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yanderenightmare · 6 months

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Nasty alpha wolf-boy Shiggy buying virgin bunny reader at a shady auction, taking her home and breeding her silly in all her tight bunny holes<3

BNHA ! THIRST

Shigaraki Tomura x darling

WC: 2.5k

TW: NSFW, captive darling, light bondage, oral giving/receiving, multiple orgasms and overstimulation, hybrid au

Shigaraki doesn’t get along with most other organizations aside from his own, but he could hold a certain respect for this establishment. He felt appreciated here – a valued customer – one with a hungry appetite the vendor saved only the very best herbivores for.

Herbivores like you.

“She was easy to tame- submissive like she was made for it!” The Master said. “A bit too submissive for my taste- but you know what they say about bunnies- cute like a button and just as dumb!”

Your thighs rubbed themselves where you stood in the dark of your blindfold. Bleating and cowering in the chastity belt they’d fixed tight around your lower body – having you sheathed on two thick cocks stretching out both virgin holes – making you drippy – vibrating inside you with purrs tickling your core in thrums he could hear from ten meters away.

“Stuff her in the trunk and take her home if you want- she’s so soft around the edges and pumped with hormones she won’t mind the bumpy road. You could take her right here on the concrete, and all she’d do is just moan!”

He could smell it in the air – how heated you were. Sopping like a braindead whore – he bet you’d been stuck in that chastity belt for hours, as sweaty and trembling as you were. Unstable were you stood in pink pumps soaked full of the slick running down your thighs – only managing to stand thanks to the big bodyguard behind you. He was a beastly fucker, squeezing one of your tits tight in a big bear paw while fisting your leash like a noose in the other, pulling the thick black collar kept snug on your throat only to feel your plush ass rub against his crotch.

The way your arms were cruelly bent behind your back was of no help to your balance either, making your perky tits strut forward. Stiff nipples begging for a suck or a twist or a slap – sculpted a bit by an additional harness shaped like a bra with no filling – just thin black leather lines extenuating that on display.

“My hunters swear she’s a pure little thing, so normally I would demand you pay extra-”

Two black heart-shaped eyepatches had you blindfolded but were kept lenient enough to allow tears to soak through, layered damp on your cheeks and giving a pretty plump bloat to your lips – sucking on the pink ballgag stuffed in your mouth, fastened tight around your head – making all your noises come out wet and even more feeble.

“But she’s yours free of charge if the league handles some business for me~”

Your lop ears drooped sadly down your cheeks, framing your cute face like a picture where your little nose kept wrinkling in terribly adorable sniffles – squealing on what he could tell was another ride over the edge.

“Deal.” He barked shortly, a growl in his throat.

The Master grinned. “Always a pleasure doing business with you, Shigaraki.” Tossing him the keys to the lock on your cunt before snapping his fingers, gesturing for the bodyguard to do the same with the leash – pushing you in a wobbling stumble over to your new owner.

And then he really felt you tremble – soft yet stiff, bracing yourself against him – the smell of utter terror and arousal so thick he found himself drooling just at a single close whiff – all the hair on his tail spiked on strict end as a hunger growled low in his gut.

He felt his pants grow taut and gave a hiss – shoving you on your stomach in a sprawl onto the backseat. Throwing your legs inside before slamming the door shut – putting his fingers to his lips – your slick wet on them, glossy and sweet in his nose like a perfume as he licked them clean while getting in the car.

“Drive.” He muttered in another curt growl, signaling the man to his side to turn the keys as he pawed the straining tent bumping his boxers with yet another hiss.

Huffing, he closed his eyes, listening to you nom on your gag with wet cries and moans – his chest tight and brows furrowed – cursing having said yes to clean up another organization’s mess, and even more frustrated with your scent hanging heavy in the air, making everything spin for him – until finally reaching the base.

“Get out, Binky- welcome to your new home.”

He tugged your collar again soon after the car stopped, and out you shuffled – sweaty and shivering on legs that could barely hold their own weight – supported by the hand he had raked in your hair, pulling and dragging your body out into the cold.

Letting go once you were out of the backseat, he started fisting the leash instead, yanking you forward with heels clicking in no steady rhythm – wonky on the ground where you struggled to keep up with him. Slick between your thighs, rubbing together as you walked.

You were still blindfolded – floppy ears shifty at the sounds of doors opening and slamming shut, along with the threatening cheers of the crowd of villains drinking in the rooms the two of you passed. It’s as though he can hear you praying, hoping that he’s not planning on sharing you with the rest of the fray the way you flinch at the whistles and filthy comments being thrown your way.

You sped up until your tits bumped into his back – walking close with your head bowed to shield yourself.

Splitting a grin, he chuckled out a low snort. He hadn’t thought you’d be so silly to seek his comfort. But dumb as it was, his cock seemed to find it unexpectedly pleasant.

Reaching his room, he fished for his key – hands unsteady, tongue gracing his fangs as he unlocked it before stepping inside. Hauling you behind him into the musty space where he at once pounced on you like a predator who’d finally lost all patience.

Paws with claws gabbed your tit with a force that made you stumble – almost fall if he hadn’t tugged you back by your leash. His tongue ran wet over the sweet drool dripping down your neck and chin – his canines close to your neck, making you shiver and bleat for him while his hand dropped down to cup your sex.

Stopping short at the thick feel of latex beneath his fingertips, he growled and shoved you in a toppling wobble until your back hit the soft embrace of the bed behind you. You met it with a bounce and a yelp smothered in your gag – and he followed quickly, crawling on top of you with the key in hand. Carefully caressing the lock on your belt – thinking it would be a shame to destroy it when he could make use of it later. He would need to keep you protected if the way everyone eyed you was any indication. After all, he couldn't expect a base crawling with only carnivores to resist the scent of a herbivore as sweet as you.

He turned the key in the hole and pulled the cruel construction down your thighs, and you gave a whine, hips bucking at the release, quaking at the empty feeling while he eyed the lewd mixture of slick clinging in pretty bridges between the two closing holes and the two glossy rubber cocks still wet and warm with your heat.

“You make quite a slutty mess for a virgin.” He teased, with two of his coarse fingers dragging up your slick clit – gleeful eyes watching you squirm while releasing a strangled sound caught between a moan and a scream – riddled with overstimulation to the point you were cumming in spasms from only the single little touch.

He only chuckled at the sight. Leaving you to pant and quake beneath him – with shakey breaths anticipating the painful pleasure of his touch once again.

“Sensitive, scared, horny- tortured by your own fickle hormones and instincts- I know what you want…” He continued, now with the words leaving hot puffs against the slick skin on your thighs. “You want this teensy little rabbit hole destroyed by the big bad wolf….”

Your whimpers were like a symphony – sweet and softly tuned to strum every string in his gut – purring and stirring something sticky and heavy and starving inside of him.

“Look at this pussy….” He groaned with a click of his tongue – his eyes set on the wet puffy little thing between your legs. “So pretty- I could bite it.”

Your back took an arch, jumping from the bed once his hot mouth hit your mound – letting out another uncontrolled moan – heart pounding so loud and savagely in your chest he could feel it pulse on his tongue inside you as he lapped at you like a parched mutt.

His claws dug with greed, plunged deep into the cake of your thighs, locking you around his jaw where he mouthed at your core with eyes rolling back. Every fiber went on a rampage within him, zipping along his limbs and gathering in his gut like one tight-clenched aching fist.

“Mh-fuck-” He took a breath, mouth gaping and dripping with spit and slick before moving upward, sucking kisses into the soft skin of your tummy and soon locking his lips around your nipple – with one hand working your free titty, the other fucked your hole with horny curiosity, delving in the slick with twists and curls and scissoring.

You whined under his touches, quaking on all counts – listening to your hole squelch while your oh-so-sensitive insides clenched down hard from the warm knot coiling in your lower belly, coming so close to that all-over-feeling yet again – shaking your head in fear of it.

“Piss yourself if it helps- I don’t mind-” He growled out low in a whisper, his fangs against your throat now, grazing playfully with rugged breaths hot against your flushed skin. “I won’t stop until I’ve broken in each hole-”

Eyes big and swiveled with tears rippling down your cheeks in rushed rivulets, all the while your pussy made out with his fingers – feeling the fat digits test the flex of your gummy walls – slippery with slick and happily fluttering from his touches.

You soon caved for the umpteenth time – whole body strangling to suppress the sensation while unsure how much more you could take before going numb.

“Tch- there you go~ good bunny~” He praised in mockery, snickering at your panting – his breath hot on your skin where he moved to hover above your gagged lips – undoing the straps to free your mouth.

“Ah please, m-master- please- no more-” You immediately begged, mouth wet with drool.

“Mh- you’ve got manners…” He moaned, keeping his fingers in your cunt while holding you by the ear in the other hand, gripping it tight and rubbing the thin softness like a lucky charm. Tugging himself out of his pants, messy with pre, he immediately steered the fatness to your mouth. “Open up~”

You took it with a small whine, feeling it push onto your tongue and further in until it hit the back of your throat in a kiss. He gave a groan, feeling your bloated lips wrap around the shaft as you glucked on his length in soft mewls – eyes panning from the view to watch your little titties bounce at the movement, doing small jumps for him as he rammed your sweet face.

He removed your eyepatches – wanting to see your pretty eyes glossy and big for him as you sucked his cock.

The look on your face made his gut rumble – so sweet-looking with your cinched brows and button-nose – eyeing him with cute anxiety, no doubt taking in the scary sight of his red eyes and his pale skin littered with scars.

You coughed cutely when he withdrew, and he bent over to kiss you again, spit stringing between your tongues as his fingers went back to your clitty – rubbing crass circles into it that had you squealing into his mouth.

“Please, master-” You cried, wringing your thighs shut tight around his hand – tears springing from the pity puddles of your eyes as you looked at him with such plead it made his gut roar.

He could only offer a gleeful giggle, spreading your thighs by pulling you snugly around his waist – his cock jumping eagerly above your navel as he bore over you – his breath hot on your face. “Don’t worry, baby bunny, I’ll stuff you up good. Breed you full of a warm creampie in your tight little cunt.” He cooed, fangs sharp and glistening – his paw flat on your belly, rubbing the flesh with want. “Right here~ warm and thick in your little womb~”

You shuddered at the threat, then whined an open-mouthed moan as he sleaved himself inside you. Feeling his every fat vein rub along your walls until his plush head nudged tight against your cervix – making you mewl with an arch in your back, clenching hard around the size of him. Shaking from the toll of it.

He groaned, starting to pound you already – fast and deep, just like a hound rutting. “I’m gonna give you my knot, Bunbun-” He drooled, sucking your cheek with tongue and teeth – red eyes set on your plump and pouty lips – gaping open and begging for more while he continued raving. “Gonna knot you up so tight- make this virgin pussy tremble for me-”

You could only pant, getting run through at such a pace your next orgasm was fucked right out of you. Sweat pilled on your forehead and nose, thighs trembling as you came on his thickness in hot, heaving moans. Throttling his cock for cum – which he soon spilled deep inside you just like he promised – painting your insides with it with balls clenching up, resting snugly against the slick that spilled out.

He was messy when he pulled out again. Glossy and still raging fat as he rolled you over on your stomach – pulling your ass up by your hips while you remained breathless with exhaustion, smudged against the pillowy sheets beneath you.

He laid his meat between your asscheeks, eyes lazily looking over your dewy face and how pretty you looked fucked out on his bed.

“This bunny-hole’s never felt cock either, huh?” He said, voice breathy but eager still – planting his tip at the opening of the taut little entrance before beginning to push.

You moaned out again but could only ball your fists for purchase, still kept in a lock behind your back – tightening them until your knuckles whitened while he crammed himself inside you one stout inch at a time.

“Mmh- fuck, so tight~ it’s gonna feel so fuckin’ good hugging me nice and snug~” He almost whined, getting swallowed down until his pelvis met your ass and the ball of fluff found there – doing a little dance just for him. “Fuck- look at you, little cottontail~” He groaned, leaving himself sunk down to the hilt inside you for a moment of appreciation before beginning to drag out to pound your stomach into a nice mess. “So perfect, I outta take a picture~”

tip-jar: Kofi

#yandere shigaraki #yandere my hero academia #yandere boku no hero academia #yandere shigaraki tomura #yandere shiggy #yandere shigaraki x reader #yandere mha #yandere bnha #shigaraki smut #shigaraki thirst #yandere tomura shigaraki #yandere tomura #tomura smut #tomura shigaraki x reader #shigaraki fanfiction #shigaraki x y/n #shigaraki imagine #shigaraki x you #tomura x you

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jonathansthickthighs · 20 days

Text

Yandere Fushiguro Toji x Reader: Part Three

Description: You have a one night stand with Toji and now he won’t leave you alone.

Part 1 here

Part 2 here

Part 4 here

Trigger Warnings: nsfw, yandere, obsessive behavior, female reader, AFAB reader, toxic behavior, violence, threats, jealousy, possessive behavior, desperate toji, smut, unprotected sex, daddy kink, alternative universe (no curses), age gap (reader is in her early 20’s, toji is in his mid 30’s), soft toji, toji has feelings

A/N: enjoy 😈

Not edited!

Toji watched the waiter closely from your table, alternating his gaze between the waiter and your conversation. Throughout your time there, he had been glaring daggers at the hapless waiter, whose brazen stares and pathetic attempts at flirting has tested Toji’s patience to its limits. The final straw came when the waiter’s gaze lingered on your chest shamelessly, a blatant disregard for respect that nearly shattered what was left of Toji’s composure. The self control he was practicing right now was otherworldly.

As the waiter slipped away down the bathroom hall to what Toji presumed was a back exit, he saw the perfect opportunity and a surge of adrenaline overtook him. Seizing the opportunity to confront the source of his frustration away from prying eyes, he excuse himself to the restroom, concealing his true intentions with an attempt of a sweet smile thrown your way.

Toji stepped outside. A curl of smoke wafted lazily into the night air, revealing the figure of the waiter with his back turned. With swift determination, Toji wasted no time, seizing the unsuspecting waiter by the nape of his neck before slamming him against the grimy wall, making him almost swallow his cigarette.

“What the hell, man?!” The waiter spluttered, his protests muffled by Toji’s relentless iron grip.

“You should be thankful I’m only here to warn ya,” Toji growled menacingly. “Under different circumstances, I would’ve ripped your fucking eyes out, you twink.” Toji spat out, his words coming out like venom.

“I haven’t done anything to you! Let go of me, old man!” The waiter struggled, his efforts futile against Toji’s overpowering strength. He could never scape from a man like Toji. He towered over him and he was twice his size in muscle. Toji released his hold on his neck, only to grab him by the collar, lifting him up until their eyes met.

“You’ve been ogling at my girl like a dirty pervert from the moment we stepped into this restaurant. You better stay the fuck away from us or you’re gonna force me to do what I originally had planned for ya.” Toji snarled, his voice laced with contained fury. He knew this boy had nothing on him, he could never reach his level. He had no reason to be jealous of a wimp like him, he knew you would never give a boy like him a second glance. Yet he can’t help the anger that courses through his veins when all these men look at your beauty that should be preserved for his eyes only. He just wanted to hide you away, away from all the men that weren’t worthy of being around your perfect self. You were only his.

The waiter swallowed and Toji decided to scare him a bit more by switching from the collar of his shirt to grabbing him by his neck with one hand, keeping him suspended in the air. The waiter gasped for air and his eyes widened in horror when he saw Toji pull a knife out. He traced the blade dangerously close to the waiters eye.

“Assign another waiter for us, a respectful one, at that.” Toji commanded. “And go tell your boss you quit, I don’t wanna see your face around here ever again. If I ever see your pathetic little face again, you’ll regret it.”

The terrified waiter managed to nod before Toji released his grip, allowing the trembling waiter to fall to the ground. Toji stared down at him noticing the wet spot on his pants, he had urinated himself from the terror he had caused him. Toji couldn’t help the mocking laugh that left his lips before turning away, walking towards the door.

“You’re fucking disgusting. Oh, and don’t expect a tip from us.” He joked before slamming the door closed, leaving behind and shattered remnant of a man, cowering in the wake of his wrath.

Toji returned to your table, greeted by the warmth of your smile. “Oh hey, you’re back. Everything okay? You took a little long in the bathroom.” You remarked, concern laced in your tone.

Toji, flattered by your concern, chuckled lightly. “All good, I think the appetizer the waiter brought gave me a little trouble.”

You giggled in response, raising your glass to take a sip of your drink. “Yeah, it tasted a little bit funny.” You agreed, your laughter like music to his ears.

Before Toji could utter another word, a new waiter approached your table. “How are you guys this evening? I’ll be replacing your previous waiter; he had a family emergency so he sadly couldn’t continue to service you.”

Toji interjected with feigned concern, “Damn, what a shame, he was such a nice fella. Hope everything turns out fine with his family.” He remarked, his gaze briefly flickering to yours seeing you nod in agreement, a pouty look on your face. Toji couldn’t help but get distracted by your soft looking lips. He was anticipating eagerly the prospect of being alone with you later.

“Of course, thank you for your concern,” the waiter said, visibly surprised by Toji’s unexpected display of empathy. “So, what would you like to order for your main course?” He continued, avoiding any hint of impropriety. Toji watched the waiter intently as he took the order, his hawk-like gaze ensuring that no inappropriate glances were thrown your way. Satisfied with the waiter professionalism, Toji couldn’t help but smirk, his focus returning to the delightful prospect of spending the evening in your company.

The waiter departed leaving the two of you alone once more, you seized the opportunity to delve more into Toji’s life. “So, Toji, I’ve already told you what I do for work, but you’ve yet to enlighten me about your job.” You inquired, curiosity filling your tone.

Shit.

Toji cursed internally, grappling for an answer that would veil the violent reality of his occupation. He had been an assassin for twenty five years now, his training starting in his early years of life. His childhood had been marred by exploitation at the hands of his clan, molding him to the monster he is today. How was he supposed to convey the truth to someone as pure as you? Would you recoil in horror once you found out? Was he supposed to hide this from you indefinitely? He thought perhaps he could tone down what he truly did and slowly ease your way into understanding his uncommon job.

With a nervous chuckle he attempted to give you a PG description of his job. “Well, you see, doll, my line of work is not something you see everyday. I suppose you could say what I do is… locating individuals for certain parties. I get hired to hunt down people that have done very very bad things—“ he began tentatively.

You chime in, before he could elaborate further. “So you’re a detective!”

Toji couldn’t help but smile at your innocence. “Uh— not quite, doll. I don’t work for the police work or anything in the realm of law. I operate independently. Think of me as a freelancer. People hear word of me from other people and they hire me. Confidentially.”

“Ooh, you’re like— like a bounty hunter.” You mused.

“You’re pretty much spot on, sweetheart.” Toji affirmed, chuckling at your insight. Indeed was your intuition astute; he did procure, the harder part was explaining how.

“How do you manage it? You don’t kill them do you?” You quipped, a playful glimmer in your eyes. Toji felt a bead of sweat form on his brow at the inquiry. He didn’t want to deceive you, but he also needed to protect you from his world.

“Goodness, no! I just exercise the use of force. If they’re a tough one to get, I might give them a little beating, but nothing too serious.” Toji attempted to answer smoothly. He wasn’t entirely lying, he didn’t murder every single one of his bounties. Most of them, yes, but not the entirety of them.

“Wow, I’ve never met anyone like you before! I have to admit, your job sounds quite thrilling.” You exclaimed with genuine excitement as his heart leaped with joy. I’ve never met anyone like you before. He knew you were referring to his job, but his delusional mind was making him believe you were talking about him. He also felt joy watching you be so excited over something as little as him explaining his job. He relished the fleeting moment of your admiration, knowing the truth would dispel such feelings.

“It does sounds super dangerous, Toji. Have you ever been hurt?” Gods, he loved the way you said his name.

“Oh, undoubtedly, it is a dangerous field, but I’m more than capable of handling myself. I’m a strong guy.” Toji assured with a charismatic wink, basking in the shy smile that graced your lips.

“You really are.” You agreed, slowly dragging your eyes through his big, well built arms. For some reason that made Toji’s heart rate speed up. Your eyes were simply enthralling, seductive in a way that would make any man fall on his knees, weakened by the intensity of your gaze. It was causing his dick to awaken. He could feel a tent growing in his pants, his dick feeling restrained by the fabric. That familiar warm feeling in his lower stomach that only you had ever caused him was making itself present. Knowing that you liked his physique made him unbelievably horny. If you didn’t restrain yourself from looking at him that way soon, he was going to spread you on the table and slide his cock into your tight little cunt in front of everyone in this restaurant.

Those thoughts dissipated once he saw your countenance switch. “If you don’t mind me asking. Is your job the reason you got that scar on your lip?” You inquired, your tone tinged with curiosity and concern.

Toji’s smiled faltered momentarily, but he quickly tried to hide his discomfort. “No, sweetheart. I got it when I was a kid.” He watched your face fall, aware you were probably thinking about all the bad things that could’ve possibly happened to him. He despised seeing you saddened by his past and quite frankly his childhood was not something he held close to his heart or something he enjoyed talking about. He would rather keep that part of his life hidden in the back his thoughts.

