion Experience 10 times in one bus journey and couldn’t help but imagine Jean singing it about Mikasa. And voila! This imagine was born :) 

From a young age, you’d always been obsessed with music. From your dad playing jazz on a lazy Sunday afternoon to your mum playing R&B as she cleaned, you had always been surrounded by it. It followed you everywhere so it was no surprise when you were gifted a guitar for your 9th birthday. 

You spent hours each day practising fingerpicking, then moving onto chords and then fully-fledged songs. As you grew so did tastes - and your guitar collection. 

Before moving into the 6th grade, your family moved for a new job, leaving you without friends and having to start a new life in the city of Trost. The one thing that was ever consistent was the strings of your guitar and the beats from the speakers, which became your solace in the coming weeks. And said beats caught the attention of your new next-door neighbour. 

Jean Kirstein was also massively into music, and when he walked past your house he could hear the amp blaring from your open window. He became enthralled and would often leave his window open to catch even just a few notes. 

The Saturday before school started, Jean was forced by his mother to introduce himself to you (she said you had to have at least one friend before starting school) and by doing so Mrs Kirstein caused a life long friendship to bloom. He was forced into your house by your mother and lead upstairs to your room. He was greeted by band posters, from MCR to The Beatles, and an acoustic and electric guitar hanging on the wall side by side. But what caught his gaze was the massive “SCOUTS” poster above your bed. 

“WOW! That’s so cool, you like The Scouts!” He exclaimed as he entered your room, causing you to jump from your magazine and stare at the brown-haired boy invading your space.

“WHO THE HELL ARE YOU?” You shouted, giving your mum a quizzical glare as she smiled at the boy's excitement. Your voice seemed to pull the boy out of his oasis and he met your eyes with a blush and a shrug.

“I’m Jean. My mum sent me, we live next door.” Before you could introduce yourself, he had already started to speak again “I’ve heard you playing your guitar. You’re really good!” 

At this your mum left the two of you two it, only returning 3 hours later to find you both on the floor, with you playing whilst Jean sang along. Noticing the time, Jean jumped up remembering his mum warning to be back by dinnertime. 

“It’s been great meeting you! If you want I can meet you outside on Monday and I’ll introduce you to my friends. They’d love to hear you play too! Connie’s really into the drums and Marco has been learning bass.”

Hearing this your eyes lit up and your mum’s heart warmed at the idea of you finally enjoying your new life.

“That sounds great, I’ll see you then!” You called as your mum lead him out.

                                         4 YEARS LATER

The years passed quickly and it didn’t take you long to forget the pain of your old life and become enamoured with your new friends. Jean did indeed introduce to his friends Connie, Sasha and Marco, and it didn’t take long for you to become the best of friends. The five of you would all meet Connie’s garage, sometimes just chatting but more often than not bringing along your instruments for a jam session. Four years went by of you playing lead guitar, Marco jamming on bass, Connie smashing on percussion and Jean accompanying with his gruff drawl, whilst Sasha sat atop of the counter, sadly not having any musical talents other than occasional tamborining. And the four years went by easily until Sasha let out a suggestion.

“You guys should start a band. Like a proper one, with gigs and shit” She declared, soon after stuffing her mouth with a cake Mrs Springer had brought in. 

“See at least someone appreciates my musical talents” quipped Jean with a quirk of his eyebrows, causing you all to laugh. 

“I’ve got to admit, I’m down! We’ve been playing for years, we even played at last years prom.” Seeing no reason against the idea, you voiced your opinion. 

“Yeah but that was prom. We know all of them anyway, if we did gigs it would be to strangers and critics and stuff” Huffed Connie. 

“Yeah, and potential talent scouts! Imagine if we got signed! What do you think Marco?” Jean turned to face he freckled boy awaiting his response. 

“I guess it could be fun.” He said, tilting his head to the side and turning to Connie. “I think we should” 

With a consensus of four out of five, all eyes were set on Connie, pleading him to agree. He spluttered, not expecting you all to be serious. After a moment of staring at you all incredulously, he finally gave in.

“Fine! But if we got told we’re shit it’s on you guys” He sighed, but was drowned out by all your cheers. 

                       2 YEARS LATER

After that day, you had all put in the effort to perfecting your craft and coming up with your own songs. You and Jean would have weekly sleepovers, pulling all-nighters to get the perfect verses. And it wasn’t long until you booked your first gig, which was a success. Nearly the whole grade had turned up to support you, and you soon became a local legend. And in honour of them, you had named your band The 104th, due to being the 104th grade since your school was founded. 

Your increased fame, got you gigs outside of Trost, on larger stages than the small bars you were used to. You had released your first album and we’re having a small jam session, when Sasha’s, who had taken up the role as manager, phone rang. You all carried on with your conversation until Sasha quickly stood up and ran across the room, her voice getting slightly louder, causing you all to stare at her.

