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xxsycamore · 6 months

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OFFICE ACTIVITIES

╰┈➤ ❝ That's why I can't go on with my day before I do this to you. I need to see you squirt on my fingers, and I need it now. ❞

Roy Mustang x f!Reader • rating: E (MDNI) • tags: Office Sex; Secret Workplace Relationship; Semi-Public Sex; risky sex; Desk Sex; Sexual Fantasy; Dirty Talk; a lot of dirty talk; Teasing; Kink Negotiation; Glove Kink; ROY'S GLOVES; you know where they're going; Hand & Finger Kink; Finger Sucking; mouth fucking (w fingers); Begging; Praise Kink; Pet Names; Roy is both rough and very loving; Female Ejaculation; Squirting; and i mean SQUIRTING; squirting is the main focus of this fic; Vaginal Fingering; Multiple Orgasms; Overstimulation; Masturbation; Vaginal Sex; Creampie; Kissing; Neck Kissing; Aftercare; Some Humor; Light Dom/sub; Dominant Roy; Dacryphilia • wordcount: 5,211 • masterlist

"Colonel, you wanted to see me—"

"Lock the door."

Blinking, you look at Roy's silhouette where he remains with his back to you in his chair, facing the windows of the sunlit office. You do a small bow while complying like a good subordinate, even when he won't see it, and lock the door from the inside. Still, you can't help but let out a small sigh. The pile of paperwork on his desk is bigger than what you saw this morning, when you expected to find it at least halved by now. But alas. And while everyone is away taking care of their own duties, you have the office to yourselves today, so locking the door is hardly necessary…

"With all due respect Colonel, you really, really don't have to hide the fact that I'm helping you with paperwork. I'm sure everyone knows by now."

Roy spins in his chair bossily, raising a hand to signal he doesn't want to hear more. "I'm not going to ask you to do that."

"No, seriously, it's okay, I-"

"Come here."

You do as told, ready to take the load he'll hand you from another pile, or something else to be taken care of in his stead, anything, really. He's in the habit of procrastinating often, you know your Colonel well. There is something almost endearing about it, when he doesn't realize how bad he is at masking it.

He's gesturing you to stand not in front of his desk but rather to join his side, and you do, finding yourself close enough to notice even how the irritation colors his gaze to make it fiercer. Once you're where he summoned you, Roy removes the folder he was holding in his lap and throws it on the desk.

This tricks you into thinking that the folder is the object of importance in this exchange. When your eyes shift to those of the Colonel for further cues as to what is wanted of you, your attention is inevitably stolen.

Roy's blue uniform trousers are tented with an obvious erection.

Face heating up, you quickly close your slightly agape mouth and try to look anywhere else, and disastrously you meet his gaze. Judging by the way he does nothing to hide the fact that he has a noticeable hard-on, or by the way he looks you right in the eye, you have the feeling that you'll get to live another day. Then he speaks again.

"I can't work like that."

His tone is stern, not even a whisper; something akin to one of his less-straightforward orders that would see him click his tongue when failed to comprehend by the other party.

And you don't want to disappoint.

"I understand. You can't work like that indeed, Colonel…"

And you do understand. If he went this far, then that's all you need to understand that you're allowed to lower your guard now.

It's all so natural with you when Roy beckons you into his lap, and you don't lose time maneuvering yourself because you've claimed this seat dozens of times already; your Colonel has a high sex drive. Despite being lovers after work hours, he still needs you during the day, when you're stuck playing this game of pretend. Or maybe that part is exactly what entices him?

Claiming his lips for an impatient kiss, you can't help the small grunt that escapes your throat as soon as Roy's hands begin roaming and foundling about your chest.

The worst part, you never get used to this.

With color on your cheeks, you try your hardest not to hump his leg and miss entirely the point of your being summoned here. You place another chaste kiss on his lips, boldly taking the decision of when enough is enough as you nudge things forward. Undoing the first button of his uniform, you make place for your lips to touch the heated skin underneath. To feel his hot pulse under your tongue as you place kitten licks there.

Roy's curiosity leaves him enjoying the show as you find your footing again, removing yourself from his lap and instead sinking to your knees with a thud. Your hands make their way downward on his torso and then fall on his thighs, his clothed arousal right in front of you.

"You should've told me sooner, Colonel… I could sneak under your desk, I could even stay there while you attempt to take care of those documents… With the way I'm hidden, surely the door doesn't even need to be locked."

You time your suggestion with palming the tent of his trousers, eager to feel how your words get to his head. But he only smirks.

"As much as I feel compelled, no."

It leaves you confused as you stand between Roy's legs. It's rare for him to refuse a blowjob, the balance of powers in this game of teasing is once again off in favor of his striking dominance.

"On the desk. Now."

Pulse quickening, you find your head clouded when you rise to your feet again. Roy all but backs you onto the desk with his body, your legs parting to make space for him in between.

His backlit frame only highlights the darkness of his eyes as he has you cornered; you prop yourself up on your elbows and wait for something, anything.

"You know, you're the reason I can't do my work right now. I've been thinking about you again. About fingering you."

Fuck. This close up, you're sure he can observe even the tiniest of bodily reactions he rips out of you with words alone. The slight twitching of your leg, the way your teeth sink into your bottom lip as you realize you're at fault for his hard-on. The expectation in your wide eyes that are pleading him to share the images birthed by his brilliant mind that led to this.

"That's why I can't go on with my day before I do this to you. I need to see you squirt on my fingers, and I need it now."

Your breath hitches in your throat, and you swear you can feel the blood pumping in your veins turn to liquid fire as you burn from the inside. Something deep in your belly awakens, steals your resolve and fills your mind with cries of hunger.

Roy wants to make you squirt; to send your body into tremors overpowering your very control of it until you're helpless and making a mess of his hand, of possibly everything - the thought is almost scary, for reasons unknown to you, and you shiver. The signals your brain unwittingly sends south make you feel a certain pressure rooted deep within your core - as if, almost by his spoken command alone, your body can obey and leak arousal through the layers of clothing that you want gone now.

And so you begin to undress, making him chuckle with your impatience. He meets your hands halfway and easily takes over with his much steadier ones, unshaken by building lust unlike you - even if his firm erection which is now pressing against your thigh says otherwise.

He mutters something about how much easier this process would be if you were wearing a miniskirt right now and not those troublesome uniform pants - and the distraction returns some blood to your head as you exaggerate a sigh followed by a tiny laughter. It makes the task of taking off your uniform jacket and unbuttoning your shirt easier.

Unlike the hushed pace of removing the article of clothing, Roy noticeably slows down while peeling the underwear off your lower half, enjoying how he renders you naked and completely on display before him. He pokes a firm index finger on your glistening folds to part them, and you can see his gaze clouding with desire as he inspects the wetness seeping from your core.

Before you can avert your eyes, he locks his with yours. The gentle caress of his warm palm on your belly right over your womb startles you.

"Do you think you can do this for me?"

The whine coming from deep in your throat surprises you, and you feel as if you can get off on this simple, chaste sensation alone. Your pussy throbs in neglect.

"Please."

Roy mocks you just a little bit with his laughter for receiving pleas in place of an answer. Even if it works just about alright with him.

Instead of feeling his fingertips returning to your folds, upon withdrawing, you hear a desk drawer opening. Willing your heart to take the chance and relax, your eyes follow Roy's ministrations as much as they can. He takes something from the drawer and - to your utter surprise, it's a new pair of white pyrotex gloves.

Your legs twitch in a manner of closing, instinctively, as you stare at Roy confused.

"Don't play coy now, I know you've always wanted this. You can't take your eyes off my hands when I'm wearing those."

You puffer your bottom lip, defeated. He's way too observant. Or you're way too horny when it comes to this, to him. Especially now that the only thing you can call the display of his fingers pushing their way inside to find their designated places, vain at the back of his hand protruding, ministrations rougher and rushed because he's not touch you right now, is simply pornographic. They look so good on him, stressing the deftness and length of his beautiful fingers, the flame alchemy transmutation circles at the back stark red to remind they're no ordinary gloves.

"But… isn't this…"

"Dangerous? You think I'd put you in danger?"

There's irony in that line when it comes out of the mouth of Roy Mustang putting on the gloves that give him the name of the Flame Alchemist, but you can will your brain into pushing through the surface to see the offering of trust here. Especially because he is so dangerous is that line so delightful, stroking the trust of your heart that would let him do everything, anything to you.

Combined with his touch returning to caress your skin, this time on the inside of your thigh, you genuinely relax - but only for a second, because you're now busy trying to commit to memory every second of feeling the texture of his gloves on your naked, sensitive skin.

"Besides… I thought you love to say that they're useless when wet."

. . . . .

"Pfft—"

"Are you laughing now?" Roy's eyebrow arches as he stares you down, one part genuine disappointment, one part overemphasis as he knows you'll only laugh harder at his reaction. And laughter is a good balm for relieving the nervousness that made your belly noticeably tense up and cave into itself.

His thoughtfulness goes mostly unnoticed as your laughter quickly morphs into another whine as Roy's glove-clad hand brushes against your arousal. The touch is feather-light, yet when looking down you can unmistakably see the glistening juices on the tip of his middle finger where he used it to swipe along the slit of your pussy.

"Have you fantasized about this before?"

Roy is awful for ending most of what he says with the curve of a question, giving tasks to your brain that are a little too hard to take on. He drives your mind to a place inside the darkest nooks and corners of your perverse imagination where you see yourself stealing his gloves to masturbate with. Or where he's letting out his frustrations on you, you being dragged in an ally just meters away from where some bastard managed to run away from him, tarnishing his plans. You love how he fights but manages to never get his hands dirty. Being dragged to these dangerous missions that give you the chance to see him in action never fails to mix pure, incontrollable desire with the adrenaline running through your veins.

"Yes…" You confess in a tiny voice, and Roy rewards you with another barely-there touch, even if it aims not to bring you pleasure but to simply coat his fingers in your juices and prepare them for penetration. Roy raises them up for you to see. You're already wetter than when you'd finish fingering yourself to the thought of him, and it makes your face red with embarrassment.

"How unfair. I remember being way more concrete when sharing what goes in my mind than you, just now. But I will allow it… you seem to have a hard time forming coherent words right now."

Your brain goes haywire with the rising expectation of feeling him either on your clit or inside you first - the seconds stretching out endlessly before he finally makes his attack, the tip of his middle finger rubbing the tense muscles of your entrance.

Roy is careful as he pushes his finger in, having a good idea about the impact of this long-awaited exploration of the material of the gloves in your most sensitive place.

You're erratic, body spasming to suck him in deeper and pelvic arching to scratch the itch you have deep inside. The fabric adds a delicious layer of thickness to his already girthy finger, but…

"Not- enough— More…!"

Roy clicks his tongue. "You're way too impatient. I'm already being so generous to you, pushing my fingers inside you to give you what you want. Perhaps you can learn from a little exercise before we continue."

Roy's finger exits your heat roughly, in vivid contrast to how he entered you, bringing forth more wetness that helplessly leaks on the office desk. You exhale heavily in defeat, pleading Roy with a wet gaze. He remains unwavering, like training a dog that refuses to obey, and raises his other, dry hand to your face with fingers stretched forward.

The little cute tilt of your head has him letting out a mocking sneaker, and he suppresses the need to scold you for needing verbal orders as well.

"Suck."

Following every little twitching of your pupils as your eyes get hazed with the desire to worship him, Roy is not sure if your mouth falls open to moan or to take him in first. Either way, his fingertips already register the softness of your lips, even through the texture of the glove.

You part your lips further with the intention to fit two of his fingers in your mouth, and Roy allows it. Your tongue explores them, tracing over the seam running down the sides, then the junction of his index and middle fingers. You suck there, barely remembering to look Roy in the eye like you wanted to instead of remaining with your eyes closed in bliss.

He looks… aroused. With how much composure he possesses, the thought of how, in turn, you might look right now scares you. But you can't do anything about it - this, too, is a major fantasy of yours. And it only gets better.

Withdrawing with a wet pop, next you hope to fit another finger in, if Roy is willing to bring them closer together, and he quickly gets the idea.

This is his left hand that he uses to do this to your mouth, and he is still so very skillful with it. He tricks you into thinking you could do whatever you want with his three fingers in your mouth, but as soon as you lower your guard, Roy shifts their position, grabbing your tongue.

Your eyes widen, pathetically trying to call out to him in the one moment your ability to speak is stolen. Roy enjoys the muffled sound that resembles his name and continues to hold out your tongue between his fingers, watching you begin to droll.

From there on it's easy for him to shift his fingers once more, placing them flat against your wet tongue before gathering them together again…and beginning to slide them on your tongue.

The place between your legs is burning, and it feels like torture when you already know what it feels like when he pleasures you. You'd much rather he didn't touch you there at all before this, inner walls contracting to chase after the faint memory of his single digit's shape where it was buried inside you.

Roy fucks your mouth with his gloved fingers, and you moan around them. It's a filthy display, with your cunt dripping on his desk, and he can't avert his gaze for a second.

"Enjoying yourself? Maybe I can keep doing this until you cum and we end things here?"

Alerted, you want to communicate your wish to go all the way with what he planned for you, and to speak you need to withdraw - but the second you lean back, Roy's hand pushes forward, following your movement without letting you escape.

Just before you can choke, Roy removes his fingers from your mouth, and you see how much they're covered in your saliva. The risk did things to you you're unwilling to admit.

"Okay, I get it. You need more."

Finally able to take mouthfuls of oxygen again, you feel silly for being so worked up and breathless from just this. But Roy likes what he sees, especially when you try to present your cunt better for him, spreading your legs further apart.

"You're absolutely leaking…"

"Colonel, Please…" You beg, attaching the honorific to your pleas because you know the effect it has on him. "Colonel Mustang, please fuck me with your fingers. Make me squirt."

He returns his right hand to the burning skin of the apex of your thighs, tracing along your outer lips with a small hum.

"Okay then. Let's make your cunt squirt for me."

You throw your head back a second too quickly, as the heavenly feeling of Roy entering you again domineers over the bits of decency left in you. His finger bottoms out in you, swirls around until his palm is facing downwards, and is taken out again - just for you to instead feel the tips of middle and ring fingers prodding your hole next, in the same position.

"Nghh—" You groan, remembering to breathe as Roy explores your tight insides. You begin to relax, and the movement of his fingers gradually becomes smoother. The wet sounds of his entry come to your ears every time he pushes out the way out and pushes in again, and they embarrass you a little.

After a good few strokes like this, Roy turns his hand around.

He keeps his fingers buried deep inside, unmoving save for his fingertips that begin to search around, prodding into your front wall, looking for that spongy part inside you that will make you see stars.

More heat rushes to your lower body and you let a particularly loud gasp when Roy finds it. He mutters a word of self-satisfaction and repeats the motion, hitting your G-spot.

The pleasure begins to build with a dangerous speed, and you barely contain your moans. There's still something missing, but if you receive it right now, it will be too much.

Roy knows your body and its limits well. He doesn't force the pleasure on you, and keeps a steady but slow pace. Monitoring your sweet sounds, he is careful as to when to move on to the next step.

"I'm going to touch you here next."

Narrating his ministrations, he manages to make you focus. You fix your position on the desk again, making sure to watch what he's doing.

Roy puts the thumb of his left hand flat on your clit. At first, the mere presence of it is enough to send sparks of stimulation deep inside you, creating a loop of pleasure with where his fingers are buried, but you get used to it quickly. Then, he begins to rub your aroused nub, and you go erratic once again.

"Ahh— Too much-"

"Shh, I got you." He gives you a break, simply resting his thumb there without caressing, while he focuses on thrusting his fingers in and out.

Your heavy breaths are entangling with needy moans as the pleasure builds, this damned feeling of not enough threatening to eat you up from the inside. Roy knows your body well in combination with masterfully reading your reactions, and generously gives you more when you ask for it. The balls of your feet press harder into the surface of the desk near the very edge of it, your torso lifting just a little bit, to chase after Roy's movements inside you. He lets you rock back into his fingers, more wetness coming out and lubricating his entry.

"I'm going to speed up now. Tell me if you need to stop."

You breathe heavily through your nose, nodding your head more times than he needs for confirmation, and it makes him chuckle. The corners of his lips don't stay curled for longer than a second because of his growing concentration.

The rubbing on your clit returns, and Roy's fingers don't slow down. Standing there with nowhere to escape but to receive his rough, filthy yet loving pleasuring, you grip the edge of the desk behind your back preparing yourself, as it builds up.

"Roy- it feels a bit strange—"

"In a good way? Like you wanna go?"

Your answer comes a bit late because your mouth is stuck falling open in the face of those unfamiliar sensations. You hurry to blurt it out before stops, god forbid.

"In a very good way…! Just please, don’t stop!"

Not needing to be told twice, Roy keeps the pace, firmly hitting that same spot inside you with his fingers while rubbing on your clit. He watches your body spasm as you let out a scream, and then it happens.

Liquid begins to stream out of you, coating Roy's fingers - a small flow at first, before you all but hear the sound of a squirt escaping you.

"Mmm…" Roy grunts at the sight and the feeling of you closing up from the inside on him, fingering you through it until your body begins twitching too much. Careful not to overstimulate you, he withdraws your fingers, causing a smaller squirt to flow out.

Breathing heavily with your mouth open, you close your legs a little bit now that Roy's hands aren't between them, and you look at the puddle next to them. When you return your gaze to Roy, he's looking straight at you, leaning in for a kiss.

He's definitely not kissing you enough during all of this, but you don't feel too cocky right now to complain about that. Not when his kiss feels so rewarding.

"My good girl. I knew you could do it. Did that feel good?"

Roy drinks down your small noises of lingering satisfaction, and you whisper a breathless 'yes' before kissing him yet again. It makes you a bit too distracted, and you almost jump at the feeling of his hands parting your legs again.

"Think you could do it again?"

You look at him in disbelief, but it might be directed at yourself and the ridiculously deepening arousal you feel more than anything, your core pulsing in anticipation, aching to feel Roy's fingers again.

He knows that look. Pecking your lips with his once again, he slips his fingers in.

"Put your hands around my neck."

Your heart leaps at the command and you shift your body, grabbing into him for purchase. Your ass is on the edge of the desk now, and you're holding Roy for dear life, his broad shoulders being your anchor.

"Will it be easier for you this time, hmm? You're nice and open for me."

"Roy… don't say things like that…"

"But it's true. I love knowing that I can make your body soft and pliant, letting me do such a naughty thing with it."

You groan and shove your head in the junction of his neck and shoulder, warming the skin with your breath.

"Don't hide. Come on, kiss me."

It's easier said than done, when the sensation of what is happening between your legs rules over every coherent part of your mind. Roy knows your kiss would be lacking and sloppy, and maybe that's exactly why he wants it.

His tongue shoves between your agape lips, dominating yet another part of you as he continues to finger you while avoiding the place that is swollen and needy for his touch, as if testing if you can start leaking juices again even without the stimulation.

The strange feeling builds again, and this time you're not afraid of it. You break the kiss to plead.

"Roy…Roy! Touch me more! Now!"

Hearing the low rumble laced with dark wanton deep in his throat, you roll your eyes to the back of your head as he begins stroking your clit again.