“What can I say, I was a wild child. Always in trouble.” Toji chuckled, attempting to salvage the mood. You smiled at him, but it wasn’t your normal smile. He knew you could tell there was something wrong within him, and he knew you were trying your hardest to not push about it any further. He acknowledged and appreciated your respect for his boundaries.

“If it’s worth anything, I like your scar. I think it gives you character.” You winked, reaching over the table to rest your hand atop of his. Gods, was he blushing? Never in his life had a woman made him blush this way.

“You’re sweet, doll. I appreciate it.” He responded, offering you a sincere smile. He couldn’t understand how you could possibly evoke such a good, warm feeling in him. You were going to become his wife no matter what.

The waiter returned with your order and you and Toji ate in comfortable silence, stealing glances of one another occasionally. It was hard to believe for you, but you actually found yourself enjoying your time with Toji. He wasn’t as off-putting as you initially thought. Perhaps his insistence was due to his loneliness, most men his age were settled down with families. Yet, that also made you ponder, maybe he was single at his age for a reason. Doubts swirled your mind about him and yourself. You had insisted on staying single for a while, but here you were, finding yourself drawn to him. You had decided to only go out with him once, but you really desired to keep seeing him. There was something about him that pulled you to him, yet there was also a voice of caution that told you to stay away. It felt impossible to reconcile these conflicting feelings. You sensed there was something wrong with him, something that refused his soul to find peace. Perhaps it was your savior complex, but you felt a strong urge to help him, to fix him.

Those thoughts dissipated once you were back at his place.

Not even a second after Toji slammed the door closed, he was grabbing you by the waist crashing his lips against yours and you responded back immediately by opening your mouth giving him access to your tongue. He wasted no time invading your wet cavern, making you melt into his embrace. His lips felt soft, despite the scar on his lips. You liked it.

“Fuck, I missed those sweet lips, baby.” Toji pulled away growling into your lips, sliding his big hands down to your ass, giving it a firm squeeze. You moaned in response before delighting him with another passionate kiss from you. “I’ve thought about your pretty body, every single day since you gave yourself to me that night. Been thinkin’ about you, the way you took me, the way you creamed all over my dick. You have no damn clue how many times I had to jerk off thinking about you. I’ve been going insane without your pussy, baby doll.” Toji confessed between kisses, his breath getting heavier, sending electric shocks all over your body. The image of him touching himself clouding your mind with an unquenchable desire for him.

Toji lifted you up into his arms, making his way to his bedroom kicking the door open. He placed you gently on his bed, treating you like the delicate flower he considered you to be. He climbed on top of you, continuing the make out session from earlier. You started grinding your hips against his bulge, groaning at the the restrain his pants had on his dick. Your dress had rilled up, exposing your underwear to him.

Toji chuckled in amusement seeing your white panties with red hearts on them. “Those are cute, sweetheart.” He retorted playfully as he started messing with the waistband teasingly.

“Oh shut it. This wasn’t in my plans today.” You responded feign being offended, you traitorous smile betraying you. Toji laughed at your cuteness before he started leaving open mouthed kisses all over your delicate neck. You attempted to rub your thighs together as you felt your panties dampening, the copious amount of fluids making the crotch of your panties translucent. Toji grabbed your thighs firmly, forcing them to stay spread for him.

Toji pulled away from you, admiring your flushed form, letting out a hiss at how unbelievably delicious you looked to him. “You’re fucking gorgeous.” He uttered, rubbing you soft thighs as he turned his gaze to your cunt, groaning at how astonishingly wet you were. “I need to taste this pretty pussy.”

He wasted no time in ripping your underwear off, lowering himself to be within sight of the object of his desires, glistening in the arousal he provoked in you. He quickly attached his mouth to your throbbing clit, attacking it with his tongue vigorously. Toji had you moaning and squirming under him like a bitch in heat. The feeling of his skilled tongue on your clit was taking you to a perfect world where only you and him existed. You felt him reaching out to play with your breasts, your tender nipples begging for the attention. The combination of being eaten out and breast play were heavenly, driving you to begin pushing your hips against his face.

Your eyelids fluttered open to find Toji’s deep, green, gaze already fixed upon you, looking at you through his dark lashes. It had to be the hottest sight you’ve ever seen. His gaze was filled with unbearable lust, causing you to become wetter by the second, as pool of your juices forming under you. He continued quenching his thirst with your pussy as he started slowly burring a finger into your tight heat, growling against your pussy at the feeling of your walls engulfing his large finger. Excitement bubbled within him as he thought about that tightness wrapping around his pulsing, hard cock.

He carefully started adding another digit, speeding up his pace enough to make you squirm in delightful pleasure. Your wanton moans making him itch with anticipation to hear more.

“You taste so fuckin’ good, sweetheart. I can’t wait for you to make my face drip in your sweet juices. I need you to come for me. Why don’t you give daddy what he wants?” Toji almost whimpered into your pulsing clit. He could tell you were getting close, that’s why he started lapping at your pussy like it was the most exquisite plate to ever exist.

“P-please make me come, daddy. I need you.” You moaned, eyes never leaving his, the intensity of his gaze making you almost break the eye contact.

“I want you to come right now, baby. Give it to me!” He responded, his groans sending pleasurable vibrations through your clit.

“Oh fuck, d-daddy! I’m c-coming!” You announced, moaning loudly as he continued ravishing your pussy with his mouth, thick fingers plunging in and out of you. He was driving you over the edge, squeezing your tits, teasing your sensitive nipples. It was too much, Toji had your legs quivering. You came with a scream, clenching around his digits, a tide of your juices squirting all over his face. You gasped at the feeling. Before you met Toji you had never squirted in your life and yet every time you had intercourse with this man you barely knew, he always managed to make you reach your high in such way in a matter of a few minutes.

Toji pulled himself up from your cunt, licking his lips savoring your taste. “So fucking good, sweetheart.” He complimented, wiping from his chin the remainder of your juices, making you shiver at the sight. He made you reach your high so hard you could barely move, but you wanted to return the favor.

You forced yourself up meeting him face to face, exchanging fervent kisses, tasting yourself in the process. You rose from the bed onto your feet, placing your hands on his strong shoulders leading him to the bed. “Lay down for me, daddy. Let me return the favor.” You offered, biting your lip seductively. Toji followed your orders without complaints. “Why don’t we take off your shirt? It’s so hot in here.” You suggested playfully as you climb on top of him, helping him rid of it. This man was built by the gods themselves, his body turned you on like no other. You ran your hands softly through his abdominals, making Toji visibly shudder. You kept going until you reached his pants’ waistband.

“What are you planning to do to me, sweetheart?” Toji teased with a smirk, as he placed his hands behinds his head, making himself comfortable. You only responded by climbing off him, pulling down his pants along with his underwear without hesitation, letting his big, hard member out of the restricted space. You gasped seeing how hard he was and the amount of precum that was oozing from the tip. Toji groaned with satisfaction at the feeling of being liberated.

You wasted no time, lowering yourself to your knees and grabbing the base of his pulsing cock. Toji hissed, his body responsive to your gentle caresses. You began by pressing a teasing kiss to the head of his dick, an angry red color coating it. You then proceeded to lick from the base of the shaft to the tip and in that moment, you took him unto your moist mouth. You started sucking him off zealously, forcing strained moans to escape his throat.

“S-shit, baby. Sucking daddy’s dick so good. J-just like that.” He shut his eyes, basking in the unbelievable bliss you were bringing him. He gasped out when he felt you take him deeper into your mouth until he hit the back of your throat; he couldn’t stop himself from thrusting his hips into you. He then grabbed the back of your head gently to force you to remain there as he continued to thrust upwards into your mouth, his jaw hanging open in pleasure.

“Oh, that’s a good slut. Letting me fuck your pretty face.” Toji growled as he kept going, somewhat bewildered at the fact that you would were allowing him to do this to you. Nevertheless, he wasn’t one for protesting when you were giving him the best head he had ever received.

He let go you as you continued going down on him as if your life depended on it. You wanted him to come in your mouth, but your intentions lay elsewhere. You released his cock from your mouth with a wet pop, evoking a groan from Toji. You probably looked disheveled. Toji, on the other hand, didn’t agree with your line of thought. He found this to be the sexiest you’ve ever looked. A rosy hue graced your cheeks, accompanied by trails of tears running down your cheeks, your lips swollen and red, drool running down your chin. He wasn’t aware he could get more aroused than he already was.

“Please keep going, sweetheart.” Toji pleaded and you shook your head, making him growl in frustration. “Why not?!” He whined, his tone displaying evident discontent.

You giggled at his childishness. “I have something else for you.” You bit your lips, undoing your dress, exposing your nudity to him. Toji runs his tongue over his lips, eyes darkening at the sight of your wonderful body. You proceeded to grab your supple breasts, wrapping them around his cock, causing Toji’s eyes to widen. Tenaciously, you embarked on a mission to make him come on your breasts. You initiated by slowly massaging your breasts up and down his cock, making sure to squeeze them tightly around him. Toji started meeting your thrusts enthusiastically, his hips moving erratically, his hand atop of yours.

“Tell me how it feels, daddy? You like fucking my tits, don’t you?” You moaned as you continued working your tits on his twitching cock. Keenly aware that he would reach his peak imminently, you increased your speed.

“S-so much, b-baby. You’re gonna make me c-come so much. You’re gonna let me come on your perfect tits, baby?” Toji announced, his thrusts becoming uncoordinated. This was something he never expected from you, but he was incredibly appreciative of it. The sight of your breasts enveloping his cock so snug between them erased nearly every thought in his mind.

“Come all over my tits, daddy!” With that he stilled as he released a typhoon of semen on your chest, slurring out your name lethargically. Toji remained motionless, his chest rising and falling as he labored to regain his breath.

“That was so fucking hot.” Toji stated as he recovered his breath, his gaze becoming lustful as he contemplated the sight of you gathering his cum from your chest with your fingers, guiding it to your lips. Savoring his taste for the first time.

“You taste delicious. Why don’t you give me some more or it?” You smiled at him, lifting yourself from your kneeling position, to climb onto the bed on your hands and knees. Toji lifted himself to a stand, stationing himself directly behind you. He took his sweet time to appreciate the shape your exposed ass, reaching out to give the plump flesh a firm squeeze.

“And where would you like my cum now, sweetheart?” He inquired with a groan, continuing to caress your ass as he started grinding his rock hard cock against your behind. Giving a look over your shoulder, you smiled at him with heavy eyelids. If you kept giving him such glanced he was going to burst in this very moment. You were a goddess. His goddess.

You reached out to play with your pussy. “Right here.” You teased, giggling at his dumbfounded expression. “What’s wrong, Toji? Don’t you want to cum inside me?”

“God, yes. More than anything.” Toji managed to utter out, reminiscing the memories of him emptying himself in your pussy on your first time together. Allowing him to do that on your first time making love stood as the greatest gift you bestowed upon him.

“Then what are you waiti—“ Before you couldn’t finish your statement, Toji flipped you onto your back on a swift movement, settling himself on top of you carefully, making sure not to crush you with his weight. With urgency, he smashed his lips into yours, massaging your lips together into a sensual kiss. He was still astonished by the softness of your lips, enjoying the way you dragged your tongue across his scar so lovingly. Toji was experiencing such overwhelming emotions that he feared his heart could burst at any moment. He loves you. Desperately.

Toji pulled away, disappointed at the loss of the warmth of your lips, but his cock was weeping for you. He needed to feel you wrap around him.

Toji slowly started to push inside you, moaning your name as your tight heat engulfed his aching cock. He tried his hardest to not allow his heaving eyelids to block his view from your face. His need to watch your face contort with a mixture or pain and pleasure was outrageous. His cock was so big, he knew it would take a while for you to adjust yourself to it.

“T-Toji! You’re stretching me out so much.” You panted, grasping his shoulders. He finished bottoming out inside you, watching your jaw slack and squeeze your eyes shut. He couldn’t keep his eyes off your face, he could come just by staring at it.

“No, no, baby. Keep your eyes on me, look into daddy’s eyes.” Toji pleaded, hissing at the feeling of your soaked cunt clenching around him tightly. “S-shit, you’re so wet for me.” He cursed, pulling his length almost completely before thrusting back in gently, forcing a sweet moan from your lips. Your eyelids fluttered to meet his green eyes. Something about keeping eye contact with Toji as he plunged his cock in and out of your pussy made your eyes water, it was such an intimate moment.

Overwhelmed by the pleasure, tears started streaming down your face. Immediately, Toji started kissing your tears away without slowing down his steady pace.

“You’re so beautiful, sweetheart.” Toji whispered as he buried his face into your neck, peppering open mouthed kissed all over it, making sure to leave a mark so everyone knew you belonged to him. You moaned at the sensation his thrusts combined with his kisses were providing you. Toji continued lavishing your neck with kisses, lowering himself to give your nipples the same treatment. He suckled your sore nipples as he continued to work his cock in you.

“Ah, Toji. Harder, please!” You pleaded dragging your fingernails down his back. Toji complied as he turned his attention back on your face. He started plunging his cock in your cunt with rapid, smooth thrusts, getting awarded by your moans muffled by his own.

“This pretty pussy is mine, baby. I’m the only allowed to touch it, the only that can ruin it.” He grunted before continuing. “If I see you with another man, I’ll kill him!”

“Yes, daddy!” You were so fucked out of your mind, you didn’t care about any words that sputtered out his mouth. Your whole focus was on reaching your orgasm. To Toji, this was your way of agreeing to be his for the rest of your lives.

You clenched tightly around him, the arrival of you orgasm getting close. The squelching sound of his cock sinking into your wet hole filling the room.

“Tell me, d-do you want to c-come for me, sweetheart?” Toji managed to stuttered out as his thrusts became erratic, feeling his own release approaching.

“I w-want to come all over your cock.” You cried out, letting your eyes roll back at the build up you were feeling. Your legs with a quivering mess, your toes curling at the mind blowing delectation you were experiencing.

“Let’s come together, baby.” Toji commanded, picking up his pace. The moment Toji felt your cunt spasm around his cock he allowed himself to come inside you with a flow of grunts. You cried out as your clenching pussy milked him of his every drop of cum. He continued releasing ropes of his seed inside you, feeling it start to ooze out of your abused hole. Toji gave a few more sloppy thrust as you both finished reaching your high.

He pulled out of you, groaning at the sight of his cock glistening with your juices and his own cum combined. He leaned back, enjoying the view of your sweaty, panting body and his seed dripping out of your snatch.

“That was amazing, Toji.” You admitted, attempting to catch your breath.

Toji nodded in agreement, unable to say anything that wasn’t a blabbering mess. He moved to lay next to you, pulling you closer to him and you responded by snuggling yourself into his chest. Toji had to stop himself from swooning at your behavior, it was so different from that night. You were both cuddled up, relishing the warmth radiating from your nude bodies. This was all he ever needed, you completed his existence.

“How about we watch that movie now?”

446 notes · View notes

flowerandblood · 4 months

Text

The Fall from the Heavens (3)

[ dark • Aemond x Strong • niece female ]

[ warnings: oral sex, smut, angst, incest, obsession, violence, swearing, humiliation, chauvinism, mention of injury ]

[ description: A cool distance turns into friendship and more when two children see that they can find refuge and understanding in each other. However, naïve dreams collide with the reality in which every event has consequences and what once could have been love becomes a dark, newly painful obsession. Angst, sexual tension, obsession, violence, madness, very dark Aemond. ]

The story in this series is an alternate reality from the oneshot Stay and love, leave and die, in which Aemond reads the letters his niece has sent to him over the years. They are the same characters and it shows what would have happened between them − I have changed the background story from their childhood slightly for the sake of the plot.

Characters & Series Moodboard

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

When he learned of the death of Daemon's wife, he knew it was a sign from the gods that his time had come − Vhagar, the largest and oldest dragoness in the world, was left without a rider.

He thought that at last he would make his father proud, that he would take his niece to Essos as he had promised her.

It seemed to him that the heavens were finally smiling on him, that everything made sense and was slowly beginning to come together, that he could see above the mist that surrounded him his destiny.

As he fled from the fortress in the middle of the night he thought only of the fact that he might die and hoped that if he did, his betrothed would mourn him greatly and never marry any other man.

Her sign of love and loyalty, of respect for his sacrifice for her and their future family.

Vhagar was frightening and huge, like a giant, dark, moving mountain, with her every movement the earth shook around her; he couldn't believe it when she obeyed his command, his body trembled as he climbed the ropes to the great saddle on her back, he screamed with fear and joy as she flew with him into the skies.

He was the rider of the greatest dragon in the world.

He was like Visenya, like Aegon the Conqueror, and his future wife was like sweet Rhaenys.

Everything was as it should be.

He ran through the underground caverns to wake her and tell her everything, to kiss her, to spend the night in her embrace and listen to her assurances that he was fearless, that he was brave and that she was proud to become the wife of the man who had become the rider of the most powerful dragon flying in the skies in their lifetime.

It was then that he came upon them.

He thought he would never let them humiliate himself again, that bastards or weak, quivering little girls who couldn't even tame a dragon would never stand in his way again.

All that mattered was her, and though he knew she would be upset, he felt that she would forgive him, that she would understand that this was revenge for all the years of humiliation he had suffered from them.

And then Luke cut his face with his blade − he suddenly heard his own loud, squeaky, almost girlish scream and grabbed his left eye where he had lost his sight completly.

He was given poppy milk to ease his pain and a stick was put in his mouth that he was told to clamp his teeth on; his mother cried out loud, horrified when she saw what had happened to him, the maester said the eye could not be saved and would have to be taken out.

That he would be a cripple.

He wailed and screamed, feeling the cut of the heated blade on his skin, struggling and writhing like an animal, tied to a chair, and then he stopped feeling anything, staring dully ahead, his mother and Aegon unable to look at it.

He saw her as if in a dream, and though she always smiled at the sight of him, this time she screamed loudly, terror and fear in her eyes.

She covered her mouth with her hand trying to hold back the sounds that came from her throat.

Then he understood.

So what if he had claimed a dragon, if she would never desire him again?

How would she force herself to marry someone who was from now on supposed to look like him?

He returned to King's Landing with the thought that all was lost and he didn't want to see anyone, much less her.

He didn't want her tears of sympathy, her assurances that she still loved him, her pity, the fact that in order not to offend him she would refrain from showing how disgusted she now was by his face.

He was no fool.

Her letter only angered him − he tore it into little pieces clenching his lips, thinking she was an idiot, giving him books now that he had lost one eye, reminding him that he would never see well again, that he would always be defective, that he would have to learn everything from the beginning.

However, as soon as he did so he immediately regretted it and burst out crying, looking at the pieces of parchment lying on his sheets, thinking of how he wished he could read it again because it was her handwriting, her words to him.

His conviction of his ugliness and the fact that what had happened crossed him out in her eyes as a man she could desire deepened his state into complete withdrawal, sinking into the darkness of his thoughts, fears and desires.

He needed someone to loathe, to throw all his ill emotions at, and he had chosen Luke as such a person, however it was the thoughts and dreams of her that kept him awake at night.

Waiting for her letters was his obsession.

She sent one every two months, always on the same day, for many years. At first they were short and full of uncertainty, but then it seemed to him that she had the impression that he didn't read them anyway, so she began to write and confide in someone who no longer existed, revealing to him the darkness and suffering of her own heart.

He was embarrassed by his own reactions, that whenever he saw a sealed message from her lying on his table he would take it reverently and sit down on a chair by the fire, as if in some kind of ceremony pulling off the lac and unrolling it slowly, feeling his heart beat fast.

Dragonstone appears to me like a prison, like a black coffin, the sky above me full of clouds. I can't remember the last time light dawned in my heart − when I wake up I wonder for a moment about the meaning of it all, only to realise that thinking about it is pointless, it only sinks me further into the darkness.

It seems that the more I move away from what surrounds me, the greater the silence that settles in my head.

After what happened something inside me died.

Not in the aspect of my body, but in the sense of a conviction that something is missing, like when you look in a mirror reassembled from hundreds of pieces and, even though it is whole again, you can clearly see its cracks.

I wonder, are you sleeping well, uncle? Are you having nightmares again? I often return in my dreams to that night. I see you and although I want to say something, I can't get anything out, just as I did then. I wake up with the conviction that I am still a child.

I pray a lot, although I don't know myself to which gods anymore. I guess to any of who would be willing to listen to me. They don't answer me, just like you.

He repeated to himself in his mind that he would read her despairing, feminine ramblings to mock her, but in fact he was immersed in her thoughts, in her world, trying to imagine her, analysing each word with pietism, returning to the sentences that had taken the most root in his heart and would not leave him afterwards for days.

He read her letters for hours, treating such evenings like a sacred day, running his thumb over his lower lip, staring dully ahead in the light of the blazing fire, thinking of her words.

Although he pretended that what she wrote meant nothing to him, once in a while, usually when he was waiting for her next message, he would take all her letters and read them one by one, analysing how her handwriting had changed, now much prettier and assured, how her choice of words had evolved, rich and full of metaphors.

He knew that, like him, she read a lot.

She never brought up the matter of his or her family, the details of their conflict, their betrothal and the fact that his mother had insisted that he marry one of Lord Baratheon's daughters.

