#Going Rogue: In Lock-Up With You | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

frantic-fiction · 3 months

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Tension 18+

Pic: littlelovelore

Astarion x f!reader

Summary: During a solo mission, Astarion takes the opportunity to indulge in some "depraved carnal lust".

Warnings: 18+ MDNI Slight enemies to lovers, sex bent over a desk, sex with clothes on, mild choking, rough sex, reader handles her crush like a fifth grader (by being mean) Astarion is his smug self

Word Count: 3.2k

Masterlist

Back-to-back posts brought to you by Bree's insomnia...Enjoy!

"Do you want me to do it?" Astarion smugly asks, flicking his wrist sharply, sending a dagger into the wood beam before him. He's leaning against the cracked wall of the tunnel. A condescending smile stretches across his pale lips.

"Shut the fuck up!" You snap, twisting the lockpick violently, it's stuck on something, and it is pissing you off.

"My my, someone's testy today." The Vampire pushes off the wall to retrieve his dagger, only for you to hear the same thud of the knife hitting the abused beam once again.

You clench your jaw, wanting nothing more than to drown the bastard in the small stream of gray water. See him try to be a smartass when he's choking on sewage.

No! Just breathe.

As soon as you get this damn door open, all you need is to grab the stolen lease for the damn butcher, and the party will have a nice payout. Then Astarion's snarky comments and teasing jabs can be ignored behind a glass of ale and a nice meal.

Well, if you don't kill him first.

The relationship between you and the Vampire is a complex one, to say the least. Astarion is an arrogant, pompous dick. You're a temperamental stubborn asshole. It made for a messy mix of harsh insults and constant attempts to belittle the other.

It would have been so easy to hate him completely, but Astarion can be sweet under the cloak of night, and you could almost pretend he's a tolerable person when he speaks those honey-coated words. And when you let him feed from you, everything became so much more complicated.

The pick snaps, and you drop your head, groaning in frustration. You stand up and kick hard against a crate; the decayed wood breaks against your boot. Sighing in defeat, you motion to the rogue.

Astarion laughs smoothly, tucking the knife away, and exchanges it for his thieves' tools. Giving you a wink, he bends down to examine the lock. You pretend not to admire the swell of his ass, but who are you kidding Astarion is extremely attractive.

With little to no fanfare, the lock turns over, and Astarion opens the door. "After you."

"I fucking hate you." You grumble, pushing past, making a point to shove your shoulder hard into the rouge.

"Keep telling yourself that Darling,"

You flip him off.

The sewer system is a winding path of tunnels leading to various places. The two of you walk in silence for a few minutes.

"Are you sure we are going the right way?" Astarion asks, breaking the peace.

"Of course, this is the right way." You hiss, glaring over your shoulder. "I can read a map."

"Just like you could pick a lock, yes?"

You don't think you've ever seen a more punchable face. You're almost tempted to smack him just to see his reaction. Instead, you practice a semblance of self-control and ignore him.

After a few more turns, you hit a dead end. It's nothing but a damp brick wall. Scanning the map, you're sure you followed all the proper steps; there should be an entrance. Stowing the stupid paper away, you begin feeling the brick for any invisible button, unwilling to admit defeat in front of Astarion. All hideouts have secret levers. Right?

"Well, sweetheart, I think you've gotten us lost."

"No, I didn't, jackass, now be useful for once and help me." You bend down and begin trailing your fingertips against the rough bricks near the floor.

"I don't think I will. I'm quite enjoying the view from here."

You look back towards the rogue, "What are you talking about–" you choke on your words.

Astarion is shamelessly eyeing your form. A fang tugs at his bottom lip, hunger darkening his eyes. You swallow hard, and a flame ignites low in your stomach. You have a sudden urge to press him against the wall. That thought startles you. This is Astarion. The obnoxious, arrogant, attractive–no, stop that. You stand up and shake your head, willing your thoughts to clear.

"You're ridiculous," you sigh and dig through your bag.

Retrieving the knock scroll, Gale scribed for you. Repeating the steps he told you to do, you mumbled the incantation, and soon enough, what was once a solid brick wall cracked open to reveal a hidden path.

"Told you I knew where I was going," you boast, sticking your tongue out childishly.

Astarion smirks, "Yes, a broken clock is right twice a day."

Scoffing, you shove him hard, causing him to take a few steps to correct his footing. The entrance leads to a broken-down ladder and a worn wooden hatch. Astarion steps up to pick the lock and lifts the hatch barely to survey the room. He pushes the trapdoor open and enters.

Following suit, you find yourself in a dusty broom closet. Astarion is already at the door to the hallway, a sliver of light pouring through the crack. Closing the trapdoor, you cross your arms and wait for Astarion to turn back to you.

"It's abandoned."

"Are you sure?"

Scoffing, Astarion doesn't answer. He pushes the door open and begins down the hall. You follow after him.

The small hideout is plainly decorated, the common room has a dingy sofa and a coffee table. The fireplace is dead; not even embers remain. Good. In the corner, there looks to be an unfinished game of cards. The faded carpet runner leads down the hall to a large ornate door.

Astarion is already opening the door by the time you reach him. By the looks of it, this is the boss's office. A large oak desk sat in the middle room. A plush chair pulled slightly away as if someone hadn't bothered to move it back. Bookshelves line the back wall.

"Secure the door," you say as you move to the window to the left of the door. You hear Astarion mumble something but don't quite catch his words.

The window is a short drop good for a quick escape if needed.

You move to the desk and begin rifling through the papers on the desk. Tax documents, random notes, crappy doodles, and a cringey love letter, but not what you're looking for. You rip open the first drawer. Nothing. Second drawer. Nothing. Third, nothing.

"Astarion, did you find anything?"

"Nothing important." His sultry voice is deep and so very close to your ear.

Your heart drops, but you suppress any other signs of distress, knowing that is exactly what he's looking for. Sighing In annoyance, you turn around to face Astarion and cross your arms over your chest.

"Are you even trying to look for the damn paper? We need to get what we're here for and get the fuck out!"

Astarion's mouth cracks into a cheeky grin, and he closes in on you. You back against the desk instinctually, reaching a hand up that lands on his firm chest. Astarion has you caged against the desk, each hand on either side of your hips. You know Astarion can hear the thrumming of your heart and the shaky inhalation of your breath, and you curse your body for betraying you.

He bends his head down to press his mouth against your ear. "What if I'm looking for something else?"

You freeze. What did he mea–

The thought is forgotten because he's slamming his lips onto yours. You gasp in surprise, and Astarion wastes no time, delving his tongue into your mouth and claiming it as his.

The slight metallic taste of blood that lingers on his tongue should repulse you but has you moaning desperately for more. You grip your fist tightly into the fabric of Astarion's armor. His body is flush against yours, but you need more. You scratch your nails up his neck and tangle your fingers into his hair. Astarion groans into your mouth, biting at your bottom lip.

Everything is hazy, and you're lost in the kiss. Your thoughts are slow to catch up with the situation, too consumed by the taste of his lips. Astarion's lips. Astarion.

You push him away, chest heaving in rapid breaths. "What are you doing?"

"I'd hope my intentions would be obvious by now." He grins and dives back to kiss down your neck, dragging his teeth against your skin. "I could be more obvious if that would clear things up."

A sharp bite of his mouth at your throat drags a choked gargle from your swollen lips. You feel dizzy from the scent of rosemary and bergamot invading your nose. Lightheaded from the sudden turn of events. Astarion presses a knee between your legs, applying firm pressure against your burning arousal.

Gods, what was he doing to you?

Needing to gain any form of control, you tug sharply at the roots of his silver curls, drawing a hiss from the man.

You finally manage to gasp out, "We hate each other." As if that would somehow clear up your raging thoughts.

Except, could you hate someone who is making you feel so good?

Cold fingers trail against the skin between your leather armor and trousers. Astarion's deft hands start pulling at the lace of your pants. Another wave of arousal warms your body, and you feel drunk on the pale elf.

"You say that, yet I don't think you want me to stop." He purrs, halting his movements, and meets your eyes. "Do you want me to stop?"

You shake your head, desperate for more. Your dignity couldn't live with letting Astarion reduce you to a begging mess. However, if you were honest with yourself, you're already halfway there. Reaching out, you grab for his belt.

Astarion was having none of that. He's quick to twirl you around and press your torso flush against the top of the desk. A stack of paper flies off and scatters to the ground, but neither of you put much care into it. Astarion grinds his front roughly against your ass, and you moan at the feeling of his hardening cock against you.

"No, no, no, my dear, use your words."

"Gods, are you always so fucking annoying?" You whine pressing back and rolling your ass against him. Astarion grunts, gripping your hips tightly. "Are you going to fuck me, or should I just take care of myself?"

Astarion groans, rocking against each roll of your hips. "There's my spitfire."

"I'm not yours."

Astarion tugs at your pants and underwear, pulling them over your rear and letting them pool around your ankles. You kick off your boots and free yourself, leaving your lower half bare to the open air. A shiver rushes up your spine as the cold air hits your dripping heat.

Astarion's slim fingers trail down your folds, and you bite your lips to stifle a cry. Tilting your head back, you see the rogue admiring the slick coating his fingers.

"You might not be mine, darling." Astarion slips his drenched fingers into his mouth, and you watch, mouth agape, as he swirls his tongue to clean each digit. "But who else has seen you bent over a desk looking as desperate and delicious as you do now?"

"I could name a few," you say cheekily, earning you a smack on the flesh of your backside.

Astarion gropes the reddened skin and bends down, blanketing you with his body. You feel the soft pants of his breath cascade over your neck as Astarion brings his lips to your ear.

"Then it seems I'm just going to have to ruin you for anyone else." Astarion practically growls and licks along the shell of your ear before taking the lobe in between his mouth and teasing it with his teeth. You don't recall hearing Astarion unclasp his belt, but when you feel his bare cock rub against your back, all you can do is arch your back and moan.

"Astarion," you part your legs more in silent invitation.

"Yes, my dear," His voice is smug as he rocks against you. He knows what you want but wants to hear you say it.

The head of his cock parts your folds and moves to tease your desperate clit; a collective moan fills the room, but it is not enough for either of you. And knowing that the two of you are currently in the middle of dangerous territory means there is no time to play.

"Stop being a prick and fuck me."

"Have I ever told you, you always have such a way with words." Astarion chuckles before plunging deep into your cunt.

A shaky cry leaves your lips, all air seemingly ripped from your lungs. Astarion is bigger than most men you've slept with prior - though you wouldn't dare voice that out loud in case it inflates his already-inflated ego. The stretch holds a delicious sting, and you feel the beginning of the burn of tears at the corner of your eyes.

Astarion's still his hips for a moment, letting you collect yourself. His thumbs are rubbing soothing circles into the small of your back and peppering kisses across your neck. Once the sting of his initial entrance simmers to a stirring heat, you tell him to move.

"Hells you're so tight." Astarion groans as he sets a teasing pace, dragging the rugged ridges of his cock out before plunging back in at the same agonizing pace.

A pace you could imagine sharing intimately with Astarion all night somewhere secluded. Perhaps your tent or an isolated clearing, not a random gang's currently empty hideout. And since you're not one to play nice, you decide to play with fire instead.

Pushing up on your elbows, you move your head to look back at Astarion, a playful smirk on your lips. "You say you're going to ruin me, but I think Gale could be doing a better job of it right now."

Astarion's body freezes just as you hoped he would react. He shoots you a look full of daggers and bares his teeth in annoyance. Without comprehending entirely what's happening, Astarion pulls out of you and, with a strength you have not seen from the Vampire (the same Vampire who asks others on multiple occasions to carry his pack because it's too heavy), flips you over and has you seated firmly back on the desk leaving you dizzy but feeling giddy as a schoolgirl.

"Oh darling, you're going to regret that."

Astarion rams back into your pussy and begins to thrust quick and brutally deep into your body. His cold hand is wrapped around your throat, holding it firmly enough to keep your eyes locked onto him.

Your legs link around his lean hips, pulling him deeper into you. Moaning desperately, you run one of your hands up under his leather armor, splaying it across his stomach. You grab his face and pull him into a kiss, all tongue and teeth and perfection.

The desk is groaning under the movement of your bodies. Random knick-knacks are clanging to the floor. A bottle of whiskey shatters, and the pungent aroma wafts into the air, mingling with the scent of sweat and slick.

"You and that mouth of yours." He breathes deep into your ear. "Always so confident, so snarky, so bratty."

"M-more…" you choke, clenching around his length, desperate for anything and everything he will give you.

"Do you think the wizard could handle you?" The hand not firmly holding your neck snakes between your legs and begins to play with your clit.

"Gods A-star.." You gasp, eyes rolling back.

"Could he or anyone else make you feel this good?" Astarion's hand tightens slightly against your neck, and the lack of oxygen leaves you feeling dizzy and euphoric.

"N-no…please."

"After me, no one will ever be able to satisfy you." His thumb is now rubbing fast, tight circles against your clit. "Fuck, that's it, squeeze me just like that."

Gripping onto the desk, you shift your hips, and Astarion is now hitting deeper into your abused cunt. You tighten your legs around his waist, urging him to go faster. That delicious coil is beginning to burn deep in your stomach, and you know you won't last much longer.