Your moans of his name grow from encouraging to warning, as you feel the water balloon deep in your core close to popping once again. And then it happens.

Large portions of liquid fall noisily to the floor, mixing up with the sound of water squirting out of your body. Tears form in the corners of your eyes as a purely physiological reaction, the pleasure playing a big part in it.

Roy's large palm is so warm as it moves up and down whole, unlike how he'd only move his fingers earlier, and you feel played like an instrument; like you're close to witnessing the true strength in him that you lustfully admire finally inflicted on your body - in the most perverse, but loving and safe kind of ways.

"Gods— I can't tear my eyes off of you. Look at you."

Planting his forehead against yours, your eyes trail from his beautiful lashes up close to the place he's admiring, and you have to fight a surge of embarrassment. This is what he made out of you, you're so very his in this moment.

"Roy…—Ahh-"

He speeds up again, not having left your core for a moment, and you feel yourself starting to do it all over again, even if it's more of a current flowing out of you instead of the earlier powerful jets. What builds up inside you is different this time, a feeling you know all too well, something that you were lingering along the surface of for the past few minutes but that was always pushed to the back of your nerves in the face of the new, unfamiliar sensations.

"Come for me. Come on my fingers."

Roy fingers you silly, your walls clamping down on him as he does it just the way you love, no tricks this time to conquer your body, he just gives it to you. And you take it oh so willingly and greedily.

It takes no time for you to reach the heavens, and you moan out his name once again, feeling the electricity of an orgasm surge through every nook and corner of your being, toes curling in pleasure.

Roy holds you through it, making sure you ride your high all the way. Towards the end of it, your leaking hole begins helplessly pushing out more liquid.

"Roy— Too much—Roy-"

"Fuck." He curses as he slowly withdraws his fingers, noticing how thickly they're covered in your warm juices all the way down his palm. He enters you with one finger to tease just a little, meeting no resistance. "Fuck." He repeats as he reaches down to palm his bulge. He moves to his belt and begins undoing it in a hurry.

Pulse beginning to drum in your ears, you continue holding onto his tall frame as your eyes widen. Just how worked up did that make him? You figure he must be painfully hard by now, watching you perform the one thing that would get him erect relying on fantasies alone.

Wrapping the hand dripping with your juices around his cock, he uses the slick to lubricate his pumps as he pleasures himself at the sight of you. It lights a new fire inside you and you can't help but watch; the reddened head of his cock, the vein running down his side protruding with the rush of blood, and his culmination dragging closer.

He lies you back down on the desk and you place your hands below your hips, opening up more for him, so Roy can get a nice view of your still swollen lips and pulsing hole. He moves in closer, bringing his strokes so close to your pussy that it makes you clench down so hard when he accidentally brushes the tip against your inner thigh.

"You're perfect. So perfect for me- Haah—"

You rarely hear him let out more than a grunt, a man in control of himself even in the face of consuming wanton. It's rewarding, knowing that it's you who turned him into that. There's nothing more that you want right now than to watch him spill all over your spent cunt, coating it with his warm cum.

Roy keeps stroking, and you wonder if he's fallen prey to the heightened stimulation of the gloves too, seeing that he didn’t bother to take them off even after making use of the juices coating them. It could be this that works him to orgasm so soon, or it could be everything else combined with it, but you soon hear the familiar sounds of him losing control.

In the next moment he erupts, hot-white pleasure reaching to his very gaze as you see him taking in the sight of you hungrily. Warm ropes of cum land on you one after another as Roy pumps his cock, the swollen tip kissing your sensitive folds.

He loses the inner fight and presses forwards, pushing the bulbous head of his cock inside you, moaning as another gush of semen leaves him and fills you with scorching warmth.

You mewl at the unexpected contact, shudders of pleasure rippling through your body as you continue to feel his cum even after he removes his cock from inside you. You feel it drip out thickly, mixing with the rest of the mess left by your passionate session.

"Kiss me, Roy!"

"So demanding…" Hurrying to comply with your weak, adorable command, Roy seals your lips with his before you can scold or bite him. With how good he seemed to be making you feel, he's not too worried about facing those protests, though.

You and Roy remain like that for awhile, catching your breaths but losing them right anew in passionate kisses, not breaking off the contact even as he tucks himself back in his trousers and readjusts his messed-up clothes, removing his gloves as well. He tells you to wait for him as he goes to take something to clean you off with, but you just cling harder to his frame.

"Stay a little longer…"

He exaggerates a sigh but still smiles stupidly against your nape.

The late morning sun has nothing on the warmth that comes from Roy's embrace, and you bask in it.

"You know…" He begins, playing idly with your hand with his now bare one, as if he had started missing the direct touch so soon. You hum in question, and he continues.

"I want to take care of those documents even less now."

"…ROY!"

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ecoamerica · 2 months

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vampiric-hunger · 3 months

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𝕕𝕒𝕣𝕜𝕟𝕖𝕤𝕤 𝕠𝕗 𝕤𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕟: 𝕔𝕙.𝟙 - 𝕝𝕦𝕤𝕥

pair: Ascended!Astarion x female!reader

tags: no y/n is used, rating - E, TW: mentions of childhood sexual abuse, general sexual abuse and mentions of sexual slavery (all of those happened in the past AA is not doing this to reader). PIV, creampie, blood drinking.

summary: you're skilled, driven and most importantly - ambitious. but even as someone in your position, a trained assassin and a leader of your own Guild, you still lend yourself to jobs that are of importance. even if those jobs sometimes mean attending parties. tonight - it's a masquerade and you're bored out of your mind, until the man who hired you to protect him leaves you alone, at the mercy of a stranger who suddenly took a keen interest in you.

this is a 7 chapter fic exploring Ascended Astarion through a lens of 7 deadly sins.

a/n: as voted by my readers - here's Ascended Astarion and my take on 7 deadly sins that i looked at through his character. enjoy! <3

Another boring party, another boring masquerade.

Your eyes sweep over the crowd but nothing seems unusual for the time being. People dancing, people chatting, people drinking. Most of them you recognize even behind their masks. Simple mannerisms, voices or even who they are spending time with tells you more than they probably would want to let on. It’s not hard for you to tell who’s who. After all, you worked for so many of them already.

Tonight you work as a guard for especially paranoid noble. Normally you don’t let yourself get hired for tasks, you have your whole Guild of experienced thieves and assassins to do all the minor and major works, but when the richest of Baldur’s Gate want your services specifically – you comply. Not only they pay handsomely, you also make connections among the patriars that do pay off in a long run.

No, you’re no Nine-fingers Keane, not yet at least, but you have gathered a respectable resume of deeds that are well known in the underbelly of Baldur’s Gate. You have a goal and that goal is simple – to control every Guild by taking over and uniting them. You’ve been working for years to make this happen and you built yourself from the ground up. Just like you escaped slavery in Hells, so will you become what you want to be – the ultimate ruler of Guilds of this godsdamned city that betrayed you before.

But you won’t let these thoughts distract you, not tonight. Not that you expect anything to happen in the first place. It’s a masquerade after all, who would even target the patriar you’re accompanying is beyond you. He’s a man who is scared to step on anyone’s toes, let alone anyone’s who could be a danger to him. Alas, he hired you and he’s paying so well you couldn’t refuse the offer. So now you’re here, in your best dress, with a domino mask on your face and a glass of wine in your hand. And, of course, couple daggers hidden under your dress. You are always prepared.

The patriar in question, one exalted Lord Goldbrith, is by your side and chatting with gusto to a young man. You suspect he brought you here not only to guard his life, but perhaps to help him disperse the rumors surrounding his sexuality. Not that most would judge in the first place, nobles and patriars probably are the most relaxed people when it comes to sexual liberty. However, Goldbrith’s issue is that his father wants an heir and if your little ‘prince’ over there leaves no such possibility by admitting that he’s not interested in women, well… then he risks losing the inheritance. And you’re not sure this man knows how to tie his own shoes, being pampered like a child all his life.

You almost roll your eyes, thinking how this is the worst some people have to deal with. No, they will never know what it is to be molested by their father and brother, no, they won’t know what it is to be sold to a brothel as a ten-year old and used. No, they won’t know what it’s like to be sold to Hells only to continue being a slave of desires of others just as you have been up here. You don’t scowl, but when you look at these spoiled men and women you feel disgust and anger.

No, stop, inhale… exhale. Your past is your past, but you’re stronger now, better. And you will have Baldur’s Gate by the throat eventually. You just have to be patient, have to spread your connections wider and have as many people indebted to you as possible. So that you can use them when the right time comes.

Again you inhale and slowly exhale, calming yourself. When you become the Guild Leader of Baldur’s Gate then each and every person in this room will have to treat you with respect. And most of them already do because you have made a name for yourself in these past years, for what it counts.

“Dearest, do you mind if I accompany this fine gentleman to the restroom? He says he cannot find it.” Lord Goldbrith is now talking to you, making you snap out of your bitter thoughts, and you look at him.

“Alone?” you ask and the man now seems flustered.

“Yes. There’s no need for you to come along, I think I will be perfectly safe. And it’s not far, if something happens - I’ll shout for you.” a nervous smile, intertwined fingers, yes, you know exactly what he’s going to be doing with this so-called fine gentleman. After all, he hired you to protect him and if he temporarily doesn’t need it…

“Very well, find me when you return, I shouldn’t stray too far.” you respond and Goldbrith pats your hand holding the glass of wine.

“I’ll be fine. Go, dance, mingle. Seems this event is quite safe for me.”

Sure it is, you think to yourself. You see his anxious desire to depart immediately from your company and you have no reason to hold him. He paid you already, after all.

“Of course, Lord Goldbrith.” you nod again and a smile of relief forms underneath his mask, you can see it in how the corners of his eyes crinkle.

“I’ll find you when I’m back.” his hand leaves yours and you watch Goldbrith navigate the crowd with his newest boy toy.

You can’t help but smile to yourself. At least he’ll be happy tonight and it won’t harm you to assure others he’s here with you if anybody asks. When you are paid so handsomely - you will tell people the sky is brown and grass is red.

“I saw your companion leave. Curious to ask why.” a voice you don’t recognize asks for your attention.

You turn to see a man standing close to your left side. His silver hair is immaculate with flowing locks and the domino mask that he’s wearing is bejeweled with what like looks actual gems. Behind the mask you see red piercing eyes. The man smiles and it’s more of a smug smirk than a heartfelt expression. It looks so natural on him that you are sure this is his default expression. A dangerous smile. A smile that spells ruin for those who scorn him; you’ve seen smiles like this before.

“If you’re curious, why don’t you follow him and ask yourself?” you lift your glass to your lips and take a sip, keeping your eyes on him.

“I’m not in a habit of following men.” elf responds, his tone of voice is cocky and the implication of his words is clear - he’s the one who leads and not the one who follows.

Problem is, you don’t recognize him. Even with the mask on, you can tell that he’s a man of beauty, surely you must’ve heard of him even if you haven’t met him. But this is a masquerade, people don’t share names until midnight and there’s still couple hours left on the clock for that. You think how you can get his name out of him but your thoughts get interrupted because this mystery man steps even closer to you and glances at your glass.

“More wine, my dear?”

Tsk. How much you despise nobles thinking they can use pet names on you. But you bite your tongue.

“I can serve myself if needed.” you step back from him and see his curious eyes examine your masked face. What does he even want?

Your gaze snaps down the moment you see him reach out. His fingers bear silver rings, some of them have gems, you recognize each and every one of those gems even before he steps closer again just to take your hand in his slender, manicured fingers.

“I thought maybe you could grant me a dance since your partner seems to be busy with a gentleman.” a pointed tone that his words carry tell you everything – he knows about the arrangement you have with Lord Goldbrith. How - you have not even a slightest idea, but he knows.

Except you’re not concerned that he knows, instead you notice his warm and soft touch when he raises your hand and leans down to meet it with his lips. Something that should be only a small peck gets prolonged and it’s as if he’s testing you because his eyes meet yours while his lips are still on your hand. It’s a long moment. Too long to be appropriate but you don’t pull your hand away.

“A dance? Perhaps I can do that.” you answer and offer the mysterious white-haired man a smile. He smiles too and straightens his back but keeps holding your hand.

“Wonderful. I think a waltz is about to start.” he says in a voice like honey. He’s interested in you, you can tell that much.

So maybe you could use him, just to relieve some pressure. It doesn’t have to be serious, these types of trysts never are. And you have been with couple other patriars like this before. Sneaking away from the main room, finding an empty study or an unused stairwell, quickly satisfying your needs and his without any need to talk about it afterwards. No strings attached, just pure carnal lust being gratified with a willing partner. This handsome elf could become this type of partner, if only for tonight.

You nod to him and put away your goblet to a nearby table, then feel him tug at your hand. You follow him to the ballroom and instead of staying at the edges of the dance floor as not to interrupt other twirling couples, this noble leads you right to the center. You don’t shy away when there’s attention placed on you, but tonight you are on the job and you would prefer if you weren’t noticed. Nonetheless, once more you let him do as he pleases and don’t pull your hand from his firm grasp or don’t try to hide away.

If he wants a dance with everyone watching – you will give him that dance.

When people part giving him and yourself the way to the center of the floor, this mysterious man finally stops and looks at you with a smirk. Even with the mask covering half his face you can see confidence, no, arrogance etched in every expression he makes. You don’t mind that. Something about arrogant men always intrigued you. Maybe because you too are full of pride, and you think that if only these men knew what you’re capable of, they wouldn’t be so self-assured around you. It gives your ego a boost, feeding your own arrogance, making you almost fearless no matter the situation, no matter the opponent or, just like in this case, no matter the partner. A dancing partner, at that, at least for now.

The man pauses, the music stops for a moment while musicians adjust for the upcoming tune and he steps closer, now pulling you closer with practiced ease. His hand on your lower back push you against his chest and you raise your eyebrows even though he cannot see it because of your own mask. Waltz is not danced chest to chest but it looks like he doesn’t care about etiquette or social manners. You don’t mind that at all, you like a man who knows what he’s doing.

And then the music starts again.

Your partner eases into the music with grace, his steps are easy, fluid and you follow him with as much grace as you can. It’s not your first waltz but he’s obviously a better dancer than you can ever hope to be.

“You know people are watching, right?” you say to the elf, bringing attention to how close he’s holding you and he scoffs arrogantly.

“We’re beautiful together, of course they are watching.” his hand on your lower back pushes slightly harder and you nearly lose your step.

A cocky grin on his face tells you that it was intentional. You smirk back to him because you know what he’s doing or at least trying to do. He’s sparring, trying to establish himself as superior to you in this setting. Maybe he’s trying to show that he’s superior over everyone in this ballroom. You’re not sure nor you care.

“I would like to know your name, darling.” your dancing noble says again when you don’t reply quick enough and you slightly smile, he’s getting impatient.

“It’s a masquerade, Lord. My name’s a mystery just as yours.” your reply rewards you with a chuckle that you feel reverberating from his chest against yours.

“Very well.” the man says and you can feel his fingers give yours a short squeeze. “But I will want to see what’s behind that mask once midnight strikes.” again his eyes pierce into yours and for just a split second the world around you melts away.

The chatter and laughter of patriars disappears, the music is all you hear. You feel the fabric of your dress brush against your legs and his as you both spin in motion to the rhythm of waltz. His hand so warm on yours, so warm even through your dress on your back. At last it feels like you both dance with the grace of gods themselves as he leads your steps. And you realize that you don’t want to wait until midnight to rip his mask off and see what’s underneath.

Yes, he will serve well to satisfy your lust, to help you take off the edge. You smile to him.

“Maybe we don’t have to wait for midnight after all.” you tell him and see a flash of surprise that turns into smugness. You also realize that waltz is coming to an end, perfect timing.

Before the elf replies the music tapers off and you step back from him despite his attempt to keep your body close to his, then you do a proper curtsey in thanks for the dance. Mystery man bows too, one hand behind him, but his eyes never leaving yours.

After you both stand tall again, you turn from him and walk off, sensing rather than knowing that he’s following. No one seems to be paying attention anymore, now that your dance is over and another one begins, and you weave through the crowd with easy expertise of an assassin. Passing unnoticed and uninterrupted. But you do quickly glance back to the spot where you were standing earlier, to check if Lord Goldbrith returned but seeing no sign of a man you turn your attention to the hallway for which you are aiming.

Soon enough you turn a corner but don’t get far before you feel yourself being pulled back by your wrist. You stop and look behind you only to see that the elf indeed has followed you. He tugs at your arm just like he did when leading you to the middle of a ballroom and you smirk, pressing your palms against his chest to soften the impact of your body against his.

He leans closer, his lips seeking yours yet you push away from him, seeing questions in his eyes, but instead of answering you grab his hand and make him trail after you in hurried footsteps. To your relief the elf doesn’t utter a word and you pass couple of doors before you stop and push at the third one, hoping that this room is potentially unoccupied, since you assumed the first two would be. That’s how it usually goes during these types of noble parties.

Yes, the room is empty and the silver-haired man follows you inside hurriedly, pushing the door closed behind him. When you stop he stops too and you release his hand, turning to him. For a moment you look each other in the eyes, you feel your heart beating heavy and fast in your chest. And then both of you step to each other at the same time as if you both heard a silent permission.

He grabs at your mask and you grab at his, pulling them away from your faces just a split second before your lips meet. You kiss him almost harshly, your desire taking control of you and he responds with same passion, pushing his tongue into your mouth in an instant. The masks drop to the floor and he steps forwards with you, pushing you backwards with his hands on your hips and your arms around his neck, until you bump into the bookshelf behind you.

Elf’s hands begin clawing at your dress, lifting the skirts up in a hurry and your hands blindly find their way to the buttons of his pants. The kiss is deep, the wine you taste on his tongue is even better than one from a glass. For a moment your tongue catches on his fang but you don’t have the time to wonder what’s that about. No, this moment is about getting and giving in equal measure.

The kiss breaks for a moment, you feel elf’s breath on your mouth and gasp softly when you feel his fingertips trace the outline of your underwear. You open your eyes and find him looking at you with intense lust-filled gaze, at the same time you finally manage to slip your hand into his pants. As you reach down, his precum stains your fingers and you smirk, palming his hard erection.

But your smile gets wiped off your face as the handsome elf pulls at the hem of your panties and slides two fingers down your slit, dipping just the tips of them into your core. He exhales with obvious lust and removes his hand, grabbing your hips as if preparing to lift you. You don’t waste time and you free his cock out of its confines. The moment you do that, the man lifts you by the hips. Immediately you wrap your legs around his waist, your hands gripping his shoulders for purchase. Without delay you feel your panties being pulled to the side and smooth tip of elf’s erection pressing against your soaked cunt.

No words are needed and no time is wasted. He thrusts into you with force and you moan, throwing your head back from the pleasure of him filling you and stretching you in most wonderful way. You quickly bite your lip down, trying to silence any forthcoming cries but you are not successful because when he starts pumping - it’s hard and demanding.

The room fills with pants and groans and you close your eyes, feeling the man’s lips on your neck, kissing and tasting your skin with his tongue. You whine with each snap of his hips, with each claim of his to your body, and you let go of his shoulders, your fingers reach over your head and to your sides, looking for a shelf to grasp onto, but for a while you only find the spines of books, pulling at them and making them drop to the floor with silent thuds.