“OMG! That sounds great, we can be there for the soundcheck in less than an hour. Thank you so much, for this opportunity. We appreciate it! Thank you, bye!” She exclaimed with wide eyes as her smile grew and grew. After ending the call she whipped around, before letting out a screech 

“OI, OI! What’s going on?” Asked Connie, as he walked up to Sasha flicking her forehead as she squealed again. 

“GUESS WHO’S OPENING FOR THE SCOUTS?!” She all but screamed whilst running to the front of the garage and throwing your jackets at you all. Realising what she meant you stood in a state of shock before opening your mouth. 

“What do you mean? Opening for The Scouts. As in THE SCOUTS? They’re playing tonight, we can’t open for them.” You justified, meeting Jean’s stunned gaze. 

You two had always imagined what it would be like to meet your legends, let alone open for them. After your initial meeting, the two of you had gone on for hours about your favourite songs by the band and sang along to them. You had even let him in on your crush on the lead guitarist, Levi Ackerman, for heaven’s sake. As good as an opportunity this was, you were a nervous wreck. It was one thing to play on the same stage that your favourite band had stepped on, but to play with them and meet them. That was a thing of its own. 

You were knocked from your thoughts by a shoe to your head, and as you focused back in you watched Connie running around like a headless chicken. Attempting to back up his drum kit, he panicked until Sasha assured him there’d be one there for him. The rest of you seemed to kick into action and you ran about gathering your equipment before rushing home to grab gig-worthy clothes. You all met up back at Connie’s house before all piling into Jean’s minivan. Connie and Sasha were as loud as always but you, Jean and Marco seemed to still be too shocked to talk.

As you rolled up to the venue, you saw a queue of about 20 Scout super fans lined up three hours before the gig even started. You wondered how many were your fans, as Sasha had sent out announcements on every social media site possible after you guys left. You hauled your guitar case out of the van before following behind Sasha into the main doors of the venue. The crew were rushing about everywhere, and if you weren’t already used to the atmosphere you were sure you’d pass out. As you walked into the main hall, your eyes fell to the band on top of the stage. All five of you froze, in the realisation that you were in the same room as your childhood heroes. Putting your kit down, you watched as Hange Zoe lazily sat on her drum set, tapping out a quiet beat, as the lead singer Erwin, counted in the beat. Miche Zacharias swayed his hips as he set out the bassline, and Levi almost languidly strummed his electric guitar. 

The five of you were pulled behind the stage before you could watch their practice start but you could still hear it as they performed their soundcheck. Experienced in the world of gigs, the four of you prepped your instruments, tuning them in case they had been messed up in the hurry of your departure. And by the time you’d finished the Scouts were walking towards you. Hange greeted you first. 

“HI! OMG, we’ve heard so much about you guys. You guys are practically famous around here!” She blurted out, her excitement surprising you all. Connie seemed to be frozen as his inspiration complimented you guys. Miche let out a greeting and moved on to sit down. Leaving Erwin and Levi in front of you. Erwin stepped forward and placed out his hand, shaking and greeting you all individually. Now there was just Levi left. 

Your eyes met his and you couldn’t help but blush, as he gave a small nod. Appreciative of the small gesture, you calmed slightly until Jean ruined it

“HI! We love you guys so much. Y/N even has a crush on Levi!” He blurted, his face turning bright red after realising what he had said. You gasped and without thinking smacked him across the head. 

“WHAT THE HELL’S WRONG WITH YOU? WHY WOULD YOU SAY THAT?” But before you could apologise and defend yourself to Levi and Erwin, you were escorted to the stage for your own soundcheck. Glaring at Jean, you got in position, and were done in half an hour. 

After the soundcheck, you were given time to rest, giving you all time to calm down, after the more than lively introduction. You eventually forgave Jean for his outburst but not without consequences. He would be carrying your gear for the next year’s worth of gigs.

You hadn't yet gained back the confidence to talk Levi but had spoken to the other members of The Scouts. Miche and Erwin told you about how their touring band had ditched them last minute and how they needed another opening band pronto. You were astonished to find out that Hange herself had requested you guys, but it filled your heart with warmth knowing someone as famous as her held your small-town band in high regards. 

Everyone could sense your apprehension to talking to Levi but we’re all shocked when the quiet man joined you whilst getting a drink. You almost blushed when you noticed him next to you but pushed the feeling down and smiled at him. Although Jean had embarrassed you beyond belief, there was no reason to push away your childhood dream and miss the opportunity to talk to him. 

“You know you we’re what inspired me to start learning the guitar?” You said. Levi didn’t reply but you decided his silence wasn’t in annoyance. “My parents were always super into music anyway but when I heard your guys' debut album it pushed me towards the guitar.” You watched him finish making his tea and leave but before he sat down, he turned his head over his shoulder. 

“I’m glad to hear it” He replied, turning again and leaving. You smiled, happy that he didn’t think you were a complete freak. 

                      2 HOURS LATER 

The time had finally arrived. From the side of the stage, you could see a sea of people filling the venue and could hear the symphony of chatter. The boys were stood next to you, panting with nerves. You had never performed to such a large crowd before. You took a sharp breath before turning to them. 