"Tell me, who's making you feel this good," Astarion demands, voice husky.

"Y-you,"

"And when you come on my cock, I want you to scream my name." He grunts, and the thrust of his hips is beginning to become sloppier. "I want to hear just how good I make you feel."

Everything is too much. Astarion's sinful words, the harsh thrust of his hips combined with the tight circles of his thumb on your clit, the musky smell of Astarion's sweat mingling with yours, and the intense fragrance of the spilled whiskey.

You don't remember the details, just the wave of euphoria as the coil snaps and your orgasm washes over you. The words that spill from your lips hold no meaning in your clouded mind. The only thing that holds context is the feeling of Astarion stuttering thrusts of his hips as he chases his release from your spent body.

And when he stills, and the world falls silent apart for your combined pants of breath, all you do is brush the curls off his forehead and kiss his cheek. Why? You're not sure, but that's something you'll ask yourself later.

Once you return to relatively normal breathing, Astarion moves from his slumped position against your body. He stares at you in astonishment.

"Well, that happened." You offer because what else were you supposed to say?

Astarion breaks out into a genuine laugh, full belly and joyful as he tucks himself away. You couldn't help but join in as you move to put your clothes on.

"Yes, my sweet, I suppose that did happen."

"So where-"

The two of you jump at a commotion coming from the hall. Someone is jingling the doorknob, trying to open it; when it doesn't budge, there is a loud bang followed by an even louder shout of anger.

"Fuck!" You quickly finish tying your boots and collect your gear.

"Seems like our friends are back from their trip. I believe it's time to go." Astarion says as he moves to the window and opens it. Without waiting for you to respond, he gives you a devilish smirk and jumps out.

"Shit, the paper." You sigh, knowing you'll never hear the end of it.

By the time you make it to the window, the door is being busted in, and a very angry-looking dwarf is storming into the room. You smile at him and give him a salute before diving out the window, knowing Astarion will be there to catch you.

***Later at camp***

"What do you mean you didn't get the document?" Gale yells, the others equally baffled by you and Astarion's failure. "That was the only thing you needed to get!"

You shrink in on yourself looking to Astarion for help. "I...I don"

Astarion rolls his eyes. "Stealing objects from heavily populated hideouts is harder than you might think, wizard."

"That's why we sent you two!"

"Then perhaps next time-"

"HOLY SHIT!" Karlach interrupts, drawing everyone's attention. She's pointing straight at you with a look of bafflement. "Soldier's got a fucking hickey."

You clamp a hand over the spot Astarion was biting at earlier, wishing for the ground to swallow you whole.

Shadowheart's face scrunches up in disgust. "Please don't tell me, we're not getting paid because you two idiots decided to fuck?"

"Darling, it would seem the cat's out of the bag." The bastard has the audacity to look proud.

"I hate you all." You groan and storm off to your tent, contemplating just how bad it would be to join the Absolute.

Feedback always makes my day so let me know what you guys thought. And if you're looking for something sweet to balance out the spice check out my last post right here.

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itadorey · 5 months

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𝐑𝐔𝐌𝐎𝐑 𝐇𝐀𝐒 𝐈𝐓— gojo satoru

pairing: gojo satoru x gn reader summary: rumor has it you're dating gojo satoru genre: fluff, friends to lovers, misunderstandings, humor(?) notes: i just think he's the type of dude to do this, sort of an au bc geto never goes rogue. HAPPY BIRTHDAY GOJO !! wc: ~1.8k

"hey, wanna go get lunch?"

you come to a stop when you hear a low voice, turning around just in time to see gojo approach you. his hair is styled, you note, white strands falling gracefully and framing his face in a way that you haven't seen since the two of you were in high school. his usual blindfold is nowhere to be seen, and your eyebrows furrow slightly when you notice a new pair of sunglasses perched on the slope of his nose.

"what?"

"do you want to join me for lunch?" he asks, leaning against the wall as you glance at the time on your phone. you tuck it back into your pocket before looking at the folder in your hand, turning to glance in the direction of your office before giving gojo a nod.

"sure! just let me drop this off in my office, yeah?" you say, smiling when he nods in agreement. "i'll be quick and on the way back i'll stop and ask shoko if she wants to join us."

you whirl back around to make your way to your office, only to be stopped when gojo clears his throat.

"actually, i meant you," he begins, shoulders tense as he motions to you with his hand before pointing to himself. "and me. just us getting lunch at that cafe you really like."

"oh! okay, yeah that sounds good," you chirp, feeling slightly confused as you give him a little thumbs up. he relaxes at your words, nodding slightly as he watches you. "i'll be right back and than we can head out!"

gojo's eyes never leave your form as you disappear down the walkway, and he takes a few deep breathes before turning around and slipping his phone out of his pocket before sending a text to shoko and suguru.

satoru: they said yes.

lunch at the cafe ends with you and gojo meeting up at the end of the day and getting dinner as well. it isn't until you're out of breath, laughing way too hard over a silly story gojo shares with you, that you realize that the two of you haven't hung out together in a long time.

high school is probably the last time you can recall going out with gojo alone. the difference in your skill levels meant that the two of you didn't really cross paths after graduating, especially with the way that gojo always seemed to be sent out on mission after mission by the higher ups. any and all hangouts were usually coordinated by shoko or suguru, and most of the time gojo wasn't able to have a full conversation with you due to having to take care of a more-than-tipsy suguru.

you can't help but focus on the way your heart seems to ache with longing as you watch gojo laugh along with you, and it's in that moment that you realize that you've missed the teasing, smug boy that you knew well before life became just a little bit more cruel. the way he looks at you after your laughter dies down makes you wonder if he missed you as well.

"here's your check!"

"oh, thank you," you say to the waiter, reaching over to grab the slim book. gojo's hand intercepts your path, snatching the check presents away before you can even attempt to stop him. "hey!"

"dinner's on me," he says with a grin, sliding his card into the clear sleeve before handing it back to the waiter. your eyes remain locked on gojo even as the waiter walks away, a scowl on your face as you stare him down.

"you paid for lunch," you state, your eyes darting down to his lips when they pull up into a slight smirk.

"yeah."

"so dinner was supposed to be on me," you argue, clamping your mouth shut when the waiter returns with gojo's card. he takes it from him with a smile, messily signing the receipt before sliding out of his seat. his lips part into a handsome grin as he holds an arm out to you, eyes sparkling as he waits for you to link your arm with his. you rise from your seat reluctantly, gingerly slipping your hand into the crook of his elbow and letting him lead you outside.

it isn't until he's holding the door open for you, watching as you cross the threshold, that he finally speaks once more, tilting his face down to let you catch a glimpse of the teasing glint in his eye.

"besides, what kind of date would i be if i let you pay?"

gojo seems to become a permanent fixture in your life after your shared lunch and dinner.

you can't find it in yourself to complain about the new development, especially not when you're standing in your kitchen and you feel gojo's hand press against your lower back as he squeezes past you, giving you a soft smile as he tries to steal a bite of whatever you're cooking. those nights usually end with you swatting at him until you push him out of the kitchen, rolling your eyes and ignoring the way your heart lurches when he wraps his arms around you in a loose hug in an attempt to tug you along with him.

hangouts with shoko and suguru also become more common, and the four of you often find yourselves meeting up for drinks or a movie night, sometimes joined by nanami when he deigns to grace you with his presence. it's during these times that your emotions get the best of you, seeing everyone talking and laughing so happily that it almost feels like nothing ever went wrong. like amanai riko and fushiguro toji never happened.

and when gojo notices your sudden quietness and wordlessly wraps an arm around your shoulders to tuck you close to his side, you feel yourself falling just a little bit more for the white-haired sorcerer.

you're not surprised to find out that somewhere along the way, you've fallen for gojo satoru. a part of you believes that it was inevitable; he's always shone so brightly, drawing people in regardless of whether or not they're aware of the fact. you just happen to be the latest victim.

although your heart yearns to be closer to him, you know that you're content with being nothing more than friends. satoru is someone who is easy to admire, and you're all too happy to admire from a distance, content to bask in the tenderness that accompanies every friendly moment you've shared with him thus far. his status as a special grade sorcerer also takes up a large portion his life, and you fear that attempting to be anything more than friends with him would only end in you being a distraction.

but that all changes three months after the dinner with satoru that started it all.

"you're both late."

"sorry about that!" you apologize, giving shoko a sheepish smile as you slide into the seat satoru had pulled out for you. his knee bumps against your thigh as he takes his own seat, and you feel your smile grow a little wider when he leaves it resting against your own.

"what? were the two of you too busy making out in his car or something?" suguru chimes in, stifling a laugh when he sees your eyes go wide. you don't get the chance to respond as the waiter approaches, and you're saved the embarrassment of attempting to stutter out your drink order when satoru butts in and says it for you.

suguru wiggles his eyebrows playfully as you give him a flat look, and your mild annoyance dissipated when you feel satoru take your hand in his as he begins to play with your fingers. easy conversation begins to flow, and before you know it, you're enjoying your favorite drink and teasing suguru for the things he drunkenly did at your last get-together.

"so," shoko begins once there's a lull in the conversation, eyes glinting mischievously as she lets her gaze flit between you and satoru. "now that it's been a couple months i gotta say, i didn't think satoru would ever actually work up the courage to ask you out to lunch."

"what do you mean?" you ask, missing the way satoru's hand freezes against yours.

"i just didn't think he'd actually go through with it," shoko says with a shrug. "but i gotta say, i'm glad the two of you are dating. you both seem a lot happier lately and it's nice to see."

"dating?" you ask, tensing up at her words. the entire table seems to freeze at your question, and you're met with confused expressions from everyone as you glance around the table.

"yeah," shoko answers cautiously, sharing a bewildered look with suguru.

"what?" you ask dumbly, blinking slowly before turning to satoru just in time to see him nodding. "since when."

"since," shoko says, pulling out her phone and scrolling through some messages. she hums when she finds what she's looking for, turning the screen to show you a message from satoru three months back saying "they said yes". "three months ago according to this text."

"what?" you repeat, shaking your head lightly to try and gather your thoughts.

"yeah," satoru says quietly, a soft laugh leaving his lips as he lets go of your hand. "i asked you out on a date."

"no, you didn't," you say in response, turning your body to face him.

"yes, i did," he insists, running a hand through his hair before pointing to shoko's phone. "three months ago. lunch at the cafe, remember?"

"you asked me to eat lunch with you. you never said it was a date!"

"oh, i didn't?" he asks, head tilting slightly to the side as he tries to remember.

"no!"

"oops!"

"what do you mean 'oops!'," you hiss, leaning back in your seat as you cross your arms. "this entire time i've been dealing with my feelings for you only to find out that you've been telling people we've been together this entire time!"

"well is it too late to ask you to accept all our hangouts these past few months as dates?" he asks cheekily, grinning at your confession. you huff at his words, softening slightly when he leans forward to rest his head against your shoulder. "please?"

"fine," you mutter, squeaking when he leans up to press a kiss to your cheek. the laughs from shoko and suguru remind you that the two of you aren't alone, and you feel your cheeks heat up when the realization that they've witnessed everything hits.

"well," you start, raising your gaze to finally address shoko's original comment about your (new?) relationship. your breath catches in your throat when satoru lifts your joined hands, pressing a kiss to your knuckles and earning a smug smile from suguru. "i gotta say, i'm also very glad that the two of us are dating."

satoru snorts at your words, and you roll your eyes as he lets go of your hand to wrap his arm around you. his gaze doesn't leave you as he speaks, even though his words are also in response to shoko.

"yeah, i'm definitely happier."

reblogs are appreciated <3 ty for reading!!

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nerdpoe · 8 months

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Danny decides to open a haunted house for Halloween-in Gotham. For kicks. He reserves the opening night for the Bats and only the Bats. The Bats do not have a choice in this.

They all wake up in the haunted house.

Their rogues, who had big plans, also wake up in the haunted house-but they don't get the toned down spooky version Danny's working on for potential customers that he's doing a test-run with via Bat testers.

No, the Rogues are locked in the basement with the ghosts of everyone they've killed.

Danny's got Tucker running the cameras, Sam helping coordinate the Ghosts, and Danny himself is running the actual spooky bits.

In theory, it's the perfect haunted house.

The best way to test it though, he feels, is against heroes that face scary things every day.

So.

Red Hood walking down a hallway, sees feet dangling from the ceiling. But there's a convenient beam blocking their view, so he strides up just as the feet vanish-and that's a solid wooden ceiling.

There's a note with a smiley face.

"Please rate your haunting experience on a scale of one to ten! :)"

Robin sees a shadow, and he chases it. And chases it. And chases it. And foolishly he somehow manages to let it lead him to a dead end-only when he turns around, the shadow is in the door.

And it's just a being made of pure shadow, with elongated limbs, breathing with a horrible wet rasp as it stares down at him.

Then it disappears.

In it's place, there's a note.

"Please rate your haunting experience on a scale of one to ten! :)"

Red Robin hears Batman call out for him to look something over, so he goes into the room.

Batman isn't there.

Batman's voice whispers in his ear from behind.

"Never thought you'd fall for that~"

The door slams shut.

Red Robin turns to open it, but it won't open. Not even if he picks the lock.