When he learned that Rhaenyra planned to marry his niece to her cousin of House Arryn he grabbed all her letters she had sent him over the years, which he kept locked in his wooden drawer, and almost threw them into the fire, hesitating at the last moment, squeezing them in his hand, panting with rage.

Although he kept repeating to himself that it was a good thing he wouldn't have to take a bastard wife, immediately his mind went into a fury at the thought that she might have become someone else's mistress, borne children to other man, and he found himself sinking into her letters again, as if re-appropriating her in this way.

He feared nothing more than that one day she would stop writing to him.

He dreaded what he would do then.

The days when Aegon could mess with him were long gone. His older brother the drunkard knew he was no match for him in hand-to-hand combat, he was taller, smarter and stronger than he was.

Yet it was Aegon who was to inherit everything that would not fall to Rheanyra as future queen.

He wanted to be his opposite in every sense of the word; his appearance made him even more isolated from the opposite sex and he didn not look at women at all, spending long hours in the Great Sept with his mother praying at her request.

If it had been up to him, he would have prayed to the gods of Old Valyria, but he saw her loneliness and loss, and wanted to be a support for her, a son she would be proud of.

Despite what he tried to tell himself, the tension he felt as a man grew stronger within him, even more so in the evenings when he leaned over her letters again, when he thought of her scent, of her hand holding the quill.

He wondered involuntarily what she looked like now, what he would notice if he undressed her, if he exposed her bare breasts to him.

Would they fit in his hand, would they be soft and warm?

Would she moan sweetly if he touched her there?

He tilted his head back, trying to read further, settling himself more comfortably in the chair, his free hand slipping under his breeches, gripping his already half-hard, throbbing manhood.

He imagined that it wasn't his hand but hers that was touching him, that she wasn't disgusted by him, that just like before her hands were stroking his cheeks, her lips were finding his in a sweet, warm kiss.

A murmur escaped his throat at the thought, a wave of heat surged over him and he quickened, fucking himself with his own hand until he came with a low sigh of relief, imagining that she was sitting on top of him, that he had just filled her with his seed, that she was begging him not to stop.

However, when he regained his sanity he felt rage and shame.

He hid her letters in a drawer and did not take them out for weeks, as if offended that it was their fault he had to pray again and beg the gods for forgiveness.

He promised himself that this would not happen again, however, it always ended the same way.

The knowledge that he could not forget her enraged and calmed him at the same time, as if this state was natural, the parallel hatred and desire for her became one and the same in his eyes.

He hated her because he desired her, desired her because he could not have her, could not have her because he hated her.

He locked himself in this circle, not allowing anyone to see what was poisoning his mind and heart.

If in the poems women appeared innocent and bright, she was to him the symbol of his downfall, his flame of his eternal suffering, which burned him every day, but which he did not dare to extinguish knowing that complete darkness would then prevail inside him.

When it became known that Vaemond Velaryon had challenged Luke's claim to the throne of Driftmark he laughed out loud at the Small Council meeting, amused, embarrassing his mother and grandfather.

He thought the gods were cruel but fair.

The grin disappeared from his face, replaced by a strong heartbeat when their Queen conveyed that Rhaenyra, along with her entire family, would appear in King's Landing in a few days to settle the matter.

With her entire family.

He sat by the fireplace that evening, running his thumb over his lips, feeling that there was complete panic in his mind, hundreds of thoughts running through his head.

He wasn't ready for this.

He didn't want to see her.

He wanted nothing more than to see her again.

He was disgusted by her and her brothers, by the fact that he would be sitting at the same table with her.

Would she touch him with her soft hand? Did she still smell of vanilla? Would she whisper that she missed him?

What was he to answer if she did?

Mock her, tell her that she should retain the remnants of her dignity.

Tear off her gown, press his lips to her bare body, saying that he would sooner kill her than let her marry someone else.

He let out a loud shuddering breath, burying his face in his hand, feeling like his head was about to explode, his heart pounding like mad.

He had the feeling that he was losing his mind, that he was descending into madness.

When he saw Jace and Luke among the crowds, when he saw how small and skinny they were compared to him, when he saw their mouths wide open in shock as they realised who they were looking at, he thought he had never felt more satisfied in his life.

"Nephews. Have you come to train?" He asked in a deep, teasing voice feigning concern as he played with the hilt of his sword in his hand, flipping it between his fingers.

He wanted nothing more than to humiliate them in public.

His musings and wild excitement were interrupted by Vaemond's entrance into the courtyard − he grinned broadly at the sight of him, feeling a sense of satisfaction, sighing quietly, thinking of how the gods had rewarded his patience.

He turned impatiently, extending his hand to his servant, willing him to hand him another wooden shield and froze in half-step, out of the corner of his eye noticing a silhouette looking at him from the cloisters.

It seemed his heart knew who was standing there even before it reached his mind, for it began to pound like mad, his breath stopped in his throat.

He forced himself to look there again and that's when he saw her − he couldn't believe how much she had changed.

Although he could see the obvious features and similarities by which he recognised her immediately, her eyes, her eyelashes, the shade of her hair, the shape of her nose and face, it seemed to him that if she had been a bud when she left the Red Keep, she was now a flower that had blossomed, a ripe fruit that begged to be plucked, to bite into its flesh.

It occurred to him, looking at the unashamedly exposed bare skin of her shoulders, that it must have been pleasantly soft and warm.

He imagined his lips brushing the hollow of her neck, the scent of vanilla he would smell and he shuddered, ashamed and horrified at how hard his manhood throbbed in his breeches.

This sight, so clear, blunt, final, completely shocked him, and though it lasted only a moment, he managed to remember the shape of her breasts and hips, the shape of her mouth, her terrified gaze full of longing, from which he felt a tightness in his throat and this huge, overwhelming, cruel desire.

He turned away from her, furious, thrusting his sword at Criston, their blades clashing in the air with a loud clang of steel.

That evening he felt that something hung in the air, he felt her presence in the keep, he had the impression that if he turned he would see her silhouette behind him.

He played between his fingers with his dagger and looked at it, wondering if he would feel relief if he killed her, if he would then regain control of his body and mind again.

Maybe it was the right path.

Maybe it was because of her that he was unable to move on.

He shuddered and tensed all over when he heard a quiet knock on the door to his chamber − he felt a cold sweat on the back of his neck, knowing that it was her, that destiny had reached him.

He felt it in his bones.

He wanted to remain silent, he wanted to show her that she no longer had access to his world, that he recognised years ago that there was no way for them that they could walk together.

I pray a lot, although I don't know myself to which gods anymore. I guess to any of who would be willing to listen to me. They don't answer me, just like you.

He closed his eye, feeling a squeeze in his throat at the thought of those three sentences that echoed through his mind and heart like a bell, that undeniable desire on her part to be reunited with him that he pretended not to share.

"Come in." He said coldly, feeling the thrill of excitement, his heart pounding so hard that he felt like it was going to burst out of his chest.

The door opened with a quiet creak of wood, and she appeared in it, surrounded by the glow of candlelight, looking like a saint, like a ghost, like an innocent, sweet maiden who was lost in the black maze that had always been meant to lead her to him.

He resigned himself to the fact that there was no escape from it.

She closed the door behind her and turned to look at him; he wasn't sure if it was the flames that was trembling or if it was her body that was quivering all over with fear, in her big eyes terror, desire, suffering, everything she had written to him about.

Only after a moment did he realise that his jaw was clenched, that he was involuntarily still playing with his dagger in his hand as he looked at the indistinct silhouette of her naked body peeking through from under her nightgown, her long dark hair loose, its curls falling freely over her back.

He felt his length throbbing hard at the thought of her coming to him dressed as a lover, as if she were his, and he licked his lower lip with his tongue, catching himself breathing loudly.

Gods, how long he had waited for this.

"Did you received my letters?" She asked quietly, as usual without any further pleasantries, her voice trembled slightly betraying her fear. He shuddered to hear that she no longer sounded like a child, the way she spoke was melodious and pleasant, soft, warm.

"Yes." He replied in a low, deep voice, sounding like an echo in an endless, dark bottomless well. He saw that she blinked rapidly, as if she hadn't expected such an answer; she pressed her lips together and swallowed loudly, gathering the courage to say more.

She knew she had ventured into the dragon's cave and might never leave it again.

He knew, he felt that she was aware of what was on his mind, that she saw it in his gaze.

"Have you read them?" She asked at last, there was something final in her question.

He parted his lips slightly, lifting his chin in a defiant gesture, stretching comfortably in his chair, wondering if he should humiliate her with words that he had burned them all.

To let her know that she no longer meant anything to him.

He wanted to say it, but he couldn't.

"Yes, my Lady Strong. I have read them all. Many times, here, in this chair." He hummed, running the blade of his dagger across the armrest, making a deep, chiseled line on it.

Go on, he thought, ask me why I didn't write back, what I thought of your tendentious, weepy musings, what I thought of your feminine, touching guilt, of your weakness, of your coming to me now like a dog to beg forgiveness.

She, however, asked nothing.

He shuddered and threw her a surprised glance as she suddenly moved ahead and walked around his chamber, as if she had lost interest in the subject, making him feel discomfort, as if he had lost control of the situation, his advantage over her.

"Does your mother-whore know you're here?" He asked dryly, coldly, wanting to take away her confidence, to embarrass her, to strike at her dignity, reminding her that she herself had come to a grown man in such a shameless negligee.

She, however, merely threw him a surprised glance as she approached his bookshelves, the small one he had been given as a child replaced by three new ones, made of oak wood, high to the ceiling, filled to the brim.

She reached for one of the volumes and he felt a squeeze in his throat when he saw that she had taken out The Reflections on the Dignity of the Ancient Philosopher Areon.

"My, as you put it, mother-whore, never knew when I visited you, uncle. I was very determined not to be caught." She said calmly, but with an air of regret and weariness, as if the situation between them was tiring her, as if she believed that facing him like a ghost from the past would allow her to move on.

He thought they both could have done it, but he wasn't sure if the blade he held in his hand wouldn't have cut her neck then.

The thought that someone else might touch her body made him furious.

He snorted, turning his gaze to the flames, involuntarily turning his dagger in his hand − he grinned despite being tense and bitter.

"Do you often visit men like this?" He asked reluctantly, though inside he was dying to prove to himself that surely she had already slept with her guards or other men who would give her pleasure, that the sweet, innocent girl he remembered was long gone.

He heard her footsteps and felt her presence; he lifted his eyes to her, surprised, and noticed that her gaze was cloudy, her brow furrowed.

She looked as if she had been exceptionally offended by those very words.

"Have you no shame?" She asked him in a cool, trembling voice; he could feel the pain in the way she asked the question, his lips tightened into a thin line.

He was struck by how direct the question was.

He wasn't used to being spoken to like that.

But before he had time to respond with anything, to finally stab her in the back with words that were like poison, she began to speak, as if a dam had suddenly burst inside her and her thoughts poured out at him.

"I don't know who you are, the man who sits now before me, but if there is even a fragment of the boy I was meant to marry in you, let that boy know that he was and will be the only one in my heart. He was my best friend and I failed him. It is hard to live with the thought that someone you loved so deeply has died in a way, but there is neither a grave to pray over nor any hope of peace for his soul. What I fear is that the boy I knew has disappeared among the darkness and is dying in it every day."

He was ashamed that he felt a squeeze in his throat, that he felt a burning under his eyelids, that his heart was pounding like mad, that he froze completely in disbelief and shock as he stared at her wide-eyed.

She was crying in front of him, as if she was really mourning someone's death, and he didn't know what to do, even if he wanted to humiliate her, tell her to leave, he couldn't get anything out of himself.

He drew in air loudly and his whole body stiffened, the dagger fell out of his hand with loud clatter when she surprised him completely by sitting down on his lap, snuggling into him like a little child and burst out sobbing.

He had the feeling that she was not embracing him in the here and now, but a figure from the past that she missed so much.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry." She whined in a desperate, trembling, quavering voice − he felt he was struggling to catch his breath, his nostrils filled with her scent, the smell of vanilla, her familiar warmth, his manhood hidden beneath his breeches swelled in response to this sudden, unexpected closeness.

She shuddered feeling it and looked up at him, her face flooded with tears, terrified and ashamed, her gaze asking him what she had just felt underneath her. He began to breathe through his mouth, feeling the panic rising inside him because of the heat he felt in his lower abdomen.

There were drops of her tears on her eyelashes, her eyes big, her gaze hot, tender, terrified, her cheeks flushed with emotion, her lips puffy and plump, slightly parted in an accelerated breath.

"Can I kiss you?"

He wasn't sure if he really heard it, it seemed to have only resounded in his head as his memory of that sunny day, but involuntarily he leaned lower.

He sighed as if relieved when her arms suddenly embraced his neck, her breasts snuggled into his tunic, and her wonderfully wet, soft lips pressed against his in a sticky, loud kiss.

They both moaned into each other's mouths as they felt him throb under her again, harder this time − he wasn't sure if it was his will that guided the movements of his hands as one clamped down on her hip and the other on the back of her neck, holding her in place, not allowing her lips to pull away from his as he slid his tongue deep into her throat.

They both trembled as he tentatively began to rock his hips, rubbing against her, overwhelmed by her familiar closeness and scent, her so-needed, gentle hands stroking his hair and cheeks, her thumb running over his scar under his eye patch.

The sight of her body, her sweetly parted lips, her hot gaze in which everything lurked, and her scent, the smell of fucking vanilla filled his entire mind.

He rubbed against her his already hard cock again and again, sliding his free hand under her chemise, placing it on her naked, hot hip, digging his fingertips into her skin, his manhood reacting to his movements instantly with a strong, pleasurable throbbing, he involuntarily began to pant.

He saw the blush on her sweet, innocent face, her hips in a slow, smooth motion began to move back and forth, pressing what was underneath her; he shuddered all over feeling it and they both sighed quietly as her fingers ran over his scarred cheek.

"− uncle −" She whispered softly into his mouth, exactly like in his dreams, like when he touched himself between his thighs with his hand, with longing and desire.

He was unable to remember when she pressed her sweet-tasting lips to his, hugging her soft breasts into the fabric of his tunic, what the reason for their disagreement was, it seemed to him to be completely trivial and unfounded.

He thought it was obvious that the lovers had argued with each other and then reconciled.

That was all he thought about as he undid the ties of her nightgown, sucking and caressing her mouth, jaw and neck with his swollen lips, leaving wet, hot marks on her skin, his hands slid it slowly off her shoulders, revealing her bare body, her lovely breasts, unashamedly before him.

He delighted in this sight, almost mythological, noble, for breasts were the joy of husbands and the source of milk for their offspring, something beautiful, admirable.

He could feel her trembling all over in his hands, terrified by her negligee; he was sure now that no one had ever seen her naked before him and this thought spread like a wonderful, hot wave through his body.

"− easy − your husband will treat your body with proper respect −" He murmured in a deep voice trembling with arousal, his large hand grasped one of her breast and squeezed it tentatively; he sighed feeling how warm and soft it was, he heard her surprised moan.

He grasped her cheeks in his fingers, with a brutal, sudden movement drawing her face closer to his; his hand slid lower, ran over her soft, wet, full lips. She moaned helplessly because of the increasingly rapid bucking of his hips, the bulge in his breeches rubbing against the spot between her legs.

"− please −" She babbled, and he decided to take pity on her, sliding his tongue deep inside her throat, stifling her loud mewl, his fingers began to tease and play with her nipple, her whole body shivered; he felt her hands tighten in his hair, her lips melt into his in a quick, hot dance of saliva and teeth.

"− uh − I − I feel a tickling inside me, uncle −" She mumbled out as innocently as if she really didn't know what was happening to her, as if she wanted him to help her understand what her body was trying to tell her, however he, hearing this, lost his temper.

Despite the material of his breeches separating them where their bodies met, he could feel her moisture.

She was wet.

She wanted him inside her.

"− it's understandable − you missed your uncle − hm? −" He whispered into her mouth with a kind of tenderness and understanding that surprised him, as if it had been obvious that this was how it would end. She nodded quickly like a child who agreed with his teacher, who wanted to be guided, to be shown what was right.

She squealed as he stood up with her, holding her in his arms, just thinking about the fact that he hadn't felt this calm for years, the sight of her, the smell of her made his head spin.

He couldn't even remember why he was mad at her, why he hadn't written her back, why he wanted to kill her.

How could he ever hurt her, his sweet little wife?

"− lie on your back − yes, just like that −" He murmured with delight, looking at her partially exposed body; her lips was pink and puffy from his caresses, her breathing quick as she looked at him dreamily, watching as he began to undo the fastenings of his tunic, getting rid of it and his chemise, leaving only his breeches.

He climbed onto the bed with a loud creak of wood, not quite sure what he should do, sensing subconsciously, however, that this was the day of their reunion, their reconciliation after years of separation, the figures of Lord Baratheon's daughters and Lord Arryn's son seemed to him nothing more than a joke.

Aegon spoke to him of how wonderful it was to taste the woman between their thighs, that they quivered with delight when he licked them there, and since he would devour her whole if he could, he decided to try.

She was horrified and distraught when she saw his face between her thighs; she tried to push him away, asking him fearfully what he was going to do, but only tilted her head back as his tongue ran over her leaking, throbbing, hot womanhood, the sound she made surprised even him.

"− o-oh, gods −" She whimpered as he licked devotedly what spilled out of her, the taste and flesh of his wife, her proof that she didn't despise him, that she still wanted him, that her tight cunt was waiting for him and for his caresses.

"− have you touched yourself here? −" He asked between one lick of his tongue and the next, her thighs trembling in his hands, her fingers clenched in his hair, trying to rub against his face. He grinned involuntarily sensing her desperation, seeing that she nodded and ran the tip of his nose over the bud hidden between her folds, she moaned loudly when he did it.

Encouraged, he grasped it in his mouth and began to suck on it, licking it with his tongue; her whole body arched, uncontrollable moans erupted from her mouth. He tried to cover her lips with his hand, fearing that someone would eventually hear it, but she clamped her hands on his wrist, blocking his movements.

"− please, uncle, too much − too much −" She whined out trying to escape; he stopped, seeing that her body was shaking in convulsions, surprised how sensitive the female body was and how many secrets it hid.

He thought he now understood why it was Rhaenys that Aegon the Conqueror wanted in his bed.

In the art of the body, one could not be aggressive and brutal as on the battlefield.

What they were doing was some sort of a feast, tasting and satisfying their desires, full of moistures and hot embraces.

He hummed as he leaned down again and slipped his tongue deep inside her, feeling how rough and wet her fleshy walls were, groaning quietly as her wonderful taste spread across his palate.

"− uncle − mghmm −" She mumbled breathing hard, with each flick of his tongue drifting away more and more, he could feel her insides pulsing all over around nothing.

"− it'll be wonderful to feel it clench around my cock one day − don't you think, sweet niece? −" He asked, pressing his face closer to her body, licking and rubbing her walls at the spot that when he touched it with the tip of his tongue she trembled the most, moaning helplessly, her hips coming up to meet his face, her breathing getting louder and louder.

"− oh g-gods, Aemond − oh gods,oh gods,oh gods −" She mewled, startling him as she raised herself up on her elbow, tilting her head back, bliss and delight painted on her face, her plump, glossy lips parted in sweet moans as if in disbelief that something so wonderfully pleasurable had shaken her body.

It was the first time he had ever seen female fulfilment and it was a stunning, wonderful sight.

He groaned low as he felt how much moisture flowed out of her, kissing her hot, throbbing entrance devotedly, slowly licking everything off, not wanting to waste a drop, even though she begged him to stop.

Everything he drank from her was for him, the wonderful nectar of his sweet wife.

He rose on his knees, wiping his face with his hand, looking at her in disbelief, panting loudly; she lay as if without strength, with her hands spread on either side of her head, her plump, puffy lips slightly parted in ragged breath.

His niece.

"Touch me." He demanded, slipping off his breeches, taking her hand in his, with a desperate, sudden movement clamping her fingers on his swollen, twitching manhood, leaking from his own wetness. They both moaned helplessly when, with movements of his hand, he showed her how she was to touch him.

She looked up at him in shame, squeezing him with sure up and down strokes, feeling him throb all over in her grasp; he rocked his hips involuntarily, sensing that he was embarrassingly close to fulfillment.

"− fuck − fuck, come here −" He gasped, grabbing her by her hair, forcing her to rise up and kiss him − their lips collided in a sticky, messy kiss, the combination of their tongues and their saliva, the smell of her, the sight of her bare body, the scent of her sex, her moisture around them, proof of what they were doing.

Against their gods, against their family.

He didn't care what happened next.

"− don't fucking stop − faster − oh fuck-fuck-fuck −" He growled out and moaned low, surprised at the helpless sound that came from his throat, coming with a sigh of relief onto her nightgown, his translucent, pearly spend spurting out onto her, startling her; he hushed her with his kisses, whispering to her between the sticky brushes of their lips.

"− easy, it's just me − shhh −" He whispered, letting go of her hand, allowing her to release her grip, her fingers all sticky with his seed.

