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fanaticsnail · 1 month

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Play Stupid Games, Win Stupid Prizes

Masterlist Here, Pollen Masterlist Here

Word count: 7,500+

Synopsis: Doffy is attempting to gain the upper hand against you. He's longed for you, yearned for you - in his own unique way. Considering you never give in to his flirtatious advances, he takes matters into his own hands and attempts to spike your drink. The problem? Your quick wit and nimble fingers switch whisky glasses with him, causing unforeseen problems that he has no cure for…

Warnings: Doflamingo x f!reader, NSFW, 18+, Mdni, smut, pollen fic, Pollen!Doffy x Unaffected!reader, dubcon, size difference (Doffy is 10’, reader is 5’+), degradation - Doffy receiving, yandere Doffy, Doffy is a brat, mentions of drugging, mention of poison, Doflamingo is a conniving bastard, swearing, choking - Doffy receiving, Doflamingo is his own warning, Doffy begs, toxic relationship, Doffy is infatuated, love confession, marriage proposal. ‘Mi amor,’ ‘Mami,’ femme titles used for reader.

Notes: this may not be everyone's cuppa, and it was absolutely something different I decided to try for pollen. Please read the warnings before reading the fic.

Tag list: @mfreedomstuff @gingernut1314 @feral-artistry @nerium-lil @writingmysanity

Sitting at the lengthy dining table, Donquixote Doflamingo extended his glass out towards the gathering of eclectic individuals. Each person present had an array of wealth, titles and reputation; all represented with their names embroidered into their napkins and painted into their drinking glasses.

Doflamingo had planned everything perfectly. He had plotted each element of the meal to have everyone relax into the welcoming environment: keeping the air light and merry. There was not a fork out of place, nor a knife unaccounted for. He wanted the mood light enough to have you not suspecting a thing to go wrong.

And everything was going exceptionally well, all according to his plan.

“To a long and healthy relationship between us all,” Doflamingo's smirk grew on his face, him turning to you with a small wink, “And to casting aside differences in the face of humility. Salud.”

“Salud,” you and the crowd repeated in unison, all arms extended with beverages in hand.

Your glasses all contained gold letters depicting your names and titles on the rim. The servers ensured the liquid was all topped up with your chosen beverage for the night. Your choice? Whisky, neat with no frills nor ice to taint the liquid. Just like your host, Donquixote Doflamingo.

All according to your plan.

As soon as you received an invitation to attend this dinner party, you knew Doflamingo was planning something sinister for you. His silly little mind games he used to attempt to get the better of you were always centric to his plans. To embarrass you, to humiliate you, to harm you, to ridicule you: this was always the aim. And you had had just about enough of this torment.

Getting information out of his menagerie of guards and house staff was simple enough. Offer them enough Berry, and their lips would never stop moving. Hearing Doflamingo’s disappearance in the town square, halting over a small shop stocked with pills and powders, had you mortified at his cruel fate he had in store for the evening.

You expected poison to meet with your lips the moment you raised your glass to meet them. Your little game would rise to the greatest crescendo yet, you clutching at your rapidly closing throat and pleading for reprieve. Considering Doflamingo was the one to purchase the powdered poison, he would likely only offer you the antidote if you begged for it.

In lieu of following through with the action of swallowing a heaping gulp of poisoned whiskey, you decided to give the pink-feathered bastard a taste of his own medicine. You reap what you sow, was how you figured it.

“Fuck around and find out,” you chanted internally. Your soft, knowing smile drew over your features; watching Doflamingo drain the contents from the glass in his hand with gusto. You mirrored his action, downing the liquid in a single gulp.

Doflamingo shot you a smirk, watching your face for any immediate changes to your body. A flush of your cheeks, a dilation of your pupils, your lips parting and becoming both drier and filling with saliva in unison. He was shocked when you returned his smile: only warmth being offered to him from your place across the dining table before turning to the woman beside you.

He initially thought drugging you with a form of poison would be a hilarious sight: watching you claw at your neck and beg for the antidote in front of a room of his wealthy guests gave him a sick sense of satisfaction. But to give you an incredibly potent aphrodisiac with no known cure aside from giving into your cravings? Why, the thought alone made his cock twitch in eager anticipation.

He wanted nothing more than to have you shed your fine clothes of their place on your body, tearing them at the seams and beg for him to finally fuck you. He wanted you so desperate for him, you'd care not of the fact the room was full with those in your same league of formal standing.

As you had always turned down his prior advances of you; he wanted to claim you publically, and leave no room for misinterpretation for his ownership of you. He wanted you to want him, to yearn for him, to plead for his cock with lust oozing from your body in rapid waves.

He wanted you to want him in the same way he chased his release into his palm every night since your first introduction together. He wanted you the same way he would pay concubines to pretend to be you: copying your mannerisms, immigrating your vocal cadence, wearing similar attire.

It was never enough for him. He wanted the real thing, and he hoped this final push would have you want him back.

His craving to have you on your knees and begging for his cock to fill you to the brink with his cum, your neediness flushing your face, the whines and whimpers you'd elicit was too much for his mind to catch up with. He was already feeling aroused by the thought alone, confused at how alite his body felt with just the simple flash of erotic imagery.

Suddenly the room was hot. Too hot. His clothes were too tight, the lights were too bright; causing him to wince behind his rosy glasses. His cheeks tinted with a soft pink, his body immediately becoming ignited with the hot beads of glistening sweat.

He attempted to process the feeling, the stiffness of his erection brushing painfully against his striped, leather pants. Eyes widening and teeth clenching, he hissed out a winced breath as the sensitive buds of his nipples grazed against the open jacket firmly clutched against his chest.

Looking down at the glass in his hands, his lips parted with horror.

Your name was intricately painted in perfect cursive on the rim, each letter sparkling in the light illuminating the room. He snapped his face over to you, watching as your smile climbed up at the corners of your lips.

Remaining blissfully unaware of how much torture you narrowly avoided, you asked the waiter for another glass of whiskey for yourself and your companion beside you.

The glass in your hand had his name “Donquixote Doflamingo” in coiled lettering on the rim. As the waiter filled it, you held your eyes firmly against your conversation partner before you slowly sipped at the contents within.

The cruel reality of his situation now dawned on him.

He had unintentionally spiked himself with the incurable aphrodisiac, in public, instead of you. And now his body was desperate to see his lust satisfied by any means necessary.

“And what did he say, Maria?” you asked the woman beside you, your attention fully fixed on her eyes as she relayed her tale.

“He said: ‘a goddess as radiant as you should have men falling to their knees in adoration’,” Maria mocked in a lower, masculine tone. You bit back your smirk, eyeing her dangerously.

“And what did you do in response to that?” you urged her with an excitement in your knowing tone.

“I let him worship,” she smirked at you. Both of you became overcome with a fit of giggles, laughing at the sheer audacity of her promiscuous nature. You tapped her forearm with your hand playfully, enjoying a soft shove in return from her shoulder.

Of the guests amongst you: Maria and you had known each other the longest. Both of you felt out of place here, being two of the few women present. You were roughly of similar ages, both unmarried and unspoken for. She had a soft-spot for the marines, her latest conquest being the right-hand man of Vice-Admiral Garp.

“You are incorrigible,” you tease her, with a soft, “Atta girl,” added, nudging her with your shoulder before elevating your drinking glass up to take a sip.

“Speaking of,” she returned your gentle nudge with one of her own, “Doflamingo’s glass? How'd you manage that?” She gestured to the cup in your hand.

“Bribed the server,” you smirked, clinking the rim of the cup with the one in her own hand, “Had a feeling a game was afoot. And you know what they say,” you leant against her shoulder, both fixing your eyes on the blonde man at the head of the table.

“Play stupid games,” you both uttered in unison, “Win stupid prizes," concluding with a sinister chuckle,

Your host for the night was hunched over the table, his teeth clenched firmly shut and soft beads of sweat were rapidly now gathering at his temple. This only solidified your suspicions, noticing the silence he was presenting in lieu of his usual conversation.

Raising your brow, you remained focussed on him as the grip his hands perched against the table made his knuckles flash white. Curiosity plagued you, unsure as to why he was not asking his staff for the antidote to cure him. He was obviously under the effects of some kind of poison, his heavy breathing and indicator of such a plight.

Why would he not ask for help?

His eyes meet with yours, his frown deep and teeth grimacing. Quietly raising your eyebrows at him, you gently extend his glass in the air to add further sting to the ridicule. His eyes drew up to glare beneath his pink glasses. His pupils were focussed on your body, noticing every exposed area of flesh remaining unshrouded on the neckline of your button-up shirt. His eyes attempted to undress you, his gaze scorching you beneath his rose-tinted glasses.

Noticing his gaze, you hum in deep thought. Shrugging your shoulders back, you turn to Maria beside you and give her a short nudge. Upon finishing her final bite of dessert, she turned towards you.

“I’m going to go and gloat for a minute at my quick swipe,” you smirk at the woman to your side, “I'll be back once I'm satisfied he's ‘faced his humility’.”

“Be safe!” she giggled, ushering you on with two quickened waves of her hands.

“I'll be so safe,” you mocked her in return. Rising to your feet, you tucked your chair beneath the table and watched as several others did the same. All mingling amongst one another, you made yourself comfortable in a now vacant seat beside Doflamingo.

“Doflamingo,” you nodded your acknowledgement, crossing your knees beneath the table and nudging his calf with your foot, “You've been awfully quiet tonight.” Trailing your toes over his calf, you noticed the hitch of his breath as he balled his knuckles into clenched fists.

“Something amiss?” You asked him, placing down your drinking glass for the night while circling the rim with your index finger, “Something not quite going according to plan, perhaps?” Your smile grew as you noticed his shoulders tense, his breath hitch and his legs began to shake beneath your foot.

Gently trailing your toes higher, you eyed his reaction cautiously. His body was as hard as polished marble, his hair now slightly damp with a small amount of sweat gathering on his forehead.

“Oh, Doffy,” you hissed a small whisper, your foot now tracing the outer edge of his thigh, “What the fuck were you attempting to poison me with this time?” You clicked your tongue at him, pouting through pursed lips, “Doesn't look like it's quite agreeing with you.”

“Out,” he whispered in a gruff bark.

The quiet growl cut through the air like a steel knife carving through tough flesh. All guests immediately drew their eyes over to the pink-feathered host with a snap of their chins towards him.

“I said out,” he snarled, his eyes frantically darting between each member attending the dinner party, “Everyone out. Out now.”

You flinched at his change of tone, jumping back in your seat but refusing to hede to his dictation. Doflamingo felt his blood ignite with a passionate lust he had never experienced. He needed the cure, and he needed it now.

Each guest rose to their feet, murmuring amongst themselves as they hastily fled the space with caution. Against your better judgment to follow suit, you remained behind and rose the glass marked ‘Donquixote Doflamingo’ to your lips and finished the remaining liquid within.

Whiskey burned its way down your throat, the honey-sweet notes lingering on your palate as you placed the glass down once more. You rose to your feet and grasped for the water jug in front of Doflamingo and poured your emptied glasses with the icy water.

“You don't look so good, sweetheart,” you cooed in a mocking gloat, placing the water glass with your name in front of him, “Have a drink, you'll feel better.” Doffy remained unmoving, clenching his eyes tightly shut as his body fought against itself.

