#this look single handedly ended my | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

facefullofsadness · 2 months

Note

Could you do a giselle dom pervy step sister(female reader) smut where they don’t like each other at first but ig giselle found a way to turn that hatred into them fucking in secret while their parents are in the house

ANONNNN!!! YOUR MIND!!!! I've been thinking ab this ask for WEEKS and I finally have time to write about it omg obsessed

content - stepcest, blackmail, smut (pervy!giselle, cunnilingus, fingering, face sitting, squirt, voyeurism/public(?) sex)

wc - 2739

a/n - catching up slowly but surely on asks, I have no school this week so imma try my best!

you never really warmed up to giselle.

you never really WANTED to ever warm up to her. she was mean, annoying, obnoxious, and greedy. I mean, how fucking self-centered do you have to be to make your baby stepsis call you by another name because she "doesn't deserve to call me by my real name" as giselle had said. what infuriated you was how pretty she was too. someone who was such a bitch shouldn't get the benefit of being attractive, especially since aeri knew and definitely used it to her advantage. whether it be to the people around her like friends, classmates, teachers, or even your parents, she finessed them like no one's business.

but she could never trick or fool you. you were a challenge to her, and it pissed her off not getting what she wanted. giselle HATED your guts. you were smart, sweet, cute, and generous, traits she simply was not. she hated how your guys' parents eyes' would light up in excitement when you came to them with an academic achievement, looking at you with admiration and love, eyes that would look at aeri with annoyance and disappointment.

aeri's not stupid, she knows why she's disliked, but she doesn't really care. it only really started to affect her seeing YOU be soooo liked by them. she simply hated you because you weren't easy, and you hated her because she saw everyone as easy. though, however much it upset you, it upset her to a degree you couldn't even imagine. she had to win the invisible game, and she was going to get her way with you, one way or another. so she devised a plan, which was to put simply, blackmail.

one day when you were gone at school, she set up a secret camera in your room facing your bed. she laid back on the living room couch in content, watching you come home from school, shooting each other a painfully fake greeting, before you ascended upstairs to your room. during nightfall, you would of course, fulfill your physical desires while everyone was asleep in the house, unaware of the recording device from across the room. and in the morning when you left, your wicked stepsis would sneak back in to retrieve the footage, playing it back and giggling to herself, knowing this would ruin you.

giselle's sweet baby stepsis, a sexual deviant during the after hours, shoving a huge dildo into her pussy to force multiple orgasms from her own body.

aeri was giddy with joy, now owning what single-handedly would win her the upper hand. the day continued as normal, but as you were about to go to sleep, there was a knock at your door. you rolled your eyes when you opened it to find a smug aeri, her phone in her hand with a play button over a still image of you in your room. your eyes shift between her and her phone confused before she pushes you inside and shutting the door behind her.

"what the fuck is that aeri?"

she huffs and sits comfortably at the end of your bed, "first of all, it's giselle to you, don't forget. second, how 'bout I show you?"

playing the video on max volume, your muffled moaning erupting from the small screen, watching a video of yourself masturbating. your ears ring and your cheeks flush, pouncing onto the older girl and trying to tear the phone away from her. your older stepsis is far stronger than you and easily you get overpowered, her hands pinning your wrists together and against the bed, her legs straddling either side of your lap.

with one large hand gripping your wrists together and the other hand hovering the still playing video against your face, she smirks, "what? shy? you weren't so shy last night when you were shamelessly fucking yourself, now were you? hm, y/n-ie? my sweet little sister?"

you grit your teeth and shake your head back and forth to deny the accusation, as if it weren't true. her dark chuckle fills your ears and the room, joined with the loud squelching of your pussy coming from the video. you feel tears start to well in your eyes and you plead with her.

"unnie, please... delete that!"

she coos at you, "awww sweetie, you think I'm that easy? not without a price, I won't."

you continue to plea in a desperate voice, "unnie please! I'll do anything! just please, delete it, or don't share it! anything you want!"

her lips curl into a sinister smirk that you can see even in the dark. you feel your heart drop to your stomach at the thought of what she must've suddenly imagined, immediately regretting your choice of words. before you could even consider opening your mouth to take back what you said, aeri drops the phone and covers your mouth.

"anything huh? will you behave for unnie and do anything I want?"

you debate shaking your head no, but when you hear a particularly loud moan come from the video playing next to your ear, you nod your head yes.

"good girl, you may be stubborn but you're not stupid. a little bit dumb for your choice of words though," she hums above you and trails the hand over your mouth downwards, dragging her long slim fingers across your sensitive body, jerking with every inch of contact she makes.

you whine as her fingers circle your hardening nipples and pinch them between her fingertips, giggling at how your body reacts to her touch.

"sensitive little baby, aren't you y/n-ie? fuck you're so cute, you shouldn't be so fucking cute."

aeri hated how much she was enjoying this almost as much as you did. she hated how cute her little sis was, writhing under her, eyes welling with tears in fear, body reacting to every subtle brush, thighs rubbing themselves together to suppress the ache at her core. and you hated it too, you hated that your older sister made you feel so fucking good, how her touch ignited flames in your stomach, how you panted into the air the more intimate her touch became, how you anticipated and needed more when you realized how disgusting this all was.

you both hated it, but you both couldn't get enough.

looking up into giselle's eyes at the same time she looked into yours, locking onto one another and gazing into lustfilled stares, the tension filling the air. the hatred boiled over and morphed into a new emotion, desire. a compromise emerged, and mentally, you both knew what it was. it all felt too good to want to stop, so you gave in.

leaning up and smashing your lips against aeri's, her immediately pushing back into you, pressing you down into your mattress. sloppy wet kisses loud and echoing through the room, both your moaning filling your ears and drowning out any possibility for moral dilemmas to pierce your mind. the hand pinning your wrists down, traveling up to hold your hand, interlacing her fingers through one and letting the other one go.

you let your free hand shoot into her hair, pulling her closer into you and shoving your tongue into her mouth, eliciting a whine to escape giselle's throat, accepting the intrusion. her other hand finds your thigh and brings it up, wrapping your leg around her waist and grinding her hips against your clothed core, making you both groan out into each other's mouths.

"fuck, you're good. why are you good?" she moans into your mouth.

"I'm not- a fucking- amateur." you pant out between kisses.

"yeah? then tell me, has anyone else made you feel this good?"

she questions, almost as a challenge, and you're scared to answer knowing it's just another piece of blackmail to hang over your head. you both already know the truth, obvious by your hips rutting back against her, your sweat dripping down your forehead, neck, and chest, your core aching with need, and your eyes blown to oblivion.

"fuck you," you answer instead.

she chuckles lowly again, the tone and vibration in your mouth when she does it making your pussy throb between your legs.

"not before I fuck you."

flipping you over and onto your hands and knees, tearing your shorts and panties off, throwing them to the ground. she wastes no time shoving your legs apart and licking along your leaking slit, making you moan out and bury your head into your pillows.

"you're so fucking sick, do you know that? being so wet and horny for your unnie like this, you disgusting little whore."

giselle says as if she's not soaked in her own clothes, nipples hard and hole clenching around air. she feels so powerful, so in control, and it feels so good to have you whining under her. sticking her tongue out and getting to work immediately, dragging her wet muscle greedily and swiftly against your pussy, drinking in all of your slick. muffling your moans into your pillows and clawing at your sheets hard enough to rip them.

her strong grip on both of your legs forcing you to keep them apart, slapping your ass every so often and making you scream out into the pillow. her tongue moves around your core so fucking good, alternating between sucking and flicking at your clit to thrusting and licking inside of your cunt, the sounds unbearably sinful and delightful to especially aeri's ears. she's drunk, on the taste and feel of your pussy, the way your body reacts, and the muffled cries being torn from your mouth.

she closes her eyes and relishes in your delicious juice swishing around her mouth, moaning into your pussy at how fucking good it feels to have you like this. her core aches and throbs so painfully, she clenches her thighs to hold it in. she lands another slap on your ass before shoving three fingers into you, already starting with an unforgivable pace, curling them and finding that spot in you easily. you scream and claw at the sheets, almost assuredly knowing your pillow wasn't muffling your cries anymore, not like either of you cared. aeri was going insane and felt herself becoming more and more addicted to you. addicted to ruining you, addicted to having power over you, addicted to owning you.

with the arch of your back and body stilling, you gush cum all over your stepsister's face, thighs trembling and chest heaving, moans slipping out of your mouth like a waterfall, your pussy mimicking the motions of one too. giselle drank all of it, everything, licking all over your leaking cunt and wiping her face of it too, sucking her fingers dry to not leave a single drop wasted.

she didn't even let you rest as she flipped you over onto your back, quickly stripping of her pajamas and lingerie, before climbing up to your face, her thighs resting on both sides of your head.

"use your tongue for something useful, pervy slut."

pfft, hypocrite.

she gives you no time to respond or think before shoving her fat pussy into your mouth which you immediately start to drag your tongue all over, coating it in her slick. your hands grip her juicy thighs and you dig your nails into them, her wincing above you and gripping the headboard with one hand, the other hand in her mouth to muffle her sounds.

you never rip your eyes away from her face for even a second, obsessed with how much sheer pleasure rests on giselle's face, her mouth biting down on her hand, her eyebrows furrowed in concentration, and eyes clamped shut. your nose hits her clit repeatedly with your tongue buried deep inside her cunt, flicking it to stimulate inside her tight walls. she tastes so fucking divine, cum directly entering your mouth and your spit drooling out the sides of your lips.

her hips quicken and she fully rests her weight on your face which makes you delighted, drinking her up and pulling her in, suffocating between her thighs. not that it mattered, you loved it. you couldn't breathe but you pushed through, thrusting your tongue in her and maneuvering her hips as her clit hit the tip of your nose.

"drink my squirt you little bitch, take it! don't waste a drop! fuck!"

she demands you as she cums in your mouth, her pussy squirting onto your tongue. her thighs shake in your hands and you close your eyes to avoid squirt getting in them. you feel like your drowning in the sheer amount of liquid coming from aeri's pussy, but you obey your sister, drinking everything that slides down your throat. she finally calms down and you tap on her thighs in a panic, literally not able to breathe. she laughs above you and stays there, watching color drain from your face before she lifts herself up, watching you cough and gasp for air.

"sick fuck," she says before smashing her lips against yours' and digging her tongue into your mouth again.

suddenly, she pulls away and gets dressed, picking up her phone and waving at you with that infuriating smirk on her face as she opens the door and leaves, "see you again, baby sis!"

and from then on that's when it started, fucking your step sister in secret. at first it was only at night, every night since the first time. then it progressed to whenever your parents were out of the house, fucking on the couch in the living room, on the kitchen island, in the shower, in each other's rooms. at some point, she started to get more flirty with you, her touches lingering for too long when she held your hips in the kitchen to move past you or sliding her hands up your shirt when she'd greet you with a hug when you came home from school, whispering an "I missed you" into your ear, her breath against it making a shiver go down your spine, which always drove you insane.

at some point though, giselle couldn't give less of a fuck if your parents were home or not, she just wanted to fuck you. your family would be having a movie night in the living room and you'd go to the kitchen to get more snacks, the older girl following you to "help." then she'd pin you to the kitchen counter and slip her fingers down your underwear, dipping them into your already wet pussy.

"really y/n-ie? you're fucking wet? were you eye fucking me all night that you couldn't help yourself get horny? let me help you with that baby."

she would whisper breathily into your ear before fingering you right then and there, you clutching the popcorn bag in your fingers and biting down on your lip, trying so hard not to moan and get caught, thankful the movie was loud enough.

or during a dinner party WITH YOUR RELATIVES, she would "accidentally" drop a spoon on the ground and go to retrieve it, only to separate your thighs and trail a long tortuous lick across your exposed pussy, aeri having demanded you to wear nothing under. you're suddenly gripping your utensils and coughing on the food in your mouth, acting like it went down your throat wrong. your sister climbing back up from under the table with a lost spoon and a smile.

and of course, she fingered you under the dining table that night too, your face red and physically incapable of eating for about twenty minutes, clutching her forearm as you came around her fingers in front of everyone. you had bit down on your lip so hard, blood had started dripping down your chin and onto your dress, excusing yourself to clean up. panting out of breath in your room and ripping the dress off of you, your sister following behind you and pinning you to your bed with a smirk.

"that was impressive baby, you were able to keep in all those delicious moans huh? well, don't you dare fucking keep them in now, they can't hear you from here, and we're not even close to finished."

smashing her lips against your blood stained ones, the taste of metal filling her mouth.

and while you're not sure if you're starting to like your sister or not, you definitely start getting used to it (maybe obsessed).

a/n - the other night when I was looking at this ask, I suddenly had the urge to write a "rich girl aeri x reader fic where they both fucking despise each other and are just rich bitches until one night they both break from all the sexual tension and fuck in the back of aeri's car" fic... I'll get to work-

890 notes · View notes

overqualifieddog · 7 months

Text

[ID: a painting from the shoulders up of Gideon Nav from The Locked Tomb. Gideon is a brown skinned woman with orange hair shaved short on the sides, her face and neck are painted white and black like a skull, however the makeup is sloppy and her skin peaks through. She wears a black cloak, sunglasses and is smiling slightly, looking off to the right. /end ID]

I’m normal about the lesbian necromancy book in case anyone wanted to know, I will be drawing more context art abt it later I just wanted to do a study to figure out how I wanted to play in the face paint and glasses space. Fun fact, re photo I grabbed as a reference for this is straight from the collection of reference images Tommy Arnold posted in a blog post about drawing the cover of Gideon the Ninth, single-handedly rekindled my need to get a career illustrating book covers

#tlt #tlt fanart #the locked tomb #gideon nav #gideon the ninth #artists on tumblr #artist described #accessible fanart

2K notes · View notes

flowerxbunnie · 2 months

Note

Tattoo artist matt 🫦 and he’s praising the reader and telling her she’s taking it really well 🫦🫦 and she gets addicted to it and keeps coming back for more tattoos 🫦🫦🫦 and he’s like ‘wow you’re single-handedly paying my bills, this one’s on the house’ 🫦🫦🫦🫦 and she’s like ‘no, i gotta pay you.’ 🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦 i think you know where i’m going with this

ps I love you 💋

Ink

Tattoo artist!Matt x Fem Reader

Warnings: needles, blood, pain, tension, no smut (yet?? 😏) but veryyyyyy suggestive at times

6.3k words

Your skin is tender and raw, a soft wince drawn from your mouth as your tattoo artist wipes the excess ink with a rough paper towel.

“So proud of this one,” Alex beams as she scoots back in her chair, the wheels rolling her towards her supply cart. She grabs a roll of plastic wrap and some tape before using her feet to roll back toward your chair. “Let’s get you all wrapped up.”

“It turned out so good, dude.” You say in awe as you hold your arm out to her.

“Did you expect any less?” She jokes, wrapping the wound snugly and taping it up before shooting you a smile. “All done. Keep the wrap on for a few hours. It’ll be a little leaky, that’s normal. Wash once a day with unscented soap… blah blah blah you know the drill. Still legally obligated to tell you.” She chuckles at the end, standing up to throw away her stained gloves. “Come up to the desk whenever you’re ready.” She says before she turns on her feet and heads to the front of the shop.

You stand up and gather your belongings feeling the adrenaline rush a new tattoo always seems to bring out of you. Your arm pulses and slightly burns, a sensation you’d become addicted to over the past couple of years. You’re not covered in ink by any means, but you’ve gotten your fair share, all done by Alex.

You love the way her shop feels more like a home than a sterile clinical office. Tapestries are hung haphazardly across the walls, strings of fairy lights sprawl across the ceilings and there’s more weird little knick-knacks strewn about than you could ever imagine counting. Your favorite is the preserved butterflies she has in shadow boxes lined down the hallway.