“Come on boys! We’ve done this before and we’ll do it again. This is just another small step before we get our own main stage like this!” Your small pep talk seemed to calm the boys and caught the attention of Erwin and Levi who were waiting to watch your performance from the side-lines. You smiled at the two but we’re now filled with dread as you realised they would be watching. You threw that fear away and gave Marco a side hug as you fixed your strap, and then followed Jean to the stage. 

The lights blinded you but once your vision cleared you all but gasped at the sheer amount of sweaty bodies in front of you. You beamed brightly and gave a wink to a figure in the balcony. At least you could seem confident even if you were dying inside.  

The beat of the drum surrounded you and Marco’s strumming blared out from the amps. You started plucking at your guitar and forgot about the crowd. Jean’s gravely word floated out into the dark room, and it was easy to forget you were on a stage and instead it felt like you were back in Connie’s house. As the song reached the chorus, you and Marco joined in, accompanying Jean. Eventually, you loosened up to a point where all three of you were able to dance slightly to the beat during the bridge. This seemed to get the crowd going even more and you let out a laugh, completely forgetting your inhibitions. [I imagined them performing Queen of White Lies]

Once the song finished, Jean introduced himself, and you prepared yourself for another half an hour of playing and dancing. But it passed quickly and before you knew it you we’re all sat on the sofa. Connie was still flushed chugging on his 3rd bottle of water whilst the rest of you leant back with smiles upon your faces. Your attention was piqued as The Scouts took the stage and you all shouted words of encouragement to them. This brought a smile to their faces, including a small smirk on Levi’s. You all rushed to the sidelines to watch and we’re in awe as you saw the four of them play as if they were reading each other's minds. It was as if they were symbiotic, each knowing what to do without even the slightest hesitation. 

Even though you tried to focus on all of them, your focus always came back to Levi. You watched how his brow rested into a scowl as he neared a faster part of the song and how he threw his head back when lost in the moment. Your eyes widened when he took his shirt off after four songs, which Jean noticed, and started to nudge you for. Time seemed to go by so quickly that you barely noticed them finish their final song. They waved to the crowd as they left but stayed in the wings as the crowd screamed for an encore. Erwin still seemed to smile and nudged Levi towards the five of you. 

“Do you guys want to join us for the encore?” He asked gruffly, his eyes set on you. You looked at the rest of the band and you all nodded before you verbally replied. 

“Of course! What song are you thinking?” 

“Nirvana - Love Buzz? You guys know it?” Miche asked, wiping some water from his chin. You all nodded in unison and before you know it you were all kitted up and back on stage. 

The crowd went wild seeing both The Scouts and The 104th back on stage and you couldn’t help but smile as you found Levi stood next to you. You guys let loose on the song and you even attempted to have a little contest with Levi during the guitar solo for dominance. This gained a smile for the man, and you guys finished the song in no time. 

Leaving the stage for the last time, you gave out a clumsy bow before running off stage. You guys went to get changed and pack up your gear but before you could get in the van the Scouts we’re back in front of you. Erwin took the lead yet again. 

“We loved having you guys on stage with us! And after some thinking, we’d love it if you replaced our old band with us on the rest of the tour.” 

At this Jean slammed the van door and stared at Erwin in shock. The five of you looked at each other in shock. The silence was eventually broken by Connie, who let out a scream as he ran around the van, followed by Sasha letting out profanities. The rest of you gushed and thanked the other band profusely not knowing how to appropriately respond. After formally Sasha accepted the other, Hange launched into giving out hugs, whilst Miche and Erwin gave out handshakes. Levi ignored the rest of your bandmates and made his way to you.

“I look forward to more guitar battles.” Levi remarked as dryly as ever but with a small smirk playing on his lips. Luckily this time, the others were too distracted and you were able to reply with some confidence. 

“You mean to look forward to losing right?” you quipped, knowing this would be the start of something great. 

[thran-duils]

Dubious Representation (P.4, Final)

Title: Dubious Representation (Part Four, Final) Summary: Fem!Reader x soft Dark!Hank Palmer. Reader’s husband is facing jail time and although Hank Palmer entered the counsel for pro bono, he is still going to get a form of payment. Recently single, he’s been lonely and he’s looking for some comfort. Even if it means obtaining it from less than savory means. Words: 3,110 Warnings (for entire fic): Eventual smut, sexual coercion, infidelity, mention of past domestic violence, verbal abuse

Part Three || Masterpost (mobile) || Fanfic masterpost

Hank came downstairs, buttoning up his dress shirt. You looked over your shoulder from where you were making breakfast, something you had gotten accustomed to when you stayed over. It was relaxing. He was right about one thing; you did love to cook. And it was nice you had someone who actually seemed to appreciate it rather than taking it for granted. Not to mention, his kitchen was top notch, and his fridge was always stocked cause he gave you the money to do so.

He caused you to pause for a second as he grabbed your shoulders to hold you while he kissed your temple.

