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imaginedanvrs · 2 months

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atonement

masterlist

camp counselor!wanda x reader

word count: 6k

warnings: homophobia and homophobic slurs, conversion therapy, manipulation, gaslighting, references to drug use, unhealthy power dynamics (so rape), noncon to dubcon, cunnilingus, degrading, fingering, nipple play, size kink, general mean Wanda

a/n: me? posting blasphemous content on Easter Sunday? I would never

It looked harmless enough. You weren’t sure what you had been anticipating, mostly because you had been trying to keep your mind off of the unavoidable destination, but it certainly wasn’t the depressing place you had expected. No, they were smart enough to keep that reality away from the parents that dropped their ‘troubled’ children off. If anything, it looked like the kind of summer camp that a lot of your friends would be enjoying about that time.

There wasn’t a church for one thing. In its place was what appeared to be a ranch style house that had kept its traditional family features such as the pair of rocking chairs on the porch and the maintained flowerbed around the borders. On either side of the building, closing in the driveway, were several other intimate buildings that created the impression of a community style living. They were all decorated with various posters about god’s love and acceptance that you guessed you were going to be hearing a lot about during your stay.

Your mother got out of the car first as a man who looked like he was still being dressed by his own mum jogged over from the main house to greet you both. You clenched your grip on your bag strap before deciding to face the music and follow her lead, still examining the area sceptically as your mother and the man introduced themselves. Your mother failed to deliver the same excitement the blonde did, but she attempted to force it nonetheless while your hosts laughed easily at something she had said.

You weren’t listening to either of them as you retrieved your other bag from the boot of the car, not expecting the man to walk around the other side to greet you. “Y/n!” He said like you were an old friend. “I’m Reverend Vision but you can call me Rev Vis.” You most certainly weren’t going to be doing that. “We’re so happy to have you here, let me give you the grand tour of our home,” he beckoned. You trailed behind them.

“Do you live on site?” Your mother asked.

“Oh yes, me and the Mrs. We love our work,” he drowned on and began guiding you through the various rooms of the two buildings either side of his house. The more you learnt about the place, the more you began to dread your stay. There were ‘entertainment’ rooms that were filled with musical instruments and religious books and music. A canteen area fueled by the kitchen in which all of the students were to prepare every meal. A prayer room that was deserted at that time. Finally, the dorms.

Vision wasted no time in searching through your bags for anything that could “interfere with your journey” and came up empty handed, much to his well hidden disappointment. Your mother didn’t seem to notice it, too focused on the contents that came out of your bag, but you saw the flicker of his brow when he declared you were all good and began explaining the long lists of rules that you had no intention of memorising.

“And we do not allow any kind of sexual acts, with yourself or others,” he said lightly. Your mother shifted uncomfortably and you nodded. You had no intention of being caught by him with your hands down your pants when he did his checks during the night. You didn’t anticipate being there long because you were fully prepared to fake your conversion to heterosexuality. How hard could it be? Besides, you dreaded to think how much your parents were paying the capm under the illusion that they could somehow change you. You had to find it humorous, otherwise it would really fucking hurt.

It still did when you watched your family car disappear past the camp gates and into the dense tree line. You sighed, resting your head gently against the cool glass of your window and took in the camp in its entirety. It was a waste of beautiful land, you concluded as you examined where the large field met the changing trees. There were a couple guys in the camp uniform playing football on the grass while a cluster of girls sat to the side cheering them on. Apparently you had caught the end of the game, because Vision appeared on the edge of the grass and called them back inside, most likely to prepare for dinner.

“Y/n,” a voice behind you called. You spun around at the unexpected caller just as she opened her arms and enveloped you in a tight hug that took you wholly by surprise.

“Hi?” You greeted as a question, making the older woman chuckle as she held you before pulling away and keeping her soft hands on your arms as she took you in and allowed you to do the same. Holy fuck she was beautiful. Her striking emerald eyes bore straight through your own and somehow had the ability to make you feel entirely exposed, as though it would be futile to ever conceal anything from her, including your undeniable attraction to her. In contrast, her smile was soft and polite as she gazed at you in a friendly fondness you would with someone you haven't seen in a long time. There was something noticeably comforting in it and the way she carried an entirely put together personar that you wanted a peek beneath. Metaphorically of course… but also literally.

“I’m Wanda, Vision’s wife.” Rev Vis was punching way above his weight. This woman’s voice was even hot. Maybe pretending to be straight would be harder than you thought.

“Nice to meet you,” you smiled and glanced away awkwardly, finding her impossible to maintain eye contact with. She didn’t seem to care as she hooked her finger under your chin and turned your head to keep your attention on her.

“I have every faith you’re going to do so well here, sweetheart,” she told you fondly then dropped her hand and took a respectful step back. Right, gotta leave room for jesus. “Your roommate will be back soon then you too should head down for supper,” she instructed as she headed for the door.

“Okay,” you nodded and pretended to unpack your bags.

“See you later, honey,” she said before disappearing. You exhaled a breath you didn’t realise you had been holding and collapsed onto your bed.

Your first day dragged by painstakingly slowly. Between meals, you attended bible study taught by Vision who gave you his extra attention as it was your first time there. He asked you to compare your own relationship with god to that which he was teaching, expecting an answer in front of all the other students who had been through the same ordeal and spotted your lies as well as Vision did. Apparently everyone did the same when they started at the camp.

You had kitchen duty in the morning and garden duty in the afternoon (which was probably the least crap one) before you had to sit down for what felt like hours to listen to Vision sing about god on a guitar he didn’t know how to tune properly. During every interaction you had with him, all you could think about was how he had ended up with a woman like Wanda. Had they been high school sweethearts? Had their parents pushed them together? Did he have some kind of twisted blackmail over her? They were the only three explanations that made any sense to you but you weren’t about to ask any of the other students for their input.

As it turned out, your daily routine was also going to include a one on one session with the older woman which should have been something to act as a silver lining in your stay, but it was the most challenging aspect of all.

“When did your desire for women begin?” She asked after some small talk.

“I’m not sure,” you lied in an effort to buy yourself some time to think of a good response. She smiled at you softly.

“You can lie to me, but you can’t lie to god,” she informed lightly.

“A couple years ago,” you replied honestly. This seemed to please her.

“And how did it manifest?” She sounded genuinely curious to know, lulling you into being unexpectedly open with her. It wasn’t as though you had anyone else to talk about that stuff with.

“There was a girl in my class that I thought was pretty,” you told her as you recalled your first real crush. “I felt more when she smiled at me than I did when I kissed a boy.” Wanda smiled as though she could see the purity of your memory as well as you could. Except to her, it wasn’t so innocent.

“The devil likes to work his way into places we could never expect,” she told you and your smile dropped. “Especially when we’re naive,” she added. It sounded as though she didn’t hold anything against you and she wholly believed you had been seduced by the devil himself and that it was impossible for there to be any other explanation.

“I was seventeen,” you reasoned. “I wasn’t naive.” Wanda liked the challenge you gave her. That whisper of a promised defiance gave her a thrill she knew to keep a cap unless she was required to use it. She would do anything for her beloved students to guide them back on the right path, especially one that wore the face of morality so well.

“And what do you mean by that?” Wanda enquired.

“I knew- I know what desire and attraction feel like,” you told her without looking her in those expectant eyes that unknowingly glimmered at your revelation.

“Lust,” Wanda said simply. “One of the hardest sins to resist when it affects one so physically.”

“Surely it can’t be bad if it’s natural,” you pointed out. That was not the response the brunette wanted to hear.

“It is not natural,” Wanda said so quickly that she had to take a moment to recollect herself as you looked at her with shock as you took in that momentary crack in her exterior. It was interesting to watch and you wondered why it had hit a nerve. Surely you weren’t the only one to come into her office and state the fact.

“Y/n,” she called slowly. “If lust comes to you while you are here, you must come and tell me,” she told you seriously. Yeah, you definitely wouldn’t be doing that. You agreed obediently anyway.

“Good,” she smiled again. “Now, is there anyone you currently feel ungodly towards?”

“The same girl,” you admitted sheepishly. Yes, you had had a variety of other minor crushes in the past couple years, but she always managed to fill you with that teasing anxiety that never fully manifested when she said hi to you.

Wanda raised her brows indiscreetly. “I hope you will soon be able to give that same loyalty to god,” she said. You didn’t give her a response, unsure of what to say when you had no intention of doing such a thing. “In time,” she added when she saw your hesitation.

“Maybe,” you muttered, meeting her half way. “Won’t he love me regardless?” You painted the question with an air of innocence that anyone else would have fallen for. But Wanda saw beyond that and knew you used the faux front purely to challenge her again. She was impressed.

“Of course,” she told you gently. “Always.”

You thought you were being subtle with the way you kept glancing over at the couple. It was breakfast time so there was a general murmur of conversation that you didn’t feel particularly pressed to join in with. All it did was teach you to avoid sitting with the group you had found yourself with again because they seemed to be the only students there who were actively participating in the conversion with the belief it would ‘fix them’. You pitied them in a way, but not enough to interfere with their ramblings about their opposite sex celebrity crushes.

Wanda caught your eye on one of the many times you had peered over. Vision was talking to her but apparently she was as distracted from her company as you were, more fixed on returning your gaze. The corner of her lip twitched when you realised you’d been caught and you swiftly looked away to stare down at your cereal, actively keeping your wandering gaze on the other side of the room for the rest of the meal.

“So what did you do to end up here?” A curly haired boy asked as he strolled into the kitchen you occupied alone. He was swinging a tea towel in his hands as he joined you and started on drying the washing up you had started.

“Got caught making out with the pastor’s daughter,” you said stoically.

“You’re fucking with me,” he grinned and your composure cracked.

“Yeah, but it’s much cooler than the truth,” you told him honestly as he jumped up onto the counter.

“I’m sure it’s not that bad. My grandma walked in on me with my dick down my best friend’s ass,” he told you and you couldn’t stop the laugh that rose promptly. You grinned at the boy next to you in disbelief, thankful that your own luck wasn’t that bad. “Your turn,” he prompted.

“I told my best friend that I like girls. She told my parents,” you said humorously, as though it didn’t hurt like a bitch just to remember.

“I think I have better mates than you,” he concluded. You didn’t argue with that. “I’m James.”

“Y/n,” you replied. “How long have you been here?”

“Four months.”

“What?” You splashed some water over the floor when your hand slipped in shock and James yelped when some drops hit him then started chuckling at the look you were giving him.

“What? Did you think it was only going to last a couple weeks?”

“Kinda, yeah,” you muttered as you returned your attention to your chore. “Do you think you’ll be out soon?”

“Nah, they know I’m bullshitting them. We all are, of course, but some of them can trick themselves into believing it, which is good enough for Vision.”

“Yeah, I know Wanda sees right through me,” you told him. “Which by the way, that makes no sense right?”

“I reckon he’s holding her family captive,” James stated simply. You laughed with him easily, glad you had found someone like minded to you. “Hey, do you wanna get high?”

The nimble threads at the bottom of your uniformed cardigan were multiplying as your stay at the camp went by. Your fingers frequently found their way to them when you were uncomfortable, which was more often than not, and pulled at the finer threads until you unintentionally collected a small bundle in the palm of your hands that you had to hide. Vision never commented on it, but Wanda did, telling you that it represented your impulse to repress your femininity or some bullshit like that.

You left the threads alone and laced your hands together in your lap when she gave you a pointed look from her office chair and you muttered an apology.

“I’ve noticed you and James have become quite close,” she commented. “I must admit I was hoping you would find better company in some of the other students here. James doesn’t provide the best example to follow,” she told you.

“We’re just friends,” you shrugged, slightly irked that the older woman had a problem with the one refuge you had been able to find in the camp.

“Are you friends with anyone else here?” She questioned, not yet providing you the warm smile she offered every time you stepped into her office or saw her in general. She didn’t look happy that day. She looked troubled but you didn’t believe that was solely down to your decision to spend time with James.

“Not yet,” you told her even though you weren’t planning on expanding your social circle. Though if it was only two people it must be more of a line. Still, adding that unfulfilled optimism was meant to appease Wanda. You should have expected her to see it for what it really was.

“What do you and James talk about?” She wasn’t going to let it go.

“Our lives, I guess,” you shrugged.

“Your experiences,” Wanda said for you. You knew there was no point in denying that when your glance towards her told her all she needed to know.

“Sometimes.”

“You should only discuss those topics with myself or Vision, otherwise you may end up having those experiences affirmed and encouraged,” she explained pointedly. You nodded uncomfortably as your fingers found their ways to your threads again only to snap back in place when you felt Wanda’s eyes momentarily burn into you. Something was very different with her. “So tell me what you discussed,” she pushed.

“I told him how much I dislike kissing boys,” you told her matter of factly as you tried to suppress your rising irritation. Maybe it was her job, but you hated her need to know everything you and James did.

“And you want to kiss girls instead?”

“I want to do a lot of things with them,” you laid on the innocence thick, playing your role as the good christian who was simply admitting to how she had been led astray and just wanted to atone for her sins. As always, Wanda saw through your facade though that time it made her tick. You knew exactly what you were doing, you just had no idea the effect it was having on the older woman. You had no idea that your insistence on pretending to be good while knowing you were bad stirred something in her that she wasn’t supposed to feel. You were pushing those sinful desires that had infiltrated your mind right into her own and she wouldn’t allow it.

“That’s all for today,” she declared without giving a response to your statement. It hadn’t even been your full session time, maybe more like half of it.

“Okay,” you said slowly as you stood up.

“I suggest you spend the rest of your evening with your roommate today,” she told you as you lingered in the doorway.

“Right, bye,” you bid awkwardly, frowning to yourself as you walked away.

The moment the door closed Wanda sighed heavily and leant back in her chair, catching sight of the framed photo of herself and Vision when they went on a hiking holiday in Colorado. The both beamed at the camera as they held each other close, though Wanda’s love for her husband had been as dim as it was in the present. But it was what god wanted. What god certainly didn’t want was for Wanda to allow her mind to wander to you in the way it had during that session when you had been taunting her with that faux naivety that everyone else seemed to fall for.

She had such hope for you when she first met you. But the images you had put in her head of her hand disappearing beneath your skirt as her lips clashed with yours, pinning you down to that very couch you perched on, that was something that could not be allowed to flourish, no matter how it made her throb between her legs. Wanda forced herself to stare at her husband’s image and remember when he used to make her feel that way, but those memories of his breathless features beneath her were replaced with your own and suddenly she couldn’t help but ponder what your sweet moans would sound like next to her ear as her fingers dipped inside-

“Lord help me,” Wanda called, but he never came.

You and Wanda both faced your own new challenges as the weeks went by. For you, your only refuge was gone. James had been sent back home randomly one night after an incident that no one would discuss with you. You had written your numbers on pieces of paper before that night, but it had disappeared as mysteriously as James had and gave you an equally chilling feeling. You had no idea what was going to happen to him when he arrived home without the results he had been sent away to achieve. Would they send him somewhere else? Somewhere worse? The only thing you could do was try not to end up like him.

Unfortunately, Wanda knew that nothing had changed within you. You continued to try and fool her with your illusion of innocence, reciting what Vision had taught you, socialising with the committed students and answering her questions in the way she wanted to hear rather than the truth. Little did you know that your efforts to quicken your release from the camp were futile, because Wanda simply didn’t want you gone yet. You were fighting a losing battle, just as she was.

As much as she despised to acknowledge it, the brunette fought her own desires as much as you did. It made her hate how much she was drawn to you. It made her ashamed of the acts she envisaged herself performing with you and how she just knew in her heart that you would so willingly part your legs for her. She wasn’t blind to your attraction to her, she had encountered it enough in her career to see it a mile away, no matter how discreet you thought you were being.

“I think I’m getting better,” you lied as you peered at Wanda cautiously.

“And what makes you say that?” The older woman inquired, humouring your plain fib.

“I don’t think about girls,” you said as you willed yourself not to look at Wanda’s long legs that were crossed eloquently.

“What do you think about?” You hadn’t been prepared for that.

“God?” Wrong. Obviously wrong. Wanda hummed and you knew that meant she didn’t buy it.

“Y/n, I want you to start being more honest with me.” You froze and didn’t dare look her in the eye. “I’m aware that you’re not progressing, so I think we should try something new. Just you and me.” You frowned and risked looking up to the confident woman, not having a clue of the excitement that manifested so secretly. “Are you familiar with penance?” You were, yet you had no idea where Wanda was going with it.

“There are many different forms. Some fast, some pray, some confess, but as we practise most of that here anyway, I want to try something else,” Wanda explained as she stood up from her chair and sauntered over to the desk in the corner of her office. You heard her rummaging around in the draws as a feeling of unease began to emerge in your chest. Rightfully so, because when Wanda turned back around, she held a riding crop firmly in her grasp.

“Stand up,” she instructed and you quickly did so as you eyed the tool in her hands. “Usually you would do this yourself, but I don’t believe you’re capable,” she explained lightly. “Hold out your hand.”

“Wanda,” you said as you kept your hand glued to your side. “I don’t want to.” Her features were deceivingly gentle as she listened to you.

“I don’t want to do this to you either, sweetheart. It’s just the only solution. So hold out your hand,” she repeated, gripping the crop so tight you could hear the leather stretch in her grasp. It unsettled you greatly.

“But it will hurt,” you objected, eyes wide. Wanda could have laughed at how oblivious you were to her intentions.

“It’s meant to,” she said simply and grabbed your wrist with a force that completely paralleled the softness of her tone.

“Wanda-” you tried to yank your hand back but you weren’t as strong as the brunette who only had to hold you with one hand while the other brought the crop down hard.

You cried out but Wanda used her grip on you to pull you flush against her chest, her features having turned ice cold. Her lips formed a straight line and her eyes pierced through your own with a sharpness that was usually dulled. The next words she uttered were void of that nurturing faith she used with everyone else and were replaced with something much darker. “If you keep struggling I’ll bend you over that desk and whip your ass instead.” You trembled against her, trying to decipher what your best bet was. When you took too long to decide, Wanda reached around and groped your ass, digging the crop in as she did so as though to make sure you knew she was serious. Your breath hitched as you found yourself completely trapped against the woman that squeezed you through your skirt. You whimpered, riling her up more until you nodded.

“Good,” Wanda exhaled, calming the heat she was struck with at the sight of your fearful eyes. “With every strike, you’re going to confess something you’ve lied about to me.” There were so many lies to choose from that when the first strike came, you struggled to pick one out. “Confess,” Wanda demanded, all of her patience suddenly absent.

“I don’t like boys, I like girls,” you admitted in a rush, refusing to look at Wanda or your burning hand that she struck again. “I’m not doing the work,” you continued. Wanda remained dissatisfied, striking your raw palm again and again as you admitted to your lies, none of which being what Wanda wanted to hear.

“I touch myself!” That was what she was looking for.

“Look at me,” Wanda instructed, examining the tear streaks down your cheeks as you whimpered. It was clear you were trying to appear strong and indifferent, but it was quickly becoming too much. The older woman cooed at you as dropped the crop to the couch behind you and took a hold of your inflamed hand, rubbing the abused hand with a tenderness that only made it burn more.

“Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?” Her smile had grown sinister and you realised you were nowhere near done. “What thoughts do you touch yourself to?” Wanda questioned further, rubbing the most tender areas of your palm.

“Lying with a woman,” you hiccuped, hoping the harmless phrasing could somehow ease your next punishment.

“Who?” She pushed, gripping your chin roughly and forcing you to look straight ahead at her as you confessed what she already knew.

“You,” you whispered. Arousal rushed to the forefront of Wanda’s mind, and with it came anger. You weren't allowed to make her feel the way you did. She had a husband and she was a faithful Christian wife until you showed up and infected her mind with your own illness. You had to be put in your place.

In a blur, you were laying flat on the sofa you had lied continuously to Wanda on. You were barely given the chance to react before Wanda hiked her leg over your chest and straddled you with a purely feral look upon her face. You felt a strike of fear hit you, however you also weren’t blind to how attractive Wanda looked in her state of desperation. It may have been a desperation to reclaim control and to punish you for her own feelings, but it was hot nonetheless.

“You’ve been tempting me ever since you got here,” she hissed, feeling under her conservative skirt for a moment before she lifted it up around her waist. “This is your fault,” Wanda told you as you soaked in the view of her exposed pussy just inches from your face. You could smell her arousal and when she moved to lower herself onto your awaiting mouth, you eagerly grabbed at the back of her thighs until she slapped you away. “You don’t get to touch me with those filthy fingers, just let me use you.” Although you knew it was terribly wrong, you felt your own cunt heat up at her instructions. You knew that it was fucked up that the married woman wanted to get off on riding your mouth, but you wanted it so bad.

“Just like that,” Wanda sighed as you ran your tongue through her wet folds and sucked on them lightly, aiming to savour every drop and inch of her. “Put your tongue out,” she continued to demand. As soon as you did, Wanda began to vigorously grind her clit against your muscle, allowing your tastebuds to become ablaze with her as she cursed above you. You had never heard her swear before and knew she would scold anyone who muttered anything close, so knowing you could elicit such a reaction from her made your insides twist with pride.