He tried to convince himself he'll manage this. He'll get through it without asking for your aid. He'll be able to withstand the potency of the aphrodisiac without becoming a whimpering mess in front of you.

But then you spoke.

And you kept speaking.

Your sweet voice cut into his resolve with expert precision. Haunting him, cursing him with the ridicule that you should've been experiencing. He attempted to control his urges by gulping back a dry mouthful of saliva and concentrating on slowing his breathing.

“Oh, come now,” you scolded the tall, blonde, “Nothing to say for yourself, huh?” You leaned your hips back on the table and eyed him cautiously, “Not even going to order the staff to get the oral antidote for whatever you've-.”

“-There is no oral antidote,” he spat through gritted teeth. He tried to ignore the twitch of his cock at the mention of ‘come’ and ‘oral’ from your lips. The swelling blood pooling in his cock had the shiny tip brushing against his leather pants. He mewled at the small twitch of his oversensitive knob, attempting to disguise his whimper with a soft cough.

The air grew thick and tense; silence swelling in an uncomfortable dance of fluttering heartbeats. After taking a moment to hone in on your thoughts, you slowly inhaled and exhaled alongside externally verbally processing.

“You were going to have me drink a poison tonight that had no cure?” you uttered darkly, “And watch me convulse as I took my last breaths?” Down turning your snarl and drawing up your heckles, you placed your foot on Doflamingo's bare chest and kicked hard. You glared into his shrouded eyes.

“You were going to publicly execute me in front of your guests?” you continued, “My friends, my colleagues, my potential clients? Doflamingo,” you continued, leaning down and pressing your chest into your knee, “You deserve your cruel fate. Suffer, asshole.”

A shaky, large hand slowly drew itself up and softly cupped your ankle. He cautiously lifted your foot off his chest and pressed his lips against the ball of your foot. As soon as that kiss ended, another was placed slightly higher up into your inner calf.

He removed your shoe, casting it to the side of him as he groped at you with his large hands. Hastily drawing his hands down to collect your other foot, he rid the presence of your shoe from you before placing your toes down on his thigh.

Shock wrote itself on your face as a flurry of several more kisses were pressed into you. Each kiss was accompanied by a strangled whimper falling from Doflamingo's lips: breath hitched, brows furrowed and throat humming out the calls of desperation.

“It h-has a cure, mi amor,” he softly whined into your leg, “Just not a manufactured one.” His lips could barely part with your skin, each soft kiss growing hungrier the further up your legs he drew. Humming through several more of his kisses, you were too terrified to truly correlate his affectionate advances to any known experience prior.

Donquixote Doflamingo had always been intrigued by you. Always finding some way to bully, vex and torture you. This was something you never anticipated. His desperation in need for you was now depicted as his tongue raked up your thighs: his moist organ dampening your pants with a long and lustful streak of saliva.

“Absolutely not,” you spat, forcing Doflamingo back into his seat by pressing your foot against his chest once again. “What the fuck, Doflamingo?” He mewled as your heel grazed his right nipple, his body crying out in relief and arousing itself further.

From this angle, you hastily drew your eyes down to the large polearm hoisting up his pants in a perfect peaked tent. His large cock left very little to the imagination beneath the shroud of his leathery pants.

He whispered your name, the last syllable calling out in a soft sob. His breaths were both deep and shallow, his body hot and cold, his mind clear and cloudy - he had no idea how to process these emotions. All he knew is he needed you. He wanted you. He craved you.

Disgust was now openly displayed on your features at his desperation, watching the mighty King of Dressrosa sob and cry for you like a child that had a favorite toy hovering just out of reach. His hands began opening and closing, the strings of his devil-fruit power beginning to hover in his fingertips; only to fizzle away as soon as they formed.

“What were you attempting to spike me with tonight?” you hissed at the blonde king, adding an emphatic kick to his chest to regain his attention.

“An aphrodisiac,” he admitted, choking on his confession as he attempted to withhold it, “One so potent, the only cure for it is s-sex.” He moaned with his hissed admission, throwing his head back and whimpering.

You sucked in a horrified gasp, recoiling as you understood exactly what he was admitting to you. You took a moment to collect your thoughts and mull over your next actions. Hardening your resolve, you shook it off and removed your foot from his chest, before straightening up your clothes.

“Fuck you, Doflamingo,” you spat, beginning to walk away from him and collect your discarded shoes. He spun in his chair, almost knocking the seat over with the haste he followed you with.

“Where are you going?” he whispered your name, falling onto his knees and needily following you with desperate longing. You growled, pairing your shoes and beginning to attempt to exit the dining room.

“Getting you your concubines,” you spat over your shoulder, “Only cure for this is sex, and there is no way you're getting that from me,” Your hand hovered the doorknob, halting as a large hand drew down onto your knuckles and held your hand firmly away from it.

“Don’t,” he huffed a gruff growl, his body leaning unconsciously towards you.

“You want the cure? I'm getting it for you,” you whispered, rage bubbling within your chest, “It's likely better than the fate you had in store for me.”

Silence was once again uncomfortable between you, your confirmation solidified in the quiet of his response.

“You would've had me beg for it, wouldn't you?” you uttered darkly, “Have me grovel and plead for release in front of the entire dinner party.” His hand tightened over yours, bordering on painful.

“Yes,” he admitted in an icy tone. He sucked in his bottom lip, clenching his teeth over them and moaned while inhaling your scented perfume.

“And who was going to be the likely cure for this tonight?” you shot over your shoulder, noticing his face was hovering closely against your shoulder, “You?”

“Yes,” he whined, hovering his body behind yours and caging it against the door.

“You bastard,” you spat, turning around to face him and breaking your hand away from his, “You don't deserve a cure for this-.”

“-I know,” he sobbed, dropping to his knees in front of you, “I know, I know. I just-...”

“Just what, Doffy?” you growled at him, “What now? After all this, what-?”

“-I just wanted you to want me how desperately I want you,” he confessed in a single breath, his words fleeing from him with unbridled gusto, “I wanted you to want me so badly, your body couldn't stand another moment without me. And now that I've taken the fucking drug instead of you,” he lunged towards you, clutching at your thighs, “I can barely keep up with how much I want you.”

“Doffy, what are you-?” you began, your breath hitching in a shriek as he ripped off your pants in a quick swipe. “Doflamingo!” you yelped as he buried his nose against your clothed cunt.

“Let me taste you,” he whined, nuzzling against your panties with his nose and greedily lapping at the cotton with his lengthy tongue, “Please, let me have you cry for me. I n-need you.”

“Doffy,” you uttered sharply, nudging his shoulders away from you - which did nothing to halt his enthusiastic advance. He instead circled his arms around your thighs and hooked them over his shoulders.

Shrieking, your back was now placed against the door: Doflamingo's head buried deep between your thighs as he clasped his hands around your ass to hold you in place. Greedily bobbing his head, he began lapping at your cunt with his slippery tongue, paying no mind at all to the fact what he wanted most was shrouded by the fabric of your panties.

With each cruel swipe, a single word was chanted in a penance-like prayer. The word was music to your ears, your resolve crumbling with each whimpered petition. The song of his desperate pleading beckoned you to let go and give into him.

“Please.” He hooked his lengthy tongue beneath the fabric, clenching his teeth on the elastic and noseying it aside with his chin. “Please.” Flattening his tongue, he gasped as he tasted your sweet nectar and swirled his organ over your clit. “Please.”

The ache in his pants was so strong, he could barely take another moment not being buried to the hilt within you. He continued to make an effort to withhold his cravings, to ensure you were ready to take him, as he was twice your size in every way.

Being the giver was not his strength. Doflamingo would take, take, take until there was nothing left to take from his bedmates. He wanted to chase his release, no matter the consequences his large cock would indent while sheathed within a partner. He simply didn’t care about them, but he did care about you. He wanted you to want him so badly, desperate to earn your approval and love. He needed you to know how far he was willing to go to ensure this was as good for you as it was going to be for him.

You barely had a moment to adjust to what was happening to you. Replaying the events of the evening perplexed you with even more confusion.

Doflamingo invited you to dinner with the intention of poisoning you. A poison that was an incurable aphrodisiac that made you desperate for sex with any willing partner. The reason he wanted to poison you with this was because he liked you, and wanted to pursue you romantically. And instead of asking to formally court you, he decided spiking your drink in public was the answer.

You had every right to push him away, to tell him “no,” and to halt his advances. But at each skillful swipe of his tongue, you felt more of yourself melting away beneath his humility. His apology dictated to you with each intentional swirl of his lengthy tongue.

“Doffy,” you mewled to him, feeling his tongue dip into your slick entrance. His nose circled your clit, his skillful organ greedily flicking in and out of your cunt while hooking up within you to climb deeper into your body. Your walls clenched around his tongue, his chin spiriting you towards bliss as he ground your pussy against his face.

“Please,” he muffled into your core, desperately lapping up your arousal like a dog parched for water, “Please, please.” You felt your stomach tighten, his aggressive chase of your high with his lips wrapping around your sensitive bud ushering you to your unravel.

“Doffy, wh-what are you-oh!” your breathy gasp had his hands pawing at your ass, grinding your core against his face harder to urge you closer to your high. Your hands pawed at the wall behind you to brace yourself against it. You found the pit of your stomach wind tighter and shoot sparks down your legs. He moaned into you, expressing his gratitude at your body beginning to give into him and release your inhibitions onto his face.

“Please cum,” he begged, slurping messily and lapping up your juices, “Cum on my tongue. I n-need it.”

Your hands shot down to his hair, clutching at the strands in heaped fistfuls. As the coil inside you snapped, your lips formed a perfect ‘O’ as he channeled his desperation into meeting your needy thrusts and grinds against his head. “Let go, let go,” he begged you, his face becoming coated by your gushing slick.

“D-Doffy! Oh, f-fuck. Oh fuck, I'm cumming. You fucking prick, Doffy!” You mewled his name, crying for him with your eyes clenched tightly shut.

His hair began to burn within your fists, but he truly didn’t care. His tongue lapped up your gushing cunt over emphatically while grinding you skillfully against his nose, lips, tongue and chin. Riding your high, Doflamingo continued to hold you against his face as your soul fell back inside your body.

“So good,” the older Donquixote brother complimented you, looking up at you through his glasses, “Now let me fuck you.” He withdrew your hips from his head, attempting to wrap your legs around his waist and shepherd you over the waistband of his pants.

He pawed at the front button, his cock immediately springing forth and glistening in the light. Eyes spread wide with worry, you shook your head after feeling yourself recover from your high. Your underwear once again shrouded your glistening core, protecting you from a small twitch of interest from Doflamingo’s aching and incredibly large cock.

“No, Doffy,” you firmly commanded, wriggling yourself away from his hold over you. As you side stepped, his hands extended in longing with outstretched, splayed fingers. He whimpered, his body leaning down and shaking with desire.

��B-But I-...” he didn't get a chance to speak, as you growled over his pleas.

“-You pinned me to the wall, and forced me cum on your face after you attempted to poison me,” you barked at him, “And now you expect me to help you by what? What, Doffy?” you snarled intp his face, baring your teeth at him, “You want me to sit on your cock and ride you until you cum? Tsk, pathetic.”