“Morning, doll,” he spoke against your skin before he pulled away. “Did you sleep well?”

“Mhm.” You always did on his expensive mattress. Especially after he wore you out.

You finished up and made up two plates. Turning around you found him at the island, clicking away on his phone. You placed his plate in front of him, him thanking you, and slid onto the stool next to him.

He swore under his breath and tossed his phone down before he started eating.

“What’s wrong?” you asked.

“Lisa is being a bitch as usual.” He held a lot of contempt for his ex-wife.

“I’m sorry.”

“Nothing for you to be sorry about.” He took another bite and eyed you. “I’ve got Lauren this weekend again.”

You made sure you were away when she was there. He never made you feel like you had to be but the few weekends he had with her since you had started seeing him, you made yourself scarce.

“Good. You haven’t seen her in a while,” you told him, and you meant it. It had been a couple weeks. “I need to clean my apartment too, so this is good.”

“You don’t gotta go home.”

You shot him a look at that and saw he was staring at you with purpose. You swallowed your bite and forced a shrug. “It’s okay. It’s good you guys have time alone together.”

“We don’t have to always be alone together,” Hank said, taking another bite. He shrugged in turn now, fixing you with another intense look. “I’ve thought about you moving in.”

That was unexpected. And all you could muster was, “Oh.”

“‘Oh’ what?” He sounded like he was going to get on a combative route.

You rested your hand on the counter, meeting his eyes. “That… I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why not? Explain it to me.”

You blinked. How did you explain how wrong you felt about falling into another man’s bed so soon? The same day Rich had left, you were back with Hank. Not that you had not slept with him before then but… and how guilty you felt about your feelings for him? His relationship had already been done and had been for a while. You were moving on without a consensual party who had no idea what was happening outside their jail cell. No matter how free you felt since you were not afraid of what kind of mood Rich was going to be in when you got home, there was still history.

“It seems too quick.”

“It’s been six months.” Hank grabbed the jug of iced tea you had placed on the counter and began pouring you and him glasses.

“A lot of people would say too quick.”

“Rich is refusing to see you when you have gone to visit. I don’t think it’s quick enough we make this more serious.”

He sounded bitter about the Rich comment. When you had told him you were going to visit Rich in prison the first time, Hank had been frigid. And then the next two times, he was still bristled. And he had had a “told you so” attitude about it when you came back mopey because he was right about that: Rich refused to see you. He would walk in and see it was you at the table and turn around and walk back through the door.

“Don’t you think?” Hank continued as he finished pouring the iced tea. “You are already sleeping here half the week. It’s a waste of money for you to keep the apartment.”

You chewed on your bottom lip. The apartment was yours now. Something you had not had to yourself for years. But you felt more comfortable here.

“I guess when you put it that way,” you said.

He saw your resolve crumbling and he capitalized, leaning on his arm to come closer to you. “Then what’s the issue?”

“My apartment—"

“You know. I brought it up to come to the point to just tell you: Don’t worry about it. I’ve already contacted your building manager about paying off the rest of the lease. You had only four more months left so that wasn’t a huge expense. You need to sign the paperwork though.”

“Hank!”

“What?”

“You didn’t even ask me. And they just spoke to you about my lease when you’re not even on it?”

Hank waved you off, “You’re getting distracted. Did you wanna keep living there with no AC in the summer and then shitty heating in the winter? And that carpet was atrocious in the halls. Do you not like my house?”

“I like it. A lot.”

“Then again, let me ask, what’s the issue?” You had nothing to say, and he grasped your hand. “Doll, all you need to do is go pack up the things you want to bring here — I’ll get you boxes — and then the rest of it we can send to the thrift shop. AND—" he rose his voice as soon as he saw you were going to protest, and you closed your mouth. “The other stuff — you know things of his — we can ship to his next of kin.”

“His parents.”

“Good. They can inherit it. Just like they’ll inherit him when he’s out.”

You let that sink in for a couple moments before you realized a way out of being here while Lauren was here. “Well, then I should go to my apartment this weekend to do that…”

Hank looked impressed for a split second before he agreed, “I suppose so. But I want you available on Saturday morning. You don’t have to stay here but we are going to the botanical gardens and then getting lunch. I want you there. Is that fair?”

It was a type of compromise, a rarity.

“Yes.”

He had still gotten his way. As usual.

<><><>

Lauren was a sweet girl, eleven years old. She was headstrong just like Hank, and you had to smile watching them go back and forth about their opinions. She was going to be a force to be reckoned with.

When she got you alone for a moment, she was watching you closely.

“What’s up?” you asked, trying to hide your unease.

“I told my dad that daddies don’t get lonely when he asked me who I wanted to live with when they were getting divorced.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. They move on quick.” Your stomach clenched, worried where this conversation was going. “But my mom was dating someone before he was. Like almost immediately. It’s just weird. But I’m glad he has someone now.”

You relaxed and nodded before you told her, “Me too. He makes me happy.”

<><><>

A week and a half later, there was a voicemail on your cell phone. You did not recognize the number.