The floor creaks, and when he turns around he sees Batman standing right there-only for him to dissolve piece by piece.

In the puddle of weird green goo, there's a note.

"Please rate your haunting experience on a scale of one to ten! :)"

Bruce is in what looks like a child's room.

The temperature drops, and he braces for a supernatural event, because this is clearly what's going on.

The air stands still-and every single toy's head snaps to look at him.

They open their mouths and scream, green goo gargling up and spilling out of their lips.

The lights cut out, then they come back on; and the toys are all arranged around him in a peculiar pattern.

There's a note at his feet.

His lips quirk up against his will.

"Please rate your haunting experience on a scale of one to ten! :)"

Nightwing knows he's being fucked with.

He knows it.

He recognizes the room he's in-it was in the pamphlet for the new haunted house opening in Gotham. He'd really wanted to go, actually, but he was kinda sad he didn't have anyone with him.

He wanted it to be a family outing.

But from what it looks like, this is probably a test run. No ones emergency beacons have gone off, and there's only swearing in the comms cut through with mild amusement on Bruce's part.

Ugh, he doesn't want spoilers! He wants to go through it for the first time with everyone else!

"Hey, um, I was actually planning to come here with my family! I don't really want to be spoiled on anything, so can I skip this? And can I have anyone you haven't tested it on skip it too? Cuz they're probably friends or family and I want to be on the same knowledge level of what to expect."

The air itself seems to pause.

"Ah, shit, I'm sorry man. I didn't even think of that; I'll pull Spoiler and Signal before we start their runs."

Nightwing turns towards the intercom and waves cheerfully.

"I mean, we'd definitely be down to walk through the house tonight, but I want to do it in a group so we can laugh at each other."

"Oh, for sure, I just got too caught up in the 'creepy' part of the haunted house. The exit is hidden in the wall to your left, just pick up the rotary phone and it should pop out."

"Alright, I'll be waiting for them at the front!"

@simplestoryteller

#dpxdc #dcxdp #dp x dc #dc x dp #story prompt #phanfic #danny and co own and run a year-long haunted house in gotham #rogues are afraid to go anywhere near it #it becomes the most successful haunted house in the usa #it actually creates a tourism factor for gotham besides people wanting to see the “most crime ridden city ever”#danny and dick get along great #and after things settle he works with the bats (without knowing their civvie identities) to make it better #bruce is highly amused by the whole thing #the fact that during halloween it's basically gotham rogue daycare really helps with that #long post #ficlet

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kettlefire · 7 months

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Booo-merang Trouble DP x DC Idea

Okay but leeching off the idea that Jason gives off an ecto-signature, and I probably saw a post about this somewhere. I just for the love of me can't find it. If anyone knows it, please link it so I can credit!:

Jason isn't even on patrol, he's visiting the manor. His chilling, eating away at lunch. He doesn't come to the manor often, but he always needs a dose of his crazy family every once in a while. There's no way he'd stay away from Alred's cookies for long.

Then boom, something shatters the window behind him. On instinct, Jason moves. Taking cover and trying to get a sight of the situation. Of the perceived attack. However, before Jason could do much a heavy object rams into his chest before landing on the ground before him. It doesn't really hurt, nothing compared to his prior injuries.

A boomerang. A glowing green and silver boomerang laid on the ground before him. Jason's a million and one ways confused as he stared at the device. His hands carefully picking it up, and looking over the softly beeping device.

Jason thinks maybe it's a bomb, but something in his gut says otherwise. He can think of a million different things it could be. Maybe one of the rogues got a hold of their DNA, and it tracked them. Maybe it's going to expel a gas any moment, an attack on the Waynes rather than their vigilante personas.

Except it's none of that. The beeping stops and suddenly a robotic voice sounds from the boomerang.

"Ghost located, prepare for your end ghoul."

Jason tenses once again at the clear threat in those words. His gaze scans around the kitchen, still crouched behind the kitchen counter. Except nothing happens.

Except for a voice ringing out from the boomerang once again. This time, this time it's not a robot. It's a clear record of a young woman speaking. Her voice filled with fear, concern, and urgency.

"Okay, this should work right? You know what, that doesn't matter. No one but you should have a signature. Beside's Tucker thinks he set this up to go to you only. So Danny, you should be hearing this..."

Jason only finds himself more confused. The urgency in this girl's voice was enough to keep his nerves on edge. It sounded important, but Jason had no clue who these people are. Who these names could be refering to.

"Danny... Things here aren't doing to good. Look, I know why you left. You have every reason to. What mom and dad did... It's unforgivable and I don't expect you to come back. But, thing is..."

There's a lull in the recording. The distant sound of soft chatting. If Jason strained his ears, he could somewhat pick of the sound of another woman and man.

"Everyone thinks Phantom is dead. Which I would think is a good thing, but it's not. Danny, the GIW is on a rampage now that you aren't here. Mom and dad are on their side..."

Jason made the conclusion that the speaker was this Danny's sister. The message was intended for him, yet it somehow landed in Jason's lap.

"They have everyone locked up in the school... Radars to see if anyone has a signature, and if they do... They separate them from everyone else."

Jason's brows furrowed, finally pulling himself to a stand. He placed the boomerang on the kitchen counter. Leaning forward as he took in the words.

"We don't know what they are doing. Sam, Tucker, and Valerie... We're all hiding. We'll have the highest signatures, and... Listen Danny..."

Jason had a growing pit in his gut. He knew something wasn't right. These people were in danger. It didn't matter he didn't know about what, or who the GIW was, but these people needed help.

"... We need you. We need Phantom, baby bro. I'm sorry, I know you're still recovering. We can handle things here, but please. Please tell me you're still alive, you're in Gotham right? Tell me you're safe, and you're healing and still kicking Danny."

Jason swallowed, placing his hands flat on the kitchen counter. He needed to get this down to the cave. Have the computer tracked where it came from. But Jason couldn't move, not at the sound of pure desperation in this woman's voice.

"I just need to know you at least made it out of this nightmare. I don't care how you do it, just please let me know things are okay... They have... They have Vlad, Danny. Things are complicated, and I hate to put this on you... But Amity needs Phantom..."

The recorded suddenly broke into static, but Jason thinks he got enough of what he needed. Amity. The place these people were was called Amity. It gave him a lead, something for them to work with.

"Da... We... Help... They..."

Jason could hear the woman's voice breaking through the static. He gripped the boomerang, turning on his heels and heading towards the cave.

"Sam... Mom... Tech... I..."

Every broken word only fueled Jason's own urgency. Jason felt a strange urge, a connection. Something that told him he had to help. They needed to help. The boomerang found him, and that had to mean something.

"... I love you, Danny..."

Those four words were the clearest compared to rhe rest of it. It made Jason's heart seize, and he took a breath. He was going to help.

It didn't matter if Jason didn't know these people. If they weren't from Gotham. This was important, and something told Jason he needed to find this Danny.

Danny would be the only one that would know that to do. If Jason manages to rewind the recording, he was certain Bruce would be equally on board.

That voice, the emotions that dripped from it. It gave the sense that this wasn't just life or death. This was a world ending problem.

And Jason would be damned if he ignored it.

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sytoran · 7 months

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𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟎𝟎𝟐 — 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐉𝐎𝐁

kinktober day 002 | secretary!natalie rushman x ceo!reader

natasha's mission to retrieve a thumbdrive file involves seducing a high-ranking executive, and the seduction goes smoothly. a little too well, in fact, that she doesn't notice you're not all you seem to be.

cont. reader has a cock, power play, begging

word count. 1869

kinktober masterlist || main masterlist

To Natasha, you were nothing more than just another target.

She was an unfathomably, dangerously-skilled assassin, feared across nations and intelligence bureaucracies. She was a Red Room widow gone rogue, taking things in her own stride and shifting the world upside down as she pleased. Renowned political figures and billionaire executives were dropping like flies, and you, were no different.

This time, Natasha Romanoff was going undercover as Natalie Rushman.

It had been embarrassingly easy for her to infiltrate security and create a false persona for herself. Climbing up the ranks of a corporate business like this one had been more time-consuming, sure, spanning over a few months, but Natalie would reap what she sow.

Chief Executive Officer Y/N L/N was all-too-easy to fool, even more gullible than the other targets Natasha had preyed upon.

All it took was the classic seduction: bending over to ‘pick up a pen’, coincidentally right in your field of vision, clinging onto your arm and looking up with wide doe eyes while you talked, giggling shyly when you made a joke and tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.

In the end, all her targets got caught up in the Widow’s Web. You were rendered useless and completely at Natasha’s mercy, waiting to be preyed upon for manipulation and her own personal gain.

Or at least, that’s what you let her think.

“Fuck, baby,” you cursed, eyes screwed shut as your secretary bobbed her head up and down the girthy length of your cock, lewd noises escaping both your lips.

Natalie looked up at you through glossy eyes, bottle-red lipstick smeared but unarguably pretty, batting her eyelashes every so often. It had only taken a week of flirting before you took her home, your actions seemingly foolish.

“Take it all down your throat, Natalie, fuck,” you said breathily, hands tugging onto her hair as you chased your own high. Natasha almost choked on the length in her mouth at the fast pace you had set, but she quickly hollowed out her cheeks to engulf your wet heat once more.

Shit, it had been a while since Natasha had gotten such a thick cock, above average in length, too. Normally, these high-ranking executives had disappointingly miniscule excuses of a member, but this was thrillingly different.

Still, Natasha couldn’t forget why she had made all this effort to get to your house.

“Fuck, babe, you’re too good at this,” you comment breathlessly, chest heaving as you come down from your high. “Bedroom?”

To speed up the process, Natasha finished you off with her hands working on the base of your cock, calculated squeezes and strokes that had you jerking your hips up as you toppled over the edge. Jets of hot white come went down Natasha’s throat, as she greedily sucked and swallowed.

Tastes fucking good too, she thought. Maybe this won’t be so bad.

Natasha had to refrain from rolling her eyes. What you wanted was predictable, to have your cock inside her. She wanted something different, though. It was why she had embarked on this mission in the first place.

“Can we go to your office?” Natasha asks instead, never failing to load up on that sultry tone that had people falling to their knees. She licks her lips drenched in your seed, kissing her way up your unbuttoned shirt as she rises to her feet. Her navigation of your surprisingly well-built body ends at the column of your neck.

Calculatedly, Natasha presses her slick lips to the hot skin of your neck, her residual lipstick making an enviable mark there.

“I want you to bend me over your office desk.”

Natasha can’t help but smirk at your affected reaction. You hastily lift your secretary up by the back of her thighs, letting her hook her legs around your torso. A sloppy kiss kickstarts your burning need to meet her needs.

Of course, the sole reason why Natasha wanted to go to your office was to retrieve a very important thumb drive that was stored there. As you were the CEO of an incredibly powerful corporate firm, being able to have that kind of information meant a wealth of power, influence, and information.

There isn’t a doubt of the sinful possibilities floating through your mind right now, as you single-handedly unclasp her bra and rid of her remaining garments, as you stumble your way over to your office.

Everything was going according to Natasha's plan.

As if on cue, you kick open the door of your office and ungracefully deposit Natasha onto your desk. The way you’re manhandling her is arguably hot, and when you trail kisses down the back of Natasha’s neck, she quite nearly forgets what she came here to do.

“Need you inside me, now,” Natasha growls out, because she needs to get this operation going. What scares her for a moment is that her statement isn’t entirely untrue, because you were evidently more skilled than any of her previous counterparts and she so craved release.

You certainly don’t disappoint in that aspect, forcefully bending Natasha over the desk as she wished, then painstakingly slowly dragging her skirt down with your teeth.

“Fuck,” Natasha doesn’t mean to whimper when your cock slides between her wet folds, collecting slick arousal with that huge shaft, but she does whimper, and you let out a low noise from your chest.

As you’re busy getting your cock lubricated enough to enter her, Natasha seizes this opportune moment of your distraction to slides her hand over the desk to where your laptop was, unplugging the thumbdrive just as you speak up again.

“You’re fucking naughty, hm?” you growl, and Natasha freezes.

The fear envelops her whole, before Natasha realizes that you’ve remained blissfully oblivious to her actions and were trapped in the haze of sex.

“You’re fuckin’ naughty, wanting me to bend you over my table like that. Beg for my cock, and maybe I’ll let you use it.”

Natasha gulps, not understanding why she’s threatening to start drooling onto your desk, her body building up so much slick.

She’s the Black Widow, for fuck’s sakes, and she bowed down to no one. She was in control, dictating the decisions that crafted this very situation, hooking you around her pretty little finger.

After all, she had already retrieved the thumb drive. Her mission was already over, already completed. She had no reason to stay. She could knock you out cold in a matter of mere seconds, so why was she so hesitant?

Your grip hardens at her disobedience, and Natasha can’t help the whine that tumbles out when you pull your cock way from her wet heat.

“You want it, hm? Then beg for it,” you repeat, dangerously close to Natasha’s ear, raising goosebumps with your hot breath brushing the surface of her skin.

Natasha wails when you push her back into the desk, pebbled nipples pressing into the cold glass. She’s clenching around nothing, wet walls fluttering emptily, slick arousal dripping down her thighs.