Then your eyes snap open as pain briefly shoots through your shoulder but you immediately realize what’s going on. Of course he’s a vampire. The crimson eyes, the fangs, strange you didn’t realize it earlier. You let your eyelids drop as the vampire sucks on your blood while relentlessly pounding into you at the same time, and you have to clench your teeth to prevent yourself from shouting into the ceiling. It’s not your first time sleeping with a vampire so you’re not afraid, if anything it gives you a thrill of danger that you never get from other patriars in such short-term arrangements.

You feel the fangs leave your neck and a greedy tongue laps at the bite marks left behind while you finally manage to grasp onto the shelves, clinging for your dear life. You crane your head and look at the elf, seeing that his eyes are on you, then he catches your lips in a scorching kiss, his teeth tugging at your bottom one and you mewl at that, it’s harder and harder for you to keep silent as your pleasure begins to build. Your partner in this quick tryst pounds himself so religiously into you that you are beginning to feel sore already and that only adds to the pleasure.

For a moment the elf just keep thrusting while biting on your lower lip and when you look at him he keeps an eye contact with you, but then his teeth part and he presses his face to the side of your neck that doesn’t have his fresh bite mark. You hear him gasp for air and you know he’s close too. You release the shelf with one hand to tangle your fingers into his hair, grasping firmly just before you close your eyes again and let go.

A deep thrust, another one, then another one - your mewls follow each other of them and your mind swims just before your orgasm overwhelms your senses. You don’t know how loud you are or how hard you are gripping vampire’s hair, all you know is pleasure and his cock pushing you to your limits. You don’t even know how long the waves of pleasure rip through you, making your cunt clench on his shaft so deliciously, as if on a quest to milk him sooner than he wishes. You hear him grunt something, a word, maybe two, you’re not sure and it doesn’t matter.

When your bliss begins subsiding and your mind starts to clear you find yourself still being fucked. You whimper, sore and satisfied, but pull at elf’s hair, making him look at you. His face is sweaty, his teeth are clenched, showcasing his fangs, and you see that he’s close. You heavily kiss him but he doesn’t respond. Instead he grunts against your mouth and then moans, his thrusts becoming erratic at the same moment as he begins spilling himself deep inside of you. You slide your tongue against his teeth, your eyes heavy-lidded from your own pleasure and additional satisfaction seeing that he seems to be enjoying this too, like it’s a compliment to you. And then his hips finally stop, his grip on your hips is slippery and he’s digging his fingers into your flesh, leaving bruises for the future.

The elf opens his eyes to look at you, he’s utterly out of breath but you don’t let him say anything, you just kiss him again and he responds, albeit less energetically now. You had a moment to recover while he just rode out his orgasm to the fullest. With a smirk you lean your head back and push at him slightly, making him set you on the floor. The white-haired man looks disheveled and you most likely look the same, but you just smirk to him, taking in his appearance, the messy hair, the open pants and his softening erection, still leaking last drops of cum. A wonderful view and a state that you like seeing men in.

With sweaty palms you smoothen out skirts of your dress and pick up your domino mask from the floor, then give him a wink, walking out of the room. You don’t see the look the man gives you: one of shock and partial anger that you’re leaving without another word. As if he’s realizing it is you who used him and not the other way around. Your arrogance leaves him stumped. But you finally know who he is: Lord Astarion Ancunin.

With a satisfied grin you walk back to the ballroom, trying to ignore your underwear that’s getting soaked with his seed and your own arousal, but you know he won’t follow you right now, most likely too insulted that you used him to get relief. You put on your mask again and enter the ballroom, immediately seeing Lord Goldbrith impatiently tapping his foot at the same spot where he stood last before leaving with a young gentleman. When you approach him he looks irritated.

“Let’s leave.” he demands and you raise your eyebrows but you don’t argue. If you can leave early and go home to wash up that’s all the better. After all, the moment Lord Goldbrith is in his carriage your job is done and you won’t argue against a short night.

“As you say.” you nod and Goldbrith curtly nods in response, then marches towards the main exit.

You follow him but give one more glance behind you before you leave the room. You notice white curls and a crimson-eyed intense, angry gaze in your direction just before dancing couples hide all of it away.

You smirk to yourself. You have a suspicion you will meet him again.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #astarion #ascended astarion #lord astarion #ascended starion smut #ascended astarion x female reader #ascended astarion x reader #female reader #astarion x reader #x reader #astarion smut #reader insert

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xxavengingangelxx · 8 months

Text

Long Way from Home 5/?

"There's a story behind every person. There's a reason why they're the way they are. They aren't just like that because they want to be. Something in the past created them, and sometimes it's impossible to fix."-Hanny Quinn

Ya'll know the drill. I assume this isn't ya'll's first rodeo when it comes to reading this but alas, because it's a dark fic, I will post triggers again. MDNI, 18+ TRIGGERS: Implied/attempted suicide, self-harm, torture, brainwashing, physical abuse, mind fuckery, Stockholm syndrome-related mental gymnastics, trauma bonding, mentions of foster care, threatened/implied/referenced rape, EXTREMELY dubious consent. If I miss, any let me know, please! DARK FIC

You’re shaken awake and you almost immediately start swinging. It was dark.

“Whoa,” an unfamiliar voice.

“Who are you?!” you yelled.

You found yourself pinned to the bed. Whoever it was, he was too strong to fight off.

“Hey,” the large male figure reached over, turning on a bedside lamp while easily keeping you pinned.

You saw his vest, how he was dressed.

And you breathed a sigh of relief.

A Shadow.

“Kole,” he introduced himself. He released you but kept his hands at the ready in case you lashed out again.

You stopped struggling. “Valdez,” you said before you used the blanket to cover up.

“Look,” Kole stated, his green eyes looking eerie in the low light of the lamp. “I’m not even supposed to touch you,” he paused before continuing, “But Graves’s orders said wake you up if it looked like you were having a nightmare.”

“Where’s Graves?”

He shrugged. “I was just told to stay here,”

“Why?”

He scoffed. “Why? Protection. You’re family.”

And that gave you pause.

“I’m…what?”

“You’re family,” he repeated simply. He then stood up. “I’m technically not supposed to be in here with you like this,” he signaled at your state of undress.

And with that he walked out, leaving you with only yourself for company.

Shadows would come up to you, asking you to translate radio communications and other bits of information. You’d comply but your mind wandered. Where was Graves? Was he safe?

You woke up alone and it was dark. Another night, another nightmare. You kept repeating that dream where 141 captured you and treated you like an enemy combatant. It had been almost two months of not knowing where you are. There were no windows of course and the lights to the room were off.

You glanced at your watch. 2100. It was 9 at night. Somewhere.

Did 141 really try to come get you a week ago? And had they really shot you? They’d been aiming for the Shadow beside you…right? Or had it really not been 141 after all? Was Graves playing mind games again? But even if it had been them how did they find you? And where did reality end and that weird dream begin?

The thought of them finding you again had you questioning how you would react. You’d been with Graves for almost 2 months now. Ghost would likely take the lead seeing as Soap, Price, and Gaz might be too ‘emotional’ for lack of a better term. König would be hiding in the shadows. König you had to watch out for because he specialized in hostage rescue.

Ghost would be emotional but he wouldn’t show it. But he’d make sure you were under control before anything else. Ghost would ensure you were disarmed and bound. He wouldn’t hesitate to duct tape your mouth if you started screaming or running your mouth.

The interrogation wouldn’t be pretty.

You couldn’t handle being interrogated again. You were sure you’d die. Besides, you were used to Graves and you weren’t sure how you’d handle it if you were separated from him. I mean, hell, you couldn’t even sleep right without him anymore.

“What’cha thinkin’ about, darlin’?”

You would never admit it but hearing his voice was a relief. You walked towards him because…because you didn’t know why.

“Hey,” He seemed…happy?

“What’s up?”

“We don’t have to worry about 141 anymore.”

Your heart skipped a beat. But did a skip a beat in fear or guilt or regret? Or was it relief?

“What do you mean?”

“Pretty sure they think we’re both dead.” Graves smirked.

“What? How?”

“They blew up a tank when they thought I was inside.”

“Remote controlled?” you asked.

“Yes ma’am,”

“So why’d they think I’m dead?”

“They found your dog tags in the wreckage,” Graves added. “They looked destroyed.”

So this is what it had come to? Making 141 think they’d killed you? Why was Graves so obsessed with you?

You could only imagine how 141 would have reacted upon coming across your scorched dog tags.

With your name on them.

They hadn’t seen you in two months almost. Right when they thought they’d saved you, when they thought they’d killed Graves and thought you were only a few steps away.

And now they believed they’d killed you. The ultimate curse of friendly fire.

Soap would be a mess. Especially if he’d been the one who threw the grenade or explosive that destroyed the tank. He’d yell, he’d scream, all with tears in his eyes. Soap might act tough but deep down he was a softie who saw his team members as family. You suddenly remembered all his flirty, funny jokes. He always could make you laugh. He’d try to repeat your Spanish and make you laugh. You remember you’d gotten drunk one time and kissed him but he’d said, “No, lass, not with you like this. You’re drunk.”

Ghost likely wouldn’t react outwardly, wanting to be a stronghold for his team. But alone? Ghost would be broken. He’d been tortured and held captive. He knew how awful it was. At first, he had questioned your ability to be on the team. He’d called you fragile. “Just so smol, lil sis,” he’d said with his accent. He sure didn’t question your size when you’d been able to squeeze into tight spaces and climb into air ducts to get intel. He’d gotten so used to seeing you banged up and got tired of seeing you having to be stitched up from climbing that he’d made sure to get you shin and arm guards. Ghost…Ghost would kill Graves slow if he ever caught him.

Price would be livid. Livid wouldn’t even begin to cover it. Price would look for anyone to blame and he’d be sure to make them suffer. Price saw 141 like they were his children. And you were the only little girl, the little sister in the group. And he had indeed been like a father figure to you. You’d never had a father figure in your life, at least not a stable one. He picked up on Spanish the fastest, much to your surprise.

Gaz was another softie although he did not display his emotions as outwardly as Soap. No, Gaz would try to support his team but once he was alone, he’d likely tear up. He’d blame himself and ask himself what he could’ve done better. Gaz would never let himself live it down. He was another one that struggled with Spanish but he loved hearing you speak it.

Now you didn’t know König much. He was definitely the quiet type and he did not display much emotion. You remembered once sitting next to him with both of you hanging your legs off the chopper and then you realized you were both swinging your legs like schoolkids. He’d stick close to you and he only made you feel even smaller. He would hardly ever let you get more than an arm’s length away from him. “Einfach so winzig,” he’d said, commenting on how ‘tiny’ you were. You’d even learned some German off of him. But he would secretly find out who hurt you and send his men to locate them. He’d tell his men to do nothing but capture, alive, those that had hurt you. As soon as he got there, König would let the fun begin so to speak. He’d rip those men limb from limb and delight in their screams. He’d take pictures of their ripped apart bodies to show 141.

That night Graves took things slow. It was that slow burn kind of sex that was almost like…dare you call it that…making love. He’d undressed so, so very delicately. It was almost like he knew what you needed. Something slow, something wholesome.

He’d climbed over you in bed, both of you completely undressed. He’d trailed hot, heavy kisses on your chest and breasts, making you moan softly. He kissed you gently, taking things so slooowly, like he wanted this night to last forever. Then he’d shifted his position, placing his face between your legs, ripping one orgasm after another from you.

And then he’d sunk himself into you, moaning your name. You were overstimulated but fuck it felt so good just to be loved. This was love, right? And after making you cum one more time, he gave into his own carnal needs, cumming inside of you.

You’d felt him paint your insides white. You were glad you had an IUD because shit otherwise who’d know what would happen. Bringing a child, an infant, into this situation would be a fucking mess. Not to mention how would this kid grow up? Being dragged all over the world by his mercenary father and captive mother.

You were brought back to the present when Graves slid out of you before lying next to you, placing his head on your chest.

And that was the last thing you remembered before you fell asleep and dreamt.

You found yourself back to the night Graves betrayed 141. More and more of it came back to you as you dreamt further. You watched as Graves insulted Alejandro, essentially accusing him of working with the cartel. “Graves holy shit, man,” you’d remarked, shocked.

And before you knew it, Alejandro lunged at Graves and was subdued by a Shadow before said Shadow placed him in zipties. Gunshots were fired and stupid you, you’d slid off your rifle in the Jeep and left it there, because why would you need it? So you only had your sidearm. Two shots fired, you hit a Shadow, but the caliber had not been enough to penetrate his vest. He saw you aim at his commander…

But even though you had a shot, you couldn’t take it. You guessed this is why the military generally advised against sleeping with each other. Should you need to make a serious decision, your mind would be clouded. And your slut self had been fucking a PMC leader who was now betraying all of you.

Then a Shadow stepped in front of Graves, blocking your view of their leader and raising a rifle. An then you had to go and trip over your own boots and then you tripped worse over the short concrete barrier meant to separate the base from a steep hill full of vegetation and woods.

You weren’t expecting the sudden change in flooring and you rolled your ankle, crying out as you tumbled down the side of the grassy, overgrown hill. You brought in your arms and legs to lessen the chance of breaking them on anything on the way down. At the same time you were trying your best to block your face and head from hitting anything. You screamed because it hurt and it was blow after blow. And you had no idea how long the drop was. It felt like miles.

A tree finally stopped you but you couldn’t get up. You gave in to the darkness to a second or two before gunshots brought you back. Your world was spinning and you thought you were going to throw up. So you crawled deeper into the woods, breathing heavily and trying to not lose what was in your stomach. Thankfully your arm and shin guards had stopped you from getting any serious cuts or scratches. Your hair, which had been in a neat French braid up until then was loose around your neck, tangled, and dirty, and muddy.

You waited and were finally able to stand up. Nothing was broken. You were okay. You could feel mud caked onto your face, though. So then you made it to the streets of Las Almas. You thought you’d heard Soap trying to reach Ghost and moved in that general direction. You turned a corner and then you’d been hit across the back of your head and felt yourself crashing to the ground. You never even had time to reach your sidearm.

You woke up with a start but not as harsh a startle as with your other nightmares. It seemed as if you woke up ready to swing, ready to attack, ready to kill someone. You didn’t use to be like that.

141 thought you and Graves were dead. So they weren’t going to be looking for you anymore.

Right?

You wondered what your funeral was going to be like.

“You know you sleep all curled up on your side?”

You didn’t use to. You used to sleep on your side plain and simple. You wondered why you’d changed sleeping positions to curl up. It was almost like you were curling up in your new environment to sleep as safely as you could by protecting as many vital organs as your could.

It occurred to you a day or two later that you hadn’t smiled much less laughed since Graves took you. You used to be such a bubbly person. But then again you weren’t exactly unhappy. You just realized that you were never going to be the same again even if you made it back into the US as a free woman. ‘Free’ yeah right. If 141 didn’t kill you, you’d just end up in a military prison the rest of your life, right?

You knew you were never going to be okay ever again. And with all that you realized were just numb. You were starting to make peace with the fact that you were never going to lead a normal life again. You’d either be killed, be captured by the US or the UK and put in prison, or follow Graves around the world for the rest of your life.

Little did you know you’d learn something that day that would very much make you feel something.

It happened by accident, really. A radio had been left around you. And being bored as fuck, you decided to listen in on a briefing. So there you sat, passively listening until you heard something that caught your attention.

Valdez

Broke.

With hearing Graves say those two words you were suddenly alert.

Then you heard Graves explain that information you provided when “she was drugged out of her mind and had been beat senseless” led to them escaping 141 that one night Graves had told you they were “under attack.” He’d known they were coming. About how 141 members had been shot at but that they were unsure if any of them had been hit. No bodies had been found, Graves added, so if anyone did get hit they were carried off.

You tuned out the rest of the briefing because you had just gotten verification that you had indeed broken and that had indeed betrayed your team (ex-team?).

You

Were

Traitor.

As always, throw any comments you'd like my way. It's getting intense!

#phillip graves #cod mw2 #cod mwii #phillip graves x reader #john soap mactavish #ghost cod #graves x reader #mw2 141 #konig mw2 #longwayfromhome

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tenthousandyearsx · 2 years

Text

WIP Snip

Fandom: Harry Potter Category: M/M Relationship: Draco Malfoy / Harry Potter Rating: Knowing me, it will likely be E. This snippet is G however (or T for cursing, I suppose). Author: tenthousandyears (tumblr | AO3) Thanks: Thanks to the wonderful @crazybutgood for the beta! Any remaining mistakes are my own. Additional Tags: Fall in love or die, Curses, Veritaserum, Pining

Summary:

Draco sits down heavily on the sofa. Potter is fucking doomed. Potter is going to die unless he falls in love with Draco. Which means that Potter is going to die.

Notes: I've been tagged by several people, but I thought I was going to finish my Fall-In-Love-Or-Die fic and just post it. Alas, no luck. Since I'm working on a separate WIP for an anon fest now, I thought I might as well post a snippet. Enjoy! x

The knock on his door at 10 pm on a Tuesday is unexpected, but it’s the sight that presents itself when Draco opens the door that makes him freeze.

“Malfoy,” Granger says, looking apologetic. “We need to talk.”

Weasley has none of the same courtesy, the oaf, which doesn’t surprise Draco in the slightest. It does, however, surprise him to be suddenly held at wand point.

“Let us in,” Weasley says.

“It’s a matter of life and death,” Granger says urgently. “We wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t.”

Draco rolls his eyes. “Isn’t it always, with the Golden Trio?”

Potter is not with them, he notices, which makes his stomach knot unpleasantly.

Draco hasn’t seen Granger and Weasley in years. He has kept up with Potter, obviously, the press makes it impossible not to; but he hasn’t talked to him since the trials, even though he sees him around sometimes. They nod at each other on the best of days – and that’s that.

“It’s about Harry,” Granger says, and Draco’s stomach properly twists now, which is utterly preposterous.

“Fine,” he drawls, even though he should probably ask, How is this my problem? And, Was that supposed to be a convincing argument? And even, What in Salazar’s name are you doing on my doorstep? The words don’t come, however, and he arches an eyebrow and opens the door to let them in.

Granger and Weasley follow him inside through a corridor and into Draco’s sitting room, and Draco has the time to catalogue the tiredness in their eyes, the sallowness of their skin, how much both of them fidget. They don’t look much different from their Hogwarts days, even though both of them are Aurors now.

It’s a sobering thought. Draco always assumed the Golden Trio must have developed nerves of steel after the war, but perhaps that’s just not how Gryffindors operate. If he thinks of Potter – stubborn, heroic Potter just flinging himself into life and death situations, all hot-headedness and no thought – Draco has to wonder whether the myth of Gryffindors’ skillfully wielded courage is just that – a myth, a PR operation for people who move through the world with their hearts, not with their heads. His chest feels funny again and he wonders where Potter is.

“Can we have a drink?” Granger asks, once they are seated. “Something strong. It would help.”

Draco’s eyebrows shoot up. “Didn’t really peg you for a Whiskey type, Granger.”

He complies, however, mostly because he feels like he needs one too. What has Potter got himself into, for Weasley and Granger to be looking for him?