She didn’t argue when you switched to sucking on her pulsing clit and felt it throb in your mouth. You moaned against her as her movements continued and her thighs locked around her head. It felt as though she really was using you for her own pleasure, not caring about your own or any comfort. You were the shameful bliss she was forbidden to engage with, but it felt incredible to ignore her god and use you as she wished. But she was really disobeying him, she was just teaching you a lesson. It wasn’t really sinning.

“Fuck, don’t stop. Don’t you dare stop, you slut!” Wanda cried out as she became engulfed with the sensations you gave her. You had no intention of stopping as you shifted to pushing your tongue inside her. You were met by the tight squeeze of her walls and felt your own clench at the discovery she hadn’t had sex in a while. That explained why she was so sensitive too. Besides yourself, you smirked into the older woman and doubled your efforts.

It didn’t take long for Wanda to get close to the bliss she had become stranger to and you weren’t about to let her lose that. She knew her body, even after some time of depriving herself, and told you exactly what to do to get her there. “That’s it, that’s it,” she panted, head swimming as she erratically thrust herself onto her mouth and came with a sharp cry. You moaned against her, adamant on tasting your reward as Wanda trembled on top of you and eventually forced herself off when you didn’t stop. She wasn’t about to let greed overcome her.

You looked up at her with a hesitant smile that was apparently the last thing Wanda wanted to see. She glared at you and immediately lifted you up and spun you around so that you were leaning over the armrest on the sofa, not allowing you a second to object. “What-” you tried but she didn’t want to hear it.

“We’re not done,” she said without care as she lifted your own skirt over your back and yanked down your soaked underwear. She bit her lip at the sight of the wetness that stained them and threw them over to her desk for safe keeping, definitely not to sniff and use to get off later.

“Desperate whore,” she muttered to herself as she ran two fingers through your drenched lips. “You want to get fucked so bad? I’ll show you what it’s like to get fucked.” She let the threat loom over you as dipped her digits into you lightly, barely enough to stimulate you but enough for her to decipher how tight you were. Wanda groaned when she felt you clench in anticipation, desperate for any touch you would give her. At that, she let the remains of her self control slip away and thrust her fingers in at once. “So tight,” she commented as you clung onto the sofa, moaning at the feeling of her filling you up in the way you had dreamed ever since you first met the older woman.

“Wanda,” you whined when she spread her fingers out within you to push your walls.

“Shut up,” she hissed, refusing to listen to your pathetic pleas on the tip of your tongue. “Take it.” And you did. You bit into the couch to mute yourself as Wanda curled and thrust her fingers inside your wet cunt, mapping out every inch of you and pushing your body’s limits. She added a third finger without any consideration to your stifled whines.

Wanda, as she told herself, was only doing it to hurt you and punish you. You deserved it for sinning so openly in her home and for attempting to corrupt her. It wouldn’t work, she convinced herself, she wouldn’t succumb to your lust but she had to show you the right path. She had to make you ache. With that in mind, she added a fourth finger and pumped her fingers in wildly.

You cried out into the material you sunk your teeth into, feeling your pussy sting at the stretch Wanda was causing. Still, you continued to soak down to her palm. It just hurt so good. Too good for Wanda to allow, so she snuck her hand under your shirt and bra to take your nipples between her fingers and twist them cruelly. You whimpered at the unnecessary act, making Wanda grin triumphantly.

Despite the pain, it did little to distract you from the heat between your legs that was quickly growing out of control. Having stretched you out as much as she pleased, Wanda was able to thrust her fingers inside you without mercy, attacking every sensitive nerve until you became a mess on the sofa she was meant to therapise you on. “You going to cum for me, whore?” Wanda asked when she felt you twitch around her. You mumbled a yes you were lucky she heard. “You’re so pathetic like this, so weak to temptation,” she scolded you with a wicked smile you couldn’t see. “Cum for me.” That was all it took for your muscles to clench tightly around her and let go. You moaned like the whore she saw you as as you came, gripping onto the sofa for dear life as Wanda continued to ruthlessly pump her digits into your cunt.

“Too much,” you whined when she failed to stop. She didn’t listen. You came down from one orgasm and soon went tumbling into another when Wadna kept up her actions, making sure to drive her point home. You squirmed under her as your body became overstimulated but there was no room or strength for you to move away. “Please!” You begged as you bucked into her palm, unable to stop the contradicting action that served to amuse Wanda.

“So sensitive,” Wanda mused, coaxing you through another orgasm until she deemed that the message had gone through enough. You collapsed in a defeated heap as she stood up from the sofa and corrected her uniform as though you weren’t even there. You missed her taking her tainted digits into her mouth to appease her curiosity. Lord, she thought as she tasted your sweetness. She swiftly pushed away the impulse to keep you down and taste your sweetness directly from the source. She had to keep things professional after all.

“See me first thing in the morning,” she instructed, features still flushed with lingering lust. She had given into temptation and whether she liked it or not, she would indulge in you again. You weren’t going home anytime soon.

#marvel #wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #dark!wanda maximoff #dark!marvel #scarlet witch

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yandere-romanticaa · 7 months

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𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄! 𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐓 who took a sudden interest in you once you moved to your new place. Finding this place was relatively easy and the rent was dirt cheap. The previous owner was also beyond eager to be rid of this property as soon as he possibly could be. His demeanor when he was showing you around the place was incredibly odd, not to mention that it made you feel jumpy. He was constantly toying with his hands, the sweat he was oh so obviously trying to hide had already created massive puddles all over his white button up, he even tried putting on some cologne and lighting some incense but nothing worked. You decided not to comment and chose to only follow him around, asking him the most basic questions anyone could think of. At the end of the tour the man had turned fully towards you, a big grin suddenly on his face as he raised his arms slightly upwards in a dramatic gesture.

"I'm sure you'll be very comfortable here. Take these keys - welcome to your new home!"

And with that, he was out the door and gone into the night. Holding the metallic key in your hand you closed the door shut and took one last look around the place for the evening. Unfortunately, you were in no position to turn down a place so cheap. It was this or the streets. It'll only be a few months, you had said to yourself.

What could possibly go wrong?

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄! 𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐓, who had been following you around the moment you stepped foot into the place. At first he did nothing but observe as he needed to get used to you, his new roommate. It was enjoyable watching you live out your mundane life, cooking, cleaning and the sorts. He was also interested in your possible hobbies - did you read? Write? Paint? Play an instrument? He has been dead for quite a while now and staying dead can get very tedious and outright boring. He always got a little kick out messing with the owners of this place but there were times when he would go overboard. With a scoff, those thoughts were banished from his mind almost immediately.

It's not as though he was here completely alone. There were... others. Hiding in the shadows. Some more dangerous than others. The rest were human souls such as he was, unable to pass onto the other side. They weren't as proactive as he was as they were not too keen on the living.

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄! 𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐓, who starts leaving you little clues and hints around the house. Old books that you couldn't possibly own, newspapers which dated all the way back to his era. A broken glass here, a suspicious handprint there. He particularly enjoyed praying on you while you occupied the bathroom. Don't get him wrong, he was no pervert! Heavens no!

... Maybe he was a little. No need to worry, it's not as though he can act out on any of his urges anyway.

But there was just something so vulnerable to see you so exposed, so completely alone in your element. There was no one else who could see you like this (he always laughed a little at your cluelessness). Your image was etched into his memory like a record that played over and over, if he had the ability to paint you, he would.

Watching became tedious though. He wanted and needed more.

Even in death, he was still just a man.

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄! 𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐓, who was trying to get you to talk to him. By simply calling out to him was enough, at least at the start. There was an old ouija board hidden beneath an old bed and it was the perfect means of communication.

He just wished there were other, more safer options than that. He knew all too well that if a person was not careful they could summon something else completely.

That was how he got into this mess into the first place.

That thing would also catch wind of things. He couldn't allow that. Feelings he hasn't felt in decades started to come flooding back but they were even stronger than they ever were in life. Panic, fear and worry - they were all consuming and nothing could ease his mind. Even as he stood at the foot of your bed and watched your chest rise up and down, up and down, there was still no peace for him. He was bitter at your liveliness and your ability to breathe but at the same time, the softness of your cheeks and the song of your laughter became addictive, dare he say like a drug. He wasn't too fond of the fact that other people came over so often, that was not fair.

It was supposed to be just you and him! Even if you didn't know it yet!

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄! 𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐓 who amps up the hauntings and starts becoming more aggressive. He is sick and tired of these games, he wants you all to himself. Windows are forced open and shut, books and other objects start flying off shelves in the dead of night and you even manage to catch a glance of him one evening in the bathroom mirror.

You tried running out the door, barely even dressed but he had locked all of the door beforehand.

His voice could be heard tandem echoes, all teasing and petrifying. He wasn't sure if he wanted you alive or dead anymore.

He just wanted you to stay.

#just something quick for the evening #yandere #yandere x reader #yancore #yandere imagines #yandere x you #yanderecore #yandere aesthetic #yandere scenarios #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #male yandere #tw yandere #yandere ghost

1K notes · View notes

whiskeyskin · 3 months

Text

Make Me Feel

Premise: What's that? The well trodden trope of weird potion creates problems of the - ahem - 🍆 variety? Well if you insist.

• Astarion x gn!tav • 18+ • E/M rating

They/them pronouns, Potion mishap!, interrupted masturbation, handjob, bj/deep throat, embarrassment, tone shift, mild canon trauma discussion, connection, enthusiastic consent, communication, dirty talk.

4.1k words

Edit: RAHHH! You're all so wonderful for getting me over 200 notes 😚 it may be a small number for some but to me it's a lot. Love you! 🥹🖤

Editedit: Over 400 notes?! Excuse me as I ugly cry 😭😭😚✨

Thank @northernolddragon for the beautiful screenshot 💜🥵

•°•°•

Tav was on watch with Shadowheart this evening, not that they really needed to with Gale's wards keeping an alarm on things coming in or out of camp but they all slept better with a night watch.

They'd enjoyed company and conversation as they spoke about everything and nothing. Mostly about Tav, since Shadowheart had very little memories to share.

A friendship had steadily grown with them, so much that she'd revealed herself a Sharron - which wasn't really a shock.

A low alarm pulsed and they went to investigate to the left of camp but after a little cooperation between Tav's survival skills and Heart's perception, concluded that an animal had triggered the alarm - hence the low pulse and the fresh animal tracks belonging to a rabbit.

Tav paused a moment, a thought flashing across their mind. They called to Shadowheart, "Hey, did you hear Astarion come back in from hunting?

"No, he didn't go out tonight. Said, 'he had something else to attend to'."

Again, Tav paused. Oh, shit. Had they promised he could feed tonight and completely forgotten?

"Are you supposed to be 'dining tonight'?" Shadowheart asked through a smirk.

"I don't think so.. maybe? Oh, gods. Maybe I did say." Said Tav, trying to think back on the day.

"Go check on him, see if he's waiting up for a midnight snack. I'll stay on watch." She pursed her lips and swished her long braid as she walked to do a patrol of the camp.

~~~

Tav quietly made their way passed the tents of their companions, who were softly - or loudly - snoring. Astarion's tent however still had a candle going and made no sounds of sleep, or revery but rather stranger noises. Hissing sounds from the side of his mouth and what seemed like a painful gasp.

Their brow creased with concern, Tav stepped up to the entrance of his tent. The noises intensified.

"Astarion?" Tav called through the fabric in a hushed whisper, "Are you alright?"

A choked noise of frustration replied to them first, "Uh-yes. I'm perfectly fine. Why do ask?" He retorted a little too sharply, despite his usual lulling tones.

"Shadowheart said you hadn't gone hunting and I couldn't remember if I'd agreed to let you feed tonight."

"Ah, you're such a sweetheart.. while I always delight in our little nightly visits, I've rather got my hands full with something at the moment." He strained, like he was in pain. Something wasn't right.

"Astarion. What's going on? I know something's wrong. What is it? What have you done?" Tav asked, exasperated.

"Ughh, it's nothing just-Arghh" he let out a muffled cry.

"I'm coming in." Tav announced, pushing their way inside the dimly lit interior.

"No, no, don't!" But it was too late.

Tav's mouth flew to their face, shocked at the view.

There, on the floor, in only his ruffled shirt and barely covered in his grotty blanket was Astarion. Although, the blanket was more of tent itself with what it was shielding.

"Oh! Oh, shit. Sorry-sorry! I'll leave." Tav blustered at the sight of the half naked pale elf on the floor before them. They'd clearly not been sounds of pain, and the frustration was aimed at them not leaving him to masturbate in peace.

"No, stay. Please." He croaked, desperate, "I don't know what else to do; I need your help."

"With what?" Tav questioned, averting their eyes to afford him some sort of privacy.

"I appreciate the gallantry but we can do away with the charade, you know what I was doing." He sulked, shifting his weight to sit up, the ruffles on his shirt bristling as he heaved himself upwards.

Tav's eyes tracked the movement and flitted down to the protrusion, unwavering in it's vigil against the thin protection of his grey comfort rag.

Hot flashes of memories seared their mind; remembering how it felt in their hands, hot and cool at the same time. Harder than rock as he'd moved within them, expertly stroking their sweet spot while feeding openly on their blood.

Tav bit their lip, then jolting back to the situation, looked away.

"Um, you said you needed my help. I don't know how I can-"

"I have been.. doing this to myself for the past three hours. It's incessant."

"Jeez, Astarion. I don't need to know that."

"Not for my own selfish good. I-" he growled to himself, it made Tav's stomach flip uncomfortably, "I drank something. It looked like a normal potion, but it tasted a bit off.. and now, this." He gestured to the distinct lump, "It's unbearable and painful if it's not being.. used." He paused, discomfort clear on his face.

A blush flooded Tav's cheeks, "Aaand, you want me to help by..?" They trailed, needing more explanation. Because if he was suggesting what they thought he was suggesting...

"Ugh, I don't know. This obviously isn't helping! Find something that can? Another potion, a spell? Anything!" He waved his arms helplessly into the air.

Astarion looked up at them; his shirt in disarray, his legs gently folded with the blanket tucked between them, with guilty but adamant eyes. He looked helpless and adorable.

A feeling was stirring in Tav's chest, something rumbling and loud but it wasn't arousal, it was laughter. They caught a snicker behind their hand, trying to hold in their amusement.

Astarion's face changed to surprise, with a big frown cutting across his beautiful features.

"Well, thanks a lot. Glad the bleeding heart thinks it's funny." He pouted.

"Oh, come on Astarion. It's pretty funny."

Astarion's eyes narrowed, "How precisely is this funny?" He demanded.

"It's so unfunny that it's funny again. It has to be laughed at how ridiculous this is. I mean, come on." They tried to explain, "you drank a strange elixir and now you have an erection that won't fuck off." Tav barely made it through the last word without sniggering, "You've been beating yourself stupid and it's not going anywhere. It's a fucking ridiculous situation to be in and if you can't laugh about it? Fuck." They shrugged, smiling brightly and encouraging him to see the funny side of this ridiculousness, "I thought you said Lae'zel was the one with no sense of humour."

"Actually, Lae'zel is hilarious. She just doesn't realise she's being hilarious," The frown on his face softened, a smile clearly fighting to spread across his face, "I suppose it is absurd. Most men would kill for this."

"Most people would pay good money for this problem!" Tav squeaked, "Oh gods, the old men that have given all their gold for this problem!" They whined out before coming down to kneel on the floor.

"All of them furiously masturbating to get rid of it after their mistress has left and their wife will notice." He chuckled.

"Oh, the scandal." Tav flourished.

"What would the neighbours say?" He jested, opening up to the idea that the incredulity of it all needed to be laughed at.

He mimed trying to push it down only for it to spring back up with a pop sound effect provided by him and they fell about cackling together.

It was nice. Seeing him smile.

~~~

They sat laughing for a while, trying to come up with unfortunate scenarios to find yourself in with this predicament. Each as hilarious at the next.

Howls turned giggles, and giggles turned to titters, until eventually they were all laughed out.

There was a comfortable silence between them for several moments. Tav glanced back at him.

"Did that help? Taking your mind off it?" Tav asked, hopeful.

"I'm afraid not. Still there. Although, it's taken away the urgency of needing that release."

"That's a start at least. What the hell's did you drink?"

"I don't know, it was in the pack from today's adventure with the hag."

"You drank one of the hag's potions?" Tav chided, incredulous.

"Of course not! What do you take me for?"

Tav raised their brows and wordlessly gestured to his lap.

"Point taken," he relented, "but, no it was a regular looking potion bottle. I needed a little healing, so I.." he trailed off, loosely waving a hand.

"You drank a random potion from today, before we'd had a chance to examine it and expected nothing to go wrong. You brought this on yourself." Tav pursed their lips mockingly.

"Yes, thank you for stating the obvious, dear. What am I going to do?" He asked, exasperated.

"Well, masturbating yourself sore hasn't worked, so it can't be about orgasming it out of you."

"Oh, I haven't orgasmed. That's what I was trying to tell you before, but in my feverish haze didn't get out into words properly."

"After three hours?" Tav asked, wide eyed.

"It was more stop/start than powering through. I'm drawing the assumption that while this potion grants me this bloody thing, it doesn't heighten the sensation much."

"Maybe it deadens it? To keep it going longer? That's why you couldn't.. yuh know." Tav mimed the action for affect. They shared a small titter through their noses.

"I haven't a clue. Although, I'm not really.. versed in this sort of thing. It's not something I do, not something I've done for centuries," he admitted, shrugging, "Self pleasure wasn't high on the list when the thought of touching anyone, let alone yourself made your skin crawl-" Astarion caught himself, his eyes widening.

Tav's mouth gaped, "What?" The question came out breathy and low. Hurt struck painfully into their heart, "So the night we spent together you were disgusted-"

"-No. No. Well, at first it I was a little but-"

Tav's eyed widened and they recoiled, wounded. He knew he'd revealed too much and Tav could see that flawless mask of his was trying to slot back into place after it's momentary lapse.

"Don't." Tav urged, "Don't pretend you didn't say it."

"It wasn't like that-I didn't mean you, you're wonderful. I meant in Baldur's Gate with Cazador. The manipulation, the decite. I couldn't. I never." He stopped himself.

Tav softened, the harm still stinging but this was important. Astarion had never spoken about his time with Cazador apart from being a slave and using sex to lure people back. He hadn't elaborated more than those facts. Obviously he would have sexual trauma. And he'd opened up a chance at the conversation.

"It's alright. I'm here to listen. Go on." Their tone was low and understanding.

His face full of uncertainty and shame, Astarion shook his head and refused to look at them.

"I don't want to. Not yet. Not now. I mean.. I just want this thing gone." He motioned to his still swollen member.

Tav's brow knitted and they shrugged heavily.

"Apart from distracting you from it, I don't know what I can do." Tav raised their hands in exasperation, "I mean if you can't do it after three hours, what am I supposed to do-"

"Trust me, you'd be able to help." He said darkly, almost to himself. His gaze darted back, scared by another accidental confession. Tav's confused expression must have been clearly legible.

"What do you mean?"

Astarion averted his eyes, clearly debating on letting more of his secrets out.

"Shit." He cursed. There was a pregnant pause that Tav refused to break.

"You-" he stopped himself, "the other night at the party was- it was-" he shut his eyes and sighed through his nose, "I can't do this, you can leave. I'll just keep this forever."

"Astarion.." Tav said softly, gently reached a reassuring hand to the floor beside him.

He took a deep, cleansing breath and swallowed.

"It was the first time I've known actual pleasure in almost 200 years. Where I actually enjoyed myself, much to my surprise."

Suddenly feeling relieved and very flattered, Tav remained stone-faced silent, encouraging him to keep going.

"My existence has been about having my body used to lure back pretty things for him. To get them to trust me and let their guard down, then.." he trailed off, "I tried to make the most of it and relish in the copious amounts of sex I was having.. It didn't last long. I got extremely good at pretending I did, they never suspected a thing." He said with a sneer.

"I became numb to the entire experience. It was nothing to me. A dance. A deception. It became second nature and I got used to the disgust I felt, I used it to push through. To hold onto some semblance that I had one shred of humanity left. As long as I despised myself for what I was doing, there was still hope."

"So imagine my shock when I actually felt something different with you. Something good." He finally looked in their eyes, "You are a bastion of firsts in this newfound freedom of mine. My first true blood, the first person who has let me indulge in my instincts and helped me grow in my power," Astarion swallowed, "the first person in so long to make feel something.. anything.. during sex that wasn't hatred and self-loathing."

Tav's throat closed and tears threatened to brim but they blinked them back.

"You offered your neck to me, your life blood to me and I felt something.. it wasn't like our usual feeds.. it was something immense.. something transcendant and I.. I lost myself in you.. wholly. Pleasure had returned to my body and I froze. I didn't know what to do."

"Nothing else existed outside us.. and I could have spent the rest of my life buried inside you," he paused, closing his eyes as if the memory over-powered him. Tav sat there, breathless, mesmerised by his beauty in the candle's soft glow.

"I think I came back to consciousness when I saw my seed over your beautiful body. You looked just as shocked as I felt. It was all over your chest, your mouth.." he was breathing heavily now and the air around them shifted. Tav swallowed dryly. They remembered.

The grunting, ecstatic moan he'd made when he came over them echoed in their mind long after. They'd pulled back from lavishing his thick, pale cock to pause for breath and to whisper sweet words to him. He'd erupted on them with no more than a silent gasp and a hand fisted in their hair.