A sound you were not expecting to exhale through Doflamingo's lips at this moment. He sobbed, his lips quivering as his hands shuddered. His lengthy digits hovered over his cock, desperately wanting to chase his high into his fist: only withholding it because he knew it would make his situation all the more severe. He knew he couldn’t cum without external, other bodily stimuli. He needed you to help him, and he bit back a soft sob as his eyes grew glossy behind his pink glasses.

“I need you,” he whimpered, “I need you so badly. I needed you when you were first introduced to me, and I have needed you ever since.”

“I simply do not care, Doflamingo,” you spat in return, his soft sob doing nothing to break you away from your resolve, “The only thing I’ll do for you is get you a concubine to sleeve your cock in, but otherwise I am done.”

“I don’t want them, I want you,” he whimpered, shaky hands balling into his covered thighs. His cock twitched in the air, the veiny underside throbbing with pulsating longing. You fold your arms over your chest, looking down on the taller man with absolute disgust. He held your gaze with his shrouded eyes, disguising his longing behind their tinted hue.

“You repulse me,” you snarled, walking over to his kneeling position on the floor.

“I adore you,” he mewled through his confession, gasping as you grasped his girthy shaft.

“You don’t deserve this,” you began pumping his shaft, flicking your thumb over his glistening knob.

“You deserve the world,” he confessed, a small release of tears began expelling from his eyes. You halted your fisting of his cock, focussing your unrelenting grasp over his tip and squeezing it.

“I despise you,” you spat, using your unoccupied hand to pry his glasses away from his face; throwing them on the table beside you. As soon as your attention returned to his now unconcealed eyes, your breath was stolen from your lungs.

“I desire you,” he whispered, blinking slowly with his lengthy blonde eyelashes. You understood now why he concealed them behind his sinister glasses. His irises were a pastel pink, eyes expressive now they were unshrouded by the coloured glass. There was no lie presented within his eyes, honesty being the only inhabitant lying within. He was a very pretty man, especially with his whole face now presented to the light.

“You make me sick,” you lied through gritted teeth as you rolled your neck, stepping out of your panties and straddling his lap, “You are foul,” you anchored your knees against his hips, placing your heels firmly on the floor beside him, “Obnoxious and detestable.”

“Mami, stop teasing me with your horrible words,” he moaned, “I’ll cum.”

“You’ll cum when I allow you to cum,” you retorted firmly. The bob of his adams apple did not escape your notice, nor did the soft roll of his glassy pastel eyes. You clicked your tongue, lining up your slit with the tip of his cock.

“Don’t you fucking move, Doflamingo,” you barked your orders at him, “You’re a great deal larger than I am, and I am no mere whore you paid to fuck yourself stupid in.” He sucked in a soft whimper as he felt your prior release coat his knob, “I don’t particularly enjoy taking partners twice my size, and I don’t want to get hurt because you decided you wanted to buck up suddenly.”

“I-I won’t, mi amor,” he stuttered, crying out a little with his lips parted, “I’ll be a good boy, I swear. So good for you.”

“Pathetic prick,” you mewled at him, eyes wincing as your body adjusted to taking his tip inside you, “It hurts,” you cried out a little as your body began to sink onto him. Your slow descent atop his cock, impaling yourself on his thick shaft, had your breath hitch and a soft whimper leave you, “And you were going to rail me with it, weren’t you?”

He stooped low, covering his eyes by burying his head against your clavicle. He huffed out his restraint, his voice shuddering as he felt your walls stretch to accommodate him. Wrapping his arms around your back, his fingertips ghosted around your body to trace gentle encouraging circles against your skin.

“Answer me, asshole,” you sobbed, slowly sinking down as you felt the blunt, mushroomed tip begin to kiss your cervix, “You owe me that much.” Anchoring your hands against his shoulders, you braced yourself as you continued to inch your way down his lance of a cock. The girth was almost the width of your forearm, your glistening walls struggling to stretch to accommodate him.

His shoulders shook, his lips finding your collar bone and pressing gentle kisses against it. He winced as he disciplined his body to wait for you to adjust to him, sniffing back a small cry.

“Th-The pollen makes you-... nnnmpph-... Makes your arousal heighten,” he winced at his resolve, bracing you within his arms and snaking his large hand up your back, “You would’ve b-been too far gone to care.”

“Is that what you are, Doflamingo?” you snarled at him, sinking yourself past your limit to suck more of his full length inside your body, “Too far gone to care?”

“I want you, mi amor,” he murmured into your shoulder, nose rubbing against your neck and brushing your blouse away from covering your chest, “Although, I a-am reaching my l-limit for tolerance. I need to fuck you. I need t-to cum inside you.”

“Don’t you fucking dare move,” you whimpered at him, “You’re too f-fucking b-big.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he exclaimed, tearing his face away from you to look into your eyes, “I am so sorry.” His expressive eyes pleaded for you to understand how hard he was trying to hold himself back. His pink irises were eclipsed by his blown pupils, his lips open and panting, his temple bleeding with drops of heavy sweat. He couldn’t help a soft rock of his hips, testing how your body adjusted to him.

“Stop!” you barked at him, “Stop that right now or I’ll leave.” Doffy whined, prying open your shirt with one quick rip, tearing the buttons from the seams and revealing your bare chest to him. The buttons flew over the room, your nipples perking up now revealed to the cool of the air. Your sleeves fell down your shoulders and each inch of revealed skin was immediately replaced by Doflamingo’s lips.

“I’m r-reaching the e-end of my resolve, mi amor,” he confessed, “I-I’m c-close, and I need you to bounce a little on me. Please ride me as you are now, you d-don’t need to take any more of my length. Please just bounce on what you can take. I’ll be so good.”

“Close just from me taking your partial length? You’re so fucking pathetic,” you degraded him, your voice solid and unwavering. You felt the twitch of his cock, his body revealing more to you than he would ever audibly inform you, “Oh, you like that, don’t you?” Doffy whimpered.

“S-Stop degrading me,” he attempted to growl, his voice breaking and turning more into a breathy pant, “Stop it or I’ll cum, mi amor. I’ll cum so fucking hard for you.” His whispered confession had you elevate a sinister smirk up your lips.

“Stop calling me ‘mi amor’,” you wrapped your right hand around his throat, your left perched on his shoulder as you sunk yourself down on him, “I’m not your love. You're a conniving and devious bastard, and I despise you.”

“Just like that, Mami,” he whimpered, hands falling to your hips as you began to bounce on his cock, “I know you hate me. I adore that about you. I wanted you for so long, and you’re so, so good.”

“At least your ears work, you arrogant prick,” you released your firm hold on his throat, glaring into his eyes as you continued to take more of him into you. You became more confident in riding his swollen cock, bouncing, writhing and grinding your slick cunt against his pelvis, “Maybe there is hope for you after all-.”

“-No, no,” he begged, pressing his throat against your palm, “No: I’m nauseating, I’m disgusting, I’m pathetic. Please, please choke me. Tell me how much you hate me. Ride my cock while you tell me you find me repulsive.”

“Oh fuck, Doffy,” you bit back your moan, feeling the rapid approach of your second orgasm stampeed within your abdomen. You choked him harder, forcing his eyes to meet yours as you circled your hips on his cock. His eyes held firm to yours, feeling the tangible dislike against him from you. He fought back the urge to roll his eyes back in bliss, his balls sucked deep within his stomach the longer you rode him.

“I abhor you,” you whined, feeling him hold back meeting your bobbed movements. You finally began encouraging him to thrust up into you, your motions now rhythmic and in perfect synchrony.

“I adore you,” he whispered in return, placing his lips against your jaw and tenderly kissing you.

“I f-fucking loathe you,” you felt the familiar sparks indicating the eruption of an impending orgasm. Your pussy began contracting around him, your walls beckoning him with rhythmic throbbing.

Whimpering, your world came crashing like waves breaking down cinder blocks. You threw your head back, keening more so at the fact Doflamingo made you cum for a second time tonight. The first one was against your will, this one you ensured you were in control of.

“I fucking l-love you,” he held his eyes against yours, his orbs glassy as they filled with tears, “I love you so fucking much,” he mewled in bliss as spurts of his hot cum splashed deep within you, “I-I-... I’m cumming, oh fuck. Oh fuck. I’m c-cumming. You’re s-so good. I love you s-so fucking much. I love you.”

He cried, hot tears of relief spilling down his cheeks as he sobbed through his accentuated release. His lip quivered, his highly emotive eyes looking almost innocent the longer he rocked his hips up into yours. You squeezed his throat, choking him as your pussy milked him of his large load.

The spill of his seed dripped down your legs and onto his patterned leather pants. The blunt tip of his velvety cock continued to kiss your cervix, propelling you into a longer release. Your walls could barely contract around his cock due to the stretch, but each time Doffy’s cock released a squirt of his cum, it twitched back enough for your cunt to wring his shaft.

The twin highs seemed to last an eternity. Spurts of his load continued mixing with your slick and Doflamingo’s prior saliva. You were not sure when exactly it happened, but you found yourself within an almost loving embrace within Doflamingo’s arms. His cock was sleeved completely within you to the hilt, your arms circling his shoulders as you both hid your faces in each other’s necks. His hands gripped your waist, his blonde eyelashes ticking your shoulder as he buried himself deeper within you.

Sunk to the hilt, you remained that way until your thighs began to burn from holding your body up over his thighs. Your pussy began to ache, coming down from your high with his full length still buried within you. Unhooking your arms from his shoulders, you attempted to remove yourself from his embrace to no avail. He held you firmly, not enough to bruise, but not allowing any room for you to wriggle away from him.

“Doflamingo, release me,” you barked at him, shoving his shoulders away in an attempt to reveal his eyes to you.

He held you tighter.

“Doflamingo, let me go,” you spat, trying again to flee from his steely grip. He gripped his elbows behind your back, holding you firmer.

Your panic grew more frantic, your heart beating faster than it did when you rode through your bliss.

“Doflamingo, you will break away from me this instant,” you pushed and shoved him with all your might, only managing to have your abdomen ache at being so full for so long.

He refused.

“Doflamingo, if you don’t free me from your grip right now; I’ll-,” Doflamingo murmured against your chest, halting your wriggling and frantic movements.

“-But if I let you go, you’ll flee,” his voice whimpered, his chin anchoring against your chest and staring his blush-coloured orbs up at you. You felt yourself become breathless beneath the spell of his loving look, feeling all emotion pouring from his eyes onto you.

“Yeah, that’s the point,” you attempted to break from his embrace, only causing Doflamingo to grip you tighter.

“I don’t want this to be a one-time thing,” he massaged down your back, pressing on your hips firmly enough to lock you against him, “I meant every word I said. I love-.”

“-And I meant every word I said, Donquixote,” you winced against him, attempting to pry his hands off you by gripping his wrists. He was far stronger than you were, causing panic to rise within your chest, “I hate you.”

“Marry me.”

Those words shocked you, causing you to snap your eyes up to meet his. Again, those ruby orbs held you captive. You couldn’t believe how expressive they were.

His soul was raw behind those twin lanterns, illuminating his face with the innocence you were certain had long-since left him. Still, you remained firm - the softening of Doflamingo’s cock within you brought you crashing back to reality.

“Never.”

“Consider it,” he sighed, releasing your left thigh and cupping your cheek with his left hand, “Consider it, and you will want for nothing. That’s all I ask,” he rose from his stoop and pressed his forehead against yours, “That’s all I want. All I’ve only ever wanted.”