Once you gather your keys and bag, you take the walk to the front and admire all the sketches pinned along the walls. Alex is waiting for you with a warm smile as she tells you the total. You sit your bag down and rummage for your wallet, gathering the money along with a generous tip as always.

“You want the change back?” She asks as she counts the bills.

“Just take the fucking tip Alex.” You raise an eyebrow at her.

“You know you don’t have to do that,” she chuckles humbly, shaking her head as she sorts the cash into her vintage register.

“I know I don’t have to,” you laugh, tossing your wallet back into your bag, “I want to.”

You grab the strap of your bag and throw it across your shoulder, knocking a binder off the counter in the process. You let out a quiet curse as you bend down to pick it up, flipping it over to look at the cover.

“Oh, you should look through that!” Alex chimes in excitedly. “It’s a bunch of flash pieces that are up for grabs. They’re going quick, you should pick one out!”

“Oh nice..” you thumb through the pages, studying the intricate artwork tucked behind sheet protectors. “These are so good Alex..”

“You think?” She asks, bending down to restock her glass display cabinet with more tattoo salve.

You turn page after page, seeing traditional pieces like tigers and roses, more abstract watercolor pieces and some random goofy sketches of cartoon characters. You stop when you come across a snake separated into segments with the word ‘collarbone’ scratched underneath of it.

“This one is so detailed,” you say, running your fingers across the sheet protector. “Why’s it all broken up like that?”

Alex stands back up to her feet and looks over the page, her brows furrowing a bit as she adjusts her glasses. “Oh, it’s because it’s made to look like it’s wrapping around your collarbone. Like it’s going into your skin kinda.”

“Oh, sick,” You say excitedly, “I’ll take that one then. When can you get me in?”

“That’s not mine, girl. That’s the new guy’s design. You may have seen him here before? He transferred here like three…ish months ago?” She rambles as she sorts through a stack of paperwork.

You think back, not recalling seeing a different face in the shop. “I don’t think I’ve seen anyone new. It’s been a hot minute since I’ve been here and you usually get me in and out.” You pull the binder closer and admire the tiny detailing of the snake skin. “He looks pretty good.. but I don’t know if I can cheat on you.” You sigh jokingly.

“Honestly, he’s fucking amazing. His card is right there if you wanna make an appointment.” She points to a carousel of different artists’ cards. “Matt… the black card.. yep that’s it.”

You stick the matte black card in your bag and give Alex a humorous warning glare. “If he fucks my tattoo up Alex I swear to god.”

“Just make the appointment, Y/n. He’ll do good, promise. Why would I hire someone whose work I don’t trust?” She laughs and steps out from behind the counter, walking towards the door. “Now get out of my shop, I need to rest my eyes.” She laughs as she pulls the door open.

——————

You dig through your bag, pulling out hair ties, loose sticks of gum and countless receipts as you search for your favorite chapstick. “I swear I left it in here,” you think out loud, gasping as your finger slides across the corner of something sharp. You pull your hand back, sucking back a curse and see a tiny paper cut on your finger, laughing at the fact that something so small can hurt so bad. You reach back in and grab the culprit, a black sturdy rectangular card.

Fuck. It’s been 3 days.

You look over the card.

Matt Sturniolo

Appointments by text.

Come get somethin’ nice!

You pull out your phone and create a new contact, typing the 10 digit number slowly and double checking, making sure you got every single one right. You let out a sigh that you’ve been holding back, deciding to drop your worries, bite the bullet and make the appointment.

Alex won’t care, she doesn’t mind. She wants me to.

He thinks I’m a guy, funny, you think to yourself, locking your phone and sitting it on the counter.

—————

The week comes and goes, the same mundane routine dragging you through the creeping days. It’s finally Friday, meaning you’re risking the integrity of your skin on an artist you’ve never even met before, let alone vetted his work. Sure, he can draw a sketch but can he execute it just as well into your skin? The entire drive to the shop you shuffle through your playlist while your fingers absentmindedly tap against the steering wheel, mind racing with every possible outcome.

You sit in the parking lot, nerves at an all time high as you scroll through TikTok trying to numb your brain while the minutes pass. You quickly peek up to the clock on your dashboard, heaving a sigh.

5:32.

Fuck. I still have way too much time.

You groan quietly and put your phone down in your cupholder, leaning your head back against the headrest and close your eyes. Your left foot taps slowly against the footrest in your floorboard, creating a steady rhythm, pulsing along with your music that quietly hums in the speakers. You pick your head back up and grip the steering wheel with a huff, tracing your hands up and down around the warm leather.

Your eyes follow passersby as they stroll and pace down the sidewalk, essentially people watching. Your hand somehow makes its way to your mouth without realizing, your nails picking and pulling at the skin of your lips habitually. You only notice when you taste the bitter metallic flavor of blood on your tongue, silently scolding yourself as you pull down your vanity mirror.

You lick the wound and pull your sore bottom lip between your teeth, suddenly hyperaware of the shriveled, dehydrated state they’re in. Leaning across your car to reach for the glovebox, you pull it open and grab the lip oil you leave in your car for moments like this. You shut the glovebox and center yourself in the reflection of the mirror, opening the tube and applying a much too generous amount of the gloss to your lips. You smack and pucker your lips, appreciating the way they seem to come back to life, plump and slightly tinted.

You look to the side as you run your finger against the corner of your mouth, cleaning up your work. A small blackboard that sits outside the door of the shop catches your attention, propped up and smeared with chalked in words. It lists the information for an upcoming tattoo fair, has random small sketches littering the board, and lists a social media account near the bottom.

Why haven’t I ever thought of that?

You pick your phone up out of the cupholder after you slam your mirror shut, clicking the Instagram icon and typing the handle into the search bar. You click on the account, seeing that Alex’s individual account is linked at the top as well as a piercer, Darren, who you’ve met a couple of times. You scroll down through the feed, seeing copious photo collages of fresh versus healed ink and videos with music edited into the background, featuring Alex working her magic in the shop.

You scroll past a reel of Alex promoting a clean brand of tattoo healing balms, your finger coming to a still as you land on a video of a man hunched in his chair, his body leaning over as he works a tattoo gun into someone’s leg. You can’t make out much of him from the video, but he’s clad in a stone washed black t-shirt and jeans littered with ink stains. Tattoos sprawl across his left arm that pulls at the person’s skin, holding it steady as he moves the dripping needle back and forth. Though his face isn’t visible, you notice his wispy, umber brown hair that falls forward as he works. Light catches the strands and outlines each wave as they cascade over his brow bone. Scrolling down, you read the caption.

“Matt may be new but he is making himself well known in the shop! Text him to book, slots are filling up fast!”

You scroll further and find more pieces done by Matt but can’t seem to find a tagged account. Your shot nerves are soothed a bit as you examine each flawless piece of art, every one of them so perfect it’s almost like a printed photo taped to skin. You can’t deny that the man is talented. You scroll down until you reach the very first photo that mentions his name, dated three months ago just like Alex had said.

Maybe I do trust him.

You break yourself from the distraction of your phone and check the time again, quickly fixing yourself in the mirror as you realize you need to head in immediately. Your soft fingers brush down the wild flyaways in your hair in an attempt to look as put together as possible. Grabbing the handle of your bag and slinging it across your shoulder, you turn off the ignition and step out of your car, making sure to lock the doors behind you.

You feel the ground beneath your feet meeting your body in shockwaves with each step you take towards the familiar building. In the reflection of the glass you watch your figure grow closer. You let out one last deep exhale as you grip the iron handle, pulling it open and feeling the cool air shoot across your skin.

As you step in and the door falls closed behind you, you take notice that the front desk is unoccupied. Distinct chatter can be heard over the music playing in the studio just down the hall and past the foyer, deep rumbling tones that you can’t piece together. You’re familiar enough with the shop that you feel comfortable going back without a so-called escort, so you grip the handle on your shoulder and begin the walk down the dimly lit hallway.

The walls open up into the studio and the music is so loud it almost vibrates your skin. You step closer to the source of the voices, one of them being the piercer you’re familiar with. He stands talking expressively with his hands to another man who sits with his back facing you, arms behind his head as he leans back into his chair.

“Is Matt here?” You question, looking around the rest of the studio.

The men continue on with their conversation, completely unaware you’d even said anything over the racket of the rock music. Clearing your throat, you step forward, just about six feet away from them at this point and speak up once again.

“Is anyone working the desk right now?”

The piercer turns his head to face you and the man in the chair spins around, planting his feet to stop himself.

His blue eyes catch your attention first, so bright the gaze is almost difficult to keep. But you do, and so does he. He drops his hands down from the back of his head, one of his arms coming to lay on the armrest of his chair and the other stroking the stubble that peppers his chin. The tattoos across his left arm in contrast to the blank one on the right tell you that this is your guy, this is Matt.

What you don’t know is how he feels his blood pumping hot at the sight of you. He does his best to keep his eyes above your shoulders, but he can’t help letting them wander down your supple, shining skin, immediately thinking about how soft it must be. Matt sees so many women everyday, some in very compromising positions, but just the sight of you standing in front of him has made him feel weak. The way you look so innocent and bright, juxtaposing the way you’re standing in front of his sketches of skulls and anatomically correct organs being feasted on by animals.

You feel a wave of awkward silence even through the intense bass sounding through the speakers. You ask once again if anyone is working the front desk, but your voice struggles to overpower the volume. You see Matt’s cheeks pull up into a chuckle as he reaches back around to the table, fishing for his phone and clicking the volume down considerably.

You huff, trying to keep the annoyance out of your voice as you repeat yourself for the fourth time. “Is anyone working the front?”

“I’m sorry honey, we don’t take walk ins.” He rasps as he shoves his phone into the pocket of his jeans. “You’ll need to make an appointment.”

“I have one.” You retort, resting your weight on one of your legs.

The bearded man walks away to his piercing station, leaving the two of you in a sort of awkward staredown.

“Alex is out today, and I’m expecting a guy to be walking in any minute for my next appointment. Are you sure yours was for today?” He asks smoothly.

“You’re Matt right?”

His shoulders tense when you say his name, but he relaxes them as he nods his head. “Yeah, I’m Matt.”

“Oh, well then yeah.. I’m Y/n. Collarbone snake for 6 o’clock.” You clarify, pulling out your phone to ensure you had the date and time right.

His eyes widen and he silently scolds himself for assuming something so bold while being utterly wrong.

“Yeah, here it is.” You turn your phone to face him, stepping closer.

“I must have been tipsy when I replied or something,” he laughs and sits up in his chair, running his hands through his hair to soothe his embarrassment. “I assumed you’d be a dude for some reason.”

“No, at least not since the last time I checked.” You giggle, tossing your phone into your crowded bag.

His laugh gives you a sense of satisfaction, his hands coming up to rub his eyes as he catches his breath. “Shit, that’s my bad then.” He says while pushing himself up to stand, his arms flexing under the tight sleeves of his shirt.

“No worries.” You give him a genuine smile, not wanting him to feel any more embarrassed than you can already tell he is from his flushed cheeks.

He steps forward with a long stride, his frame much larger and taller than you expected once he passes you to head to the hallway. He tries to ignore the way his pulse quickened with the way you beamed up at him moments before, walking quickly to the front desk.

You follow behind, breathing in the lingering scent his cologne leaves in his trail. Stepping in front of the counter as he grabs a stack of haphazardly sorted papers, you grab a pen from the cup in front of you.

He slides them over to you, groaning as he flips them so they’re facing your direction. “Might not be much help reading them upside down.” He chuckles. “Alright, so I’m assuming you know the drill, yeah?” He nods his head at your arms, eyes flickering over the ink.

“Mhmm..” you hum as you concentrate on crossing off and initialing boxes stating you don’t have any medical conditions hindering you from getting tattooed.

Matt watches in silence as you skim over the pages, twisting the pen between your small fingers. He places both hands on the ledge in front of him and moves ever so slightly closer, enough to watch your lashes as they brush your cheeks with each blink. If he got any closer you’d probably feel his breath hitting your skin.

You print and sign your name on the bottom of the last page, capping the pen and tossing it back into the cup. He’s stepping back as you look up at him with the papers outstretched, deciding ogling over you isn’t a very professional first impression.

“My ID is already on file.” You say as he takes the stack and turns to the side to run them through the scanner.

“Well look at you, smart girl huh?” He jokes, pressing buttons to send the papers through the machine.

You feel warmth creeping up your neck and across your cheeks as the words fall from his lips. “I mean,” you pause with a giggle, “Alex is my only artist so I know she’s got everything she needs from me.”

“And you’re cheating on her with me?” He chuckles softly as he steps out from behind the counter, turning to head back towards the studio. “Let’s get this started, shall we?” His voice is quiet, his back to you as he walks ahead.

Matt’s shirt is stretched thin across his broad shoulders, and you absentmindedly let your eyes sink down his arms, following the veins that trail from them into his hands as they swing. His walk is confident and steady, unwavering.

Part of him wishes he had let you walk ahead of him so he could selfishly glue his eyes to your legs, drinking up the way your shorts hug them perfectly. But he has to keep this professional, you’re just a customer.

He walks to his table, gripping a handle and maneuvering the headboard so that you’ll be partially sitting, partially leaning back. “Go ahead and have a seat for me.” He gestures you to the table.

You sit your bag in your lap as you adjust in the seat, a chill running through you as the cold textured leather presses against your back. Matt stands over his supply cart, looking back and forth between you and a few sheets of paper.

“I printed a few stencils but they’re all man sized..” he laughs, crumpling them up and tossing them into his trash bin. “I’m gonna have to free hand it.”

Your eyes widen as he grabs a marker off the top of the cart and pulls the lid off with his teeth, scooting his rolling chair up to your table. “Uhh.. are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“Honey…” he laughs, his head falling forward before he looks up at you with a grin. “You know I sketched the design free handed, right?”

You silently curse yourself and do your best to laugh it off, but you definitely made yourself feel incredibly dumb. Somehow he switched the mood and made it feel like he was laughing with you instead of at you, though.

“Alright… first let me…” he trails off, looking around his table before replacing the marker with a fresh razor. “I know you don’t have chest hair, but I kinda have to clear the canvas regardless.” He gives you a humored smile.

He pulls his chair up, his left hand brushing your hair off of your shoulder and down your back. He grabs your tank top strap with a clenched jaw, slowly sliding it down your shoulder. His fingers feel like jolts of electricity on your skin, like he shouldn’t be touching you, but also like you want more.

He’s a tattoo artist. Alex touches me everytime she does one of my tattoos. There’s nothing weird about it, stop making it weird.

You gulp and hope that your cheeks haven’t given away your feelings as he gets the strap out of his way and leans closer. You look forward, desperately trying to avoid eye contact with Matt as he slowly drags the razor across your skin.

“Alright there’s that.” He spins around and tosses the razor in the trash can, grabbing the marker once more. “Gonna sketch it out roughly right quick. It won’t look as detailed right now but I’ll add ‘em in later.” He mumbles as he tilts his head, bringing the marker to your collarbone.

Matt drags the marker across your skin with furrowed brows as he perfects the curvature of the snake to look like it’s wrapping around your bone. He can smell your sweet perfume permeating from your body, so close he can almost sniff out the individual notes. “You smell like candy.” He blurts out before he can stop himself. He bites down on his lip, shutting his eyes for a moment before he gets straight back to sketching, hoping you didn’t find it odd.

“Thank you!” You beam, “Funny enough it’s actually Prada Candy. I love it.”

He hums in response and finishes up his outline, rolling back to look at it from further away. “Sit up for me right quick.” He instructs and you listen. He nods his head, approving of his placement and sketch. “Let’s make sure you like it first.” He turns to the side and grabs a handheld mirror off his cart. He holds it out to you, his fingertips brushing yours as he hands it off.

“I love it! It’s the perfect size. Even just the sketch looks so good.” You grin as you study the purple ink in the mirror. You smile as you hand the mirror back to him, taking notice of the subtle curve of his lips.