"− lick it off − don't waste a drop −" He growled, wrinkling his eyebrows and she swallowed loudly, obediently licking her finger after finger, looking him straight in the eye. He watched her with satisfaction, thinking of how obedient and good a wife she would indeed be.

"− you are going to spend the night with me −"

______

From the author: In Stay and love, leave and die oneshot Aemond would not allow her to enter his chamber, he would remain silent - in his opinion, she had forgotten about him and suddenly wanted to regain his favor, which he found pathetic and irritating, not worth his attention. None of her letters reached him through the years, having been intercepted and burned by Otto. The next day, he informed his mother that either she would leave the Red Keep or he would, and she decided to return to Dragonstone so as not to escalate the conflict. In that universe, they actually speak to each other only in Strom's End.

______

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy @randomdragonfires @apollonshootafar @padfooteyes

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dxstopiaa · 1 year

Text

Vocal Veneration

Synopsis: Lately, the Traveller can’t help but notice a alteration in someone’s behaviour. Seems like an interrogation is due.

Characters: Zhongli, Xiao, Childe, Ayato, Al Haitham and Diluc x Fem! Reader.

Warnings: None, the tiniest bit suggestive.. [I thought i’d try this cute idea out! <3 but i’ve been so tired and demotivated with school and family issues sigh, my eyes (ᗒᗣᗕ)]

Zhongli

About You: Impressions

Hm [Name]? Ah, a truly polite and welcoming young woman. She often accompanies me with affairs regarding Wangsheng Funeral Parlour, insisting on lessening my workload. I consider her a suitable role model for the children of Liyue. Excuse me? Are you insinuating that there’s something i’m not informing you of? Ahem, that is information i shan’t tell you just yet.

About You: Godhood

I had intended to keep my identity as Morax a secret, yet some citizens are more observant than i thought. She was the first to recognise such as she was a devoted follower of Rex Lapis, i find myself flattered. What? No, [Name] did not worship me after she knew i could hear her every request. She apologised profusely afterwards, and was quite embarrassed. Adorable.

About You: Betrothal

Ah, Traveller. Here, this is my engagement invite, i’d appreciate your appearance at the function. Oh, you saw this coming? Hah…I suppose it can’t be helped, perhaps love is inevitable as they say, i shall not make the same mistake, not again. Why, you ask? No matter, let’s not spoil the mood with a lengthy monologue, Farewell till then, my friend.

Xiao

About You: Impressions

[Name]? The individual who often pays her respects at the adepti shrine? I watch her from afar, sometimes she notices— but she doesn’t say much apart from a simple greeting. It’s refreshing to see a young mortal appreciating us nowadays where our job becomes less prominent. What do you mean my voice is quieter? It’s not.

About You: Karma

Whenever i’m with [Name], my karmic debt seems to take less of a toll on me. That burning sensation encasing my heart dissipates. She makes it bearable enough to manage. On some nights, she brings me gifts and food to take my mind from the terrors. Huh? I’m in love? Hmph. Foolish mortal emotions don’t interest me.

About You: Acceptance

So be it, as you predicted, me and her have grown rather close. No— this does not give you the opportunity to tease me for it. Adepti should value the short lifespans of humans, via protection but also expression, i was told. This doesn’t sound like me, you say? Hm, i fail to understand what you mean.

Childe

About You: Impressions

Ah! The illustrious traveller also knows of my co-worker! [Name] is quite unique, no? At first, she came off as a little apprehensive but she no longer hesitates to spend time with me exclusively. What was that? Professionalism and relationships should remain separate? Nonsense. This isn’t a romantic amour!

About You: Combat

I feel a sense of pride knowing that i have managed to teach someone how to master the rules of combat! It was only necessary, i couldn’t bear to witness my dearest injured. Wait! In the name of the Tsarista, promise not to tell [Name] i called her so, will you? Comrade, It was a minor meaningless slip up!

About You: Family

Ah, how i wish to return to the confines of Snezhnaya. I’m certain that Teucer and Tonia will adore [Name] too! She’s so sweet behind that closed-off persona, perhaps i can declare my love for her in person prior…Oh, you’re volunteering to help me? I’d adore some aid here, confessing isn’t exactly easy, you know.

Ayato

About You: Impressions

Do i know [Name]? Certainly, she is my wife after all. Hm, you were unaware? Is it really that shocking? Ah, it is not at all rare to see a commissioner with someone of a higher or alike status. It’s not that, you say? So you’re suggesting something about my personality. I see… I’d estimated you’d react this way nonetheless.

About You: Workload

As the Yashiro Commissioner, I am not exempt from towers of overflowing paperwork and contracts. My role, keeping peace between the Tri-Commission, can be quite taxing from time to time. Luckily enough, my beloved never fails to provide me with her delicious cooking and endearing words. [Name] brews the best milk tea for me, care to try some? I have a fresh batch ready.

About You: Heir

Oh my— why do you ask of such a thing? Surely this is too soon to be conversing about children, no? While we do intend to, ahem, expand the Kamisato bloodline, i fear of my duties interfering with my role as an attentive father for my child. Of course, the welfare of my dearest wife comes first. Hm, my face is flushed pink? False.

Al Haitham

About You: Impressions

[Name] is notably the only person i get along with, as she understands the definition of ‘boundary’. Not entirely ignorant but not annoyingly persistent either. I quite often find the saying that opposites attract to be outdated. Like-minded people are worth spending time with. Hmph, you know i did not mean it in that way.

About You: Akademiya

Why do you ask? I surmise it wouldn’t be too taxing to let you know. We were classmates within the Haravatat Darshan. She’d buy me food and drinks in return for working on projects together as she insisted. I accepted the offer, certainly better than joining the other entitled scholars. We must of been close? Huh, we still are. What’s so shocking? I’m not that arrogant.

About You: Emotions

I am least fond of expressing my feelings, i thought it was pointless and a partial waste of my energy when i can resolve such issues with my own logic. Admittedly, i was incorrect. [Name] always offered her time to listen to my very few words and i’d listen to hers. Fair exchange, i called it then. It wasn’t until an argument broke out that i learned not all experience comes from books, sometimes from people. Those words of hers became a principle to me.

Diluc

About You: Impressions

My spouse, [Name]? I don’t think i would know where to begin in terms of describing what i think of her. Loving, caring, humorous, gorgeous—need i continue? You’ve never met her formally…why don’t i invite you personally to Dawn Winery for an evening meal. She’d love to get to know you. Good, it’s settled then.

About You: Winery

After being left with the responsibility of the business at eighteen, i’ve developed a routine which i’ve mostly stayed consistent with. Having a family of my own now, there’s no doubt it is much different. Hm? My winery is big enough to accommodate them? Haha, they surely liven it up, keeping my wife and i busy as of late. Don’t worry, i treat her to all she likes afterwards with my income, wine and luxuries.

About You: Children

What—? No, i am contented with my two children. Hah, any more and i believe i wouldn’t be able to multitask between my profession and duties. Though i do quite like the idea of staying home on paternity leave with my beloved [Name]. Again, please, i request you not to suggest such…topics, my wife is already teasing me, not you too.

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diejager · 3 months

Note

Hi i love all your stepdad konig and dbf horangi stories🩷 I wanted to ask if you could do a follow up on the pregnancy story where the reader gives births to twins(boy nd girl) and she ends up moving out to this big penthouse with horangi that he and konig paid for,,,,i dont know if thats too much this is my first time requesting,,again you're really amazing and talented🩷💕

Cw: forced pregnancy, DUB-CON/NON-CON, DARKFIC, STEPCEST, child birth, kidnapping, isolation, threat of taking custody, forced marriage, mention of divorce, tell me if I missed any,

Pregnancy was a stressful thing, weighing on your conscience and body, it was a difficult affair for any mother, but yours especially, with your underlying living condition and situation. You provided your baby - babies, you learned after your first ultrasound, seeing two small embryos curled inside your womb - with nourishment, time and energy, your time wasting away to keep them safe and alive, supporting two lives in your womb rather than one. That put a bigger strain on your health, adding to your stress and terror —a bigger risk to your life and theirs.

You doubted your life could get any harder than it was, the constant touching, the fussing, the looming and the shadowing would eventually get to you, but what you hadn’t expected was for König to hold them against you. You should have, honestly, looking back to their streak of cruelty and selfishness, expected that one of them would hold your sweet babies’s custody over you to have you bend to their will.

Who would side with a young and broken mother when she had a strong and more mature father to nurture the kids, retired and respected by his old coworkers and bosses. They would win this battle over their custody, taking away your little rays of sunshine in your dark times, the ones who held your fingers in their soft and tiny hands when you cried at night and their coos making you smile. They were products of rape, a physical proof of your mistreatment, you knew that, but you loved them so, so much.

Your little girl and little boy were everything you would’ve asked for, quiet and easy to manage, they were good kids, even at six months old. You would take care of them on your own if you could, you knew you could be a good mother if you had the chance, but König and Horangi didn’t give you much time. They would take your angels away if you didn’t agree to marry one of them. It was a cruel act of power and sheer dominance, showing you what they could do to have you submit without actually acting on it.

You lost contact with your mom, your last memory of her was her frantic and tearful ramble, locking all doors and trying to do her best to separate the men from you, trying her best to build a shield between you three. She tried her best to protect you and your babies from them, but they had connection, power and a name for themselves, there was little she or you could do against determined men.

That was the last time you saw her, your contacts with the outside world controlled by your two wardens, anything had to go through them in case of dangers towards you and the twin. You lived in a gilded cage, a pretty penthouse and a cabin in the Austrian Alps, a comfortable bed, and a relaxed lifestyle. It was all any person would give to have - a life you dreamed to live - if you weren’t forcefully married to two men, uprooted from your home and taken away to be locked up at the top of a building.

The light in this dark situation was that the twins would have a comfortable life, living a life of luxury without getting spoiled if you taught them right, if you watched them grow up with a strict but fair way. You wouldn’t want them growing up as selfish and cruel as their fathers, your adorable Yoon-Suh with her blue eyes and black mop of hair, and your excitable Leon with his auburn hair and warm, brown eyes. They were your sole priority.

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @daisychainsinknots @0alk0msan @danielle143 @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @petwifed @randominstake @cassiecasluciluce @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi @lucienbarkbark @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @223princess

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yanderelinkeduniverse · 3 months

Text

Yandere Sky Headcanons

Sky is, without a doubt, a hopeless romantic when he’s in love. We’ve seen him swoon and sigh dreamily when thinking about his loved one, he’s THAT kind of lover boy. Naturally, when adding a layer of insanity tinged love sickness to that adoration, he’s prone to becoming very affectionate.

Unless you are as dense as a rock, it will be no secret that the Hero of the Skies is head over heels in love with you. He basically has heart shaped pupils whenever he looks at you, cartoon heart bubbles magically appear around his head when in your vicinity and his face turns so red you’d think he had a high fever.

Sky is a devout yandere, obsessive in every way, shape and form, and protective to a fault. Even when not around you, you occupy his thoughts and daydreams to the point where it seems like he’s never not thinking about you.

He’s got a masters degree in yearning from Pining University.

And while he hasn’t lost that many people like some of the other mentally unstable chosen ones in the Chain(namely Wild and Legend), the fear of losing them is very real to him. He’s known the blood chilling terror of being a few steps too slow and a few minutes too late with the only thought in his head being “what did I do wrong?”

Following the conclusion of his first and only journey, Sky has come to accept that he made his mistakes and that he must move on in order to grow, but that doesn’t stop him from taking those lessons to heart when falling in love with you.

We’ve seen multiple times throughout the various installments that one of Sky’s favorite hobbies is playing his lyre. It’s a simple pleasure he indulges in whenever they have a moment of peace and the sound never fails to remind him of his home. But he’s found another reason to love it and that is the attention you end up giving him whenever he plays a song.

He isn’t the best musician in the group, but there’s no denying that the simple melodies he strings together are pleasing to the ears, so it’s no wonder you’d take the time to sit down, listen, and compliment him.

Sky doesn’t see it like that, though.

In his deluded, love hazy mind, all that registers is that you’re there giving him your attention and your praise; two things worth more than gold in his eyes. He’s like a drug addict who just got hit with another dosage. If he had a tail he’d be wagging it so hard it would thump against the log he’s sitting on, so he better consider himself lucky that Twilight is the dog of the group.

Though, if would please you, he’d willingly let you collar and leash him. Tell him to sit and roll over, he’ll do it on command without any shame whatsoever. He’ll even walk around on all fours if you want!-

Anyways-

THIS! 👏 MF! 👏 STEALS! 👏 FROM! 👏 YOU! 👏

I mean, technically it isn’t for long, he won’t permanently take something that belongs to you without ever giving it back(in secret so you never find out it was him), but he WILL swipe something of yours from time to time. Most commonly he’ll take a tunic or shirt from you, something you won’t immediately notice is gone.

When he has a moment of privacy, he’ll take out his little treasure and press it against his face, taking in a deeeeeep breath, and sighing lovingly. He’s got it bad for you and he knows it. If he could he’d use your tunic as a pillowcase whenever he went to sleep, but there’s no way he wouldn’t get caught.

Despite all this sugary sweetness, Sky isn’t solely a soft and gentle boy. If he is provoked, or if you’re being bothered, Sky doesn’t hesitate to step up and glare down the nuisance, all the while keeping a calm smile stretched across his face. This is where his surprisingly deep voice comes in handy, people aren’t expecting a voice like his to come from such a soft face.

Out of all the members of the Chain, I actually think that Sky would be one of the most patient when it comes to people trying to mess with them or you respectively; he’s dealt with Groose’s bullying for a few years, I think he’s a natural at letting nasty comment slide right off him like water off a duck’s back.

However, even then his patience is dangerously thin regarding people. If provoked he won’t hesitate to begin plotting the fool’s demise, whether it be a swift cut to the jugular or a slow, agonizing demise is up to the person in question.

And finally, just a hint, do not try to run from him, it won’t work.

If Fi’s ability to dowse objects and seek them out is based on Sky’s own desire to find them, then if you were to try and run away, he’d be able to track you right down to the exact spot you’re standing in. Because there is nothing and no one alive that Sky wants and needs more than you.

Hide in the woods, in a cave, in a dungeon, in a mountain, it doesn’t matter. He will hunt you down, find you, and drag you back home in his loving, suffocating embrace.

#linked universe #yandere linked universe #yandere linked universe x reader #linked universe x reader #lu sky #acrylic writes

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bunnie-online · 7 months

Text

love you like me. {A.S.}

part one || read while listening

warnings: modernAU, OOC ani, rough, dubcon!!!!, fear kink (??), name calling, oral (f receiving) unprotected p in v (STAY SAFE YALL), slight breathplay

MINORS DNI || NOT EDITED

(ty for your patience !!)

"You know, you don't have to act out for me to prove it to you. You can just ask."

his breath on your ear was almost intoxicating. he lets out a mocking chuckle at your rigid body language.

“tch aww what’s wrong?” he leans in closer. “did you think i was oblivious to the way you look at me? you’re the most obvious person i’ve ever met.” his voice lulling you into a false sense of security for his next actions.

he suddenly wraps his large hand around your neck, your eyes roll into the back of your head momentarily as you let out a sigh. “ya know, one of the best parts about our annoyingly thin walls, is that i hear you gossiping with your friends about all the nasty, dirty things you like.” he whispers again. “stand up.” he orders you.

you follow his command, as your stood your legs wobbled slightly. he adjusted his grip to the back of your neck, pushing and guiding you down the hallway to his bedroom. “is this really happening right now?!” you thought to yourself, you’ve fantasized about Anakin having his way with you for the entire duration of your friendship. this feels too good to be true. you were ripped from your thoughts when Anakin roughly shoved you onto his bed, you landed face down.

you start turning onto your back when he grabs you and flips you over quicker. your eyes are wide, surprise, lust and a hint of terror are swirling around your irises. “aw, am i scaring you, baby?” he pouts, his voice full of artificial sympathy. you nod meekly, unable to form a coherent response.

“oh, sweet girl.” he leans in, gripping your cheeks with one hand. “i know you like it. desperate sluts like you love being scared.” your eyes widen again in pure shock. you’ve never heard Anakin speak this way before, the tone in his voice, the words he’s using. you knew he wasn’t completely innocent but you didn’t think he was this immoral.

“and” he climbs on top of you, his muscular arms on either side of your head. “you’re forgetting, doll. i know every. little. thing. about you.” he starts kissing your face, trailing down your jaw onto your neck. “these walls are thin, remember. i even know what speed you use on your vibrator.” Anakin laughs menacingly at your gasp. your face is a flushed as it gets.

“you can hear that?” you sputter out. “everything. i hear everything.” he answers, his hips starting to unconsciously grind down against you. “i’m gonna make you forget every other man who has ever touched you.”

Anakin climbs off of you to access your jeans. he pauses for a second, waiting for you to stop him, you give him a nod of approval. he might be ravaging you, but he still respects you.

after receiving permission, he unbuttoned your pants and pulled them off of you hastily, taking your panties with them. “oh you’re so beautiful.” he whispers almost to himself. “gonna make you addicted to me.” his words slurring, drunk on power and pleasure.

he grabs your ankles and yanks you towards him, your ass almost hanging off the bed. he drops to his knees and nuzzles his face between your legs. licking a long tantalizing stripe up your folds. you arch your back and pleasure and your hands tangle through his dirty blonde curls as he continues his ministrations. Anakin was good at this, way too good at this. not too long after he started, you were almost ready to let go. your breathing heavy and legs shaking. Anakin stopped his actions abruptly. the whine you let out was simply pathetic.

“shhh i know, baby i know.” he caressed your face. “ ‘m gonna make you cum, i promise. but i want you to cum on my cock.” he leans down to leave one last kiss on your heat. he stands up quickly, barely giving you time to adjust to any of his movements. before you knew it he was leaning over you, your knees tucked to your chest, and his cock just barely poking you.

“gonna make you feel good okay, baby? no one’s gonna ever make you feel the way i do.” he takes your face into his hand again softly stroking it, once again luring you in with gentle, loving hands before going in for the attack.

his hand comes up to cover your mouth and nostrils before he forces his cock into you. you let out a muffled scream. Anakin is the biggest you’ve ever had. not to mention the best, the way he’s moving his hips is making your head spin, but that could also be from the lack of air. there’s a very dull burn in your lungs due to your airways being cut off. you tap at his wrist twice and he moves his hand. you start gasping for air in between his harsh thrusts.

“you co-vered my nose! i co-uldn’t breathe!” your words coming out choppy due to Anakin’s hips pounding into yours. “i know.” he smirks knowingly. “now shut up and let me use you.” no one has ever used you like this before, you’ve certainly brought up your kinks to some of your hookups but most of them mainly let them go in one ear and out the other. all Anakin had to do was overhear your depraved little fantasies.

he covers your mouth again, this time he’s given you the gift of breathing. your pitiful whines and moans once again muffled by his large hand. you struggled to keep your eyes open, but you wanted to gaze at the gorgeous sight in front of you.

Anakin’s hair was almost covering his eyes, his mouth was hung slack, letting his moans just fall out. his toned abs contracting with each thrust. Anakin Skywalker is nothing less than a vision. he’s beyond beautiful.

your climax was rapidly approaching, Anakin’s earlier actions had such a heavy impact on you, you’ve never orgasmed this quickly with anyone else before. it usually takes a while of specific stimulation to get you off, but Anakin’s relentless pounding is everything you need right now, and he can tell. your walls squeezing down onto him, making his eyes roll backwards and his mouth drop even further. “that’s it, baby. that’s it. cum for me. cum on my cock, pretty girl.”

you wrap your hands around his wrists, digging your nails into the skin. your eyes go wide before snapping shut with your release, you almost see stars they closed so tightly. you velvety walls pulse down onto Anakin. causing his hips to stutter. he pulls out just in time for him to shoot cum onto your stomach. a harmony of your sounds of pleasure echo throughout the room.

Anakin finally releases your mouth and you pant, being granted the chance to catch your breath. he collapses on top of you, his arms shaking from holding up his body weight and the adrenaline pumping through his veins.

“you’re deleting those apps. those guys can’t compare to me.”

‘cocky’ you thought

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

AHH I HOPE THIS WAS OKAY!!! IM NOT USED TO WRITING ACTUAL SMUT IM SORRY😭

~bunnie

#bunnie online!#anis bunnie #bunnie after dark #smut #smut writing #anakin x reader #anakin skywalker smut #anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin smut #anakin skywalker x reader smut #anakin x you #anakin skywalker headcanons #anakin skywalker imagine #anakin fanfiction #star wars anakin #hayden christensen

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icyowl · 2 months

Text

Bluelock Cuddling headcanons

ft. Isagi, Chigiri, and Kunigami

Request: none

A/N: one of my racehorses won a race today so here’s a little gift to celebrate my good mood!

—————

Yoichi Isagi

the respectful kind

his favorite is half-cuddle — him on his back, you curled up into his side, head on his chest. Does his arm fall asleep? Absolutely. Will he stop? Never.

make his heart wobble any time you look up and about how much you like this — spending time with him, being close like this, knowing he cares about your opinion enough to ask so frequently for it.