Using this opportunity: you hastily rose to your feet, the crude squelch of Doflamingo’s flaccid cock exiting your slit prompting you to cringe more than the embarrassment you felt at his profession of love. You felt the mix of fluids seep out of your core, dripping down your legs and onto the floor. He called your name, wincing now he felt empty and unfulfilled without you wrapped around him.

“No,” you retorted, bending down to recover your panties and pants. You wrapped your top around your chest to shield your body away from his eyes.

“You would be my queen,” he tried again, leaning forward on his knees and looking up at you, “Queen of Dressrosa. Queen of my heart. I would have you rule beside me as an equal, mi amor-.”

“-I said ‘no’, Donquixote.” Your buttons from your shirt lay scattered on the floor, your eyes darting around while arguing whether they're worth collecting.

“Please,” he whispered his soft beg, his palms finding the floor as he began to crawl towards you, “Please, I need you. I want you. I crave you. I would bleed for you, die for you, kill for you - just say you'll be mine.”

“Look,” you turned on your heel, glaring at him with enough animosity to halt his low stalking prowl, “The next time you attempt to drug me over dinner and accidentally drug yourself in my place,” you snarled, prompting Doffy’s eyes to fall half-lidded in adoration, “Do not call on me for aid, you won't find any empathy from me.”

You hurriedly thrust your panties and pants back over your sticky legs, tucking your shirt into them as Doflamingo sat back on his knees, kneeling in stunned silence. Without a further word, you made your way towards the large exit, only stopping your withdrawal when Doflamingo tried one final time to woo you.

“You didn't even let me kiss you,” he whispered in a voice so soft, you halted in place to hear him. You turned your chin, glancing at him over your shoulder as he sat in somber silence.

“If you think you're getting a kiss from me after all that-...” you began, fully turning to face him as his head lay hanging low to avoid your eyes. You sighed, finally in pity for a man who resorted to great lengths to gain your attention, “...you get one to show me your gratuity.”

Doflamingo perked up, his ruby eyes meeting with yours with the hope of a child being promised their greatest coveted prize.

In a few hasty strides, you made your way back over to Doflamingo. He continued to kneel beneath you, cock still hanging limply over the waistband of his pants. You grimaced at the flaccid cock, noticing that its limp length was still well above the average size of the cocks you'd seen prior.

You shook your head, taking Doflamingo's cheek in your palm and elevating his face to meet yours. Lips closing in a soft purse, you collected his plump lips beneath yours in a soft and tender kiss. Parting your lips, you gently grazed his mouth with a soft swirl of your tongue. He moaned against your lips, large hands perching on your hips and holding you firmly against him.

Tilting your head, you bumped Doflamingo's chin with your own to deepen it. He sighed into your mouth, allowing you to initiate how much emotion you were willing to press into him. His lips felt warm, encumbering and loving, something you were not expecting to experience from any encounter with the King of Dressrosa.

Even though he had confessed his love for you, the softness he was presenting you with was foreign in comparison to his harsh dictatorship. You swirled your hands behind his head, massaging his scalp in soothing circles. A happy chirp fled from his lips to yours, his smile evident as his tongue collided with yours.

Breaking away from his embrace, your hands raked through his blonde hair affectionately. He hummed up at you, his blonde eyelashes fluttering beneath his half-hooded eyes.

“I'll cherish the gift of your lips always, mi amor,” he sighed up, the sparkle in his ruby gaze. That title snapped you away from your daze, shaking your head and once again grimacing.

“Never call me ‘mi amor’ again, asshole,” you spat hastily, refusing to allow him a semblance of your heart, “I'm not your love, I'll never be your love. You're fucking pathetic, and I hate you.”

“Stop being mean to me,” he licked his lips, his gaze growing dark, “I’m already starting to get hard.”

#one piece #x reader #f!reader #doflamingo x reader #Donquixote Doflamingo #doffy x reader #Doflamingo smut #pollen #pollen fic #op pollen fic #doflamingo pollen #yandere #yandere Doflamingo #one piece pollen #op doflamingo #donquixote #degradation doflamingo #sub!doflamingo

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yvain · 4 months

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Women writers of the Victorian era regarded the fairy tale as a dormant literature of their own. When Charlotte Brontë's Jane Eyre hears hoofbeats approaching her in the dark, ice-covered Hay Lane, "memories of nursery stories" immediately flood her mind, especially the recollection of "a North-of-England" monster capable of assuming several bestial forms. But the beastly apparition Jane expects turns out to be Rochester, the "master" whom she promptly causes to fall off his horse and who will eventually become her thrall. Rochester himself soon shows his own conversance with, and respect for, powers he associates with the magical women of traditional fairy tales. "When you came on me in Hay Lane last night," he tells Jane, "I thought unaccountably of fairy tales, and had half a mind to demand whether you had bewitched my horse. I am not sure yet. Who are your parents?" When Jane replies that she is parentless, Rochester endows her with a supernatural ancestry. Surely, he insists, she must have been "waiting for [her] people," the fairies who hold their revels in the moonlight: "Did I break one of your rings, that you spread the damned ice on the causeway?"

Here and elsewhere in Jane Eyre, Charlotte Brontë takes even more seriously than her two characters do the potency of the female fairy-tale tradition to which she has them refer. Karen E. Rowe, who has so ably written on that tradition, was the first to show how fully saturated Jane Eyre is with patterns drawn from major folktales such as "Cinderella," "Sleeping Beauty," "Blue Beard," and, as a prime analogue for Jane's developing relationship with the homely Rochester, from "Beauty and the Beast," the 1756 Kunstmärchen (or literary fairy tale) adapted and popularized by Madame Le Prince de Beaumont.

Nina Auerbach, Forbidden Journeys: Fairy Tales and Fantasies by Victorian Women Writers

#jane eyre #gothic literature #fairy tales #nina auerbach #fiction #charlotte brontë #readings #*

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malanor3 · 3 months

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In My Soul

<NSFW>

PLEASE READ FIRST BEFORE CONTINUING

Prompt: Astarion’s heavy gaze is something that throws you into a tail-spin when you catch his feverish glances. On this particular day, he was practically undressing you with his eyes.

Pairing: Fem!Tav x Astarion

Tags: Light angst, smut, intense eye contact, fingering, cunnilingus, basically Astarion is a munch, fluff if you squint really hard

Word Count: 4,833

A/N: i’m sooo sorry this took so long, i was trying so hard to push through and make sure it was perfect but it might be a bit clunky. i write on my phone/ipad and have to edit it in post on tumblr 🫣 but i hope you guys like it i worked really hard. it’s been a few years since i’ve written anything proper but i’m pretty proud of this. it got me all hot and bothered so i must’ve done something right hopefully 😫

Nothing irked you more than when you were in the suffocating heat of battle, and in a fleeting moment catching familiar crimson eyes boring into you through the settling dust.

This was important. Focus was imperative. Yet you couldn’t ignore the rosy heat that crept on your cheeks— the feeling deep in your stomach as if it was doing somersaults. It was silly, really, and that’s why it irritated you so much.

You wanted to confront Astarion— wanted to tell him how distracting he was; how insufferable that simple act made you feel. You knew, however, it would forever be an excuse for him to torment you more. You could practically see him chuckle, pat your head, and then fixate his eyes tauntingly on you. You wanted to tear those beautiful eyes right out of his skull.

You figured you would have a moment of peace when you’d made camp that evening, but that was wishful thinking on your part.

Mending the bright and blazing fire that illuminated your dim surroundings, you couldn’t shake the feeling of eyes being on you. Curiously, your gaze wandered the camp. Shadowheart was snug in her tent just a ways from you. Karlach and Wyll seemed to be in deep conversation, paying you absolutely no mind. Lae’zel had been sound asleep for quite some time, and Gale was just across from you, but he was too busy reading to take notice of your analytical gaze. That only left one person unaccounted for, and your stomach dropped at the realization.

“Something the matter, darling?”

Your perception seemed to fail you as he took you by surprise from behind—your backside bumping into his towering figure as you jumped in shock. Peering over your shoulder with the most annoyed glance you could muster, you’re met with his mischievous glare. The rolling of your eyes indicated to him that what he was doing was working— and he loved to see every muscle in your face twitch at his efforts. You simply returned your focus to the fire.

“Would you believe me if I said no?” you remarked sarcastically as you poked and prodded the dying embers. Your ears perked at the chuckle that rumbled in his chest, but you tried your best to brush off the melodic sound.

“Hardly.”

As expected, you weren’t hiding it as well as you thought. The annoyance—the absolute aggravation that coursed through you. You tried your best to brush it off.

His movement was swift as he sat in the space next to you; pressing his shoulder into your own. The sudden contact made you stop momentarily, but not long enough for him to take notice. At least, you hoped not. You fought every urge to look into those eyes.

“You seem quite tense, darling. Is there anything you need? Anything I can do?” His voice dragged as he ever so slightly leaned into your ear, knowing full well at this point he was flat out taunting you. Your breath hitched slightly when you felt his hand rest on your thigh and gripped just enough that you almost forgot what was wrong, but reality struck when his fingers traced dangerously close to a certain spot, and you could feel the rage boil all over again.

You huffed as you threw the poker down, and Gale seemed to snap out of the fixation with his book at this. He peered over the top edge of the pages, but you were too hot with fury to notice. Maybe I shouldn’t be so nosey, he thought, but I don’t think they notice me anyway. Gale pressed the book desperately into his nose.

You stood and turned to Astarion with a look of defiance etched into your features; pointing a finger so close to his face he almost went cross-eyed.

“You’ve done quite enough for one day.”

He laid a hand on his chest as if taking offense.

“Sweetheart, whatever do you mean? I’ve done absolutely nothing wrong.” He purred, his eyes peering into the very depths of your soul. Seeing him beneath you sent shockwaves through your fingers, and the mention of just that singular word was enough to send you completely over the edge. Sweetheart? Sweetheart?! Who in the Hells does he think he is?!

In that moment, you could feel that consuming feeling take over every connector in your brain, and your stomach churned. You cursed the way your body deceived you before groaning, turning, and stomping off defiantly.

“I need a moment. Alone.” You huffed.

Astarion’s gaze followed your figure all the way to the tent in amusement before you shut the cloth behind you, and after a moment, it was clear you would not be returning. His gaze returned to the fire in front of him. It was only just a bit of fun; he told himself. I could’ve done much, much worse. The poor dear.

“So… do you think she’s gone to occupy herself, Astarion?” Gale’s amused chords rang from behind the pages of his book—himself now sat back comfortably after what he’d just witnessed.

He admitted it was all quite silly, mostly because you’d fought with him a few days previously about your real feelings for the vampire and completely denying them. Gale knew you were just saving face, but it ran much deeper than he’d anticipated. Even if you wouldn’t admit it he knew you liked Astarion. As much as that fact made his brain chemistry practically disintegrate, it was only because Gale had taken interest in you too. You’d made it clear that you just wanted to be friends, and he was respectful of that. Now he was faced with a dilemma; how to get the vampire to treat you the way you deserved. Gale was not convinced thus far that he could trust Astarion, and especially not with their precious leader.

Astarion flashed him a taunting grin.

“Well, if she was, she would have invited me, of course. Tell me, Gale, do you even know where the clitoris is?”

The wizard sat there baffled before collecting his things and beginning to stand. He huffed, much like you had, and scowled in the vampire’s direction.