“Great then. Already got the machine all set up and the ink wells filled. You ready?” He asks with raised eyebrows.

The look on his face tells you that you might have bitten off more than you can chew. “I… think I’m ready. Should I be worried?”

He sucks his teeth as he looks down with a stifled smirk. “Well… the collarbone isn’t the most pleasant place to get a needle jammed into your skin, I’ll leave it at that.”

You look to him with wide eyes. You’d never even considered how painful it might be, all of your other tattoos being on your arms and lower legs. “Matt, you’re scaring me.” You nervously laugh.

His stomach does a flip when you say his name for the second time today. He shoved the feeling down and reaches over, grabbing the tattoo gun in his right hand and turning it on briefly. The vibration sounds throughout the room and he assures it’s in good working condition before shutting it back off and looking up at you. “I think you’re a brave girl, you can take it.” He says lowly but causally as he rolls up next to the table, resting his left arm next to your shoulder.

The way Matt’s words fall from his lips like honey makes your skin feel as if it’s being licked with flames. You look down as he flips the gun on once again and dips the needle into the pitch black ink, the fluid dripping onto the table as he slowly raises it toward you.

“You’re gonna have to turn a little.” He almost whispers as he uses his left hand to guide your jaw to the side, giving him better access to your skin. “Alright, there we go.” He leans in as he brings the needle down into your skin, a sharp scratching and stinging pain making you gasp lightly. “You good?” He asks in a caring tone as he lifts the gun back up and scans your pained expression.

“Yeah, yeah.. I’m okay.” You breathe out. “Feels a lot different than arms and legs.”

You see him nod silently and lower the needle back to the surface of your skin, slowly pressing all the way down until he’s drawing the solid outline. He adjusts his left arm and places his warm hand onto your shoulder, his fingers gripping and pulling at the skin to keep it taut. He glances up at your face every now and again as he tattoos you, his view of your side profile and jawline begging him to keep looking. “You can move your head now. Got that upper outline all done.”

You turn your head to look at him, a smile pulling at your cheeks when you see he’s already looking up at you with hooded lids. He flashes you a small crooked grin before dipping his head back down and working on the rest of the outline. You squirm in your chair as the needle moves and works across your flesh, the area growing hot and tender.

You see a thin sheen of sweat forming on his arms under the heat of his overhead light, illuminating every dip and valley through the rolling veins on his hands. His wrist moves back and forth as he maneuvers the machine, his lip bitten between his teeth. Every few minutes his body must become sore because he moves his legs, adjusting in his seat before he brings his grip back to your shoulder.

He concentrates as he finishes the last of the outlining details, sitting up against the backrest of his chair and putting the gun down on his cart. “All done with the outline.” He smiles.

“Really?” You marvel excitedly. You peer down to take a look but huff once you realize you can’t bend your neck enough to get a good view.

Matt takes notice and leans over to grab the handheld mirror off his cart, except his left hand finds a spot atop your knee, sliding gingerly down your calf as he stretches toward his cart. As soon as his touch is there it’s gone. He leans back toward you and hands you the handle, smiling when you examine it in the mirror. “What do you think?”

You won’t lie to yourself, your pulse quickened when his hand brushed down your leg. Your only hope is he doesn’t notice the trail of goosebump he left behind in the absence of his touch. You struggle to find words, your mouth hanging open before you eventually find your voice. “I.. uh… l-looks really good.”

He exhales a small chuckle as he turns to switch the outlining needle for a shading needle. “Let me know if you need a break before I start this part.” He mumbles as he dips the set of needles into the well of ink.

You quickly shake your head. “Nope, get it over with.” You say flatly, closing your eyes. Shading is hit or miss, it either feels super relieving or like you’re getting shredded with a freshly sharpened cheese grater.

“That’s a good girl. All in one go, hm?” He murmurs as he scoots closer yet again.

He did not just say that. I’m thinking too much into this.

You give him a light chuckle and suck air in through your teeth once the needles meet your skin.

“Shhh.. you’re doing good. A lot better than a lot of crybaby men that have been on my table.” He coos as he drags the ink over the raw, bleeding skin.

If it wasn’t Matt you’d be much more of a mess. You’d probably be damn near in tears. But you can’t seem weak around him, so you bite your lip and squeeze your eyes shut as he shades and details the design. Your hands clench the air until your knuckles are white and throbbing, your body needing to release energy into anything other than the pain you’re in.

“Squeeze my arm if you need to. I don’t mind.” Matt proposes, stilling his movement and brushing his brown waves out of his eyes before looking at you expectantly.

You gulp and move your shaking hands to his bicep, wrapping your dainty fingers around the expanse of it lightly.

“C’mon, give me more than that.” He chuckles, “Just don’t squeeze hard enough that I fuck up your ink.”

You grip into his arm with more pressure, feeling his muscles expand and contract under his skin as he moves his forearm.

Thank god Darren left earlier. This looks so… personal.

When a small strained whimper slips out of your mouth he clears his throat, blinking hard as he wipes the tattoo with the paper towel in his left hand. He knows it’s because of the pain, he knows he shouldn’t enjoy the sound. But he does.

He can’t help himself as he finishes up the rest of the tattoo. He finds himself pressing the needle into your skin with more pressure than necessary, enough to draw more pretty sounds out of you and make you grip onto his arm. Enough for you to throw your head back onto the leather of the table, squirming your legs as you squeeze your eyes shut. He’d never do anything to mess up the integrity of his art, but god does he want to. He knows it’s wrong that his pants grow tighter with every move you make, every curse you let out as he pushes more and more ink into your skin. He sees this everyday, why is it affecting him like this?

The angel on his shoulder tells him to get the tattoo done, work fast and get you off his table. The devil on his other tells him to keep you here writhing and squeezing at him for as long as he can. His eyes drift across your sweaty face, your wet baby hairs sticking to your forehead. Your chest rises and falls as he digs in, taking his time to let the needle drag. His mind floods with sin, his hands desperately aching to pull the neckline of your tank top even a millimeter lower.

Your harsh squeeze to his arm snaps him out of his stream of thought, realizing he’d been keeping this on for too long, causing you unnecessary pain. Lifting the needle from your skin, he examines the finished piece for a moment. “All done.” He says flatly, pulling his arm from your grasp to set the machine down on his cart.

“Fuck… that was intense.” You breathe out, turning your head toward him.

“Mmm but you did great. Sat so well.” He praises as he grabs a bottle of cleaning solution.

You have no time to react before he’s squirting the liquid onto your collarbone, a harsh pulsing sting deep in your skin. “Oh that’s… fucking horrible.” You do your best to laugh through the sting.

He laughs along with you, nodding while he lets his eyes watch the droplets that flow down your chest and into the valley of your cleavage. He tears his eyes away and looks at his cart, scoffing when his box of paper towels proves empty. “Gotta go get some more paper towels,” he holds up the box, “be right back.”

“I won’t move a muscle.” You giggle and lean back onto the table.

He offers a quick smile before standing up, quickly turning around and walking to the utility closet across the studio. Once inside and out of view, he lets his hand wander down to the waistband of his jeans, slowly trailing lower to brush over his throbbing erection. He knows this is bad. He’s never had this kind of reaction to a client, and he can’t be crazy. He knows he’s seen you looking too.

He lets his rough fingertips push his shirt up and dip beneath his jeans and boxers, grabbing ahold of his pulsing cock with a slow, shaking breath. He pulls it up and tucks it into his waistband, knowing he can’t let you see the struggling tent in his pants when he walks back into the studio.

He quickly grabs a new sterile stack of paper towels and fills the empty box, sighing deeply before he begins the walk back to his station.

“They were up on a high shelf huh? Had to find a ladder?” You joke, poking fun at the fact he took longer than expected.

“Oh yeah. Had to call the fire department actually. Like when there’s a cat stuck in a tree.” He quips back with a laugh, sitting down and letting his chair roll closer to you.

He rubs the cleaning solution away and beams at his work. He may have taken longer than he needed, but damn if you didn’t get an insanely detailed snake piece. He grabs a package of Saniderm from his cart and peels the backing off, slowly applying it to the raw skin. “Leave this on for like two or three days, you can shower in it, sleep in it, the whole nine yards. It’ll start lifting and you’ll know it’s time to take it off.”

“Hmm.. Alex always uses plastic wrap.” You say questioningly, peering down at the clear bandage.

“That’s because she’s old.” He says matter of factly, peeling his gloves off and tossing them in the trash.

“She’s 35!” You chuckle and smack his shoulder.

“Yeah… old.” He replies as he fishes into his pocket. “Gotta get a picture of this, it turned out so sick.” He pulls his phone out and opens his camera, zooming in until he has the right angle and snapping a photo.

“Don’t post that, I bet I look busted.” You whine, sitting up and stretching your back.

“Well sweetheart, your face isn’t in the picture. But for the record, I think you look pretty good for a girl who just got a metric fuck ton of ink shoved into her collarbone with a needle.” He says as he shoves his phone back into his pocket.

Your breath hitches inaudibly in your throat, heat lapping at your cheeks.

I have to play it cool. He didn’t call me pretty. He’s saying I took the tattoo well, that’s all.

“Thanks, Matt.” You smile, throwing your legs off the table and letting your feet hit the floor.

“After you.” He gestures his arm out as he stands, knowing he has to take the opportunity to walk behind you this time.

You sling your bag over your shoulder and walk down the hallway, feeling his eyes bore into the back of your head the entire way.

Except his eyes bore into everything he missed out on earlier. Your toned, smooth calves and up to your plush thighs that wiggle as you walk. The curve of your ass in your shorts. The way your hips sway with each step, taunting his still half-hard member.

You reach the front desk and peek into the mirror on the wall to the left of it, admiring the fresh ink. You can’t stop ogling at it as he prints out a receipt, walking up to the register and silently watching you. You turn your head to him and mumble an “oops”, stepping back to the center of the desk and grabbing the receipt from him. “Only $120?” You exclaim, widening your eyes as you look up to him.

He gives you a light nod and a shrug, brushing his hand through his fluffy waves. “You took it like a champ. Plus, I know you’ll be back. Gotta give that recurring customer discount, right?”

You know your cheeks are fire engine red at this point as you dig for your wallet, feeling as if you’re taking too long.

Am I being crazy or is that flirting? He’s flirting, right?

You open your wallet and dig out the cash, adding a generous tip to the stack before you hand it over. “I really appreciate it, Matt.”

“Not a problem. You have my number if you need anything else.” He returns as he sorts the cash into the register. He flicks his eyes back up and meets yours, a brief, almost-too-long moment of eye contact held between you two.

You blink hard a few times before clearing your throat and nodding, stepping back from the counter. “You got it. Thanks again.”

You turn on your feet and head for the door, pushing it open while your brain spins with thoughts of your encounter.

What the fuck was that?

—————

authors note: part two??? lmk 😈😈😈

taglist: @solarsturniolo @lustfulslxt @whotfisade @soursturniolo @recklesssturniolo @worldlxvlys @chrisolivia4l @kiarastromboli @mattnchrisworld @cupidsword @kvtie444 @xplrfear @knowingnothingnoel @karlybbx @chrisfavoritepepsi @mwah0mwah @starsturniolo @christinarowie332 @fionaheartswomen @angelic-sturniolos111 @mqttittude @sturniolowhore @luv4kozume

#sturniolo triplets #sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo imagine #sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo #sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo edit #matthew sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo edit #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo edit

984 notes · View notes

woso-dreamzzz · 1 month

Text

The Talk

Hardersson x Teen!Reader

Fridolina Rolfö x Hardersson!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: The sex talk

"This is it," Moster Frido says," This is our legacy to the world."

"This is IKEA."

Frido rolls her eyes. "This is single-handedly the greatest thing Sweden has ever produced. Take it in. This is where you come from."

"Denmark has Lego," You say," I think I prefer Lego."

"Didn't you nearly die eating Lego?"

Your face goes a little red. "Jessie saved me...It wasn't that bad!"

Moster Frido shrugs. "Just, take it all in. Isn't an IKEA trip better than being cooped up with your mums?"

You frown at the mention of your mothers, aimlessly looking around the winding hallways of this IKEA.

"What did they tell you?"

"Huh?"

"My mums. You turned up randomly this morning like we'd been planning this trip for ages. You sweep me away without even giving me a chance to say no. What did they tell you?"

"Can't I spend time with my favourite niece?"

"At IKEA?"

Frido's façade drops. "Okay," She says," Magda may have said something."

"Is that something about sex?"

Frido looks alarmed at how easily you say it, the tips of her ears turning pink as she looks around the empty IKEA for someone that might have heard you.

She clears her throat. "You're at that age now where hormones-"

"Are you trying to give me the talk?" You ask, a smile peaking out from your lips," In IKEA?"

"Is it obvious that I'm out of my depth here?"

You laugh, grabbing something off the shelf and putting it in the cart. If Frido was taking you on an IKEA trip then you would definitely take advantage of her bank card.

"I don't know why everyone is so nervous. I just asked a question."

"What question was it? Because Magda wouldn't tell me over the phone last night."

"I just asked how you know that you want to have sex with someone. Like, how do you know that you think for someone sexually?"

"Is this about the Spanish girl? Natasha or something?"

"Natalia," You say," And...yes...Kind of? I don't know. We kissed, last time I saw her and...I don't know. I think I've got a crush on her but...Are all crushes sexual? I don't know. I just asked."

Frido freezes. "You kissed her?!"

Your cheeks grow warmer and warmer and you busy yourself with checking the price of something. "She kissed me! As friends! We were practising!"

"Practising?" Frido says in disbelief," You were practising?! Jesus, what kind of teen movie is this? So, what, she kissed you and now you think you want to have sex with her?"

"Maybe? I mean, she's my friend and I know this completely breaking friendship boundaries but..." You look down at your feet. "Yeah, I don't think having sex with her would be bad." Your cheeks grow even redder until steam is practically coming out of your ears. "She was a good kisser."

"I need to sit down," Frido says," I think I need a minute."

You puff out your cheeks in outrage. "You asked!"

"I thought this was just a sex talk!" Frido says back," I didn't realise I was meant to take you through the feelings part of it!"

You roll your eyes. "We can just forget about this and get lost in IKEA. I can work it out myself."

"No! No! Wait...I mean...Give me a minute to wrap my head around this."

In the end, your moster Frido did not end up wrapping her head around it at all. She gave a very stilted explanation of how to know you were ready to have sex though she couldn't make eye contact throughout it all and ended up just sweeping random items into the cart to buy as a 'gift' just to get out of the explanation.

She kept muttering under her breath as she took you home and then promptly made herself scarce, still muttering under her breath as she waved you goodbye.

Momma laughs as she guides you inside. "Your Morsa is very excited," She whispers," Just smile and nod. It'll get it over and done with more quickly."

"What do you mean? What-"

You freeze.

Morsa is standing in the middle of the lounge. Her laptop has been connected to the tv and she smiles when she looks at you.

The screen is horrifying.

'Sex: What to know, beginner and expert levels'.

"Did you get this off the internet or...?"

Morsa shakes her head. "I made it myself! Sit down! Sit down! I spent all day on this. I've got everything you need to know."

"Morsa-"

"It's lovely, Magda," Momma assures her," I'm sure it's going to be very informative."

It was the worst two hours of your life.