Suddenly, you bring your hand up and harshly slap Natasha’s ass. The moan she lets out is downright pornographic, high-pitched and long-lasting as a red blush blossoms on her rounded ass, the pain stinging her skin and pricking tears behind her eyes.

It’s been so long, her body screams at her. You need this. Need to be fucked, need to be used.

“Beg for it.”

“Please! Need your cock, please,” Natasha babbles, finally, giving in to your urges. When you thrust your whole length down her tight pussy, all in one go, Natasha almost falls apart instantly.

You thrust up into her, hard, thick length pushing past her slick walls. If Natasha thought you were big before, with your cock in her mouth, now she knew you were fucking huge.

It isn’t long before you’re fucking into her with an animalistic nature, skin slapping against skin with dirty, lewd noises. “Can’t take the size, baby?” you question dryly, pulling on her hair as Natasha drools onto your desk.

Your cock is hitting her cervix with almost every thrust. The pleasure not only stems from the fact that you were the biggest she had ever taken, but also from your sheer skill.

Natasha’s first orgasm of the night comes in a tidal wave. It’s like water breaking through a dam, hitting her with a strength she didn’t know her body possessed. Her walls flutter around your girthy cock as she squirts.

“Oh, Y/N!” Sinful moans of your name fall from Natasha’s lips as you thrust even deeper than she thought imaginable.

In other words, that was only the beginning of the rollercoaster-esque high you would bring Natasha to.

***

Natasha awakes with groggy eyes. There’s a warm, muscled forearm splayed over her torso, and it takes a fraction of a second before Natasha remembers it’s you.

“Shit,” she whispers, looking out of the window at the rising sun. She was supposed to leave your house last night, but the events had gotten more than out of hand.

The ache in Natasha’s legs and back is a blaring reminder of that fact. The image of sweaty, slick bodies moving together in a darkened room flashes across Natasha’s mind, and she has the decency to flush a pink-red.

Checking again for the thumbdrive in her strewn clothes, Natasha nods to herself assuredly and gets herself together to make an exit. Her eyes float to your sleeping figure. Looks like she had worn you out.

“You’re kinda stupid, but you were a good fuck,” she whispers with a tilted head.

As soon as the front door of your house clicks shut, you sit up slowly, letting the blanket slide over your toned abdominal muscles and down to your waistline.

“Just a good fuck?” you ask amusedly. “Squirting three times in a row seems better than good, if I do say so myself.” Relaxed, you reach over to your bedside and take your phone.

Dialling in a number that you’d memorised by heart, the receiver picks up in less than two rings. “You’re fuckin’ late,” a gruff voice sounds out. “What did we tell you about not fucking the targets for the whole bloody night?”

You scoff in half-annoyance and amusement. As long as you got the job done, your bosses didn’t have any reason to question your methods. "You’re just jealous you didn’t get a taste of that sweet pussy,” you drawl out contedly, delighting in the aggravated huff that crackles over the line.

“Don’t get your panties in a twist,” you continue, your face taking on a more serious expression. “The Widow left my house thirty seconds ago, with the false thumb drive."

"Details?"

"Swapped it out while she was cumming on my cock, sir."

"......Microchip tracking device?"

"Implanted in the top button of her blouse."

"Audio recorder?"

"In the hem of her very scandalous skirt.”

There is a pause on the line, but you know not to fear. When a low chuckle is emitted from the other end, you can’t help but smirk in smug satisfaction. The next words you hear are almost as sweet as Natasha’s moans of your name.

"Well done, Agent. Your mission is complete."

if you liked this, please give it a reblog! it means the absolute world to me <3

kinktober masterlist || main masterlist

#sytoran's kinktober 2023 #kinktober #kinktober fic #kinktober 2023 #natasha romanoff x reader smut #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff smut #natalie rushman #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you smut #natasha romanoff x y/n #natasha x reader smut #natasha x reader #wlw smut #gxg smut #sub natasha romanoff #bottom natasha romanoff #top reader #dom reader

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nanaminsmoon · 7 months

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e.jaegar x shynailtech!reader. mdni. 18+

wc: 1761.

a/n: the girlies wanted another eren fic and i need to clear my drafts so here we are😁

eren had ended up on your doorstep, hands in his pockets and checking his shoes, via a trusty recommendation courtesy of mikasa. being arguably your best and most loyal client, mikasa had notified you about his visit a week before your appointment. but, though you had been expecting the brunette, you hadn’t expected him to be as good-looking as he was; brown locks in a loose bun, grey tech under his black moncler coat and white af1s on his feet. and his good looks weren’t the only thing she had failed to mention, because eren seemingly had a staring problem.

those jades hadn’t left you since eren had crossed the threshold separating your studio and the outside world. it was hard not to notice, because he was practically burning two holes into the top of your head as you worked. yet you wouldn’t mention it, because you assumed it was due to novelty. because, as put-together as he was—well-groomed, and smelling of a knee-weakening herby mix of woody cologne and faint weed—it was very much possible that it was his first time getting his nails done. so it was only natural for him to thoroughly assess his surroundings, as well as the people in it. it just so happened that, unluckily for you, you were the only person in those surroundings.

while most clients would pull their phones out, some even going as far as to put their airpods in while making small conversation, eren found all his entertainment in you; your steady breathing as you poured all your attention into your craft, the way you’d pull back from his fingertips and ask him for his approval, and the way his calloused hands felt in your delicate ones. their grip was firm, yet very gentle, and he felt sick for even imagining how they’d feel wrapped around his dick. just two seconds of quiet was enough time for his brain to generate different versions of one particular image: those nails of yours, that he figured you had done yourself, decorating his hard length—your thumb occasionally swiping over his leaking tip. though just a daydream, the feeling was so visceral that a small shudder travelled down his spine, forcing a deep breath to leave eren’s mouth without his permission. and that would be the thing to make him shake himself out of his reveries before you noticed.

“you’re good at this. i see why mikasa is here all the time”, he'd comment, and your small laugh would be covered by the back of your hand as you muttered out a timid ‘thanks’. and though he tried to fight it, those perverse thoughts he had quelled rose back again because of that simple reaction.

‘curiosity’ was the name of the debauched hand twisting every single one of eren’s thoughts, and its fuel was the question of how far your shy demeanour extended. during the few moments his eyes weren’t locked on you, they would be fixed on a random spot in the room as he entertained the idea of burying your hard work deep inside of you—slender digits moving in and out of you with haste, as his other hand rested on the back of your neck to pull your lips onto his. eren pondered whether or not your hand would still cover your mouth even as he curled his fingers in a way that made your back arch off your work chair. would that coy act still try to override the fact that your walls told him what your abashed mouth refused to say? and, as his arousal made him shift in his chair, eren’s mind couldn’t help but ask him if you'd grab onto his arm as your lips told him it was too much, but your eyes pleaded for him to keep going. luckily for his inquisitive mind, eren would soon find the answers to all his questions.

“but you can take it, can't you ma?”, eren’s breath slid past the shell of your ear as he spoke into it. his words reeked of artificial sympathy, because there was not an ounce of pity in his digits as they pumped in and out of you—a rogue thumb even moving to rub at your clit.

most people would be bothered by someone staring them, many would even ask them what their problem was, but you had remained silent—knees pushed together as you tried to soothe the effects of eren’s glare, underneath the table. even when he’d move a little closer, purposely making sure you were aware that it was you he was looking at and not whatever was being illuminated by the bright led lights on your table, all you’d do was push your head further down to narrow your vision on the task at hand—making eren scoff in amusement.

“y'know...”, he'd finally speak up, to no proper response, “it's okay to come up for air every once in a while”, eren would remark and, from where he was looking, he’d see your eyebrows crease in confusion.

“you ain't gotta be scareda me. eye contact is good. customer service and whatnot”, he’d shrug, and you’d nod back. and that’s all you could do. because everything he was saying was right; his glower had burned through you, leaving behind a cowardly pile of ashes.

“yeah, but i gotta do my job. so i kinda have to look at ‘em”, you’d explain.

“the nails are fine.”, he'd quip, pulling his hand from your grasp to leave you just staring at the table, “and so are you. so lemme see your face”, he'd say, and you'd freeze.

“need me to ask you again, or do i gotta move you myself?”, he'd ask with a sly smirk, that you’d only see when you faced him. once he could meet your shaking eyes, he'd sigh in contentment,

“there she is”, he'd joke.

and now she was about to cum on his fingers so he'd quickly pull them out of you, earning him a look of aroused outrage from yourself.

“think imma do allat and not see how this pussy feel?”, a light chuckle carried eren’s question out of his mouth, and his hands would be preoccupied with pulling his joggers and boxers down. eren wanted all that shyness gone, so he'd get you to take the initiative and move yourself back on him—fucking yourself on his dick, with your hard work sandwiched between your tongue and the roof of your mouth as you sucked all the arousal off his middle fingers. it only took a few minutes, but the shy woman he had met had all but disappeared as soon as eren's dick had entered her, and that amused him. maybe you had been shy because you feared looking at him would lead you to this very position, and you weren't ready to face that reality. but eren had enough courage for the both of you; he had been brave on your behalf, so you could get to the point where his dick was so deep inside you, he was making your legs shake,

“eren, i’m cumming”, you spoke out quietly, and he grabbed your jaw and turned you to face him.

“i can’t hear you. say it again”, he ordered through clenched teeth, and you whined, “just speak up for me, ma”, he kissed your cheek.

“i’m cumming, eren”, you said louder, and he’d smile to himself before holding onto you and fucking into you himself. you came almost instantaneously, your voice the loudest he’d heard you. there weren’t many words you could string together because your brain was too busy trying to will your limbs to keep you upright. but it would be enough encouragement for eren, and it’d move his hips faster as he continued fucking into you.

the feeling of you tightening around him had switched your roles; it had rendered eren speechless, while you were straining your vocal cords to tell him how good he felt—all the while, neglecting the fact that you were about to snap a fingernail with how hard you were gripping onto your work surface. if his curling toes didn’t have him busy fighting a foot cramp, eren might’ve had time to be surprised by the fact that you cut him off as he was about to speak.

“nut in it, eren”, you’d plead with him, and your words must’ve skipped over his ears and gone straight to his dick, because those five syllables would be enough for him to still and fill you with his seed—his lips connected to your neck to barely stifle his moans. there’d be a slight pause as you both stood, catching your breath and recovering from a high that wasn’t ready to come down yet. when you’d reluctantly try to pull away from him, you’d be thankful his fingernails were trimmed because they’d be digging into your hips and, as expected, his eyes were stuck to your face. even with his curiosity quenched, eren wouldn’t stop studying you; the rise and fall of your chest as your breathing regulated again, the stray hairs adhered to your forehead by sweat, and the small pout formed by you holding back your frustrations,

“the fuck’s your problem?”, you’d finally ask, and eren would be taken aback by your curt words.

“what, i can’t look at you?”, he’d ask through a low chuckle, kissing your cheeks and rubbing circles on your exposed hips.

“yeah, but chill—ffuck”, each time you moved off him, eren’s hands would halt you and the friction was tightening the knot in your stomach that he had loosened not too long ago, “i’m not going nowhere, you ain’t gotta stare like that”, your laboured words fought against the moans threatening to escape your mouth.

“you’re just pretty, that’s all”, eren’s hand would once again be on your jaw, stilling your movements so his lips could resume their kissing on your neck and the space behind your ears, while his hips restarted their movements, “but you right; i ain’t done with you, so you not going nowhere til i am.”

#≡;- ꒰ °nanaminsmooninc. ꒱#aot x black reader #aot x black y/n #eren x black reader #aot eren #eren smut #eren x reader #eren x black fem!reader #eren x you

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lizzaneia-elizalde · 9 months

Text

Yandere! Cowboy x New in town! Teacher! gn! Reader

Save a horse, RIDE A WHAT?!

Okay i'm not that knowledgeable about the Ranch life, I only got this prompt from a *ehem* cowboy Ghost (from COD) prompt...

Yandere cowboy name: Knoxx Wyatt

TW: Implied sexual encounter, yandere shenanigans.

The Wyatt family.

They were THE ranchers of the town they live in.

You need cattle? They got them. Dairy? Sure. They even own a winery for goodness sake.

They also protect the town from outsiders and rogues.

But the most impressive part of their ranch is their horses. Their horses are award winning, with the most impressive breeds out there with such powerful legs for jumping, and the shiniest coasts to boast.

So it was clear that their horses are very important to them. So important in fact that every child born into the family gets their own horse once they turn 5.

When Knoxx got born, Mr. and Mrs. Wyatt was immediately smitten with their son. He's a miracle child after all. His mother, suffering from PCOS, considers Knoxx as a miracle child.

So naturally, he was spoiled rotten.

By the time he got to 5 years old, he was given one of the most powerful horse breeds in the world, a Belgian Draught.

The town was shook at first. A Belgian Draught? Even if the Wyatt family is known for their horses, a Belgian Draught is still a very prestigious horse breed none of their family members had handled.

Yet Knoxx proved everyone wrong by wrangling the horse even such a young age.

The horse, named Red, grew alongside the prodigy, Knoxx.