You pressed on it and your blood chilled hearing Rich’s voice.

“Y/N, what the fuck is this about all these boxes of my shit showing up at my parent’s house? You know they don’t have the space in their two bedroom. And what the fuck are you sending it away for in the first place? If you’re even thinking about kicking me out, you’ve got another thing coming, you little bitch. Do you understand me? Moving on like a fucking hussy now that I’m in here and you’ve got space in the bed? I know you’re helpless when it comes to providing for yourself but if you think I’m gonna let it slide that you are spreading your legs for some other fucking guy cause you can’t hack it on your own, you are sorely mistaken! I—”

The voicemail cut off. He must have run out of time.

Your lip was warbling as you stared down at your phone.

“What is it?”

Hank’s voice startled you. He was rubbing his hair with a towel, another one wrapped around his waist, straight from the shower.

“Nothing,” you said wiping at your eyes.

Hank’s arm dropped from his head, and he stalked over. He reached his hand out, gesturing for you to hand over your phone. He did not buy it when you said nothing. You slowly relented and he took it from you. Pressing play, he replayed the button and you flinched, the words hurting just as much if not more than the first time you heard them.

Snorting, Hank deleted the message. “Fuck him. And his condescension. You’re doing what’s best for you, and you are hacking it on your own. I say it’s about time you got a new number, Hmm? To avoid that bullshit.” Your lips parted in surprise, and he held your phone back out to you. You took it as he said, “I’ll add you to my plan, baby. We can go tomorrow. I don’t have meetings in the afternoon.”

With that, he turned and walked back towards the bathroom. He had not waited for you to respond.

<><><>

As soon as you were two weeks late, Hank brought home a test. He had stopped using condoms months ago when things had progressed. That same night, he had taken you out to a fancy restaurant to celebrate. He had taken you there before and you had adored it. That time though it was like a fog was clouding the room. You were happy, you had wanted to be a mother, and he was happy. But you were still married.

Hank had obviously been thinking about that too because a couple days later, he brought it up bluntly as he was watering his flowers.

“You should get a divorce.”

Pushing your sunglasses up, you stared at him in shock. You were reclining on a lawn chair, reading a magazine.

When you did not respond, he looked over his shoulder. You knew this conversation was coming but the knowledge of that did nothing to soften the blow.

“That seems heartless.”

“What? Fully leaving? Or are you telling me you’re planning to go back to him?” He was using that challenging tone.

“No!” you blurted. “That’s not what I’m saying.”

He turned the hose off and dropped it turning to face you.

“Y/N, he’s been in jail for over a year. You’ve already sent his shit away, he’s gotten mad about it, you don’t know if his family cares cause you aren’t at the apartment, you’re living with me. And you’re not at your old job. So, they can’t find you there. And you got a new number so no one can contact you. I think the writing has been on the wall where this is going. So what’s with dragging your feet?”

“It’s… hard.”

“A lot of things are hard, but we deal with them. Look, you’ll feel better once it’s over and done with and so will I. I don’t like knowing you’re still legally tied to that bastard. Can you understand that? Not just as the man you’re with but from an attorney’s viewpoint. It’s not good news. I’d sleep easier at night knowing he’s not gonna try to pull some shit.”

“Isn’t that a conflict of interest if you initiate and oversee this?”

Hank gave a brief chuckle, “No. I’m allowed to represent blood family even. I’m supposed to be unbiased of course but it’s legal to do it. I’m allowed to represent anyone.” He came closer, looking down at you on the chair. “And honestly, if I have it under my belt I represented him — that is if the bastard decides to take it to court, which I’m doubtful he will — and ‘saw the errors of my choice’ and now I’m trying to help you out, that’ll help in court.” He saw the look on your face and shrugged sheepishly. “I don’t mean to be insensitive but that’s how juries are swayed. Sob stories. And I could hit that shit out of the park.”

Swallowing, you contemplated. You had been thinking about divorce for a while. Even more so now that you knew you were carrying Hank’s baby.

You had taken too long to respond again, and Hank added, “Free of charge for you of course.”

You gave a small smile and said, “Hank… yeah, fine. I know.”

“‘Fine’? ‘You know’? Doll, you know I like you to elaborate your firm feelings.”

“I’ve been thinking about it. And I need to take a plunge. I wanna be invested in us. Fully.”

Hank nodded, “That’s better.” He nodded once more. “I’ll get them drafted up tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow is Sunday.”

“And?”

“Don’t you wanna enjoy the weekend?”

Hank simpered, “What’s a weekend?”

<><><>

Hank strolled past the security gate and swooped his briefcase up. The visiting room in the prison was bare and beat up. He was seated at the table, waiting, reading emails. As soon as the prisoners were trickling into the room, he kept an eye on the door.

The moment Rich walked in, he hesitated seeing Hank. Unlike with Y/N, he ventured into the room and pulled the chair back, sitting across the table from Hank.

“Surprised you haven’t found yourself in max yet. I was expecting to talk to you through glass. Whatever works though,” Hank clipped, sitting up straight.