#woso x reader #hardersson x reader #pernille harder x reader #pernille harder #magdalena eriksson x reader #magdalena eriksson #fridolina rolfö x reader #fridolina rolfö #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso #The Big Adventures Universe

655 notes · View notes

apparentlytheproblem · 8 months

Note

Theodore nott x Gryffindor fem! Reader fluff and soft smut she’s reading in his lap while he’s leaning against the bedpost reading with her holding the book and Turing the pages while she keeps reading it and it’s super smutty (maybe the actors spin-off book abt nesta and cassian-) and she just traces his arm veins while they read (and if you decide to make it smutty pls make the reader LOVE LOVE LOVE his hands, abs, arm viens-)

a l l u r i n g

fandom- Harry Potter

pairing(s)- theodore nott

a/n: hullo, I have my midterm math exam on Monday so its all rushed and i barely have time to post but this has me screaming and crying all at once. i could not find any hardcore smut from a court of silver flames , I couldn't find any hardcore smut from court of silver flames, I'm so sorry abt that. the scene you're reading out loud is written by none other than @lustingbones, featuring Dick Grayson. I've written her fanfic in cursive so as to not get confused. she has single handedly created an obsession for nightwing in me. here's the link to the inspiration :) requests are forever open, luv, teddy

requested- yes

warnings- mf this is an advanced apology, i've never written smut. i've never even held someone's hand romantically, hell, i can't even keep eye contact, soft smut, fluffy, vulgar language, they both are minors, no protection is mentioned, it might make you uncomfortable, the reading of smut, the writing of smut

The sleeves of your black satin shirt had already fallen down your arms, the shirt itself was only being held up by two thin chains over your shoulder. it was basically as good as transparent, there wasn't a thing you couldn't see through it.

Theodore had leaned himself on his bedpost, his shirt was long gone. You were reading to him, your legs were on either side of his hips, your ass was cupped by his hand as he found utter joy in this situation. Your breasts were Infront of his face as he struggled not to get hard under you so quickly. Theo was never this grateful for being taller than you, he could just look down at you and get a perfect view. he wanted nothing more than to hold them in his hands and squeeze it or just rip the shirt off at this point.

"He moaned softly at the squelch of your cunt swallowing him, a creamy white ring surrounding the base of his cock every moment he pulled out."

your flingers grazed the hoops of his trousers, hooking them absentmindedly. sometimes they paused and was placed next to his hips.

“D-Dick, p-please baby-” a hitch in your voice. you could feel your pussy, but more than that, you could feel a lump in his pants.

"its so attractive when you say baby like that, but when i fuck you, its gonna be theo" he mumbled by leaning closer to your ear.

all you could do is nod as he signaled for you to continue.

“Gotta breed you baby.. Show all these fuckers that you’re mine and get you pregnant. You’d like that huh? All full with my baby, my cum deep inside this needy lil’ pussy, hm? You want that princess?” You felt him smirk against your skin as he never faltered, his cock reaching so deep inside you–fuck this man would be the end of you."

Theo's eyes were fixated on you. the way your voice was wavering, the way you squeezed your thighs, how a blush crept to your face. he loved how you got so shy with the pregnancy kink. it made him wonder if she had one herself.

"you're into that? why read about it when i can give you the full experience in 6D?"

you tried to waver him off, this was the last thing you needed in this situation

" "All I do is treat you so fuckin’ well, don’t I?” Dick mumbled as his fingers started to toy with your clit, his middle finger rubbing the sensitive nub in circles as he continued his brutal pace on your weeping cunt. “F-fuck..” he whined as he pulled away for a moment to look down at where the two of you were connected, his cum from earlier rounds already starting to pool onto the bedsheets and trailing down your thighs. “S’good to me, ya know that? Such a good girl..” Fuck it was starting to become too much for him, but it felt so fucking good.."

you could feel your own pussy throbbing. If you were being honest to yourself, you were thinking about you and Theodore. your head keeps going to the idea of him saying this to you, doing this to you and feeling him so hard just got you more turned on.

“G-Gonna come, Dee–fuck!” you whimpered as you fell back into the sheets with your face squished against the pillows, gripping the blanket into your hands tightly."

your palm grazed his veiny arms, has he been working out? they've gotten so big..

“F-fuckin’ come baby, come all over this cock..” He coos through clenched teeth, his nails lightly digging into your plush skin as his thrusts sped up."

from palms to fingernails, they slowly trail up his forearm and roamed around his chest.

"Whiney breaths leave your throat as your climax starts building, before the coil in your tummy finally snaps, your juices gushing around him as he let out a whine and threw his head back."

you find yourself adjusting to place your pussy right above his cock. you could see his face trying to not to show any signs of satisfaction. that was all you needed.

“C-Come inside me, Dick–please!” you squeal with your face squished into the pillow to muffle your needy whines as his cock twitched inside you."

all he could concentrate about is trying not to break character. his eyes fixated on the elegant curve of your back beneath the clear fabric. her rough voice ran through his head in circles. he lifted an arm from his side, letting it play with the bottom buttons, almost only leaving one left. The only thing covering you up.

“I know baby, I know–fuckk!” he groaned as you felt him release inside you, thick ropes of his cum painting your walls a creamy white, giving a few shallow thrusts before stilling inside you, pants and heavy breathing leaving both of your lips as you sat in silence."

you ran your arms down his abs, he loved your not so secret fixation you had for them. but you loved it more.

"You whine as you try to crawl away from his needy hands before he grabs you by the waist and pulls you back to flip you onto your back, a few pieces of his hair stuck to his forehead as he looks down at you with a grin painting his plush lips. Gosh it’s like he was trying to kill you."

“Said ya’ wanted to help me..” he cooed as he leant down with his lips ghosting over yours. "

“So, help me..”

Theodore was done. He gently picked the book from your hand and placed it on his nightstand. both his hands went under your thighs as to place you on the bed so he could tower over you, his chain dangling Infront of your eyes.

"hi handsome" you said peering up to him. you pulled his arm to examine it. his veins looked so hot, just absolutley lovley to have around you.

"hey beautiful"

you take his hand, a quiet smile made way too your face as you rest it on your breasts

Theodore felt your hands as it unzipped his trousers leaving him in boxers. your hand slid up and down his dick in slow strokes, just to drive him mad.

he takes her into my arms still kneeling, hitching your leg around his torso before pulling you as close as possible. The kisses you shared were soft, unbothered needy but never rushed.

1K notes · View notes

drabblesandimagines · 3 months

Text

Elevation

Leon Kennedy x female reader More of my fluffy nonsense

Hunnigan slams the phone down into the cradle at the end of her call and if you hadn’t already been casting auspicious glances up at the scene before you, her actions would’ve made you jump.

“What is it, Leon?” Hunnigan’s tone is blunt.

It would be so easy to look up at the handsome DSO agent then. You’d be perfectly within your right to look up too, your desk opposite sat directly opposite Hunnigan’s so you had ring-side side seats to the commotion. It wouldn’t look odd - he’d be in your eyeline, after all - but you fight the temptation, keeping your eyes fixed on the paper in front of you, fingers tapping idly away over the keyboard as you transpose to the screen.

Exactly what you’ve been doing the past ten minutes that Leon Kennedy has been wandering around the office, dressed in a pair of form-fitting jeans today, his gun holster peeking out from underneath a beloved leather jacket, directing all attention to a certain pair of assets.

Not that you were keeping track of how long he’d been there, of course, you had work to do.

“Huh?” For someone who had apparently been waiting on her call finishing, Leon’s thoughts seems elsewhere.

“I said,” Hunnigan adjusts her tone, “can I help you with something?”

“Does there have to be something? Surely a guy can just come visit his favourite FOS agent.”

“But you haven’t come to visit, you’ve come to loiter.” Hunnigan retorts. “I told you already, if I have anything for you, I will be in contact. Go home.”

There’s an incredulous scoff as he tries to think of a reason to stay, but it quickly transforms into a sigh as he admits defeat. “Fine.”

He begins his retreat towards the exit and you hear the tell-tale beep of his pass against by the door panel, the electronic lock then clunking in release.

“Have a good afternoon, ladies.”

You look up then – and only then - to find him looking directly at you. You give him a polite smile in return. “You too.”

He grins in return, a proper one that makes his eyes crease, before giving you a nod and a wave as he through the door. The smile stays on your lips as you reach for your mug of coffee – now ice cold - and take a sip.

“I think he likes you, you know?” Hunnigan states in her oh-so-nonchalantly way, making you choke on the gulp you’d just taken.

“What? No…! I mean, who?” Your voice is tight in response from having swallowed the liquid the wrong way, internally cursing. Smooth, real smooth.

“Leon.” The agent continues hammering away at her keyboard, kindly ignoring your attempts at being subtle.

“I don’t know where you’ve drawn that conclusion from.” You don’t – you really don’t. You could probably count the amount of conversations the two of you have had with all of your fingers, all just pleasantries.

“I’ve worked with him for years now and he’s never been here as much since your transfer started.”

“Coincidence, I’m sure. He just seems eager for work.”

Hunnigan goes to open her mouth in response when, thankfully, the phone on her desk rings. Saved by the bell.

Being afraid of elevators had never really been an issue until you had taken this assignment, being sent to work on the 12th floor. At the very least it’s proving to be a good workout the number of times a day you now trudge up and down the stairwell from your desk to the archives below. The DSO holds a surprising amount of paper copies of intel in the basement – both handwritten and old typewriter documents - secured behind a vault door, rumours of the place being rigged to ignite in flames if an intruder is detected to prevent it all from falling into the wrong hands.

The DSO board had decided that intel should now be stored in the government-secured cloud and on paper and you’d been brought in as an archivist/analyst hybrid, on loan from the CIA. The project you’d been tasked with, single-handedly, was transferring intel that was currently only held in those paper copies to the online system. There was technology that could do but it wasn’t perfect – scrawled handwriting would often prove indecipherable by most machines or it misread words, so everything would need quality checked. It was agreed a human touch was best and your name had come up after the CIA had undertaken a similar audit of their files a few years ago to excellent results. Once everything had been digitized, it had become easier to quickly identify any links between incidents past and present – using surnames, terms, intel – and even stopped a handful of potential ones, so the DSO had been keen to put the practice in place.

It did mean, however, that every day you’d go down to the vault, select a box of paperwork – either the one you’ve got partway through or a whole new one - trudge back up the many flights of stairs, and then start typing from page to screen to produce a digitized document. It was imperative that no-one else see the documents, so they’d set you up in Hunnigan’s office as one of their most trusted agents.

Wanting to look professional whilst in the office but not break your neck on the stairs, you kept a selection of heels in your locker to swap out of for your reliable sneakers. Hunnigan was still working away when you packed up around 7pm, kicking off your heels to switch out, and had been in a lengthy, hushed tone call for the past hour. You nodded your head as you heaved the box of documents up in your arms, and she waved back in acknowledgement.

Beeping your ID card at the door, the lock buzzed and the door opened automatically – a godsend as the box you had today was particularly heavy – everything within held in those awful arch-lever folders.

As you emerged, you heard the puff of the elevator doors beginning to slide shut, not even giving it a moment of thought. You turned to the left to head down the stairs as usual, when a gloved hand slammed between the elevator doors, preventing them from closing with a thud and giving you a start, turning to see a face.

The face of Leon S Kennedy catches you entirely by surprise. He hadn’t even been by the office today to bother Hunnigan, though you know he does have his own desk somewhere in the building, maybe even his own office. He smiles at the sight of you, beckoning you over.

“Hey. Hop on in - I’m going down.”

You hesitate at the invitation. You haven’t been in an elevator for years and he’s just stood there, waiting, holding the door open. You have to say or do something. “You okay?”

Next thing you know, as if you’d been hypnotized, you were walking towards the elevator, then stepping over the threshold into a place you swore you never would enter again.

“Basement?” Leon fingers hover over the button panel in anticipation.

“Yeah. Thanks.”

He presses the buttons for ground and basement simultaneously with two fingers, and the door slides shut with another puff of air.

The elevator and your stomach begin to descend in unison.

This is fine.

“Looks heavy. Can I…?” He gestures to the box, offering to take it.

“Oh, thanks, but it’s okay.” You bump the box up with your knee, trying to strengthen your grip on it. Your palms are sweaty, but you’re not sure if the cause is the elevator or the handsome man besides you.

Leon crosses his arms, leans back against the wall. “They still not given you a lackey to do all the grunt work? I thought that’s what they took on interns for these days.”

“It’s difficult when no-one else is meant to handle it, let alone see it but me.” Leon gives you a quizzical look at that. “It’s protocol, narrows down the potential for leaks. If anything gets out, it’s on my head, so…”

“What about when you take breaks? You don’t…”

You nod, shifting the box in your arms again. Why do they feel like jelly? “Gotta lug it back downstairs to be locked back in the vault.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Mm-mm. It’s fine – good exercise for me, I guess, between sitting at the desk all day, so…”

“Surely they could at least give you a desk closer to the grou-“

The elevator’s smooth descent is transformed into a shudder, followed by a loud metallic screech and a sharp jerk that makes your stomach truly drop before all motion halts. No, no, no, no.

“Huh.” Leon muses, calm as anything. He immediately presses the emergency call button, illuminated in red, but the only sound that emits out of the speakers is static. He presses it again to the same result, and then in rapid succession, as if that’ll coerce it into working.

You tighten your grip on the box, wanting to tell him to stop but, thankfully, he gives up before you can have the strength to find your voice and pulls his cell out from his pocket.

“Damn, no reception.” He looks back over to you then with a sympathetic smile. “Well, this is one way to get overtime outta us, hey?”

There’s no chance to reply before the elevator plunges into darkness and you drop the box immediately, thankfully away from your feet. It can only be a few seconds at the most but it feels like an eternity before the emergency lighting comes on, casting the small metal prison in a pale yellow hue.

Leon’s staring at you, looking concerned. “You okay?”

“Y-yeah.” You reply, not at all convincingly. You bend down to pick up the box to escape that blue-eyed gaze for a moment, heaving it back up in your arms. “Is this… normal for this office?” You hope he can’t hear how tight your voice is.

“Power must be down, seems like the back-up generator kicked in.” The agent shrugs, looking around the elevator as if something of use might be around. “It’ll prioritize the critical systems – so I’d guess lights, vending machines and elevators are not gonna be particularly high up on that list.”

“Wonderful.” You reply, breathily. It’s warm. Should it be warm? “Here, let me just…” Leon reaches over and gently tugs the box from your weak grip, no sign of surprise at the weight of it as he takes it. “We don’t know how long we’ll be in here, so let’s put this down.”

“No, I shou-“

“I promise I’m not going to try and read any of it.”

You watch him as he places it down, he’s sure to bend with his knees rather than his back, and tucks it into the corner under the button panel, out of the way. He stands back up to his full height, looking at you for a response, but all you manage is a shaky nod.

“Are you feeling okay?” “Y-yeah. Fine.” “Mm. Not a great liar.” He tilts his head, scanning you with his eyes once more. “What’s the matter?” “I…” Another swallow in the hopes of your mouth not feeling so dry. “I don’t like elevators. Always take the stairs.” “Oh.” Not the answer he was expecting it seems. “Wait, why’d you get in, then?” “Well, er…” You hesitate again, how do you answer that? “You… You told me to.”

He can’t help the goofy smile that crosses his face. “Huh, that’s all it takes? Interesting. I’ll have to remember that.”

You’re about to ask him what that’s supposed to mean, the words just on the tip of your tongue when the elevator jerks and they turn into a shriek. It’s over before it even begins, really, but Leon’s reflexes now have you pressed up against the wall, his arms braced above your head to protect it from any sort of impact.

“It’s all right,” he says, softly. “I’m here, I’ve got you.”

Your heart is beating too fast, tears burn at your eyes at the fright. He’s so close, you can smell his cologne – musky, hints of vanilla – but this isn’t where you want to be having this moment.

“How about we sit down, huh?”

“I’m okay.” Your answer is breathy again, your chest feeling tight. Panting like you’d finished climbing up 12 flights of stairs.

“It’ll be more comfortable.”

“Don’t wanna…” You try and take a deep inhale, but it doesn’t seem to reach the bottom of your lungs. “Don’t wanna s-shake it.”

“You won’t.” He drops his arms from against the wall and instead grabs your hand, squeezes it in an attempt to ground you. “Trust me.”

You want to trust him, but the panic is too strong. This was such a bad idea, why did you do this?