It was almost like Knoxx can talk with the animals with how he can tell what the cattle and the horses need by just a few huffs, belts, and trots. He's also a smart boy, absorbing information and relaying it effectively to the point he immediately got the senior rancher position by the age of 10.

Knoxx was mostly passive, only focuses on the ranch and the school. He's a gentleman, nice, polite, plus the fact that he's handsome, he's a heartthrob in the sleepy town he lives in.

Naturally, by the time he graduated with a double degree of Biology and Agriculture, he's the ideal bachelor of almost everyone.

And yet, he's not settling yet.

He felt like he just can't.

Because nobody can look past his polite smiles. No one can see his bored eyes, his arrogant sneer, his small, annoyed scoffs.

"Do they think they can measure up to me? THE Knoxx Wyatt? Dream fuckin' on."

In reality, he's an arrogant, entitled cowboy who thinks that everyone is below him.

Even going as far as letting his bloodlust win sometimes, silently and quietly killing the people who dared to be stupid around his precious cattle and horses.

Sometimes. It would be suspicious if it happened frequently, right?

He has a reputation to protect, after all.

So with this, all he could do is put the brim of his cowboy hat low, and take care of his ranch, and his ole' Red who's still alive and kicking.

But that arrogance will crumble once he met you.

"Fuck! Red! Where are you, boy?!"

"Red! Come on boy! This is not funny!"

Knoxx ran around the town, his boots clinking as his loud steps disturbed the peaceful town.

Knoxx was panicking. Red, his old horse, is missing. One of the hired ranchers forgot to lock the gate before he left the ranch.

Let's just say that rancher was sure to remember next time, his head almost being lobbed off with a rake that Knoxx may or may not have thrown.

As he got closer and closer to the raging rivers, his heart pounded. All he could see is the hoof marks that's definitely Red's making it's way to the river. He felt lightheaded, almost like he's about to puke from the stress and anxiety.

He may be a... Murderer, but he still has his moments, alright?

He got to the riverbank and his heart lodged to his throat when he saw a person pulling Red to the edge with all their might, their formal clothes wet. A telltale sign they pulled Red all the way from the middle of the river to the edge.

The person, not noticing Knoxx, continued to pull Red with the lead attached to the horse. Their legs were shaking, but they pulled with all their might until Red finally got to the edge.

"Darlin!" Knoxx yelled, running towards to Red and holding the old horse's head to his forehead. "You gave me a scare, boy!"

Knoxx turned towards the person and his cold heart slowly melted as they wrung their outfit from the water.

"Excuse me, your name, sweetheart?"

The person's head shot up, their eyes wide, tired, yet full of vigor. Maybe it was from the adrenaline, but Knoxx swore it was sparkles.

Or was it his eyes sparkling?

"I'm y/n."

"Y/n..." The way your name rolled on his tongue felt so good.

"Well, sweetheart. Thank you for saving my horse here. I'm sorry. You got your cute outfit wet too." You blushed, laughing it off.

"It's okay. I saw an animal in need and I immediately dove without thinking." You reasoned, shaking off the water. "Although, i'm probably late to my class."

Knoxx's heart sank. Are you not of age? A student?

"School? Are you new to this town? I've never seen ya around."

"Oh yes! I'm the new teacher. Well, I don't think i'll give the best first impressions with this outfit." You laughed sheepishly.

A teacher? His mind went haywire. You're an academic, it's quite a turn on.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart. You got wet because of me."

Hmm? Why does that sound--

Knoxx bit his lip and rubbed his thighs together at the sudden heat running inside of him. God.

"Oh don't worry. It's okay. I gotta go though, although I don't know how to explain the situation." You smiled softly, grabbing your bag that was discarded to the side. "I'll go then."

Knoxx was upset. He wanted to spend time with you more.

Then there's also the scratching feeling in his chest and throat that roared at the thought of you going out of his sight.

He gulped, and took his hat off and placed it on your head. Sweat riddling his face.

'Please don't know what this means please don't know what this means please don't know what this means...'

Knoxx almost buckled over when you looked at him with curious and ignorant eyes.

"Your hat? Why did you give me your hat?" You asked, feeling up his cowboy hat. It felt high quality and nice. Yet it felt foreboding. You don't know why.

"Don't worry your pretty little head over it." Knoxx said, smirking lazily. "Just wear that. They'll know what that meant."

You tilted your head and Knoxx gulped once more, shaking his head. And ignoring the prominent hardness between his legs.

"You must be cold. Come on, let me give you a ride to the school. I'll explain the situation to them." Knoxx held your waist, his body so close to you that you can smell his musk of pine, dirt, and wine.

And as he gave you a ride to the school, you swore that the townspeople's eyes were glued to you, and the hat on top of you.

"Knoxx! How's the new teacher? Are they settling well here?" The mayor of the town asked, eating his snacks.

Knoxx nodded and sighed. It was already a month, and it felt like a fever dream for him.

A beautiful fever dream he won't let go off.

"They're doing fine. The students love 'em." Knoxx said, chuckling and settling back on his chair.

They were in a saloon right now, drinking and eating the afternoon away. Knoxx just finished his daily patrol so he decided to settle inside the saloon when the mayor sat down with him to eat.

"Well, i'm glad to hear that." The mayor cleared his throat before his eyes widened to the door.

Knoxx followed his eyes and his gaze softened, yet also became predatory as he saw you walk inside.

"School's done, sweetheart?" Knoxx asked loudly, making you jump and clear your throat. A blush on your cheeks.

"Yes. Just finished. I'm just gonna go get a drink before heading home." You said, adjusting the collar of your outfit before going to the bar hastily.

Knoxx chuckled lazily, his bitemarks from last night's love making was visible from here, despite your attempts to hide it.

Yet his eyes went to the mayor's, who is looking at you with a hint of desire in his gaze.

Knoxx gripped his whiskey glass and spun the barrel of his revolver slowly, letting it click softly to the right position.

It seems that his sweetheart is a magnet for bandits ready to snatch them up.

But that's okay.

This cowboy will not let anybody steal you from him.

Save a horse,

Ride a cowboy.

#yandere boyfriend #yandere imagines #yandere male #yandere writing #male yandere x reader #tw yandere #yandere x darling #yandere x you #yandere fic #yandere drabbles #lizzaneiaelizalde

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luveline · 10 months

Note

omg if u ever get the chance would you write a follow up for the eddie and shy!reader where they confess? 🥺🩵

first part (u don't have to read if u don't want to) fem!shy!reader and best friend eddie confess, 1.6k

You flick a piece of popcorn off of your knee and smack Eddie square in the cheek. His neck snaps to the side to stare at you, tongue in his cheek in indignation.

"That how it is?" he asks.

You smile mock-demurely. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

It's too close to flirting to deny at this point, but Eddie doesn't ever seem to notice. You've been friends for so long that this slow decline into playfulness feels normal.

Eddie digs for the rogue piece of popcorn on the couch cushion behind his shoulders and prepares to flick it back. You cover your face.

"Hey! Cheating, put your hands down."

"No, you'll flick popcorn at me."

The popcorn hits you in the hand. You drop your hands, but quickly retreat into yourself on the bean bag in apprehension as he approaches, a devilish smile playing on his pretty mouth. "Eddie, please don't–" You groan as he drops his weight on top of you, kneeing the back of your thigh hard. "You fucking–"

"Remember when we first met? You never would've cussed at me," he interrupts, boldly putting his hands on you, one at your neck and the other against your cheek.

You wiggle under him. "Get off."

He takes a handful of popcorn from the bucket by your side. It smells sweet like taffy, and a kernel falls from his palm onto your shirt as he eats it. You flick it at him.

"You're aggressively aggressive," he says through chews.

"You're heavier than you look."

"When we first met," he says, poking your cheek with his pinky, you assume so as not to get popcorn crumbs on you, "you could barely look me in the eye."

"That's just 'cos you're scruffy."

"Funny."

Eddie wipes his hand in his shirt and grabs your face again. You go still at his touch, trying to maintain a facade of calm you don't feel.

"This is nicer. I love when you get all shy," —his voice softens slowly, like a meandering river calmed— "your smile… you smile when you're nervous, you know that?"

You tamp your expression into neutrality. "Do not."

"But it's nicer now that you're not nervous all the time. You're not telling me things, but I can handle it."

"I tell you things," you mumble.

Eddie locks eyes with you. He rubs your jaw with his knuckles teasingly, before climbing off of you with an apologetic pat to your knee. His positioning had been less than comfortable. You sit up with a sigh, leg and chest aching.

"You tell me some things," he says.

"I tell you pretty much everything."

"Liar." He crosses his legs, sitting applesauce by the mantle. Sunlight coming in from the kitchen behind him has his hair like silver at the edges where it falls around his face, his arms tense where he holds his own elbows.

"I'm not lying, you know anything worth knowing about me."

It's hard to make out, but you can tell you've upset him. You aren't sure how, but he goes rigid, looking away from you and toward the TV. His side profile knocks the breath out of you, lashes long where they kiss the skin beneath his brows, his nose a strong line you'd like to reach out and trace.

"Eddie–"

"It's alright, I didn't mean anything by it."

The bean bag groans as you kneel on the rug by Eddie's legs. You look around helplessly for aid, and when none comes you drag the popcorn toward you, eating a mouthful morosely.

"I'm sorry for being weird, I just…" Eddie leans back on one arm and whines. "I think I'm getting my meriod."

"That's not funny."

He puts a hand on his stomach. "Do I look bloated to you?"

"I don't know where to start with that one."

Eddie falls onto his back. His act doesn't last very long, and after a few moments he's frowning at the TV again. You look down into the popcorn kernels, white and yellow and brown and fragrant when you give the tub a little shake. You push it away.

"Don't be sad, Eds. If there's something you want me to tell you, I'll tell you."

You're aflame as you say it, because why the fuck would you say that? There's no way he'll want to know what you're afraid to tell him, he'll never ask, but still. It's like offering to jump into turbulent waters.

"I just don't want you holding onto stuff, that's all. Kinda breaks my heart thinking you're a bag of secrets."

"What if it's stuff you don't wanna hear?" you ask with a dry mouth.

"I always wanna hear it if it's coming from you. Can't promise I'll like it, but what, you think I'm gonna care?"

"It's hard to say."

He gestures for you to lay down with him.

You set your shoulder by his and lay down cautiously. Your thigh bumps into his. A line of rings catches the light where his hand covers his ribs.

"I don't want to tell you something about me and have you see me differently," you say slowly, each word strung to the other clumsily as you piece your sentence together. "I like how you treat me now."

"What if I swear things won't change?"

"I don't…" He sounds like he knows you like him. Impossible to describe, only that you know the truth, so he must know the truth too. "You can't, really. Promise me that."

He turns his head to yours, his hair dragging gentle across your shoulder as he moves. You feel his gaze like a flame on your cheek.

"I swear," he murmurs. "Nothing will change. Nothing you don't want to change."

You turn toward him, heart in your mouth, meeting his baby brown eyes head on. You shift your head against the floor to take the weight of it off of your ear, your chin lifting subtly.

This is going to rip your chest open. "I think I'm," —Eddie leans forward, he closes the gap, "in love–"

You can't finish your sentence. Like a magnetic pull, Eddie fits his lips against the seam of your own and you close it, alarmed, not sure how to respond. He cuts your face softly and pushes up, encouraging you to kiss back.

"Wait," you say, eyes painfully open.

Eddie immediately moves away from you. "Sorry," he says, his eyes just as open, twice as wide, "was I not supposed– you're not talking about me?"

"I'm in love with you," you say.

"Yeah, I guessed?"

"I don't know why you're being cranky with me, we both know I won't be able to say it again."

Your throat totally closes as he rubs your cheek, like there's dirt under his thumb. "I've been thinking about kissing you for months, sweetheart," he says. He looks like he might say more, but he leans in again.

You sigh at his touching, his gentle kiss. He smiles into you, sitting up to kiss down with slightly more force. Eddie takes the lead, cradling your face in hands you've never felt so adoringly tender before. His hair starts to tip onto your cheek like strands of silk.

"I think you'll be okay," he says, breaking the kiss to pant in breath. He rubs the tip of his nose into yours.

"There's popcorn in my teeth, please don't kiss me again," you say quietly.

"I love you. I don't care if we swap kernels for the next hour."

"Hour?" you ask, though you're thrumming with a strange anticipation. The reality hasn't dropped, but it's falling fast.

"I've been waiting months," he reminds you, lips at your cheek as he needles his arms under your shoulders. He hugs you. "Aw, sweetheart. I've been seeing you try to tell me now for months, the whole time thinking I couldn't get any more obsessed with you."

"You're obsessed with me? You knew?" you ask.

"Don't freak out."

"I'm gonna."

"Okay, fine, freak out."

You hug him, burying your nose in his hair. He's soft, and warm, and he's heavy where he leans on your chest, but it's perfect. You wonder if this is the precipice of forever now, if you get to have him in your arms like this all the time. You freak out.

"You're in love with me?" you ask.

"Sickeningly."

"I think my face is on fire."

Eddie peels back to look you over. "You're melting," he says agreeably. "But lucky you, your best friend gives the coolest kisses ever."

"You're gonna make it worse."

"Can I?" he asks.

"I have popcorn in my teeth," you whine again.