Staring deeply into Tav's eyes, Astarion continued, "You took me so well," he brought a hand to their bottom lip, grazing it lightly with his fingertips, "With your mouth.. with all of your holes, actually. Your wonderfully tight holes." He moaned through a sly smile.

Tav's mouth was aridly dry, as all the blood in their body waved and pooled to their core. Heat radiated through them and quickly made breathing steadily a problem, and logical thinking was non-existent.

"I know you could do it again, if you wanted to." he closed his eyes and snaked himself closer against Tav's neck, inhaling deeply. His breath cool raising gooseflesh, as he pressed his lips against the shell of their ear, "You could wrap those soft lips around my cock and suck me like you did in the forest. So deep and so warm."

Tav's thoughts were like wading through thick, soupy mud as Astarion's words clouded their mind and flooded their body with desire.

"I've never been devoured quite like that, you fit yourself around me so well.. you were such a good f-"

Tav quickly brought their hand to his mouth. He had to be silenced. His seductive power was too much to leave unbridled.

Mentally shaking off his charms, Tav came some what back to their senses.

"In one breath you tell me how disgusted you are with sex and the next you say about wanting my 'tight holes'? What is it that you want, Astarion? You can't have it both ways."

"Of course I can, darling. Now I can. Things have changed. Lots of things. I have my body back and I decide what to do with it. And right now.." he moved with the lithe limbs of a panther to sidle himself beside them, the grey blanket gently pulling back to reveal his thick, swollen manhood. He exhaled at the softness leaving him, "I want.."

Tav swallowed hard, their lips parted. Another wave of euphoric desire swept over them as the cool touch of his skin ghosted against theirs.

Astarion reached over and grasped their hand and placed it on his engorged cock.

"This." He hissed as their skin finally touched, his cool hardness welcome in their palm.

Gods, he was so erect. The veins in his thick shaft pulsating. The velvet softness of him thrummed with desperate need.

He was so close to them, so close now.. they could kiss if he wanted them to. Astarion breathed against Tav's mouth, "Touch me."

He started to move both their hands in short bursts over the head of his penis, Astarion shuddered out a gasp and screwed his eyes shut, "Touch me. Please."

Tav willingly acquiesced, bending down to spit on his painfully erect cock and began to work.

He made a staggered, breathless moan as he leaned back on both hands, exposing himself to them. Tav pumped his rock hard length in a steady rhythm, remembering back to the Tiefling party that he had appreciated the gentle building of friction, to fruition.

His head was purple and looked sore from his abusing himself for so long in search of relief. Tav generated salvia in their mouth and spat on their other hand to use on him.

The sweetest moan they'd ever heard sang from Astarion's chest.

"Yes-yes-use your hands on me.. make me feel like before.. make me feel-" he gasped through the last word so ferociously he inadvertently bared his fangs.

Tav used their hands in symbiotic motion; pumping the bottom of his shaft with their non-dominant, while teasing and playing with the head between their deft fingers, all the while keeping his entirety slick in saliva.

Gods, they wanted to use their mouth on him properly. He looked so beautiful, unmasked before them. He had been so unexpectedly naked and raw with his past. Revealing hard and difficult truths regarding his lack of control, and autonomy of his own body.

And Tav had to respect that, no matter how aroused they were. They would show that his trust was placed rightly in them.

"Astarion?" They called softly to him.

He answered back with a broken, "Mhm?"

"Thank you for telling me what you did. I won't tell anyone else, you have my word."

"Mm-mm-thankyou, Tav." He managed, his voice tense.

Tav slowed their pace and Astarion let out a whine, balling up his fists in frustration.

"Don't pretend with me. Don't force it."

"I'm not, I swear." He gasped, looking directly at them, a light sheen of sweat appearing on his upper lip.

Tav smirked, "Promise you won't."

"Yes-yes, I promise. Please speed up again." He pleaded through gritted teeth, thumping his head back on the pillow.

"I will. But I'd like to use my mouth on you aswell, would that be okay?"

He let out a pent up huff of air, "Oh gods yes, yes, yes-please use that gorgeous mouth on me. Swallow me. Take me."

Tav smiled and quickly got into position, propped between his legs, "I'd also like to play with your testicles, if that's agreeable."

Astarion wrenched his red hot eyes open, making contact with theirs again. Tav irked a suggestive brow.

A devilish grin crossed his face, once again his fangs shone in the dim candle light, "Oh, my dear. That would be most agreeable." He purred through steadier breaths now they had paused.

"One request from me though; don't push my head down, I don't like it. I'll respect your wishes and you respect mine. Deal?"

"Deal." He smiled and reached down to collect his shirt up to reveal his pale, chiseled body. Tav looked hungrily at his toned flesh, desperate to snake it with their tongue.

They took a breath to ask but Astarion interrupted, "Yes, gods please yes! Lick it, kiss it, bite it, suck me. Do what you want with me.. I'll tell you to stop if it's too much."

"I'll hold you to that." They crooned with a serious edge, as they spat on their hand again, then manoeuvred themselves to be able to kiss his beautiful body, and pump the head simultaneously.

He twitched at the increase in contact and laughed hungrily through strained teeth, "Uhhgh, fuck yes."

Tav languished their lips and tongue across the defined muscles, gently sucking and nibbling occasionally for added sensation. They kissed and dragged their tongue up and down the V in his hips, paying equal and excruciating mind to each side, making Astarion moan and buck.

Tav firmly pressed kisses on the creases of his pelvis, breathing hot over the area. They took their time, languishing over his form with their mouth and exploring the contours of his hips and thighs with their spare hand. Astarion groaned in vexation.

"Ooh, don't tease me. Please."

"The potion is making you impatient. You enjoyed this last time." Tav reminded him.

"It's not the bloody potion-Gods above-AUGH-I'm asking nicely. Don't keep me waiting any longer, I've already been edged enough. Show me-make me feel-let me feel-"

Astarion gasped as Tav collected the precum that bloomed at his tip, and licked their fingers clean, before deftly angling themselves to engulf his thick cock as much as they could.

The noises that were illicited from the pale elf were unlike any they'd ever heard before - strained and trembling, through gritted teeth and grounded fists - and the sloppy, wet sounds that their mouth made around his unyielding cock were intentionally and debaucherously pornographic.

Momentarily retreating, they began flicking their tongue over the slit, Tav moaned from the back of their throat like he was a tall mug of water quenching debilitating thirst. One hand holding his length steady, the other lightly grazing his testes.

Astarion's thighs fluttered and tensed, as Tav heard a smile through his own moan, "Ooh, that's new."

"Mhm."

Gathering more sleek, Tav ran the flat of their tongue up the smooth underplane of Astarion's cock from base to tip, and encircled the head. His member twitched unconsciously as he let out a warm, low rumble from his chest.

"Is that alright? Not too much?" Tav asked, checking in. They kissed the crease of his frenulum, while nimbly massaging and squeezing his sac.

"Mm-mhm-yes. I'm gaining quite an appetite for your skills in this area." He cooed, shifting underneath them, "but I remember a rather more deeper approach last time."

Tav grinned at his less than subtle request, "Oh, my darling. We're just warming up.. but if you're ready for more. I will, of course.. oblige."

Unhinging their jaw like a snake preparing to consume their pray, Tav gorged on the willing partner in front of them.

Astarion sucked in a gasp and Tav felt a hand on the back of their head briefly, before being removed hastily. Tav heard his fist pound into the bedroll beside him. They moaned in thanks, vibrating against his solid shaft.

He replied with a deep rumble from his chest, "Yes.. that's what I've been missing. This is what I needed.."

Bobbing and dipping, taking just a little more in their mouth each time. Sucking and stroking his perfect length. Their mouth salivated and filled with lubricant, anticipating the meal in front of them. Finally meeting their lips on their pumping fist, working together harmoniously.

Tav relaxed their throat further and began swallowing the last length of him, suppressing the need to gag until it would afford the most pleasure. They flattened their tongue and swallowed, sucked and gagged as Astarion whimpered and moaned, unconsciously jerking. Tav placed a hand on his hips to steady him, to not ruin the mood by choking unexpectedly.

They pressed down just above his pubic bone as their lips bottomed out against him, tears forming wet stains under their eyes at the challenge of taking his full size. Tav gulped and gasped against his cock, enveloping him with their tongue and throat working in tandem, coating him in liquid slick. The debased, vile sounds coming from their meeting wet and loud and hot as the hells; pushing him higher, dragging him under, coercing him to cum.

He gasped and raised his head to look down at them. Tav met his tear-streaked, claret gaze, with their own.

"Ohh-yes-yes-look at me as you devour my cock-take it all the way down your throat-such a good-nasty-AHH-YES!" He gargled the last word through moans and his hips pulsated and thrust wantonly as he bunched his shirt in his hand, the other fisted around his greyed rag blanket.

His brows creased, his face wracked with pleasure and pain. His face contorted and twisted as he writhed and moaned. He panted and heaved and shook his head from side to side.

Concern furrowed their brow at his expressions, while he seemed to be "enjoying himself", they were reminded of his words from their conversation, that his sexual conquests couldn't tell that he was pretending.

Tav pulled back to breathe through their nose. They reached out with the tadpole and gently stroked his mind, seeking reassurance that this was what he wanted. That he wasn't pretending. That this was real. That this was what he wanted.

"Yesyesyesyes-oh gods-please don't stop-choke on my cock till you can't breathe-ARH-going to cum down your throat and taste myself on your tongue-fuck!-fuck my hard cock deep in your throat-do it-do it-doit-doit-doit" he repeated, trailing off in whimpers against his soiled comfort blanket.

That enthusiastic consent was all they required.

This was a challenge that they would unabashedly attempt to conquer. They had no idea if they could; he hadn't fed on them this time and the potion was an unknown quantity for help, or hindrance. They had no idea. But damned if they weren't going to try. Tav steeled themself and took a deep breath.

They made no illusions at a slow build in tension, they went straight for the kill.

Straining down his hard length to the hilt, making the most illicit and disgusting sodden noises as they consumed him, squeezing him with the throat that tried to resist his intrusion.

Astarion growled and whined and shook with the tension in his body coiled so tightly.

Tav stretched their jaw to lap their tongue against his balls, which tightened due to the expected feeling. He rewarded their efforts with another mumbled, half coherent onslaught of praise and explicit desires.

They re-applyed the pressure on his pubus, pushing down firmly against his taut skin.

A breathless gasp shot from his throat as the hand bunched in his shirt now flew to grasp their hand with choruses of, "yes-yes-yes!"

He was so close, they could feel it. His precum tainted the back of their throat. His jaw was tight and his glistening fangs were bared.

Tav remembered back once more to what had unexpectedly tipped him over the edge when they'd made him cum the last time.

Concentrating hard on keeping the fast-paced rhythm, tears streaming from their eyes, they flipped their hand to hold his properly.

Tav reached out through their connection and whispered, "I've got you, Astarion.. you're safe. Nothing bad is going to happen to you, I promise.. I have you.. Cum, Astarion.. cum, my love."

Astarion stilled, his every muscle contracting and seizing, his chest rising off the floor as his spine curved.

A gentle, surprised gasp escaped from his mouth. He squeezed their hand so tightly as their name died on his lips.

Suddenly Tav felt warmth shoot against the back of their throat as he came hot and quick, filling their mouth and spilling out the sides and he thrust wildly, unable to control his movements. His cries of pleasure muted and gasping.

Tav gagged and slowed to a gentler pace, swallowing him down. Astarion twitched and quivered as they saw him through his climax; still holding each others hand.

His soft, whimpering groans dissolved into laboured heaves as he relaxed into the lull of his orgasm.

A moan shuddered from him as Tav expertly extracated his thankfully - slightly - softening member from their stretched throat.

They tenderly cleaned him up with their tongue, as there was quite a lot that had spilled from his heavy, metallic-tanged load, while Astarion lay there in stunned silence.

Tav dried their eyes and gently rested their chin on his thigh and sighed deeply, their hands still joined on his stomach.

They kissed his cool skin, "Are you alive up there?" Tav asked, jokingly.

Silence.

If he wasn't already dead, they'd have thought he'd died.

"Astarion?"

"M'alive." He mumbled in a stupor.

"Good." Tav said through a wry smile.

They looked to their left where his cock was already starting to swell again and sighed.

"I don't think it worked, you're getting hard again."

Still nothing.

Tav furrowed their brow, "Do you hear me up there?"

Still nothing.

Starting to worry, Tav raised themselves up and started padding their way one-handed up towards his face. His crimson eyes were fixed on ceiling of the tent, drying tears still streaked down his temples.

"Are you alright? Was it too much?" Tav asked, worried they'd gone too far.

He finally blinked.

"My body feels like it's.. weightless and.. empty. My head feels like.. I've been zapped with a.. shocking grasp.. and my ears are ringing." His tone was high and dazed. His every move tinged with exhaustion. His expression one of pure contentment.

He was fully in an afterglow bubble. That was better than potentially traumatised.

Tav pursed their lips with pride, "Sounds like a good orgasm then. Was it?" They asked, feigning innocence.

Astarion gave a long blink and turned his gaze to Tav, who lay to the side of him.

"You've rendered me paralsyed. I think we can call that a success, don't you?"

Tav chuckled, "Well, a semi-success. You've still got your problem." They gestured a thumb towards his now alarming erection again.

"Oh no, that's not the potion. That's me."

Tav jerked their neck in questioning confusion, "Eh?"

"I'm laying here sprawled on the floor after one of the best orgasms of my long life. Two of whom have been granted by you.. and the only thing I can think of.. is that I need to do that again."

Tav bit their bottom lip through a grin spreading across their face.

"But we said that that night was a one-time thing and this is an extraordinary circumstance.. this isn't supposed to-"

His pale pink lips came up to capture their first kiss of the night and from the passion and force behind it, it was not to be their last.

Astarion slid his fingers to their umber trousers and cupped them through the fabric. Tav gasped against his mouth as they twitched within his grasp, the damp spot of their arousal staining their clothes. They sucked in Astarion's bottom lip into their mouth and cursed.

"Well, apparently that arrangement needs to be renegotiated." He smirked, as he kissed them deeply, sweeping his tongue to taste himself there.

He brought his hand to the buckle, "And these definitely need to come off."

•°•

#astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion smut #bg3 astarion #bg3 smut #smut #astarion x tav #astarion x gn!tav

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1shirt2shirtredshirtdeadshirt · 1 year

Text

Today on popping the corn and feeding the children, what do you folks think of this discussion? :)

I'm always curious to hear what other Trek fans, especially queer Trek fans, think about our place in Trek history and how we fare as the queer participants within our fandom. What have your experiences been like?

Overwhelmingly I've found a great reception and a welcoming attitude, but I admit that has increased considerably since the 90s. However, there are still some Trek fans who seem to be vehemently in denial about queer history in Star Trek, or the fact that anyone who has worked on Trek has pro-LGBT attitudes. This always surprises me considering some of the blatant queer content we have already seen in Star Trek such as the Jadzia Dax and Lenara Kahn kiss.

Anyway, I enjoyed the discussion that followed and seeing the overwhelming outpouring of support coming from Star Trek fans in response to this thread.

Here was my two cents contribution:

"No, what they said was factual.

Have you forgotten Nichelle Nichols was indeed an African American woman in the core seven bridge crew back in 1966?

Or the fact that Gene Roddenberry went out of his way to write The Motion Picture Novel, creating the term "T'hy'la: friend, brother, lover" so that fans could choose which interpretations of Kirk and Spock they saw fit? He also embraced K/S fans and hired a number of them to write the earliest Star Trek novels, including the very first official one (The New Voyages Vol. 1 & 2) which included slash fiction as well as Gene's approval/forward in the books.

In case anyone has forgotten, here's a little bit of background on Gene Roddenberry and his perspectives on queerness in Star Trek.

He admitted that in his early life he was very affected by how society and culture treated the LGBT community, and that he too found himself subjugating and judging others for that lifestyle because it was what people did at that time. As he got older and had more life experience, he began working with a number of queer artists in Hollywood -- and through TOS, a number of queer individuals began asking questions about Kirk and Spock.

Instead of vehemently shutting down this perspective, Roddenberry was intrigued, and saw potential to tap into a large audience (LGBT) that most others didn't want to go near or acknowledge publicity-wise. He saw it as an opportunity to expand the fanbase while also pushing yet another envelope.

But with the heat already on the show for what they'd already pushed, he found he was often stuck between what he'd like to do and what production would let him get away with. There are a number of Kirk and Spock scenes in scripts that got cut out for leaning a little too obviously romantic. Tiny trickles of that content still made it in were infamous moments like the backrub scene in Shore Leave. Even the 2009 movie had a K/S moment while Spock Prime and Kelvin Spock talked that was written and filmed that was cut out of the final product.

Queer subtext and coding has always been relentlessly weeded away at with an excuse ready to go for why they always try to cut us out, but we all know it's because they are scared of the homophobic backlash and ratings hits. Look how violently homophobes went after the gay romance episode of The Last of Us **just this year**. This has always been our reality, so for someone like Roddenberry to make efforts in the 70s? That was massive.

But Gene as well as the queer/slash Trek community managed to accomplish some things in the 70s which I'm surprised more folks don't talk about or give much credit.

In the same TMP novel which features "T'hy'la" and the famous footnote, Gene cleverly wrote Kirk with a bisexual/pansexual lens: Kirk describes himself as *preferring* women but being open to "physical love in **any** of its many Earthly, alien, and mixed forms." (Direct quote from Genes book). Basically, Captain Kirk was DTF with whoever if there was a connection, which was a very progressive take for a character in a novel written in 1979, but made sense for the future which would have a lot less hang ups about sex and love compared to our current rather puritan/conservative society.

I also prefer women, but I married a man. Shout out to Gene Roddenberry for giving us a seat at the table back in the 70's when folks *still* try to insist there is no place for K/S or queer concepts in Trek, because he made efforts -- however small -- to employ queer people and show queer perspectives. According to David Gerrold, LGBT+ representation was a big thing that Gene personally pushed for in TNG and wanted various depictions of love/couples in the Risa scenes, to name one example.

In the 70s, fanzines led to meetings and swapped fanmade magazines, which got so big that they needed hotel centers, then convention centers, then one day the TOS cast came to one and what we know as modern fan conventions were born -- inspiring even George Lucas who attended Trek conventions in the 70s and saw how popular Trek was in syndication; it was a great climate to launch his Space Opera. Star Wars then became so huge that we got TMP.

But none of that would have happened without the level of organization, passion, and creativity that those fans poured into Star Trek and their characters after it got cancelled and went into syndication.

Without queer folks we wouldn't have George Takei, Theodore Sturgeon who gave us Tribbles, Bill Theiss and his amazing TOS costumes, Mike Minor's art direction, Merritt Butrick, David Gerrold (writer for TOS, TAS, TNG) to name a few of many queer contributors to Trek that Roddenberry respected and tried to go to bat for wherever he could in a climate that was absolutely impossible to gain an inch in.

At a time during the 70s and 80s when so many people resented and feared the queer community and wanted us to disappear, especially in the 80s during the AIDS epidemic which many homophobes claimed was "God's punishment to the gay community" or "Gods's answer" to our "hedonism", thinking we'd gotten our just desserts and should just disappear . . .

During that time, Gene Roddenberry gave us queer folks a place to say: "You know what? Sure. Write your stories. TV says you guys shouldn't exist, they pull books with queer people off the shelves and burn them. Laws exist specifically to forbid you guys from loving each other, and call you mentally ill. You can't even hold hands in public. But I'm going to validate you guys and invite you to write novels or work for me, try to see what we can get by production, and allow you to see yourselves in my characters if you want to. There's a place for you in our fandom."

He gave us bi/pan Kirk, he gave us K/S is open to interpretation. In Phase 2 Kirk's surviving nephew Peter, son of his brother Sam from Operation: Annihilate!, was going to be written as gay and living on the Enterprise with his partner -- that also got chopped and reworked into a script that wouldn't get used until decades later. That was huge at a time that being queer was officially listed as a mental illness, and villainized due to the AIDS crisis.

So before you try to dismiss or tell K/S + queer Trek fans whether or not they deserve a seat at the table, remember that Gene Roddenberry was among the **first** to pull that seat out for us in a climate that was ruthlessly against LGBT+ folks." -- 1Shirt2ShirtRedShirtDeadShirt

P.S: Have some cute bisexual/pansexual K/S pride gifs. :) Pride month is a hop, skip and a jump away.

LLAP!🖖💚

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fallingdownhell · 3 months

Note

Hi, I really enjoy your writing! Since you're taking requests may I ask for headcanons about what would cyno be like as a lover?

Have a wonderful day.