“I…”

“We’ll do it together, okay?” He somehow coaxes you to shuffle forward and then slips in behind you, taking hold of your other hand. “Just lean against me and we’ll ease on down.”

Leon presses his chest firmly up against your back and you wonder if he can feel how hard your heart is beating. He wraps his arms around your waist next, meaning you’re hugging yourself in a way before he slides down against the elevator wall, bringing you down with him, onto the carpeted elevator floor. He thought it was a seamless maneuverer, but the way he’d felt your nails dig into his leather gloves from how tight your grip was, he knew you weren’t of the same opinion.

“There we go.” His thighs are spread either side of yours, now that you’re nestled inbetween his legs. “Worried you were gonna pass out – you’d gone really pale. Just sit here and concentrate on your breathing a minute, okay? Feel how I’m doing it.”

You close your eyes and try to concentrate on how he’s breathing, feeling his chest expand as he inhales, loudly and deliberately through his nose, holds the breath, then exhales heavily through his mouth, tickling the back of your neck.

You try and mimic him, get your inhales and exhales in sync and, slowly, the pressure begins to ease in your chest as you feel your breaths get deeper and deeper.

"Feeling a little better?”

His voice reverberates from his chest being pressed up against your back, feels comforting. “Yeah. Thank you.”

“Hey, don’t mention it. My fault you’re in here, after all.” He replies, gently. “I’m gonna move now, okay? Wanna check you’ve got the colour back in your cheeks.”

You nod, and he somehow manages to shuffle back and to the front of you with overly cautious movements – definitely for your benefit, ever the gentleman - withdrawing his legs into a crossed position and giving you a smile as he takes in your appearance. Being so fixed in his gaze makes your cheeks prickle with heat – maybe not the colour he’d hoped to be checking.

“Yeah, you’re looking better. Good.” He nods in affirmation, more to himself than you. “That noise – I think someone was trying to get the power back on, sounds like it only worked for a second before it could get going. The elevator’s not gonna fall.”

“How do you know?”

“I’ve had to disable some of them before – for work, I mean. They’re all equipped with multiple failsafe systems to prevent that exact scenario.”

“Disable them?”

“Just so they stop…” He gestures in a circle as he tries to find the words, “elevating, I guess, so I’m not pursued. Make ‘em take the stairs.”

“Ah, right.” You nod. “Wind them a bit.”

“Exactly. If you don’t mind me asking, you always been afraid of them?”

“No. Got stuck in one in an old apartment block years ago – it didn’t feel particularly modern. There were three of us – me and two drunk guys who kept jumping up and down, convinced that would make it move. The fire department got us out after two hours cos I had one of those… episodes. Haven’t been in one since.”

“Idiots.”

“They just kept laughing the more panicked I got. I felt so stupid.”

“Panic attacks are no joke. That box breathing always helps me if I feel on edge, though.”

“Yeah, that was really good.” You feel a shy smile creep over your face. “If I had to get suck in an elevator with anyone, I’m glad it was you.”

He practically beams. “Now I don’t feel quite so bad. I’ve gotta ask again though, you really got in here just because I said to?” He’s already seen you a panicking mess, so why not just be honest? “Your smile helped too.” “Well, consider me flattered.”

“It’s a nice smile…” You swallow, a little cautious of the next word. “Enticing.”

You swear you see a smidge of colour flush Leon’s cheeks then, but it must be a trick of the artificial lights. “Well, since we’re confessing – yours is too. That’s the real reason I was bothering Hunnigan. Wanted to see if I could win another.”

“You came to see me smile?” You’re definitely blushing now – cheeks prickling with the heat.

“Guilty. I don’t think you’d remember, but a week or so back I was having a real shitty day. Went to go debrief with Hunnigan and she wasn’t there, but you were. When I stormed in, you just gave me the best and most genuine smile I’d seen in days. Meant a lot.” He rubs the back of his neck, sheepishly.

You smile again, can’t help it, and he groans, jokingly. “Ugh, see? Not again – I don’t think my heart can take how sweet it is.”

You don’t know what to say to that but you’re excused when, suddenly, the lights transition overhead with a flicker from the emergency dulled tones to the standard, harsh fluorescent light and the elevator begins its smooth descent once more.

“Finally, huh?” Leon gets up easily to his feet and then offers you a hand.

“Yeah.” You accept it without hesitation, goosebumps prickling up your arm as he wraps his fingers around your hand and he pulls you up with ease. Slyly, his other hand now rests on the small of your back, drawing you in close…

The elevator dings, announcing its arrival on the ground floor and the doors slide open to reveal a maintenance worker, clad in blue overalls, waiting in the lobby. Leon draws back then, but still keeps his hand steady on your back.

“You two all right? Power-cut had rotten timing, I was gonna repair that emergency speaker tonight when most of the office was cleared out.”

“All good, thanks.” Leon bends down, picks up the box again without question and you follow him out of the elevator in pursuit, only to hear a cell begin to ring from his pocket. He balances the box with one arm – you’ve no idea how – and pulls out the device, frowning at the name on screen.

“Sorry, I’ve really gotta take this.” His brows furrow in annoyance. “You be okay with taking that downstairs?”

“Yeah, of course. I really should take it back now anyway, you know, just in case…” You trail off as he eases the box over to you, making sure you’ve got it properly before he lets go. “Thanks… for everything.”

“Pleasure was all mine.” He replies, sincerely, before reluctantly lifting the cell up to his ear.

“Kennedy.”

You leave him to his phone-call and head down the stairs for a thankfully unremarkable trip down to the vaults to replace the box back in its rightful place. It’d be a lie to say when you climbed back up to the lobby that you weren’t disappointed when there’s no trace of him to be found.

The next morning, after passing through the security check, you make your way down to the archive vault as usual, pressing your hand against the door panel to gain access. Sadly, you’ve still got a lot of work to do in the box you’d been working on yesterday, so you dutifully log its withdrawal in the computer system, and heave it up once more in your arms before heading out.

You only make it up one flight of stairs when you see him, leaned up against the stairway wall, one arm held against his chest whilst his other hand is holding his cell, squinting at some text. He looks up as you scuff your trainer on one of the steps and he smiles as you reach him, tucking his cell back away.

“Good morning.”

“Morning. What brings you here?” You curse inwardly. “I mean, not that it’s not a pleasant surprise, just…”

He waves it off. “I getcha. Well, I have some pretty good sway here, you know, so I’ve volunteered.”

“Volunteered for what?”

“Volunteered…” He steps forward and wraps his arms around the box, “..to be your stairs lackey.”

“Oh, no – it’s fine, honestly.” You feel flustered at the very idea. Leon’s one of the top, if not the top agent of the DSO. He can’t be doing manual labour for you, he shouldn’t. “You have so many better things to be doing. I can mana…”

“Please?” He tilts his head, gives you that enticing smile again. “I mean, I could just tell you,” – he teases – “but I thought I’d ask this time, so you’re sure.”

The smile makes you feel weak at the knees and you’d already proven yesterday you couldn’t resist its magic. “Okay. But you should definitely take the elevator then.”

“Uh-uh.” He shakes his head, taking the box into his arms. “It’s good cardio, got my weight-resistance. You’re practically doing me a favour by taking the stairs.”

“Is that so?”

“Mm-hm. Though,” he bites his lip in a pause, “I may have ulterior motives.”

“Right, and what would those be?”

“If I were to, say, visit the office around six tonight and carry this thing back down to the vault, maybe you’d go to dinner with me?”

God, you feel absolutely giddy - there’s no way you can hold back your smile. “I think that’s… acceptable.”

“Then we have a deal. Ladies first,” he nods with his head to up the stairwell.

“No, I… I think you should go first. Just so I can keep an eye on you on the way up. I’ve got to make sure you’re not sneaking a peek at the assets, you know?”

He quirks an eyebrow, you know he’s wondering what you’re thinking, but he shrugs it off all the same. “As you wish.”

And as you follow him up 12 flights of stairs, you slightly breathless and him seemingly fine, you can’t help but sneak a look at a different pair of assets before you.

---

Comments, likes and reblogs make my whole day x

Masterlist . Requests welcome . Ko-fi/Commissions

#ghostdogwrites #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy fluff #leon kennedy x you

482 notes · View notes

totallyhextra · 6 months

Text

People? In MY computer?? It's more likely than you think!

The following is a fanvertisment and is not connected to the show. ****Yet.*** *Also yes, this is the fourth time I'm posting this because TUMBLR WONT LET ME EDIT SPELLING MISTAKES!

ANYWAY,

Once upon a time, back in 1987, Dire Straits put out this music video for “Money for Nothing”, which, as you know, was a song about wanting my MTV.

youtube

The video was made by two guys (Gavin Blair and Ian Pearson) on a very moody computer. After the video went out, these two guys went to a pub:

Ian: “Hey, we should make a whole show like this!”

Gavin: “Dude, making three minutes almost killed us.”

And so it was decided!🎉

The two guys were joined by two other guys (Phil Mitchell and John Grace) and created the Hub, which then became Mainframe Entertainment. They got even more people, and then they all holed up in this hotel.

They were mad lads with a dream: a whole cgi animated show, and they made it happen a whole year before Toy Story!

Behold! ReBoot!

(Yes that fever dream was real)

Now before I get any of this:

Let me lay this down. If you can’t with the animation of the first season because it was CUTTING EDGE IN 1994, you can close your eyes and listen to it. ReBoot wasn’t just a CGI gimmick. The characters are fully developed, the voice actors are peerless, the plot is sharp, and there’s so many easter eggs that you’ll never find them all.

Never

(And yes the episode "Bad Bob" was the actual catalyst for Fury Road. Look it up)

ReBoot is about what life is like in a computer (in the 90s, because it was the 90s) called Mainframe (because of course it is). People are sprites, the guys that look like 1s and 0s are binomes (which represent 1s and 0s). Bad guys are viruses, and the good guy is a Guardian named Bob, who is a certified cinnamon roll.

In the first season the eps are light and self-contained, mainly because there was constant friction between the Mainframe studios and the Board of Standards and Practices.

They still got away with some pretty dark stuff, like Megabyte (virus) making Enzo (the kid) watch his dog get sliced open (dog got away, obviously) , Dot (sprite) have a hallucinatory breakdown, and the fridge horror of realizing the thousands of worm things (nulls) that plunged off a bridge to their death were actually people.

And Hex's (virus

best girl) scary face single-handedly traumatized an entire generation. 🙂

But busting through a window was a no go, because WhAt If tHe cHiLdReN dID iT tOo?

Anyway, halfway through the second season, ABC cut them loose, so they were like, fuck it, we’re going to start going hard. The story shifted from episodic to arcs and things start to get serious.

Third season the show moved to YTV in Canada, which gave no fucks about shielding the innocent children.

So it got DARK

How dark?

The UK refused to show the entire season, so the audience there had to wait until pirated copies made it across the pond to see how it ended.

Also by 1997, the animation was gorgeous. (Best example of third season animation I could think of that didn't have spoilers)

youtube

The show was green-lit for a fourth season on Cartoon Network, but halfway through production Warner Bros took over and the same fucking thing happened.

Because Mainframe was halfway done, they decided not to scrap all of it, but knowing they wouldn't be able to finish it correctly, Mainframe stripped anything that would hint at Season Four's true ending, then left what remained on a cliff-hanger of angst.

FOR 22 YEARS

(It's also why the last four eps of season four seem to make no sense)

And so it was.

Other crap happened, the soul left Mainframe, and its animated corpse spat out “The Guardian Code” in 2018.

But never say die! The year is (almost) 2024, 30 years later. ReBoot shall rise from the dead, because here come the documentary!!

youtube

Do you dare see what you’ve been missing?

What the (UK) government doesn’t want you to know??

Then come on down to ReBoot!

We got:

Magnificent bastards with sexy voices!

youtube

(Tony Jay at his best)

Kickass women who could probably crush your head with their thighs and you’d enjoy it!

Innuendos in a kid's show!

youtube

💗 This adorable cinnamon roll!! 💗

Insane third season glow-ups!

YOUR NEW GOD

These guys!

(Gay roller-skating binome is my boi. I named him Jerry)

Nonstop cultural refs (You'll never find them all. Never.)

(There are literally videos dedicated to trying)

So many computer puns!

Body Horror!

Existential Crisis!

HAVE I MENTIONED YOUR NEW GOD?

youtube

This is it, folks! The real thing, the gem hidden in the moose-filled forests of Canadia!🌲🌲🌲

Take a trip inside a mid-90’s computer!

See the World Wide Web! (omg):

Witness the original purple Gamecubes that randomly fall from the sky when the owner of the computer (OUR GOOD LORD THE USER) wants to play a game. If it lands on people and they lose, they dissolve into mindless energy leeches, fated to tormented by their former bretheren for all of eternity.

Just like in real life! 🙃

So watch the eps! They on YouTube!

youtube

I think they're on Pluto, Hulu, Sling, and Tubi too! Also DVDs for people who have the patience to wait for them!

WATCH! BELIEVE! SUFFER THE SOUL-CRUSHING RAGE OF THE SEASON 4 CLIFF-HANGER!* (come on, its fun!)*

HYPE THE DOC!

The more people hype, the better the chances of actually getting it finished.

NOW SHARE THIS WITH EVERYONE!

And now I will leave you with this screenshot from the ep "Painted Windows", where dicks can clearly be seen drawn upon the wall behind the fleeing anthropomorphized television.

(PS: If you heard the clown pic at the top of the page in your head, you're welcome)

IMPORTANT UPDATE

This message is now approved by Gavin Blair! He's an awesome guy. Show him some love on TWITTER (fuck you musk) at @TheRealMrSweary Also, if you want to share this with non-tumblr friends, here is my attempt at a webpage version:

theseventhstarprojects.com/REBOOT.html

886 notes · View notes

koqabear · 7 months

Note

Hiii congrats on 2k sol obsessed with everything you write!!!!💓 Could I request revisiting emo boy? Like what their relationship is like after and dates and how sex is like? Maybe beomgyu’s band really blows up and he’s quite busy, how does oc respond to this? And with smut? Tysm!!💝

playlist // beomgyu's encore outfit hehe // cont. of hey emo boy!

“The day of your one-year anniversary with Beomgyu was expected to be spent away from each other— but not if either of you can help it, far too in love to let anything get in the way of you two.”

bassist!beomgyu x fem!reader // wc: 6.6K (everyone stfu rn) // genre: band au, opposites attract trope, established relationship, smut, tooth rotting fluff tbh, MDNI.

warnings: they are in love and it’s fucking GROSS!! barely edited, the two have hella piercings hehe (bg: snake bites, tongue, eyebrow // mc: smiley & nipple piercings) pet names (sweet thing, pretty, etc.) use of the L word bc they are literally obsessed w/ each other.

smut warnings: hard dom! gyu, sub!mc, needy sex sorry 😖, marking, manhandling, dry humping, biting, breast play, possessiveness, unprotected sex, bg picks the mc up, scratching, dacryphilia, dumbification, a lot of kissing lol, degrading, slight praise, fingering, creampie, cum eating…? lmk if i should add anything !

Notes: happy (late) birthday to the fic that’s probably my peak… this story single handedly changed the course of my blog me thinks. thank you to everyone who was just as affected by emo gyu as i was.

Being in a committed relationship with Choi Beomgyu, bassist of Tomorrow x Together and an absolute unattainable heartthrob, was not very easy.

It was at first; with their blossoming career, it was more about the music than their looks. Fans were loyal simply because they liked their sound, their message, the way their concerts were filled with such energy and passion it left their hearts beating with adrenaline after— but of course, it’s hard to not notice the absolute eye candy on stage; low-lidded gazes, dark stage lights that barely highlighted their stunning features, and clothing that was just as alluring and flattering as the rest of them; inevitably, their popularity sky-rocketed, for better and for worse.