Isagi is the kind that likes to cuddle the nights before a stressful thing. He gets to talk out his troubles and generally feel better about whatever anxieties he's got. Also, he genuinely seeks your life advice. He talks through his problems, that's who he is, and with you like this it feels like such a private time of vulnerability.

You habitually play with one another's fingers and hands. Usually it's sweet, but sometimes it devolves into thumb wars, arm wrestling, and even all out tickle battles. Sometimes he even lets you win

If he's lucky he can get you to fall asleep before he does. Reason? He likes watching you doze on him. Something about you falling asleep to the dip and rise of his chest makes him all giddy and humble at the same time.

Inevitably someone walks in on you two only to be greeted with the terror-inducing glare he pins them down with. Wake you up and they are not long for this world.

Hyoma Chigiri

the timid kind

go-to is the traditional spoon. It means you don't have to look at him and whatever embarrassment he's gotta be showing while being this close to you.

As time goes on, he starts to get almost too comfortable with it. On the phone? Playing a game? Fuckin' doing laundry? Doesn't matter. When he's lying on any bed or couch, there is a distinct bubble of space, and if you invade the bubble, you're within striking distance. His arms are nearly as fast as his legs. Chigiri will latch onto you, will pull you in, and will interrupt whatever it is you wanted to do so he can spoon you.

Rub his hand or intertwine fingers while he's got an arm draped over you and he is GONE

There have been times when he's pushed you away, and though it makes sense — he's always been the kind to close himself off, turn vile and harsh when he's hurting — it breaks you. When you're both ready to reconcile, somehow it ends with your back to his chest, his legs mixed with yours, and his warm hand holding you snug to his body.

Also likes this position because it lets him nuzzle in right on the wispy hairs at the bottom of your neck or the big vein on the side.

Turn the tables on him by flipping over in his grip and facing him head-on. It's also a nice way to get even closer to him when you've had a bad day. A kind of haven can be found in nestling under his chin. He's alright with this — it means you can't see his face and the obvious love-sick tint to his eyes.

Rensuke Kunigami

the kind that doesn't know his own strength

best likes the space-saver, aka, one person laying on top of the other. Boy doesn't care which of you is on top. He likes supporting your body or you supporting his — something about being the other person's strength makes the back of his head tingle.

first time he lays on you, he doesn't check his weight at all, just flops down. Immediately thinks he's broken you when you squeak. After that he's almost too wary about hurting you. Am I too heavy? Can you breathe okay? Do I need to get up? You can get on top if you want. Relax Kunigami, just don't fall from orbit and you'll be fine.

Icing on the cake is when you play with his hair. Dude could be angry as an ox, ready to rip someone in half, and two minutes of your fingers in his hair has him fighting to stay awake and spend time with you. What was he angry about again?

One time you fell asleep on his chest, all blissed out and comfy, only to wake up in a shiny puddle of your own drool. You were, understandably, mortified, but the embarrassment turns to affection when he casually disregards the whole thing: it's just a shirt, it'll dry.

You figured you repaid the favor when several weeks later he was one on top of you, head burrowed unceremoniously into your stomach, arms underneath your back, refusing to look up or speak. The reason revealed itself when he finally met your eyes.

Tears. Tiny sniffs too. Four words: I failed my team. That was all he said before digging his face back into your skin. It took time, and a lot of encouragement, but he did eventually snap out of the funk and even apologized for messing up your clothes. It'll dry, you said, and you shared a little snicker.

#isagi x reader #chigiri x reader #kunigami x reader #bluelock x reader #cuddling headcanons #fluff

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eshayteaparty · 2 months

Text

Security, Tranquillity

~Fandom(s): Hazbin Hotel

~Warning(s): swearing

~Ship(s): Huskerdust (Husk x Angeldust)

Starring teen!reader

~Word count: 1,830 (estimate)

Based off of this ask: parental huskerdust w a teen reader who has a knack for staying up late because of insomnia. Usually staying up with Husk and Angel whenever he gets back from work, you can do whatever with it. (creds to @maddiigascarrr) <33

~In which no matter how hard you try, and how safe the hotel is, you just can’t sleep. Neither can your two ‘dads’, but they plan to help you to the best of their ability (because they want to drink themselves senseless and don’t want you around to see that).

-♥+♥.♥.♥.♥.♥.♥.♥.♥.♥.♥.♥.♥.♥.♥.♥.♥.♥.♥.♥+♥-

To be in your youth was to be in your prime. To be energetic, fun-loving, innocent and easy to influence. Unfortunately, as you had been sent to hell for whatever reason while living out this time, there were a lot of opportunities you were missing out on. Like making friends at a school, where everybody was around your age. Despite the semi-normal life Charlie Moringstar strived to provide for you, down here you still lived in constant fear. At any moment, it felt as if you could be snatched up and taken off to Satan knows where, and not a sinner would notice. The terror of this concept brought on nightmares…which then brought on insomnia.

Every second night you would wake up screaming, or for no reason at ungodly hours, which frightened you into staying awake. You were somewhat of a universal treasure in terms of inside the hotel, so when your fellow residents took notice of this problem (and had it unwillingly wake them up time and time again), they started doing everything they could to fix it.

Charlie had been the first one to notice. She had gotten Lucifer to fashion you a plush toy duck that glowed softly in the dark. Though he had promised you it would ward off any ‘spookers’, as he had called your issues, it had ended up making a shadow in the corner of the room look an awful lot like a monster. Back to the drawing board.

After that, Alastor had commissioned Rosie to knit you a soft blanket, much to Charlie’s delight. True to his word, it was comfortable and warm, but the patterns on it weren’t the most….age-appropriate. To be fair, Alastor hadn’t given her much for the design. Another cross on the endless list of empty solutions.

As you got used to hell and the people there, your problem got a little easier to stand. You were kept in good company- adults who were all at least semi-fond of you. And none of them really seemed murderous at all. Still, there was no telling what went on at night, and that was a heavy ‘what-if’, so you stayed up.

Every.

Single.

Night.

After your last few experiences with Husker and Angeldust you had decided they were your favourite sinners there. Angel was funny and sweet and pushed crude jokes aside when it came to you for the most part, and Husk had this underlying fatherly aura about him- even if he was a crusty old bartender. So, when you found yourself unable to rest, as was your reality the majority of other times, you would go to the bar, sit up, and either listen to the duo’s banter or talk their respective ears off. This was one of those nights.

When Husker first saw you approaching the bar in your pyjamas with your hands fidgeting together, he wanted to turn you around and send you right back to bed. He didn’t mind your company, but a bar wasn’t a place for kids. Especially not at night. However, residents were still scarce around here. It wasn’t much of a problem, as long as you let him work.

He watches you sit up, his ears twitching slightly. He sniffs in acknowledgement.

“More bad dreams, kiddo?”

You nod, rubbing your eyes and sniffling as you rest your elbows up on the countertop. Husker sighs softly, and rubs his paw through your hair, giving your head gentle scratches. “It’ll be okay. You’ll get over it eventually, I know it. You’re strong, little buddy.”

Beside you sits Angel, who is there just about as much as you. He rubs one of his hands over your shoulder, leaning in to lightly place his chin on your shoulder. “You’ll be okay, toots. I’ve seen ya gettin’ better.” he lifts his head back up. “Fuck, it just makes ya wish one of us was the sandman or some shit, huh? Or there were any normal sleep drugs down ‘ere. Wonder if the big boss could use sum’a his fancy ass magic to lull ya into….er…slumber.” Husker snorts.

“...mister Lucifer?” you confirm sleepily, and the bartender nods.

“He made you that duck thingy, and…well…this entire fuck- I mean…this hotel. Surely he could knock you out if ya asked.”

You shake your head, carding your hands through your unruly hair and rubbing the dark circles under your eyes with your pinkies. “Don’t wanna. Don’t want his magic in my head.”

Husker chews his lip, then shrugs, turning back around to fix a drink for you- alcohol free, of course. “Whatever you say.”

Angel pets the space in-between your shoulder blades. He notices that each time your eyes start to flicker, you slam your little fist on the countertop and force yourself to stay conscious. Your head looks like it weighs a thousand pounds. It probably feels that way too.

“Hey.”

You turn to him, and he takes your chin in one of the hands on his lower pair of arms. “When was the last time ya actually got a full night’a sleep, bubs?”

“...” you rack your brain as best you can while sleep-deprived, and come up inevitably with nothing. You shake your head at him. “Can’t remember.”

Angel looks upset. He knows how it feels to be afraid to sleep at night from terrors lingering over him from the day.

“Still squeamish, huh?” you nod. “But…ya know that you are…safe. Here. don’t ya?” you nod again. “So what’s the problem?”

Husk pushes a little glass of juice towards you from the opposite side of the counter. He smiles slightly at you, hoping to reassure. “On the house.”

Your attention is drawn back to Angeldust, and your fingers twitch and tremble as you try to find a way to summarise your reason.

“I-I-” you swallow, gripping a fistful of your pyjama shirt. “I’m scared. Of…here. This place. It’s hot, and red, and ....b-bloody…” your bottom lip starts to tremble against your will, and Angel pulls you into his lap, rubbing your biceps. “I w-wanna go home. Somebody’s gonna g-get me when I’m sleeping, I know it! I saw Radio eat those shark guys when Mimzy came!”

“Shh.” Angel cuddles you so much it feels like you’re being squished. Half of him has a mind expecting you to squeal like a dog toy. “S’okay, alright? You’ve gotta good gang here, y/n. You’ve got me, Whiskers, Charlie, mister Morningstar. I mean, hell! You’re under the protection of the head of this shitshow himself!”

“But I c-can’t go to sleep!” your voice wavers, turning quiet and weak. You sound much younger than you are. “I can’t! I see all the demons in my dreams! They won’t go away!”

By now, Husk has walked around the bar to hug you along with Angel, wrapping up the three of you in a warm and furry embrace. As you start to cry, the two of them are right there with you, hearing you out on every word you utter from your chapped lips. You find you like cuddling up to them, even though they’re both furry enough to make a whole rug out of.

Once your sniffling has ceased enough for you to form a comprehensible sentence, Angel coaxes you into looking up at him again. “Are ya really havin’ trouble, dolly?”

You nod tearfully, looking down at the floor in embarrassment. You wish you'd stayed long enough on earth to outgrow this.

Angel glances at Husk, and smirks softly, then looks back at you, brushing away your hair from your damp cheeks. “Then come ta’ bed with us, okay? We’ll keep ya safe. I promise.”

You gasp, and your eyes fill with hope and relief. “R-really?” Husk carefully smothers you in his wings, bundling you up and taking you from Angel.

“Uh-huh. Cmon, y/n. We can’t leave you like this. You’re out here every night, not even first in command has a solution.” He starts to walk with you in his arms, and Angel in tow, looking around the hotel in the dark. He never really goes to bed anymore, in favour of spending day and night at the bar and getting piss drunk every second night. He can clean up the rest of the dishes later.

The two men both walk up the stairs with you, then down the hallway towards Angel’s bedroom. Angel pulls back the cover on his bed, dusting off the mattress protector. “Gotta make sure there’s no coke in the sheets…”

“Angel.”

“Sorry!” he makes a motion for Husk to tuck you in, and he does, laying you down with your head on the pillow. Angel’s bed smells like alcohol, and he seems to notice that you’re not a fan. He opens his drawer, and sifts through it, taking out a perfume. “This’ll make shit a lot better.”

As he’s about to aim it into the air, Husker gently but firmly grasps his wrist. “Don’t. Not that one.”

“Why not?! Don’t you love the smell of Hello Kitty?!”

He tries to take the perfume away, but Angel is holding it above his head. “Don’t you dare fuckin’ spray that, Legs! That shit is toxic!”

Angel presses the button on the perfume, letting Hello Kitty body spray into the air and making the room smell like cotton candy and chemicals. You hide your nose in Angel’s duvet.

“What?” Angel looks to the both of you, tossing up his upper pair of arms. “It’s fresh!”

“Smells like a damn plastic carnival in here now.” Husk covers his nose, his whiskers twitching. “For fuck’s sake. The kid doesn’t even like it.”

You start to giggle despite yourself, and Angel quickly follows suit, the both of you just on his bed laughing. Husker sighs softly, and reaches over Angel, carefully untying his bowtie. “Want the rest off?” Angel nods. Husk gets him to shrug off his blazer, and Angel replaces it with a light pink sleep shirt of his own. He brushes a hand through the fluff on his head, which always looks so soft.

“S’hot t’night, isn’t it, y/n? Still wanna cuddle?” he opens his arms, and to his mild surprise, you’re right there with him, Husk joining beside you after setting his outer accessories to the side. He curls his wings around you and Angel, flicking off the lava lamp beside the spider demon’s bed. They both look down at you.

“...if ya ever feel afraid, y/n…for anything…” Anthony runs his finger slowly under your chin, “that’s okay. It’s okay to be scared, ya know why? Cuz this’s a scary place. With scary people. But in every bad, cuore mio, there’s a good. And this hotel, this is the good.”

Husk looks adoringly at Anthony, his flaxen eyes twinkling in the dark. After welcome gazing, he meets your own.

“We’re gonna be right here when you wake up, kid.” he says gruffly, petting your back as your eyelids grow heavier and your head slowly flops into Angel’s torso, marking him as your pillow for the night.

“Whenever that may be.”

For the first time in weeks…your mind was put to peace. With these two polar opposites, you had found a home. Whether it was to be temporary or everlasting, only time would tell. But you had tonight, and that was all that mattered.

To nobody's surprise but your own, you woke up unscathed.

-♥+♥.♥.♥.♥.♥.♥.♥.♥.♥.♥.♥.♥.♥.♥.♥.♥.♥.♥.♥+♥-

I hope this adds up, I kinda made it into a fear of sleeping rather than insomnia but the original ask plot is still there. I hope this was good xx thankyou for reading

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justauthoring · 1 year

Text

catalyst.

*catalyst: a person or thing that precipitates an event.

pairing: manjirou “mikey” sano x f!reader

a/n: i have no idea where this is supposed to take place in the canon timeline lol, i just want to write something angst for mikey and i find his character so fascinating.

warnings: kisaki lol, death.

You were the catalyst for everything.

Kisaki Tetta knew that now.

Months of carefully crafted plans repeatedly ruined; his everlasting plan to mold Mikey into the perfect leader for the gang he envisioned had failed right before his own eyes more times than he could count on one hand. Forced to watch as it all fell apart and he’d been made to look like a fool in front of those he demanded respect from enough to have Kisaki fuming with humiliation and anger.

The worst part? You didn’t even know it.

It wasn’t like you’d figured him out, or had any suspicions like he knew a few others did. You were none the wiser to Kisaki, and every time you had interacted with him, you’d been nothing but completely pleasant and warm. You, with your bright smile and twinkling eyes and that sweet voice of yours that could carry on for hours without fault. You were friendly, incredibly so, able to talk to anyone and everyone and never stumble over your words or wonder what to say. People gravitated towards you, and you let them.

Kisaki was just another face that you greeted occasionally, a member of your boyfriends organization that you always made sure to show respect to. You didn’t have a single idea of what darkness resided in Kisaki’s mind or the things he wanted to do, specifically to your boyfriend.

But you were warm and you were glowing, an ethereal presence amongst Mikey that constantly pulled him back in when he slipped just a little too far into the darkness. Mikey’s eyes shined when he was with you, even had a sparkle of life to them as he smiled at you, giddy and completely in love, and all it took was the mere mention of you, and Mikey would remind himself of who he was and that was that.

Mikey had lost more than he could process, but he still had you.

Kisaki knew that now, as he watched Mikey dote on you, a single poke on your nose that had you blushing as you wiped at the crumbs on the corner of your lips of the snack he’d given you. Mikey never shared with anyone – well, anyone but you. And Kisaki felt positively sick as he watched the two of you, a pure hatred that was so unfairly focused completely on you, a glint in his gaze as let his eyes wander across the reason for all of his failings.

You were the reason for everything, and Kisaki had every intention of changing that.

You were a piece of the puzzle that was no longer needed.

Fingers digging into Mikey’s jacket, you hold fast, feeling the wind whip through your hair, making your eyes sting and your heart race.

Mikey’s laughing, blissfully unaware of the deep fear coursing through your veins as you press your face into his back and shut your eyes. He’d told you this would be fun, and even if you’d been skeptical, you’d believed him. You know how Mikey loves going on rides and you always felt bad that you never go with him; so you’d mustered up your courage and pushed back your fear and agreed to go on one with him.

You were now severely regretting that fact.

If it had been anyone else, you would’ve screamed at them to stop. But you hold back your own terror for Mikey’s sake, trying to take pleasure in the feeling of being so close to him and ignore the way you constantly feel like you’re about to be taken by the wind and go flying off.

When Mikey finally stops, you accept his hand with shaky legs, gripping onto him tightly enough so that you don’t fall flat on your face.

“It wasn’t that bad, was it?” Mikey lightly laughs, taking in the paleness of your skin and the way you can barely stand.

“It was awful,” you huff, bracing yourself against the wall slightly away from him. “I’ve never been more scared before in my life.”

But Mikey just smiles; “I’d never let anything happen to you.”

And your eyes fall on him, stunned by his confession as your lips part and a soft blush falls across your cheeks. But still, despite your surprise, your answer comes with ease; “of course,” you nod, “I know.” Then, almost like an afterthought, you can’t help but pout. “Doesn’t make it any less scary though.”

He makes his way over to you, brushing back a strand of hair that had fallen in your face, letting his fingers run through your hair with a fond smile that is only ever reserved for you. You find yourself mesmerized with the way he stares at you, gaze so soft, so adoring that it takes your breath away every time you’re faced with it.

Only Mikey can ever make you feel this way; an indescribable warmth that flows through you and makes your insides feel like butterflies and your legs feel like jelly (even more than they already do). Mikey had a way about him, always has, for as long as you’ve known him, his charm is soft and gentle but it makes you a blushing mess every single time.

You’d do anything Mikey asked of you – that you’re sure of.

“Was it that scary?”

You concede at that, shoulders falling; “no,” you admit, unable to say anything else with the way he’s looking at you. “Just takes some getting used to.”

His face brightens then, a kid-like glow of excitement washing over his face. “You’ll go on a ride with me again then?”

If it had been anyone else, you would’ve said no; unable to deny the way your heart is still racing and you feel like throwing up.

But, this is Mikey.

“Of course.”

You were entirely too trusting.

Mikey had told you that a million times, that you shouldn’t be, exasperated at the way you trusted anyone's word and simply said yes to anything someone asked of you. It didn’t matter who and it didn’t matter what; if you were capable of helping, you would.

It’s why when Kisaki asks you to follow him, saying he wants your help for a surprise he’s working on for Mikey, you just smile and nod, letting him lead you away. You’re blissfully unaware of the dark, looming threat that peers over your shoulder. The smirk on Kisaki’s face is perceived as a smile, and you mimic one back to him, head tilted and eyes crinkled in warmth as you nod, not even questioning when Kisaki leads you into what looks like an abandoned building.

He must just want to keep the surprise secret, you figure.

And you continue to think nothing of it until there’s a smack against the back of your head, and your vision blurs, body wobbling as Kisaki’s name leaves your lips in a echoed gasp of a mixture of surprise and pain, collapsing on the ground with a resounding thud. Your vision continues to darken until it turns black completely, the last thing you’re able to register is Kisaki's looming figure over your own, that same smirk that suddenly looks more sinister than you remember it looking staring back at you.

You’re fourteen when Mikey kisses you for the first time.

You’re both young, stupid teenagers that barely know what commitment really means or what the weight of a relationship is supposed to promise. But you don’t really care either way. You’re completely smitten with Mikey, unable to tear yourself from his side, wanting to spend every waking moment with him, even if that involves simply following him around.

And Mikey feels the exact same.

It’s why he kisses you that day after school.

He can’t hide his feelings anymore. You erupt a fire in him that he can’t ignore, this itch to be closer, be more with you… When Mikey pulls you from class that day, tugging you all the way outside until he tucks you into a corner away from prying eyes, he doesn’t even say anything before his lips press against your own. And yet, there’s not even a moment of hesitation from you. The kiss is a shock, Mikey knows that, but when his lips press against your own, you’re responding with as much want as him.

The kiss is messy, sloppy and just what you’d imagine two fourteen year old's to kiss like.

It’s still the best kiss of your life though.

When Mikey pulls away, he’s breathless, chest rising and falling with every breath he inhales and you’re bright red, embarrassed but completely euphoric at the fact that Mikey had finally, finally kissed you.

You giggle when he meets your eyes and he grins wide.

It’s the first time you see that sparkle in his eyes you haven’t seen since his brother's death, a bit of life returning to his gaze as you set your hand on your cheek. Your touch is gentle, unsure at first, before you let yourself relax, petting his cheek with your thumb, unable to tear your eyes away from his own.

Mikey can’t either.

“I love you,” you admit, breathless.

And he says it back too, just as breathless. Just as smitten. “I love you too.”

You’re both fourteen. Young and dumb and teenagers.

And yet, you know you mean it when you tell him you love him.

You know he means it too.

You’re not returning his texts.

You never go more than a few hours without texting him back. But it’s been two days.