Of course!! I love Cyno so much! Relationship: Cyno as your lover Content: gender neutral reader; established relationship; mostly just fluff; not proofread yet Word count: 890 words Enjoy<3

first of, I think Cyno would be a really good boyfriend

he's attentive towards your needs and wants, he listens to you and though he's not the best at communicating his feelings, he tries his best for you

I imagine he likes to do little things for you throughout your day. Making you breakfast is almost always a given with him. He prepares things for you he knows your going to need, either later or maybe for work the next day

he notices you had an exhausting day? He's preparing a nice bath for you to relax and calm down. If you want him to, he'll stay with you and either talk or listen, whatever you prefer. But if you want some alone time, he's fine with that, too

I think that his love language would either be Acts of Service or Quality Time. Since he sometimes has to go away on longer missions for his job, he likes to spend as much time with you as possible

for him, it's not about what you do together, just that it's the two of you doing it and spending one on one time

as much as he likes to be alone with you, he likes it just as much when you're spending time with him and his friends. He'd be especially overjoyed if you get along well with Tighnari and Collei

invites you along whenever he goes to the Avidiya Forest, and more often than not, you tag along with him, excited to see the Forest Ranger again

when you spend time alone at home with him and are not out and about with some activity, he likes to teach you the ropes of TCG

he wouldn't be too over the top with it, but he'd really like it if his s/o could play the game and do a few rounds with him

he wouldn't force you if you really didn't like the game at all, but he'd still like it if you'd at least watch the matches he has against other players

however, if you do let yourself get roped into it and let him explain the basics to you, he'd be excited like a little kid, helping you create your own deck and challenging you to a match to test your newfound skills

he'd go easy on you the first few rounds, but after that, he wouldn't evne hold back for you anymore. He's that serious about the game and the matches he plays

while playing, no matter against you or someone else, he'd try to fit in a few of his jokes

like, let's be real. If you want to be in a relationship with Cyno, you either have to have similiar humor like him to actually find his jokes funny, or you have to at least be able to tolerate them. Because you will never get Cyno without his jokes. It's a package deal

whenever he comes up with new jokes, he always comes to you first and tells them to you. It's gotten to a point where he has so many jokes that he has trouble remembering all of them. At that point, you have gifted him a little notebook for him to write them all down, so he'll be able to remember them. He carries that book with him whereever he goes

when you're not playing TCG with him, Cyno actually really likes to cuddle with you. He wasn't the greatest fan of it at the beginning, but once you've done it a few times, he's got to see how great it can feel

most the time, he's the big spoon, holding you close against his chest, his arms protectively around your body to shield you from the world. Only you and him matter right now, nothing else

but there are also times where Cyno would want the roles to be reveresed, where he takes the role of the little spoon

his job sometimes weighs heavy on Cyno. From time to time, he comes home with a dejected look on his face. He wouldn't be able to tell you about the things that had happened, but he doesn't need to

you understand what he needs just by looking at him. You open your arms wide for him and he falls into you, cuddling up against you. He enjoys the way your arms wrap around him now, the feeling of being shielded and protected. It's not something he usually feels, so he soaks it up like a sponge, basking in it every second it lasts

he's not too big on PDA. The most he'd do in public is hold your hand or place a kiss on your cheek. Everything else happens in private, where no prying eyes are on you two

his kisses are slow, delicate. He likes to enjoy the moment and not rush it thanks to emotions. Would place a hand to your cheek while kissing you. He just likes to touch you whereever he gets the chance to

overall a really great boyfriend if you can live with the fact that he's not present 24/7 due to his job and responsibilities. But he definitely tries his best to always make it up to you. And he appreciates you all the more for understanding and sticking around for him

he really, truly loves you

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact headcanons #genshin headcanons #genshin x reader headcanons #genshin impact x reader headcanons #cyno x reader #cyno x you #genshin impact cyno #cyno headcanons #cyno x reader headcanons #cyno fluff #cyno x reader fluff

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joaofelix70 · 6 months

Text

MISS DIPLOMAT & MR. CHARMING |

dominik szoboszlai x female reader.

author's note: this handsome man's living rent-free in my head. he's a freaking masterpiece. talented, funny, charismatic, attractive. i watched interviews, tiktok videos made by supporters and much more to understand a little bit of his language, personality and what he does towards friends and loved ones. laughed a lot! i made my homework as a writer, hope you enjoy it! (compliments and any kind of retributions are more than welcomed).

summary: your job is involving the commitment of unify the population and create interrelations to another countries, using the eurocup qualifiers and the hungary national team executions. you just didn't expect to fall in love with the no. 10's captain player.

words and characters: 1,811/11,223. it was three days working too hard on this story. i'm begging for your consideration, lol.

────

sports diplomacy: it's the unique power of sport to bring people, nations, and communities closer together via a shared love of physical pursuits. this responsibility is the reason of a transition between strangers to connected individuals, advancing foreign policy goals and augmenting sport for development initiatives. the complex landscape where sport, politics, and diplomacy overlap become clearer, as do the pitfalls of using sport as a tool for overcoming and mediating separation between people, nonstate actors, and states. the power of sport has never been more important. so far, the 21st century has been dominated by disintegration, introspection, and the retreat of the nation-state from the globalization agenda. in such an environment, scholars, students, and practitioners of international relations are beginning to rethink how sport might be used to tackle climate change, gender inequality, and the united nations sustainable development goals, for example. to boost these integrative, positive efforts is to focus on the means as well as the ends, that is, the diplomacy, plural networks, and processes involved in the role sport can play in tackling the monumental traditional and human security challenges of our time. credits: international studies association and oxford university press.

────

MLSZ (hungarian football federation) ──

new training ground at telki.

"i can't believe that being in places like this made up my most theoretically utopian childhood dreams. what a progress in front of me!" you still witness exciting moments where you pinch yourself, trying to believe in the reality that surrounds you: visiting the new training center of the players who are just a few meters away from you, getting ready to represent an entire country.

"your presence is our privilege. a voice of the spread of eurocup to our nation, right here…" the technical director gives you deference, obtaining a measure of humbleness and respect by you.

"the honor belongs to me in its entirety. grateful for having me, sir. while the view is immersive and captivating — my fervent congratulations to everyone involved — could we retreat from the pleasant glass-enclosed room and see everything closer, on the outside? please? i will never get used to this atmosphere." you pour politeness and charisma to the staffs around you, being directed to the proximity of the field and saluting the employees who pass through your path.

meet dominik — your szobo — instigates the nostalgic combination of detailed moments in which your thoughts display as photographic retrospectives. you're incapable to oppose the little enthusiastic laughs, fidgeting the rings between your fingers and avoiding possible suspicious glances from others. however, for you, this wouldn't actually work. the lives of you both are correlated, but different.

the training session is finished. clapping your hands and celebrating the performances, you greet the athletes and recognize some familiar people. nevertheless, reality slows down after those dark woody eyes capture through your soul. his arms tattoos are glorified by the sun's rays, the same illuminated smile is offered to you: that one you got during the very first time you saw him — instantly knowing he made you testimony the accuracy of freedom, catharsis and emotional amorous complement. that he'd be the one to introduce you what you never experienced, what you thought you'd never receive or deserve. what love truly is. when you were novices in your actual professions, not even imagining the future gifts of your unreal purposes.

"there you are!" intimately, dominik points at you, being reciprocated by vibrant nods and your old sort of secret — not that mysterious or serious — handshake. "még mindig emlékszel rá? (still remembering it?). you're a real one!"

"hogy tudnám elfelejteni? alábecsülsz engem. (how could i forget it? you're underestimating me)". your defensive actions demonstrate purposeful falseness. masking any sensitive, verbal or figurative communicative fragment from him is a difficulty that makes you give in over time. honestly, you never complain about this. it's like he wants to understand the factors and layers of you.

"a te kézfogás fickó. ne merészelj lecserélni engem. (your handshake man… don't you dare to replace me)". a shameless wink is send to you, butterflies acquiring space in your stomach.

"és hivatalosan is a szavamat adom rá. (and you officially have my word on it)." your gloss is pigmented against your fingers while you raise it up, displaying an oath, wondering if szoboszlai comprehends that his replacement in your life would be blasphemous.

"diplomata kisasszony, (miss diplomat)…" the hungarian fingerprints are shared and you recognize the sign to hold them, ready to perform your typical fashion icon moment. "gorgeous as always. go ahead! you know what to do!".

amusement surrounds you with the nickname's citation. although, you could feel some curious glances, from the outsiders, about the intimacy between you and him. "i appreciate, our top-class national bless…" you move your body in rotations to exclaim the outfit's characteristics, lifting your feet to show off the specificities of your heels. "how is your hair so well-groomed after sweating, though?" your arms cross and you raise an eyebrow in questioning, trying to hide your fascination.

"thank you, my number-one fan, but don't change the subject. finish our inside joke, c'mon!" dominik grabs his water bottle and spreads the cooling liquid on his forehead, wiping the glowing droplets across his face as he lifted his jersey high enough to exhibits his fortified abs.

your attention is directed to any surrounding scenery, throat being piked. szoboszlai pretends he doesn't notice, preventing to embarrass you.

"alright, alright! you've won, bájos úr… (mr. charming)". your final comment escapes as, practically, a whisper. you can't control the shy laughter, coupled with the considerable redness invading your cheeks.

"that's the secret to make my day!" using his tongue to reproduce a sharp noise, he matches your humorous reactions. "would you like me to show you the infrastructure changes? i'm just gonna take a shower!"

"i've already been granted a tour around here, but in case you insist…" during the dialogue, some athletes cross your space, wishing them good luck for the competition. your concentration on the activity is significant, at the point that dominik's silent admiration goes unnoticed.

"i mean, you know me! i'm gonna insist anyway, so…" he reaches your captivity, bringing you jollification.

"i'll rate you as a personal tour guide. now, go there!" jesting each other, you both exchange exaggerated reverences, like a challenge of who makes the most chaotic one.

────

walking around the area, various subjects are explored, informations entrusted. you ask and are updated about his ethereal younger sister.

portraits of the generations are framed. you magnifies his presence in celebratory pictures, dedicated to find him in the memories and achievements on that wall. pride shines from you and the hungarian finds it lovely.

"you know i'm a sucker for accents… they're much more than mere verbal characteristics, they're stories: life experiences, marks and scars. identities and cultural integrations." the topic is random. through generalized opinions, you're explaining conceptions and dominik is retaining mental observations. he exalts every scrap of your identity, like a faithful worshiper.

"basically, you're admitting being enchanted by my accent. i can see the stars in your eyes. a win is a win!" szoboszlai and his frequent attribute to physical touch, tickling your ears and playing with them. it doesn't bother you, actually: adoring the affection exuded by you and him. you feel like a little girl dealing with your one and only love.

"it's beautiful, how can you blame me? and hey, i know mine's making you grin too." he holds your arm, shivers running down your spine, the two of you being euphoric in the midst of your own enthusiasm.

"putting me against the wall? okay, hum… what were you saying before?" he's changing the subject and you have a natural wit to boo him. lifting his shoulders as a surrender, the hungarian focuses on the specific loose strands of his simple bracelet, which you get used to help him tie it again, willingly.

"trying to avoid the truth? fine! let me take care of you while i talk about my admiration towards globalization and communication. like, with every fiber of me…" you accept the conversation's direction and utter a 'voilà' towards the accessory's new appearance.

"that's why you're the best person i've ever seen doing this job." dominik compliments you, an act full of honesty.

"thanks a lot, mate. but which job? as your bracelet helper or my real one?" you provide tenderness, looking amused.

"i mean… both of them." szoboszlai chuckles, revealing courtesy by your continuous helpfulness.

"literally? because i know you know a lot of people. you're so young and already is the national team's captain." you nudge him in a form of tease. he's a starboy, it's undeniable.

"flattered! literally, thought. you were born for this, believe me." vulnerability collides to you, as his words are deliberated: emotions embracing you and warming your insides.

"dominik szoboszlai, my dear friend, you're gonna make me cry, right here. i'm sorry, i need to do it…"

innocent satisfaction builds strength over you and executes unthought-of approach to the tangibility of your gratitude — his colony enrapturing your sensitive olfaction — in the most out-of-control way. the sounds reach your hearing: a choir of angels singing hallelujah. he reciprocates the contact, laughing at your juvenile excitement. joining him and doing the same thing, harmonizing the triumph. in the separation of the touch, you both remain close to each other and the hungarian doesn't miss the opportunity to feel the softness of your side face, caressing the skin. appreciation and satisfaction invade your structure, delighting on the palm of his hand.

"just a dear friend? why are we pretending all this time?" dominik's reading you. the intimidation at the sight of him overhanging you is paralyzing. you don't usually back down, but in that instant — superior than your most repressed desires — your gasps are escaped.

"who is putting who against the wall now?" insisting and failing on your witty answers, shyness and uncertainty corrodes you.

"please, look at me! i'm not kidding anymore." his voice is questioning, intrigued — contradictorily vulnerable and calm — your rationality being fragmented, fragile.

"you know i'm not the kind of woman you're surrounding by, domi. i'm not an influencer, bikini model. i'm not a public figure. i don't live for the cameras and gossip platforms. i live to work hard. i didn't achieve any of this with some type of perk. my routine and your routine are based on traveling..." who could deny it? szoboszlai's always been all that you see. it's much more than a mere passion. your attraction to him is magnetic, intense, vivid. consequently, terrifying.

"i'm just asking for a chance, (your nickname). i don't lie when i say i've never met someone like you. i may be surrounded by a crowd and you'll still be the one to steal my attention, because nobody compares to you."

your eyelids are closed and the exhalation of his sigh penetrates your lungs with the numbing breath of life you've never experienced before. it's happening: the rare situation where thinking carefully about the pros and cons is unworthy, dumbness. your decision is made and the privilege's resolution unify your lips. the beginning demonstrates slowness and patience — the intensification through the concluded wait of the longed-for reality, transforming light and magical kisses into open mouths discovering each other and witnessing the endearment that both offer — hairs, necks, shoulders and waists captured.

"you're the first to create a meaningful presence in my mind and heart. i want you to be the last one too. i love you, kincs (my treasure). i'm finally brave enough to demonstrate it with no fears." dominik's forearm covers your upper torso. your back against his chest, noses resting on each others. rejoicing at the miraculous, incomparable circumstance.

"i love you, drágám (my precious). you're finally mine and it was so fucking worth waiting." his whisper: the living proof of celestial existence.

"how blessed we are…" intertwined bodies, coalesced essences. solitary melodies turning into the sweetest and most complete symphony.

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grapejuicestyless · 10 months

Text

Just Because You Cannot Have Her.

Conrad Fisher x fem!reader

Summery: You’ve always been in love with the oldest Fisher. Having grown up to be his practical twin, it was almost impossible not to. When he makes it clear he likes someone else, you try to move on. And it almost works.(inspired by that one scene between Laurie and Amy in Little Women!)

Angst to fluff to angst to fluff again(it’s a lot.)

To me, he wasn’t only the sun. He was the moon and the stars. He was the smell of the fresh grass and the sound of the beach. He was all of my favorites things. And to him, I was his best friend.

Conrad and I grew up together. Our mothers all going to college. My mother rooming with Laurel and Susannah, creating the foundation of a new friendship. One that led us to Boston right beside her and the summer long vacations only I would attend during the summer as my moms work grew more demanding. Susannah lived next door to us my whole life. A pretty house on a more quiet road in Massachusetts. The houses mere feet apart. Windows reflecting each other.

Nights were spent the three of us each school year, playing in the garden with sticks as swords and watching cheesy movies before color had reached the big screen. Just me, Jeremiah and Conrad. All year long. All day long.

I still remember the day we figured it out, Conrad and I. How my window was directly facing his. Same floor, same height. How if we tried hard enough, we could communicate late at night and never be apart.

Jeremiah was an important part of our trio, but as they always say, there’s a duo in every trio. That was me and Conrad. It was obvious, the way we sat closer together. My head on his chest and his legs thrown over my lap. How by some force, no matter the scenario, it was always him and me against it. No matter Jeremiah’s efforts, it seemed that he could never quiet catch up. He wasn’t mad by it, he understood even then that what we had was special, but he also had a right to want that. To want that force that constantly seemed to keep Conrad and I intertwined.

And with the knowledge of that force and the closeness of it all, how could I not fall for the boy that was my best friend? My everything. Him with his blonde hair and boyish grin, eyes crinkling and shoulders hunched. He understood my jokes, even when they weren’t that good and yet, he laughed at each one. Because I was the one telling them. We flowed continuously, like a perfect line drawn on a piece of paper.

But I guess that force wasn’t as strong as I believed. Because while it had pulled me to him in every way a person can be pulled, Conrad seemed to have been left behind. Unaffected by it all. Able to fall for everyone else around him while I remained trained to him like a puppy eager to gain his affection.

Belly and Steven were an added part of our group. Each summer they’d travel down to the beach, stay just down the hall from us and enjoy the same games and closeness I was lucky enough to have all year.

Yet, with her youngness, in some way I still got everyone to myself. If it were to be a house party or a late night rendezvous, it was always the three of us and occasionally Steven.

Last summer was different. To me, to her. To everyone. Belly changed. Like the seasons or the tide, Belly lost her braces and ditched the glasses. Hair flowing behind her like a movie scene. A character straight from a love story. I always saw her as beautiful. Always believed she had the looks and personality to make any boy chase her, leaving a trail of drool behind. But now, everyone else could see it too. Conrad could see it too.

And that summer, he spent it stuck to her hip like glue. Leaving me colder and more alone than I’d ever been in my entire life.

I had been forgotten like nothing ever happened between us. Like we hadn’t come up with our own way of conversation through the windows. Like we hadn’t cried over the notebook or sat on the floor playing Barbie’s until our knees hurt and our back were sore. Like we didn’t know the ins and outs of each other. To be thrown to the side like a distraction felt like a punch to the gut. But the affection that Belly gained from Conrad while I lost everything was a bullet, killing me slowly while I bled all over Susannah’s white bed sheets.

Summer came and went. Slower than I wished. But that’s what happens when the world crumbles around you. Losing your best friend, and also the love of your life to the girl you’d happily consider a younger sister. Watching her get the attention I’d always wanted. His lips ghosting over hers and his hands tracing her hips like she was art. All while my hands held themselves and my lips were bitten raw.

The fall wasn’t much better. College was hard. So far away from home, and even farther from Jere and Conrad. I could count down the days until summer. I wouldn’t have Conrad, I accepted that. But I would always have Jeremiah. The boy who was always my younger self. My other best friend who stuck by me as he watched Conrad rip pieces of my heart out each day without any knowledge of what he was doing. He comforted me on the days that I seemed to be nothing more than a distant memory to Conrad. He sat with me both in person and on the phone for hours, catching up and doing the things I had only ever done with Conrad.

I went to NYU, much to everyone’s dismay. I’d sworn on Brown. Going somewhere with Conrad to stay together. Two peas in a pod. He’d looked disappointed at my decision, but he could’ve seen it coming. With him no longer wanting me, it felt wrong to follow him around. To stay stuck to another woman’s boyfriend, if that’s what you could call them.

Conrad and Belly were never exclusive. They never set clear boundaries of their relationship. They flirted and teased. Played around and fought, but they never stuck completely. Deep down, Belly had a crush brewing for Cam Cameron, and anyone who wasn’t an idiot could see the blush spread across her cheeks whenever Jeremiah walked into the room. Conrad, to him it felt like Belly was it. He had no other women around him. He stopped flirting freely at bonfires and rarely went out without her. He was more set on a true relationship. Knowing that is what hurt the most. So, I left. Not wanting to stay in a place I did not feel welcome.

Again, the seasons passed. Changing like the people within it. And finally, within the snow and the rain, I came home to a familiar neighborhood. My luggage in the trunk of an even more familiar red Jeep. The Fishers and I were reunited, almost fully. Susannah slept peacefully in the back seat, head leaned up against the window, pen laid dainty in between her slim fingers adorned with beautiful jewels. Jeremiah was driving, a new smile on his face as the summer sun shined down on us. Meanwhile, I sat passenger side, sock clad feet up on the dash and a pack of gummy worms on my lap. Feeding a few to Jere every couple seconds. It was perfect. An atmosphere that was light and gentle. The only missing piece was my best friend in the whole world, Conrad Fisher.

He had decided to drive up by himself this year, having been away at Brown and getting the chance to head off early. It made perfect sense. But the idea that our annual car rides were no longer existing, ached. I had already lost him in the summer, I could accept that. But to lose him year round? It was a new pain I couldn’t even think about dealing with. So I took it as it was, a perfect excuse.

“You okay?” His voice was smooth, warm. I let my eyes flicker from the side mirror. My face turned to look at the tan skinned boy next to me.

Jeremiah was always beautiful. He had the bluest eyes I’d ever seen. One that reflected the clearest summer day I could wish for. Yet, in the lightness, they also held depth. Sparkling with impulse and enthusiasm. His smile was infectious. Bright white in a way you could only dream it to be in the movies. Something that no one would believe to be a true description until they saw it. He had curly hair that wasn’t quite brunette, but not light enough to be blonde.

I still remembered the day he ran to me crying. He’d always hated his curls. He longed to have the straighter hair that his older brother had. He always looked up to Conrad. In ways so extreme that he wanted to be just like him. Conrad had told him that his sandwich crust made his hair curly. It was funny until it wasn’t. I spent the whole day styling Jeremiah’s hair until it was sticky with hair product and styled in his own way of perfection. He looked almost humorous with his usually wild hair all done up, but handsome none the less. He had really grown into himself through the years, it was hard not to notice him.

The memory made me smile, only the sound of a far out car horn shaking me back to the present.

“Just really excited to be back. College kicked my ass.” My smile was tight lipped, but genuine. Jeremiah returned the look, sighing as he looked out to the road ahead, taking in the familiar scenery.

“Me too.” I caught his eyes quickly flick over to mine, a smile still spread on his cheeks. A blush on mine. He was one of my best friends. My younger self. I shouldn’t have been so flustered to have been caught admiring the boy, but for some reason the heat bubbled up in my stomach anyways. I needed air, a sharp intake of it getting stuck in my throat as I felt a warmth wrap around my hand.