Beomgyu was left with more money than he knew what to do with. Most of the time, it was used to spoil you, his pretty girlfriend he brought with him everywhere because he was just too obsessed with you— it made his band members wonder if he simply had attachment issues by how much his world revolved around you. But no, you were just as bad as him; present during rehearsals, always in the studio to cheer them on or give them a second opinion on a new song; it wasn’t long before you ended up befriending the rest of them as well, a tight bond forming simply because of all the things you went through together.

As unfortunate as it was, they weren’t the only ones forced to bear with negative and hateful encounters from the public; while they had their experiences of being mistreated early in their career, you had to deal with immature or creepy fans that had taken a liking to harass you— inboxes on all social media platforms flooded constantly, your number even leaked once as you were forced to buy a new phone all together from how badly you were being spammed— Beomgyu had been quick to lash out and tell them to leave you alone if they didn’t want a lawsuit on their hands.

Overtime, they adjusted to their popularity. Schedules slowly became filled to the brim, their dream now a reality as they spent months on tour— and while you were more than happy and proud of them and their flourishing career, it’d be a lie to say it was all one happy and perfect life.

You hadn’t seen Beomgyu in ages— decades, centuries, eons— in other words, two weeks.

The band had more interviews and performances than you could keep up with; if they weren’t on some random talk show, they were at a photoshoot, getting interviewed for the next issue of a magazine you’d undoubtedly have on your coffee table the day it came out. Promotions, nights at the studio, it all added up— and before you knew it, your one year anniversary began to creep up, and all hopes to celebrate it properly dwindled down in your heart— but, having him here with you today was enough.

You didn’t blame Beomgyu; you weren’t angry or upset, because it was simply something neither of you could control. And though it did suck knowing you wouldn’t be able to spend such a meaningful day together, it felt a little better to know that you weren’t the only one hung up on it.

On the contrary— you think Beomgyu might be handling this worse than you.

“Baby, baby please,” he cries, refusing to let go of you and cuddling closer to you instead, a mess of tangled limbs and blankets as he cups your face fondly, “pleaaase I know you said I shouldn’t feel bad but please come on tour with us this week, I think I’ll seriously die if you’re not here this time.”

“Gyu, baby, I really shouldn’t—” you say quietly, only to get cut off by his excessive whining and teary eyes. His bottom lip is jutted out in a ridiculous pout, squeezing your cheeks and holding back a smile at the way your lips puff out as a result; you attempt to push him off you, only for him to retaliate by rolling entirely on top of you, a loud squeal escaping you at the feeling of his weight pressing you into the mattress, his stupid face hovering over yours as he continues to plead you quietly.

“Pleaaseee?” he whines, pressing his flat palms against your cheeks and getting your lips to puff out again; he ignores your half-hearted protests for him to get the fuck off, choosing to punctuate his every word with a kiss instead, his piercings a sharp contrast to his plump lips that crash against you with every word.

“Please?” kiss. “Won’t you,” kiss. “come with us?” another kiss.

“Please. Pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease—”

He’s practically suffocating you at this point, refusing to pull away and mumbling the words against your lips, laughs breaking between the two of you as you yell at him to get off, that you can barely breathe with him on top of you; you’re pushing at his shoulders weakly as he continues to tease you, your unabashed laugh contagious as he quickly finds himself smiling as well— he only pulls away once he hears you yell a loud fuck, okay! Hovering over you with bright eyes and a wide grin.

His arms snake around your waist before he’s rolling over, successfully switching so that you’re the one on top of him— he ignores the loud and exaggerated sigh of relief you let out.

“It won’t make much of a difference though,” you say quietly, hiding in the crook of his neck as you confess your doubts, “You’ll be too busy and exhausted the whole day, I really don’t want me to be added to your list of concerns.”

You went on tour with him, once— but you learned it was better off to not be anywhere backstage with him during those times, the boy too concerned and constantly doting on you to remain focused; any mistakes he made hitting much harder, a subconscious pressure to be perfect and give his all only trifolded by your presence.

“What? No,” he says immediately, sitting back on his elbows and causing you to look up at him in response; his brows are furrowed and he seems a bit baffled by your comment, shaking his head adamantly to emphasize his point, “I like having you there. I know you like being there, I want you there— I wouldn’t be asking you to come with me if I thought you were a burden.”

He managed to pull out the exact words you were trying to skirt around— your face heats up at his reassurance, much too intimidated by the intensity of his gaze as you bury your face into his chest instead; his chest bounces from the laugh he lets out, flopping onto his back once more and hugging you close, bodies pressed flush against each other and one of his legs thrown around your waist in a childish attempt to pull you even closer.

“Plus, don’t you wanna visit Europe with me?” he asks, a teasing lilt to his voice as he feels you nod shyly; he knows just how much you enjoy the travel aspect to his career, constantly asking for pictures or to facetime while he’s gone, “I wanna show you all my favorite spots this time, and not through some glitchy facetime— I wanna spend time with you, sweet thing.”

“Ugh, shut up,” you groan, hitting his chest weakly as he simply laughs at you softly, “you’re so corny.”

“You love it,” he coos, rubbing a soothing hand up and down your back, biting back a smile at the way he can feel your breath even out— you remain silent. Partly because you’re falling asleep from his touch, and partly because he’s right.

⤬⤬⤬

Europe is breathtaking— you’ve never been so grateful for Beomgyu’s stubborn, persistent mind.

The tour has gone as perfect as always, spending a few days at their shows before you simply resigned to stay at the hotel instead; after seeing that Beomgyu was so distracted trying to look for you during a show that he missed his cue (and played the notes wrong to another song) you found it better to wait for him and see him after instead— ready to help him wind down and relax after another energetic, adrenaline-inducing show.

Most nights consisted of you practically carrying him to the bathtub; cooing soft reassurance as he whined about how tired and sore he felt, shampooing his hair, massaging his scalp and tense shoulders— most of the time, he’d fall asleep then and there, and it’d be another hassle to wake him up and get him out. You’d lure him out of the tub and wait for him to change into your matching pajamas— hello kitty ones, his idea, not yours— and greet him in the bed with a warm embrace and lips that peppered kisses all over his face.

It was during these moments you found humor in the contrast of his stage persona to his true self; from his usual attire, chokers and ripped clothes, wardrobe consisting of black and multiple piercings that decorated his ears and face, your thumb brushing over his newest eyebrow piercing fondly— versus the man that slept soundly in your arms now, long hair tied back and cute pink barrettes clipping back his bangs, donned in hot pink fuzzy pajamas— and you’re sure that if his band members saw him like this, they’d never stop teasing him.

You didn’t have to wait long to confirm that thought; Beomgyu didn’t bother changing as he met up with the others in Yeonjun’s room for breakfast the next morning, tugging you along and remaining unfazed at the way his band members burst out laughing the moment he entered the room— you felt a bit bad at the way you found yourself laughing as well, even more so because you’re the only reason he’s found himself dressed like this. (But again, he was the one who bought these clothes in the first place.)

“Happy anniversary, you two,” Yeonjun muses, smiling at the way you’re the only one who seems to process that, chirping out a cheery thank you! as you proceed to drag Beomgyu to the couch, “I feel bad that we have a concert today, ___. As vomit-inducing as it is seeing you two, you do deserve to spend the day together.”

“It’s okay,” you immediately say, brushing his teasing comment off and holding back a smile at the way Beomgyu is still struggling to gain consciousness, more tired than you thought as he simply stares at his waffles for a moment before finally digging in, “at least he’s spending the day doing something he loves.”

“Gross,” Hueningkai says, scrunching his nose playfully before laughing at the glare you send him, “you two are so mushy, it’s painful.”

The rest of the day leading up to the concert is spent peacefully; once Beomgyu has gained enough coherence to fight back against the member’s jabs, he’s pulling you away to show you new sights and stores he discovered from his previous visits, spoiling you beyond belief and buying anything you look at for a second too long; you end up with more bags than you know what to do with, and Beomgyu refuses to let you carry a single one as he proceeds to take you one of his go-to restaurants, as he told you; saying he’s been wanting to bring you here since the moment he found it, smiling brightly when he sees you enjoying the food as much as he did.

To say he’s reluctant to leave you to go to the concert venue is an understatement; you think he might start crying at any given moment as he stares at you with shining eyes, unable to let go of your hand as he stands by the door of the hotel room— not quite ready to leave yet, but knowing that he must eventually as he chooses to bring you in for another slow, loving kiss instead.

“Are you sure you’re not coming tonight?” he asks you, trying to hide the sadness in his voice and failing miserably.

“And make you fuck up your setlist? I don’t think so,” you try to joke, only to panic slightly at the way his eyes gloss over; your hand immediately jumps up to cup his face, laughing softly at his expression as he simply pouts at you ridiculously.

“Hey, hey, it’s alright,” you grin, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips before you lean over to his ear, voice dropping to nothing but a whisper as you let your lips brush against his ear, “I’ll have a nice surprise for you tonight, so you better give your best show out there, okay?”

The low lilt of your voice is enough to have him perking up immediately; mouth parted slightly as he stares at you, unsure of what else to do but nod pathetically, knowing he won’t be able to control himself if he thinks about what you might have in store for too long.

With one last chaste kiss, he’s leaving— and only because Soobin was pounding at the door, telling him they’d be late if he didn’t go out this instant— you think he might start crying as he gives you one last pouty glance, waving to you sadly before he slips out the door.

You’re left alone, the room suddenly much lonelier and quieter than it was a few seconds ago— and you laugh, checking the time and running to your suitcase to get your makeup and outfit for tonight.

A revealing shirt, a mini-skirt that’s a bit alarmingly short— you’re pulling out a sparkling, pink outfit like it’s nothing, throwing it all on and doing your makeup as you check the time absentmindedly; your phone lights up while you’re in the middle of doing so, and a notification reads that the staff are waiting for you outside to take you to the venue once you’re ready.

Beomgyu loves performing knowing you’re in the audience more than anything; it’s something he’s made blatant to you, knowing that despite his mistakes, despite his small distractions, his energy always goes out the roof the moment he spots you there. So you knew how distraught Beomgyu would be to hear that you’re not going to the show tonight despite being able to, but the thought of surprising him is much more enticing than you’d like to admit.

With one last check of your appearance in the mirror, you grab a jacket before you go; Beomgyu’s favorite oversized zip-up, the clothing item a stark contrast to the rest of your feminine and bright attire— and you smile, adjusting the purse on your shoulder before you’re off to the hotel lobby, where the staff are waiting and ready to escort you safely.

The venue is almost full by the time you get there; you’re escorted straight to your barricade seats front and center, smiling shyly and waving at fans that seem to recognize you; your face feels hot and you walk faster at the way they get excited at the sight of you, not used to the fame that comes with being Beomgyu’s girlfriend— hell, you really don’t know how Beomgyu does it.

You’re more than relieved once the concert begins, any attention that still lingered on you immediately getting stolen by the boys that appeared on stage; you winced slightly at the loud screams all around you, unable to help the way you eventually joined in— morphing into another fan in the crowd, the venue much too dark for any of the boys to recognize you just yet.

They looked stunning in their concert outfits; the professional, matching and dark outfits tailored perfectly to each member, intricate with chains and rosaries and pretty layers. Your eyes widen as you watch Beomgyu walk to his position, taking note of his hair that has now been dyed back to black— you hadn’t realized how long it’d gotten until now, the layers framing his face and falling into his eyes as he goes to push back his bangs with a delicate hand.

There are no introductions tonight— the music begins immediately, loud and abrasive and making the crowd jump along excitedly, screaming the lyrics and reaching out to try and get one of the members to pay attention to them— on the contrary, you try to remain hidden, looking away and bowing your head every time Beomgyu’s gaze sweeps around your area.

God, you wish Beomgyu didn’t turn into such a ditz whenever he spotted you in the audience— because then you’d be able to enjoy more of their concerts, addicted to the borderline euphoric feeling you get from attending them, only for it to be multiplied as your eyes catch onto your boyfriend performing, your heart pounding against your chest at the sound of his voice ringing out into the venue— a surge of pride and love fills you as a grin spreads on your face, and it isn’t until you notice a member walking around that you’re able to look away from him.

Looking up, you make eye contact with Hueningkai.

His mischievous smile and raised brows are immediately returned with a violent shake of your head; telling him to not say anything to Beomgyu, rubbing your hands together pleadingly the moment he glances back at the said man— then he turns to you, sending you a playful wink before he’s off to another section, not without sending you one last teasing grin and a wave; you’re glancing at Beomgyu in a panic, unsure if he’s spotted you, only to be relieved at the sight of him too concentrated on playing to even look up at the crowd.

It isn’t until the encore that they’ve all begun to move around, (save for Taehyun and Soobin, bound to their instruments as they’re resigned to simply wave at the crowd when they can) changed into more comfortable outfits during a small intermission— Beomgyu is decked in baggy jeans and an equally baggy shirt, long hair messy and makeup smudged as he walks along the stage, smiling and waving at fans that reach out for him— he plays his bass so effortlessly as he does, truly mesmerizing as he stops a few times to interact with fans; the sight has your heart fluttering hopelessly.

But the closer he gets, the more you’re buzzing with nervous energy. Gripping onto the barricade tightly, having stood up long ago with the rest of the fans that are eager to get their attention. Beomgyu’s eyes scan through the crowd thoroughly, smiling cutely and returning hearts until he spots you.

He freezes entirely.

He’s no longer playing bass— he’s just standing there, in complete shock as he stares at you. You can only muster to give him a sheepish wave, an uncontrollable grin on your face as you laugh at his dumbfounded expression, trying to yell at him to go back to playing. But he doesn’t, and you’re jumping slightly at the way he takes off his bass and jumps off the stage, security frantically following behind as he rushes over to you.

His hands are on your face and he’s pulling you in for a kiss quicker than you can process; you hear the screams of the crowd around you, but Beomgyu’s got you in his hold so tightly that you’re unable to pull away, left to give in and melt against him as he kisses you for a little longer. Your face feels as though it’s on fire by the time he’s pulled away, his own alight entirely with joy as he grins at you, your head still in his hands as he leans against the barricade excitedly— you think he might just jump over it any moment now.

“You’re here?” he says exasperatedly, eyes scanning you frantically as though he were imagining you, “why didn’t you tell me, you should’ve— I would’ve—”

“Beomgyu,” you cut him off, placing your hands over his and laughing at the way he can only stutter stupidly, brushing his hair behind his ear fondly— watching the way his eyes crinkle cutely as he smiles, your own sweeping over the array of piercings that decorate him, hello kitty earrings glinting under the light— and pry his hands off your face, ignoring the pout he sends you as you scold him instead. “Get back on stage!”

Your words seem to snap him out of his reverie; his head is whipping back to look at the stage, at the way his friends can only laugh at him teasingly and yell at him to get back here— the way Yeonjun yells directly into the mic is slightly embarrassing, shrinking at the way all eyes are on you as the man’s words ring out the venue— Beomgyu, get the fuck back here!

He’s only able to leave with one last chaste kiss— the crowd is screaming at the sight, and you’re resisting the urge to cover your face in weak hopes that it could take all this attention off you— but you’ll bear it, especially with the way Beomgyu mouths a cute I love you! before he’s jumping back on stage.

The poor boy is unable to take his eyes off you for the rest of the night— but on the bright side, there are no missed cues or wrong notes played. He’s just entranced with you for the rest of the encore, his energy seemingly replenished with the way he jams out to the music; mouthing the lyrics even when it’s not his part, maintaining eye-contact with you during songs he knows you’re particularly fond of— and suddenly, the idea of spending his anniversary at a concert isn’t as depressing as it was earlier tonight— because now, he had you by his side.

⤬⤬⤬

“Beomgyu— Beomgyu please, not here…” you whine, unable to do much but bite your lip and swallow back whines that threaten to escape you, left to Beomgyu’s mercy as he immediately led you to his dressing room after the show— the said man is much too focused on kissing and marking your neck to listen, soft hair brushing against your face as he pulls you flush against him; back pressed against the wall, arched prettily from the way his hands snake around your waist and press your lower half against his— you’re holding back a groan at the way he’s already hopelessly hard against you.