At first Mikey had tried to convince himself you were just busy – he remembered you saying you had a lot of work to catch up on and so he eases his mind with that; you’re just busy.

But when you’ve been busy in the past, it hasn't stopped you from texting him back. Even a simple “hey <3”.

Mikey starts to panic. Time starts to tick and the panic worsens, this weight pressing on his chest, making it hard for him to breathe. He can’t think straight, he can’t eat, can’t sleep, can’t do anything but worry about where you are. He wants to hold you, wants to have you close, kiss you… anything. He doesn’t care what, Mikey just needs you.

He cannot lose you.

It’s a fact he knows without even the slightest bit of doubt. Mikey perhaps understands himself better than most think he does – he’s not stupid enough to not realize the dark thoughts that course through his mind. He’s found himself slipping into them more than he can count, shrouded in darkness repeatedly, and the person that has always brought him back was you.

Always you.

Smiling at him, calling for him, hands on his cheeks as you kiss him so passionately, with love unlike he’s ever felt before.

After all he’s lost, all he’s suffered.., sure, he still has his friends… still had Toman. But through the darkness, you’re always on the other side of it, the light at the end of the tunnel, and Mikey knows without a doubt that you are what’s holding him together.

He cannot lose you.

A knock on his door pulls himself from his thoughts. His eyes snap to the door as it slowly opens, Draken’s head popping through.

Mikey straightens, shoulders tensing.

“We found her,” Draken says, “we know where she is.”

The fact that Draken doesn’t elaborate doesn’t escape Mikey, but he hardly cares. The mention of finding you is all that matters and he’s jumping to his feet before he even realizes, grabbing his jacket on the way; “where.” His voice is dark, sharp, demanding the answer right then and there.

He needs to get to you.

“An abandoned building just twenty minutes from here,” Draken explains, eyes never leaving Mikey. He continues to watch him, silent, until Mikey moves to step past him and then Draken’s hand falls on his shoulder, grip tight, halting his steps. “Mikey.”

His voice is low, thick.

Mikey hesitates, eyes turning to his friend, a glare set on his features; “what?”

“What happens if you find her there and she’s…” Draken doesn’t even want to say it. You’re his friend too. “What if she’s dead?”

“She’s not.”

And Mikey isn’t even sure if he believes the words. The fear is crawling up the back of his throat and he’s finding it hard to focus on anything other then this horrible feeling welling deep within him.

“We don’t know who took her, we don’t even know why.” Draken reminds, desperate for him to listen, for Mikey’s sake more than anything. “Mikey…”

“She’s alive,” Mikey says, eyes never turning away from Drakens. “I know it.”

Mikey knew from the moment he saw you, you were the one.

Tears pouring down your face, cheeks red, snot-nosed, your pretty pink blouse all mucked up with dirt and mud – and yet, you stand strong, tall, in front of the boys who’d kicked you down in the first place. You’re scared, shaking, but you don’t let it show in your face. Through the tears, your glare is harsh and your lips are set tight, in a straight line, and you don’t waver from your position.

Behind you, a kitten is curled up on the ground.

Mike doesn’t even really understand it. Doesn’t even realize he’s moved until he has. There’s four boys surrounding you, cornering you, moving to grab at you, pull at you, hurt you and despite knowing that, you don’t move. Your focus is wholly on the cat behind you, desperate to keep it safe, and Mikey likes the way you stand up even if you have no chance of winning.

Even if you’ve already lost.

Reminds him of someone he knows.

He knocks the four boys down with ease. Two of them go down before they even realize what’s happening, and even then the other two don’t manage to do much before they get a nasty kick to their faces, sending them flying and landing straight in the dirt. When they get up, it’s in fear and all four of them go running without even a single glance in your direction.

When it’s just the two of you, MIkey stares back at you only to see you staring at him with awe.

The tears have since dried on your cheeks, just a stained reminder, but you’re no longer sniffling or shaking. Instead, your eyes are glowing with admiration and your fists are clenched in front of you tightly in excitement.

“Can you teach me how to do that?”

Mikey blinks at you, that having been the last thing he expected.

But then, as the surprise fades, he finds himself laughing; “you wouldn’t be able to kick like me.” He says it in with a air of cockiness, hands falling on his hips as he stares back at you.

You pout then, clenching your fists at your side; “I so could!” You declare, “just because I’m a girl, doesn’t mean I can’t fight.”

And Mikey, oddly, believes you.

He doesn’t say anything in response, though, simply lets his gaze lower, to the cat behind you, and it takes you a moment, but slowly you follow his gaze, reminded of why you’d been there in the first place. Your entire demeanor changes then, face softening and body easing as you scoop the cat up in your arms. It doesn’t fight you, easing into the warmth of another, and you pet it softly, hushing it.

“Is it your cat?”

You turn back to Mikey at his question, shaking your head; “no. Just saw them kicking at her,” you explain with a frown. “It’s just a cat.” And it’s simple; as if that’s all the explanation you needed.

It is.

“Yeah,” Mikey shrugs, eyeing the nasty bruise on your cheek, “but you got hurt because of it.”

“I’d rather get hurt than let someone who can’t defend themselves get hurt.” you huff, as if that’s obvious. But the annoyance from your face fades as you turn back to him, beaming brightly as you meet his eyes. “Besides, you came to save me anyways.”

You send him a toothy grin, and Mikey blinks, face falling with bafflement as he stares back at you.

He... saved you?

“My hero,” you grin, without wavering confidence. You say it like you’ve known Mikey for years, as if this wasn’t the first the two of you have spoken, like you have no doubt in your mind that Mikey will continue to do just that -- save you.

Then you add, a toothy grin on your lips, “until I can learn to fight like you.”

To be honest, Mikey finds he likes being your hero.

He finds you too late.

You’ve bled out, stabbed twice. Your hands are tied behind your back, your mouth gagged, dried tears streaming from your eyes, staining your cheeks. Your skin is pale, eyes lifeless, and even as Mikey pulls you into his arms, freeing your arms, you don’t move. You don’t say anything.

You're dead.

He’d been too late.

Draken who stands behind him doesn’t say anything. Nor does the rest of Toman. His friends stay eerily silent, some crying, some in shock, but no one moves. No one says a single thing.

Mikey feels like he’s floating. He’s staring at you, he knows you're dead, can feel your body growing cold in his arms, but he finds himself unable to say anything. When his hands move to remove your gag, there’s a moment where everything freezes.

A long, terrifying moment where nothing happens.

And then he feels his eyes watering and his vision blurring when, as seconds pass, you still don’t move.

Mikey knows you’re dead, somewhere deep in the back of his mind. Of course he does. But half of him still expects you to move, to say something, to smile at him, with those eyes of yours he loves; a stupid, naïve part of him that can’t accept that you are dead. Because, you can’t be. Any moment now, you’d move, smile at him, say his name and it’d all be okay.

You don’t, of course, you’re completely still in his arms, limp and unmoving and gone.

Just gone.

He’s sobbing. Mikey doesn’t even realize it.

He’s screaming your name, screaming for you.

Mikey doesn’t hear himself.

Your hero.

What a joke.

And as his world darkens, and everything slips away from him, he’s unaware of the glinting eyes that stare at his back.

Everything happened according to plan. Finally.

#tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers imagines #tokrev #tokrev x reader #mikey #mikey x reader #mikey imagine #manjiro sano #manjiro sano x reader

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mothwingwritings · 4 months

Note

Hi hi~ hope you are doing great today xD

Sooo First of all I love how you write and I have been binge reading yujiro stepfather serie(?) And absolutely love it; but stepdad yujirou + Baki and jack the yandere/siscon stepbrothers could you imagine like:

*Katsumi became her eternal friend but feels like he can't be with y/n, so ends up as her loyal/platonic companion or ends up as a teacher and friend and go on with life because yujirou is hell of strong and Sadie to pummel him again

*yujirou marries s/o and impregnate her, but y/n gives love to the child because she doesn't want him/her to suffer like her brothers

*yujirou wanted to rill up his son's and knowing their dark yandere side put the scenario on so the two end up taking her as well

*Baki and jack won't left her until she at least have s baby of each because hanma bloodline and a sense of twisted family

*and what would happen if pickle also gets interested? How would he reacts with y/n pregnant or with kids and with the scent of the hanma's? Would he tried to kill the kids like the lion in a new pride? Or just add them to the family and put his seed too? And the hanma's what would they do?

*oh and what happened with the ash tray

Sorry for the long feel free to ignore

I love your brain, darling~

Warnings: Stepcest, breeding kink, mentions of child rearing/being a mother, mentions of noncom, 18+ only please.

If the two Hanma brothers didn’t have any kind of breeding kink before, seeing their sweet little sister heavy with child is about to change that REAL quick.

Don’t get them wrong, it makes their blood boil to witness you carrying some other man’s child, let alone Yujiro’s spawn. Seeing you grow each day, swelling with the ogre’s unborn infant, is enough to make them go damn near feral. The whole situation unleashes a torrent of emotions -rage, disgust, pity, vexation, and sympathy, all swirling together within the two of them, vying for dominance. They don’t know whether they wanted to give this kid the world (it was your child after all, and it wasn’t that they weren’t sympathetic to its situation, they probably knew the tribulations and hardships that baby was to face more so than anyone else) or completely disregard it (they just couldn’t shake where it came from, what brutality was committed against you to conceive it).

On one hand, how dare Yujiro force himself inside of you, planting a seed that will bind you to him irrevocably? It was maddening knowing you were trapped by Yujiro’s side, saddled down caring for his offspring. The ogre had you right where he wanted you now, stuck between a rock and a hard place, trapped just beyond the brothers reach.

But on the other hand, two can play at that game.

It was easy enough to convince you to come to them. You loved Baki and Jack. You respected them and you trusted them, you had no reason not to come to them willingly. You were always so eager to see them, so grateful for their companionship. The day they entrapped you, you approached the brothers with arms spread, heart bared, and eyes sparkling as you walked blindly into their trap.

The last thing they wanted was to hurt you, that was never their intention. But you just looked so beautiful when you were pregnant, full and round and glowing, like an angel had landed on earth. They were craving seeing you that way again, adamant that they would be the ones who would fill you with their seed, and you would be the one who would help them create a new life.

And you were such a good mother, doting on your baby with love and affection despite the circumstances of how they were conceived. Didn’t Jack and Baki deserve that too? Why did their monster of a father get the only honor? They certainly treated you better than he did, loved you far more than he ever could or would. And they would never treat their children the way the ogre had treated them growing up, disregarded, abused, or as petty amusements their whole lives. Yujiro was such a terror that the brothers tried to keep themselves from growing overly attached to the baby he had created with you, not only due to the mixed emotions they felt about the situation, but because they knew the likelihood of having an infant survive growing up around the Ogre was optimistic at best.

However Baki and Jack were not their father. Maybe they had to resort to underhanded methods to get to you, sinking down to Yujiro’s level to get you pregnant with their children, but the difference between themselves and that monster would always be the overwhelming affection they held for you. Even if you had trouble understanding what was going on, or couldn’t quite wrap your head around the fact that everything they did for you was for your own benefit and safety, they knew that the lives they were forging for you was what would ultimately make you the happiest and bring you the most joy, you just needed time to get used to it first to realize that. Seeing you waddle around fat with their baby’s is both brothers ultimate dream, and they will destroy anyone who tries to steal that from them, whether that be their father or otherwise. And unlike their father, any life they bring into this world with you will be cherished-the baby will essentially be half you, after all, how could they not adore it?

They know you will cry and feel betrayed and possibly even get a bit hurt should you try to deny them. But no matter what happens, they know you will forgive them because when it comes down to it, you love them just as much as they love you. They are ready and willing to give you all the time in the world to adjust, you are worth any amount of effort to keep happy.

(Also poor Katsumi, but I am glad he gets to be a homie at least lol. The eternal suffering that poor man receives through our prose…)

Now for our caveman situation…

Pickle knows there is something different about you, something that draws a family as strong as the Hanma’s to you. There’s a reason why they are all vying for your attention, eager to procreate with you, and your beguiling presence is not lost on him either. Should his interest become strong enough he’ll definitely snatch you away to create a brood of his own with you. He would become EXTREMELY overprotective of you while you were pregnant, monitoring you like a hawk to make sure you are comfortable and that there are no predators a foot to cause you any harm. When you are full of his children, he treats you more gently than you thought a beast like him possibly could. Were this a situation you were actually compliant in, you would almost call it charming how gently he handles you, or how quietly he tries to lumber his large body around you so as not to disturb you.

As for the other children you had previously… I feel like that is very dependent on the situation. He would not outright kill them by any means. Right now they are small, helpless, they don’t pose a threat to him and you care for them, he has no reason to take them from you nor does he really want to. Also, they have Hanma blood running through their veins and that intrigues him. What manner of person will they grow up to be, he wonders? The thought of watching such people grow, even have a hand in raising them or training them, was too interesting of a prospect to throw out the door.

THAT BEING SAID, his children with you will always take precedence over them. Should you find yourselves in a situation that requires him to choose who he needs to protect, you will always come first, followed by the children he sired with you, anyone else is nonconsequential. Though he has no true ill will towards the children, he certainly doesn’t harbor the love for them that he does his own offspring. He cares for the Hanma kids well enough, but base interest is about as far as it goes. If they starve, get hurt, or have to get sacrificed, so be it.

And Yujiro def still has that ashtray. For WHATEVER reason, even though it’s a shitty little trinket that was crudely made by the hands of your child self, he can’t seem to part from it. He even travels with it and uses it regularly. Weird, huh? I wonder why…

#i kinda popped off on this lol #thank you always for all the lovely ideas you guys send me #i live for them #heh heh heh #yandere baki x reader #yandere baki x y/n #yandere yujiro hanma x reader #jack hanma x reader #jack hanma x y/n #yujiro hanma x y/n #baki hanma x y/n #baki hanma x reader #here's a nice helping of some Hanma fam bs fresh from the oven mmm mmm mmm #also look at me #finally getting to answer asks asked forever ago #ty again!!! I had fun with this!!!#mothresponse

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h8ani · 7 months

Note

hi baby!!! this is for ur current event!!! ^^

i would like request numbers 38 and 41 in a childhood bestfriends to lovers (?) au with mitsuya from tr! <3

Nightmares

Pairing: Mitsuya Takashi x Reader

Anime: Tokyo Revengers

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: f!reader, reader has nightmares, takashi is sickeningly sweet in this

Hehehehe I finally finished this, I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it 🥹🥹 Feel free to request more!

Prompt List

You thought you had this under control, you really did, but the sweat on your palms and the way your breathing is staggered says otherwise. You’re usually able to calm yourself down and get back to sleep in an okay state, but you just couldn’t stop shaking, your heart was beating out of your chest and nothing you did could calm the static you felt in your body. Everything was tingly, it felt uncomfortable being in your bed, you felt uncomfortable being in your room, the nightmare that stays raging through your mind caused your cozy dimly lit room to form the terrors.

You didn’t want to resort to this but your body and feet willed you up and out of your bed. Fingers frantically turning your lights on causing your once dark room to be bright once again. The heartbeat that was once thumping in your ears had subsided, you could feel yourself calm down, though the shakiness in your body never settled. You stepped out of your room and walked to the opposite end of the apartment, feet shuffling quickly as the darkness in the apartment consumed you and you found yourself slipping in your roommate's room and closing the door faster than you meant to. The door shuts loudly and you mentally curse yourself and can only hope that you didn’t wake him up. You’re grateful his door was cracked open, it always is but you can only imagine how much louder you would’ve been if you had to open his door as well. You turn slowly, seeing his led lights glowing around his room brings a comfortable aura around you that the sigh that escapes you couldn’t be helped. You see Mitsuya sleeping peacefully, his head turned against his pillow and blankets covering most of his chest, you can’t help but feel bad for coming in unannounced now.

Mitsuya Takashi was your roommate for about two years now, though you’ve known him since you can remember. He was probably your closest friend thinking back on it, both of your mothers were childhood friends and they always laughed and said they’d do everything together. They went to the same school, had the same classes and coincidentally they got pregnant at the same time. You and Mitsuya were side by side all throughout life and even school, he even walked you back home before heading back to school to do his extracurricular activities. Once you both decided it was time to move out of your respective homes you both got a place together, you two have in simple terms been through everything together - although you’ve never had to wake him up in the middle of the night before.

You find yourself at the edge of his bed, he looks so peaceful you have half the mind to walk back out and deal with the after effects of your nightmare by yourself, but you knew it would just end up with you walking back to his room and finding yourself right where you left off.

“Takashi…” you mumble while slightly nudging him. He shifts by only a little, head rolling over to the other side. “Taka…Can I sleep here tonight?” You say louder, you can see him stir around more prominently while his head turns back to face you. His eyes slowly open and blink, it takes a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dim darkness that surrounds you. Once he finally sees you he lifts the blankets up giving you the silent okay to slip in.

You waste no time in getting under his blankets and cuddling up against him. He was warm like a furnace and you took all the warmth you could get. Your arms wrap around his waist while his arm settles around your shoulders and pulls you into him. “I’m sorry.” You apologize, unsure if the sudden heat you feel is because of your embarrassment or because of how warm he is. “I know your tired and this won’t-”

“Shh.” He quickly shushes you and closes his eyes once again.

“But-”

“I said shh.” His other hand reaches over and rubs your back, trying to soothe any anxieties you seem to have brought with you. You bite your tongue and don’t say anything else, just being around him soothed you enough that your body feels relaxed again. The tingling of your skin subsided along with just how tight your chest was feeling when you were in your own room.

Mitsuya didn’t mind you waking him up, he’s never been one to sleep through the night nor go to bed early anyways so a little disturbance of sleep by you was nothing that upset him. If he was being honest, having you by his side right now was a comfortable feeling to have.

You were quiet in his arms, you hadn’t made a sound since he shushed you and he thinks you’ve finally fallen back to sleep; your breathing had evened out and even the grip you had on him loosened. He opens his eyes, glancing down to you only to see your eyes wide open. He sighs, he turns his body so he’s now facing you all while scooting down the bed so he’d be eye level. His eyes meet your own, he could tell there were plenty of thoughts running rampant as you could barely keep up the contact, your own gaze falling somewhere else. When you meet his eyes seconds later his expression changed, face now scrunched up as he pondered over what to say.

After so many years of knowing you, he’s never known about your nightmares. Not once have you mentioned it to him or shown a sign that you were struggling. How long have you been struggling with this? He could have been there for you like he is tonight, held you against his chest and consoled you like he’s done for other things. Why didn’t you confide in him for this?

“What else are you keeping from me?” His words come out before he could properly think, mind still foggy from waking up not too long ago. The expression that graces your face can only be described in his words as adorably confused, your eyes widen, eyebrows furrow and lips pout.

“I don’t keep secrets from you.” You defend.

“You kept this from me.” Mitsuya shoots back, eyebrows raising as he looks at you. He can’t help but scan your entire face being so close to you.

“It’s not a-”

“If it’s not a big deal then you wouldn’t be in my bed unable to sleep.” He sees your mouth open and then close. You had nothing to argue with when you knew he was correct. A sigh slips past his lips. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

“No…”

Now it’s his turn to be the silent one. He’s unsure of what to say to you, unable to form the words he needs to reassure you and your mind. His eyes look elsewhere as his hand runs up and down your arm, it’s soothing to you; his hand was warm against your cold skin.

You stare at him, his eyes focused on something else. It looks as if he was lost deep in thought, concentrating on not making any eye contact with you. The low shade of the led lights that were cascading against his features made him look like he should be painted and shown off in a museum for everyone to see, though you’re happy it’s only you seeing him right now. He was attractive dare you say it, especially right now

His touch is soft, all of his touches are soft when it comes to you which you’ve noticed. It’s such a contrast as to how he perceives himself to others and what his life has been like.

Mitsuya never had the ideal home life, his mother worked late most nights so he had to take the roles of both a mother and father due to his father not being in the picture either. You’d always lend out a hand when you could, inviting him and the girls to your house to eat and relax if they didn’t want to be home alone; sleepovers were a constant thing even when you both were well into your teenage years.

You were never one for liking him being apart of the gang he was in, always calling you late at night with cuts and bruises because he didn’t want his sisters to see, you’d be at his house waiting for him while every meeting happened, you can still remember the anxiety you’d felt when he mentioned he’d be back late or if there were fights going on at the time. Mitsuya had a temper to him, easily controlled but he did have his slip ups. He’s snapped at others around you when he’d be too pissed off or just frankly annoyed with the world, but he never snapped at you. He was always soft and gentle when it came down to you.

All those times where you locked yourself in your room crying hysterically because of an insignificant high school boyfriend cheated on you, broke up with you and played with your heart he was there consoling you. He’d engulf you in his arms bringing you to his lap while he rubbed small circles into your back trying to calm you down in any way. He held you like you were fragile and he couldn’t dare to break you. Mitsuya cared about you and couldn’t help but be soft with you even despite everything he’s been through.

Your face felt as if it was set ablaze just thinking of him in such ways, he’s your best friend, always has been closer to you than anyone else. You wouldn’t dare ruin that with any thoughts of finding him attractive, even though pressed up against him and the way he’s staring so intently at you is giving you butterflies in the pit of your stomach. No. It’s just the anxiety of sleeping again, yeah that’s it. Just anxiety. No butterflies at all.