“I’ll have you know I am well endowed in the pleasure department, thank you very much. Not that it’s any of your business, anyway.” Gale spoke, rolling his eyes. He lingered momentarily as he thought about his next words methodically. He would not risk waking to fangs in his neck, so he let out a tired sigh before parting his lips to speak.

“She’s rather fond of you, Astarion. I just,” his breath caught in his throat, “I just think you should be careful with her. She’s more than just a pretty face. Much more.” The wizard’s hand waved about in the air for emphasis. Astarion examined him carefully in the dim light of the fire and saw the genuine concern that adorned his features, and at this Astarion’s eyes softened slightly.

“If we can agree on anything, Gale, let it be that fact. She’s… definitely something.” His head nodded in earnest. Gale felt his thoughts relax at his words. Though he wasn’t fully confident in Astarion’s motives, at least there could be a start. After all, they shared a damn camp together along with most of their days. He might as well get used to him. With a final passing glance, Gale retreated to his own tent to engage in much needed sleep; leaving Astarion with his own rampant thoughts.

He had to admit that he absolutely adored the way you would get so worked up over his advances. No one had ever tried so hard to reject them— if they even tried at all —and the thought of it made his mind go crazy. He would be lying if he said he hadn’t been thinking of stretching your sweet cunt open; tasting every inch of skin you had to offer, absolutely ravishing you like he’d never had a drop to drink. It kept him up most nights, but it was only because you were playing hard to get. He knew whether or not you wanted to admit it; you needed him, and that thought was enough to solidify you as his prey.

But then there were those innocent glances, or sometimes even the smallest, feather-light touches you’d grant him every so often. Even the sound of your voice he found was a sweet symphony that cradled him in the warmest embrace; a feeling he hadn’t felt in all his 200 years of living-death. To say the feeling alarmed him was an understatement, but he figured it had to be a side-effect of these damn worms. Maybe his brain wasn’t functioning properly. Of course he couldn’t entertain anything real between them—the idea was plain insanity. She only serves one purpose, you fool. Stop playing games. You need her on your side.

As he pondered this, something strange happened. He felt the hairs on his body stand on end, almost as if electricity had coursed through the very make-up of his cold blood. An unfamiliar heat crept over his skin and warmed his cheeks. His ears perked at the sudden noise that erupted from your tent, and it made every cell in his body twitch. It took every ounce of him to stop the movement of his feet from approaching your abode, but the sweetness of that sound could not be ignored. All thoughts had been wiped from his mind as he closed in on the opening while his hand reached out to the cloth. He hesitated for a moment as his ears perked up again becoming aware of a new noise, and he couldn’t help but listen intently.

Tucked inside your tent you felt the heat building in the small space; your ragged breaths muffled by your own hand as your other worked tight circles on your clit. This is ridiculous; you thought. He was practically eye-fucking me. The damned bastard.

The image of his eyes flashed behind yours along with the feeling of his fingers trailing up your thigh; his breath fanning the nape of your neck. It drove you wild. You imagined him positioned between your legs; his tongue lapping at your juices as he fought to keep your legs steady so he could worship your cunt properly. I wonder how his curls would feel between my fingers.

You moaned at the thought, but pressed your hand tighter to your lips to avoid anyone hearing your lewd noises. You could feel your release coming, and with every circle your breaths became quicker and more difficult to conceal. Squeezing your legs tighter to create more friction, you felt the small earthquakes begin to erupt throughout your body, and a white veil shielded the world from your eyes. As you convulsed, you failed to hear the footsteps that approached your tent as your psyche was completely sabotaged with pleasure.

As quickly as you peaked, the electric feeling began to wane as your chest rose and fell in tandem with your animalistic breaths—grounding you back to the dull reality of your tent—while your fingers lingered over the sensitive bundle of nerves that twitched with painful aftershocks. You sucked in a deep breath and held for a few seconds before releasing the weight of your orgasm with it. Something in you felt so guilty and rotten for the act. We’ve never even had a decent conversation and your imagining him waltzing into your tent and absolutely destroying your cervix. Unbelievable.

Your hand slowly moved from your mouth to rest on the apex of your throat as if feeling a lingering hand there; like you were trying to fill an empty space that you hoped eventually would be awarded to someone. Your eyes peered above into the boring and equally uninteresting cloth that made your tent as your brain drifted to the Pale Elf’s captivating stare anew, making you lose your breath all over again. You knew there could be no future there with a happy ending, but would it hurt so bad to just entertain it if even for a moment? What if it could be everything you’d dreamed about, or conversely your worst nightmare? Was it worth the risk? Questions riddled your brain that you were too frightened to answer.

Then your body tensed with a sudden jolt when you’d finally heard it—the dirt just outside your tent crushing under someone’s feet. Before you could even look up from your very obviously lewd position you heard the swish of your tent flap, and your body did something similar to a cat arching it’s back in defense. You thrusted forward to cover what you could of your half-exposed body, and in the anxiety of it all your eyes met with deep carmine irises that were glazed with insatiable hunger. He was already halfway through the opening, but didn’t dare to dip even a shoulder in as his eyes raked over your figure. The scent of your orgasm lingered hot and fresh in the air and it maddened him to no end. Stupid Wizard. Why did he always have to be right? He recalled Gale’s intuition about you “occupying” yourself. Damn bastard.

There was a moment of tense silence as you both stared at one another—both in want and in need—but neither pair of lips could make out words. You clutched your blanket close to your chest to at least have a semblance of modesty, but you were fooling no one, and especially not Astarion.

“I’m sorry, my sweet, but I seem to have caught you at an excellent time.” His lips curled into a smug smirk as he drank in your reddened cheeks and your slightly parted lips. You were still hot from your orgasm, and you couldn’t even bring yourself to retort back with something equally infuriating and snarky. All you could feel staring into his eyes was a deep and ravenous sea of lust awash your entire being. Your lip caught between your teeth as you examined his face wondering what the hell you were supposed to say in a situation like this.

“I said I wanted to be alone. Apparently you’re hearing impaired.” You didn’t sound as sharp as you’d wanted to, but you frankly didn’t care.

“And yet your sweet noises were loud enough to catch my ear. If I didn’t know any better, maybe you wanted to be heard.” His voice dipped below his chords into a very slight growl and it ignited a flame in your stomach that couldn’t be satiated with mere banter. This required action, and a newfound confidence consumed your being as you leaned back in your bedroll.

“Maybe I did, maybe I didn’t. But I hardly see why that gave cause for you to waltz in here preening as if I have anything to offer you.” Your teeth bared in a prematurely victorious smile as you examined his full figure that was now nestled into the confines of your tent. He towered over your sitting figure; the shadow of it reaching to every corner of the room. It seemed to grow as he advanced on you quite suddenly when you felt his foot briefly brush against your own to stand at the foot of your bedroll. He shook his head as he beheld the sight of you; completely suffocating in awe and wonder at your figure beneath him.

“Oh no, my dear. You see, I am the one who comes offering. I cross my heart you won’t have to lift a pretty little finger.” His words drip like honey as his figure begins to shrink, taking you only seconds to realize that he was now on his knees with his hands placed firmly upon your own bent ones. His eyes pleaded you for entrance between your soft and supple thighs as he squeezed your skin to urge you on. Your lips fell slightly parted as you contemplated what was happening, and that it was in fact real. You had only moments to come to terms with whether the decision was morally right or wrong, but at this point fuck morality. In that moment you saw the absolute desperation and need he had to make you sing for him, and you couldn’t deny that it made you blush from within as easily as your cheeks had. You rationalized that you had no choice but to part your legs underneath the weight of his palms—breath hitching in your throat has he crawled in the empty space between them before hovering over the entirety of your figure.

“What a sweet little love you are. Are my words so captivating that you’d part your legs at the mere sound of them?” His hand grabbed your chin with the most gentle touch as he angled your gaze to better see him. He wanted to look at all of you, even to the deepest part of your beautiful eyes. He rubbed a feather-light finger across your cheek as his fingers trailed down the same area on your throat you had imagined earlier. Just moments ago so empty, and now you felt completely beguiled at the touch. He awaited your response while his fingers trailed your abdomen.

“If it were your words, we would have been in this position a long time ago.” You breathily sighed as you felt his fingers playing at the threads of the blanket that covered your exposed lower half. His eyes didn’t waver from your own even as your own parted his to look at his hands that inched closer and closer to where you so desperately wanted him.

“Ah, yes. I do believe it’s my gaze that get’s you so bothered.” He grabbed your chin once more, but this time more firmly, to direct your eyes back onto his own. Your mouth suddenly went dry when you felt his fingers dip lower, just barely grazing the hood of your clit, and you fought to keep in a whimpered moan at the sensitive feeling.

“Don’t keep those eyes off of me, darling. I want to watch every moment of your pleasure.”

You let out a soft moan as his fingers began to work gentle, insatiable circles on your sensitive nub. The intensity of his gaze was the only thing keeping you grounded in the blur of pleasure that began to build so quickly due to how recent your last orgasm was. Astarion felt a carnal lust building in himself, nearly drooling at how slick your folds were given your recent release. He wanted to hear those sweet moans for himself, and this time by his own hand. Your cunt was so needy for him that it took no effort to slip a dexterous finger into your core, and then another because he felt so generous. Your hips bucked slightly to create more friction as you already felt your second orgasm of the evening nearing; cheeks reddening in embarrassment as you began clenching around his fingers. He knew you would come undone momentarily, but he was lost in the way your brows furrowed together. The crinkle of your eyes when he would hit a certain spot within you. Your lips so plush and agape, which allowed your soft moans to travel into his ears and strike the deepest part of his dead heart so effortlessly. You were an absolute vision in his eyes.

He closed the space between you with a soft and gentle kiss if only to fill the gap in time he knew which your orgasm would arise. His tongue barely passing your lips; you couldn’t fight the way your hands lifted up to rake your fingers through his soft curls, tugging at them for stability in the kiss that you deepened. His fingers moved at a delicious pace as he brought you to your climax, and you already felt an emptiness in knowing that this moment was over. Even if you hadn’t ridden it out completely—your lips still connected—you felt hollow. Like there was something missing. You felt the gentle tug of his teeth on your bottom lip when he dragged it out, and your throat couldn’t help but release a deep moan as he awarded you with a few more small rubs to your sensitive spot before parting you too soon. He read the desperation in you like an open book, spying the emptiness behind your iris’. Still staring at your gorgeous face, he brought his soiled fingers to his lips before parting them; his digits disappearing into his mouth and cleaning your cum clean off. There seemed to be a new vitality that erupted in him at the mere taste of it, and he couldn’t help the smile that tugged at the corner of his pretty lips.

“I’m not finished with you yet.”

Your eyes widened when Astarion broke the eye contact so suddenly, but quickly replaced your shock with content as he connected his lips to the skin of your heartbeat. You couldn’t speak words as you were still hazed from your second peak, but allowed him to work at your body like putty in his hands. He never lingered in a spot too long as he kissed his way down your sweaty body, catching a nipple between his teeth teasingly as he did so which made you whimper. He never once broke eye contact as he shackled you down with just a simple look. You were utterly smitten with him and what he was going to do, and his plead to keep your eyes on him seemed like a silly request to you now. You couldn’t imagine doing anything else but stare at him.