Eddie knows you better than anyone in the whole wide world. He demands you open your mouth for kernel extraction and you burst into squeamish giggles, squirming out from his arms and whacking your head on the seat of the couch. Eddie chases after you to start a wrestling match you can't win. He doesn't break his promise —the things you don't want to change stay the same. And the things you do want to change? They're perfect, even if it all tastes overwhelmingly of butter and toffee.

i hope you enjoyed reading!!

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson scenario #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader

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theobsessivesideblog · 3 months

Text

Hook Where it Hurts

Astarion finds himself Experiencing Emotions™ after a battle takes a turn for the worse.

Warnings: violence/injury, death, angst BUT happy ending I promise

—————————————————————

Your time in the Underdark had been relatively uneventful, all things considered. Sure there were Minotaurs, the occasional bulette, and exploding mushrooms, but there was something strangely beautiful about the alien landscape. The myconids were a friendly, if odd and slightly bloodthirsty bunch. Your conversation with Omeluum had proved enlightening, and trade with Blurg and Derryth had garnered you some useful items. Overall you couldn’t bring yourself to regret following Halsin’s advice to take the subterranean path to the Shadow-Cursed lands.

You set up camp at the Myconid colony, heading out at first light (or at least what you assumed was first light without the actual sun to confirm) to begin your trek towards the lake Sovereign Spaw had pointed you toward. An hour into your walk a glow appeared in the distance, lighting up the gloom of the cavernous landscape.

“I say, that can’t be… I do believe that may be a Sussur tree!” Gail exclaimed from behind you. “Powerful things, and rare, uniquely capable of completely nullifying magical forces, just fascinating!” he continued, eyes alight at the prospect of examining one up close.

“Sussur… that sounds familiar,” Karlach pondered.

“Ah! Right you are my fiery friend, there were instructions in the village about making a weapon with the bark! That would likely prove to be a powerful tool, we should certainly take a look.”

You gazed towards the tree, comparing its location with the heading you had gotten from Spaw. In all likelihood you would end up passing nearby, may as well go on purpose.

“Seems like it won’t be too much of a detour,” you announced, glancing around the group. “All in favor?”

“I’d never say no to a new kick-ass weapon,” Karlach grinned.

“That’s two for, Astarion?” you asked, looking over towards the rogue.

“I doubt our resident magician will shut up about it until we pay a visit, so fine. Let’s go traipsing through the monster-infested dark to look at the magic tree,” Astarion said with a dramatic eye roll.

“Anti-magic, technically, you see the—“ Gale’s chatter came to an abrupt halt as Astarion shot him a withering glance. “Right, yes, um. Shall we?”

———————

You had to admit, the Sussur tree was breathtaking. Far larger than you had initially realized, clearly ancient and powerful. You glanced over to see your companions’ reactions, breath catching as your eyes met Astarion’s. His pale skin was nearly pearlescent in the ethereal glow, the blue light making his red eyes darker than usual. He stared back, lips pulling into a smirk, and a shiver of desire ran down your spine as he began prowling towards you. You’d been playing this game of cat and mouse for days, taking turns taunting and tempting each other and you were curious to see who would break first.

A movement behind Astarion’s shoulder broke you out of your reverie, eyes catching on a monstrous creature slowly beginning to descend toward your troupe from the raised roots of the tree. Your face paled and you saw Astarion’s brow furrow in your periphery as he registered that he had lost your attention, turning to see what had distracted you. He stiffened as he caught sight of the beast, silently reaching to retrieve an arrow while you hissed quietly towards Gale and Karlach in an attempt to get their attention. Karlach looked your way and you subtly gestured towards the creature as it crept closer to the group, trying to hold back the urge to laugh as she reached out and smacked Gale’s arm, interrupting his lecture on the properties of the blossoms.

A few more wordless glances between the four of you had everyone subtly moving into position, preparing for what was sure to be a short battle. You glanced across the clearing, locking eyes with each of your companions before giving a tight nod as all of you attacked at once. The creature let out a shriek as it was barraged by both metal and magic, falling from its root bridge and hitting the ground below with a sickening crunch.

As the adrenaline faded from your system and you walked forward to observe the corpse you were nearly disappointed by how easily the beast had fallen. Not that you ever wanted to get your ass kicked but you had certainly expected that a monster with as many teeth and claws as this one would’ve put up a bit more of a fight. Karlach had turned away with a dissatisfied pout on her lips as she sheathed her weapon and Astarion had already started to wander off to investigate the rest of the cave as you gently nudged the cooling body on the ground with the tip of your boot. It was grotesque up close, a bird-like skeletal face filled with vicious teeth and enormous, razor-sharp hooks protruding from the end of each arm in place of hands. Beside you Gale was surveying the corpse with a strangely joyous expression.

“What a fascinating beast! We got quite lucky, they’re exceptional hunters, certainly wouldn’t want to run into one of these unprepared! They’re called Hook Horrors!” he announced gleefully to no one in particular.

“Did someone say something about whores?” Astarion called from across the cavern. Karlach snorted loudly as she and Gale began making their way over towards him and you rolled your eyes as your lips curled into a smile.

“Yes, Star, Gale has deeply insulted me,” you called back sarcastically. “You may need to come defend my honor! In fact, I–”

You cut off abruptly as a shriek pierced through the air, echoing off the hard rock. You all whipped toward the sound, weapons coming back to the ready as another hook horror climbed out from behind a patch of roots close to your three companions. As you watched it emerge you distractedly thought that it would be nice to go back to fighting above ground again. The way sound bounced around the rocks always made it sound like there was something behind you, and some paranoid instinct had you sending a cursory glance back over your shoulder to calm your nerves.

You froze in place, realizing your fears had been well founded as another hook horror silently emerged from around the corner of the cavern wall and leapt towards you. You barked out a startled curse and jumped back as it took a swing at you. The first horror may have fallen easily enough against the four of you, but your companions were locked in battle on the other side of the cavern and you were well aware that a one-on-one fight was one you wouldn’t win.

You kept your eyes locked on the creature as you began backing your way across the cave, hoping you could get within range of your party before it lost patience and struck. Based on the sounds the other monster was emitting it wouldn’t be a threat for much longer. You tightened your hold on your weapon, preparing to strike as you crept back another step, heart skipping as the rock you had stepped on shifted underneath your boot. You glanced down for a split second, trying to find your footing, a sense of dread filling you as you saw the hook horror jump into motion in your peripheral vision.

The hook drove into your side and you screamed. Pain the likes of which you’d never felt before tore through you as the hook horror yanked its arm across your abdomen, tearing through your stomach. You thought you heard someone shout, but they sounded a million miles away as you collapsed to your knees before the beast, your sight dimming around the edges. You vaguely registered a flash of blades and a wet thump as the hook horror’s head hit the ground before your vision was taken over by Astarion’s panicked visage. His hands gripped your face, feeling unnaturally warm against your cheeks as the world faded away.

“No no no, you can’t die, get UP damn you!” he shouted, desperately trying to staunch the flow of blood from the jagged cut across your midsection even as a small voice in the back of his mind told him it was too late. His shaking hands were covered in your blood but he had never found it less appealing, appetite long gone as he stared at your unnaturally pale face. “Please, my sweet, don’t do this to me,” he pleaded, vision clouding as his eyes filled with tears. He saw a red blur on his left as Karlach kneeled down beside him and he instinctively curled around you protectively, arms gently slipping around your back as he clutched your unmoving form against his chest.

“Astarion, we need–”

“Give me a healing potion. Now.” he ordered, voice dangerously low.

“It’s too late, Astarion. We need to get her body back–”

“Don’t say it like that,” he growled shakily. He closed his eyes and drew a deep breath, trying to steady himself but choking on the scent of your blood in the air. “A resurrection scroll then,” he demanded, glaring in Gale’s direction.

“I… it won’t work. The tree–”

Astarion snarled out a curse and pressed his forehead against your frigid cheek, desperately trying to contain the sob attempting to claw its way out of him.

“We need to get her to camp, Astarion,” Karlach repeated gently, a small line of steam rising from where a tear had just rolled her cheek. “We need Shadowheart. I can carry–”

“No,” he murmured, gently brushing a strand of hair away from your face with a trembling hand before adjusting one of his arms beneath your knees and standing with you cradled against him. “I’ve got her.”

———————

They were farther from camp than Astarion had realized, though perhaps it only felt that way because he had spent the entire walk staring at your lifeless face. He felt numb by the time they arrived, hardly hearing Karlach shout for Shadowheart as they passed the first of the tents. In the back of his mind he was aware that their other companions had gathered around them frantically asking questions, but the words didn’t register and he continued forward without acknowledging any of them. He walked to his tent in a trance, gingerly setting you down on his bedroll and kneeling at your side as his shaking hands tried to arrange your limp body into a more comfortable configuration.

“What in the hells happened?” Shadowheart snapped as Karlach pulled her roughly into the tent. He should answer, should try to explain, but he was frozen kneeling by your side, unable to pull his attention away from your unblinking eyes.

“She- she was-” Karlach bit back a sob, trying to catch her breath. “We got caught off guard. She was alone. She shouldn’t have been alone,” Karlach choked out, dissolving into tears. Shadowheart hurried to your side and knelt across from Astarion, immediately beginning to unfasten the straps on your armor and peeling the bloodied metal away from your skin.

“We need to get her cleaned up so I can see what I'm doing. Astarion, can you fetch me some water and clean washcloths?” she asked, continuing to remove your ruined clothing. When he remained unmoving she looked up to where he sat, his gaze unwaveringly focused on the brutal cut across your torso.

“Astarion,” she repeated softly, waiting as he slowly drug his gaze up to meet her eyes. “I swear to you I will do everything in my power to fix this, but I need your help.” She paused, waiting until Astarion gave a small nod of acknowledgement to rattle off the things she needed, her attention returning to your still form as Astarion rose and darted around his tent gathering what she had requested. He returned a heartbeat later, depositing the items at her side as she instructed him to wet a cloth and begin wiping away as much blood as he could.

She began chanting a prayer as he worked, hovering her hands over your sternum while he continued to gently clean your skin. Your blood had been a gift once, a delight. Now he shuddered as he attempted to ring out the bloodied rag in his hand, barely fighting the urge to retch as it dripped from his hands into the reddened bowl of water at his side.

A light sparked in Shadowheart’s hands, warm and radiant, and Astarion stopped his work, dropping the stained cloth and gently reaching out with trembling fingers to take hold of your hand. The light in her palms grew as she focused, directing its power towards you. A glowing beam split from the whole and snaked downwards, weaving through the jagged edges of your wound and drawing them together while the remainder of the light floated upward, hovering over your heart. She continued chanting, her eyes drifting closed in concentration as the glowing orb started to lower, dimming as it sunk through your skin and into your chest. The room grew silent as Shadowheart completed the incantation and lowered her hands, looking you over carefully.

“Did it… did it work?” Karlach whispered. “Is it supposed to take this long? Why isn’t she–”

Your chest rose as you gasped in air, the breath immediately turning to a cough at the uncomfortable stretch in your lungs. The air tasted of iron and magic and you frowned, trying to open your eyes to observe your surroundings but surprised to find your eyelids heavy and uncooperative. Cool fingers brushed against your face, smoothing away the furrow in your brow and you instinctively relaxed at the familiar touch.

“All is well, darling,” you heard Astarion whisper, voice sounding oddly constricted. “Rest now.”

You were still confused, still couldn't remember how you’d gotten here or what had happened. It felt as if something important had occurred, surely you shouldn’t sleep now. You heard the soft murmur of voices around you, a strained chuckle, a soft sniffle. You frowned again, struggling once more to open your eyes and earning an exasperated sigh from the vampire beside you.

“Please, pet,” he breathed, lips ghosting over your skin as he pressed a gentle kiss to your cheek. “Just sleep.”

Your sense of unease fell away as Astarion began gently running his fingers through your hair. You felt him press another soft kiss against your forehead and relaxed into him, allowing yourself to drift off in his arms.

———————

The second Shadowheart had given the all clear Astarion had insisted everyone leave his tent. It was far too crowded and he wouldn’t have them waking you up when you were clearly in no condition to face their fussing. Even as he anchored himself in the sound of your steady heartbeat he still felt restless and off-balance, hands flitting over your sleeping form looking for something more to do.

He felt ridiculous. You were here in front of him, healed and whole, and that should be the end of it. So why in the hells were his hands still trembling as he ensured your blankets were tucked around you? Why did his chest ache uncomfortably every time he caught a leftover whiff of your blood in the air?

He huffed out a frustrated breath and sat on the ground beside you, staring at your sleeping face warily. This had never been part of his plan. He was never supposed to… care. Two centuries of distancing himself and building walls and somehow you had just waltzed right past his defenses and made yourself at home. He let out a defeated sigh and reached over, extracting your hand from the blankets to weave your fingers together with his. His gaze drifted to the steady rise and fall of your breathing and he found himself matching your pace, the tightly wound coil in his chest finally starting to loosen as you let out a soft snore.