You're pulled out of your thoughts once his hand cups your cheek, you suddenly realize just how close the two of you are. Your senses came in full swing as all you could feel was the soft brush of his breath against your lips, the smell of his spearmint toothpaste he used before bed and the way his fingers grazed your cheek; rough yet soft finger pads against your smooth skin. “What are you thinking about?” He asks.

You.

“Nothing.”

“Still can’t sleep?” He smiles lazily at you, fingers still lightly touching your cheek. You shake your head in response. “What can I do for you?”

The sudden tension that wraps around you two tightens. Your eyes meet his yet no words seem to form in your tongue. What could you say to that? You didn’t know what to say. What did he expect you to say? Your mind was racing and the sudden tightness in your chest caused your body to stiffen.

His hand slides from your cheek to the back of your neck, fingers once again rubbing small circles there too. You held your breath feeling his hand settle on your nape. Mitsuya’s eyes glanced from your lips to your eyes, a quiet chuckle leaving him. “Relax.”

“I am.” You pout.

“Relax more.”

Your eyebrows knit together. “How?” you ask, you were molded into him against his bed. As far as you knew this was the most relaxed you’ve been.

A thought crosses his mind, something he didn’t know if he should smack himself for or applaud for even coming up with it in the first place. Would he be so low as to try this? He’s never crossed any boundaries nor would he ever want to, especially with how you came to him tonight. You were the closest one in his life, he loved you dearly, you were his best friend, but…

“Close your eyes.” He finally gets out, confusion crosses your features once again tonight.

“What?”

“Close your-”

“I heard what you said, but why?”

“I’m helping you relax, just trust me.” He says finally, his words do little to actually help you relax but it’s Takashi, if he says to trust him then you trust him with everything in you.

Your eyes show hesitation but you close them regardless. He watches as you squeeze them shut, a smile can’t help but appear on his face while he watches you. The hand on your neck finds its way into your hair, gently massaging the back of your head, he watches your face relaxes while practically melting into his hand. “Relaxed now?” You nod slightly, head feeling heavier in his hand.

You do feel relaxed, your body melts into his own as you subconsciously lean into him. His hands working at your scalp have you zoning out to only focus on his touch against you so that you miss the way he scoots closer until you feel his lips on yours. Your eyes shoot open just to see him pull away.

“Sorry…I just-”

“Do that again…” your voice is barely above a whisper yet he hears you interrupt him regardless. If he wasn’t so close to you he would’ve missed what you said.

He stares at you, almost as if he’s waiting for you to take it back. The pout is back on your face as he looks at you. Your hands slip to his sides tugging him closer, a neediness coming out of you.

“It’ll help me relax…if you kiss me again.” Your big puppy dog eyes look at him and a smile reforms on his face. He could never deny you when you look like that.

“Promise?” You nod quickly, face perking up instantly.

You felt the flex of his hand before seeing him lean in, his grip tightening as he pulled you to him. The kiss was sweet and gentle despite his grip on your neck, he was holding you so close and tight while his lips moved against your own. Your hands slid up from his sides to his bare chest while finally placing themselves on his shoulders, fingers slightly digging into him grasping a hold to center yourself. Your mind was in a frenzy from such a soft and sweet act alone.

He pulled away sooner than you’d like and you find yourself chasing his lips. “One more.”

“We should sleep.” His hand went from your neck back to your cheek, caressing it lovingly while looking at you.

“One more then we’ll go to sleep.” You batted your eyes at him, that same pout gracing your face once again.

Mitsuya knew that there was no sleep anywhere in his future.

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crybaby-bkg · 1 year

Text

Arranged marriage AU with Barbarian Bakugou who is so daunting to be around at first. He’s all gruff curses and broad shoulders and scarred cheeks and neck and jaw. He scowls constantly, stares at you while your parents auction you off like some show pig, but doesn’t say much to you besides a grunt of his name. You’re terrified, thinking that he’ll be cruel to you, that you’re being set up for a life full of unhappiness and terror and regret.

But he’s the exact opposite. Bakugou is gentle in ways a man of his size typically wouldn’t be, but he shrinks himself for you. Not in a way that diminishes his status as the newly appointed king, but to respect you, show you that you’re beside him instead of behind him.

He picks you berries on his hunts because he knows the smell of a fresh kill brings nausea to your stomach. You find him along with the other maidens and helpers around his village, sitting beside them, big fingers holding tiny little flowers that he weaves into a crown for you. When he sets it on your head, he purses his lips, mutters something under his breath in his language that you’re still not too familiar with, but sure it means something along the lines of pretty and soft.

And when he finds you bathing in the river only few have access to, he’s sweet the whole time. Doesn’t make a spectacle of you being naked, and is relieved when you don’t instantly cower when he wades his way over to you. You try not to stare at the clawed scars that decorate his pec and jaw when he stands above you, and it helps when he suddenly dumps water all over your head. He shushes you when you splutter, continues on with cupping his hands and letting the water run off of your hair and down your shoulders, scrubbing at your skin until your flesh squeaks. He doesn’t expect you to do the same for him, but he hums in satisfaction when you push him down a little lower so you can wash the crown of his head.

#I don’t think I’ve ever actually written a full blown barbarian bkg fic which should be a crime #bc there are so many good ideas for it #but I’ve been struggling with writing creatively so I will put this idea as a full fic on the back burner for now lol #in the drafts for another 8 months! ☝🏻#sorry I’m lying I’m about to write it rn aidsjdhdjf #anyway interaction has been so low and that doesn’t help with the low energy level when it comes to writing #I do it for myself but it’s a little sad when it feels like I’m talking to myself since I do that enough already lmfao #it’s the beginning of the semester tho so I GET IT bc I’m struggling to read too #this semester isn’t even all that hard but I’m so mentally checked out from school that everything is so much more complicated than need be #I just need a really long break to find myself #feels like I’ve been on go for a few months straight now #okay bye my stomach started cramping really bad which is a single to take my ass to bed lmfao #—new treat in the streets! 🍫#bakugou treats! 🍬

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pastshadows · 3 months

Text

Shadows of the Past

Chapter 7: Complications Abound

Summary: Astarion remained a spawn after ending the reign of Cazador with your help. After defeating the Netherbrain, you and Astarion stay together, moving forward with your lives. You reside in a small house in the city. One night, after an awkward and concerning interaction with him, he disappears without a trace.

Setting: Post End-Game. Mostly canon compliant.

Word Count: 6.7K

Content: Explicit 18+ - intended for mature audiences.

Warnings: [Additional tags will be added, but expect mature content / read at your own risk.]

Spoilers. Mentions of in-game missable content. Violence. Sexual Assault [Implied/attempted sexual assault: Chapter 7]. Past Trauma. Murder. Death. Longing. Sexual themes. Smut. Blood drinking. Angst. Innuendos. High use of sarcasm. Completely fabricated camp interactions.

** Warning ** This chapter contains implied/attempted sexual assault. Please be careful and read at your own risk.

The Sussur Bloom’s glow pours like a phosphorescent waterfall over the delicate blue petals. You can taste the honey-sweet aroma of the flower suspended in the air.

You observe it acutely, trying to figure out where the boundary of its effect terminates.

Aldous grins deplorably, “You would not believe how much this cost to procure.”

Does he think that will impress me?

Drawing in a deep breath, you calm your rampaging heart and swallow the terror balled in your throat.

Adorning your face with an overtly sweet, innocent smile, you summon every snippet of charisma you possess, “A beautiful flower indeed.”

“Not half as beautiful as my current company,” Aldous winks.

Ew.

“Where is your father?” your eyes flash around, assessing the surroundings for advantages you may be able to exploit, “I believe he should join us.”

“Father is away on business. He will not be participating in this discussion tonight.”

Convenient.

“Perhaps we should postpone this little discourse until your father returns.”

Aldous ignores you, “Did you know that the Sussur Bloom nullifies all magic in its vicinity? A useful item against an ornery sorceress.”

“Aldous…”

“Ah, ah, ah,” he sneers, wagging his finger at you, “You will give me the respect I am due.”

HA! A ludicrous notion.

You clench your teeth so hard that the nerves sing, “Saer, I’d like to-”

“Where is the man who was with you?” Aldous cuts you off, “The Elf.”

The door lock clicks, and you nearly wince, but you keep your illusion of poise intact. A grin slinks across Aldous’s lips as he stalks toward you.

“There was no other Elf. You were roaring drunk.”

He chuckles sinisterly, “You may have been able to pull the wool over my father's eyes, but I am not so easily fooled.”

The distance between you and Aldous recedes as he continues his menacing approach. You take wary steps backward, striving to retain as much space as possible.

The poorly lit gloom only deepens as you’re pressured further to the rear of the shop.

Glancing at the door behind Aldous, you concentrate on the stained-glass window. Daylight is fading fast. You silently rejoice and then scold yourself harshly for it.

I shouldn’t be counting on Astarion to save me.

You soak your voice in your most persuasive, candied inflection, “We can sort this little mishap out. There’s no need to involve anyone else.”

“Who is he?!” Aldous rasps.

Anger. A weakness I can exploit.

“No one.”

“Don’t play dull, Sorceress. I will pry it out of you one way or another.”

“I don’t know who you’re talking about,” you smirk patronizingly, “It seems you’re seeing ghosts. Perhaps a visit to a healer is in order?”

Aldous growls threateningly at your taunting. His teeth scour together harshly, sending shivers rushing up your spine, making your stomach reel and pitch.

“He means much to you,” he sneers, “You protect him by putting yourself in harm’s way,” Aldous’s finger taps his chin, “I can’t help but wonder why he would let you come alone. Perhaps you don’t mean as much to him as he does to you.”

“Perhaps,” you shrug, “I don’t."

“You shouldn’t settle for that, Sorceress.”

This little shit dares scold me?

“As if I care what you think.”

“You deserve someone like me,” his hand comes to his puffed-up chest arrogantly, “prestigiously bred of noble blood, wealthy, handsome, and influential. Someone who can provide you with a life of luxury.”

“Gods, you sicken me.”

Aldous places the Sussur Bloom on a table behind him, but close enough that you are within the negating influence.

His face burns red, brows pinched in a nightmarish scowl, “You’re going to have a very miserable night then.”

“If you fucking touch me, I will kill you.”

Not a threat, a fucking promise.

“You’re all bark and no bite without your magic. I will take my apology in whatever form I choose.”

Your stomach warps nauseatingly, and you swallow the bile that soars into your throat.

Grabbing the hidden dagger in your boot, you swipe at Aldous frantically, grazing a weeping cut across his pudgy stomach.

Aldous lunges at you with a howl, grabbing your arm and twisting it, slamming it hard against the corner of a towering bookcase. The dagger rattles to the floor, and Aldous kicks it away swiftly.

“You miserable swine!” he barks, eyes savage and enraged.

Aldous pins you to the bookcase with a bruising grip. His chest puts so much pressure on yours that the air you inhale whines when drawn into your constricted lungs.

Gods, please, just a little longer.

Aldous wrenches at the high collar of your robe, and a snarling shriek tears from your throat. His forehead slams into your face, cutting off your scream.

Pain causes a disorienting parade of light to erupt behind your eyes, and your lip swells and aches furiously. The sharp, ferrous tang of blood coats your tongue.

You spit, and red-tinged droplets splatter across Aldous’s face, “I should have killed you.”

“My, my, what's this on your neck?” he snickers while eyeing the bite mark marring your flesh, “If you like to be bitten, all you had to do was ask nicely. I would have happily obliged.”

Your stomach churns with the insinuation. You yearn to see the little worm beg and plead for you to spare his life."

Pale hands rip Aldous backward.

Astarion’s voice resounds in the dark, “I hear you like to bite, but do you like to be bitten?”

Aldous shrieks as sharp fangs sink into the supple flesh of his neck. You stand, a wicked smile on your face, watching the life slowly drain from Aldous’s eyes.

You could ask Astarion to stop. You could spare the feeble runt his life. You could, but you don’t.

I was never a hero.

Astarion releases him when his eyes are dull and listless, and Aldous’s body crumbles to the floor.

The door creaks unexpectedly, making you jump, and you grasp at the intrinsic magic usually ever-present, only to find a yawning void.

Right. Where is that godsdamned flower?

Gale jogs in, huffing harshly out of breath. Eyeing the Sussur Bloom sitting innocently on the table, you throw it down and grind it to nothing but a blue paste smeared across the floor with your boot.

Astarion and Gale study you with apprehension as if worried you may buckle and break apart. You cross your arms and frown at them.

How soft do they think I am?

“I don’t need mollycoddling like a spoon-fed babe,” you tut, clearly vexed, “What are we going to do about him?”

Gale’s fingers his chin, “This will certainly complicate things.”

“I will handle this,” Astarion concludes.

“No,” you stammer, “I can help.”

Astarion shakes his head, “You and Gale go for a lovely, very long, relaxing night stroll. Greet, chat, mingle with everyone you see, stop at a pub and drink; I care not, just make sure you are seen far from here.”

Gale nods, “We must set the lanceboard in our favour, so to speak. Astarion can handle this. This is hardly the first body he’s had to make disappear.”

Astarion smirks, “Far from it.”

“I could simply set this whole place ablaze,” you muse.

An excuse, more than anything, to see this place eradicated from existence.

Gale pales, “Burn all these books?”

Astarion snickers and sighs dramatically, “Truly, darling, did you not consider the books?!”

You roll your eyes, “They would make for fine kindling.”

Gale mumbles, mouth agape, “How unseemly.”

Astarion giggles at the ill-humoured scowl darkening Gale’s face before looking at you, “Still that twitchy palm of yours. Nothing screams guilty like a raging, fiery inferno.”

“I suppose you are the expert in these matters, Astarion.”

“Oh,” he grins, “Please do continue showering me with your praises.”

“Good Gods,” Gale grumbles, “We should not linger, my friend.”

“Fine,” you throw your hands up, exasperated, “I will spare the damn books.”

Astarion snaps his fingers, “Gale, the scroll, if you please.”

The scroll?

You cock your brow at him. Astarion unrolls the scroll, recites the incantation, and it vanishes.

The swell and tender ache in your lower lip dissipates. Astarion pulls a handkerchief out and wipes the leftover drops of blood from your chin that had dribbled down from the split in your lip.

“Good as new,” he purrs, but there is concern laden in his eyes.

“Your incantations need work,” you tease to relieve Astarion’s anxiety.

He grins but clicks his tongue in disapproval, “As do your manners, it seems.”

Gale weaves you through small, dim alleys and paths while avoiding the populace until you’re far from the shop.

Once you can return to the main thoroughfare, Gale skillfully greets passersby, striking up mundane conversations to ensure you’re noticed and seen.

Neither Gale nor you speak of what happened until you’re safely back in the manor.

“Fuck,” your fingers wrack through your hair, “I’m so sorry, Gale.”

“You need not be,” Gale squeezes your shoulder, “I’m just glad you’re alright.”

“We need a plan.”

Run. Run. Run. Take Astarion and run - your mind chants.

Hells. My inclination toward avoidance has gotten out of hand.

Gale pats your arm, “What have we always done?”

“Outflank. Outsmart,” you echo his words.

“Spot on,” he grins, “We can delve further into the particulars come morning.”

“You’re right,” you take a calming breath, “I think that’s about enough excitement for today.”

“You have a strange notion of excitement, my friend,” Gale chuckles, “Now if you will excuse me, I am in dire need of a bath. Hells. That vampiric bastard can move swiftly. Perhaps I have gotten indolent in retirement.”

After bathing and changing, you sit on your bed and stare at the unfilled space beside you. Just this morning, you had awoken in Astarion’s room, and your eyes overindulged on the sight of him still peacefully at rest.

Can I go back to resting and waking up alone again? Moreover, do I want to?

No.

Your heart whimpers in your chest at the concept, sinking into your stomach with a quiver. The battle between your fearfulness and what you want continues to war on. Everything you crave is situated on the other side of your doubt.

Why do you keep yourself seated in the dark abyss you retreated to when he left when the light is right in front of you, and all you have to do is walk into it?

I’m still running.

Coward.

Reprimanding yourself for being so spineless, you leave the emptiness of your bed behind and make yourself some tea. Sinking into the chair on the terrace, your legs curl up under you.

The waves flourish and flaunt in the inlet, making the boats dance in concert and the tangy brine of the sea wafts in the air. Coasting clouds cause the pastel glow of the new moon to wax and wane.

The fluttering beat of wings alerts you to Tara’s approach before you see her soar and land on the terrace with a grace only she and Astarion could muster.

The pitter-patter of her little paws on the wood boards makes you smile as she draws near.

Tara stretches her wings before settling, “Would you like some company while you await the vampire’s return?”

“Tara, do you know the vampire’s name?”

“Of course,” she scowls, “You’ve been calling out to him in your sleep for months.”

Oh…

Right.

“Why do you keep calling him vampire then?”

“He calls me cat or cat with wings, does he not?” she huffs exasperatedly, “It does not vex him as I hoped, though.”

You giggle at her, “You must try much harder if you wish to aggravate him.”

She nods curly as if she’s taken that into advisement, “I have not seen you out here recently. What is troubling you this night?”

Patting your lap, you invite her up, “It’s hard to find enough peace to rest when your heart is at war with your mind.”

Tara jumps up and lays down with a soft purr, “Have you always been so meek?”

Meek? Not a word I would have ever described myself with.

“No,” you stare off into the distance blankly.

Her round eyes reflect what little light the moon provides, “You have been lonely here, yes?”

How does she know these things?

The unmistakable glint of unshed tears brims in your eyes, “Is there a cure for loneliness?”

She cocks her head, confused, “You do not seem lonely when he is near.”

“I-” your brows pinch together, she’s right again, you think, “I suppose I’m not.”

“Then he is the cure you seek.” Tara concludes, “May I speak bluntly?”

She’s never asked before. This should be good.

“Please do.”

“You are being an idiot,” she says factually.

You laugh, almost spewing your tea at Tara’s curtness, “I’m sorry. Care to elaborate?”

“The longer you keep yourself tethered to this unhappiness, the longer you will live a life not meant for you.”

I hate how right she is.

Your fingers tap the mug fretfully as tears tiptoe out of the corners of your eyes, “What if I can’t get over my fear, Tara?”

Tara puts her paws on your chest, levelling her green eyes with yours with a stern yet empathetic glower, “Then you must do it afraid, Sorceress.”

She makes it sound so simple.

But it is really that simple, isn't it?

You stifle back a sniffle and scratch behind her ear, “Stop being so smart and wise.”

“Perhaps when you stop being an idiot.”

Another strangled laugh escapes your throat as you stroke her silky fur, making her purr loudly. Resting your head on the high-backed chair, your eyes flutter shut.

“You must do it afraid.”

I will.

I just need a little more time.

Tara leaps off your lap, and your eyes open sleepily to see Astarion standing before you. Dirt streaks the pale skin of his face and hands, and trails, where sweat rolled down his temples and forehead, are evident.

“Wake up, sweetheart.”

You scan the sky as the haze clouding your vision disperses slowly. It must be only hours from dawn.

Your nose crinkles, “You smell like dirt.”

“I thought I would try something new; groundskeeper with a hint of grave robber,” his brow cocks seductively, “Is it working for you?”

You giggle, “Absolutely not.”

“Well,” he pouts with a dramatic sigh, “don’t be afraid to tell me what you really think.”

“I think you really need a bath.”

“I do love it when you sass me,” he tuts, “Naughty thing. What are you doing resting out there? You’re shivering fiercely.”

“I was talking to Tara,” your teeth chatter together, “I must have drifted off.”

He kisses your forehead, “Come on. Let’s get you warmed up inside,” Walking through the kitchen, Astarion turns to you, “Are you gracing my bed with your delicious self again tonight, friend?”

Hells. I was heading to his room without even thinking about it.

“Do you want me to?”

“It’s up to you,” Astarion shrugs as if it doesn’t matter, but there’s a hint of hope reflected in the scarlet of his irises.

Gods, tell me we belong together. Please.

“Tell me what you want, Astarion.”

“You, my love. Always and forevermore, you,” he purrs, taking your hand, “My bed it is.”

Astarion’s room is a chasm of blackness when you enter. With a flick of your wrist, you light the candles instantly with a smug smile.

He chuckles, “I forgot how handy you are to have around.”

“Truly indispensable,” you chime back in jest.

“Better set that ablaze as well,” Astarion points to the fireplace, “You get grouchy when you’re cold.”

You gasp, hand coming to your mouth theatrically, “I’m never grouchy!”

“Oh, don’t fret, my dear,” he glowers at you playfully, “You’re adorable when you're grouchy.”

“Go bathe, you smell.”

He giggles with a shallow bow, “As the lady wishes.”

You sit on the edge of Astarion’s bed, and a smile trails across your lips. These moments with him feel so familiar, so right, and they quiet the clashing present inside you.

Why are you making things so complicated for yourself? It could be as simple as telling him you want to be with him, so why don’t you?

He would finally stop calling me “friend,” at least.