His larger hand laid comfortably in mine, squeezing innocently and shaking it as if to symbolize excitement. Yet, in that moment, the innocent gesture felt more intimate than a pure platonic feeling. Again, the heat rose to my cheeks, and the butterflies made me feel uneasy. But I brushed it off as over tiredness.

When we pulled into the driveway, I noticed all the other cars already parked. We had been the last to arrive, another odd experience as we were always the first.

Quickly, the families raced out the door to greet us. Steven and Belly shoving off each other to race to Jere and I. Belly got to me first, her arms wrapping around my body so hard I stumbled back at her force.

“I’m so glad you’re here! I missed you!” Her words were muffled by my shoulder, head buried into my skin like I’d slip away if she didn’t hold on to me tight.

“I missed you more, Bells. I have no one to watch all these movies with me when I’m away.” I motioned to the bag I had stashed away in the back seat next to were Susannah was once sitting. Belly pulled away in excitement, head peaking over my shoulder to inspect the stack of old discs peaking out from the bag. Her attention back on me as she stepped away.

“Look at you, all grown up.” I held her face between my hands, eyes squinting to fully admire her beauty. She truly changed last summer, having lost her braces and glasses. But somehow, the girl managed to get even more stunning in the passing year, proving to everyone she wasn’t so little anymore. She brushed me off, scoffing playfully before motioning to me.

“Look at me? Look at you! College did wonders!” I shrugged off the complement, not really seeing any changes.

It was true though, I had grown in college. Always a late bloomer, my chest had gone up a size. My wild hair was more tamed and my lips reddened. I changed from that young graduate who was sworn into baggy college shirts and swimsuit bottoms into someone who didn’t truly mind tighter shirts with half sleeves or jean shorts that were slightly scandalous. I had grown into a more confident version of myself while away from the crutches of comfort back home.

Out of the corner of my eye I caught Conrad walking towards us, his eyes avoidant of Belly and glued to me, the first time I truly felt his gaze in almost a full year. He made a B-line to me, smile plastered across his face before Jeremiah intercepted his welcome. I couldn’t help but feel disappointed, even if I had convinced myself all feelings for him were in the past. That I could move on.

I felt Stevens arm loop around my shoulders, “Blah, blah, blah. Y/n, I think you’ve had enough time to catch up. You know what time it is?” She shared a look, my eyes catching Jeremiah’s, his looking to Conrad’s.

“Belly flop!” I was quick to declare, Belly’s eyes widening. She was quick to try to make an escape, but not quiet quick enough.

She ran right into Jeremiah. Him and Conrad restraining her arms while Steven and I latched onto her legs. We rushed over to the pool, excited to toss her in yet another year. She screamed and thrashed, only to be met with the fate of the bottom of the pool.

The water splashed onto our legs, her body submerging underneath. I let myself fall into Jeremiah with an excited laugh. His arms wrapped around my body almost protectively, head tilted down to look at me. It was inviting and all so warm. Summer had officially begun.

The beach house was lively and bustling with people running from room to room. Trying to complete each thing that needed to be done to fully enjoy the summer. Susannah and I seemed to be the only two in place. Even Laurel rushing around to help out.

The kitchens surface was layered in fruits and flour tossed around it. The evidence of the crime scene on our faces. Powder smears across cheeks and a red ring over lining my lips from what could’ve been cherry or strawberry juice.

Susannah had sworn that the dessert she had been planning to make would taste so much better from scratch. She was right, like always. Her baked goods always were, and the small cakes in all various shapes and sizes were just as delicious as promised. Now the only thing left to show was the plate filled with the fresh pastries and the mess to prove we really had made them.

We laughed about it, when stepping back to observe our damage, a hand going to her forehead. Both in humor for the situation and some stress.

“What exploded in here?” We turned on our heals to the voice, laced in shock and amusement. The matching expression belonging to the boy I couldn’t seem to escape all day. Jeremiah.

“We made pastries!” Even my best jazz hands couldn’t hide the fact that everything was everywhere. Not even my best smile could hide the small regret I felt for making it with Susannah.

Sometimes, I believed Jeremiah was a psychic. As I could’ve seen the stress on Susannah’s perfect face, it was like he could simply feel it. With one small flick of his hands, he nodded knowingly, always wanting to be a help.

“Mom, why don’t you relax. I’m sure Y/n and I can handle a little mess.” We exchanged a glance. I nodded frantically, wanting to help out Susannah in every way possible.

“Are you sure?” She sounded more relieved than anything.

“Yes, of course. Now go, watch a movie or read a book. Paint! Why don’t you paint!” I shooed her away, helping Jere get her to settle in for the day.

The room was silent as she left, her presence only known because of what she had left behind. I almost laughed at how messy a grown woman could be, but I wasn’t any better, so who was I to judge?

“You really know how to make an entrance.” Jeremiah mused, eyeing me up and down while lifting the trash can over to the edge of the island top.

“What can I say? I’m an artist.” Picking up some flour from the countertop, I tossed it on his face, holding my hands up in a picture motion, as if I was trying to get the right framing for my work.

“Perfect!” I joked, a playful smirk on Jeremiah’s face.

We were quick in cleaning the kitchen. All appliances already washed and put away as we used them. So all there was to do was to clean whatever didn’t make it into the pans and bowls. It looked just like new, shining like it had before our baking process.

Again, I stepped back to admire our work, only this time, Jeremiah admired it with me. Looking at each other, I felt sure we had done the best job that could’ve been done.

“I think we make a good team. Absolutely spotless.” Looking at me up and down, it became apparent again that even as clean as the kitchen was, I needed to change my shirt.

“Shit.” I pulled the bottom of the material out, inspecting the spots of dust that scattered all over it. Frowning, I flattened it back out, ready to mock myself for a joke.

Jeremiah’s face didn’t change though, still casting that same smile that seemed to always be lazily stretched across his features. His hand found my skin for the second time that day. Only it didn’t wrap around my fingers in an embrace. Instead, he lifted his hand to my face. Thumb pressed to my lips, he smeared away the bottom of my cherry-strawberry ring that was beginning to stain.

Again, the heat rose and I felt almost fluttery at the closeness of it all. The intimacy of his actions.

“I like the red lip thing, by the way. Suits you.” With that he pulled away, thumb brought up between his own and sucking off the juice gathered across the tip.

He walked away like nothing had happened, while I stood there, red in the face and stuck on what had just happened. The boy I had always turned away in hopes that Conrad would chase after me like I had to him, was openly flirting with me. And I didn’t mind it.

Maybe it was the fact that I was lonely without the burning love for Conrad to fill my heart, or maybe it was the new found bond we formed over the last year. Which ever it was, it was leading me straight to my best friends arms, whether I liked it or not.

The sun rose high above the horizon, casting an unbearable heat across Cousins. It was the beginning of July, officially today. Just a week after everyone had piled into their designated vehicles and arrived to their home away from home, the one place we could all be together constantly.

To say that the week had been weird would be an understatement. I had fully prepared to be ignored by Conrad all summer, my heart slowly closing itself off, finally healing from his sour attitude from the previous year and finding it in myself to move on. However, to my surprise, he didn’t. No, within the first twenty four hours, Conrad was banging on my door. Demanding we go early morning surfing. Something we hadn’t done in years.

Conrad first proposed the activity when we turned fourteen. Just old enough to go out unsupervised during the day. At first I had been skeptical, unsure of how great my surfing abilities were in comparison with Conrad’s. At how well I could get back above the water if I were to fall. But Conrad always had a way of convincing me otherwise. Like the angel and devils sat on my shoulder, he could sway me whichever way he wanted. It was a power only Conrad had ever held over me. Something that was not only endearing, but scary. Something I vowed to not allow anyone else to have over me.

It became a tradition for three years straight. Waking up early for at least half of the weekdays to either play around in the water or float for hours. Burning and getting more delirious by the hour. Sharing anything and everything with each other. Something I held close to me, in those years.

By eighteen, Conrad had turned moody, starting what could be summed up as last summer in a nutshell. His ignorance towards my feelings and his inability to care about the ones he did know about ending the tradition by mid July. I used to pray he would knock on my doors to go again, but the knock never came. And as any sensible person would, I stopped pretending like it was possible to happen again.

But maybe I had been wrong, seeing as Conrad was once again, knocking at my door.

The waves had been particularly calm that morning, barely rocking the boards up and down. We decided to just float along the waters that day, the air quiet and calm.

“I missed this.” His voice cut through the silence like a knife. I raised my head from the water, where my hands had been making shapes along the surface.

“So why’d you stop doing it?” The words came out harsher than intended. After all, I was enjoying our time together. I had missed him terribly. After all, while having a younger me around was soothing, having your other half was so much more fulfilling in some ways.

I guess it was the pent up frustrations I hadn’t known I had until that moment. The anger that was caused by the fact that Conrad had me. He had me in the palm of his hands and deep down he knew he did. He knew I would go wherever he went. The poor idiot unable to see his disinterest in me. He had walked out, and I had let him back in. Just like every fight ever, he would come back begging and I would crumble immediately.

I decided then I could be his friend, I always would. It was something that was irreversible. I would let him back into my heart as my best friend, but it ended there. I refused to let him back in romantically. Something that was strange to know. Something I never dreamed of happening.

Sure the feelings were still there, I believed they always would be, but I would no longer act on them. And hopefully I could learn to love another.

Conrad fell quiet again after that. Not knowing what to say. Anything, everything fell short.

“I’m sorry, Y/n/n. I’ve been such an asshole to you. I was just, scared of everything and not where I should’ve been last summer. I shouldn’t have taken out my issues on you. I shouldn’t have ignored you. If I could take it all back I would. I miss my other half.” It was genuine, each word out of his mouth. My heart beat faster with the idea that Conrad had phrased it, “other half” instead of, “best friend” because he held some sort of feelings for me. But my logical half shut that idea down as quick as it happened, and nothing came of it.

In the evening, I had been playing volleyball in the pool with Belly. Having been a retired varsity player, it was always fun to get competitive with her. Diving into the water and scraping our feet on the bottom of the pool. It was messy but fun.

With it being played just us for awhile, Belly jumped at the idea to have Jeremiah and Steven join us. The pair having walked outside unaware to the intense battle going on in their swim trunks, they were quickly recruited to our teams.

The usual teams were me and Steven, our competitive nature making us a powerhouse against the usual Belly and Jeremiah. Who were just as good but lacked the same fire. Without hesitation, they jumped into the water, calling dibs on their teams.

“Alright I call y/n!” Jere was quick, his sprint slowed to a hop in the waist deep water, arms wrapped around my frame in a tight hug.

Belly scoffed.

“What’s wrong with being on my team?” She demanded to know, her tone dripping with playfulness.

Jeremiah rolled his eyes.

“No offense, Bells. But I want to win for once.” She stuck her tongue out sourly, Steven shooting me daggers, ready to destroy us.

While Jeremiah’s excuse was reasonable, his lingering touches and constant banter with me made it more apparent he had other reasons to be on my team. The way his hands held onto the ball just a moment longer when handing the ball to me to serve over the net, just to brush against my fingers or the way his body was never too far from mine. It was all so flirtatious, the familiar fluttery feeling returning.

In the end, we had won, much to Stevens dismay. It was a close game, but ultimately he had lost control of the ball, causing a hard loss for Belly. The pair fought innocently while we relished in our newly earned bragging rights. Jeremiah’s arms wrapped around me again, only to lift me from the water and spin us around to celebrate. All the new closeness was unusual, but for some reason, again I found myself unable to push it away. And the more he did it, the more I wanted him to keep flirting with me.

Maybe it was the attention, something I had always wanted, or maybe it was something new blossoming between us. But it was good and it was sweet. Something I hadn’t known before.

By the end of the week it seemed my days were split into fractions. My mornings taken up my Conrad, our bodies laid along the beach and our cheeks red with the sun. Muffins runs long and hilarious each time we drove off to collect a batch together. Conrad insisting Steven wouldn’t mind if he ate the last blueberry one and being wrong each time, resulting in the scramble to get more. In the afternoons I found myself devoted to Jeremiah. All his activities he wanted to do, he had somehow managed to rope me into doing with him. Whether it be running or swimming. Painting or just talking, I was there beside him. My eyes stuck to his like glue. And by the time night fell, I would be happily tucked under a blanket, Susannah and Laurel on one side and Belly squishing against my other as we watched the sappiest movies we could find and played the longest board games in the closet. Summer felt like summer again, and my heart was finally mending.

In my healing, it was like I had lost sight of the cause of the heartbreak. My head too stuck in the clouds that was the regaining of Conrad’s company and Jeremiah’s unrelenting interest in me to remember why the healing was necessary.

It seemed to have been over, this summer. The way Conrad avoided her more than usual. The way that the only times they were really together was when we were all in each other’s presence. But I would never really know as I am not them.

It was stupid to get so upset so late into the summer. Over something I should’ve seen coming. Something that had already came, just wasn’t as apparent. The moon was high and the moms were already settled in for the movie night. The blanket pulled up to their chins and popcorn buttery and still steaming.

Laurel had asked if I could go find Belly, not wanting to start without the person who adored these nights the most. Without thinking, I agreed. Why wouldn’t I? She was my little sister, in some ways. Someone who I refused to do the tradition without.

But god, I wish I hadn’t. I could’ve spared myself the heartbreak.

Conrad had Belly in his arms. Holding her loosely, letting her drift off without a care. All while his lips were on top of hers. Pressing into them with such force, such desire it made me sick. I had sworn to not let him back into my heart in that way, and I hadn’t. But the old feeling would always be there, and it would hurt each time he broke my heart like it was the first.

I wasn’t interested in the movie anymore. Yelling out some lazy excuse as to why I was going off to the beach to watch the stars instead of the movie. The mothers not giving it a second thought.

It was a mess, both mentally and physically. My brain scrambled in my emotions and my room reflecting it. My bathing suit was still damp, fitting perfect across my body even in the slight discomfort it gave me. The shirt I threw on over it wasn’t my own. The words, “Boston MA” spread across the chest. It hung at my thighs and it smelled fresh.

In moments like this I used to purposefully put on Conrad’s shirts I’d stolen over the years. The lingering scent of his cologne and the memories we held of him wearing them comforting enough. But in this moment, I wanted nothing more than to be as far away from his as possible.

I’m not sure who’s sandals I stole at the door were, but I hoped they didn’t need them anytime soon. Because I didn’t plan on coming back until the house was quiet and asleep.

The beach was my sanctuary. Peaceful, stranded at an hour like this. In any other place it would’ve been almost eerie, but I felt safe in Cousins. I knew nothing could hurt me here, and that in itself gave me peace.

The stars were brighter than usual tonight, sparkling on the surface of the very water I had laid across just hours before with Conrad. Confessing each dirty secret from college and laughing about our past. It felt more lonely now, then ever.

Even when Conrad and I were drifted, I felt more together than now. The wound reopened and bleeding.

The sand shuffled beside me, but my head was set on looking up. Unmoving.

“The stars are gorgeous tonight, huh?” The question was meant to be left unanswered. Only an attempt to get me to see that he was there, beside me now so I wouldn’t become startled by his presence later on. Still, I nodded. Eyes peeling from the sky to his.

They were just as bright and lively. Just as beautiful.

“Why’d you follow me? You my stalker now?” I tried to be funny, tried to joke. But my mouth was stuck in that almost permanent frown. I should’ve known he could sense my sensitivity, he always could. That’s probably what had drawn him out here in the first place. Always so attentive.

Still, to pity me, he laughed. It was quiet but it was there. Enough to make the corner of my mouth twitch upward. We fell into another silence. My eyes glossy.

“What’s going on in that mind of yours, y/n/n. Tell me.” His hand reached out to push at my shoulder, gaining my attention again, pulling it away from the sky.

I blinked away the tears, swallowing the lump in my throat. I shrugged.

“Honestly, I’m not really sure.” Closing my mouth, I licked along the top line of my teeth. Sucking in my lips, I let them pop to take in a sharp breath. All while Jeremiah sat there patiently, ready to listen. Always there.

“I guess it’s just, everything. I mean-“ I looked for the right words to say, not wanting to stumble or say something I didn’t mean.

“I feel like I’m just being overly emotional. Everyone’s trying so hard to mend relationships and I feel like I keep finding reasons to run away again. I mean, I’ve been horrible to Conrad the past year. And for what? Because I couldn’t control myself? I haven’t seen Steven in awhile and I don’t even know how Laurel is holding up. I’ve just…I don’t know why I feel like this.” Everything was building into a massive guilt, my head facing the ground. Ashamed at my own feelings. Jeremiah didn’t judge, he didn’t push for more. He let me say what I needed to say, and he supported it. He was good to me.

“Hey, hey.” He was quick, seeing how I was breaking down rapidly. Under the stress of now not only the heartbreak I was suffering, but the guilt that came with the buried desire for Conrad to leave her to be with me. It snowballed into one big vomit of grief that wasn’t discovered until that moment.

“I’m sorry.” I wiped my eyes, breathing into a weak chuckle. I tried to lighten the whole situation, knowing that he was already dealing with so much. I felt worse putting it onto his shoulders. I couldn’t. So I avoided it. Changed the subject.

“Shit, Jere. I shouldn’t have brought you into it.” I looked at him, his eyes already trained on mine, his eyebrows knit together.

“Don’t be. I’ll always be there for you, Y/n. Promise.” His hands found mine in the dark, the sand getting stuck between the creases on our palms. They laid intertwined in the sand. The third time it had happened this summer. Somehow, even at my worst, he always found a way to break down the walls I was putting up.

My eyes flickered to his lips for only a moment, but the look on his face told me he was thinking about it too and the tension was palpable. Too lost in thought to lean in, Jeremiah closed the gap.

His lips slotted against mine perfectly. Molding together like they were one, pressing together hard. It was slow, but lustful. The knowledge that we both wanted more behind it, but the accompanying knowledge that it wouldn’t go beyond that kiss tonight was also there, creating a sort of comfort in the feeling.

Hands were soon tangled in each others hair, his curls ruined and messy from my constant tugging and messing with them. Groans escaping his mouth every so often when a tug was harder than usual. His hands finding the back of my neck to hold me close, our breathing heavy and the heat unbearable as it radiated between us. Everything was lustful and needy, slow and hot. Neither of us in a rush to end what was happening, everything feeling overwhelmingly good.

When we finally did pull away it was with a pop, lips swollen and reddened from a mixture of irritation and the small marks Jere had left littered across the bottom of mine with his tugging and gentle nips every so often. Eyes were heavy with desire and bodies unwilling to let go. It was like everything fell into place, like everything made sense. With Jeremiah so close, someone who cared for me, someone who constantly showed up, the heartache was almost nonexistent, and it felt like I was being pulled in a new direction. One that led me straight into the arms of the younger Fisher.

The kiss between Jeremiah and I should’ve stayed at that, a kiss. Realistically, I shouldn’t have done it at all. Knowing that even if I tried to stop it or refused to acknowledge it, my heart would always beat for Conrad. No matter how much of an asshole he had been to me. And that was the sad part, because his brother was so much kinder and better to me these past few years.

Maybe that’s why I agreed when it kept going. Why I allowed us to keep progressing into something more. Because even if my heart belonged to Conrad, Jeremiah was better for me, right?

That summer became last year, June coming up around the corner and still, physically I was Jeremiah’s.

Over our year together I had grown to love his curls, or the way he was so quick to visit me the second my voice faltered, despite his own troubles. How we had shared clothes and his touch was enough to send butterflies through my veins.

He was everything, someone I could grow to love as much as I did for Conrad. Someone that I could rely on. Someone who made my heart beat just a little bit faster.

If I had claimed that last summer was off, this one was tripled that.

What had started off semi normal in June, Conrad’s closeness in a strict platonic sense and Jeremiah’s closeness in a way that could be no where near a platonic level became more and more confusing as the weeks passed.

For the past two years of my life, I believed that one day the news would break that Conrad and Belly had finally found their place. Their title, their boundaries and make it exclusive. I believed that in her arriving with a new found beauty, I had lost the battle for him. I had come second to Belly in his eyes and would continue to forever if it meant he could be with her. But that never happened. The day never came.

And soon the lines became even more blurred. Conrad’s touches growing longer and closer. My body being pressed to his more often than not. His lips by my ear to whisper some secret, some dirty some innocent. His eyes staring just a second too long. It was almost flirtatious. But the minute Belly walked into the room, I was reminded that we could never be. And we would never be.

It wasn’t until the middle of August that I knew why the lines had seemingly disappeared. Belly and Conrad had stopped their messy make outs, both not getting what the other wanted, even if it had seemed like the pair was so enthralled by each other. And she had moved onto the boy she had been chasing for years. Cam Cameron. The boy who adored whales and had a heart of gold. His hair curlier than Jeres and eyes deeper than Conrad’s. It seemed that to her, she had finally found the person she needed around. And Conrad? He had nothing. Not even the girl he called his best friend to chase after him anymore. For she was with his brother now.

Still, the flirting was relentless. My mornings spent dedicated to Conrad, holding his hand as we attempted not to drift too far out in the calmness of the early ocean. His laugh warm and inviting. Something that reminded me why I enjoyed him so much. Even in his darkest moments, the ones where I was left to feel alone, he was always there to help me back up in the end. Mending his losses and fixing what was broke. He understood his issues, finding his own responsibility in situations that weren’t only his own cause. He was kind, he cared. He didn’t show it like Jeremiah did, but he had so much of it, it was just harder to see. He did everything for everyone.