He summons three glasses and a bottle of Talisker, and fills all three. Every noise is amplified in the silence, the clinking of glass, the pouring of Whiskey, Weasley’s overt fidgeting. Draco eyes them, tension zinging through his own body, and levitates two glasses to them.

“Do you know what this is?” Weasley asks, taking out a few sheets of paper from the pocket of his robes and handing them to Draco. His wand is still out. Draco eyes it wearily but takes the papers nonetheless.

At first, Draco is unsure of what he’s looking at. The writing is minute, the curls precise. Complex calculations are scattered among geometric shapes and rune patterns, the result so intricate it’s practically bewildering. It’s nothing Draco has ever seen used in this specific way before.

He sits down and reaches blindly for his own glass while staring at the pages.

“These are to calculate location,” he muses aloud, scanning the pages and gesturing vaguely with his glass. The other end of a spell? Or the one who cast it? No, that doesn’t seem right.

He takes a sip. There are more than two endings; there are… at least three. A triangulated spell. He turns the page frowning and there it is, a triangle with the relevant runes and coordinates jotted down. And the last one ends right at his – right at his –

“I’ve put Veritaserum in your drink,” Granger says out of nowhere and Draco is startled enough that he drops his glass. It smashes on the floor, the liquid splattering on the polished wood and seeping into the carpet.

Draco is on his feet before he knows it, his heart hammering wildly, his wand pointed at Granger.

“What the fuck, Granger?”

“Don’t you even think about it, mate,” Weasley says, his own wand trained on Draco.

Draco’s body shakes. He doesn’t know what they can possibly want, doesn’t think he’s been so ready to leap and hex since the war.

“You come to my house,” he seethes. “You hold me at wand point, you drug me –”

Granger swallows but doesn’t move. “I only need to ask you a few questions, Malfoy. Then we’ll be out of your way.”

“I’ve only had a sip,” Draco spits. “You won’t be able to get anything out of me.”

“True. But I put the equivalent of three vials in that glass.”

Fuck.

Draco’s throat tightens with rage and fear and he has to fight the need to lash out, to put both of them in a Body Bind and step on their faces.

He considers Apparating away until the effects of the Veritaserum wear off, but Granger’s It’s about Harry echoes in his mind and he can’t bring himself to move.

“What the fuck do you want?” he hisses instead. His fingers itch to hex them, level the field a bit, but he can recognise a checkmate when he sees one. There’s no way he can get both of them without ending up in a Body Bind himself.

“Just ask him, so he can say no and we can be on our way,” Weasley mutters. Then, to Draco, “We’re not enjoying this either, Malfoy, whatever you think.”

Draco ignores the urge to spit in his face.

Granger braces herself and looks up at him.

“Malfoy,” she says. “Draco.” Draco winces. “Are you in love with Harry?”

Draco freezes. That’s not what he expected. But he’s even more shocked when his mouth opens and he says, “Yes.”

Weasley looks like he’s been struck by a Stunning Spell, and Draco cannot blame him, because that’s how he feels too. “What –”

“Were you in love with him at Hogwarts?” Granger presses on, and Draco’s mouth opens, and to his horror, he finds himself saying, “Yes.”

He turns around, startled, his hands flying to his hair. He wants to pull it out.

“What’s this?” he asks. “Did you want to humiliate me? Congratulations, you’ve succeeded. Now, if you can just fuck off –”

The unthinkable happens, then – Granger crosses the room in three strides and hugs him.

“Oh god, it’s you.”

“What –” Draco starts again, bewildered, and when she pulls back, he's astonished to see her wiping away her tears.

“That just makes it worse, ‘Mione,” Weasley says, looking completely baffled. “You’re weird as hell, Malfoy, you know that?” He almost lowers his wand then, but he changes his mind half-way and points it back at Draco, his gaze hard. “Would you intentionally hurt Harry, if you had the opportunity?” he asks, and Draco whispers, “No.”

Draco is too stunned to keep a hold on his rage or to keep track of what’s happening. He’s too unsettled by what he’s being forced to confront after all this time – without having seen Potter in weeks, without having talked to him in years.

Granger looks at him as if she can read his mind. “Have you seen Harry, recently?”

“I –” Draco swallows, the Veritaserum taking over again. “There’s this Muggle breakfast place, not far from here. I see him there, sometimes, in the morning. But… not in weeks. We haven’t talked since the trials.”

Granger nods. “And you are still in love with him.”

“I don’t –” Draco croaks. “Yes.”

The room spins. Draco knows what he said is true. He knows he has never uttered anything truer in his life. But he didn’t know. He hadn’t wanted to know.

Weasley lowers his wand, passes a hand over his face, and collapses on his sofa.

Draco might be too shaken to collect his thoughts, but he still raises his wand, points it at Weasley and growls, “Explain.”

Weasley doesn’t even flinch, he just grabs his drink and downs it in a single gulp. Granger picks up the papers again, skimming them ruefully.

“Harry has – has had an encounter with a hag,” she says.

“He’s been cursed,” Weasley says. “On the job. It’s –”

Draco swallows. Hag magic is no laughing matter. If these two are here, in his living room, they must be at their wits’ end.

“Go on,” he says, because this is still about Potter and Draco is in love with him, Salazar’s fucking –

Draco has to remind himself to breathe. He would have appreciated some time to freak out alone, but that's apparently not an option. His heart is thrumming and he can feel it everywhere.

“The curse was in hags’ tongue,” Granger says. “It's a good thing Harry thought of preserving the memory, because otherwise… Well, that’s why it took us so long. I translated it and –” she takes a deep breath "– Harry is going to die, Malfoy, at the next equinox. Unless he falls in love with –” she swallows “– with someone who has been pining for him for 180 moons.”

“That’s fifteen years, Malfoy,” Weasley says, looking truly distressed now.

Draco opens his mouth and closes it, feeling completely wrong-footed.

“What made you think that meant me?” he almost wails, because that couldn’t have been obvious. It hadn’t been obvious to him.

“We went through every other option,” Granger says. “Every other person we could think of. Then, I remembered that I’d read somewhere about combining Ancient Runes and Arithmancy to calculate the location of magical threads – assuming that I could unravel them first, obviously. Well, it took me ages, but I could. And after that, I could pinpoint the three points of the curse. One was the hag, untraceable. One was Harry. The third – the third brought us here.”

Draco sits down heavily on the sofa, his eyes on the shattered glass, the liquid a useless pool on the floor. That’s how he feels too. Shattered. Hollowed out.

Potter is fucking doomed. Potter is going to die unless he falls in love with Draco. Which means that Potter is going to die.

“What are you asking?” he croaks, because this is still about Potter, and Draco has been in love with him for fifteen years. Salazar’s sagging bollocks. “What do you expect me to do?”

They must want him to do something. Do they expect him to date Potter? The thought is fucking ludicrous, and it makes Draco want hex everything in sight.

Trying to date Potter means he will have to face Potter’s rejection first and Potter’s death later. He doesn’t think he can take it.

“We’re trying to keep Harry alive,” Granger says, like Draco is being deliberately obtuse. “And for that to happen, he needs to fall in love with you, Malfoy.”

Draco lets out a hysterical laugh and leans forward to stare at her. “He’s fucking doomed then, isn’t he, Granger?”

“Don’t you fucking dare –”

Draco looks up at Weasley balefully, but Granger has put a hand on Weasley’s arm, eyes intent on Draco.

“What do you have to lose?” she says. “You’re already in love with him. If it goes well, you’ll get what you want. If it doesn’t –” She swallows. “Well, Harry will be dead anyway.”

Draco can't breathe.

“I’m looking at other scenarios too, obviously,” Granger continues. “I’m trying to unravel the curse, but it’s been two months and I have nothing, Malfoy. Nothing.”

“Well, how do you suggest I go about it?” Draco snaps. “You can’t fucking expect me to ask him on a date.”

“I don’t know,” Granger says, chewing on the inside of her cheek, looking as despairing as he feels. “You cannot ask him on a date, that’s out of the question. He’ll know it has come from us and he must not find out. You can’t tell him we approached you, Malfoy, or he won’t talk to us about the curse anymore and we need him to keep us updated, so I can adjust my research accordingly. We – We might have set him up on a bit too many dates,” she sighs. “We had a fight about it. He asked us to stop meddling, but see, he’s not doing anything to survive this, he’s just…”

“Wallowing?”

“Not even that, he’s… sure that it will all solve itself or – or not.” She swallows. “And he’s not particularly worried about the… not scenario.” She smooths her papers, frustrated. “He’s just not – He’s not good at this, Malfoy, not just not getting himself into life or death situations, obviously, but also… you know. He hates dating. He’d probably been on three dates in his whole life before this curse and he hated every single one of them. Don’t tell him I told you this. We sent him on about thirty-seven in the last two months –”

“Thirty-seven?!”

“– and he has hated every single one of them, too. It’s just – it’s just not his thing.”

“Thirty-seven dates, Granger. Bloody hell, were you just picking them off the street?”

“We were not picking them off the street,” Granger scowls. “We went through people in our year, and then… some of the other years. That’s the thing. We needed someone who has known Harry for at least fifteen years.”

Draco rubs his eyes, feeling suddenly exhausted. “Wasn't he seeing your sister?” he asks in Weasley’s direction.

Weasley scoffs. “My sister has been dating Hannah for the past five years.”

“Not in love with him, then?”

“Doesn’t look like it, no.”

The feeling of relief that surges in Draco pisses him off even more.

“Fine,” he snaps. “So what do you suggest? Even if I’m willing to try, which I’m not sure is a humiliation I want to subject myself to, Potter won’t – He’s still going to die.”

Granger chews her lip. “Can you think of an excuse to live with him?”

“Live with him?”

“He has only three months until the equinox, Malfoy. It was five, but we wasted two. Do you think you’re going to woo him with flowers and some letters?”

Draco can’t woo Potter. He has to tell her that, at least.

“He hates me,” he says instead. The words feel bitter in his mouth. “You know he hates me. This won’t work.”

Granger eyes him speculatively. “He’s always been obsessed with you,” she says. “If he ever hated you, I’m sure he hasn’t in a long time. Will you give it a try?”

And Draco has to laugh, because they have asked him if he is in love, if he has been all along, if he would ever hurt Potter – and now they think he won’t try?

“You knew I’d help since I answered your first bloody question,” he says bitterly, “Of course I’ll give it a try. But let’s be clear, Granger. I won’t court him.”

Granger opens her mouth to protest, but Draco raises a hand to stop her.

“I’ll help you research the curse. I’ll move in and keep an eye on him, if he’ll bloody have me. I’ll do what I can. But I won’t –” He swallows. “I won’t court him. I won’t do anything romantic. I won’t –” forsake my dignity, he thinks, but doesn’t say it. “I can’t,” the Veritaserum pulls out of him, and Draco chokes on it, hates saying it and hates that it’s true. “That’s my only offer. I don’t care what you say. That’s as far as I can go. Take it or leave it.”

“We’ll take it,” Granger says earnestly.

“But –” Weasley says, startled. Granger shakes her head at him and Draco doesn’t have to watch to know she's mouthing Veritaserum. He looks away, pretending not to have noticed. His eyes sting.

He Vanishes the mess on the floor, summons another glass, and reaches for the bottle of Talisker, pouring himself some more Whiskey, trying to drown his terror about the fact that Potter is going to die, the shock of being faced with his own feelings, and the horror of having been outmanoeuvred by two Gryffindors – one of them not even particularly bright.

“Good,” he says. “Now get the fuck out of my house.”

#drarry #drarry fic #drarry fanfic #drarry wip snip #draco x harry #harry x draco #fanfiction #my wombo art #hp #my wip snips #my fics #I would kill for this Draco tbh x_x

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lorei-writes · 11 months

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To remember is a heavy burden to bear II

Rio Gen Fic Angst

Includes spoilers for Rio's route.

You know, it's one of those things I wrote and wanted to post immediately, but then didn't and was conflicted all over again. Oh well. Some short musings related to his amnesia.

Content Warnings: blood mention

The water inside of the tub is hot, tall pillars of steam raising steadily along its perimeter. However, the liquid heat fails to penetrate the very skin it threatens to blister. Rio leans back, allows it to ravish his body further, a spectre of an unspoken hope reverberating through his mind. Burn it out of me, the thought dares take on the shape of words. Alas, so does the memory become tangible in its form, and so it comes…

Rio is Valerio now. Much younger… Much less fortunate, for his past self does not have any hands to hold onto for support. Worse yet, he is the one being leaned on, at least now. Then. Not that he would have refused. He couldn’t have. He can’t.

Rio pours water over his head. It wets his hair and darkens it to honey brown, trickles down the bridge of his nose, each drop contributing to the cascade falling off his jaw. His lips part to draw in a shaky breath. It’s water. It’s water. It’s water, he repeats to himself.

Valerio’s hands are cold despite being covered with slick crimson warmth. Dull ache gives his fingers a squeeze as he presses on the wound in his mother’s side. The bleeding won’t stop. It doesn’t stop. It didn’t stop.

It is in the past – he, that Valerio, and her, half-dead yet still alive. It is in the past, so Rio of the present lathers his hair with the shampoo bar and closes his eyes. Now is not then. Then is not now.

He has never realised how sweet is the scent of iron, not ever before. Valerio lifts his eyes. He is submerged in steaming helplessness as his mother pushes him back, pale smile engraved over her face with equally pale features. However, her eyes refuse to comply – to see himself reflected in them so clearly is a crime of its own. Why her. Why is this allowed. Where is his father’s might when the woman he so allegedly loves is hurt yet another time. Why is he the only one to care. Why does she stay. Why… Why… Why…

The shampoo pricks Rio’s eyes. The only steaming thing at the moment is his bath.

“It’s fine,” his mother says. Said.

It wasn’t fine.

It has never been made fine.

Rio pours water over his head. He pours, and he pours, with such fervency that it could be confused for a pelting rain. For an ocean that has receded in its bounds and is now earnings back the land it has abandoned, with a frightening interest rate… All to burn. To burn the unwanted memories away, to free himself from the ashes left by this scorching pain. To live a fantasy for a second more, to pretend the life he has been given started mere three years ago. That he has always been Rio, and never Valerio… Just for a single breath.

To remember is a heavy burden to bear, in the end.

Tag List: @lancelotscloak @violettduchess @pathogenic @fang-and-feather @tele86

#rio ortiz #ikepri rio #ikemen prince rio #ikepri #ikemen prince #ikemen series

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ecoamerica · 1 month

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youtube

Watch the 2024 American Climate Leadership Awards for High School Students now: https://youtu.be/5C-bb9PoRLc

The recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by student climate leaders! Join Aishah-Nyeta Brown & Jerome Foster II and be inspired by student climate leaders as we recognize the High School Student finalists. Watch now to find out which student received the $25,000 grand prize and top recognition!

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distortedclouds · 1 year

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Hey!!

Hey, @moonspirit !

Wanna guess?

Wordcount: 1290~

Tags: Armin's PoV, Smut, Fingering, Post-canon, VOICE KINK, PRAISE KINK

Crime Motive: This post

Special Thanks: The Ultimate Guide to Writing Smut Fic on AO3 and the Smut Thesaurus on Tumblr

Bon appétit I threw this up in a couple of hours or something. Also it's like super vulgar so...

Armin’s become a bit of an asshole, he’s aware.

Not to the public: ‘they adore you!’ he’s been told, and that’s great! It’s all he could’ve hoped for and more when deciding to carry the weight of the new world on his shoulders, but… he did become a bit of an asshole. To Annie.

It’s been far too many rescheduled promises, early mornings, and late nights that left their bed deprived of the shared weight of their bodies. Today, Armin hoped would be an exception to the rule. Alas, it wasn’t. The clock’s longer hand had quietly ticked just past the swirling eight figure engraved on its face when he first caught Annie’s gaze in the mirror, wandering with great disinterest around the far-too-fancy bathroom. A couple more minutes had gone before he’d caught her drawn-out sigh of boredom, except it never is just that.

People often say that if you cared enough about something, you’d make time for it. Well… they might’ve been right.

“I’m sorry we don’t have time, Annie,” he says, keeping his voice low because he’s truly remorseful.

“Quit apologizing already!” Annie bites back a moan with her teeth dug into her lower lip. He doesn’t see it, from where she turns her back to him, but he knows that tone of voice. He’d pulled it out of her dozens upon dozens of times by now.

“But I really am~” he purrs against her shoulder. Armin breathes in the smell of the long day clinging to her clothes. How it now merges wonderfully with her own unique scent from where her thighs flex and rub against one another beneath the constricting material of her pencil skirt.

“You know how I’d love nothing more than to unzip your skirt,” he trails a palm down, slowly from her waist to her hip, his fingernail repeatedly catching on the ridges of the zipper.

She gasps and jerks in his arms where he holds her to him with a forearm around her middle, and fuck because he’ll never be over how easy it is to get her to this point. If he didn’t know better, he’d think she was faking this whole thing. Luckily, Armin does; the long whines adorning her voice and the quiet moans held deep in her chest carry out an image of herself that's dangerously vulnerable and open and needy that he can’t help but always push her for just a tiny bit more.

“Just a tiny bit,” he breathes right next to her ear, but her harsh bite into her lower lip is successful. What a shame. “I wouldn’t need to get it all the way off. Just low enough so I can bend you over that sink over there,” he taunts and the incoherent sputter of syllables to leave her mouth is probably his name, “right against the mirror.”

“F-Fuck!” her voice beautifully shatters in the low echo in the small room, her body squirming where he continues to grip her tightly to him as her fingers attempt—and fail—to grasp at the glossy tiles lining the wall.

“But I can’t, unfortunately.” Armin glances at the clock, where the pendulum dances back and forth with audacious tick-tocks that personally challenge him. “So, how about you take care of it for me, sweetheart?”

The stubborn ‘fuck you!’ that Armin expects doesn’t come. Instead, one of her hands leaves the wall the little vanity they sit on is pressed against and replaces his hand on the zipper. For Annie to comply this easily… he must’ve been pushing her for quite a while now, huh?

He really has become an asshole.

Armin watches over her shoulder as her shaky fingers drive the pull down the metallic teeth, allowing the skirt to sag around her hips. Just enough room for her to slip her hand down the waistband and for her legs to spread a couple of inches wider. “I’m really sorry, Annie,” he groans and the only reason she doesn’t elbow him right in the liver is because she doesn’t hesitate before pressing her fingers against her core, making herself cry and plead for everything he can’t offer her at this very moment.

“As much as I like having you like this,” his voice strains in his throat in accordance with the suffocating fabric around his crotch. “You know I’d much rather us be in our bed.”

She nods, her hair bobbing into a mess around her head and falling over her flushed face. With the movement of her hand bulging at the front of her skirt, heavy pants begin to carry more of her voice, little whimpers and mewls that he knows are nothing but seedlings for much, much more.

“Maybe with your legs over my shoulders, so I can fuck you as deep as you like it,” he says, getting enough satisfaction when Annie, with all her soft moans and sweet scent and silky hair, melts back against him and her knees buckle even with her seated.

There’s a short pause in her rapid breathing, but it doesn’t last long, concluded in a long groan that dissolves into a low and desperate—and absolutely shameless—whine that Armin believes he should be punished for not swallowing whole—fuck he’d reeeaally pushed her far.