Astarion returns with only a towel hanging loosely around his waist. He nudges your legs apart with his knee and leans in close. His hands slip up the bed by your sides, forcing you to lean back until you’re propped up on your forearms. Your heart parades in your chest, seemingly skipping beats the closer he leans into you.

“Well, you’re not wrinkling your cute little nose at me anymore,” Astarion taps the tip of your nose softly, “A good sign.”

Leaning in close, you kiss his shoulder while making a dramatic show of inhaling deeply, “You stink… less.”

He giggles and gives you a gentle shove, “Less?! Darling, I’m hurt,” he imitates shock with a sulky flair, “I smell excellent.”

Hells, does he ever.

“How do you know?”

Astarion taps your chest over your heart in rhythm with the quickened pace with a sly, boyishly handsome smile, “Your body tells me everything I need to know.”

“Pleased with yourself, are you?”

“Indeed,” he coos, “Now, to bed with you, sleepy love.”

Yes, rest. Gods, I’m tired.

Astarion’s thumb sweeps lazily back and forth over your arm, and you lay your head on his chest. Your eyes feel heavy and sag closed.

Lifting your hand, you draw all the flames from the candles into an orb floating above your palm, extinguishing them. The flaming sphere winks out, bathing the room in darkness except for the glow from the ebbing embers in the fireplace.

Astarion kisses your forehead, “Braggart.”

You giggle, but your voice sounds distant to your ears as the current of your trance pulls you under. Astarion starts to hum while running his fingers through your hair.

“I love you,” you say in a whispering sigh.

Wait… did I say that out loud?

Astarion’s crooning hum cuts off, and his fingers come to your chin, guiding your face up.

The silky skin of his lips caresses yours tenderly, “I love you too. Rest, my only one.”

Gale rubs his eyes, “Where was Mr. Blackwell?”

“Aldous said he was away on business,” your leg bounces nervously, “He didn’t elaborate further.”

Astarion’s hand slips over your thigh under the table, stilling the ferocity of its jostling.

“We have some time then,” Gale concludes, “I have business in the city today. I could make some inquiries.”

“Bloody Hells, you are terrible at this,” Astarion groans, clicking his tongue and rolling his eyes, “Gale, if you go making odd inquiries, you’ll implicate yourself.”

Gale scoffs, “Oh, my deepest apologies if I am not proficient in the matters of covering up a murder.”

“Apology accepted,” Astarion drawls, “We could always kill Mr. Blackwell. What’s one more murder?”

“Mr. Blackwell has a wife,” Gale scowls, “Aldous’s mother.”

“You say that as if it’s a problem, Gale,” Astarion shrugs, “The wife as well then.”

Gale’s skin goes a deathly white as his mouth drops open, eyes round, “You cannot seriously be suggesting we murder an entire family!”

You cut them both off, “Astarion is trying to get under your skin, Gale. Don’t let him.”

“You’re no fun,” Astarion’s lips purse into a pout, “I had the wizard going.”

Gale’s body unknots with relief, “Very funny, my sharp-toothed friend.”

You rub your temples to stifle the headache brewing, “How well connected is Mr. Blackwell, Gale?”

Gale’s fingers tap his chin, “Connected would be an understatement. The man is friends with every high-ranking official in the city.”

Certainly a complication.

Astarion’s fingers drum on the table, “Could we not convince him that his son ran off with some trollop?”

“I could try,” you nod, “but Mr. Blackwell is already suspicious of me. He will not make an easy target.”

“You do have a very delicious silver tongue,” Astarion’s hand slips up your thigh and between your legs, “I have no doubt you could persuade him.”

You sit stiffly, trying not to expose the crudeness happening below the wood tabletop as Astarion’s fingers sweep over your crotch.

“I could try,” you choke out as you clench involuntarily at the sensation, “but it’s not foolproof.”

Astarion scoffs, “If you want foolproof, my dear, we better circle back to the murder option.”

“Do you not feel any remorse for what you’ve done!” Gale explodes out of his chair, irritation creasing his forehead.

Astarion stands with bared teeth, leaning threateningly close to Gale’s face, “I feel only pristine satisfaction. You have NO idea what he was about to do to her, Gale.”

“Stop it! Both of you,” you roar, slamming your hands on the table to get their attention, “I could have stopped Astarion, and I didn’t. If you must hold someone responsible for this, the blame is mine, Gale.”

“Enough!” Astarion’s crimson eyes send shivers down your spine, “You are not accountable for my actions!”

This is about more than just this event.

“Gale,” you sigh with a forced smile, “Go make your inquiries, but be discreet.”

Gale bows shallowly and excuses himself, glancing between you and Astarion. There is a grim tension in the air.

Astarion’s finger taps rhythmically on the table, a telltale sign he’s upset with you.

“Spit it out, Astarion. What is really troubling you because it isn’t this.”

Astarion’s forehead creases as his brows pull down low, and he shouts, “You must stop holding yourself at fault for what I’ve done!”

“Aren’t I?” you scream back at him, coming to your feet abruptly, “The night you left, I made you uncomfortable, and what happened? You fucking ran from me, from our life, from us!”

He left. Gods, he left, and it nearly killed me.

“It-” Astarion’s eyes dart around, “It wasn’t because of something you did.”

“My fault or not, I paid dearly for it.”

You ran and took my heart with you.

You rush to your room, locking the door. It’s too much. It’s all too much at once, and you cannot process it quickly enough.

It was my fault Astarion left in the first place, wasn’t it?

I pushed him too hard, didn’t I?

Gods, you don’t know. You’ve been punishing yourself for all of your missteps since he disappeared, and you can’t relinquish your guilt no matter how hard you try.

Why will I not allow myself to let this go?

Astarion’s soft knock resonates on the door, and your head plummets into your hands.

You cannot do this right now, and your voice rumbles, “Go away, Astarion.”

Astarion plunks down on the floor outside your door, “I will wait until you are ready to speak to me.”

He used to do this when you lived with him, giving you space but ultimately staying close by.

Wrenching the door open, you seethe, “Go. Away.”

Astarion rights himself and pushes into your room as if nothing is amiss. Despite your fiery temper, Astarion was never easily goaded into a fight with you.

“Astarion,” you leer at him in a warning.

“You’re angry with me,” he retorts, “I’m well aware and well acquainted with your ire.”

“Then you know you should be leaving me alone,” you admonish him.

“You never used to retreat from arguments with me.”

Fuck. He’s right. I ran.

Again.

You groan, slamming your door and drop to the floor. The headache you had felt starting is now throbbing in your temples like a battering ram. Pressing your eyes shut, you kneed at your head with your fingers.

Astarion sinks to the ground opposite you, and his hand settles on your forehead, “Darling, are you alright?”

The chill of his skin eases some of your discomfort, and you push into his touch with a relieved sigh, “Just a headache.”

“You did not get much rest last night,” his fingers massage your temples, “I’m sorry. I should not have shouted at you.”

“I don’t want to talk about this right now.”

“You do not have to talk, but you will listen, and listen closely,” Astarion tilts your head up, and you open your eyes to meet his, “You must stop blaming yourself for what I’ve done. The guilt is not yours to endure.”

“But…” you swallow the lump in your throat, wrench your eyes down and fidget with your fingers, “But I made you uncomfortable the night you left.”

“My leaving was not due to anything you did or did not do. I’m-” he sits back, running his fingers through his hair, tousling it, “I’m a coward,” he shrugs, “I’ve always been a coward.”

“You have never been a coward, Astarion,” you shake your head, “What’s changed? What will stop you from leaving again?”

“I am no longer afraid,” his fingers sweep across your cheek before rubbing your temples again, “Well, perhaps that’s not entirely true. I am afraid of losing you again.”

How did he get over his fear?

“Astarion,” you sigh as his fingers skillfully knead the throbbing ache, “you could never lose me.”

“I did,” the corners of Astarion’s mouth creep downward mournfully, “did I not, friend?”

This word haunts me.

“May I ask you something?”

You nod, “Anything.”

“Ever since I returned, you have been exceedingly gentle with me, far beyond customary, even for you. Why?”

“You mean,” your voice trembles slightly, “when it comes to being intimate with you?”

“Yes.”

Fuck, I don’t want to tell him this, but I must stop trying to escape from the truth.

“I-” you inhale a long, slow breath to calm your pounding heart, “You left me the night I made you uncomfortable. I suppose,” you pause, trying to gather yourself, “I suppose I have been worried that if I make that same mistake, I will scare you away again.”

Astarion takes your hands, “I promise you do not have to be afraid. I am here to stay. You need not be so gentle with me.”

Don’t I though?

“Can I trust you to tell me when it’s too much?”

“I will always tell you,” he says conclusively, “Could we please get off this floor now, beautiful?”

Right…

“Sorry. Where would you like to sit?”

“The bed,” he says, helping you to your feet, “Does your head still hurt?”

“Yes,” you groan.

Your brain is bashing against your skull, trying to escape your head.

“Sit. I will rub it for you like I used to.”

Sitting on the bed, Astarion pulls you between his legs, your back against his chest, and you let yourself sink into him. His fingers work the achy spots perfectly.

“What happened yesterday,” Astarion says in a low timbre, “with the boy. Are you alright?”

Am I?

“It’s not the first time I’ve been attacked.”

“Yes,” Astarion looks around anxiously, “but there is a difference between being attacked and being,” he pauses, searching for a way to put it delicately.

“I know what you’re getting at,” you sigh, “I’ve lived a hard life, Astarion. This is just another one of those things that’s better forgotten."

“I understand,” Astarion kisses the top of your head, “But if you cannot forget, I am here if you need me.”

I always need you.

“Thank you.”

“You will tell me more about your life someday, yes?” Astarion’s voice is hopeful, “I wish to know everything.”

My past - another thing I run from.

“Will you tell me more about yours?”

“For you, my love, I am an open book,” Astarion murmurs, “Ask, and I will tell you to the best of my ability, but there are things I cannot recall.”

“Like your face?”

He smiles sadly, “Yes, like my face.”

You and Gale have been practicing magic together, and you asked him to teach you Mirror Image. The incantation was straightforward to learn, but Illusionary magic is not your realm of expertise and mastering the hand movements was tricky.

Mirror Image was meant to be used on yourself, but you and Gale often try to find new ways to use or cast various spells.

After many trials and failures, you’ve figured out how to use Mirror Image to mirror someone other than the caster.

Should I?

“Do you-” you trail off, wondering if this is a good idea, “I could try something - if you want. If I can pull it off, you will be able to see yourself.”

“What?” Astarion jolts off the bed, eyes round with astonishment, “How?”

You turn to look at him, “Do you remember that night in camp when Gale was inspecting a magical copy of himself?”

His red eyes shift around, crazed, and you wonder if you’ve made a mistake and stepped too far.

“Of course,” he groans, “How could I forget his incessant preening?”

Astarion looks anxious, and unease blooms in your stomach, “Are you okay? Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“Please,” he pleads, his scarlet eyes wide and wild, “If you can, would you please?”

“This may feel odd at first,” you warn, “like countless fingers running over your skin. Don’t be alarmed.”

I can do this. I will do this.

Grasping the Weave, you wrap it around you and Astarion with the finesse of an archmage. Reciting the incantation is as easy as breathing, and it rolls off your tongue poetically.

The hand movements are far more complicated, but you’ve practiced this, and your fingers dance the perfectly choreographed pattern.

Astarion’s eyes stay locked on you.

You pull the threads, and the Weave unravels, only for you to stitch it back together in the image of Astarion.

“It’s done,” you smile, “All you need to do is turn around.”

Astarion takes a deep, shuddering breath but doesn’t turn, “What should I expect?”

You cock a brow at him. You’re not entirely sure how you expected him to react, but hesitancy didn’t even cross your mind.

Is he scared he won’t like what he sees?

“You will see yourself as the world sees you,” you say, calm and encouraging, “You don’t have to, Astarion. If it’s too much, I can always recast this when you’re ready.”

“No, I want to. Gods. It’s been so long, and I just… I just do not know,” he swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down, “Will you hold my hand? I do not think I can do this without you.”

“I’ve got you,” you interlace your fingers with his, “When you’re ready, love.”

He smiles, “That’s the first time you’ve called me that since I’ve been back.”

No… No, I couldn’t be. Is it?

“I- Uh…I-”

“Oh, don’t worry,” he giggles, “I won’t get my hopes up, friend.”

Astarion takes another slow, shaky breath and turns around slowly. The image of Astarion faces him, but its eyes are closed. For a moment, you think you didn’t cast the spell correctly, but when you look at Astarion, the figure mirrors him as it should.

Giving him this moment, you lean your head on his shoulder and wait patiently.

Astarion recoils slightly when his eyes open, and he sees the image standing there. The figures stare at each other, awestruck.

Astarion takes a step closer to the image and touches his face, running his fingers along his jaw, down the bridge of his nose, and over his cheekbones. He racks his fingers through his hair. Leaning in closer, he inspects his eyes and fangs, utterly captivated.

“Good Gods,” he pants breathlessly, “That’s me?”

“It’s you, Astarion,” you can’t help but smile, “in all your earth-shatteringly, realm-ending handsome beauty.”

“I am positively magnificent, aren’t I?” he muses agog, “Now, all your fiery jealousy makes perfect sense.”

You nearly chastise him, but when you look at him to shoot back some witty retort your mind hasn’t yet formulated, he’s staring at you with tears shining down his cheeks.

Shit. Maybe this was a bad idea.

“Fuck, Astarion,” you wipe the tears spilling from his eyes with your thumb, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

He looks at the image of himself again, “I- I don’t believe I’ve ever cried happy tears before,” he chuckles low, his eyes downcast, “Not that I can remember, at least.”

Happy tears?

Before you can process his words, he sweeps you up in a cradling embrace, pulling you off your feet, “Thank you, my love.”

The spell wanes, and the figures form flickers before fading away. Astarion lowers you to the floor and looks at the empty area woefully.

“Astarion,” you guide his eyes back to you, still shiny with unshed tears, “I can recast that spell whenever you want. You only have to ask. This need not be the last time you get to see yourself.”

“Gods, don’t tell me that,” he sighs dramatically, with a striking crooked smile, “I’m likely to overindulge."

“Fine,” you giggle, “You will have to earn your overindulgence.”

“Oh,” Astarion smiles devilishly, eyeing you through thick lashes and hooded eyes, “How would you have me earn it?”

“Oh,” you tap your lips, “I’m sure I can think of something like warming Tara her milk,” you taunt.

Astarion scoffs, “The cat can wait for her milk. I was thinking more along the lines of depraved carnal lust?”

“Now?”

“Well,” Astarion smirks, “Now is as good a time as any, but I need to ask something of you.”

“What?”

Astarion sweeps your hair back and looks deeply into your eyes, “Stop being excessively gentle with me. I’m not as fragile as you presume me to be.”

Isn’t he?

“I-” you stammer with worry in your voice, “I will try.”

“Good girl.”

“Lock the door,” you tug at this shirt, “and lose this.”

“Demanding thing,” he chuckles, sliding the lock into place, “As you wish.”

Astarion pulls his shirt off and stands so close that your breasts graze his chest with the rise and fall of your breath.

Astarion’s fingers curl under the hem of your top, “May I?”

You nod, and Astarion lets his cool fingers caress the warmth of your skin as he strips you. The temperature contract makes your skin prickle, and desire flushes your complexion red.

Your nipples skim across the chilled skin of Astarion’s chest, making them harden into peaks instantly, and you shudder at the sensation.

The pad of Astarion’s thumb teases your sensitive peak, “You have no idea how perfect you are, do you?”

His teasing causes a breathy whimper to escape your lips, and heat pools as your nerves are set alight. Astarion takes your lips in his. The kiss quickly becomes primal, urgent, and all-consuming.

He nips your lower lip gently, forcing your lips to part, and his tongue traverses your mouth. Bolts of electricity ripple down your spine, awakening the achy need in your centre.

Astarion grabs your hips and rolls them against his throbbing erection with an urging grunt. The swell between your thighs sings with the decadent banquet of friction, and you moan low, ghosting your lips over his ear as you melt into him.

“You have no idea how much I miss being inside you,” Astarion growls with a voice soaked in burning want.

Gods. I miss it too.

The walls of your core clench uncontrollably as depraved thoughts and memories of him stretching you, claiming you, swim through your head.

Astarion shoves you hard, and you fall onto the bed with a giggle. Pushing your legs apart, he crawls up, kissing your stomach before swirling his tongue around your nipple, making your back arch and body twitch.

Gods. He could undo me with that alone.

Your splayed fingers slip us his chest, sweeping across his nipple, eliciting a pleasant rumbling groan deep in his chest. His lips meet yours urgently, and he bucks his hips into you, pushing the throbbing bulge in his trousers against your swell.

His presence is intoxicating, and you can’t control your body. Hells, you don’t want to control your body, and you writhe against him greedily, needy for relief.

Astarion’s hand slides up your thigh and his fingers ghost over the pulsating flesh, “How wet are you?”

Embarrassingly so. Nigh on soaked.

You groan as the flush of embarrassment courses through you and cover your face with your arms.

Astarion gently moves one of your arms away from your face, “Do not hide from me. You never have to hide from me.”

He rocks his hips against you, and you convulse and tremble against him with whimpering, sputtered murmurs.

“You’re soaked, aren’t you?” he teases, “May I, friend?”

“Gods, yes.”

Astarion slips his fingers into your waistband in an agonizingly slow descent that makes you wonder if you might combust before his fingers find their target.

He parts your folds while expertly avoiding that pulsing bundle of nerves that is craving his stroke.

“Hells, you are positively soaked,” he drawls, “You’re making quite a mess. We should get these off, yes?”

Astarion hooks his fingers into your waistband. You lift your hips in silent consent, and he slips your pants off you.

You squeeze your thighs together, feeling far too vulnerable under those piercing hooded crimson eyes studying you.

“I wish to look upon you, friend,” Astarion glides his hand between your thighs, “Will you let me?”

He uses gradual force to encourage your legs to part, and you allow your legs to spread for him.

Those cardinal red eyes devour the sight of you, full of unwavering adoration, “You’re beautiful.”

His fingers roam down your thigh to your folds, slick with desire. Breathy, sputtering moans escape your lips as your hips lurch at his touch.

His fingers trace the swollen border of your achy clit, “Do all your friends make you drip with need?

“Astarion,” you gasp.

“Yes, love?”

“Please,” you beg, “For the love of all the Gods. Please.”

“How many fingers?” he growls.

What?

Your mind can’t focus enough to string together what he’s asking. You squirm, trying to motivate his fingers to move faster, but he stills and waits for you to stop your writhing.

“When was the last time you were filled?” Astarion says firmly as he eases the contact of his fingers to nothing more than a light tease.

Do I admit this?

“You.”

Astarion’s brows pop up, eyes round with surprise, “Me? You haven’t been with anyone since I left?”

You stare at him, confused by his shock, “You are all I want, Astarion.”

Wait, does his shock mean he’s been with others since he left?

Don’t be so blind and naive. Of course, he has.

He has...

Under the overwhelming realization, your heart warps and bursts, violently rocketing the razor-edged shards you’ve been cutting yourself with, trying to glue them together. You clutch your chest as they tear you asunder anew.

The world feels like it’s crumbling down around you and drowning you in it.

Your cheeks feel wet. Are you crying?

Astarion’s hand cradles your cheek, and you leap off the bed to your hands and knees on the floor, recoiling from his touch.

How many others has he touched with that hand?

Stop.

But Hells, how many since you?

No. Stop.

Astarion is coming toward you, distress twisting his brows and shining vividly in those beautiful crimson eyes.

How many people have looked into those eyes since you while he drove them to their release?

Stop. Stop. Stop.

Fuck. How many?!

His mouth is moving, but Gods you hear nothing over the stampede of your heartbeat thrumming in your ears.

Run. Run. Run. Run and never stop , your mind wails.

You can’t breathe. Hells, you’re suffocating in this room as it caves in around you.

You can’t take anymore. You must escape. Picking yourself up off the floor, you throw on your clothes in a panicked scurry.

Astarion’s cool hand grazes the skin of your arm, and you shrink away, gritting your teeth.

How many? Fuck. How many?!

Astarion backs away from you, alarmed.

Run. Run. Run.

You’ve barely finished dressing before you find yourself sprinting through the manor.

You need to get away from this place, get away from him, get away from yourself.

Swinging the door open, the sunlight floods in. Someone cries out, but you barely register Astarion’s pained yelp. You launch out the door, slamming into a startled Gale, eyes wide with confusion.

Gale tries to halt you, but you push him away with a hard shove that nearly sends him toppling over.

You don’t stop. You can’t stop.

You run.

Thank you to all those who read/like/comment/follow/reblog/etc. I hope you're enjoying reading this! Let me know what you think :)

Chapters Master List - Shadows of the Past

AO3: Crossposted

If you're interested, I also write fanfic for Ascended Astarion x Spawn Tav - Fangs and Fractured Hearts

Small Notes: - Well, the noble is dead (yay), but how will they deal with the consequences? - Poor Tav :(

#astarion x tav #astarion x you #astarion x reader #astarion smut #astarion ancunin #bg3 astarion #astarion #astarion x mc #astarion romance #baldurs gate astarion #shadows of the past

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