My nights were for his brother. Jeremiah and I sprawled out on the grass, pointing at the stars, laughing about the stupidest things. I think back on why I like him so much. How easy it is to just be with him. How he never fights or lies or hurts. He’s there and accepts his faults, much like his brother. He is not ashamed like his brother. Not ashamed of his faults, he carries less guilt about the past, only worried about what he can do to fix it and continue on. And it is all so confusing because it feels impossible to long for two people at once. It feels selfish but it’s almost exactly what I want in that moment.

So the routine became something that I stuck to. Hiding away with Conrad in the sunlight to do our favorite things and holding onto Jeremiah throughout the night. The bed full, warm.

Somewhere in this thread, there was a bump. A miscommunication that led to Jeremiah wandering off to a party without me. One that I didn’t mind as it gave me a chance to clear my mind. Catch my breath on the situation. To do it in the one place I knew.

The concrete beneath my feet turned to sand, the softened surface relaxing as I tread across it. In the darkness I almost miss the hunched over figure in my spot. Red hoodie and messy hair unmissable. Easily identifiable even from the back, even with only an outline. An outline I had grown to recognize as Conrad’s.

I should’ve felt disappointed at the fact I wasn’t alone like I had planned to be, but I wasn’t. The idea that I would be with the one person I trusted more than life for a few hours wasn’t unsettling at all. It made it all more peaceful.

My legs folded underneath me, legs stretching out in front of me, I leaned back on my hands.

Looking up at Conrad I almost got a sort of deja vu from a similar conversation I was having just short of a year ago.

“What brings you down here this late?” I drew shapes in the sand, eyes drawn to his. He looked up to the sky, then back to me.

“I could ask you the same.” I smiled, only after realizing he had cracked one of his own.

“Clearing my mind.” I breathed out, relaxed fully next to him. I allowed myself to look at the stars with him.

“What are you think about?” I could hear his smile, something that made me feel warm. Something that made me want to express how I felt for him finally, but also urged me to put my strongest walls up.

The waves crashed against the shore and the crickets filled the silence. My teeth caught between my lip and my heart besting out of my chest, I felt dizzy in confusion. Where my heart lied.

“I think I might tell Jeremiah I love him.” I almost whispered it, like I was unsure.

The thought hadn’t crossed my mind before. I always knew my heart held something for Jeremiah. I always liked him. But not once did the idea of confessing my love for him cross my mind. Maybe it was because Conrad was close. He always had a way to make me confess my truest feelings. Maybe it was that, him helping me realize what I felt for his younger brother. Yet, in the back of my mind I couldn’t help but feel that the idea only came to mind in spite of Conrad, who had pushed me aside so many months ago. Who was now longing for my attention. And that alone made me feel sick. Sick that I would play with someone I adored so much at the expense of another, just to retaliate against old issues.

I expected a fake support from him. At least some sort of statement to encourage me to go for it. Something that I could try to believe was real and finally be able to let go of my twisted crush for him. One that I had held since I knew what love could be.

But his face fell flat, eyes looking almost coldly into the sky. His voice was dryer now, serious with each word he spoke.

“Don’t tell him.” I froze, confused but also bubbling with a mixture of frustration and sadness at his carelessness with such a heavy statement.

“What?” I tried to search his unmoving eyes.

“Don’t tell him.” He repeated, looking to me now.

“Why?” Looking at him, I saw the sun and the stars and moon, all lighting up the night sky. I saw the world in a way that made me want to put it in the palm of his hands. I saw something I’d never seen in his eyes before. A look I was only familiar with because it was a reflection of my own.

“Why?” He repeated me again, “You know why.”

My heart dropped. I had dreamt of this moment for years. Conrad running to me, asking me to take his hand. To be with him, but now, it felt almost sickening. Cruel for him to be doing this to me. Now, he had to do it. After his life fell apart and just as mine was coming together he had to do it.

I used my hands to slowly get up, Conrad mirroring my movements.

“No…no.” I repeated, trying to make my answer any more true.

“Yes.” His hand reached out to touch my cheek, but my hand was quick to push it away.

“No, Conrad.” I backed away more, letting him inch closer.

“What?” He asked, acting clueless to how he was ripping me apart all over again.

“You’re being mean, stop it. Stop it.”

“What? How am I being mean?” He almost sound amused at it, at how distressed I felt. All I could do was try to hold myself together for just a little longer.

“I have been second to Belly these past few years in everything. And I will not be the person you settle for just because you cannot have her.” My words held more truth than anything I had ever said in my life. The honest truth of how I felt these past few years, even if he never saw it.

“I won’t-I won’t do it.” I shook my head, his face broken and his eyebrows drawn together.

I wiped my brow, turning away briefly while my lip trembled. Slowly crumbling under the bubbling hot emotion coming up my throat, expanding into a lump.

“I won’t-not when I have spent my entire life loving you.” I wanted to point, stuck my finger right in his chest but my hands were glued to my sides, unwilling to touch him. With his silence as my returning answer, I took the chance to turn on the balls of my feet, walking off to the house in a new kind of distress than before.

I prayed that Jeremiah was still away, that I wouldn’t have to face him so soon but my prayers were left unanswered, a familiar frame sat over the kitchen island. His eyes drawn to his phone.

He smiled up at me as soon as he noticed I was in the room, everything about him so innocent and kind. Something I could never take advantage of. Something I could deprive someone else more deserving of it from.

His sweet smile soon turned into a mixed expression of pain and confusion. His feet carrying him across the room to me. I couldn’t help it. I couldn’t help but to put my arms out in front of me to create a distance. To relay it to him even when my mouth wouldn’t work that I could not be in his touch right now.

I shook my head before he could even speak, eyes opening, covered in a heavy gloss.

“What’s wrong?” He was almost frantic in the way he said it, wanting to provide comfort without knowing how.

“I-I can’t. I can’t do this, Jere. I can’t do this.” I kept repeating it like it would get any clearer.

“I can’t love you. And it physically hurts me to say it out loud because, because I should. You’re everything I could ever want but I just can’t and I don’t know why. And it’s wrong, and I’m sorry but I can’t keep doing this.” His face almost drained, attempting to salvage what I was so quick to let go of. But it all made sense.

It was foolish for him to believe that he could make me love him, when my heart so obviously still beat for Conrad. So he let me go just as he always does, without a fight. Letting there be peace in our divide.

The next few nights were unforgiving. The sheets a mess and my eyes tired. I couldn’t sleep knowing I had ruined everything in my eyes. What was something good I had to go and end because of my inability to let him go. Something I am unsure I will ever be able to do. Not when I’ve spent so much time bending to fit him.

Soon, summer would be over officially, even if to me it had ended that night. It was the last morning of August, the last day spent down in Cousins before we’d all pack our things into the car and count down the days until next June.

The sun had barely risen above the horizon when I woke. A familiar pattern. Not being able to sleep more than a few hours, the mess of everything keeping me awake.

It was mornings like these I wandered down to the beach, sitting myself in the same spot I had the night everything crashed down. It was all too peaceful for what had happened here, the only place I truly felt secure now. I couldn’t help but cry, looking out. Remembering everything that had happened, kissing those who were just a few feet away.

“Y/n!” His voice called out to me, like he knew I had woken up. He knew where I would be. And it was sweet but sickening.

“Why did you do it?” My voice broke, the question left unanswered. I heard his footsteps stop.

“Why now did you have to tell me? Why is it when I’m finally picking myself up you had to fuck with me. Why?” I all but sobbed, tears streaming freely.

Over my sniffles and pleas, I missed the sound of him moving again, his body finding a home in the sand next to mine. His voice quiet. He thought about it, hard. Trying to form some sort of confession that could sum up what he felt.

“Because if you said it, that meant he won. I would have finally lost you.” He looked at me truthfully, eye own eyes squinting in confusion, heart still aching.

“What?” I breathed out.

“I have spent every waking minute of my life so fucking in love with you, it physically hurt me to not be able to confess it. I was always too scared, seeing how perfect you looked with everyone else. I felt like I was dragging you down. Like I wasn’t enough. So, I found comfort in other people. People who were okay with me using them to forget. Because forgetting is better than living with the fact that my brother was with the only person I have ever loved.” My eyes searched his, his eyes glossy just like mine. His voice breaking and desperate. Wanting me, needing me to believe him.

“I love you too.” The smallest smile broke out across his face, one of relief and comfort in my words. I could sense the hesitation in his actions, and just as Jeremiah had to me, I closed the gap between us. Allowing my lips to press against his with desperation yet so much love. A kiss that had been coming for years. Building without either of us aware of its existence. It wasn’t long and lustful like Jere’s was. It was sweet and short. Just long enough to get across its impact. Just enough to take our breathes away.

His forehead rested on mine, his hands on mine and his eyes looking into mine. Breathing me in, letting us just be close for a moment, letting us just be there. Existing. And it was all so calming.

I always imagined this summer ending with Jeremiah and I celebrating our one year. His arms wrapped around me as we parted ways. I never could have imagined myself on the same beach it all started, the lips against mine not his, but his brothers. An old love becoming a new love. The beginning.

#conrad fisher #conrad x reader #conrad fisher angst #tsitp jeremiah #jeremiah fisher #jeremiah x reader

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schrodinger-swriter · 3 months

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Could you possibly write A, B, E, and H for Lucifer?

A, B, E, and H for Lucifer

I wish to apologize in advance if this one is a little... off... I'm currently on episode 3 of my rewatch of Hazbin Hotel, and between my first watch and reading his wiki.. I still find it hard to grasp Lucifer's personality. If this is out of character, I will gladly take the L

Regardless, I hope you enjoy!

ATTRACTION:

I think he would love someone creative. He himself spends his days creating (the rubber ducks) and experimenting with looks and the like. Perhaps he would like a like minded individual that feels comfortable pushing back against authority, willing to question the way things are and look at the world through a new lens. Personal choice, for lack of a better term, matters to him. It's why he is where he is now. Even if he disapproves of most sinners, I think at least a few are capable of worming themselves into his core.

BONDING:

I enjoy the though of talking to you while he works on something, still offering you his attention while his hands work away at his latest project. However, I do think that he would try to have one on one time with you. No distractions... I think this is more likely after he talks to Charlie and gets on board with her plan to redeem sinners... though that may be wishful thinking, with enjoying the idea of Lucifer trying to be present in his loved ones lives. Of course, this will take time, but it's a start..

EMOTION:

This is another tough one... I can see him emotionally pulling away, but I can also see him banding with you when things get tough. It's hard to say, it heavily relies on what's happening and how invested you are in the relationship. He wants to love with you with his whole being, but much like with Lilith, he will very well fall into his depression if things get tough.. lord forbid it leads to you two separating. He doesn't want to repeat the mistakes, but since I'm currently unsure of why he and Lilith separated I can say for sure where he's going to overcompensate.. Interesting one, might revisit this when I have the time to deep dive on his character.

HARSH:

Another interesting one, I think misunderstandings are more likely than full blown arguments. Touching on the above segment, he might try to work through the problem and find a solution, out of fear that it might tear apart this relationship. Though this is usually after giving you both ample time to cool down and become ready to face one another again. Typically, he's usually the one who's ready to smooth things over first, through communicating and trying to plan something for the two of you as a means to take a step forward.

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin x reader #hazbin imagine #hazbin hotel imagine #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer morningstar x you #lucifer morningstar imagine #lucifer x reader #lucifer x you #lucifer imagine

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cyberfreaky · 11 months

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CELLOPHANE ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ PART I

༘⋆ PAIRING — olo’eyktan!jake x fem!reader

༘⋆ SUMMARY — in which your taboo infatuation with your olo’eyktan begins to cause problems.

༘⋆ WARNINGS — age gap (32 & 22), mentions of daddy issues, power imbalance, no comfort angst, infidelity, mild violence, alcohol usage, arguing, eventual smut.

༘⋆ NOTES — my first proper series PURRRR i hope y’all enjoy this. updates may be slow since i start back at school soon, but i’ll make time xx this parts kinda boring but i jus wanted to try show the dynamic reader & jake share ??$2&:@/$

MASTERLIST + CELLOPHANE MASTERLIST

the communal fire burnt brightly, everyone sat around while consuming their supper. you didn’t have much of an appetite, resorting to you sitting in your lonesome and quietly watching your clan with bored eyes. the sounds of chattering and laughter buzzed in your ears, everyone speaking happily amongst themselves about today’s successful mission. your mind was elsewhere — in your own little fantasy you’d created with a certain someone. to the average person, this would seem rather pathetic. but you were wilfully blind.

“not hungry?”

you were swiftly brought out of your thoughts, glancing over your shoulder and noticing your olo’eyktan taking a seat besides you. there was an instant burst of joy that coursed through you - a coy smile painting your face as you shook your head in response. “no, sir. my tummy feels funny.”

“y’know you don’t have to keep calling me sir, right?” jake chuckled at your timid response, giving your side a playful nudge. “just call me jake. sir makes me feel old.”

“sorry. jake.” you apologise quietly, anxiously scratching your forearm.

this nightly ritual of jake visiting you throughout supper had become one of your favourite moments of the day. you were so helplessly smitten with him - your closest friends would joke that it neared an obsession at this point. it was your deepest secret, what was once an innocent crush had blossomed into something forbidden. you were hopelessly in love with your olo'eyktan - and it pained you everyday knowing nothing could ever come of it.

you felt jake's hand rest on your knee, a playful expression on his face. "where do 'ya disappear to in that head of yours?" he smiled warmly, clearly taking notice of how your trance-like state. you brushed it off with a coy smile, shrugging timidly at the question. jake's hand placement was innocent, especially the gentle pats he gave assuringly. "you got a stomach bug or somethin'? could explain the loss of appetite."

"no, it's not that. i'm just a little sad." you admit honestly, a small sigh escaping your lips as you glanced down at the ground.

jake’s face fell at your words. he shifted a little closer, his hand still placed on your bent knee. “what’s wrong?” he asks with a concerned tone, you could hear how genuinely worried he was. jake cared about you - just as he cared for anyone in the clan. but you never saw the blurred line between the two.

you couldn’t admit what you were feeling. there was no chance in hell that you’d ever tell jake what was going through your head. how do you possibly tell your leader that you never stop thinking of him? that his friendly gestures and innocent touches felt like ecstasy to you? that you envied his mate with your entire being? these weren’t regular thoughts. these weren’t normal feelings. even in your own delusional little bubble — you could recognise that these emotions were taboo.

“you can talk to me, kid. y’know that.” jake assured once again, using that bastardly nickname you loathed. kid. was that all he saw you as? you were a grown woman, not some sad pouting child with a tummy ache.

you sighed deeply, trying to form some kind of lie in your head as you gazed at jake. “i’m, uh…i’m not feeling confident with my skills. that’s it. i don’t..um, i still can’t shoot properly.” you try to sound as genuine as possible - hoping that your sullen expression could convince him even further. it was a ridiculous lie, but nothing else came to mind. your aim was impeccable.

jake nodded slowly, his lips soon curling into a small smile. "how about this? tomorrow morning, i'll take ‘ya out for some practice."

you couldn't contain the grin that grew on your face. your little white lie had lead to something even better — alone time with jake. you nodded eagerly at his offer, trying your hardest to suppress the overwhelming excitement you were feeling. "really? you'd do that?"

“course i would, anything to help.” jake says with a warm smile, giving your knee one last squeeze before retracting his hand away. “i’ll swing by your hut after the morning hunt and we’ll go from there. sound good?”

“that sounds amazing. thank you, si-” you pause for a moment, correcting yourself quickly before calling him sir. “jake. thank you, jake.”

jake chuckled in response, giving you a friendly wink before climbing to his feet and bidding you farewell. your eyes followed him as he walked back to his mate, jealously watching him plant a kiss on her cheek. you shook your head, taking a deep breath before remembering that you had tomorrow to be excited for. ‘it’s fine, it’s all fine.’ you’d repeat in your head, appeasing the envious feelings that began to bubble up inside you.

the idea of spending hours alone with jake kept you calm and collected. a giddy smile formed on your lips as your thumb grazed the skin of your knee — already missing jake’s comforting touch against you.

that night in your hut was restless, you couldn’t contain the excitement of seeing jake in the morning. you held your pillow to your chest, sighing in pure ecstasy at the mere thought of spending hours on end with him. it was an incomparable feeling, another chapter to file in your delusional bliss.

“that’s it. arms straight, no slouchin’. you gotta keep your posture nice and tight.”

jake instructed you from the side, speaking with a stern yet calm tone. you already knew this, this information had been drilled in your head since your were a child. but were more than willing to act a little oblivious for the sake of some alone time with your olo’eyktan.

you followed his instructions, straightening your dominant arm as you firmly held the heavy bow in your hand. you gingerly glanced over your shoulder at jake, purposely hunching your back a little. your eyes quickly darted to the target painted on the distant tree — eagerly awaiting for jake’s reaction to your form.

“c’mon, you can’t shoot an arrow with sloppy posture.” jake says disapprovingly.

you felt him stand directly behind you, one callous hand pressing on your tummy while the other rested on your lower back. a gentle gasp escaped your lips, quiet enough for only you to hear. you held yourself back from keening into his touch, carefully keeping the inch long distance from his body.

“stand straight, hon. ‘ya can’t hunch when shooting, it’ll mess up your aim.” jake whispers solemnly, adjusting your posture with gentle movements. as he straightened your back, you felt him lean in closer to smooth his hands across your shoulders encouragingly. “now, when yr’ready, take your shot.”

you took a deep breath, ignoring the shiver than ran down your spine as you expertly released the string of the bow. bullseye. the arrow roughly pierced the red dot on the tree, perfectly centred and all. a wave of pride engulfed you as you lowered the bow, looking over your shoulder to gauge jake’s reaction.

his eyes were wide, proudly laughing as he suddenly engulfed you from behind. “holy shit!” jake cheered loudly, rocking your body back and forth as he celebrated your shot. you giggled quietly, allowing yourself to lean back against his embrace for a moment. you were caged in his muscular arms as jake continued to praise your aim, almost in disbelief at how incredible it was.

you were in a state of pure euphoria as jake gleefully clung onto you. while this wasn’t the first time he’d hugged you - this was certainly the most endearing. you nearly melted at his constant praises, immediately feeling a warmth fill your cheek as you flushed insanely. you could get used to this feeling.

he spun your around swiftly, gripping your shoulders tightly as he shook you playfully. “how the hell did ‘ya do that? you’re a natural!”

“it wasn’t that great.” you mutter nervously, glancing up at jake with a flustered expression.

“you kiddin’ me? that was incredible.” jake lauded, that signature smile of his making you grin in return. “god, yr’something else, eh?”

your face was flushed as you stare up at jake, unsure of how else to respond to his words. he seemed to take notice of the tinge of mauve on your cheeks, mistaking it for some sort of heat exhaustion. “you feeling hot?” jake pressed his palm against your forehead, the back of his hand soon checking the temperature of your cheek. “let’s go get you cooled off. you’re burning up, kid.”

these small revelations always pained you. no matter how much you proved yourself to jake, he’d always see you as a bashful, little girl. you couldn’t even enjoy the walk back to camp as he kept his arm snaked around your shoulder — you knew it was all for the sake of protecting you. caring for you. and not in the way you wanted him to.

there had to be some way to show jake you were more than some injured lamb. and even if it meant risking your relationship with him entirely — it would be a leap worth taking. you refused to live with the heavy burden of your feelings anymore.

TAGLIST (i’m tagging those who asked on the masterlist post! if you want to be added, lmk eee)

@wh0rezs @neteyamsb1tch @touchedflowers @rosesinthemoonlightxx @sadredflower0000

#jake sully #jake sully smut #jake sully x reader #jake sully x reader smut #jake sully x you #jake sully fanfic #jake sully fanfiction #jake sully headcanon #jake sully headcanons #dilf jake sully #avatar #avatar 2009 #avatar the way of water #atwow #avatar twow #avatar x you #avatar x reader #avatar smut #cellophane series <3

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dross-the-fish · 4 months

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Henry Jekyll thoughts and headcanons: I imagine that Henry isn't actually as well liked or trusted by his community as it might initially seem. He has his old school friends Utterson and Lanyon and he's certainly respected, there's nothing explicitly objectionable about him but no one ever gravitates towards him like they do Utterson. Henry is not widely beloved because he's only ever superficially pleasant and polite. He never lets anyone in who's not already part of his circle and even with Utterson and Lanyon they have to just accept that Henry will never 100% be open with them about who he is and what he does/enjoys. No matter how much Henry tries to cover it there's something shifty and secretive about him, always has been, even as a youngster and while he can pull off being charming and approachable it's an effort and he can only keep it up for so long before he starts to look tired or get snappish. He has an excellent bedside manner but there's a notable lack of warmth. He's charming and genteel but nothing else, no one he meets ever learns anything about him as a person or his hobbies or his likes and interests because he doesn't share them with anyone outside of his close knit circle.