When her thighs struggle against the restraint of the skirt, Armin deduces that she must’ve already slipped a couple of her fingers into her cunt, and from what he can see from her wrist, she’s straining to push them further in.

“Armin!” she begs, breathless and hot, and ah, he must’ve been quiet for too long.

Choosing to loosen the arm around her torso, now that he no longer needs to actually hold her to him, he drags his palm to her lower stomach, just above the junction of her hips, and presses. “It’s because you like having me right here, don’t you? You like feeling full?”

This time, her only response is a low sob as her hips begin to buck and push forward and against her fingers. She’s close. So close. Armin urges her into leaning her head back on his shoulder, he kisses her cheek and the corner of her jaw before moving down her neck.

“You’re doing great, Annie,” he rasps, voice raw where it scratches deep in his throat. “Just a bit more. Come on.” He continues with a trail of all the absolute nonsense words and phrases he’d come to accumulate over the years. Everything that she loves to hear: from little encouragements that appear vulgar the more Armin considers them, to pet names and her name, which make the tips of her fingers tremble and her gaze completely unfocused. All things that had never failed him in getting Annie to slur her words and abandon all pride for the sake of a release between his arms.

“Armin!” she hisses, urgently.

“Yeah, I know,” he reassures her, freeing one of his hands from around her and shooting to press it hard against her mouth right as she pushes herself over the edge. Armin takes a moment to mourn all the cries and shattered moans that meet their demise as quiet vibrations against his palm. It’s good motivation, really. If he wants to hear them in full, then he better stop fucking around and make time!

Armin waits for her hand stops working under her skirt before he lowers his own from her mouth, leaving her to catch up on her breathing. Her body is still a puddle against his, with him supporting the majority of her weight against his chest. It’s not until he hears one particularly satisfied sigh that he kisses her cheek with a comically loud smack of the lips, “That’s my girl!”

“Oh, fuck you!”

#attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #aruani #aruannie #not sfw #my fic #oh nothing just an asshole assholing :)

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nicohischier · 7 months

Text

@david-reinbacher tagged me thank youuuuu just the other day i was thinking about how i wanted an excuse to talk about myself LMAO

Tell me about:

1. The thing that got you hooked on hockey

i've spoke about how i first got interested in hockey so i won't rehash that, but what hooked me was honestly the behind the scenes content. behind the b was my best friend when i was a baby fan, i absolutely loved the content. even now, that sort of behind the scenes stuff is still my favourite content posted by teams

2. Your first ever fandom friend

my first hockey friend was shoshana (@/kempny) but they aren't on hockeyblr anymore and we haven't spoken in years unforch

3. The jersey you would most like to own

this is boring but my dream jersey is just a regular hischier home jersey

4. YOUR player (you only get ONE so choose wisely)

i am predictable. obviously it's nico. i've always felt like being a fan of the devils, for me, is like returning to the comfort of your home. nico's like that for me too. i think, no matter what team he plays on in the future, seeing him on or off the ice will give me the same comfort that coming home does. soz for getting sappy, he's just my guy

5. A pairing that deserves more fic

like. i'm a mattdrai girlie and i will never say no to more fics. but i am also tragically stuck in 2017 and would therefore go absolutely insane for more niconolan fics.

6. Your favourite on-ice moment

this is going to sound so stupid because i literally wasn't even a hockey fan yet, but adam henriques goal against the r*ngers in the 2012 ecf that sent the devs to the finals... i knooooow its such a dumb choice cause i wasnt a fan but. god. i cant explain how much that moment means to me even looking back retroactively. i get goosebumps every single time.

THEN

link someone else's art/fic/etc that you love & think everyone should check out

I HAVE A LIST. here's three from three different mediums. @jonasiegenthaler's insanely beautiful nico art inspired by a quote from his tribune article. @ghostgeno's jack eichel 'what i got' hockey poetry post. and @stevenstamkos's fic 'and i saw stars' which is half taylor hall/jordan eberle and half taylor hall/adam henrique and entirely taylor hall character study. i love all of these so much, none of you will ever know how much i respect you and the things you create.

AND

link something you made & are proud of & want people to see

so unforch i'm not part of the creative side of hockeyblr but like. go read the 2018 drama post i created at the end of 2018. esp if you weren't a fan at the time. it's my most popular post and i love how it complies so much history from that year that most of us would probably just forget about.

alas i will not be tagging anyone because. i think? everyone i would usually tag has already been tagged. also i'm shy :( idk who is okay with being tagged :(

#tagged #thank you for the tag !!!!!!!#i love tag games so much tbh #and i love reading what other ppl say its so important to me that im nosy at all times gbskdhbs

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dystopicjumpsuit · 10 months

Note

I'm not sure how many of these you've already answered so I hope you don't mind me sending you a hand full! B F H K and Y for the fanfic game, also, I'm sending you all the happy weekend vibes your way cos you deserve it!

No problem at all! I love this game.

B: Any of your stories inspired by personal experience?

I work in academia, so I definitely was inspired by that when I was writing "Martyrs and Kings." Things like the endless deluge of administrative tasks, and also the gala scene with the lecherous donor--those were pulled straight from life (except my organization named a museum after him, not just a wing 🤢). Beyond that, I think most/all of my fics have some element of displacement or migration/diaspora. My family fled my home country when I was a teenager to escape cartel violence, so those themes of alienation and struggle to find a place that feels like home tend to work their way into most things that I write. Finally, I am bisexual, and I seem to include a lot of queer characters in my stories.

F: Share a snippet from one of your favourite dialogue scenes you've written and explain why you're proud of it.

I'm pretty happy with this scene in "Martyrs and Kings." I think it shows so much of Kix's charm, and I enjoyed throwing Maree off her game. I also liked the inversion of roles for Kix, the medic who now is getting medical "care" from someone who is very much Not That Kind of Doctor:

“Where else are you hurt?” she demanded.

“Nowhere,” he said, avoiding her gaze.

He took a hitching breath, and she narrowed her eyes suspiciously.

“Take off your shirt,” she ordered.

He shot her a startled glance.

“What?” he asked.

“Off. Take it off. I know you’re hiding more injuries.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, rising to comply.

He shed his jacket and then slipped his shirt over his head with a tiny grunt of pain.

She hissed in a breath and unleashed a torrent of curses that made Kix’s mouth drop open in awe. The entire left side of his ribcage was covered in dark bruises.

“Will you teach me how to swear like that, doc?” he asked as some of the tension in his face began to ease. “I didn’t know you had it in you.”

H: How would you describe your style?

Oh, that's tough! 😂

I think I'd describe it as introspective. I like to explore the characters' inner lives, and sometimes I do it to the detriment of the action. My next longfic will be more action-oriented, so I'm hoping to strike a balance there.

K: What's the angstiest idea you've ever come up with?

It's a spoiler for the next fic, alas! I will say that it gave me writer's block for two weeks because it hurt my feelings every time I opened the doc. 😭

Y: A character you want to protect.

Oh my god, every clone. All of them. Just let me gather them up like ducklings and take them somewhere safe and warm and happy. Most specifically, Echo and Gregor. I know I'm hyperfixating on them right now because they're the heroes of my WIP, but damn, they've been through enough. Let me protect them.

#dystopicjumpsuit answers #dystopicjumpsuit writes #thanks for the ask!

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libertys-lovers · 1 year

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The hell?!? I don’t remember the Valentine’s Day episode being like this!?

…

AKA: Here’s a look into how Dramatics officially started!

—

I was originally gonna explain this as a fic… but I did not have enough time for that BAJSNDJD- So instead I’m just gonna gush about it!

Basically, Freedom didn’t want the Matsuno brothers to have a complete meltdown from not getting chocolates on Valentine’s Day, so she decided that she’d be the one to get them something. But alas, Freedom had her own personal struggles arise from this. She had been crushing on Karamatsu for a looooooonnnnnngg time, and while she knew this would be a PERFECT opportunity to confess her love to him, she also didn’t want his brothers to get jealous about him getting a confession (and, let’s be real, she didn’t want an audience in case it fell flat). She fretted over whether or not she should confess, but eventually she gritted her teeth and came up with a master plan.

She went to deliver the chocolates to the brothers, but she left Karamatsu’s gifts at home. She pretended that she forgot Karamatsu’s, and she asked him to visit her beach-house later in the day so she could give it to him. He complied, & was eventually presented with a fancy-ass box of chocolates & roses. And so, Freedom confessed, telling him about just how long she’s adored him and rambling about all her favorite attributes of him.

All Kara could do was stand and listen; every sense of his was going numb by the sheer shock of it all. Freedom recognized this, and added that it was completely okay if he didn’t reciprocate. Kara threw that sentiment out the window immediately, as he cut her off and began expressing just how honored he was.

But Freedom had one concern; what if Karamatsu was only agreeing as a way to graduate from being single, rather than agreeing because he liked her genuinely? This was a point she hesitantly asked about, & it was another point he shot down instantly. Sure, he was ECSTATIC about not being a lonely lil man anymore, but he was so grateful that it was her that pulled him out of it.

And with that, the two were officially dating… and the brothers instantly had a new target among them to bully, because they followed him there and saw the entire thing BSKEKFKF

#Omfg this is the MOST effort I’ve put into Kara looking canon #like smh I was staring at his face for an hour and for ONCE it wasn’t just for yearning #self ship #self shipper #self shipping #self ship art #self ship rambling #🕶💥dramatics💥🕶

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sommerregenjuniluft · 8 months

Note

lune hello!! i have three words for you...daddy, love, & warm

omg hi cass u were so quick haha!<3

i literally have to disappoint you on the first one i am so sorry :,) have not written anything daddy it seems since the microfics

love

The first time Lily came onto one of Pandora’s crime scenes she’s pretty sure she fell in love with her.

She hadn’t realized immediately, the glint in Lily’s eyes and not in person, of course, but Xeno has their ways of hacking into security cameras and getting their hands onto whatever footage or information they want—alas Pandora having sent rather explicit death threats, graphic in both the death threat as well as the things she’s going to do to Lily right next to their corpse, to Lily’s bumble matches only a few weeks prior.

this is the cannibal x detective au and you would not believe how many times there’s a version of the word love in my fucking cannibalism fic, this proves the point so well, i’m grinning madly (also kind of shoked that i never used the word love in Ant Pile yet?? wtf that’s insane kind of) EDIT: i went to check cause i couldnt believe it and it’s genuine, i used it once at the beginning but not since

warm

“Yeah, my- my car broke down.”

The stranger grunts roughly and nods for Remus to take the light.

Remus hurries to comply and the man’s shoulder grazes his’ as he steps around Remus to open the engine hood. He has a few inches on Remus which is unusual for his lanky 6'3 built and smells faintly of campfire smoke and cutting wood.

The man tinkers around in the metal intestines for a while and Remus lets his eyes drift to the huskies bustling animatedly, nuzzling snouts and nipping at each other’s necks. It’s almost enough to make him forget momentarily about his wildly trembling body and quick heartbeat.

That’s also why he’s distracted when there’s suddenly a warm body at his side again, murmuring, “Needs a jumpstart,” and taking the lantern back.

Remus frowns, uneasy feeling pooling right back into his stomach and threatening to tighten his throat before there’s a nudge on his elbow, “You’ll stay with me.”

Remus is sure his jaw drops a bit.

“Unless you want to freeze to death?” the stranger says a bit patronizingly, eyebrows raised.

this is the hairy wolfstar agenda fic, they are so big and tall and hairy and i have not touched them for a month lmao someone hit me with a bat

#i could soooo wax poetry about the ant pile boys right now #because yeah apparently the word love doesn’t reappear one more timr in tje fic but thr Love in there is Sooooo fucking palpable like God #and that’s literally the beauty of it isnt it?#so fucking cute #i think i might keep this up as i finish the fic #lune writes

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despair-ninja-everything-agency · 2 years

Text

A Shaft of Light is All I Need

Been sleeping on this fic for a month lemao but I finally managed to finish it. A study on Godzilla’s Atomic Breath, specifically Shin Godzilla’s, should it become a Blue Mage spell and its possible drawbacks if it follows Shin’s condition. Hope it’s to your liking owo7

Fandom: Final Fantasy XIV, Godzilla, Shin Godzilla

Characters: Cole Ushiromiya (FFXIV!Cole a.k.a. My WoL), Martyn, P’yandih, alluded Shin Godzilla, King Ghidorah

Word Count: 3400+

“C’mon, Cole! Show us the new spell!” P’yandih practically jumps in excitement toward the tanned Hyur as he approaches her and Martyn, the Blue Mage mentor (well, calling him ‘mentor’ would be far too generous for him).

“I don’t know, Yandih… I don’t feel safe doing this…” Immediately, Cole refuses to even entertain her. Just the thought of what he’d be doing sends shivers down his spine.

His refusal prompted Martyn to speak up. “Like you’re one to talk! None of what we’ve done was safe so don’t even think about it! Now come on, show us this new spell you’ve said you acquired!” His tone was practically commanding, being eager to see what his prized pupil (and rival) had obtained.

Cole could only sigh. It was a mistake to tell them that he had faced a fearsome and gigantic monster - rivaled only by Bahamut - as a Blue Mage just offshore of Othard. While it did boost the Blue Mage guild’s credibility, the fact is facing the creature was emotionally draining as it was physically. An echo flashback showed him of its immense pain and suffering just from merely existing, and he witnessed its manifestation during their fight. The creature thrashed and roared in agony, mindlessly destroying whatever within its range with its own brute force and its massive, deafening laser breath. He took no pride in killing the beast, despite the necessity. Moreso after he realized he just absorbed its aether upon its dying breath. He felt guilty for not only taking its life, but also taking what was its.

Still, there’s no way he could wiggle out of his current predicament. Especially if P’yandih already admires him and Martyn puts his mind on witnessing it. Cole sighs once again before relenting. “Fine… But I’m not responsible for any property damage,” he says before turning to Martyn dead in the eyes. “I take it you’d cover for any financial necessity?”

It’s enough to bring Martyn to his senses. Already, he looks as if he’s about to weasel himself out of it, yet the darker Hyur’s stern gaze scares his wits enough to make him comply. “A-Alright, alright! But make sure it’s worth the gils! I’m not gonna splurge our guild’s income just for mere property damage!”

Typical cheapskate. Yet it’s enough for him. “Now, if you kindly step back for your own safety,” Cole orders his fellow Blue Mage with a chin wag. Smiling a little as he sees the two did as told, he takes out his cane and concentrates on his new spell. A laser breath, coming out from the mouth. Like the rampaging beast’s, funneling out the deadly beam to ease its pain. As his cast reaches the tail of its incantation, he unleashes a powerful laser beam…

…Or what it could be, had he successfully cast it. Alas, his jaws only hang open with nothing expelled from within. Odd… He’s sure he did everything correctly. So why didn’t it fire off? A part of him is grateful for it, though.

“Is… That all it?” the Blue Mage mentor asks in disappointment, arms crossing as if trying to assert authority (and failing at that). He had expected a grand show given the other Hyur’s reluctance. Now he feels duped.

“Apparently… and unfortunately…” Cole concludes his little ‘show’, shrugging as if dismissing.

“M-Maybe the incantation was wrong?” P’yandih suggests, still trying to be positive despite being as disappointed as Martyn is.

Cole only shakes his head in response. “I did everything right. Mayhap it’s just… not meant to be,” he says offhandedly, as if it’s the truth.

“Whatever it is, you disappointed us, Cole. And here I thought you’d give us your biggest show yet,” Martyn interjects dismissively with a handwave. “You better make sure your spell is working before telling us what happened.”

Cole throws him an incredulous look, not accepting the mentor’s words. “Wha- I only did this because YOU asked me to!” he complains, remembering that he immediately pressured if the not-so-novice Blue Mage got any new spell from fighting the enormous creature. Naturally, Martyn is visibly about to bite back with the same disbelieving look before a Brass Blade approaches them.

“Sirs! The Blade requests your aid. We got a report that a three headed dragon was seen rampaging near Camp Drybone. We’ve already sent our finest soldiers to deal with it but we fear it might not be enough. Your expertise in dealing with varieties of monsters are needed.”

Martyn is quick to agree, taking the opportunity to further bolster the guilds reputation. After confirming their involvement, he turns to Cole with a (feigned) stern look. “I’ll let it slide this time. But I wont tolerate it in the future. Do you understand?” Cole promptly nods, which makes the light skinned Hyur smile in victory. “Good. Now, we have a beast to take care of. Who’s with me?”

P’yandih lets out a cheer while Cole only gives him a confirming nod, if only to satisfy the mentor.

And so, they set out to Eastern Thanalan. As they prepare to mount their chocobos (Cole with his trusty Kanon while the other two were loaned from Ul’dah’s chocobokeep), Cole feels a discomfort on his stomach. He dismisses it as not having enough food for the time, making a mental note to buy something after dealing with the beast.

-o0o-

The pain just gets worse as they hastily make their way to Camp Drybone. It started as a warm sensation in his belly but it gradually grew hotter and hotter, as if boiling his insides. At multiple points throughout their journey, he involuntarily retches from both the internal heat and the motion of riding his chocobo. It’s enough to make those around him concerned, Kanon being the first to notice and stopping on his track to let his master compose himself.

“Are you alright? Need a break?” Martyn asks, perturbed by one of his pupil’s violent gags. “Stay and get some rest, boy. We can handle it without you.”

Cole immediately shakes his head, both to deny the offer and to rid himself of the wretched feeling on his throat. “‘M fine… Should be good to go…”

“You sure? You look pale as Coerthan snow!” P’yandih calls out in worry. True to her words, the tanned Hyur’s face looks paler than usual. Cold sweats beading from his temple as he continues to hold the bubbling heat from within. Yet he remains stubborn, kicking Kanon’s leg to signal him to keep going despite the chocobo’s protest.

“I’ll be fine!” he yells out in frustration. The last thing he wanted during a dire mission is them tarrying just from his poor condition.

Knowing the other’s stubbornness, Martyn only nods in defeat before he leads the team to move again, frequently looking back to check on Cole’s worsening state. Along the way, P’yandih wastes no time to at least ease his pain with whatever healing spells she knows.

-o0o-

The beast is proven to be troublesome indeed. True to what is being told, it’s a colossal three-headed bipedal golden dragon, with fan-like wings and two-pronged tails. What makes it troublesome is the fact that not only each of its heads is capable of firing devastating lightning breaths but said lightning breath is also used to lift objects and flings them to its opponent. Not only that, it’s also capable of making a protective barrier around it. It easily shrugs off everything the Blue Mages throw at it due to that and its seemingly durable skin.

“Ugh-! This guy’s tough!” P’yandih yells out among the chaos as she revives Martyn, who had used a buffed Self Destruct as a last ditch effort, with Angel Whisper.

Cole looks around frantically, finding that they’re on the losing side. None of their wide repertoire of spells work on slowing it down, let alone killing it. Brass Blades and backup Immortal Flames alike fell one by one. Survivors who feared for their lives fled the scene after the dragon’s display of might, some carrying the corpses of their dead comrades. Those who stand their ground are on their guard, ready to launch another assault even if it means joining their fallen brethrens.