“Why didn’t you tell me you’d be coming? Hmmm? Just wanted to be a tease? Was this your little surprise?” he asks, biting at your skin and huffing out a laugh at the whine that escapes you; your hands are gripping onto his shirt tightly, fisting it in your hands and wrinkling the material as he lets his teeth sink slightly near your collarbones, “god, you look so good tonight, you’d really expect me to be able to hold myself back?”

His hands are wandering down your waist; over the swell of your ass, fiddling with the hem of your mini-skirt before he’s venturing under it— feeling the way you shiver against him the moment his hands squeeze at the soft flesh, fingers decorated with rings cold against your skin as he comes back up to kiss you. It’s rough and desperate, lip rings scratching as he kisses you with such hunger it leaves you breathless; he grinds his cock desperately against you, eliciting a small gasp from you and allowing him to slip his tongue inside— the piercing that decorates it scrapes along your mouth, unable to help the way your knees weaken at the feeling of him— his touch is everywhere, leaving you dizzy and lightheaded as you can only melt against him, allowing him to press you flush against the wall with his own body; your miniskirt is riding up along your hips as he situates himself between your legs, panties already a mess as he begins to rut his cock into you.

“Are you sure you want to wait now, pretty?” he asks, looking down at you with low-lidded and fucked out eyes— he punctuates his words with a particularly harsh thrust, laughing at the way you yelp and tighten your hold on him, “I could stop everything right now, send you back to the hotel like this and make you wait, just like you said— is that what you want?”

Oh, he’s cruel— even more so because you’re left shaking your head no deliriously, your mind fogged with such need that your eyes are glossing over at the very thought of not having Beomgyu inside you right now; your voice is pathetic as you plead Beomgyu to finish what he started, throwing a hand over his shoulder and entangling your fingers into his hair as you pull him back into you— he’s more than eager to return the kiss, tilting his head and pressing himself more against you as a hand reaches down to your thigh; grabbing the back of your knee, guiding you to hook it around his waist as he begins to rut into you mindlessly.

“So cute, my pretty girl,” he mumbles against your lips, eyes trailing down your low-cut top to spot his favorite zip-up, a smile tugging at his lips as he merely sends you a cute smile, “did you miss me that much? Already so needy from a little bit of kissing— god, I love you so much…”

You think he’s mostly talking to himself at this point— spewing nothing but filth as his hands shove your shirt over your chest, grinning as he remains impatient enough to not take off a single item of clothing, choosing to push tug your bra down harshly before he’s swooping down to mark your breasts with a cruel smile.

“Looked so fucking hot out there, just made me wanna take you backstage and fuck you there,” he confesses, listening to the choked whine you let out, his pierced tongue playing with your hardened nipples, leaving them swollen and sensitive. He’s looking up at you with doe eyes that contrast greatly with the way he sticks his tongue out for you, letting you watch the way he circles and toys with the cute jewelry he bought for you earlier today, pulling away with a coy smile and leaving them soaked with his spit— he blows softly on them, watching with tentative eyes as you keen at the feeling.

“God, you know I’ve been wanting to do this every time I see you at one of our shows? To make sure that everyone that looks at you knows just who,” he rolls his hips into you, nice and slow and letting you feel the length of his cock press against you as you flutter your eyes shut from pleasure, “you’re here for?”

“Fuck, gyu,” you pant out, snaking your hands under his shirt and up his back, grabbing at his shoulders and pulling him into you— as if there’s still space between the two of you, as if you’d die if you weren’t touching him at all times, “‘m only yours, only want you…”

He’s sneaking a hand down to move your panties to the side, the two of you much too desperate to shed off any layers— and as you listen to the clinking sounds of his belt, undoing his jeans and pulling out his hardened cock, you busy yourself by sucking and biting at his neck, listening to his stuttered breaths as you suck and tease at the joint of his neck, his most sensitive spot as you bite at it playfully— you’re only pulling away at the feeling of Beomgyu grabbing at you hair and tugging you away, letting out a baffled laugh at the satisfied look you give him in return.

“Want everyone to know you’re mine,” you coo out softly, grinding your pussy slowly against Beomgyu’s tip that teases your entrance, your mouth falling open at the feeling of him mirroring the action, running along your folds and swiping at your clit, “all mine, my pretty boy…”

He laughs fondly against your lips at that— bringing you in for a slow kiss, feeling the way your mind goes blank the moment his tip slowing enters you; he’s swallowing a soft moan from you as he bottoms out slowly, keeping himself deep inside and grinding his hips slowly against yours— and he stays there, a tease like always as he watches your brows furrow and your lips pout, telling him softly to move, to do something.

“Mmmh, all yours,” he mumbles softly, pulling out slowly to let you feel the way every vein runs against your walls, clenching and fluttering against his length as he hisses at the feeling, “I’m yours, belong only to you, fuck…”

He’s not able to keep this agonizingly slow pace up for long— as much as he wants to tease you, to have you crying and pleading for him to fuck you stupid, he isn’t fairing that well himself— so it isn’t long before he’s beginning to snap his hips into you, cock curving and aiming for that spot that has your knees buckling, pretty nails digging into Beomgyu’s shoulders and biting at the skin in order to try to stabilize yourself.

“Such a perfect cunt— fuck, ah, just wanna fill you up, wanna see it dripping down those pretty thighs— stupid fucking skirt can’t hide anything, ugh—” his voice is deep and breathy as he continues to talk into your ear, his hands sliding down to the swell of your ass before he’s holding it there— lifting you up, forcing you to hook your legs around his waist as you’re left to his mercy; his chest is pressed flush against yours as he fucks you, and you can only bury your face into his neck to try and muffle your sounds, the rough way you bounce from his thrusts causing your nails to slip and scratch down his back— he hisses at the feeling, only to be spurred by the stinging sensation it leaves behind.

“So loud, shit,” he laughs meanly, grinning at the way you only bury your face into him more to try and muffle your sounds, “want everyone to hear you? All the staff, the members— I’m sure they’d like to see what a pretty doll you are for me.”

You shake your head at that— but your body gives you away as your cunt clenches around him pathetically, the wet sounds of skin against skin filling the room and undoubtedly filtering outside— but you remain persistent to keep your moans to yourself, choking back on sounds of pleasure as Beomgyu only begins to fuck you rougher; your silence is a challenge, one he’ll gladly take as he begins to roll his hips into you just the way you like it.

“Come on pretty, I wanna hear you,” he purrs into your ear, a hand snaking around to rub at your clit while the other remains firm on your ass, “don’t you feel good? I can make you feel even better— so, so so good, just let me hear your cute little sounds.”

You’re playing hard to get. And Beomgyu takes absolute pleasure in it, watching the way you shake and dig your nails into him helplessly, your body being wound up from how good he fucks you; your thighs are sticky and shining from your arousal, poorly concealed pleasure only fueling Beomgyu’s ego further as he reaches up to tug your head out from it’s hiding spot.

He thinks he might just cum on the spot; your makeup is ruined, tears of mascara running down your cheeks as you merely let out soft hiccups of moans, your lips parted and brain completely empty as you stare at him— he smiles at you in return, capturing your lips in another kiss as his hand begins to trail down; toying with your breasts, nimble fingers pinching and rolling your nipples as you jolt and whine into his mouth at the sensation.

“Gyu— gonna— need to, ah…!” the choked whimpers you let out aren’t enough for Beomgyu, and he only slows down at your request; fresh tears stream down your cheeks as you plead softly, breathy voice barely above a whisper as you whine quietly to keep going, don’t stop, please gyu, pleeaaase….

“Hmm? What’s that? I can’t hear you, baby,” he murmurs softly against your lips, slowing to nothing but a grind as he presses himself against you— pelvis grinding against your clit, the feeling making you tremble as you dig your nails into his shoulders once more. “Come on sweet thing, tell me what you need.”

You’re telling him— begging, pleading, breathy whimpers and soft cries escaping you as you roll your hips into him, biting your lip and sighing exasperatedly at the way he simply watches you with dark eyes, slowing down until he’s simply bottomed out inside you.

“What do you want?” he asks softly, breathy voice intertwined with a lilt so sweet you’d almost think he pities you— and by the way he’s looking at you, he just might, swollen lips caught between his teeth to try and suppress a smile. You’re still weak and quiet as you try to voice your wants, looking at him through wet lashes, a pout on your face as your hands run absentmindedly up and down his back.

“Wanna cum?” he coos, pretty hand reaching down to circle and pinch your clit teasingly, “Want me to fuck you? Fill you up? Hmmm?”

All you can do is nod along to his words stupidly— and obviously, it’s the very last thing your boyfriend wants, abandoning your clit and reaching up to grab your face roughly; fingers digging into your cheeks, forced to look at him as he merely glares at you and speaks through gritted teeth.

“Tell me,” he says, voice sharp and dangerous as he narrows his eyes, “use your words— or, don’t tell me I’ve fucked you dumb already.”

He’s unhooking one of your legs from his waist at that; you’re stumbling slightly, leg too weak to let you stand as you merely cry at him to wait, bringing him closer to you in fear that he might pull out and leave you like this— his fingers still dig into your cheeks as you speak, drool building up at the corners of your pouty lips as you stutter out exactly what you want— what he wants to hear.

“Want you to fuck me, use me— wanna cum, please,” you cry out, eyes squeezing shut as he shakes your head teasingly, as though to say and what else? “Want you to cum inside, baby please, just wanna feel good—”

You’re rambling at this point. But Beomgyu enjoys it nonetheless, telling you to keep going as he begins to move again; slowly at first, allowing you to feel the drag of his thick cock against your walls as your words become stuttered through weak moans, the sight making your boyfriend laugh as he slowly begins to pick up his pace.

“Like it when I fuck you like this, yeah?” you’re nodding in confirmation to his words; staring at him with pleading eyes, whimpering a soft harder, faster, that the man is immediately obliging as he coos at the way you yelp at the sensation. “Want it harder? Hmmm? Want me to fuck you ‘till you can’t even walk—? Have to carry you out of here, let everyone see the way your sweet cunt is filled up by me?”

All you can do is nod to his words at this point; whimpering a weak yes, yesyesyes, want you to fill me up, use me, more more please—

Everything crashes down on you unexpectedly; your eyes are shutting tight and you think you might just black out as your orgasm hit you suddenly, cunt squeezing and fluttering around Beomgyu’s cock as he groans at the sensation— he lets you ride it out, cooing soft praise into your ear before he’s pulling you in for another kiss; you’re barely able to kiss him back, moaning into his mouth and letting him do whatever he wants with you.

It isn’t long before he’s cumming inside you as well; you’re so tight he can barely move, your cute whimpers and warm cunt guiding him through it as he fucks into you slowly, making sure none of his release slips out as he continues to fuck you, even after he’s become horribly sensitive. Then he’s still, lips still on yours and arms wrapped tightly around you as though he’s afraid to let you go.

“You okay?” he asks quietly after a moment, still lingering close to you, taking in your appearance with tentative eyes. You nod softly, still attempting to catch your breath as you chest heaves against his; he huffs out a soft laugh, caressing your cheek fondly before he’s going to fix your clothes— your mini-skirt remains up on your hips, his cock still bottomed out inside you as he coos about how good you were for him, caressing any skin he can get his hands on (which is a lot, considering your wardrobe) with a smile.

“Pretty girl, so perfect,” he coos, finally pulling out and tucking himself in before he’s going to fix your clothing; not without slipping his fingers inside your cunt one last time, watching with hungry eyes as you curl into him and cry that you’re sensitive— he’s only satisfied after his cum is left snug in your pussy, smiling darkly at the way he brings his fingers up to your mouth for you to clean— you do it without any hesitation, and Beomgyu swears he might just be getting hard again.

“Love you so much, thank you for coming to see me today,” he says instead, bringing you in for a warm hug and a loving kiss; you merely hum tiredly in response, hands slipping out from his shirt only to be thrown over his shoulders leisurely.

Your face feels hot the moment he’s trying to get the two of you to leave back for the hotel— because your legs are absolutely not cooperating with you.

“Holy shit, I was joking about that whole fuck you till you can’t walk thing,” he laughs, only to get cut of by the way you hit him in response— he’s letting out an exaggerated whimper at that, rubbing his arm and telling you sorry, sorry baby, with a cute pout.

“Ugh, I don’t want anyone to see me like this, fuck,” you mourn, only for Beomgyu to pull you into his side firmly, sending you a smile that’s not as reassuring as you wish it was.

“I’m sure no one will notice,” he says simply, swinging the door open and immediately being met with Soobin passing by.

He slows down at the sight of you two, glancing at your appearances briefly before he keeps walking.

“Try to keep it down next time please,” he yells out, turning the corner and disappearing from your sight before you can retaliate. You feel slightly mortified by his words, but Beomgyu isn’t affected in the slightest as he leans over to murmur softly into your ear.

“Should we continue this at the hotel, pretty?”

You don’t answer his question. But he already knows the answer, sending you a giddy smile and intertwining his fingers with yours as he leads you to where the staff car is waiting for you two— and you hold back a smile of your own as you trail (limp, kinda) behind him. It’ll be a long night, but you couldn’t ask for a better way to spend your anniversary, no matter how unconventional it is.

#txt fanfic #txt fanfiction #txt imagines #txt oneshots #txt ff #txt x reader #txt smut #txt hard hours #txt hard thoughts #beomgyu smut #beomgyu ff #beomgyu imagines #beomgyu oneshot #beomgyu x reader #[2k event!]#[nsfw]#[revisiting stories]

779 notes · View notes

cheolinnie · 4 months

Text

Morning cuddles

hes such a cutie i js wanna put him in my pocket 🥺🥺

Wonwoo fluff, short

A teeny bit suggestive

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Yes, that sounds great, okay see you guys next week."

You ended the online meeting and closed your laptop. You eyelids automatically closing down as you stretch and yawn out loud, still clearly tired.

These meetings are killing me, why do the have to be so early in the morning??

Just as you were about to stand up, you felt someone wrap their arms around you. You giggled and turned around to see a topless Wonwoo, who was clearly ready to go back to sleep with you in his arms.

"Hi", you whispered towards him.

"We're going back to bed." which came out more like a statement from Wonwoo

He walked closer to you, moved your chair away from the desk as picked you up from it single handedly.

"Heyyy!" you shouted, and slightly punching his broad shoulders as he threw you over them. He brought you back to your shared bed, before face planting himself next to you. "When did you wake up?" you asked, looking over at him.

"two minutes ago," Wonwoo replied. "Its still so early," he said and grabbed one of the pillows. "C'mere," he pulled you closer.

You scooted over and laid down next to him. He wrapped his arm around you, as you hugged him back, putting your head into the crook of his neck. You grabbed the duvet from your side and threw it over onto both your bodies.

"Tired?" you softly asked him.

"Yeah, we've been rehearsing a lot," he sighed out, "but once the concerts are done, we'll be free for awhile."

"Any plans?" you questioned as you looked up at Wonwoo.

"Hmm, probably meet my parents and then spend all my time with you, cooking together, going on dates, making out with you and having se-" you put your hand on top of his mouth to stop him from speaking. "Okay okay i get it, that sounds nice though." you replied to him as you removed your hands off of Wonwoo.

Wonwoo moved his hands from your waist to your ass in a swift motion, as you lazily reached over to check the time on his phone. "Do you need to go back to work?" Wonwoo asked you.

"I can spare half an hour," you said as you glide your hands from his arms to his bare chest. "You can too, you don't need to leave for an hour." you said as you looked at him.

"I love days like this." he commented, "but i like it more if we had the whole day." he leaned down to kiss your lips, as he pulled you closer to his warm body.

"Wonwoo..." you weren't sure what he was up to early in the morning.