He's a master at directing conversation and if it seems like someone is prying too much into his personal life or, heaven forbid, trying to actually get to know him he'll brush it off and then ask them to talk more about themselves because he'll make it seem like he finds them just so very interesting! (He doesn't, he hates them, he is seething and waiting for them to shut up so he can go home). Henry knows that there's nothing under that polite facade, just vices, spite and bitterness. In a way, when he created Hyde, I headcanon that he was hoping that if he could indulge himself under that face that he could make Henry Jekyll real. That maybe if he had an outlet the good, pleasant, charming person he wanted to be would become a genuine part of himself. But it didn't. The hardest part about being Edward Hyde is that it changed everything and it also changed nothing at all. Henry is Edward, he's been Edward all his life and he knows that even if he could stop the transformations he'd still be Edward. If he never killed again he'd still be Edward and Edward is who he's been hiding from the world for his entire life.

#Henry Jekyll #Jekyll and Hyde

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cursedartistnelari · 2 years

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DID YOU SEE THE MOVIE??? IT WAS BEAUTIFUL

The best 120 minutes of my life were there

I know I haven't posted anything in a while, but the university has seriously been ruining me. To be honest, I still haven't been able to make much progress on the next chapter, but as a reward, I decided to give you the context of my story. So today I come to explain what the hell is going on here :)))

(without spoilers)

The drawings are not in order. I actually didn't finish all the pictures but suck it. Take it or leave it.

Enjoy

------

It's been a while since the end of the second season, they're all a year older, and apparently blue is the leader now. Does everyone like the idea? Nop

The boys managed to save the world after the almost destruction of everything at the hands of the Shedder, but not without leaving consequences. Strange cracks have recently been reported in the hidden city and New York. These cracks usually appear in random places, have magical properties, their exponential growth periodically, and are characterized by being accompanied by earthquakes wreaking havoc on both worlds. If they do not stop them soon the reality of both civilizations could be harmed. However, no one knows precisely the cause of these, their nature, or their true power... except for Draxum(? He has seen that kind of brilliance before, in his years as a warrior, yokai alchemist, and hater of humans.

As a last resort to save the world, he decides to look for someone who he hurt terribly in the past, Usagi.

Usagi is a 16 year old boy, he was born and raised on the outskirts of the hidden city in a very gated traditional community. Where what is professed is the importance of teaching and preserving the traditions of the first yokais who came from Japan to New York settling in the hidden city to build a new life there. Some time ago, his clan was the only one that had New York, they supported each other. They had a great sense of community and union thanks to the great chief who was blessed with the power of the gods to bring harmony and order.

However, with the passage of time and modernization of human society, several members were moving away from it opting for other forms and lifestyles. This greatly displeased the sages and elders within society, causing new severe rules against anything related to change. Thereby creating a smaller, closed, and remote community until total isolation.

Usagi was born into a society almost forgotten and close to change, he as the only son of the boss, had to learn everything necessary to one day succeed his father and continue with the tradition, he is aware of this. He knows the importance of this. He loves his father and loves his people.

But is it really what usagi wants? What if it wasn't?

Sadly before he could know the answer to that question, misfortune knocked on his door.

"Being different takes you bad places son"

It is one of the words he remembers most from his father as he waits his turn in the cell to get in the ring and fight for his life followed by Draxum's face, he cannot forget it, nor does he want to. Yes, there was a time when he believed he would be the chief. He really thought that some days he would make a change. He thought that he had friends. Did he was someone? Did he ever have a life?

Now he only fights to survive one more day... until some turtle boys appeared to look for him.

Things have not been easy for mad dogs, since the change of leadership from Leo to Rapha, the missions have become more complicated not to mention that his success rate in these has been declining thanks to Leo always ending up acting on his own more than in a team causing arguments between him and Rapha, followed by his two other brothers trying to calm them down.

Raphael is the older brother of the boys, he has been the natural leader of his brothers for years, and despite that, the truth is he has no problem with leaving the leadership to Leo. That is, at first the whole thing brought him a lot of mixed feelings. Was there anything wrong with him? If he was no longer the leader of the mad dogs, what is his role in the team? It was all very confusing, but if Dad thinks it's the right decision to make Leo the leader, that's fine, he wants to support him and teach him everything he knows. But sometimes it's so complicated and frustrating to make Leo understand that every decision that he makes has consequences. The most recent thing they must solve now are those rare and complicated cracks. Honestly, they have Rapha very worried and if Leo does not take it seriously, he does not know what else he can do.

Mikey was always the youngest in the family, he was always loved and protected by his older brothers since dad was not always available for them due to personal problems related to PTSD. Therefore it is normal that he has never liked the conflicts between his brothers and since the change of roles, these have become more frequent. He genuinely wants to help everyone, he is no longer a child who must be overprotected by others, sometimes he can also do the same for his siblings, listen to his problems, propose solutions, and talk.

Things like that.

It's just frustrating that they always underestimate his abilities and treat him like a baby by hiding things that they think he can't handle. Since the magical cracks appeared Mikey has the feeling that this could be his chance to show his brothers that he can help them too, he is the most magical of the family he just needs a chance.

Donnie has never been the best when it comes to feelings or change. There are many things that have changed since the battle with the shedder, starting with Leo who is now apparently the leader. Honestly, he is not very sure about this new change in the team, I mean he loves his brother and he must admit that he has some leadership qualities, but Raphael has always been in charge of leading them, it is a big change that he is terrified that It's going to go wrong and to be fair over the last few weeks Leo hasn't helped him change his mind. Recently cracks started appearing everywhere and maybe his brothers don't understand but if they don't work as a team this could go very wrong, not being good at this feeling thing, he doesn't know how to tell others his worries about the cracks.

Draxum insists that he knows someone. Yeah, of course. Let's trust him.

Leonardo, to be fair with him…

He never wanted to be the leader, "the face man" was a much more comfortable title for him. Honestly, what was dad thinking about that decision? Everyone knew that he didn't have the ability to be the leader, you don't have to be very smart to realize that he's not the one for the job. Being the leader of the mad dogs comes with so much responsibility and pressure, you only have to look at Rapha's forehead to know what he meant. Not to mention that everyone is against his way of doing things, he doesn't want to be the leader, but when he tries, nobody listens to him! He gets results, right? What is the problem, then?? Maybe he doesn't take it too seriously, but he just doesn't want to do this. Must be a bad dad joke and by this point, it's not funny anymore.

The cracks appeared recently and Draxum says that he knows someone who might have an answer for her, he honestly just wants to accomplish this one more mission to prove her point, until a cute boy shows up.

------

I thought about this comic as a way in which I would like to develop different aspects such as trauma, sexuality, their relationships with each other, and insecurities of the characters within the TMNT universe, etc. Since I didn't want this to get stuck on just in one ship. This led me to make the comic longer than I originally intended... and I mean A LOT longer.

For example, the typical rivalry between Leonardo and Raphael, but taken in a different way where Rapha tried to be like a mentor/guide for Leo developing their friendship (just like in the movie)

Donnie's problems over the idea that Draxum is now one of the good guys and he honestly doesn't believe him and doubts that someone like him can change so quickly.

Show a nice relationship between Mikey and Leo, where Angelo acts as a support for his brother and Leo is really willing to listen to Mikey's concerns.

I had planned that after Leo, Donnie would be the one who gets along best with Usagi although no one knows why, maybe it's because they are both quite quiet. At some point, Usagi turns to Don to tell him about his confused feelings for Leo, but Donnie would not be of much help in this regard because I was thinking of doing him aro/ace hahaha therefore he does not understand 100% what is happening to these two but he is sure They like each other and it's annoying to hear them both being so dramatic.

Another relationship I wanted to show would be Rapha's with Cass. In other adaptations, we saw that they have been very close and I wanted them to get along in some way in my AU. For example that Rapha and Cass started talking to each other since he helped her with anger management issues and getting over her past as part of the Foot Clan.

Leosagi wouldn't be the only ship in the AU either. I love Cass x April and I imagine them in a dynamic of enemies to lovers, for me they are girlfriends and I don't care what the rest say they love each other. Since they helped each other grow up, Splinter was the first to notice that they both have a lot in common even if they don't notice it.

Venus de milloooo, she will definitely have an antagonist role~ a turtle that splinter forgot to take and after surviving on her own in the streets of the hidden city. She ended up in the hands of big mama, being one of her champions in the battle of the nexus, earning her trust, leveling up and working for her as her right hand.

Finally, I think about including other characters for which I already have designs and others I don't see idk I want to pamper myself. Everything is possible.

Comic part 1

note 1: to be honest I doubt very much that I will draw the complete story that I develop for this Au, due to lack of time and nobody is paying me asdhadkjk at most a couple of vignettes of my favorite parts, explain the context, fanarts, and designs. But nothing more, I would let the fandom do what they want with this idea, just write leosagi fanfics please, I emotionally depend on that.

note2: I really want to thank @herm_izz and @nanakase_01 for helping me with the art and the script. THEY ARE SO AMAZING JUST GO AND FOLLOW THEM ON TWITTER

note3: I know my English sucks I'm doing my best :')

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braxlrose · 1 month

Note

I miss ur writings sm :(

I am so sorry that I've been gone for so long, I haven't posted any fan fiction in so many months and honestly I lost motivation 😭 so many ppl who were in this fandom and I created a community with, were slowly getting over this "phase" and it definitely affected me. But I'm going to try and get back into writing. I hope this will do good for now! Ive had a lot of ppl recently ask for 2005 bill hcs, and I've done that before so if this is repetitive for something else I've written, sorry!

content warnings: none

a/n: I'll be updating my tag list since it hasn't been updated since like August of last year and I don't want to be tagging people who don't care or want to see these posts anymore. So if you wanna be tagged, let me know!

2005!bill kaulitz x f!reader

sfw:

- I'm an alternative person so whenever I write for bill, I always imagine him with an alternative girl 😞 even though from what I've seen he's never really been w/ an alternative one, BUT LETS PRETEND OKAY 🙏🙏

• he absolutely loves doing hair together, I think he enjoys helping you do your hair in the morning and your make up. And he's even more greatful if you do his makeup. Then he can just relax while you help him.

• pookie has crunchy ass hair at the end of the day when he has to wash it out, don't make fun of him 😞

• getting piercings together is something he LOVES doing with you. Mainly early piercings because he only has a tongue and eyebrow piercing on his face.

• if you made music too, he would always go to your concerts and basically scream the entire time. Hopefully, you'd do the same for him.

• if you have longer nails, head scratches are always a must and he will lay in your lap for literal hours while you pamper him.

- I personally think he would love to learn words in your language if you keep something different than German. And despite what anybody thinks, he finds it hilarious to learn the dirty words.

• if you cook him something from your culture, he will literally die. He basically thinks everything about you is so cool, and learning about a culture different from his is so exciting

• but if you two really want to date, you'll have to both try to learn English or each other language because there is going to be a hard language barrier between you two.

- I think one of the reasons he would've fallen in love with you is because you were upfront with him. He's not the type of guy to just go up and kiss someone so if you confess first, that would make things so much easier.

- obviously, you'd have to get along with Tom, Georg and Gustav. So if you don't, there's no way he'll go out with you, especially if you can't get along or hate Tom.

-Dates together consist of stuff you guys bought somewhere, or if you guys went to a fastfood restaurant.

• He doesn't have a lot of money yet so dates wouldn't exactly be high class, hopefully you don't mind 😉

-Since this is around the time Tokio Hotel is getting increasingly famous, there are fangirls around trying to flirt and ask out bill all the time and he has to shoo them off. He reminds you every night about how much he loves you and that those fan girls shouldn't bother you.

-he likes to spoon you a lot, and you two switch back n forth between him being the big spoon and the small spoon.

• I think he also really likes it when you lay on top of him, with your face in his neck and your legs wrapped around him. (This also works sitting upwards).

• cuddling with him is so nice too because he actually smells really good 😱

- I think he still gets very insecure sometimes because of the haters and people who harass the band because they don't like them and you reassure him a lot.

a/n pt 2: sorry this wasn't too long! I'm trying to get back into the groove of writing so if this is terrible I'm sorry 😞

taglist: none right now

#tokio hotel #bill kaulitz #tokio hotel x reader #tokio hotel bill kaulitz #bill kaulitz x reader #bill kaulitz x yn #tokio hotel fanfics #i hope this wasnt completely terrible #i havent written in forever ��

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morallyinept · 8 months

Text

Tendrils - A Din Djarin One Shot

Summary: Admiring his art, The Mandalorian loves to tie you up in knots. A Kinbaku/Shibari session with your Nawashi Rope Master, Din Djarin.

Pairing: Din Djarin x F!Reader (No name or physical description of reader. It��s you, bub.)

Word Count: 5.6k.

Scoville Smut Rating:🌶️🌶️🌶️ “You tell me I’m doing well, and then, you try to kill me.”

Check out my Scoville Smut Ratings here.

Warnings/Triggers: BDSM themes/Kinbaku/Shibari/rope play/suspension/restraint/all consensual/soft dom Din/unprotected PIV (wrap up, folks!)/oral M receiving/gagging/fingering/light choking/praise/all the good stuff.

NSFW. MINORS DNI! OVER 18’s ONLY. YOU ARE SOLELY RESPONSIBLE FOR WHAT YOU READ. ☝🏻Don’t come at me - you’ve been plenty warned.

I write for me, and I share with you. If this story isn't to your taste, that's fine. Just slip quietly out the back door. No need to make a fuss. It's just a work of fiction.

Author’s Note: Originally inspired from my Pedro Boys & Kinks Ramble. Shibari is the ancient Japanese art of bondage rope tying. Kinbaku takes this same skill, but in a more emotional and sensual direction. In this story Din is your Nawashi Master. A Nawashi is a skilled rope artist who concentrates on the communication with a partner and includes sensual emotion through a heightened state of rope suspension and play. I love the idea of Din being a more gentle rope rigger enthused more so by the art of it. So here he is. 🥰

MASTERLIST | DIN DJARIN MASTERLIST

Enjoy! 🖤

As you peer up through the window into the depths of deep space, the galaxy sprawls before your eyes in a mesmerising display of colours and wonder.

The scene evokes a sense of awe and insignificance, as you’re confronted with the sheer scale and beauty of the cosmos. It never fails to render you wholly incapacitated; here, and on your knees for it.

The first thing that strikes you is the vastness of it all. The galaxy stretches out seemingly without end, with countless stars dotting the inky expanse.

Some stars appear as brilliant points of light, while others form clusters and constellations; their patterns etching stories of their lifetimes in the night sky.

Tinctures dance the canvas. The stars vary in hue, from the cool, icy blues of young, hot stars to the warm, fiery oranges and reds of ageing giants. Interstellar clouds of gas and dust provide a striking contrast to the stars.

These nebulae come in shades of pink, purple, but mostly blue; their ethereal glow creating a sense of otherworldly beauty that you never tire of.

Serving as the cosmic nurseries where new stars are born, and their colours reflect the processes of star formation and destruction. Life and death. An ouroboros of never-ending repetition.

Amidst the wonder, you glimpse the faint, ghostly tendrils of spiral arms, hinting at the structure of the galaxy itself. These spirals are composed of stars, dust, and gas, swirling in intricate patterns that pull your gaze deeper into the cosmic abyss.

Naked, and on your knees, glancing up at it all with big, curious eyes from within the dark, muted shadows of the docked Razor Crest awaiting its next charge, you are still.

Unmoving.

You understand why Din has you engage in this ritual before you begin; it’s pertinent to challenge the perseverance through the discomfort.

A euphoric catharsis; a form of calming meditation as you sink into the enveloping arms of deep space, before you fall into your subspace.

A moment of stillness, that’s all he seeks from you. A moment of calm in the chaos surrounding him through the vortexes of the universe.

Din observes you quietly, eyes shrouded under Beskar steel; his silhouette bleeding into the shadows of a Rorschach inkblot on the periphery of your vision.

A moment of stillness, that’s all he covets. And you give it to him so willingly. His obedient chattel, freely surrendering into the symbiotic relationship created between you both in your mutual lust for the bind.

He looks across at you and he feels the stillness swell in you; motion and fluidity traded for practiced silence and strict immobility. He approaches and when you look up into the T-shape visor, his voice rousing you to do so, your own reflection mirrors back, albeit a little wobbly.

He feels the stillness within him too when you look up at him like that. The calming of the bountiful tides from those sparkly peepers of yours.

The rope is ready, all laid out on the cot in its serpentine coils. Plentiful and scarlett. Silken, yet binding in its bite if he allows it to be. Recalling from the thesaurus of knots in his mind, he visits the exquisite Eden of his preselections.

He reaches up to test the metal ring above the cot; solid and unwavering in its Beskar rigidity of course. Pulling on it, his strength flexes in his bare sculpted arm, and it stirs you from the sights out the window of the ship.

A slight tilt of your head at the sight of him taut and muscular. The physicality of a Mandalorian comes not without its scars, but to you he is simply wondrous in all his marring.

You try to remain composed as you steal a glance at him, but your body is heated. Swollen and already wet between your thighs for what is to come.

He is soon felt at your nape, the small ghost of his fingers sending shivers through each nodule of your spine. Your toes tingle as you sit on them, kneeling and waiting patiently for him to let you fly.

Helping you to your numbed feet, Din guides you through a few slow stretches; your naked back flush to his bare chest mirrored in the window at you; centered in the silvery aura of his pale glow.

His large hands gently glide across your supple form as he lifts your arms and you feel the cracks loosening your joints furthermore as he manipulates you into shapes. Pliant and wanting and he folds you out.

He pulls back on your arms and you feel your shoulders open. He instructs you to fall as far forward as you can keeping your feet docked in between his, and you don't hesitate at his gentle instruction.

You hum out as you feel the stretch arch through your back and legs.

He worships you in this moment, in the quietude before; the thrill of your surrender. The sentient life of your trust blooming its fruit.

“Do you feel prepared enough?” His modulated voice is soft through the static.

You nod softly, feeling no vice of tension lick at your abdomen.

“Words, please.” His voice is delicate, yet commanding.

He knows how to pitch his tenor; to be heard only by you, even in the cold, distant hums of the Razor Crest. Even in the swarmed crowds in the marketplace on Navarro.

“Yes. I’m ready,” you breathe. You’re always ready for him; the telltale heat felt on your cheeks and collarbone confirm it.

He draws a deep breath of his own, preparing. It crackles in your ear as he exhales.

"Breathe. Move only through your stillness. Be at one with the calm. Tell me to stop if you require."

You nod, obeying him. Falling furthermore into him.

He swears he can feel you grow closer in those moments of your calm obedience; your roots finding their way through his damp soil as he waters you to bloom.

Din shows you the rope he will use for this session, letting you feel it with your fingers, absolving any ligaments of fear you may have.

The rope is his tool; a chisel with which he carves you into new shapes through methodical repetition. And it's a tool that brings a comforting sense of tranquility almost immediately as you fondle it.

His hands glide up the sides of your waist as you take it from him to inspect and enjoy and you shudder as goose pimples flood your torso.

He strokes towards the mounds of your breasts where he cups over them, pinching the nipples that stiffen gently as he rolls them between his thumb and forefinger.

You hiss in rapture at the pull and squeeze of them; the cool weight of his helmet is pressed against the back of your skull as you mew gently around your gasps.

“Mmm,” you whine and he approves with a groan of his own. Groping gently and feeling how your nipples harden still.

"Distracted?" You ask with a coy smirk.

"Always," he confirms with a ghostly murmur as he watches you hiss again as he pulls a little tighter on your nipples.

He’ll tease you like this as he binds you; stopping momentarily to touch your skin, marvelling as your warm flesh turns pimply with the trails of his digits that tickle and tingle.

He’ll take his sweet time in annihilating you.

He takes the rope back from you; ataraxy settles in your features. You can see it in the mercury sheen of his helmet as he turns to unwind the jute silk from its sleeping coil.

He pauses for a moment, perhaps in reflection, perhaps in some unknown hesitation. His thumb brushes against the cleft of your bottom lip affectionately. A last confirmation of your willingness to relinquish the exquisite restriction of your control.

He drops his hand and then he begins.

Din always ties you tightly, but never constricts to the force of unbearability. He knows how to apply the right pressures into your skin, your veins.

Din knows just how you like it.

He knows this is what your energy demands of him in the moment, akin to his own. You give your all to him whilst he knots the rope delicately around your limbs as you become one with it.

He feels it each time you sag, relax fully into the depths of your submission. Hears the pliant murmurs of your sighs as they leave your mouth and slip up inside his helmet for him to taste and swallow down with your sweetness.

Your complicitness in your trust for your Nawashi Master always astounds him.

In the delicate artistry of his preferred practice of Kinbaku, the first knot Din chooses is the Hishi Karada. A full torsoed harness that resembles diamonds when woven across the front of your body.

The silken lines snake up and around your neck like a halter; a living entity slithering sensually over your skin. He watches your reactions as he fastens and loops; the way your eyes dilate and your smile widens.

Then follows the Takate-Kote. Chest loading for the final suspension, your arms are crossed gently behind your back, holding onto each elbow. He slides the loops into place around your wrists.

Your bare chest presented out to him further as the cavity is restrained and pushed forward; nipples tight and hardening again as he fashions the rope into twists between your breasts.

He draws the line around and over, criss-crossing delicately. He curves and braids and pulls tight to cinch, and soon the first bindings of your ropes are complete around the diamonds.

“How does that feel, good?” Din checks in with you, stopping entirely until you give him a verbal response.

“Yes,” you nod. “It feels good. Comfortable.”