Tomorrow, he decided. Tomorrow he could deal with figuring out why that sound made him smile. Tomorrow he could obsess over how even just holding your hand made his whole body feel warmer. Tomorrow he could deal with the fact that in over 200 years of life he’d never before been as completely and utterly terrified as he had been today. For now, though, he would indulge. For tonight he would just let himself have this, whatever ‘this’ was. He closed his eyes and lifted your hand to his face, gently brushing his lips across your knuckles as he settled in to watch over you until morning.

———————

The passage of time in the Underdark still confused you. You woke to the same darkness you had fallen asleep in, groggily wondering what time it was and how long you had been in bed. Your mouth was dry and your head was pounding. Had you been drinking? That would certainly explain why you couldn’t remember how you had gotten here. As unappealing as getting up sounded, you were parched and you couldn’t stay here forever. You hoisted yourself up and froze as pain suddenly lanced through you, your vision flickering and arms giving out as you whimpered and fell back toward your pillow only to be caught by a pair of cold, pale arms.

“I wouldn’t recommend moving just yet, darling,” Astarion said, looking down at you with a worried frown on his face as he lowered you gently back to the bedroll. “Shadowheart did as much as she could last night but it took a lot out of her to bring you back. You’re not going anywhere until she’s gotten a chance to check on you again.” He leaned across you, determinedly avoiding meeting your eyes as he made sure your pillow was adequately fluffed. You saw a slight tremor run through him and heard a catch in his breath before he stood abruptly and walked across the tent, silently pouring you a glass of water from the pitcher in the corner.

“Bring me… back?” you questioned. Astarion stilled, jaw clenching as you took him in. His normally flawlessly tousled hair was tangled as if he had been running his hands through it and streaks of blood threaded through the white locks. There were dark circles under his eyes and his skin looked even paler than normal, nearly translucent in the dim light. Your eyes flitted down to his wrinkled, untucked shirt and then around the tent, catching on the blood-soaked pile of clothes and armor to the side of the entrance and the red-stained towels laying by a bowl of water next to the bedroll. A dim memory flashed through your mind: a tree, an ambush, excruciating pain, and then… nothing.

“Oh.” you whispered, exhaling shakily as you felt your chest constrict, breaths turning quick and shallow as the air seemed to thin. Astarion was by your side in an instant, one hand smoothing back your hair while the other cupped your cheek, his thumb gently wiping away a tear you hadn’t even realized had fallen.

“It’s alright, darling, just breathe. You’re safe now.” he murmured, continuing to stroke your hair as your breathing calmed. He let out a tremulous sigh and closed his eyes, leaning down to press his forehead to yours. “It’s alright,” he repeated even more quietly, sounding almost as if he were talking to himself, pressing against you for a moment before inhaling sharply and pulling away.

“Shit, you’re in pain, aren’t you?” he said, looking you over with worried eyes and immediately moving to stand. “I’ll get Shadowheart, she said she’d come by when she woke but surely she’s had enough sleep by now and–”

“Wait, Star, I… can you just stay here with me for a moment?” you asked in a small voice. Warmth spread through him at your request and he obliged immediately, lowering himself to sit at your side and gently taking your hand in his. You sat in companionable silence for a moment, studying his profile as he stared at your interlaced fingers. Up close the bags beneath his eyes were even more pronounced and you frowned, gently extricating your hand from his to touch his cheek. He leaned into your palm and placed a kiss against the inside of your wrist, eyes drifting closed as he basked in the warmth of your touch.

“Have you rested at all, Astarion?” you questioned. “You look exhausted.”

He huffed a laugh and cracked open an eye to look at your face.

“I’m not sure you want to get into comparing looks right now, darling. You’re even paler than me at the moment,” he chuckled, eyes closing once again as he leaned further into your touch, a teasing grin spread across his face. “I assure you, however you may think I look, you look ten times worse.”

“Hm, that’s not too bad I suppose,” you smirked. “Ten times worse than you is still at least three times better than the average person.”

Astartion barked out a surprised laugh and opened his eyes to look at you again, something in them softening as he saw your gentle smile.

“Whoever would’ve thought math could be so romantic,” he murmured, leaning forward and placing a soft kiss against your lips. He raised a hand to brush a stray hair off your forehead and his smile faded, brow furrowing as his gaze met yours with uncharacteristic vulnerability. “Please don’t scare me like that again, my dear,” he breathed. “I’m- I don’t-” he sighed in frustration at the mess of emotions in his chest, hardly able to remember the last time his words had failed him so completely.

“Don’t want to deal with this group of weirdos all by yourself?” you teased gently. He grinned back at you, gratitude in his eyes for not pushing him to collect his thoughts just yet.

“Precisely that,” he chuckled, the tension leaving his shoulders.

“Well I’m not going anywhere,” you said, smiling softly at him. “Also I wasn’t kidding before, you look like shit. You really should get some rest.”

“Hm,” Astarion hummed mischievously, narrowing his eyes. “I would, but you see someone went and bled all over my bedroll. Adept though I may be at washing out blood stains it’s a rather thick fabric, it will take a while to dry back out. I may need to stay with… someone… for a day or two. Or three. Maybe more,” he smirked, raising an eyebrow suggestively as you huffed out a laugh.

“You’re incorrigible,” you replied, grinning up at him and rolling your eyes. “I suppose it does seem that I’ve made rather a mess of your tent though…”

“You certainly have,” he murmured, shifting to hover over you, slowly kissing his way along your jaw.

“And it would only be fair to let you bunk with the cleanest person in camp…”

“Mmhmm…” he hummed, kissing closer and closer to your lips.

“And I’m sure Gale wouldn’t mind letting you crash with him–”

“Excuse me??” he crowed, pulling back indignantly as you burst out laughing below him. He scowled playfully and shook his head at you in feigned displeasure. “You wicked little thing,” he chuckled, leaning back down and finally pressing his lips to yours in a gentle, unhurried kiss. “What am I going to do with you?”

“Whatever it is,” you smirked, pulling him back to you for another kiss, “I'm sure I'll like it.”

#astarion #astarion ancunin #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion x you #bg3 #bg3 astarion

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tripleyeeet · 9 months

Text

THE ROGUE TAX (2)

SUMMARY: Fed up with paying Astarion to pick all the locks, you force yourself to learn the hard way.

PAIRING: Astarion & Female Reader (reads as Gender Neutral but future chapters will be femme focused, just a heads up!)

WORD COUNT: 2,635

WARNINGS: Short nightmare sequence, too much sexual tension, slight mentions of a handkink, inappropriate lock pick teaching.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I know I'm posting these super early but day two of the Haunted Hoedown! This time the prompt is "finders keepers!" I honestly had so much fun with this one, so hopefully all the new Astarion fans that've followed me in the last day enjoy? Love you guys. :))))

Also I was originally going to make all of these challenge fics separate but I've since decided to make it more of a connected fic so... that's a thing now? I'll link the last chapter below!

CHAPTER LIST / MASTERLIST / NEXT CHAPTER

“I wasn’t aware you were so proficient at lock picking.”

You smirk at Astarion’s false praise, busying your hands against the lock’s mechanism. You’ve only been at it for five or six, maybe seven tops but you can already tell it’ll be a while. The lock itself is tough; covered in a layer of thick rust. Plus, being that it’s a chest and not a door, it’s a bit more advanced than you’re used to.

“Yes, well, not all of us are vampires that can woo their way through a padlock.”

In response, Astarion laughs, throwing his head back so dramatically that from the corner of your eye, it looks as if he’s lost his head for a moment. “You do realize who you’re talking to, correct?”

You hum out a response and push the short hook further in, feeling the pressure of a loose pin hit the end. When that happens, you grin to yourself and slide closer to the chest, biting your bottom lip in excitement.

Over the last few weeks, you and the rest of the group had come upon some interesting findings. A cave inside a well, a few hidden cellars around the surrounding the goblin camp, a hidden chest or two. At first, it was exciting, getting to experience the joys of a good treasure hunt but quickly such feelings fell once you discovered how difficult it was to break into said things without the help of Astarion and his seemingly magic hands.

“I know you’re excited to prove yourself, darling, but why don’t you let me finish things off, hm? It’ll go a lot quicker.”

You shake your head and continue your ministrations, carefully pushing the hook further in, feeling that alleviated pressure of another pin. “I’m tired of relying on you and your bloody rogue tax.”

After agreeing that Astarion would just pick every lock your party found for a price, it was evident he was more than willing to take more than he was owed. Saying things like I did all the work or you wouldn’t be here if not for me, it was obvious he was exploiting you. Using his roguish charms to earn himself a bigger cut despite doing next to nothing else.

It was frustrating, to say the least. Another minor annoyance to add to his long list of negative personality traits, and lately you were determined to combat it. To learn the trade for yourself so that every piece of treasure found could remain solely yours.

“I’m sure everyone is but that’s the price you pay for a professional.”

You roll your eyes and continue to fiddle, feeling his gaze glued to the positioning of your hands —how your fingers tighten and twist around the metal instrument.

You’d be lying if you said it didn’t make you at least a little bit nervous —having his eyes on you. Across your palms, you can feel the slick of sweat collecting with each new movement, while behind you, you can practically feel Astarion’s judgement throughout, silently picking apart all of your mistakes.

“You’re doing—“

You shush him angrily before he can continue, knowing he’s trying to break your concentration. Knowing that he thinks that if he can prove to be enough of a distraction you’ll end up slipping up and giving in.

“I was just going to tell you about the wonderful job you’re doing.” His tone is laced with sarcasm. Drenched in a thick layer of impatience that has you groaning under your breath.

“Isn’t there someone else you can bother?”

“No.”

You know there is. In the other room of the abandoned building you currently find yourselves in, at least four other people are rooting through the rubble. Most likely they’re stationed in their usual areas. Gale’s probably next to the stack of bookshelves with Karlach, telling her all about his collection back at the camp while Wyll and Shadowheart are searching through the cellar in hopes of more wine.

“You sure?”

For a moment you debate telling him to go keep watch with Lae’zel just so that he’ll shut up but the thought dissipates once you feel him flop onto the floor beside you with a groan.

“Everyone else is so dull,” he complains. His line of slight flickers between your face and hands, watching the way they remain almost too still as he speaks. “They’re all do this do that, and for what?”

You shrug your shoulders ever so slightly, unsure of what he means.

“They’re all living for other people, darling. Other causes. Everything they do serves a higher purpose and for that reason alone, they’re boring.”

Despite your previous determination your hands release themselves from the padlock before you find yourself readjusting —moving to plop down next to him. “You think everyone’s boring because they’re selfless?”

“Predictable,” he corrects, pointing a loose finger in your direction. “All of them talk too much about a future that may not even come considering we’re infected and have little idea on how to remedy the situation.”

You’re not sure where this rant is coming from but you welcome it considering it’s been weeks since you’ve had a normal conversation that didn’t revolve around mapping or looting or combat. Weeks since you’ve taken a moment to learn about the people you find yourself in constant contact with.

“Some people just don’t like looking back.”

There’s a hint of surprise in his eyes when you respond as if he wasn’t expecting such an answer. Or really, maybe an answer at all. All at once his face seems to rise in thought, taking a moment to absorb the words before he hums in response, pursing his lips. “Yes, well, I suppose some people don’t have a past worth running from.”

What’s that supposed to mean?

The tadpole behind your eye wriggles for his attention before you can even think to suppress it. Working to pull him in as you stare at one another, narrowing your eyes at the sudden cerebral contact. At first, he’s reluctant. You can feel the pushing sensation suggesting that you stop. That you should stick to the confines of your own mind rather than pestering him, but quicker than you can move away to agree, it’s as if you’re sucked back in again. Pulled by the very thread of your own brain matter to see flashes of a life you assume to be his.

The first thing you see is candlelight. A flickering of warm hues that dance across wooden interiors. It’s almost dizzying the way the light shifts across your vision, forcing you to close your eyes. Next to you, you can hear Astarion breathing heavily. Deep inhales followed by even deeper exhales that you swiftly use as a metronome to carry your focus. To aid your tadpole’s connection.

Swallowing hard, you listen to the beats of his breath, feeling them take over your chest as the vision in front of you grows to reveal bits of cobblestone. In the background, you can hear the faint sounds of scuttling feet. The dripping of water. A hungry growl followed by an even hungrier gnaw of flesh that squelches on your tongue.

You can taste the iron —feel the fur and bones of an unknown animal brush against your lips and gums. All of it swirls around your mouth like a tornado of overstimulating sensations, forcing the vision to pass as you reach for your throat, coughing up nothing but your own spit despite how real it feels.

It’s apparent then what Astarion means. That some people aren’t always blessed with the privilege of running away. That people like him don’t have the means of calling upon allies to aid them through the awful shit that is reality.

Even with such little context, you can sense through his tadpole that he’s alone in this life. Alone before the Illithid —alone now. And more than likely, he’ll be alone after it’s all over, in death or otherwise.

Rubbing your throat —trying your best to get rid of the tainted feeling of skin and bone from your mouth, you feel empathy rather than sympathy. An understanding of his words as you look toward him, noticing the far-off look in his eye before he blinks and travels back.

“I only showed you that to save the explanation,” he says, and whether or not it’s true you merely just nod, welcoming the silence. The tranquil hush of two people attempting to navigate the other.

It doesn’t last long. In between, there are a few moments of background noise. The sound of echoing footsteps and muffled voices. You know it’s the others looting just as you should be, but neither of you moves to join until Astarion eventually clears his throat, signalling change.