“What are you doing here?” Rich asked, his tone tight. He ignored Hank’s jab.

“Thought you’d never ask,” Hank said, opening his briefcase and pulling out the pile of papers. He tossed them onto the table and leaned back, waiting for Rich to respond.

Rich stared at them for a few moments and shrugged, “What are these? Early release? I thought I made it clear I didn’t want you representing me anymore.”

“Ah, no,” Hank laughed. He was unable to hold it back. “Divorce papers actually. And I’m not representing you. I’m representing Y/N.”

Rich’s face darkened and he snapped, “What?”

“She’s divorcing you now that she’s not afraid you’re gonna bash her in with a monkey wrench. You’re right here, my man. And she’s free out there.” He leaned in closer and said, “Seriously, you fucking up the way you did worked out best for everyone. She’s positively glowing.” He tapped the papers and said, “So, it’s all in here. Just need you to read it over, get your signature, and it’ll be solid.”

Rich was staring harshly at Hank and Hank could pinpoint the moment the realization washed over him. He looked murderous. “You.”

“Yeah, me.”

“You son of a bitch. Just swooping in when you saw weakness,” Rich growled, slamming his hand on the table. The guards took notice and he immediately reeled it in, much to Hank’s amusement who had not even flinched. Through gritted teeth, Rich vowed, “You’re not going to get away with this. She’s my wife—"

“Yeah, a wife you have refused to see for over a year because what? You’re mad you had to come to her rescue because you were rolling too hard to pay proper attention as she almost got assaulted? Great. Husband of the year award right for you. I’ll make sure it’s delivered.”

“I’m not going to roll over on this!”

Hank waved him off, quipping. “Take it to court then. We know how well that worked out for you last time.” He smiled cruelly, “Do you understand how even more easy it would be for me this time to get them to turn against you than the DA did last time? I could easily paint myself as the white knight and yeah, sure, you would get a day out of the prison to come to court, which might seem worth it to you, but it is worth the cost for good representation? I don’t think so. You will get the floor mopped with you and the end result would be the same.”

Rich looked furious and Hank threw his hands out. “Think about it this way. Once you’re out, you can find another woman who was just as naïve and young as Y/N and do what you will. It’s wiping the slate clean for you, fresh start. Plus, Y/N’s already pregnant, so she’s pretty settled in already with me. Don’t wanna go messing that up cause trust me, motherfucker, I will make that hell for you. I’ve got the resources to do so. And man, do I have a vendetta against your ass. So, do you really want to try me?” If Rich could look more furious. His fists were clenched on the table, shaking, but he was keeping himself from lunging across the table. Hank was even impressed; the bastard really did not want to go to max.

Clearing his throat, Hank leaned over and grabbed his briefcase, standing up. “Anyways, you can wipe your ass with that if you want, but it’s still going to go forward. And I have more copies. Just let me know what you wanna do.” He pulled a business card out of his pocket and carelessly tossed it onto the table. “In case you forgot my number, champ.”

<><><>

Hank came up behind you and kissed at the nape of your neck. “You didn’t need to do this.”

“You weren’t home when you normally do it,” you told him, running the water from the hose over the hydrangeas that he cherished so much.

“I’m only thirty minutes late,” Hank chuckled.

“But you are particular.”

“That I am,” he breathed, kissing you again on your shoulder. He nuzzled in and nipped at your ear, drawing a smile out of you. “I got the papers back today.”

That caused you to stall, your hand dropping every so slightly, the water not arching as high. It had been a couple weeks since Hank had gone to the prison and all he had told you was that he had left the papers with Rich. You had not heard anything since. Hearing that he had actually sent them back signed…