“Damn it! Nothing works on it! Is this really as far as we could go?!” Martyn blurts out, baffled by the fact that the beast just brushes off everything they throw at it. Even his last ditch effort didn’t work.

As the situation grows dire, Cole could only grit his teeth as he looks up at the giant three-headed dragon. No! There has to be something they could do! They just don’t know it yet!

His thought process is violently interrupted by a heated rupture within his belly. It has grown unbearable ever since they first engaged with the beast, yet at the time he had managed to hold it down. Now, not anymore. The heat within him has built to the point that there could be a literal sun enclosed in his body, as if it could melt his insides. His breaths heave as he feels like he’s going to explode, gagging violently as the heat travels through his throat.

The two Blue Mages give him a worried look. Great. The dragon’s still rampaging and now one of their comrade’s gonna throw up. Before Martyn could voice his complaint, Cole immediately put up his hand in a stopping gesture at him before finally caving in, keeling down as he expels whatever building inside him.

At first, thick heated black smoke regurgitates out his mouth. It’s hot enough for everyone within 15 yalms to feel it. Then comes the flame works, clouding up from the impact against the dry ground beneath. P’yandih - having taken out of her stupor - is quick to evacuate herself and the dumbfounded Martyn away from the growing flames, the commander of Brass Blade follows suit as he orders the surviving soldiers to fall back. The fire quickly spreads out, alerting the three-headed dragon as it’s visibly taking a step back.

As the heat within his throat expelled at such a very high pace, the fire soon concentrated into one single violet-colored laser beam. Its ear-piercing sound masks his agonizing screams, his internals almost literally on fire. He panics, not knowing what’s going on with his body nor why his vomit causes so much destruction. His head thrashes from side to side, unable to control his motion. The aimless laser beam to slice through everything and anything unfortunate enough to make contact with it. The dragon roars before putting up its invisible barrier again, yet the beam easily slices through it. It’s enough to tear onto its last defense, the previously durable skin now starting to tear off from the heat, causing the dragon to cry out in pain and rage.

For a moment, the beam ceases, leaving the tanned Hyur gasping for air. Yet his relief is short lived as he feels another wave pushing its way out of his throat. As he weakly lifts his head towards the beast, his opponent starts to charge up its own gravity bending lightning breaths from each of its heads before firing it at him, each lightning mingling midway into one giant lightning-aspected beam. In his terror, he hurls out his own violet beam towards the direction of the bigger beam. The two collide, equally matched in power. The dragon, filled with wrath and anger, tries to push its own against Cole’s. His mind races in fear. Not only is the dragon’s about to kill him, but the heat within his body almost feels neverending.

“I don’t wanna die like this! I don’t care how, just take it off me!!!”

As if sensing his distress, the atomic energy discharges itself anew. Its newfound strength flips the table in his favor as it overpowers the dragon’s beam. The dragon finds itself perplexed, letting its guard down just enough to weaken its beam. The violet beam continues its skyward travel until it hits its primary head, scarring it for the rest of its life. Howling in pain, the dragon takes flight, sensing that this is a losing fight for it. It flies away, warily avoiding the violet beam as it does so.

With all the heat spent from combating the dragon, the beam starts to cease down. First returning to its flaming roots, changing into the cloud of smoke before dissipating completely. Cole could only pant in relief as it’s finally over. His own energy fades away as he drops face first to the dry Thanalan ground, falling unconscious.

-o0o-

“Will he be alright?”

“His aether’s equilibrium is in shambles but given time, it’ll balance itself out eventually. Our chirurgeons will do their best to help speed things up.”

“You were saying that everyone involved was afflicted, yet only him who took the worst of it?”

“Indeed. Though you both also suffered from aetheric imbalance, yours were not as severe. That’s why we’re confident with discharging you early. I couldn’t say the same for him, given his condition.”

“...”

“How long before he’s conscious again?”

“We estimate about a week or so. Maybe less if the Twelves bless him with quick recovery.”

“A-... A week?! You can’t be serious! It’s that bad?!”

“I’m afraid so…”

“...”

“Pardon me for asking, but I was led to believe that he had tried to perform a difficult yet lethal spell. Is that correct?”

“...Aye. He did.”

“And did you say he experienced nausea and intense pain after the first incantation but before the laser beam was unleashed?”

“Y-Yes…”

“Then I suggest that he refrains from performing such spell again, knowing its destructive effects on both his body and the surrounding area. Even if, say, the situation is dire enough, under no circumstance he’s allowed to execute the laser beam spell. Do you understand?”

“...Yes. I’ll keep that in mind. As his guildmaster, I’ll take responsibility for what had happened and shall I remind him accordingly.”

“Good. We’ll keep you updated on his condition should it improve or worsen.”

“Thank you…”

-o0o-

It is nighttime when he finally comes through, the only light he witnesses from behind half-lidded eyes is one tiny candlelight to his left. Groaning quietly, he tries to get up before a palm on his chest stops him from doing so.

“Don’t get up just yet.”

It’s P’yandih’s voice, soft yet the tone of worry is undeniable.

“Yandih…? Ugh… How long have I been out…?” he asks groggily, obeying her command to lay back on the mattress. A soft one, he noted.

“About three days. The chirurgeon expected it to be longer but thankfully you recovered quickly,” the pink haired Miqo’te explains.

Three days… He’s been out for three days… Either he’s too exhausted or something else’s in play because there’s no way he’s out for that long if it’s only to fight a monster.

“A healer told us you suffered from aetheric imbalance.”

Oh… Well, that explains it then.

They both fall silent. Only the sounds of their breath and the hums of Ul’dah’s night life disturb the silence within the cold walls of the room.

P’yandih is the first one to break the silence.

“I don’t get it… I-It’s just a spell… right? It shouldn’t be different from everything we’ve learned so far. And yet… Why did you have to suffer from it? I just… I just don’t understand!”

The Hyur gazes weakly at her sympathetically. He himself similarly confounded. How come a mere spell he got from a beast capable of rendering him exhausted just from casting it once? He had gotten spells from resurrected Primals. None of them ever made him this tired on their first cast. Yet, as his resting form gives him more time to think, he realizes he might’ve a clear idea why.

“The monster… It… It was hurt… The laser breath hurt it…”

His muttering earns him a confused look from his Miqo’te compatriot, a puzzled ‘Eh?’ escapes her lips.

Cole sluggishly turns his head, his gaze penetrating the frosted glass window of the room. Light from outside dances on the reflection of his eyes. The serene sight is enough to soothe his dread as he recounts his experience meticulously.

“The Echo… It showed me how the monster felt. Constantly living in torment and suffering. Even when it attacked, it’s because of the pain inside it. I… I think its pain transferred to me… when I acquired its aether. That’s why I…”

He trails his words, struggling to convey his conclusion. But P’yandih is quick to catch his intention, holding his hand reassuringly with hers. Though not understanding fully, she at least gets the basic idea of it. She always took their spell gathering activity for granted, she never considered the possible empathetic side effect of absorbing their opponents’ aether for their own gain. Her expression is compassionate, assuring her guildmates to not talk any further.

“I get it, Cole… I just… never thought of that. I guess if they have a very strong emotion, their aether would resonate with you.”

Cole nods at her words, finding it as an acceptable conclusion. “Aye… Perhaps that’s why I… felt what it felt… when I casted that laser breath.” His eyes downcast as he recalls the delayed reaction of his newfound spell. “It’s not instant. It… builds up. Slowly and steadily. Until you’re unable to hold it anymore…”

He closes his eyes, imagining the pain he felt from the built up down to the completion. “It hurts… It hurts so much…”

P��yandih’s palm lightly slapping against his cheek brings him back to reality, his eyes pry half-lidded as he turns to look back at the Miqo’te. The latter had leaned forward so her hand could reach his face.

“Shush, you’re alright now. That’s all that matters,” she reassures, straightening her seat once the Hyur gazes at her once more. “We wont force you to do that again, knowing its consequences. Even if the situation’s dire enough, we wouldn’t want to put you at risk like that again. Now get some rest, okay? You might be recovering but you still need to relax after what happened.”

A smile forms on the Hyur’s lips at his friend’s kindness, soft hum escapes his throat as he complies to the Miqo’te’s command, sinking back to the soft mattress.

“Yandih? How’s he doing?”

Martyn’s voice disturbed the tender moment, the sound of door opening is followed by the guildmaster’s footsteps closing in to his exhausted pupil’s bed. The person he addressed quickly gets up from her seat, blocking his way towards his tanned counterpart.

“He should be fine now, but he still needs to rest. Please, don’t disturb him for now.”

“Is that so?” The expert Blue Mage’s eyes shift from P’yandih to Cole, assessing his condition and weighing if he’d chat with him for some time or leave him to rest. He sighs once he sees how exhausted his prized student is, deciding for the latter. “Alright then. No good would come from talking with him in this state. But I expect a full explanation once he recovers,” he says uncharacteristically sternly towards the Miqo’te.

“Don’t worry, sir! I can fill in what I know in the meantime,” P’yandhi nods in agreement and concealed confidence.

This earned her a strange look from Martyn, before he chanced upon Cole’s reassuring gaze and nod directed at the guildmaster, letting him know that he could trust P’yandhi in the duration of his recovery. An exasperated smile is his only response before he says, “Very well. Should we take this outside then?”

P’yandih nods enthusiastically before skipping her way towards the exit, leaving both men inside. Before the tanned Hyur could speak, Martyn beat him to it. A reassuring if mischievous smile plastered on his face.

“Don’t worry about the bills. Our guild’s coffers should pay enough to cover it. Just focus on recovering, will you? It wont do if The Great Azuro the Second’s missing from our grand Masked Carnivale.”

Though Martyn’s words betray his primary concern, it’s nonetheless enough to comfort Cole’s unspoken worries. The guildmaster bows politely to his prized student before excusing himself outside, trailing behind his other pupil.

An amused huff escapes Cole’s breath as he finds himself alone. Despite their shortcomings, a part of him was glad that his Blue Mage companions still cared for him after such disastrous event. He relaxes himself, gaze lingering on the lone lit candle before its fluttering flame lulls him back to sleep, content to know that - from this point on - everything would be okay.

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azlrse · 2 years

Note

“But your plan of escape was about to begin. You ain't gonna write a letter to let them know that you were married towards the king himself but rather using special codes that your family knew about the kidnapping.”

Oh Ho Ho the potential right here.

If reader does go through with the letter, assuming Dark Cacao doesn’t read it first, and sends it to their family it probably wont go over well. Like one of your children disappears in the middle of the night and no one looks for them apart from family. The knights and police just shrug and write it off as a runaway cookie but reader’s parents know better. Someone did something to reader and it’s being covered up. And when reader sends a letter out of the blue it sends panic and relief to their family, until the special codes are read. Their child kidnapped and then forcibly married to their king?! Repeat that? Kidnapped by their king, then forced to marry them….

Oh I would not be surprised if reader gets a letter back hinting that the whole family is coming to visit. Just a friendly family reunion over one family member getting married to royalty! Absolutely no way will this end horribly. Right?

Sweet Escape (Yandere Dark Cacao Cookie x GN Cookie!Reader)

CW: yandere themes, abuse of power, failed escape attempt and angst.

A/N: originally, this was intended to be an answer for this ask but I was suddenly in a mood to turn this into a fic.

*contains headcanons & a drabble.

Continuation of I Do Love You!

‿︵‿︵ʚ˚̣̣̣͙ɞ・❉・ ʚ˚̣̣̣͙ɞ‿︵‿︵

In the Yandere AU, Reader Cookie was far more clever then the Reader Cookie we've seen some of my Dark Cacao fics. Even after their many failed attempts of escaping this loveless marriage, they still didn't gave up. Their only way to inform their family back that they're okay and was to inform that they were taken away and was forced to be wed off to the king, the king that they absolutely adored and respected.

When you were about to deliver the letter, you told your 'husband' that he must respect your wishes to avoid opening the letter, not only it was disrespectful towards you but also an invasion of privacy. Dark Cacao Cookie loves you deeply so he complies with your wishes this one time.

Imagine the shock and surprise your family felt when the mailman relievers your letter out of the blue. Your mother was crying heavily upon reading the letter and that's when she and your entire family finds out the reason why you disappeared that particular night.

The gut feeling she felt ever since your disappearance, all the allegations your parents told the guards, even the watchers but alas, they didn't do anything due to the lack of evidences they had.

Then, they finally saw the cade that was created through various capitalizations on each words; 'TABCSH' which stands for "TAKEN AT BLACK CITADEL, SEND HELP"

Upon arriving at the palace, you and your husband were waiting outside of the castle doors and there they were, in front of your eyes was the pair of cookies who raised you with so much love and care ever since you were a freshly baked cookie. You and your parents cried upon embracing each other, showing how much you missed your parents embraced and apologized for all the tears and worry they felt and shed for their own child.

Your 'husband' on the other hand, greeted his in-laws with high respect. You father never wanted to punch his face for taking you away from them but nonetheless was held back by your mom by squeezing his arm.

Your parents were also in awe and a bit surprised by your appearance, your white winter coat and dress was no longer in sight but wore a tiara that was similar to the king and a fancy hanbok that had the same color palette as his clothing.

They were thanking the witches that despite being kidnapped in the middle of the night, you are taken good care and loved by your husband and there were no bruises nor wounds were seen in your body.

As soon as he left the room (to give you some time to spend with your parents), your parents didn't waste their time to climb off the window and helped you to escape the palace. They thought that just because they became friendly towards the king, they already accepted him? Hell no, they don't accept him, not even one bit.

Your parents didn't care if they lost their lives in an attempt to rescue you, the just want their child to be home and perhaps if you want, to be wed off to the cookie you truly loved without force.

Upon returning back to the room, he didn't hear your voice nor your parents. He felt the wave of paranoia through his body as he approached the room quickly and his nightmare became true as soon as he opened the door. You and your parents weren't there, he only saw the window of the room being opened as the purple curtains blew from the cold wind from the outside.

Needless to say, he is beyond pissed off like really pissed. How dare you betrayed his trust?! How could you do that to your own husband?! Isn't he enough for you or is he a bad lover? He needs to know what's lacking from him that made you leave him.

Without hesitation, he orders all of the guards and warriors of the kingdom to search for you. No one was allowed to sleep unless his spouse is found. He doesn't want to punish you but he didn't have a choice.

. ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .

"Return back their majesty!! By the king's orders, you must stop running!!" The watcher's voices were ringing through your head. You and your parents were running endlessly away from the Black Citadel as the pitter patter of the snow from the ground made it difficult for the three of you to run faster. Out of spite, you threw the tiara away towards the ground while ignoring the lingering pain and numbness you felt from your legs.

You knew how Dark Cacao would react if you escaped the palace. Your husband isn't the type of cookie to be temperamental but rather keeps it bottled but through this stunt? Oh boy, his anger was about to erupt like a volcano if he finds you and returns you back at the Black Citadel.

You've become so focused from running that you stepped on a trip wire that activated the trap below you, causing you to be trapped within the tough fabric that not even a knife could go through. You only heard your parents screaming for your name as they were dragged away from the fabric you were trapped in, causing you to move frantically in an attempt to get out. The last thing you remembered before you passed out from exhaustion and numbness was Dark Cacao ordering your parents to be banned not only from the kingdom but also to see you.

They're lucky that their only punishment was banishment, not life imprisonment from the deepest depths of the dungeon.

. ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .

You woke up from the gentle feeling of a hand caressing your head back and forth. The comfortable feeling from your bedroom in your family's home took you back, it's warm and soft, just like the bed you used to lay down own. And something cold was wrapped around from your leg, an ice pack to be specific. Upon waking up, all the pain and numbness you felt from your leg came back.

"I see that you're awake, my love. I'm glad that you're okay. However, what you did hours ago was truely irresponsible and reckless." You quickly turned your head from the source of the voice and there he was, sitting right beside you. Isn't that a bit creepy of him to be watched after you passed out?

You quickly stood up, not realizing that the pain from your legs prevent you from walking. Groaning from the pain you felt, Dark Cacao quickly got up from the bed and quickly carried you back towards the warm bed. "Your legs are still a bit swollen, you must rest, beloved." You felt anger as soon as he carries you, hitting his body multiple times but he didn't budge.

Then it hit you, your parents!!! Your eyes widen at the thought of your family's status. "My parents!! What did you do to them, Dark Cacao?! I swear if you did something to them, I won't hesitate to strangle you until you passed out!!" He got quiet and stared at the window of the shared bedroom.

"For your sake, I didn't threw them to the dungeon," that made you sigh from relief. "I only banished them from our kingdom-" "YOUR kingdom, Dark Cacao." you quickly cut him off. OUR kingdom? Tsk, this isn't your kingdom to begin with, this was his and his alone. You never considered his kingdom to be your home, not before he took you away from your former life. "And banishment was their punishment?! Are you this selfish for keeping me away from the cookies I truely cared for?! You truely are a selfish prick, Dark Cacao!! I hate you!! I truely hate you with all my heart and I never even consider you as my husband!!"

He only stared at you quietly and he lets those words sink into his mind. Hate him? Selfish? Those are the words that described him as you berate him even more from his actions. Dark Cacao silently walked towards the door and spoke at you in an empty voice. "As long as you knew your place here, I'm keeping this door locked 24/7. Your meals were to be delivered by one of the warriors here. You can be free from the bedroom if you reflected on what you've done hours ago. This is your punishment."

And just like that, he closes the door and locks it. "Then fine! I don't need someone like you anyways, you jerk!" You shouted back as you crossed your arms in spite. As soon as Dark Cacao left the room, he lets a tear slide off his face silently as he remembered all the degrading words you called him.

How he wishes that you just turn back to the old you when he first met you; happy, energetic and friendly. If he didn't go through this route, he could have you in his life. If he didn't indulge into his selfish deeds, his married life with you would be filled with happiness and joy. And now, he must share this pain with you and he'll do whatever it takes for you to be happy once again.

But for now, he must leave you alone...

‿︵‿︵ʚ˚̣̣̣͙ɞ・❉・ ʚ˚̣̣̣͙ɞ‿︵‿︵

Do not republish, edit, or repost to other websites.

Reblogs and likes are appreciated! 💕

#tw yandere #cookie run x reader #crk x reader #cookie run kingdom #crk dark cacao #dark cacao cookie x reader #dark cacao x reader #crk dark cacao cookie #cookie run imagines #yandere cookie run x reader #cookie run #cr kingdom #cookie run imagine

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madametrashbin · 3 years

Text

A Lovely Day

A gift for @nicebonescomrade because why not.

I did mention to le comrade of bones on main weeks(?) ago that I was making another Disney Princess AU (credit to @i-put-the-yan-in-polyandry for this AU by the way), which is this but also wanted to try out Scaramouche so... *awkwardly finger guns* I made this... fic. I’msorrythiswasn’tfullyplannedoutandnotevensureifitfitsbutIwantedtotrysomethingnewtoday/tonight.

I also apologize for not posting for weeks because good god why did I sign myself up to do world building using characters that will never be mentioned ever again? But alas, I must march on with the Cosmos series and crawl my way forward.