"Then I'm doing it wrong," you hear him chuckle gently and you smirk.

"No. It's always perfect. Like you."

He stops again for a moment and you feel him looking at you from under the helmet, slightly cocked to one side as he regards you silently.

It makes your skin warm again after a few moments, the intensity of his gaze on you; even if you can't see it.

The anfractuous dance continues over your skin as he gathers himself and attaches the second line of rope. Silken trails are bound snug against your flesh and feel weighted - secure. You’re not going anywhere once he has you.

Din succumbs to the rhythm of the tie. Each weave calls to him and he yields to its haunting Siren song.

A candescent mesmerisation in a shrill undoing of his soul. The flow of the rope, the flow of you all around him; the flood of blood to the end of his heavy cock.

After a fairly short passing of time, the Takate-Kote is complete, and you stand before him bound in the invitation of your innocence.

The ample curve of your breasts rising and falling of their own with each deep breath you take; swollen and further bouyant by the ropes lifting them to their maximum pertness.

Din attaches the first of the longer lines that will suspend you fully; his hand closing around your throat gently to pull you closer towards him as he works.

When you swallow, he can feel it against his palm as he threads through the ring and pulls you up onto the bone of your big toes; his elegant ballerina.

You feel his fingers stroke through the nape of your hairline and you shudder.

He kneels then, to worship at your feet, more of the jute attached in his hands. Din turns his helmeted head up at you and your reflection greets you back once more.

You're a vision in scarlet lines and knots against your flesh. You beam down at him in your satiated grace enjoying the feeling it evokes.

"This amuses you?" He takes note of your jaw stretched wide in that blinding grin he knows only too well.

"No," you smile wider.

"Well, it amuses me. Greatly. "

"Sadist." You chirp and he tugs on the rope with severity making you jostle again and your giggles tinker out of you freely and more ungraceful. "You play dirty." You snort.

"That's surely the only way to play." Din clicks jubilantly. "Hold still."

He gently folds your left leg back first; heel pressed to the back of your thigh top, and starts scribing the story of the Futomomo Spiral on your skin like a brand.

He knows this will be a challenge for you, but you're resolute in your eagerness to withstand, to endure. To please the bounty hunter who captured your heart.

He senses that from you; he senses your limits and knows how far to push you and when to retrieve you from that place where pleasure morphs into torrid pain.

Sometimes, he’ll let you pendulum between the two; he knows that you want to taste it as its heat licks at your curiosity.

Careful and slow with his ties, Din weaves the sinuous ladders cinching down each line.

He tugs gently and you feel it on your pressure points. Your heightened gasp floods his blood with liquid heat when he does it once more.

“Good?” He checks in again, his thumb circling the meat of your inner thigh, inches from your bare sex.

The scent of you wafts under his helmet making his mouth salivate.

“Yes,” you confirm again through a breathy sigh.

You can feel the dull ache in your leg now that it’s up, leaving you balancing tenderly on your right big toe as you strictly steady yourself from your core not to waver or swing.

You giggle again when you fail, leaning and twirling, and he smiles in response in the secretive confines of his helmet. He never scolds you for laughing; he enjoys that music too much.

He takes your other leg, and repeats the same pattern and you’re suspended from the ring completely, swaying gently against him as he finishes off the beautifully delicate pattern.

Din stands, gathering the last of the rope and pulling backwards as you arch and tip forward, hair falling into your face. He pauses for a moment, glorifying again in the feel of your body pressed close to him whilst he secures you in precise, mathematical knots.

Nose pressed flush against his shoulder where a prominent scar welts there in its ferociousness, and you can’t help but to taste the salt of the ridge as you plant a delicate kiss there.

It disorientates him for a moment; you hear the soft whoosh of his breath flow out from under the helmet warming your cheek.

"Now who's playing dirty, hmm?" He teases.

Din's last step is to braid the remaining overhang of the line into your hair. He scoops it gently out of your face, granting you your vision back as he secures the braid at the end. His fingers weaving across your skull emits a low simper from you.

You squirm and pout as he pushes you back into the air and stills you by the shoulders.

"Almost there, Mesh’la."

Din finally ties you off, pulling you higher as you mourn the loss of his touch. His breath is now coming slow and steady; that calm absolving him of the primaeval misdeeds of his bounties.

He smiles and strokes your cheek tenderly as you let your head fall forward into gravity where you'll hang for a time determined only by him.

“There,” his voice is a whisper, canted in the grizzled tones that only you can hear. The ground beneath his feet ripples like water as he admires the finished sculpture of your form.

He can feel your bliss flooding you; the elation of your aura bursting around the embrace of the ropes, sinking into the fibres to glow with you. You’re a vision in your contortion. How a God would craft his kin from his rib.

He instigates one last check of your restraints before he settles back on the cot underneath you, flat on his back and propped up by the cushion of his bicep under his helmet.

Watching keenly as his masterpiece sways and rotates gently in a slow orbit above him to the backdrop of the cosmos outside.

He watches from inside the helmet as the vacillation of your constricted ballet gravitates above him. An angel clipped of their wings; your body pretzeled into a shape that defies profundity. He watches, he exudes calm.

He’s found his stillness at last.

A low moan slips from your lips, rousing him back from his utopia. It's then he notices the shine; the singular bead of your slick glistening as it makes a track down your inner thigh. He’s exposed you fully to him and his cock twitches in response at your pleasure in him doing so.

He longs to taste it; to feel that sweet tang dance over his taste buds again and flood his mouth like juicy fruit. He could have you for as long as he wanted, you'd just have to take it.

Take all of him as he pummels, as he fucks without abandon. Pulling you back onto him controlled only by the swing of the rope; his violence planting flowers under your skin, cracking you open as they bloom.

You’d be unable to move, to resist as he pulls your pleasure from you in droves and drowns you in his own. Works you through the overstimulation you feel after you come, forcing you to confront it for however long he pleases and you'd shudder and cry that you can't take anymore. All you could do is take as he gives.

Your face is what captures him again; stills any restlessness he unwittingly clings to fully. Blissed out, your mouth slack and your pupils wide. High in your subspace as you dangle above him; a twirling pirouette frozen in movement for him to marvel at.

In that fleeting, dreamy moment, Din understands that euphoria is not just an individual sensation; it’s something that could be heightened when two souls come together in perfect harmony to share.

You’re the pliant, obedient ying to his commanding yet soothing yang. He feels it bleed into him from you.

You watch above him; his form spinning slowly on the cot as you turn on an axis. See how his hand strokes along the pallet of his chest, down to the soft plume of his stomach and grips tightly over his cock. Squeezing and cupping the heavy weight of it through his pants as he strangles a groan.

You bite your lip, you want him so badly when you’re so open and exposed like this. When you fly for him. Just the way he constructed you to. Holes ready and waiting to be filled if he so wishes.

Or he could leave you wanting, contracting around nothing in a frozen anticipation.

Craving for him to fill you and take from you as you’re helpless in your binds. For him to enjoy this exquisite piece of art he's crafted out of you.

And the exquisitiness of it all is that you never know if he will or not.

Your knees and ankles ache; the dull thrum of the blood pumping harder around the knots to keep your limbs on the precipice of a pleasant numbness.

Your conscious thoughts are a mere whisper; a single nagging moment quickly lost amidst the chaos of desire and need for the Mandalorian who has constructed you from clay with his thick, calloused fingers.

Bringing you in warm to experience the highest sensations of pleasure: this is the way he shows his love.

His flight suit and steel have been long traded for soft Harem pants hanging dangerously low on his waist. A faint smattering of dark curls trail from below his belly button into the front of them and you glimpse the obvious bugle that swells within them that he fondles brazenly.

Watching hungrily as he now slips his hand inside the front, you whimper and struggle against your bindings. Your body jerks in that wanton haze.

A noise similar of that to a swamp Dagobah escapes you on a croaked strangle.

“Patience,” his voice is tensile, and yet somehow discernible above the tumult of the blood now pumping in your ears; its sonorous strains slipping between frenetic chaos to find you mindlessly incoherentat the sight of his swell.

You tremble at the overwhelming power in his voice, and you know you’ll always do whatever he asks of you.

Feral intensity spikes hard inside your cunt as Din pulls his hard, weeping cock out of his pants. The swollen head, a flush pink, he runs his thumb over the glistening diamond of precum that sparkles at you and you lick your lips involuntarily wishing you could taste it.

Your arousal and the dampness between your thighs is prevalent as your skin begins to bead with sweat. Heat flooding over your limbs furthermore. The fine tendrils at the back of your neck, missed from the braid, stick to it.

Din pumps his cock languidly, but you can feel the grip of his fingers tighten around his thick shaft pinch all over your flesh that isn’t bound.

Absorbing his passion, your own builds, coating the lips of your cunt in glistening concupiscence.

He seeks to remind you of your tangible agony with those snuffled grunts he pollutes around the Razor Crest, echoing around his ears inside the helmet, and you can hear their veracity as they intensify with the motion of his wrist.

“Please,” you whine above him; your body twirling around faster as you struggle and itch against the fibres.

“What do you seek?” His words are a taunt, not so much a question and you can hear the slick around his teeth through the modulator as he grins. He enjoys your agony very much when you're strung above him like this.

Delicate. Helpless.

“Please, Din. Don't make me beg.” You pout again as he speeds up and the sounds of the gentle slaps of his wet dick inside his fist supernovas on your clit.

"Why? I enjoy it when you beg."

“You, I need...” You're panting now. His jerking intensifies, as do his groans.

“There’s a place amongst the stars for you soon." His body tenses as he works himself into a frenzy. Teasing the fractals of your distress to the surface.

You can only watch as he pleasures himself below you. So near, yet so incredibly far; separated by a vast expanse of the galaxy outside. The agony it births within you starts to crush your bones as you writhe against the knots.

“Find your stillness,” he commands in a soothing tone; his voice jostling from his speedy fisting around his cock. You stop struggling, the bite around your limbs begins to lessen instantly.

You whine furthermore as you watch him; he denies you what you so desperately want.

“Please…” Your voice is strangled by the patheticness of your requisite. And it's enough to make him break in his own selfish need to deny you any further.

Din Djarin can never deny you.

Sitting upright, he pulls on the line descending you gently towards him. Laying back, you hover over him like an apparition, scant inches above his skin.

He maps out your route, controlling your mouth on his torso, where he wants your tongue as you kiss and lick wet tracks over him, barely reaching his flesh at times. Your constant battle for his loins amuses him in your desire to resist him, yet the Mandalorian’s resolve only takes him so far.

"Open," he instructs and your lips part.

Weakened by you, he feeds you his cock, finally, allowing it to slip between your lips. A grunt escapes as he slides into your mouth, meeting with the wet, spongy flesh at the back of your throat.

“That’s it, good.” Din whines, his hands on the back of your head gently; right fist wound around your roped braid and tugging it, controlling your depth. He knows all too well how eager you are to swallow him down. But he wants this to last.

"So good for me."

Breathy husks escape him, rattling through the modulator and out into the ether. The obscene wet sounds of your earnest sucking and his dirty grunts, makes you pulse.

The prominent, swollen vein on the underside of his cock warms to the surface by your mouth and you feel your lips ridge over it.

“More,” Din instructs through a wheeze.

You open up further, relaxing your throat at his command and he slips in further still. Deeper into the crevice of your trachea and you feel the heaves already swelling at the bottom of your gut.

"Relax. Wider for me. You can take it all, I know you can... That's it. So good when you relax for me..."

Slowly, and with gentle cajoling, you take him fully, right down to his balls where your chin sinks into the plumpness of them.

Your nostrils are tickled by the soft scratch of pubic fuzz around the base of his shaft. You inhale soap, his own salty musk and the faint aroma of metal.

Another satisfied grunt escapes from under the helmet. You flick your tear-filled eyes up to see the shape of his chin pointed to the sky from within the helmet. The faint shadows of light stubble that dance over it and entice you to lick the roughness there.

You've never seen his face, have never bore witness to the spectacle of it. And yet you know every feature, every crook of his smile and every flex of his brow underneath the Beskar when he finds his pleasure.

Closing your eyes, you're mindful of your respect, and just enjoy the sounds he makes for you instead.

"There you go... this is what you wanted, hmm?" He fucks your mouth deeply; gentle rhythmic thrusts from his hips as you moan and drool around the fullness of him.

A thick, pearly strand of your saliva plops onto his thigh as it dangles from your mouth. His cock lubricated wholly in your eagerness to please.

He pulls out momentarily to stroke it all over himself, slather up his cock with your sputum before pushing it between your lips once more.

"Again."

You gasp and heave. Your eyes water and finally spill tears over your cheeks from the strain.

"Beautiful," he whispers. His thumbs smear them away. A choke splutters out of you as he nudges against the gag reflex, the back of your throat clamping around him involuntarily in response.

The punch either side of his thick head makes him groan deeply. His fingers twist around your scalp as he pushes himself fully into the hilt of your throat.

Your pussy is dripping, you can feel it sticking on the insides of your thighs and your clit aches with a pinch of pain sparking as you suck.

You squeeze, chasing the exalted feeling as your pelvic floor contracts against the right places inside of you and you moan around him; the hum on his bulbous head in your throat delighting him furthermore.

Din knows what you're doing though, your squirming pulls him from the throes of his pleasure as he sits up and reaches his arm across the roped pleats over your back.

"So needy..." His fingers swipe down your crack, prodding at your lips; slipping down into the gooey ribbons of your pussy as your face remains buried in his crotch - his cock still in the back of your skull as you suck on it eagerly.

The whine you let go of tribs around his length as he swipes his pads across the nub of your clit. Your body jerks in response. He slides his fingers inside your hole that’s so ready for him; drenched and so tight.

Din feels it as you come almost instantly from a few pumps of his fingers; studies your face as he pulls his cock out of your mouth, listens to the sounds you make from his fingers fapping harder inside you.

"You're going to do that for me again, Mesh'la."

He brings you to the edge once more, and instead of holding you back or denying you, he lets you fly. He wants to see your colours and bask in their vividness as they blind him. To feel you tighten and constrict around his fingers.

"So beautiful."

He knows this is real, knows that he makes you feel these things for him as your eyes roll back and that heat floods your body, rising from the pit of your core like a sleeping giant.

Snapping back like an elastic band. Wandering through the realms of sheer euphoria with a kindred spirit to guide the way.

“Din!” You yelp as your bound body twists and contorts, and he keeps you steady in the air on the end of his fingers. "It's too much, I-"

"There is no such thing as too much. Your body wants it. Silence your mind and let it soar."

"Mmm, yes!"

“Give yourself to me…” He instructs. “Let me have all of you.” Din slaps your pussy, the thunder from his gargantuan palm shooting into your clit and all through your body.

It moves at his command, arching and twisting as it yields. "Let go..."

And you do. You flood his fingers as he reinserts them; silken and warm as you expand and float off to be at one with the gaseous stars.

Din loosens the line fully and manoeuvres you onto your back on the cot. Sitting above your face, meaty thighs either side of it, he strokes your bottom lip. His breath catches as you kiss it.

"You flew."

You nod. "Yeah."

"You think you can fly some more?"

"Yes." You quiver.

"Good. Open." He plunges his cock in deep into your throat as you choke and gag around it, only pulling out when he knows you will need to take a breath, timing it in his head. Timing how long you could take it before you’d turn blue like the nebulae and splutter.

"Breathe... like I taught you. Use your nose."

Breathing correctly, you can keep him there, at the back of your larynx as he fucks your face with a little more vigour now; your wet, gummy flesh pulsing against the head of him as you try to intake air and he makes it last that bit longer each time.

He grips gently around your throat as he reaches back and pinches your clit, rolling it through his fingers tightly and making you gasp from the overstimulation.

Your eyes roll into the back of your head from lack of oxygen and too much pleasure as the shock waves of your orgasm continue to tingle and burn their way through you until you're smashed dust amongst the stars.

Din looks down at you through the T-visor, taking you all in as he makes you his art, his finest masterpiece yet. The knots and weaves moving as one with your body.

He pulls out again, groaning as you suck one of his balls eagerly into your mouth, his other hand stroking the length of his cock that’s fatter and twitching around his fist. A cerise pink head that's angry and wanting, and leaking again.

He’s so close. He wants you to have him, have you swallow him down into your belly. He instructs you to spit on it and he watches with abject rapture as you decorate him in foamy crystal strings.

He growls at the sight of it, and it makes all your ribs snap.

You suck him down again and swallow deep, feeling him prod at the back of your throat once more as he guides and controls you with subtle flexes of his hips; his hand knotting in your braid. His grunts are felt on the end of your clit, his satisfaction tingling all through your body.

He can't hold on much longer, he wants you. Want to feel you milk him of his resolve. Take from him what he wants you to have.

He unties you from the ring, catching you steady in his arms as he sits back with you, lifting you into his lap. Your arms are still bound around your back and legs still bent into his crafted shapes.

“I've got you, cyar'ika.” He assures as he holds you steady and he feels you relax into his grip keeping you upright. “Sing for me,” he groans as he sinks you down onto his hard cock and you gasp at the intrusion of his swell.

"Mmmaaha," you whine, dizzy and hot.

"I know, just a little more. Move with me." Din whispers. "That's it, good. Keep it going."

You ride him slowly, gently as his arms wrap you up and hold you close to him, almost crushing the life out of you as his hips buck up to meet yours in this sensual grind.

He's so deep like this. You gasp out, letting go as he fills you up, stretching you open; making you detach and lose yourself in this moment inside the safe lock of his arms - inside of him.

You're gone. Completely dissociated and only he is your God. Your Kad Ha'rangir. You’re not afraid to be lost with him. And he knows that eventually, you will help him find his way out too.

Ephaptic coupling, synapses firing, neutron stars colliding; you burst open from your seams with a choked screech, your skin tight around the bindings and rope, and yet you don't feel them anymore. You feel free as you float and soar and take Din with you by the hand.

Your slick drenches him as your cunt tightens, and he falls with you, letting himself explode with you and calling out for you in his momentary blinding.

His body shudders as he releases, filling you to the brim with his plentiful warmth; coming hard and feeling like he'll never stop.

Smashed. Wrecked. Gone. Your bodies are just empty husks until the gold of your souls return from the vastness of space to rejoin the sensations that still ebb and flow in your veins.

"There," he gasps a little while after he's reborn. "Breathe... slowly. Deep."

Your forehead falls weakly against the coolness of his helmet; a soft bonk as your breath fogs it up whilst you inhale slowly in and out, coming back to dreamy reality and leaving the stars hanging in the universe where they belong.

Din's fingers dance over the thin skin of your lips. You taste them as you delicately kiss the pads of them, one by one as they pass, tender and sweet. Your eyes find his behind the helmet and despite not glimpsing them or knowing their true colour, you can still see them.

You place a gentle kiss on the side of the helmet; your lip print soon a ghostly fade.

"How are you hanging in there?" Din asks, a gentle tug on your woven restraints.

Your breathy giggle answers him and he knows now that this is what it must feel like to die.

You feel him begin to loosen the knots against your back after some time of cradling you against his chest. Listening to his heartbeat as it slows to a natural beguiling rhythm that makes you sleepy.

Slowly, your arms are freed; the ache in your bones is palpable as you wind your shoulders out. He frees your legs and lays you back on the cot admiring the welted indents that have left trenches of their patterns in your skin.

He traces them with a wandering fingertip, eliciting shudders from you as he trawls over your body before massaging the feeling back into your calves.

“Please, eyes closed, Mesh'la.” Din exhales and you respect his wish to be unbroken in his creed. You close your eyes and wait. Wait for the bow to break and then you'll fall into the starry abyss again as his lips finally greet your skin.

It's always the part of your sessions that you long for the most.

Din removes his helmet, placing it close by on the cot. The trust he has in you not to open your eyes is felt blossoming in your ventricles. You remain true to your promise and never take a sneaky peep.

You feel his soft lips kiss along the intricate indents on your flesh, tasting and licking around the swirls, the places where your skin turned a dark shade of mauve.

He gives life to your blood as it flows back into the tingly limbs.

You reach blindly into his crown, rifling through the softness of his hair; slightly damp around the nape of his neck as he kisses further up your body.

Din stops to gently suck your nipple into his mouth and pull it out of the puff of your areola to tease. He enjoys the delectable moans it pulls from you far too much. So much so, that it hardens him again.

But he knows you've reached your limit for now as you lay serene on the cot; eyes closed with a heady smile bleached into your features.

You're more beautiful to him now than you've ever been.

He licks up your clavicle towards your lips where he finally tastes you. Slipping his tongue inside your mouth, waltzing with yours as the warm flesh of his thick cock lays against the inside of your thigh.

"Din..." you croon, reaching blindly for him between your aching legs, but he stops you.

"Rest now. I'm here. You need sleep." He pulls you closer to him, cocooning you into the protective shell of his battered body.

It feels like forever since he was this close; this bound and tied to you in equal measure.

As he kisses you deeply, you wait with a satiated eagerness slipping under your heavy eyes for the next time when your Mandalorian, your Nawashi Master; your Kad Ha'rangir… Your Din Djarin of Clan Mudhorn, lets you fly freely again to the stars.

I really hope you enjoyed Nawashi Master Din! 🥹 I enjoyed writing this so much. Please, let me know your thoughts. I'd always love to hear them. 🖤

MASTERLIST | DIN DJARIN MASTERLIST

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