He noticed your demeanor and his hands came around you, coming to your stomach. He held you protectively there and breathed reassuringly, “Looks like our family is going to be okay.”

~~~

Marvel tags: @coconutqueen21 @undecidedsworld @holl2712 @agustdowney  @biiskuitx

[utterlyhopeful-fics]

Too Late

A/N: CONSENSUAL HATE SEX SMUT AHEAD. THIS IS MY WARNING. 

Masterlist 

Angel Reyes x Reader

Word Count: 2050k

Warnings: TRIGGERING CONTENT, consensual sex, hate sex, JUST DIRTY SEX, language, angst. 

***************************************

“I can’t do this anymore. I can’t be your dirty little secret, Angel. Stop backing me into a corner.”

His vehement tone pierced her eardrums, anger radiated coursing through the evening air; “What the hell do ya mean, Y/N? It takes two to tango. Don’t act like I forced this on you. You decided to cross a line. We both did!”  

“And now I’m ending it. Done. Over. Finished.”

Her austere hands sliced at in the invisible air hoping to rid herself of the frustration taking ahold of her.

Angel couldn’t tell if she was joking with him or poking at his inner workings. He’d heard her pleas so many times before he knew better than to believe her this time around. They were unstoppable, a magnetic pull that never ceased, always driving them together.

“Querida, I’ve heard this sob story before. Save me the bullshit this time.”

Y/N scoffed; “You seriously don’t get it, do you?”

His quizzically confused look almost made her laugh aloud as she covered her mouth. Angel Reyes never thought he’d see the day Y/N would stand up to him. In their battle for dominance, Angel hadn’t detected her deflated stance.

“Get what? Enlighten me, Y/N. What don’t I get about you, huh?”

“I’m done playing this game. I don’t want you anymore. Isn’t screwing Adelita enough for you to stay sated?”

His pupils dilated swallowing the whites of his eyes. Fear momentarily gripped every rigid bone in his body.

“What the fuck did you just say?”

“I didn’t stutter. You heard me, Reyes. I can’t decide if I’m the fool or you’re the idiot for thinking you’d get away with it? How many times did you fuck her and come crawling to my bed afterwards?”

Angel snapped shoving her roughly against the brick wall behind Y/N, his fingers indented into her arms leaving his burdensome fury. But what truly scared Y/N was the flicker of pure rage simmering just underneath his deceptive caramel irises. There was no trace of her Angel, the one she’d so grossly loved.

His tongue clicked with every single word that left his lips; “You don’t’ want to start this. I can promise you won’t like where it goes next…”

She peered into him unwilling to back down from the monster amongst her and welcomed his stabbing gaze. Y/N challenged him, calling his bluff.

“This is the last time you ever touch me in any shape or form. I’m fucking done with you. You. Disgust. Me.”

She spewed every syllable directly into his angelically sculpted face. Angel slammed her harder against the brick increasing her frightful nature.  

“If I’m so disgusting, why are you here alone with me? Did you pep talk yourself into believing you can seriously walk away from me?”

His vice-like grip caused Y/N to cringe whimpering slightly. He leaned closer leaving just an inch between their bodies whispering; “You’re mine. Whether you like it or not. Tough shit, baby.”

Y/N growled attempting to break his sturdy clutch but Angel only squeezed harder.

Y/N gritted through clenched teeth; “Go fuck yourself.”

“I already have. And I bet if I were to slide my hand down into your jeans, I’d find you fucking soaked. You hate that I can read your body, the tilt of your hips my direction begging to be fucked. Shit, I bet you want me to take you right here where anyone could see.

“No, stop it. I don’t want this Angel. I—I’m in love with him.”

Angel pulled back looking her straight in the eye. Bewilderment the only registerable emotion.

“You what?”

“I’m seeing someone and it’s getting serious. I can’t – I won’t continue to do this to him.”

His vision tinted to an intense red unable to tame the violence mounting within him. For the first time in Angel Reyes’s life, he was speechless. Only one question lingered at the forefront of his mind: who.

“Do I know him?”

Her silence was unwavering and it pissed him off even further.

“Answer me.”

Again, Y/N remained diligent in her muteness before nodding. A meek ‘Yes.’ slithered from her.

Stillness erupted as they stared at the other watching every grimace, waiting to see who would make the next move. The hush sound of nothingness was beginning to drown them forcing them closer to destruction.

“You knew how I felt about you and manipulated it to the best of your abilities. Since forever, I’ve just wanted you to choose me, pick me, but you never do!”

Tears swarmed her weepy eyes as Y/N tried to collect her ramblings.

“I can’t be your side piece forever. If anything, you forced my hand. I need appreciation…affection of sorts. I crave to be someone’s first choice and I think I’ve found it.”

Angel grunted; “Who is it?”

“Coco.”

“No, NOO! My brothers are off limits. Mayans are MY family, not yours. Shit, aren’t you the little slut? Maybe we should vote and make you the groupie whore?”

Spit spattered her flushed cheeks as he slid a knee directly between her thighs.

“You’re angry, I get it. But now you’re just being cruel. I don’t owe you any explanations. Last time I checked I was single and able to do whatever the hell I wanted. Besides rumor has it Adelita is knocked up. Congrats, daddy.”

Angel exploded kissing her achingly stiff. His tongue maneuvered across her lips begging for access. She greedily accepted as a resounding moan tumbled out. Angel devoured her like she was his last meal, licking every available drop she offered. His knee grazed the divide in between her jeans rubbing tantalizing circles.

“I will always desire you, Y/N. You’re my forbidden fruit. Horny, aren’t you?”

A mere whimper was all Y/N was able to muster; “Yes. I hate you. I hate you for doing this to me.”

“No, you don’t. The face you make when you cum will be satisfactory enough for me… soon enough you’ll be pleading for my cock to be inside you. I dare you to tell me I’m wrong.”