Astarion began to salivate as he neared your sex, knowing full well how slick you were from his touch. The smell of your arousal had filled his senses entirely when he’d reached that aching spot. It was almost instinct to dart his tongue out to catch the dripping juices that flowed from your beautiful cunt, and it was exactly as he had imagined. Though he was a Vampire, and accustomed to a very obviously blood based diet, he wouldn’t deny now that he could live off of the sweetness of your cum alone. As much as he desired to burry his cock in you, he knew the look of your face when his tongue connected with you so intimately would be ingrained in his brain for eternity.

You brought yourself to the upright position; your hands bracing your body behind you to better get a view of this moment. He effortlessly hooked both arms under each of your legs and held firmly at your hips to better spread yourself for him. He didn’t hesitate for a moment longer when you’d situated yourself, and promptly connected his hungry mouth to the mess between your legs.

The feeling couldn’t be overstated; nearly bringing you to tears. It was beyond the amount of pleasure that a being could endure in a single evening, and yet with Astarion there you felt like you could do this for hours. The way his tongue traced devious lines in between your folds, and the way it would dip to tease your entrance. He fought at the idea of pushing a finger inside, but when your hand made home in his white curls he knew he had to make you cum by his tongue alone. He decided then to take your sweet clit between his teeth to suckle on it just right, and deliberately released a hum of satisfaction that he knew would drive you mad. The pained whimper he received proved that his efforts were a success.

You refused to tear away from his eyes. They peered up at you through delicate lashes, and they exhibited such strong hunger that it nearly overwhelmed you. Slipping an innocent finger between your lips to bite back something—anything— from escaping them, you felt his tongue moving faster and with more desperation. His fingers gripped at the skin of your hips so furiously that you knew there would be lingering marks, but you didn’t care. If it was your choice, you’d wish for every mark he gave you to be permanent; a constant reminder of this insurmountable pleasure. Gods, you couldn’t imagine anything in the entire universe feeling this amazing.

Your body shook with another arising orgasm and Astarion’s lips parted you briefly, if at all, to speak.

“So beautiful,” his lips connected with you once again, but only in a gentle kiss, “So delicious.”

He brought his lips back to your spot again to resume his pace, and you threw your head back as far as you could without breaking your gaze. Your orgasm fizzed inside of you more intensely than you’d ever felt before, feeling yourself clawing at the confines of your mind for release. It was too much, far too painful and you were suffering, but you absolutely relished it. You nestled your fingers back into his soft locks as you helped to guide his movements against your aching nub, and his perfect movements mixed with your direction was enough to bring you to the edge of your peak. Your chest heaved heavy breaths in anticipation for your release, and Astarion’s eyes only grew hungrier as his mouth turned animalistic; ravaging your cunt with so much force that you actually felt a stray tear dance across your cheek.

When the moment came, Astarion was completely enraptured. The taste of your cum was so much different at the apex of your orgasm that it nearly brought tears to his eyes; that something so sweet could only be sweeter. He loved how your body shook with passion as the feeling flooded your senses, but nothing was as beautiful as the view his eyes had been graced with. When it came to you, there were no doubts; you were definitely different in every aspect. Even when you rode your orgasm out against his lips, he expected you to push him away, but you never did. You only peered down at him with blood-bitten cheeks and a smile from ear to ear.

“If you’re going to make a habit of calling me silly pet names like ‘sweetheart’ and ‘darling’, you’ll be finding yourself in this position quite a lot.” A chuckle fought at the back of your throat when the words parted you, and you were relieved to see Astarion equally as amused. He rested his head on the ridge of your stomach while his hands traced light circles on the flesh of your legs, awarding you a toothy smile.

“Well, now I can’t imagine anything more enchanting than your ‘little death’, so maybe I should make it a habit. Of course, I’d only do that for my own benefit. Maybe a healing potion, or a new dagger. Definitely not for your pleasure or mine.” He raised a brow mischievously, and the tone in his voice let you know that he was only joking, because there was no hiding it on his face. He’d enjoyed the moment just as much as you, if not more. You were willing to bet now that he would stow away with you every evening to steal moments like this. Even he couldn’t deny that it had brought a warmth into him that he hadn’t felt in hundreds of years. He wanted to lock those images into the confines of his mind so that he might never forget them, replaying them only when he found himself engulfed in darkness with no hope of seeing the light.

“Definitely not. I couldn’t imagine anything more horrible.” You couldn’t wipe the smile off of your face, staring down at him in content. For the first time you could see him as he was; just a man. Your heart sang at the idea that maybe this was okay, and you’d both needed it. Maybe there was to be more in store for the two of you, but in this moment you were just happy with his presence.

He hadn’t even noticed he was lingering until you had fully flattened against the bedroll; your arms getting tired from holding your body up. He sat holding you like that for so long, laying against your stomach and gripping at your hips that he almost felt embarrassed. He’d never been one to linger after any sexual acts, but he couldn’t help but feel so safe with you. The comfort in knowing no words needed to be spoken. And as he got lost in his thoughts, you had already began to drift into blissful sleep with him attached to your abdomen, and he saw no reason why he had to leave.

So he stayed there all night, observing your peaceful face.

#18+ account #astarion #astarion bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate astarion #bg3 #reading #smut #bg3 astarion #fanfic #fem reader #18+ mdni #mdni #spawn astarion #astarion brainrot #astarion x reader #reader imagine #18+ content

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sunderwight · 21 days

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Thinking about a bingqiu Dreamling AU where Shen Yuan and Shang Qinghua are both bored deities, just sort of taking a brief sojourn through the mortal world to shoot the shit and see some interesting monster or other that Shen Yuan has heard about, when they come across a tea house and decide to take a break and do some people-watching instead.

Shen Yuan is well into something of a shut-in phase, which Shang Qinghua doesn't like, mostly because when Shen Yuan is in those phases he doesn't do particularly well either. Shen Yuan's a social butterfly, for however little he cares to actually acknowledge it about himself, and his critique of Shang Qinghua's literary masterpieces gets so much harsher when he's not getting enough enrichment.

So when they overhear one of the kitchen boys solemnly insisting that he is going to do everything in his power to never die, and Shen Yuan laments that the boy would probably regret such a wish if it came true, Shang Qinghua decides to bestow a rare bit of godly power onto this mortal and grant his wish.

He doesn't make him a god, of course, that wouldn't even be in his ability. At least, not without using up more time and effort than he's prepared to expend on this one random kid. But immortality on its own is not that difficult. The boy will still finish growing up, and will still be able to be harmed, to know hunger and pain and illness. It just won't ever kill him.

Shen Yuan sighs that it's a cruel thing to do to a mortal, especially one with such low odds of ever cultivating other skills to mitigate the potential torment of it all. But Shang Qinghua just shrugs and they place bets, that this boy will ask for the immortality to be revoked in a hundred years, or two hundred, or so on, or else he won't. Shen Qingqiu approaches the kitchen boy and flusters and bewilders him by telling him to meet him back here again in a hundred years time.

A hundred years later, the tea house is larger. The boy has grown to be a striking young man, who looks at Shen Yuan with wariness and something else, something almost like awe, as he asks what manner of creature he's made this bargain with. Shen Yuan assures him that he has no nefarious intentions, and instead asks Luo Binghe how the past century of his life has gone.

Horribly, at least at first. Binghe's mother had already died by the time they met, but afterwards he managed to earn enough money to travel to a nearby sect. Working in the tea house's kitchen was just a minor stopover along the way. Shen Yuan was wrong, it seems, about his odds of becoming a cultivator -- Luo Binghe earned entry as a disciple.

Yet, he had no success. The master who took him on was unaccountably cruel and mercurial, and Luo Binghe's attempts to cultivate failed. Looking back he sees now that there were many times when he should have died but didn't, but when it was all happening he just thought himself lucky. At least until an enemy sect attacked a cultivation conference, and he suffered mortal wounds that absolutely should have killed him (or anyone) but still didn't die. (No demon race or abyss in this AU, but there are still demonic and fantastical creatures.)

His cruel master, upon witnessing this, accused him of heretical practices and tried to kill him as well by flinging him off the edge of a gorge. The fall was terrible. Binghe lay at the bottom in a horrifying state, injured beyond reason and yet, still, he didn't die. Eventually his body recovered enough for him to drag himself out, and once he did the only thing on his mind was getting revenge. For the next several decades he managed to ingratiate himself to all manner of potential allies, forging alliances, accumulating blackmail, and convincing people that he had to be some powerful cultivator through his supernatural resilience, lack of visible aging, and a lot of bluffing. He got revenge on his old teacher, drove his first sect into ruin, and rose to prominence as a feared and respected leader of the cultivation world.

Shen Yuan listens with clear interest, asking plenty of questions and seemingly quite taken up with the story. At the conclusion, Luo Binghe admits that his actual cultivation is still mostly a matter of smoke and mirrors, and wonders if -- now that the hundred years have passed -- Shen Yuan means to strip his immortality from him.

Shen Yuan asks if Luo Binghe wants that. When Luo Binghe says no, he accepts the answer, and tells him to meet him back here again in another hundred years. Luo Binghe calls after him, but before he can ask anything more, Shen Yuan has disappeared again.

A hundred years later, Binghe arrives back at the tea house with an entourage befitting of an emperor. The tea house has also expanded. Luo Binghe orders a lavish feast from them, which everyone hastens to provide. He's spent the past several decades consolidating his power, forging alliances with key political players via several marriages, producing heirs, and crushing his enemies. As he brags about the state of his massive harem to Shen Yuan, the deity's eyes begin to glaze over. He doesn't seem impressed. He also doesn't seem to care much for the food, and eventually his attention is stolen away by a conversation at another table. The diners are discussing the exploits of a promising new poet and novelist. Try as he might, Luo Binghe fails to regain Shen Yuan's attention before the evening is done. Shen Yuan doesn't think it's a big deal -- after all, if Binghe is still riding on top of the world, he's probably not going to want his immortality gift revoked just yet!

Another hundred years go by. The tea house has returned to a more modest situation, the next time Shen Yuan sets foot in it. He waits an unusually long while for his guest to arrive, and when he does, he's almost stopped at the door by the tea house's servers. It's only when Shen Yuan bids them let him through that Luo Binghe is able to come to the table, almost collapsing against it and desperately falling onto the arrangement of snacks with obvious hunger.

Shen Yuan wonders if this, now, will be when the boy (no longer a boy) asks for the immortality to be revoked. Surprisingly, he finds himself resistant to the idea, even though it's also clear that the game has run too long. Maybe hundred year check-ins were too short? He doesn't like the implications of what's gone on, even if he's not really surprised about it either.

Between desperate mouthfuls of food, Luo Binghe explains that without mastering inedia, going hungry but never dying is a deeply unpleasant experience. Shen Yuan orders more food. Once Binghe has finally eaten his fill, he begins, haltingly, to explain his situation. His clothes are ragged, he is painfully thin, and his gaze is haunted.