Uhh... yeah, enjoy this while I die over Veil of Starlight. AndmanyapologiesforthisbeingshorterthanmyusualworksbecauseIdunnohowtowriteScaraandI’minterribleneedforsomecomfortandcravingforhugsrightnow-

It is quiet, but perfect day outside.

A day like every other, with the singing birds and pleasant atmosphere... occasional visits from the animals, the Abyss Order and monsters alike.

None means any harm, of course. Why would they, when their lovely Creator is with them and gracing their lives with their smile?

Ah, there was also that puppet made by that one God, but that detail is insignificant... he’s not like his maker in the slightest, and was certainly different from the rest with how much their Creator adored him.

He was the only one who did not harm them after all, so it is only fair that they leave him be unlike the rest of the world who dared to do so in their blind beliefs and self-imposed justified truths.

It is a peaceful day outside, and the Garden that houses their beloved Creator will always remain that way... contrary to the world outside where civilizations beg and cry out for mercy from the very God they thought to wrong.

No sinner is allowed in the Garden, and only those loved by their Creator are allowed to stay.

The world outside is harsh, Teyvat had condemned them all with eternal suffering for their transgressions.

Scaramouche has witnessed the world’s act of retribution from his place in the Garden, watching the sinner try to beg and plea for their Creator’s mercy. He finds it hilarious that they’re trying to desperately appease you now, despite the fact not once did they ever hear your pleas.

He heard you though.

He heard your pleas, and had been the only one who had done so.

Because of that, he had earned his place by your side forever, and was most fortunate to be taken in as the one you love and adore the most out of all the other fools who call themselves your “acolytes”.

He only laughs every time he sees one of them try to get near in their weakened state, only to be sent away by the likes of the creatures who thrive as your protectors... the same one who stayed by your side before he came.

“Kuni...”

Your voice is quiet, yet so loud in his ears that it has his entire existence shaking in both awe and love for you. It is heavily laced with sleep as you had been napping beside him earlier before he went to check the state of the world outside.

Now you’re partially awake, and with the call of his name that not many were graced to know, he immediately knelt by your side with a delicate touch to your outstretched hands.

“Yes, my dear?”

If anyone who knew him had seen him speak with such a soft and fond voice, they would have thought they were hallucinating... but none of those worthless fools are here, and he has you all to himself.

(Of course, there is also Teyvat but he doesn’t bother with that subject all that much since he still cannot fathom the thought of being “rivals” with an entire planet.)

“Cuddle.”

You only said to him, and he willingly complies because who was he to deny something that he desired all the same?

So he laid himself upon the soft ground, letting you move on top of him where your head rests upon his chest... your arms holding each other close and legs lazily tangled together.

Today is a nice day outside, like every other day he spent in the Garden.

A lovely day... perfect for another nap in his opinion as the gentlest breeze brushes over your forms and wished you both a wonderful nap under the warm sunlight.

#self aware genshin #genshin impact x reader #yandere genshin x reader #scaramouche x reader #uhh #Disney Princess AU #I guess #skjsksjksj #I don't know what I was doing with this #I never tried write scara before #it's been weeks #I tried my best with this #idk what to tag with this either #this is too soft for yandere lmao #soft yandere #should work... I think #I'm dying with world building though...#dead cast don't got much on em #*quietly crying and dying inside over plot*

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liyuesbian · 3 years

Text

liyue girls and fanfiction tropes

contains: beidou, ganyu, hu tao, keqing, ningguang, xiangling, xinyan, yanfei

notes: crack fic lowkey because why not ahaha

BEIDOU # sick fic

sighing, you lie in your bed and try to get up to eat breakfast

your head throbs with pain from a headache but you persist

AHAHAHAHAH

yeah, you thought wrong -_-

collapsing back into bed, you decide to stay and rest a little bit

you're the apprentice of yinxing, the surgeon of the crux fleet and you know it'd be best not to tire yourself too much

after all, feeling sick at sea is definitely a lot worse than feeling sick while on solid ground

a few hours pass and the rest of the crux are wondering where you are, especially captain beidou

so she brings it upon herself to check in on you

as soon as she discovers you sleeping in bed with the curtains drawn, she realises your unconscious shivering is not a good sign

beidou presses a hand onto your forehead to assess your temperature and as she thought, you were down with a cold

your eyes open slowly when you feel the contact

"hi there, captain," you cough out. "please, stay away, colds are contagious and i wouldn't want to give it to anyone else in the crew."

beidou wears a sympathetic expression and says, "hey, you know i can't just leave a fellow crewmate unattended while sick."

"and i won't be able to go about my duties without worrying"

you don't hear the last sentence so when you produce a confused face, beidou hastily covers it up with a: "what kind of captain would i be then?"

you attempt a smile

"you'd still be the best captain i've ever had the privilege of serving under, captain beidou."

this earns a guffaw from the electro wielder

"i'm the only captain you've ever served under"

you shift into a fetal position to face her and shrug

"still the best though"

the woman lifts both her eyebrows and exhales in defeat

"get some rest, apprentice" she pats your hair and you inadvertently snuggle into her palm

slightly surprised by your reaction, beidou has a second thought

"have you eaten yet?"

you manage to croak out a "no" to which beidou insists on cooking you up some warm miso soup

too exhausted to argue back, you comply and beidou quickly goes to fetch a wet towel to put on your forehead while you wait

half an hour later, your superior is helping you sit up to eat the soothing rice porridge

you smile as she spoon-feeds you

the rest of the day is spent exchanging different stories that pop up in your minds and when you finally fall asleep, beidou leaves a soft kiss on your forehead and gets up to leave

alas, it's the captain's turn to lie in bed, ill with a cold

yinxing complains to her, muttering about how she shouldn't have spent the whole day yesterday with a sick person

but yinxing already knows beidou carries zero ounces of regret

on your end, you're wondering how on earth she caught your cold when you always made sure to never cough anywhere near her

you should probably apologise and you figure you'd pay your captain a visit later as a thank you

GANYU # fake relationship

"ganyu, over here!"

you wave over to your friend

you had actually planned to meet two weeks ago but the secretary kept postponing due to clashes with work and a lot of overtime

"it's a miracle! the qixing's finally let you have a day off!" you joke

"please don't speak badly of them. it's partly my fault for not finishing off all my assignments as i was supposed to."

you pout and grab hold of ganyu's arm as you walk to wanmin

"but they're always taking my wife away from me,"

you retaliate dramatically, bringing your free arm up to your face in a fainting motion

the blue-haired woman can't help but blush upon hearing the word "wife" and she hides it well

when you reach the restaurant, you notice that the person behind the counter isn't xiangling's dad or xiangling herself

hmm must be a new employee

just as you're about to state your order, the man boldly says, "oh we have a discount for all couples today since it's white day*!"

it's white day today?

"oh, we're not a co-"

"AHAHA wow, how did you know?" you intervene swiftly before ganyu can correct him and you move your linked arm to caress your supposed "partner's" waist

you give her a soft nudge with the tips of your fingers to try and get the message over

who, in their right mind, says no to a discount?!

thankfully, ganyu appears to understand and she smiles nervously up at the man

even better, he buys the transparent lie

as soon as he leaves to prepare your meals, the secretary turns to glare at you

"why would you lie about our relationship like that?"

you shrug. "why not? i'll do anything for a cheaper price,"

"but you're cheating the poor restaurant out of their well-deserved profits"

you ponder hard for a reply

"why don't you just think of it as a treat for all that overtime you've been doing?"

ganyu sighs

there's no point in arguing with you

"and besides, you like wanmin a lot so now, you have some spare cash to buy even more dishes from them!"

it's twisted reasoning but you can't think of anything else

"here are your orders. i hope you two enjoy and wishing you even more years together as a couple."

"oh? i didn't know you were dating?"

in shock, you turn around to see your friend childe with a surprised expresssion on his face

that happened about a month ago

the plan was only to pretend to be in a relationship

yet here you are... catching feelings...

you see, whenever you were with ganyu, that fatui jerk would somehow always cross paths with you

it couldn't be some mere coincidence, you thought

he's messing with us, isn't he?

back at the restaurant, the both of you had tried to convince the snezhnayan that you really were dating so the discount would still apply

you weren't sure if he could see through the ploy but after encountering him so frequently, it really felt like you were in a relationship

one thing would lead to another and after lots of coddling and holding each other's pinkies and casual kisses, you couldn't help but become even greedier

you wanted to spend every minute of every day in her company, to see her giggle and her face brighten

even to comfort her when she'd cry or be someone she'd be able to rant to and rely on

you thought you were only joking whenever you'd call her your wife but now, you wish it were real

*white day - celebrated in some asian countries a month after valentine's to send gifts in reciprocation to those who gave you their valentine's

HU TAO # first kiss

you did it

it happened

the moment you thought would never exist outside of your imagination―your first kiss

embarrassed, your hands fly to your mouth but your brain doesn't move as quickly

you're still trying to process what's just happened: you and hu tao were having a 2-by-2 rap battle against xingqiu and chongyun and after your team's victory, you'd found yourself kissing your partner-in-crime in a state of pure elation

hu tao notices your crisis and tries assuring you that it was "just a touching of the lips" and "if you think about it, it isn't real if there are no feelings involved!"

but the problem is, it felt very real and there definitely were feelings involved!

you'd had a crush on the funeral director for quite a long time―this, of course, was a secret you wanted to hide

after a few seconds of hu tao flailing her hands in front of your star-struck face, you decide to brush it off and play it cool

"yeah, you're right. it was just a small gesture of..."

you hesitate, you aren't sure where you're going with this before xingqiu interjects

"of love, right?"

this motherfucker

you just know the young heir is smirking without looking at his face and you glare at him

relieved from the "joke" xingqiu's made, hu tao laughs, "hehe well, i love you too!"

she drags you in for a hug and you're glad the polearm user couldn't feel your warm cheeks

"i just knew we'd win that rap battle!"

eyebrows raised, xingqiu and chongyun give you a knowing smile and you groan internally

guess it's not a secret anymore

KEQING # unrequited love

keqing sighs regretfully, "i'm sorry. i can't love you the same way."

"that's okay, i never expected you too," you whisper

you had been preparing for this moment, you thought you'd have it all under control

you would tell her, she would reject you and then you'd beam up at her to reassure her that you'd be alright

you were confident that burying these feelings would be effortless

so why,

why are there tears threatening to spill from your eyes

and why

are you feeling this immense, heavy wave of sorrow?

was it the realisation that you would no longer be able to stare into her eyes and see her innocent grin appear when she does the same

or cook your best friend's favourite meals after long, draining days at work to be rewarded as you witness her eyes radiate with love

or play with her silken hair, plaiting the usual section into a braid and tucking every strand neatly behind each bun

would she miss it too?

it suddenly hits you, how the yuheng would likely distance herself so as not to cause confusion and burden you even further

the usual interactions and sincere conversations will come to an end

you know it would take some time to return to routine and the weight of reality was too overwhelming and too abrupt for you to bear

but in front of her, you strengthen yourself, suppressing the tears and you carry on with the original plan

you can't hold it in as well as you thought though, the lump in your throat growing as tears course down your cheeks

you want to be selfish, to break down and grieve the loss of future, happy moments in hopes that the aching in your chest would come to a steady halt

your voice cracks when you say, "thank you."

pausing, you inhale when your breath becomes unsteady

"thank you for replying honestly"

and you muster the widest smile you can

NINGGUANG # arranged marriage

you knew that the tianquan was looking for a potential marriage partner―it was news all over liyue

what you didn't expect was that you would be one of those candidates

in fact, you aren't even a candidate, you had already been cherrypicked by ningguang herself, unbeknownst to you

thus, here you are, in the renowned jade chamber

the structure you thought you'd only ever observe from the ground

the ground

that's where you belong isn't it?

so why are you suddenly associating with the qixing of all people!?

however, after a quick inspection of your surroundings, you thought it wouldn't be so bad, having a beautiful, rich wife-

you shake your head violently

what are you thinking?

you were not so materialistic the last time you checked!

but maybe once you can try sitting on the tianquan's chair while she's not around

in this position, you admire a new perspective of the chamber and you suddenly feel omnipotent

"i see you've settled in nicely."

you jolt in surprise

ningguang emerges from around the corner and you scurry off the chair

"oh no, please, stay seated."

you make eye contact with the woman's cold gaze and you do as she says, obediently

she walks towards you and with every step, the clicking of her heels reverberate around the room and bounce off the walls

the following six seconds feel tortuous and you sink further into the piece of furniture as she nears you

you also hadn't noticed you'd shut your eyes until the sound of her footsteps had ceased

cautiously, you open one and realise ningguang is standing right beside you

hold on, she's not standing―the tianquan is kneeling on the floor!

you never thought you'd want to be the floor so badly in your life

"i deeply apologise for how i never did ask for your permission first but before that, there is still a proper order and actions to be done for this to work."

ningguang opens a drawer next to her that contains a single, black box which she gracefully picks up with her gloved fingers

your eyes widen

"may i have your hand in marriage?"

XIANGLING # there was only one bed

with only guoba seperating the both of you, you and xiangling are huddled under the duvet on her bed, one asleep and the other... currently in a state of panic

you were only supposed to come over for dinner and to eat delicious food but this has nothing to do with food at all!

you shriek in your head, wondering how you got into such a situation

you and xiangling are childhood friends so it was a common occurence back then to be sleeping over at each others'

however, you aren't children anymore and either way, it felt like you had been tricked into agreeing

the young chef knows perfectly well you can never resist her puppy eyes!

your thoughts are interrupted when you hear xiangling shuffling

she rolls around to face you and as you're staring at her long eyelashes, she suddenly opens both of her eyes

scared shitless, you scream and the navy-haired girl giggles

"xiangling!"

you huff and cross your arms

"i seriously thought i was going to die from a heart attack!"

childishly, you shift your body away from your friend and pretend to go to sleep

"aww but i was only joking, please come back!"

you can easily hear the sad frown on her face―which you feel slightly bad for―and a sigh escaping her lips as she gives up

a few minutes pass and while xiangling thinks you're in a deep slumber, she swaps places with guoba and tangles her legs with yours

you feel her hands playing with your hair, clearing the strands away from your face

there's a pause in movement as she rests her arm around your waist

she's wary and almost unsure of what to do next but then, she notices your breath hitch from the repetitive skinship

cursing internally at yourself, you think you've given yourself away but just before you're about to pivot yourself, she buries her face into the back of your neck, making you freeze and you hear her faintly whisper:

"i like you...

...a lot more than you can imagine."

XINYAN # "spotted in the crowd"

your friend and coworker at wangsheng funeral parlour, zhongli, had invited you to a certain singer's gig tonight

he was intrigued by the new form of music and thought you might like it too

so here you are, taking a seat opposite to zhongli at heyu tea house

neither of you had had dinner so you scour the menu to find something you'd like

"one serving of jade parcels and a bowl of jewelry soup please!" you shout, excited for the food

"please add one cup of oolong tea to that order," zhongli says out loud

you glance curiously at your coworker, "you're not hungry, mr. zhongli?"

"that seems to be the case," he responds, nodding

while you wait for your orders, you remember the name of the singer to be "xinyan" and you try to hack your brain to figure out why it sounds so familiar

but as soon as said singer leaps onto the stage to begin her performance, you instantly recognise her

you would occasionally overhear the conversations of people on the streets and you know the majority consider her "scary" for liking and singing loud music and having spikes scattered throughout her attire but you never thought much of it since you'd never personally seen her or listened to her songs

the only reason you could identify her was because of the many distinct points to her appearance: her red highlights, the spikes on her shoulders and ankles, the drum attached to her back and the guitar she holds so dearly

not a lot of people in liyue would have such a style either

"thank you, everyone for coming! guess i'll begin my performance now. don't want y'all leavin' disapponted now, do we?" she winks at the audience and you hear people screaming in the back

you and zhongli simultaneously turn around and you only just notice how packed the teahouse is

you're lucky the table is near the front so you could see a full view of the stage but behind, a lot of liyue's youths have gathered to show their support for the guitarist

hmm, it seems not all of liyue perceives her as frightening

at first, the music wasn't really to your liking and you failed to see the appeal

but the way xinyan would belt her heart out, you could tell she's filled with passion and love for what she does

you even found yourself singing along with her during the chorus!

when your orders arrive, the waiter comes bustling towards your table with a barrage of 'excuse me's and 'watch out!'

poor guy, the crowd's giving him such a hard time

you never would have thought that fan er'ye, the owner of the place, would've allowed xinyan to perform and you chuckle to yourself

your small laugh may have caught the attention of the girl onstage and as you look up, your eyes meet with xinyan's gold ones midway through the instrumental

it's quiet enough for the singer to say something into the mic

"y'know you have a cute laugh!" she grins while looking at you and motions with her hands to clarify that it's you she's talking about

the crowd howls and some wolf whistles can be heard which makes the rock artist roar with laughter

hot in the face, you shy away and zhongli gives an amused smile

"mr. zhongli!" you hiss, flustered

he shakes his head and carries on watching the performance

"thank you and have a good night!" xinyan ends her show with an impressive guitar riff

as the crowd disperses and the clapping dissipates, you squeal to zhongli, "what an experience! it was so liberating, so different, so-!"

"so-?"

you're startled by the voice behind you and as expected, xinyan is gripping the back of your chair, eager to hear your next words

"so surreal!" your eyes widen in elation as you grab her hands while zhongli sips his tea, observing the comical interaction before him

"thank you for performing for us tonight!"

the pyro wielder smiles and says "no, thank you! i need to go now but you have to promise to see my other shows―i'll be looking out for you!"

YANFEI # drunk confession

warnings: vomit, alcohol

ah, once again, yanfei is cleaning your shit after you became completely hammered at third-round knockout, the tavern in liyue harbour, and once again, she's repeatedly bowing and apologising on your behalf to degui, the owner

"how could you get so drunk that you knock yourself out in front of everyone! you're lucky i was passing by," the catalyst user scolds you and it's your turn to apologise

"i'm reaaally sorry."

your words slur together and you retch, feeling some food rising up your chest

gasping, yanfei hurries you to the grassy side of the street

you grasp the nearby tree for dear life as you expel the contents of your stomach

the legal adviser sighs, trying not to breathe in the stench but still attempting to push the hair away from your face

you stay in the same position for a few more minutes while yanfei encourages you to empty everything out

when you feel like you've finished, she drags you further away from the mess to sit down and tells you to wait as she buys a non-alcoholic drink from a food stall

still dizzy but feeling better after the whole ordeal, you clutch your face, massaging your head

still facing towards the pavement, you discover a glaze lily already detached from its roots

you reach out to it and twirl the dead flower around between your index finger and thumb

it reminds you of your crush: dead by the time you'll ever get around to confessing

by this time, the emerald-eyed girl has made it back with a cup of water in her hands

she seats herself beside you as she collapses onto the grass, exhausted

after you gulp the water down, you follow suit, clutching the glaze lily to your chest

"are you feeling better now?" yanfei asks quietly as she faces upwards

you thank god yanfei was there to help you out, a rapid wave of appreciation hitting you

no, seriously, you could cry

you nod and with drunken tears running down your face, you say

"thank you yanfei, you're such a good friend..."

you're not sure if it's the breath-taking view of the star-filled sky or maybe it's the alcohol giving you some much needed liquid courage

but before you could overthink, you turn to confront the girl next to you, shoving the lily towards her as you blurt out with tears still streaming down your face,

"...but i think i should go out with me."

it takes you a second to register what you've just said and you knit your eyebrows together, your eyes suddenly finding the off button for the waterworks and your mouth hanging slightly open in self-disbelief

yanfei bursts out laughing and she has to launch herself back up to catch her breath

when she finally settles down, she takes the drooping flower from your fingers and admits,

"i like you too, silly."

you're left wearing a shocked pikachu face for the rest of the night

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bibbykins · 3 years

Text

Penumbric Commitments (M)

A/N: Happy Valentine's Day!! I wrote this up real quick yesterday, so please forgive any lacking in quality, but I had the idea and absolutely sprinted with it! I hope you all enjoy and look forward to the next full length fic I post, which I gave a not so little hint in here to!