“Anyway, they’re all in their own worlds, coasting on the wings of optimism.” He flicks his hand around the air while rolling his eyes. “It’s disgusting and partly why I choose your company above theirs.”

Letting yourself fall back into your usual, somewhat antagonistic rhythm, you give him a curious look. “Partly, huh?”

“Don’t get too excited,” he quips, the edge of his lip twitching into that usual grin of his. “The other part is the potential of your blood, darling.”

“Ah yes. And here I was assuming you were just following me around so that you could steal my treasure.”

Both of your eyes move back to the unbroken padlock. It’s the only thing in this room that seems to be worth either of your time and Astarion knows it. It’s why he’s been so keen on your failure.

“You know, I could help you if you like. Show you a thing or two so that the next time this happens you don’t have to rely on me.”

It’s tempting, even if you know that you’ll be taxed to all hell. Whatever spoils you find will ultimately be cut in half and, more than likely, he’ll sweeten the deal for himself by claiming first pick.

“What’s the price?”

He shoots you a look of offence, clutching his chest. “My dear, I’d never dare put a price on the education of thievery.”

You hold back a grin, pressing your lips together, watching the way he quickly springs into action, motioning for you to hand him your tools. When you do he begins to explain the process, showcasing all the tips and tricks against the air with careful precision. Which would be helpful if you weren’t so focused on his hands rather than his words. On the way they curl around the handles of your tools, tightening with every gesture performed.

Astarion’s got nicer hands than most. Long and thin and surprisingly well-manicured for someone who spends most of his time in the forest or drinking the blood of unsuspecting animals. And guiltily enough staring at them so intently just reminds you of that night he drained your neck.

You can still feel the pressure of his fingers against your head. The way they roughly cupped you like a goblet of wine. Despite the fear in that moment, you’re now able to look back at that memory almost fondly. A moment of potential weakness for you somehow became a moment of trust for him and as a result, here you were now, acting almost friendly amid a terrible situation.

It makes you grin, prompting Astarion to stop his explanation and narrow his eyes.

“Are you even listening?”

“Hm?”

There’s a knowing glance that befalls his face then. A transition of clarity that has his mouth opening and closing before he hands you your tools. “Might be best if we take a more hands on approach.”

You look at him confused, letting the hooks in your hand lazily rest in your palm as you watch him hop to his knees and begin to guide you.

“I want you to do exactly what you were doing before, alright? Use the hook to push the pins.”

Despite your continued confusion, you follow his position by kneeling in front of the chest and popping the hook into the hole, digging around the darkened space until you feel the shift of that first pin.

“Got it?” You spare him a glance and a nod, watching him crawl towards you, positioning his chest firmly against your back before reaching out to hold your wrists. “Now, take that other hook of yours and situate it at the base of the barrel.”

Doing exactly that, you feel his fingers slowly slip over yours, navigating you through the trials of getting that second pin to shift as the barrel turns in your grasp. At first, it’s difficult. Mostly because all you can focus on is the breath that hits the side of your face. The heat of the air that travels down your spine in nervous waves you’re almost certain he can feel. But then you’re reminded that you’ve been here before; stuck within his heated grasp.

“That’s it. Just like that.”

You’re practically holding your breath as you find that third pin, feeling Astarion’s hand shift you in the right direction before you lose it at the last second. Ever so gently, his chest shifts upwards against your back so that he can rest his chin on your shoulder to get a better look. A newfound weight that makes you close your eyes and release a bit of air from your nose, realizing how intimate this is.

Somehow it feels even more personal than letting him feed off of you. Perhaps because the bloodsucking was for his own benefit, knowing Astarion, moments like that where he’s able to take rather than give mean next to nothing to him. They’re just moments of manipulation. A series of tactical steps he takes to get whatever he wants whereas this is different. This is for you.

You’re not sure how to describe it other than an offering of trust. Maybe it’s a token of appreciation for letting him consume. Maybe it’s nothing more than a game to make you squirm beneath his grasp. Either or, it’s an experience you know you’ll be thinking of for days to come, attempting to decipher its intent.

“Once you feel that final pin I want you to ease it in gently, alright? Be delicate.”

You offer him no response as you listen to his words. If you did, you’re certain he’d make some offhand comment that would only further the lewdness of it all, grinning like the mischievous prick he is.

“After that, you should feel a little shift and —voilà!”

The chest clicks open. Your breath releases in a long, much-needed stream but Astarion makes no effort to move from your frame. Instead, he continues to cling to your hands, angling his chin so that when you eventually look at him you’re practically touching noses.

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

“It’s that easy?”

Slowly but surely he slips from your frame with a nod, his hands sliding across the expanse of your sleeves, coating your skin in a wave of goosebumps as he moves to stand. “Yes, but keep it hush, hush. Wouldn’t want the others to find out, would we?”

You shake your head, a small smile creeping across your lips as you then turn towards your reward, gripping both edges of the lid before pushing it up. Inside there are only a few items. A few spell scrolls and some fabric but it’s enough to get you excited regardless, realizing that it’s yours.

“Not bad for your first go.” Peeking over your shoulder, Astarion watches as you sift through everything carefully, unrolling each scroll to read the details before looking back up and raising a brow.

“You sure there’s no tax?” you ask, but all he does is laugh and shake his head.

“Finders keepers, darling. As I promised.”

#the rogue tax #baldur's gate 3 fan fic #bg3 fan fic #astarion #astarion bg3 #astarion fan fic #astarion series #astarion x female reader #astarion x reader #astarion x you #haunted hoedown #haunted hoedown writing challenge #summer writes

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leviathanspain · 10 months

Note

Hey! Saw you were looking for requests. I've seen Alicent's child!Reader manipulating Daemon into being on the Greens side. What about Alicent's daughter accidentally seducing Daemon? Like she's innocent and doesn't realise what she's done but Rhaenyra is not happy about it. (Rhaenyra still loves Daemon and can't get over the fact he is fall for her half-sister)

say yes to heaven

daemon targaryen x targaryen!reader

synopsis: your uncle always had a soft spot for you, but everyone else could see it was something more.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

your mother hardly ever touched you, let alone brush your hair. she was smiling, a pleasant one, as she followed the brush with her fingers, carefully raking through. it was quiet, the only sound was the crackling of the burning wood, candles flickering around you as you gazed into the mirror, eyes honing in on her face.

she put a hand on your shoulder, a hesitance to it that you wondered if she thought you wouldn’t notice. “you looked lovely today.” she commented, her fingers still going to play with your hair, “prince daemon couldn’t take his eyes off of you.” there was a twinge of disdain in her voice. your mother, after all these years, still couldn’t stand your uncle and half-sister. if she could avoid them all together, she would.

you grabbed the lock of silver hair from her fingers and brushed it forward. you looked down at the table in front of you, and noticed the silver hairbrush that your uncle had acquired for you on one of his many travels. you grabbed the silver hairbrush, giving it to your mother, “he was telling stories from his time in the kings guard.” you tried to brush off the tension, but alicent had grabbed the brush with reluctance.

“riñnykeā, come.” your uncle’s voice whispered in your ear, you turned to see his back, already walking off. you rolled your eyes, following closely as he walked. he was walking quickly, and you had to lift your skirts to try and catch up to him, “umbagon!” you shouted, and he slowed just enough for you to match his stride.

you were smiling now, a laugh just on the tip of your tongue as he bumped into you. you laughed, and shoved him lightly, “what is it you have to show me? is it so important that we have to practically walk half the keep?” you turned back to see the path you had been walking. it was far now, and daemon shrugged, “i know you’ll like this.” his eyes lingered, catching your gaze, you blushed and instead looked to the ground for the rest of your trek.

daemons eyes blazed with satisfaction as he saw you practically leaping up and down with joy. you grabbed him, pulling him into a hug as you still continued to squeal. he laughed, watching you light up was what he lived for.

“i assume the walk was worth it?” daemon raised his eyebrows, and you nodded, “very much so.” you grabbed the sword, grabbing it off the table it had been set on. you hissed slightly, and ignored daemons warnings of the metal still being hot. your fingers brushed over the large targaryen emblem, etched onto the swords hilt. there was a weight to it, but your body seemed to adjust. you swung it towards him, smiling, “perhaps the rogue prince would like to spar?” you looked at him, smirking as you brushed his shoulder with your blade.

hung on his hip was dark sister, and daemon couldn’t resist a challenge. he unsheathed it, watching as you stood firmly against him.

rhaenyra could hear the clashing of swords and laughter as she walked. the closer she got to the training room, the more she recognized you, and daemon.

she put a hand on the door, the commotion was now getting louder, and you were laughing more. daemon’s shouts could be heard, but they were in good spirit. rhaenyra swallowed thickly, and pushed the door open.

daemon had finally caught you. you had cut him on his cheek, and decided that running around the training room was apology enough. but he had finally caught you, dropping your blade, you laughed in his arms. “i’m sorry,” your finger moved to wipe the blood from his cheek, “i ruined your handsome face.” daemon hissed slightly at the contact, but shook his head, “you gave me a memory, riñnykeā. a story to tell.” he knew there was nothing more you loved than hearing his war stories, or his stories from his time as king of the narrow sea.

you nodded, “i guess so.” your hand lingered on his cheek, and you caught yourself staring into his eyes for too long, and your head dipped in embarrassment. you pulled away, but rhaenyra had already seen you.

rhaenyra couldn’t shake the nauseous feeling that crashed upon her. swallowing the rising bile wasn’t enough.

“daemon.” her voice sounded steady, there was no shakiness to it that would reveal how she felt. there was disgust, disgust that daemon was currently holding you, barely her sister, in his arms like a wife.

you were pulling away from him, but daemon held you in his arms still, his hand snaking around your waist, pulling at the skin. he looked at rhaenyra and raised his eyebrows, “what?” he sounded hostile, his jaw clenching as he stared at his wife.

you looked between them and realized there was something that neither of them were saying. you grabbed his hand, it was warm to the touch, but you peeled back his fingers, “thank you, uncle. for my gift, but i must go now.” you stepped back to retrieve your blade, tossed to the ground like an afterthought, daemon dipped his head slightly, “yes..” he trailed off, his hand swinging like dead weight as it fell from your waist. his head turned to rhaenyra, his mouth opening, but you were already too far to catch his words.

alicent glared at the blade, wrapped in one of your finer silks, sitting on your bed. you were at your vanity, removing your jewels, you began to undo your hair, preparing to brush it.

“what did rhaenyra say again?” alicent looked away from the blade, warily towards you. you shrugged, “nothing. all she said was his name and they stared at each other for a moment until i left.”

alicent hummed in response, and sighed, “are you to sleep with the blade now? not even your brothers sleep with their weapons.” her comment made you slid your eyes towards her, before scoffing, “my brothers might not sleep with weapons but they have slept with half of westeros.” you grabbed the silver hairbrush, and raked it through your hair, “my uncle gave me a gift that is more than just a weapon.” alicent stayed quiet, and moved to brush your hair, “i think daemon wants to give you more than just a sword.”

it was a week before you saw daemon again. you had been training with your new blade during, hoping to impress him with improved skills.

you had moved towards the stuffed sparring dummy, full of hay. your sword struck it, a deep slash appeared on the dummy’s stomach as you pulled your sword back. you huffed, staring down at your mark with pride.

the sound of clapping echoed out into the room and you turned, seeing your uncle with his shoulder leaning against the doorway. he continued to clap as he walked towards you. excitedly, you walked up to him, “what do you think?”

daemon neared you, grabbing your face in his hands, leaning down, he brought his lips towards yours, “magnificent..” and he brought them down, crashing against yours, you felt his teeth against your lips, moaning as you kissed him.

you dropped your blade again, your hands moving to grab at his back, pulling him closer. he pulled back, drawing a breath, he kissed you once more, “show me, show me again.” he panted, his voice sounded shaky, but his grip on you was determined.

rhaenyra couldn’t stop him. she had begged, pleaded that he leave you alone.

“how could you?!” her cries had been heard across the keep, horrified that her husband would present you with such a gift.

not for the fact that you were her sister, but because he was her husband.

but he was a man, a man she loved, even if he was corrupting her younger sister right before her eyes. she had seen him slip away, knowing where he was off to. all rhaenyra could do was sit in front of the fire, and try not to vomit up the contents of her stomach.

“show me again.” daemon pulled at the shoulder of your dress, his fingers pulling at the fabric. you shuddered at the cold air hitting your bare skin, and did as he said, moving gracefully as your sword cut through the air. daemon watched you, his eyes enchanted by your movements, he couldn’t deny himself of you. finally, with a frustration to it, he pulled your dress down from the shoulder, the fabric tearing roughly as you gasped. nearly dropping the sword, you pawed as your dress fell around you in ribbons.

daemon didn’t miss a beat, “show. me. again.” he demanded, his voice was powerful, showing of the authority he once had.

“yes, my prince.” you whispered, and continued to cut through the air, smiling as you did so.

#daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen x targaryen!reader #daemon targaryen angst #daemon x rhaenyra #daemon targaryen fluff #daemon targaryen #daemon targaryen smut #house of the dragon #hotd smut #hotd angst #hotd fluff

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