Apparently, several of his wives conspired to assassinate him, despite his reputation as unkillable. Realizing that most poisons and such didn't kill him, but that he could still be incapacitated, they hatched a scheme to dose his food with a powerful sleeping agent, and then walled him up in a famous ancestral tomb. They went to great length to ensure that it was impossible to escape from. It took Binghe decades to do it anyway, digging away at the floors, and when he got out he found that his power base had collapsed. In-fighting and the incursion of his enemies had led to the deaths of all of his children, and what wives had survived had either fled or remarried. Not that he particularly wanted them back at that point, since the ones actually most loyal to him had also been killed early on after his own "death". His face marked him, to the eyes of his enemy, as a surviving descendant of himself. He was hunted down, chased across the continent and back again, until he managed to fall into enough obscurity that his pursuers abandoned the chase. Except that he has nothing, and any time he tries to regain something, he runs the risk of being hounded again. Those who might see some potential in him still remember the collapse of his recent "dynasty" and slam doors in his face, or else try and turn him over to those now in power in pursuit of a reward. Those who don't know that much see only a dirty beggar, and usually run him off on that basis instead.

Shen Yuan, almost hesitant, asks if Luo Binghe would like to have his immortality revoked.

Luo Binghe declines. How will he be able to take revenge on those who wronged him if he is dead? He has a hit list a mile long by now.

Which is definitely not the most noble of reasons to persist, but Shen Yuan finds himself reluctant to ask twice. Instead he orders more food, and then even reserves one of the traveler's rooms above the tea house for several days. By then the sky is turning grey, and Luo Binghe is losing his apparent battle with exhaustion. Shen Yuan presses the key into his hand, thinking it's probably not enough, but there are limits to how much gods are supposed to interfere and Shang Qinghua already stretched them to the breaking point with this entire scenario.

He leaves, not seeing the hand that reaches after him just before he is out of the door and gone.

Another hundred years pass. This time, Shen Yuan arrives to find Luo Binghe already waiting for him. He isn't surprised to see that Binghe's situation has visibly improved -- maybe he was keeping closer tabs on him, just a little bit, for this past while. If only to be sure he wouldn't have to warn the tea house workers to expect an unorthodox visitor again! But no, Binghe has been doing well enough for himself. No more harems or thrones, though. He dresses more like a well-off merchant now, deliberately posing as his own mortal descendant rather than as a great immortal cultivator. The food at the table looks far more delicious than usual too (Binghe commandeered the tea house's kitchen himself this time). As they chat, Shen Yuan is regaled with the exploits of Luo Binghe's travels and adventures, how even though he initially set out to claim revenge on those who overthrew him, by the time he was in a position to actually do so they had already died of the usual causes (time, illness, their own schemes backfiring, etc). Subsequently, only their children and grandchildren were left with the scraps of power they had obtained, and when one of those children employed Luo Binghe as a bodyguard, his initial plan to assassinate them eventually fell by the wayside. After all, the wrongdoings weren't actually theirs. From that point, Binghe was able to restore himself to a more comfortable life, joining his new employer on their travels until he had set aside enough earnings to take his leave before his youthful good-looks earned him suspicion. He then began investing in travel and trade, specifically cargo ships, because never spending too long in the same place or around the same people helped disguise his immortality. He had found that, at least for now, this served him better than playing the part of a cultivator. It also gave him time to try and actually repair his ruined cultivation base somewhat, and fighting pirates proved very diverting.

Binghe is midway through recounting his adventures with a gigantic sea monster, while Shen Yuan hangs on every word, when they're interrupted by the arrival of a brash young mistress, clearly wealthy and trained in cultivation. The young lady declares that there is a rumor that a fallen god and a demon meet in this tea house once a century, that they wield strange powers, etc etc, and she intends to interrogate them both with the assistance of her hired muscle and her own spiritual weapon, and discover the truth of the matter. Then she whips out, well, a whip!

Before Shen Yuan can deal with the matter, Luo Binghe is already on his feet, disarming the goons and breaking a few arms in the process. Shen Yuan is so distracted that he almost misses the whip aimed right for him, but before Binghe can catch the barbed weapon with his bare hand (wtf, Binghe, no) Shen Yuan deflects it with a wave of his fan, and then efficiently knocks the troublesome young lady unconscious. The hired muscle flees, Shen Yuan arranges for their assailant to be placed in a room upstairs until she regains consciousness, and he and Binghe resume their meal and conversation in relative peace.

Even though it's clear that Luo Binghe has not yet reached the end of his tolerance for life, Shen Yuan nevertheless finds himself strangely reluctant to part ways at the end of the night. Still, he does, because that's what is expected of him, gently denying Luo Binghe's suggestions that they find some other establishment to continue their conversation at. He also has to investigate these "rumors" that the young lady mentioned. It's probably nothing (Shang Qinghua has a loose tongue when he's drunk, and a lot of imaginative storytellers have frequented this tea house over the years) but he doesn't like being caught unawares like that. Heavenly politics are... complicated, it's best not to court unwanted attention in any capacity.

Another hundred years go by. This time, when they meet at the tea house, Luo Binghe asks Shen Yuan why he keeps it up. Why did he pick Binghe? What is he really after? When Shen Yuan fails to give any kind of clear answer, Luo Binghe shoots his shot and makes a (very obvious) move on him.

Shen Yuan, flustered, gets up and flees. Ignoring Luo Binghe's calls after him. It just doesn't make any sense! Why would Binghe do that?! He's a man who once had a harem of wives in the triple digits! Clearly he's not gay, so what was that all about? Was he just messing with him?! How dare he! Etc, etc.

Another century passes. Luo Binghe waits at the tea house, which has fallen onto hard times again. With the construction of some new roadways, travelers no longer pass through as often. Binghe listens, worried, to the proprietor's laments that this old place will probably not be around in another hundred years. He listens because he has no one else to speak to, because Shen Yuan has not shown up. Not that morning, not during the day, not come evening, and not now that it is closing time. Binghe nevertheless charms and bribes the proprietor to let him stay even after the place has shuttered.

It seems damning, of course. He pressed too hard and now his mysterious benefactor wants nothing more to do with him. Except, no, he refuses to accept that. He's still immortal. And he has gleaned enough of Shen Yuan's character by now that he thinks that even if he was rejected, he would be let down more clearly and gently than this. The more he thinks about it, the less willing Luo Binghe is to believe that he has been deliberately stood up (also, since the tenor of his confession was different from Hob Gadling's, he never delivered an ultimatum about what it might imply when they met up again).

Over the centuries, Luo Binghe has built up a few contacts with similarly strange and supernatural stories. Cultivators, sure, but also others, fortune tellers and people of strange ancestry, questionable abilities, those who have interacted with powerful beings of mysterious provenance. He makes his way to a certain gambling den, frequented often by such people, and while he flashes around enough money to draw curiosity, he collects information. Shen Yuan wasn't the only person who started paying more attention to the kinds of rumors surrounding the two of them after their confrontation with the young cultivator a couple centuries ago. And in fact, Luo Binghe has been spending many, many years trying to find out more about his mystery man. Though, too many potential deities and immortals fit his description for him to have ever conclusively figured much out.

This is how Binghe gets wind of a rumor that an eccentric occultist has somehow captured a god in his basement...

#svsss #bingqiu #scum villain's self saving system #bingyuan #scum villain #long post #whoever the roderick burgess proxy is here he's got a big storm coming #going the classic dreamling fanfic route and having shen yuan get rescued instead of having to escape by himself #shang qinghua has definitely made other people immortal on various whims and impulses #he bestows his gift recklessly on a betrayed young prince at one point and the divine emperor is just like 'enough!'#'if you're doing to do this I'm going to make you babysit the results! you descend and work for that prince now!' so he's got his hands ful #dreamling might be the situation but shen yuan isn't much of a dream of the endless type #and luo binghe is nothing like hob gadling lol #'I want to live because I love life!' nope it's mostly about spite #the hardest part of this AU is imagining a universe where shen yuan would ignore luo binghe for long enough to let actual centuries pass

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maeumi-jng · 4 months

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hiii!! i love ur writing it’s absolutely adorable 🥹🫶 i was wondering if you could write something about riki & reader and maybe the reader is just a little older than him like a few months to a year? and they are very adamant on giving him his space especially since he has dealt with… so much from older fans. but riki rlly likes the reader and he’s frustrated because he doesn’t want her to think of him like a kid maybe 🤔 but reader likes him back she is just scared bc she feels like what if she makes him uncomfortable? but then it has a happy ending because they talk it out & jungwon helps them 😭🫶 totally understand if u don’t want to take this request! even if u don’t, it’s alright i love ur writing sm

kiss her you fool

pairing: idol!riki nishimura x idol!fem!reader, childhood bsf!yang jungwon x reader

synopsis: riki likes you. you like him. if the maths is right, you should be together. but riki left one variable unaccounted for. or in which riki must get to the bottom of why you are withholding your feelings for him if it's the last thing he does

warnings: reader is a year older, ANGST, mention of c-19, DISGUSTING OLD CREEPY FANS, mentions of sexual harassment, insecurity, problems of young debuting and discrimination, and crying, jealousy, swearing, appearance of riize's anton, riki being an absolute menace but a communication king 😤, romantic confessions, cringe but fluffy, proof-read before dinner soooo ☺️

word count: 2k+ library: enhypen bookshelf

author’s note: it's my first request 😭 i got youuuuuuu. i didn't mean for this to get so um well sappy and sad, got a bit carried away with the 'older fans' thing, but thank you so much for requesting! i hope this is up to par ♡︎ // song rec is titular but not really incorporated

You had made a mistake.

A very big mistake.

Liking Riki Nishimura.

How exactly that happened... well almost four years ago now, in 2020.

The practical shut down of all things physical in the industry. No concerts, no fan meetings, no live performances, restricted filming... the entire world had gone quiet.

Yet, as humans had done since the dawn of time, there was adaptation. Online concerts that were pre-recorded and emphasised stage performances, masked filming with very few staff, well.. masked everything...

And in the midst of all of this, was I-LAND. The survival show that would form a new boy group. The same show that your childhood best friend, Yang Jungwon, was participating in. As his friend, former label mate, and a representative of BigHit, you were very enthusiastic, promoting the show when you could on your lives and consistently voting for him, producing the theme song, even coming on the last episode with your seniors.

Jungwon did it. He got first place. With almost 1.5 million votes. To withhold all your tears that day was a heavy task. You didn't want anyone to think that the votes had been manipulated due to your influence so you had kept a bit quiet about your relation to Jungwon. But you were just so proud.

People eventually found out soon though. Months before ENHYPEN was to debut with the claims that it just made sense that you two were childhood friends.

Along with him came six other people that you would soon make lifelong friends with, Heeseung, Jay, Jake, Sunghoon, Sunoo, and Niki. You debuted quite early and despite being the youngest leader ever to debut and the maknae, friends were hard to come by (surprise surprise). So you welcomed these with open arms. Any friend of Jungwon was going to be a friend of yours.

You cherished all the members in their own ways but you couldn't lie and say Riki wasn't special to you. He reminded you of yourself. So young yet so passionate. Furthermore, he was Japanese. Living in a foreign country by yourself at such at such as young age... it had to be tough.

So in a way, you took him in. By that you meant your mother had basically accepted him as her son and you took care of him as if you were his older sister. You helped him with his Korean, your mother invested into learning Japanese cuisine so he didn't feel too homesick, always sending you with tiffins of food to the company or to the dorm, you stayed by him during the tough times... you made sure that he never felt alone, even for a second. You promised him.

The thing about debuting so young was that it often attracted the wrong type of people. You had gone through it and were still going through it despite turning twenty soon. Older fans... they seemed to love you. Especially, older men. From shouting your name loudly and asking for cute poses at fan signs to genuinely asking to marry you and specifically positioning their cameras at a certain angle to capture under your skirt... It was beyond you.