Her nonverbal cues turned him more so. The face that Y/N wasn’t denying him only proved that she wasn’t ready to give him up.

“He’ll never fuck you like I do, make you cum like I can. After this, when you’re lying underneath him, you’ll imagine my dripping cock thrusting up into you. Baby tell me you want it. I need to you to fucking say it.”

Hesitation flittered throughout her entire body, but her hips gyrated against his knee insatiably. A wet blotch appeared on his jeans proving just how turned on she was by their entire encounter.

He snarled once more; “Say it and I’m yours.”

“Yes, okay? Are you happy now?”

“Actually, yes. I’m fucking ecstatic.”

Angel’s hands quickly maneuvered towards the button of her pants opening with a resounding snap. His violent tugs involuntarily forced her to reach for Angel’s shoulders as he stripped her off the offending clothing.

“This is the last time. It doesn’t mean shit, A.”

“You keep telling yourself that baby girl.”

Y/N’s shaky hands approached his familiar belt buckle with their well-established routine. With quick work of his zipper, Y/N plunged into his boxers grasping his semi hard dick. In the blink of an eye, Angel shoved her panties aside and forced two fingers willingly inside her. The sensation caused Y/N’s head to crack against the wall as she wailed in pleasure.

She locked her lips with his once again devouring for any semblance of control, but he met her with resistance every inch of the way.

The squelching noise of her pussy was the only sound heard other than their intense breathing. Y/N stimulated him moving faster than before, gripping harshly at his moistened tip. Pre-cum coated his dick as Angel heavily sighed.

In the dim alleyway of some towny bar two people were too lost in each other to notice their surroundings.

“Your wetness tells a different story. Feels like I’m right where I should be.”

“Well then fuck me and fuck me good.”

In a millisecond Angel flipped Y/N jostling her chest now on the cool brick. With her jeans around her ankles, Y/N was fully open to Angel. She pushed her ass against him grinding slowly. Angel’s fingers tangled in her hair before pulling hard leaning her on his shoulder blade. His hand shifted towards his exposed cock as he teased her entrance rubbing against her folds.

“Shit, you’re drenched for a girl indebted on ending things. Ya sure you want this?”

Without any uncertainty, she blindly agreed. Angel placed her hands against the wall to support her. He again circled her accepting hole as Y/N impatiently waited.

“Get the fu---” Before Y/N could finish her sentence, Angel thrusted balls deep inside of her resting his forehead on her shoulder. Her walls securely hugged him unwilling to surrender.

“Ah, ah. If you keep gripping me like that I won’t last. Relax baby.”

Y/N exhaled overwhelmed by the sensations taking ahold of her as Angel lunged inwards. The slapping of skin echoed around the abandoned area. Their moans intermingled into one as each thrust was met with enthusiasm. Angel’s hips slid against hers as his hand wrapped around her throat. His constricted grip blocked her airways causing her eyelids to flutter shut. Fireworks shot off behind her closed lids. His other hand connected with her pulsating clit as he rubbed forceful motions. He had Y/N right where he wanted her all along. He continued to fuck her hard hearing her wails of lust overcome him.

Angel motioned close to her inner ear; “I’m the only one who makes you feel like this.”

Y/N was met with a harsh thrust triggering her to push back against his pelvis. She met him push for prod. The ache in her belly elicited ferocious tremors to erupt within her. She was a woman scorned; someone she didn’t recognize anymore. Y/N was terrified yet excited; two feelings she could no longer differentiate. Angel picked up his pace slamming into her full force.

In his rumbled tone; “This moment. This exact moment of complete bliss… from me to you. This is what I want with you. What I need. What we both desire.”

Her inner walls clenched initiating Angel’s balls to quiver.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

“I..I—I’m about to cum.”

Angel’s hand reared back slapping her ass starkly as she tightened around his sensitive cock. He sped up ramming into her repeatedly murmuring incoherently. Her saturated pussy was beyond repair as her orgasm began to surface. Her gritted teeth and clasped walls allowed Angel one final mind-blowing plunge deep into Y/N.

“Shit, Angel. Right there, don’t fucking stop.”

Angel bottomed out within her quaking barriers as he came deep in her womb. Hot spurts shot into her as he succumbed to a heavenly orgasm. His warm cum filled her inner crevices as she unknowingly clamped solidly on his cock. Her walls ached with release as she sporadically came undone. Her right hand stretched back grasping for Angel’s hair as she came down from her high. Angel’s hands guided atop hers intertwining their fingers together as their panted gasps filtered the stuffy air.

“I love you, Y/N. It’s always been you.”

With Angel still inside her, Y/N guided her hips slowly against his exciting her all over again. Angel’s cock vibrated within Y/N as she wholeheartedly embraced him. Ever so slowly, Angel removed himself from her grasp watching in awe as his cum leaked down her inner thighs. Each speedy dribble made his heart soar in astonishment. Y/N pulled her underwear and jeans up covering herself turning towards him.

“Too late. I have to move on. This isn’t healthy.”

“I know.”

She pushed her forehead to rest against his and exhaled; “For what it’s worth…I love you too.”

A bitter smile overcame him as a sense of impending doom encapsulated his very core. She kissed him one last time with every fiber of passion she could muster unwilling to break their kiss first. He kissed her back with just as much passion. They stayed that way for minutes not wanting to disrupt their peaceful bubble. But time was a cruelty as Y/N pulled away.

“I’ll see you around Reyes.”

~~~~~~~

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