Warnings: 18+, unhealthy relationship, manipulation, yelling, rough sex, light bondage, the usage of a belt as wrist restraints (consensual), brief fingering, male cumming inside, talking about not wanting a child, daddy kink, threatening to leave, offering to kill someone, semi-graphic talks of killing someone

Word count: 3.8k

Genre: Soft Yandere, Mafia! Au

Summary: Hindsight says Namjoon so easily complying with not having children was too easy considering his position in the business and the nightmare his parents had readily become. What you didn't realize was how far Namjoon was willing to prove to you he meant what he said that day: all you both ever need is each other.

Note: this is a canon drabble apart of the Silhouetted Bonds fic linked here

It's times like these that you regret getting a traditional clock. The ticking was incessant and daunting. It felt like it was getting closer and closer to your ear with the deafening silence it was slicing through. Analogs had to be the way to go, or better yet, none at all. The last thing you needed right now was a reminder of how much time has been spent at this table. Namjoon had sprinted home the moment his mother called him after your meeting with her.

----

"Mrs. Kim, always a pleasure." You shook the older woman's hand with a tight smile.

She returned yours with an equally fake smile, "Please, you know you can call me mother." She chided, but nevertheless you stayed silent as you sat back down at the table in your home. It used to be mom.

It was 8 a.m. your mother in law wanted to meet, so to be petty, you stated 9 a.m. would be great. It's a shame that your relationship with her came to this, but truthfully, it was far from your fault.

While in the beginning she had been like a mother to you, things quickly took a steep downturn the moment Namjoon reintroduced you into his life. The woman who had once been lively, rebellious, and took charge became a demure, stoic, and merely content wife. She had given you talks about your duty as the wife of the boss and the expectations she expected you to fulfill nowadays as opposed to telling stories of her youth and teaching you how to bake eccentric treats. She had even admonished you for leaving Namjoon, an idea she gave you really. Since then, she had always stated your allegiance to the business and your own husband had yet to be proven in her eyes. The notion struck you to only provide her with business professional talks.

You had always known her and Namjoon's father had been a marriage of convenience, but there seemed to be intense love between them, at least at one point. You're not sure when that collapsed in your absence, and sure you felt bad,but you did not care for her patronizing tones. If Namjoon wouldn't retaliate, she almost definitely would've had you killed the moment you decided to leave her precious son.

"Now, I understand you're a busy woman, so I'll be chaste." She spoke as she took her seat, giving you a pointed look, "Do you feel as though you've made up for your betrayal?" This was obviously a trick question in her eyes, the simple answer being no.

However, you couldn't care less, "I have never betrayed anyone close to me, including Namjoon, if that's what you mean." You met her eyes with valor, "I don't see why you feel the need to ask such a silly question each time I see you."

She laughed humorlessly, "Maybe I'm hoping for the right answer to cross your stubborn mind." Truly, if Namjoon didn't love and cherish his parents so much you would've told her to fuck off and mind her business, maybe focus on her own shitty marriage, by now. Alas, Namjoon was a people pleaser and fiercely intent on being a filial son.

"You mean your answer to the question about how I feel?" You raised a brow, "Even when apart from Namjoon, I took no other man. I've never even lied to Namjoon, I've been nothing but an honest and hardworking wife after forgiving his own shortcoming in honesty." You watch her fist clench in her lap at the suggestion of her precious boy having a shortcoming of any sort, "A shortcoming well remedied, seeing as I'm still here." You chided lightly in spite of the heavy tension. You pitied your staff in this moment for having to watch this battle of wills.

"Sometimes husbands lie to… protect, their wives." She struggled to find the right words as she regurgitated what Namjoon's father undoubtedly told her one too many times. Misery loves company, and goodness, did she want you to be as miserable as her.

You returned her fake smile two fold before speaking, "That's lovely, but I don't need protecting from my husband, I need trust, honesty, respect." The final word made her back straighten, "I'd like to live in reality with him, not be shielded from it, but I respect what you wish for your own marriage, but this is what I like for mine."

She hummed in faux thought, "Very well, I can leave you to reflect on what marriage should be, you're still so young." You fought the urge to roll your eyes, "However, you're not that young…" This was a new addition, "When will I be receiving a grandchild?"

Your brows furrowed. Namjoon told you she took the news of no grandchildren quite well. He told you that she was informed of your no children rule mere days after you spoke the words. The radio silence on the topic of children each time you met with either of his parents confirmed much for you, and you had even found yourself quite proud of him for standing his ground with you. Surely, his parents are not nearly old enough to be so forgetful.

This was the first question in a while that made you falter, and you could see the satisfaction she gained from it, "Grandchildren? I'm unsure what you-"

"Namjoon told me the last time I visited him in prison, you wanted to wait for your fifth wedding anniversary before trying for children, isn't that coming up quite soon?" She raised a brow and you felt your heart shatter.

He lied to you. Again. He lied to you mere moments after you were ready to forgive him for lying to you the first time.

You let out a bitter laugh, "He did now?" She nodded and you shut your eyes for a moment, "It seems I've been made a fool of again." You sighed before looking as confusion crossed your mother-in-law's features, "I told Namjoon the very last time I visited him in prison that I did not want kids, ever."

"You know that's not possible for him, he's a successor." She laughed at your boldness.

"You know that he is an adult man with 6 brothers, biological or not, who will all marry one day, surely one of them will adopt or have a child." She scoffed at this, "I got my tubes tied years ago." This wiped the smile off her face.

"Does Namjoon know about this?" She snapped and you nodded with a bitter smile.

"He accompanied me to the appointment for moral support." You shot back.

"Well, your tubes can be untied and-"

"No." You deadpanned.

"No?" She mimicked in disbelief.

"If Namjoon requires a child, he will also require a new wife." Your voice was cold and you watched shock settle into the woman across from you, "With his habit of lying coming to light, he may have to find a new wife regardless."

She stood, "Don't be-"

"Please, do not waste your breath on orders I will not be following." You held your hand up to silence her.

"I'll call Namjoon, he can talk this out with you, so you can see things our way." She tried to sound reassuring as one of your staff rushed to see her out respectfully when you did not budge from your seat.

You stayed seated at the mahogany table, staring at your wedding ring. You didn't want to get a divorce. You loved Namjoon, more than anything, and yet, did he love you more than anything?

----

You're not sure how long you stayed there, questioning everything, but it was enough time for Namjoon to come home. He ripped the door open, eyes searching frantically, ready to make sure you had not already left him before his eyes landed on your figure. From there, he took his seat across from you at the table and waited until he could no longer take the silence.

"Are you going to say anything?" Your husband's voice was calm, although fear was evident in his timbre.

You sucked your teeth and shrugged, continuing to look at your freshly manicured nails, "What's there to say?" Your voice was short, as if you were already tired of the conversation before it could even start, "You lied to me."

Your husband dropped his head into his hands and sighed, "Junebug, I'm sorry, I-"

"You embarrassed me, again." You look at him for the first time all night with a sharp glare, "Are you trying to find an excuse to divorce or do you just not care about me?"

"Neither!" His head shot up and he met your eyes with deep regret when he realized you were looking at him with the anger and hurt he found you with all this years ago, "I love you, more than anything-"

"Obviously not!" You snapped, "Do you have any idea how it feels to explain to your shitty and judgy mother in law that, in spite of what her precious son said, you had no plans to have children, that you got your fucking tubes tied?!" Namjoon sighed, either in shame or pain, "Were you just hoping that would come around? That I'm such a fickle woman that I don't mean what I say?"

His brows furrowed, "No, if I thought that, why did I let you get your tubes tied?!"

"Let me?" Your voice was mockingly soft, "You let me, huh?" You cocked your head slightly and he closed his eyes in frustration, "How fucking charitable of you, my sweet husband, master of the fucking house, to let your dumb little wife make a choice for her body!" You stood, "How considerate of you to play supportive husband only to fold the moment your mother asks you a question-"

"You know what my duty as the only son is!" It was his turn to raise his voice, but he immediately regretted it as he saw your eye twitch.

"And you knew my stance on kids before you got out of prison." You seethed, "You know why I don't want a fucking kid, nor do I plan to fold on my stance, because I'm all I've got left there." Namjoon's mouth parted slightly before he pressed his lips together.

"It's not my fault you don't want a kid because you'd be a bad mother just like your own." The words left his mouth before he could even begin to consider the repercussions. He was about to open his mouth again to back track wildly, but it was far too late as you took a step back, the weight of his words being too much to take from across the table.

He watched hurt consume your irises for only the second time in his life, the first time being mere hours before you left him for years, before you made him promise to never betray you like that again as a condition for you to come back to him. A condition that he evident did not adhere to in your eyes. "Do you want to know what made my mother such a bad mother?" He watched as the embers of rage within your eyes were only stoked by his reflection in your pupils, although he could see a thin layer of moisture begin to build up, pain, "You know, like I would be?" Your words were almost mocking as he stayed eerily still, "An unsupportive, isolating, and shitty sorry excuse for a fucking husband." Your word hit him like a truck.

Unsupportive. Isolating. Sorry excuse for a husband.

You weren't wrong right now. He felt shitty. He knew he should've just stood his ground. His parents didn't matter if it meant losing you, "I didn't mean that, what I said about-"

"You're right." A tear fell and he felt his heart shatter, "So if you want a kid, it'll have to be with someone else."

"I don't want anyone else, I never have!" He made his way to you as you weakly stepped back, "You're all I need." His voice was soft as he went to grab your hand, but you pulled away.

"You said that last time." Your tears were beyond your control as you wiped at them in vain, "You said that mere days before you told your mom that we were going to have kids and you told me your mom took the news well." You sniffled, "You lied to me, I can't believe that you lied to me and let me just walk around like a fool believing you, again!"

He was stunned silent again. You were right. He had lost his back bone under the strict gaze of his parents and folded under pressure. He betrayed you, and all he could do was hope for your forgiveness.

You shook your head as he remained mute, "I need some time." You went to walk past him and to the door but he engulfed you in a hug, "Namjoon!" You struggled weakly to pull him from you but froze when you heard a sniffle.

"Please, don't go." He begged as he held you close, "I can't lose you again, I'm so sorry, please."

You fought sobs from escaping your mouth, "You lied to me, and your mom-"

"I'll kill her if you want me to." He spoke and your blood ran cold at his tone. He was serious, "My mom and my dad, I'll tell them we're not having children and if they can't handle that, they can leave us alone or die."

Your eyes were wide, tears frozen in time. Namjoon loved his parents. He was always a kid intent on surpassing their expectations, and he had made that clear to you when you started dating in highschool. You were his only sign of rebellion. He was intended to marry a woman from an affluent family, but he met you. You had figured that would be where his rebellion ended, but here he was, handing his parent's hearts in your hands and awaiting orders.

"Joonie, y-you can't mean-" You sputtered to reason but he only held you tighter.

"Or even if you just want me to kill them, I will, with my own hands of course, nobody else can know." His remained headstrong in his resolve, stroking your hair, "I don't care what I have to do to keep you with me." He kissed the top of your head, "You are the only person, the only thing on this Earth that matters to me I cannot live without you."

A sick, and extremely twisted part of you wanted to call your mother-in-law and say, "Hah!" You wanted to rub it in her face that her son, in spite of everything, chose you. Her precious boy has been yours for years now. However, your sanity slipped through the cracks as you shook your head again.

"You love your parents." You shook your head as you cried into his chest, "And if you felt that way, why would you lie to me?"

He sniffled, "I was weakened, not 100% sure you would truly accept me with open arms and I panicked when they asked." He sighed, "I know it's pathetic and I know I seemed like I knew we would make it, but I didn't know that. They never brought it up after that so I naively thought they would forget and when they asked me again, I would tell them the truth and-"

"You're so stupid." You cried harder into his chest and felt him nod, "If you're scared to face your parents, tell me, and we'll do it together." You were surely ruining his dress shirt, but he stroked your hair soothingly, "Your mom has been calling me a shitty wife for years and after today, she must truly believe it, and I-I should take some time-" Namjoon held you, arms sliding down your body as he got down to his needs and you felt your heart drop, and you gasped, "Stop, don't-"

You tried to help him up but he grabbed your wrists as he looked up at you with tear stained cheeks and eyes as wet as yours, shaking his head at your frantic protests as he kissed your hands and your wedding ring tenderly, "I can't lose you again." His voice was weighty with sorrow at the thought of you being away from him, "You matter more to me than my duty as a successor does, than my parents do, even more than this whole fucking business." He rubbed his cheek against your hand in desperation as you stood frozen from the shock of Namjoon begging on his knees with the utmost humility. The most powerful man in the city, undoubtedly the country as well, was on his knees crying and begging you to stay, "If killing my parents is what I have to do to prove it, I will. Name how you want it done, when you want it done, and I'll do it." He was dead serious and he could tell you knew it as tears spilled onto your cheeks even more, "You're a better wife than I deserve, and all I can ever hope is to be even a fraction of the husband you deserve, and I'm sorry I've been missing the mark." This made your face twist in pain, regret. Namjoon, up until today, had been nothing short of perfect, and even now he was making up for it, "Almost losing you nearly killed me, and-and I get that sometimes people need time to calm down but I would just prefer you beat the shit out of me instead-"

"I didn't mean that either!" You cried out as you sunk down to your knees to hug the sobbing man before you, "You aren't a sorry excuse for a husband, you're just a goddamn idiot, and I didn't want time I just didn'twant to see your stupid face because I was so angry." You laughed as he did for a moment, "Above all else, you're an amazing husband. I love you, always have, I just hate when you lie-" Your voice in his ear was like heaven as he felt a weight lift of his shoulders.

He grabbed your legs to wrap around his waist before you could properly settle onto your knees. He held you close and he soothed your cries, "I haven't lied to you since, I can promise you that." He sighed and you scoffed, "You don't have to believe me. I'm just asking you to stay with me so I can prove it over time."

"I'm...I'm not leaving you." You sighed into his neck before he pulled you back to trap your lips between his as he kissed your with a vigorous passion. When you returned his kiss with an equal amount of desperation, he began to stand with you in his arms before promptly laying you on the couch, never detaching his mouth from yours the whole time.

You settled into the velvet cushions as he ground himself into your sex, making you gasp, "I love you, my darling." He murmured into your mouth while one of his hands slid your dress up and your panties to the side before brushing his fingers across your pussy and groaning at your wetness, "Oh fuck, you're so wet, baby." His mouth went to your ear as you moaned, threading your fingers into his hair, "Was it me promising to kill for you or me getting onto my knees that did it, hm?" He rubbed slow circles over your clit and you gasped, "You get off on me spilling blood for you? You get wet by me demeaning myself to keep you right here, where you belong?"

"Yes, daddy, I do- fuck!" You clutched his hair harder as his finger slipped in and your hips wiggled impatienly, "Just fuck me, I don't care about being stretched, fuck me."

Too desperate to even hesitate, Namjoon undid his belt, ripping it from his trousers as he secured your wrists within the leather garment, as he had done many times before. He undid your belt as he pushed your arms up and his pants down with his boxers. He slid into you with a deep groan that you matched with a wanton moan. He fucked himself into you feverishly, wasting no time in chasing your high as his nimble finger went down to stimulate your clit, "I love you so fucking much, y/n." He groaned as he felt you tighten, "I don't care who I have to kill to prove it, I'll even let you watch the light drain from their fucking eyes if it means you'll stay with me."

You moaned out as he whispered gruesome threats to the outside world intermingling with sweet nothings as he held the belt around your wrists,using it as leverage to fuck you harder. If you were sane, you would not be getting closer and closer to orgasm as he cursed the rest of the world into painful deaths just to have you as his wife, but here you were, clenching around him and opening your legs further so he can go deeper, "Shit, I'm gonna cum!" You cried out, arms going over Namjoon's head so you could pull him down to you by the neck and kiss his lips messily.

His hand went from your clit as he wrapped his arm around you to hoist you up and slam himself into you further, "That's right baby, cum for daddy and I'll give you my cum." He cooed in spite of the strain to keep himself from busting you before you get your release. His words only threw you over the edge as you climaxed, hurdling him into his own. He fucked his cum into you like always and you moaned lightly until he was done.

He held himself inside of you as you both gained your breath again, exchanging occasional kisses, "You don't have to kill them, you know." You spoke finally "Although, I won't be so cordial with their bullshit anymore."

He nodded, "I'm by your side, Junebug, forever and always." You smiled before kissing him.

"And I, you." You hummed blissfully.

"We have everything we need between just the two of us, I promise." He smiled against your kiss while you nodded, "You'll be the only one calling me daddy for the rest of out lives- hey!" You smack his chest lightly as you both laughed blissfully, letting the seriously twisted shit that just transpired be a simple part of the past.

"Your mom is a bitch." You giggled tiredly as he chuckled.

"Don't worry about being nice to her if you don't want to, I have my priorities straight." He gave you another kiss that you returned with glee.

As he was cleaning you up, your hazy mind allowed you to feel smug at the fact that you just saved your shitty in-laws from certain death. You were their ticket to life. You were their precious successor's priority. You were his only true love.

Namjoon watched with nothing but love as he tucked your sleeping form into bed. Thinking on it now, he doesn't know if he could even stand the idea of you loving a child as much as you loved him. He enjoyed his monopoly over your affection, and a child would only throw a wrench in that for him. Taehyung liked kids, Jungkook seemed like a family man, maybe even Hoseok if that new girl he's saying is as serious for him as he says. All it took was one kid to carry on the business, so you didn't need to worry your pretty little head about it.

All you had to worry about was staying by his side and all he had to worry about was being a good enough husband to keep you there. He kissed your forehead as he held you closer to him, texting his mom the next time she disrespects you or his marriage, there would be consequences.

You were the only person he needed. He would do anything to make you understand that.

The ticking of the clock was nowhere to be heard as you laid in Namjoon's arms. You snuggled into him as you caught sight of the thinly veiled threat he sent to his own mother on account of your feelings. He was yours just as much yours were his and the victory of it all had never tasted so sweet. His heartbeat was all you could hear, steady, loving, and to the beat of the drum you commanded.

You both wouldn't have it any other way.

Masterlist

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#yandere au #yandere bts au #yandere namjoon #yandere bts #spft yandere bts #soft yandere namjoon #bts mafia au #namjoon smut #kim namjoon #namjoon scenario #namjoon imagine #namjoon drabble #bts smut #yandere bts smut #namjoon mafia au

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