And Riki was going through the same thing, primarily with older women. Asking to marry him, seeing him shirtless, inappropriate fan fiction... the list of crazy was endless.

But your group and especially ENHYPEN wasn't having any of it. You all tried to the best of your ability to protect Riki but it just never seemed to stop. There were just so many weird people out there. It was infuriating.

You stuck to your promise. You made sure Riki felt safe and you could tell it was working. He was always honest with you, at his most vulnerable. He could share anything with you and he'd feel comfortable. You were the one person closest to him, there was no doubt about it.

But then you had to fuck it up. You got feelings.

You didn't realise it at first. But by the end of last year, you were sure. The long hugs, the stares that lasted a second more than they should've, Riki's abrupt clinginess... all of the mundane things were suddenly making you flustered and open the opportunity to having arrhythmia with all your fluctuating heartbeats.

You weren't sure what to do. It terrified you. How were you any different from the older fans? Well, of course there was a difference. But that year difference between the both of you... it was imposing.

So you did the only thing that made any sense to you. You gave him space.

You thought the space you were giving wasn't too obvious. You just wanted Riki to feel lighter and free.

But he noticed.

Immediately.

Riki noticed your wide smiles were now brief, the fewer texts you shared, the pathetic excuses you made to not hang out as much, the way you never sat with him to eat your mom's food... that the space you gave him was also physical given that you no longer sat right next to him but opted to sit diagonal to him (that way you weren't invading him too much).

Riki wasn't the type to beat around the bush. He directly confronted you. A trait that came naturally to him but was only furthered by the ever so direct Jungwon.

When you told him that you just wanted to give him a bit of space, given that he was older now and the whole plight of dealing with his 'fans'... Riki was in turmoil.

On one hand, an ever small part of him was touched that you cared so much. Not that was a surprise. You had the biggest heart he had ever seen.

But for the most part, he was frustrated. See, the thing was... he liked you too. A lot. Maybe too much for a normal human. It wasn't that you took care of him like a sister (if anything that combination would've made him throw up), but it was just you.

You entirely made him like you. Before he debuted, Riki was a big fan of you. He admired your work and passion, especially for as someone as young as you. Not to mention, he's pretty sure that you're the prettiest person in the entire universe. Never did he think he'd actually meet you. But then you visited I-LAND, twice. Once for the theme song and second for the last episode. And Riki was in awe of you. He couldn't believe it!

But that was nothing in comparison to finding out that he was debuting with ENHYPEN, a group that so happened to have Jungwon, your childhood best friend, and would often meet you to have their songs produced and composed.

And then you took him in.

He remembered it like it was yesterday. Heck, he could never forget it even if he tried.

You found Riki head down, crying alone in the dance practice room and you were immediately by his side. He was having an internal crisis.

It had been a few months since he had debuted and everything was going so well. ENHYPEN was popular. But his Korean was barely up to par, he couldn't keep up with everything that was going on, it was fuzzy in his head, people were commenting on his ethnicity and his looks in ways that discriminated him, he missed authentic Japanese food, he missed his annoying sisters, he missed his dad, his mom... he missed home. God, in that moment, he just wanted to go home.

You sat next to him, listening to all his worries quietly. By the time he was finished, he looked up at you with puffy red eyes that made your heart ache and apologised for burdening you with his problems.

He actually apologised.

For a moment, you were speechless.

So being an experienced person (well a year by age and a few more by career), you did what anyone else would do. Well, you hoped.

You wiped the remaining tears off of his face with your thumb and held his hands with yours. You looked him directly in the eye and told him, "You having nothing to be sorry about, Riki-ah. This... this is all normal to feel. To some extent, I know how you feel. I promise you that you'll get through this. I'll be by your side the entire time, hmm? I'm won't leave you alone. I promise."

With that, you brought him into a hug that he reciprocated. And this was the very moment Riki began to have feelings for you. After all of that and with everything you had done for him, how could he not like you?

Riki's frustration was beginning to peak. Ever since you told him you were giving him space, he had decided to the complete opposite. He was going to be up in your business 24 fucking 7 (if he could).

If you were going to sit away him, Riki would make his hyungs move so he could sit right next to you.

You were too far from him? He'd drag your chair close to him.

Your poor text response rate? Unannounced, Riki would walk into the room, rest his head on your lap, and scroll through TikTok, showing you all the videos he found funny.

But he needed to up his game. They say that flirting is a mastery of sort. It takes time, skill, finesse, if you will. Riki, however, is a fast learner.

"Cute hoodie, noona. But you'd look better in mine."

Backstage, you found him waiting outside your dressing room, on his phone. You sighed, shaking your head. "You're a living nightmare, Riki. You know that?"

Riki looked up from his phone, a smirk tugging away at his lips. His eyes grinned at you with their hanging lids. "So you do dream about me? That's nice to know."

When you gave him your most miffed expression, a soft laugh fell from his lips. "You look so cute when you're mad, noona."

The other time you were at HYBE cafeteria. You had finally given into your stomach's needs after slugging away for hours at a song. You spotted a nice yellow iced cupcake... it was calling your name. Just as you went to pick it up, Riki's hand intervened. His fingers brushed against yours, making you immediately retract your fingers. "R-Riki... yah, I was going to get that."

"I know," Riki said, amused by your flustered expression. "I'm going to get it for you."

Then came RIIZE's Anton. An idol who happened to be the same age, also produced music, also spoke English, had the most softest voice known to mankind, devilishly handsome, tall without stupid vitamins... and happened to be shipped heavily with you by everyone and their mother.

Also known as: Riki's worst enemy.

You were both coming out of the studio when Riki had caught the both of you on the way. From how he saw things, he didn't like it one bit. He didn't like the eye-smile Anton had when he looked at you nor did he like the smile you had at the poor joke he had cracked.

Hands shoved in his pockets, Riki stopped in front of you, interrupting your conversation. "Oh, hey, noona."

"Hmm? Oh, hey, Riki. Anton, this is–"

Completely ignoring the Boston-born but moved to New Jersey whatever-the-fuck guy, Riki just smiled at you. "Noona, you look so pretty today. What's the occasion? Me?"

You went home and screamed in your pillow that day (and apologised profusely to Anton (he said it was okay because anyone with a single brain cell could tell you and Riki were close)).

You had had enough.

The next day you had stomped into the dance practice room with Riki and Jungwon following after you because you had met them just as you were entering. Closing the door, you turned to your childhood friend who was placing his bag down.

With one hand pointing to Riki, "Tell him to stop it."

Jungwon raised a brow, looking at you incredulously. "Stop... what exactly?"

"I– stop... stop this," You stressed when Riki shuffled closer to you.

Jungwon looked at you helplessly. He knew how you felt. But he also know how Riki felt. In fact, he was the one who suggested him to be more obvious with his feelings... resulting in this. Clearly, Riki had misunderstood being obvious with being a bit more invasive. Probably, Jungwon's fault... What you two needed to do was communication.

Just as Jungwon opened his mouth again, he watched you push Riki so he stood a metre away from you. "Stay over there."

So much for communication.

Riki pursed his lips, pretending to ponder your suggestion. He took a step closer to you. "But I want to be next to you."

Your eye twitched in frustration. "Riki!" You cried out, balling your fists around the invisible air with annoyance. "Can't you just stop? I told you... you need space. With everything that's being going on for three years... I'm worried about you."

All the humour that was sported by Riki had disappeared in the matter of seconds. He chewed down on his lip, eyes darting around the room, registering what you had just said. He sucked in a sharp breath. "I'm not a kid, noona. Not anymore. I'm older. I have thoughts. and... I have feelings too."

You blinked, letting out an exasperated sigh. "I know but... I just... I just wanted you to gave some space. Some time to think for yourself as a person. It's important for you."

Riki's tongue poked the inside of his cheek. His eyes fell to you, meeting your tired gaze directly. "You said you'd never leave me alone."

Your eyes suddenly softened at his words while your heart ached. "Riki-ah, I'm not–"

"You promised, noona," Riki whispered, a flash of hurt crossing him. He took a step closer while you took another back. "You're afraid of something."

You furrowed your brows. "W-What? I'm not afraid–" You started to defend yourself but Riki cut you off again, not heeding to the warnings Jungwon was calling out.

"No, you are. What are you so afraid of, noona? Tell me... we can fix together. This time I'll help you," Riki persuaded, still inching towards you.

"Riki," You breathed out. God, you were a mess. All you emotions were everywhere. You didn't know what to think... what to say. "Why are you making this so difficult?"

Riki's hands stretched out, encasing yours with his. "I'm not making anything difficult. I think you're just in denial. In denial that I really like you. In denial that you like me just as much."

Your heart skipped a beat at the sudden confrontation. The guard you had built for the past few weeks had come flying down after taking every hit from Riki. "I... I don't wont you to feel uncomfortable," You confessed, "I don't won't you to feel pressured because I'm older than you... because of everything we've done together."

"Noona, I–" Riki's shoulders fell at your admission. God, the fact you were even thinking of that was entirely disheartening. "I don't feel pressured at all. You could never make me feel uncomfortable. I– you're the only person in the universe who actually makes me feel comfortable. No offence, hyung."

Jungwon raised his hands, gesturing his acceptance and dismissal at the same time.

Riki kept his eyes on you, hands tightening around yours. "I'm grateful for everything you've done for me but that's not the only reason I like you. I wish you could see yourself the way I see you. You might not know it but you welcome everyone with open arms, the most beautiful woman I know, but don't tell my mom that, you're so smart, hardworking, caring... you make me want to be a better person. You make me happy, noona."

You blinked rapidly. Were you dreaming right now? Was this a prank of some sort? You removed your hands from Riki's, using the tips of your fingers to pinch your skin of your wrist. A small yelp slipped past your mouth.

Riki jumped slightly, startled. His hands immediately returned to yours, gently rubbing the affected area. "Noona," He chuckled, "This is real. All of it's real. My feelings for you are real."

"Just making sure," You laughed softly before sighing. A wave of heat washed over you and your mouth felt dry. What were you to say now? How do you respond to something so silly yet so valid?

"You can just say you like me, noona," Riki said, eyes beaming down at you in amusement.

Of course you had said that out loud.

You sucked in a sharp breath, slowly exhaling. "I... I like you, Riki," You mumbled.

Riki narrowed his eyes. "I can't hear you," He teased, grinning from ear to ear.

"Nope, nope." You retracted your hands. "I take it back. I'm taking it back... right now."

Riki laughed, reaching out for your hand, only to pull you into a hug. He lifted you gently, spinning you around with pure happiness rushing into his brain.

"Riki," You cried out, "I'm going to feel sick," You said, even though a full blown smile was on your face.

"It's okay," He retorted back, slowly coming to a stop and putting you back on the floor. "If you do..." His hand darted out to push back your hair behind your ear. "I'll take care of you. I promise."

After a brief minute, Riki turned to the empty area where Jungwon once stood. "Where did hyung go?"

"I think he left after you said I was beautiful," You cooed.

A flush of red tinted Riki's ears and cheeks. He folded his arms, getting defensive. "I... Well... it's true!"

#maeumi-jng #maeumi jng’s library — enhypen bookshelf ♡︎#enhypen imagines #enhypen x reader #niki x reader #riki nishimura x reader #nishimura riki #enhypen riki #riki x reader #riki fluff

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