"you said you have half an hour to spare right? let's use it wisely then.." His hands slid back to your waist as he put his hands underneath your shirt. His hands almost melting from how warm you body is.

Het got on top of you, and heavily started to make out with you. He started kissing your cheeks, nose and then down to your jawline.

"is this your wise way of using my spare time?" you giggled as you looked at his messy hair. "well then why don't you suggest something better?" wonwoo smirked back as he looked at you. "nothing." was all you could say. "Thats what i thought." he continued to kiss you all over body and very much intended to get things done in your remaining spare time.

#seventeen imagines #wonwoo fluff #jeon wonwoo #seventeen wonwoo #fluff #wonwoo x reader #wonwoo scenarios #svt #seventeen

354 notes · View notes

favcharacterpoll · 7 months

Text

ROUND 6 MATCH 3: CECIL VS. C!WILBUR

Cecil Palmer from Welcome to Night Vale faces c!Wilbur from the dsmp. @10piecechickenmcnugget get over here sage

Cecil Propaganda:

"Cecil is not only the Tumblr sexyman, he is the first gay protagonist of a podcast that most of us have ever heard. From the very first episode he was unashamedly queer and no one has ever called him out or given him shit for being gay. He is a gay Jewish fashion disaster who is the mouthpiece for an incredibly bizarre town and plays the whole “this horrifying thing is completely normal”thing so well. If Cecil wasn’t there, I think a lot of people wouldn’t have felt so accepted for just being who they were. Cecil is an inspiration and the queer podcast rep we all deserved as we were growing."

"he’s gay. he’s a dilf. he’s ageless. he has been since there’s was nothing and he’s still here after the world ended. he can summon music. his mother is a oracle his father is a tree. his cat is a man who got cursed and also has wings a stinger and poison??? he thinks a tutu and crocs is formal wear and has talked to god and she said ‘I love you. I’m sorry’. he’s definitely guilty of manslaughter from negligence"

"this is the website Night Vale built!"

c!Wilbur Propaganda:

"Accurate depiction of mental health and spiral, handled delicately and deliberately, every piece of his story was thought and planned and in the end he went home to Utah. Thank you lord."

"Please don’t let the name dream smp effect how you feel about this submission, this character is completely unrelated to dream and I’m pretty sure the person who played him has nothing to do with dream anymore. This man single handedly got me through a horrible patch filled with extreme paranoia by also being extremely paranoid. Genuinely really helped me feel seen and I coped a lot by getting invested in this character. I almost cried when he died :("

"He’s so fucking stupid. I could infodump for hours this man transed my gender. Everything has gone wrong in his life. He’s the definition of a bisexual disaster."

"I didn’t fail 10th grade math bc I was thinking about c!wilbur for him to lose round one"

"I mean look at him!! his Minecraft skin is adorable!!!"

"if you people vote for cwilbur i'll draw him in a bikini."

"A VOTE FOR C!WILBUR IS A VOTE FOR GIRLBOYS EVERYWHERE"

"i should not have underestimated minecraft fans they came together"

"Season 1 changed me. I didn’t know minecraft videos could have good acting, dramatic plots, etc. Wilbur was one of the best there. His plot was so interesting with the L’Manburg and the unfinished symphony arcs. He was funny, dramatic, sad… I fondly remember my dsmp days (though I only saw up to like part of Tommy’s exile)"

#polls #wtnv cecil #cecil gershwin palmer #cecil palmer #wtnv #welcome to night vale #c!wilbur #c wilbur #cwilbur #dsmp wilbur #wilbur soot #dsmp #wilbur dsmp

589 notes · View notes

yayakoishii · 7 months

Note

Hello, I’ve loved seeing all of your One Piece content recently! Could I request a Sanji and a fellow straw hat reader who recently got married? I saw something recently about how once Sanji gets married, there would come a moment where someone would call ‘Vinsmoke’ and both would turn their heads and it would just cause Sanji to get emotional because he finally shares a last name with someone who doesn’t see him as worthless. Someone who instead looks at him like he single-handedly placed every star in the sky. If you don’t end up writing this that’s alright, I at least wanted to share this little scenario.

Vinsmoke | Sanji x Reader

Fandom: One Piece

Pairing: Vinsmoke Sanji x Reader

Word Count: 600

Genre: Fluff, minor angst?

A/n: *laughs in still haven't read past Ch. 526* Hey there requester <3 Firstly, I'm happy to hear you enjoy my writing! Thank you so much for this absolutely lovely request. You actually requested it when they were closed but I found it too cute and wanted to write it– even though I haven't reached that part in the manga yet. But, I wrote based on the things I learnt from fanfics (and whatever I got spoiled about, lol) so this might be inaccurate? I would have loved to expand but I need to know the entire backstory properly before I could do that TT Still, I had a fun time writing this cute drabble! Hope you enjoy it ♡

also available on ao3!

Sanji woke up to the most beautiful sight in his entire life– you lying next to him, curled up against his chest from where he could see your hair spilling over the pillow and your relaxed face. This was the sight he was going to wake up every day to, from now on, and the thought of it made him feel like the most blessed man on Earth.

You shifted a little, burrowing closer into him, as if you two were already sticking to each other. He could feel your skin on his own, reminders of the night before but all he could feel at the moment was overwhelming love. He couldn't hold back when he saw your hand with a ring come up to lie above his heart. The choked off sound he let out woke you up, and you looked up at him with sleepy puffy eyes.

"Sanji…?" You mumbled, humming in contentment when he wrapped you up in his arms. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, my love," he said quietly, gathering you into his arms, his own wedding band grazing your back as he did so. You shivered at the sudden cold touch but looked at him with dopey eyes full of so much love that he felt blinded. "Just thinking of how lucky I am."

The two of you eventually rolled out of the hotel bed and got ready to leave for your trip. You were on your honeymoon, a week long trip to a famous vacation island that had a lot of fun activities. Sanji had gotten ready first and gone down to the lobby to discuss something with the staff. You hurried up and joined him there after you had made sure that all the marks he left on you were hidden well under your clothes. You were not embarrassed by them – but you were also a private person who preferred to keep certain things to yourself. The love Sanji made to you was something no one else has to see or know. It was something just for you to experience.

You checked out at the reception since you had the room key and were about to make your way to Sanji when the hotel staff behind you suddenly called out, "Vinsmoke-san?"

"Yes?" You turned around automatically, feeling a little giddy. You had been preparing for this ever since Sanji proposed to you. To be called by his name, to be called his…

You didn't notice Sanji's reaction because of your own thoughts. The blonde had turned to answer the call only to be left dumbfounded when he realised the staff had called for you. You, who were now Vinsmoke (Y/n), had replied back with so much ease, like you had been answering to it your whole life.

And it was like someone had pulled his heart out of his chest and clenched it– it was both painful and pleasing to him that you were a Vinsmoke now. The first one to always be by his side, the first one to protect him even though he was clearly no longer the weak boy he once was. The first one to look at him like he hung the stars in the sky, the first one to love and accept him for who he was– you were now his first, real family. The family he had chosen and started. The family who loved him.

"Sanji?" Your concerned voice jolted him out of his thoughts and he blinked, feeling his eyes wet suddenly. His face was cradled gently in your soft hands as you looked up at him, silently asking him why he was about to cry. "What got you like this?"

Sanji swallowed the heavy lump he could feel in his throat, like his emotions had turned into a ball and were trying to come up his throat. He blinked away the last vestiges of his tears, instead wrapping you up in his arms again.

"You being mine now," he whispered, knocking his forehead gently against yours. His clear blue eyes looked straight into yours as he added, "In heart, mind, name and life."

°•❀•°

#one piece #one piece x reader #one piece fanfic #one piece imagines #one piece drabble #quick drabble #vinsmoke sanji #vinsmoke sanji x reader #sanji x reader #op sanji #sanji #sanji fanfic #one piece sanji #black leg sanji #fic request #fluff #married sanji and reader is such a cute duo omg #i loved writing this #even tho i'm writing based off the spoilers i know lmao

573 notes · View notes

hotteoki · 2 months

Text

change of heart (j.w.y.)

pairing: suitor!wooyoung x princess!reader

genre: arranged marriage, medieval era, strangers to lovers

cw: one swear word

wc: 5k

notes: hi @daesukiii i was your secret admirer! i hope you like this fic i definitely went overboard on 😭 this was heavily inspired by the 'brave' movie!

synopsis: when you're forced into an unwilling, arranged marriage where your husband is decided by a competition with three contests, will an stranger be able to find his way into your life to befriend you and turn your future around?

you sat on your throne, picking at your fingernails while waiting for the clans to arrive. to your right sat your father, and to his right sat your mother, and your brother jongho sat in his throne to your left. he was trying to catch your gaze so he could apologise, except you had no intentions of forgiving him anytime soon. he had told your mother about your complaining towards this whole arranged marriage; since then, your mother had been keeping an exceptionally close eye on you, determined to make you look as “presentable for the suitors” as possible.

upon jongho poking your arm, you snapped your head to him, giving him the worst glare you could muster, which didn’t faze him at all. he gave you a gummy smile at your narrowed eyes, before leaning over to you, speaking quietly, “i am sorry, truly, but i thought it would be really funny… and it is!” he laughed at his own words, leaning back into his seat. you honestly had half a mind to snitch on him to your mother about the real reason why there were muddy footprints everywhere in the throne room yesterday. “i will kill you!” you whisper-shouted at him, sending him a threatening look, resulting in a harsh call of your name from your mother. you turned to her, and found her glaring at you with her index finger raised to her lips shushing you. you spluttered, gesturing to jongho, “he started it!” “it does not matter who started it! the suitors will be here in any minute and you are still not sitting up straight!” she responded sternly, facing the entrance of the room to indicate the end of the conversation. oh, you were so going to snitch on that little bastard.

before you could think of any other plans to get back at jongho, the grand doors to the throne room opened. out of instinct, you straightened your back and placed your crossed hands on your lap. the three clans marched in, each led by their leading lord and his son, who was to be a suitor for your betrothal. as the clans settled in their respective areas, you distinctly heard jongho scoffing at one of the suitors flexing his muscles. your mother began her speech about the three challenges the suitors will have to compete in for your hand in marriage. you blocked out her words, having heard it one too many times while she was practising, your eyes accidentally landing on possibly the most handsome man you’ve ever seen in your life. you prayed to every deity in existence you hadn’t stared at him for too long.

you waited impatiently for the first two lords to introduce themselves as clan park and clan kim respectively, unable to contain a smile forming when it was time for the third and final clan to introduce themselves. “your majesty, i present my heir and only son, wooyoung, who single-handedly took down a fleet of 1,000 men, and retrieved the ships the once-standing clan chun had stolen from clan kim and clan lee.” ‘wooyoung’ stood confidently, hands resting on the hilt of his sword, the tip of the impressive weapon pressed against the stony ground. when the focus was no longer on him, you caught sight of wooyoung shaking his head subtly, holding an aggravated expression on his face. you couldn’t help but tilt your head in confusion over his behaviour, but decided to push it to the back of your head, turning to look at your mother once more.

you took your seat on your throne, now moved outdoors to watch the first challenge: javelin throwing. the suitors took their places behind the line, each standing next to the javelin they chose. park youngjae of clan park was first. he swiftly picked up his javelin, throwing with ease, turning away without looking at where it landed to blow you an arrogant kiss, smirking at the loud cheers from the members of clan park and letting out a holler himself, flexing his muscles smugly again. you stared at him, appalled and disturbed at his actions, giving a pleading look at a laughing jongho, silently begging him to put you out of your misery.

next was kim chanwook of clan kim. he walked a few metres away from the line, before charging forward and letting go of his javelin. you had to contain your snickers over the pathetic landing a mere 20 metres away from the line out of politeness. you hadn’t even thought such a low score was possible. your father sucked in a deep breath through his teeth from beside you, “i would have run off in shame if i were him. poor guy.”

wooyoung was the final contestant. he tossed his javelin lazily, barely putting any effort in, scoring himself a solid 45 metres. you couldn’t help but find it impressive; despite his attempt at a weak throw, the distance of his javelin was a good score. good to know someone’s fed up as well, though, you thought to yourself. your father nudged you with his shoulder, leaning closer to you to whisper, “he definitely could have beat mister show-off here.” he gestured to youngjae. you nodded at his words, earning yourself a scowl from your mother. you were also almost certain you were the only one who noticed wooyoung scoffing at youngjae basking in the compliments from the circle of servants and maids alike who had crowded around him.

though you were glad you could relate to wooyoung about the ridiculousness of this all, you silently wished he would at least try in the competitions, deeply hoping he would be the winner, and allow you to take his hand in marriage.

you laid in bed, tossing and turning, unable to find comfort in your normally cosy bed. your mind constantly travelled to wooyoung, finding irritation in how he hadn’t spared a single glance at you all day, behaving as if the whole purpose of the competition wasn’t for you. perhaps that was a little hypocritical of you to think– hating this forced marriage yet wanting a slimmer of attention from one of the attractive suitors more than anything.

as you threw your thin duvet off, goosebumps travelled down your entire body for a second and caused you to shiver slightly. you swung your legs off the bed, hoping a walk around the castle corridors would soothe your head. retrieving the unused candle from your bedside drawer, you lit it up using the torch and stepped out of your room, eying up and down the empty corridors, only a select few soldiers standing near every entrance, seeming to be dozing off.

your hands trailed along the stone-built walls to support the dim lighting from your candle, attempting to ignore the pounding feeling in your chest over any dangers that could be lurking around the corners. despite jongho’s continuous convincing of how safe your castle was, your gut couldn’t help but send signals of something different about tonight. you paused in your tracks, debating whether to continue or not. breathing out through your nose, you listened to the voice in your head and turned around, deciding to return to your room after all.

you managed to make around fifteen steps before a body walked straight into you. you jumped backwards, instinctively shoving the candle in the person’s face, illuminating wooyoung’s stoic expression. “oh. it’s you,” you stated simply, silently berating yourself for acting so embarrassingly in front of him. he raised an eyebrow, “you are not asleep, princess?” you shrugged, “couldn’t sleep. then again, neither are you.” he looked away for a second, before focusing his gaze back on you, “that’s fair.”

the awkward tension in between you was palpable, neither of you speaking aloud, his eyes remaining on your figure while yours darted anywhere but him. “well, i shall see you tomorrow, then.” he manoeuvred around you, beginning to walk away from you. you couldn’t let this opportunity go now. you had to do something.

he turned back at you, sounding confused as he asked, “yes, princess?” you were just as confused as him for a moment, before letting go of his sleeve. you hadn’t realised you grabbed it in the spur of the moment. you opened and closed your mouth, attempting to form your words. he gave you a small smile, almost to encourage you. swallowing thickly, you ignored your flaming cheeks and answered him, “we have a courtyard. it is my favourite spot to escape a sleepless night.” you mentally pat your back, congratulating yourself for managing to speak to him without stuttering, sending him one last glance before turning back once more to return to your room.

“you have not told me its location.”

fuck.

you turned back around sheepishly, avoiding his expectant eyes while rubbing the back of your neck, “continue down this hallway and go down the corridor at the first turn on your right. the courtyard should be a few metres down.” your face was burning up, and it was definitely reddening. you could only hope wooyoung took it as an illusion from your candle and his.

he nodded with an amused smile, raising his eyebrows, “alright. thank you, princess.” he bowed slightly, leaving you to your own thoughts in the middle of the corridor as the light to his candle fades in the distance.

you sat at the empty dining hall, having woken up earlier than anyone in the castle. it was a habit you found yourself having picked up a week before the suitors arrived. perhaps the peace and tranquillity of being by yourself grounded you subconsciously.

needless to say, you weren’t expecting the grand doors to open slowly. you looked up from your plate, startled, only relaxing until you met the soft gaze of wooyoung.

“apologies. i did not realise anyone would be awake already,” he spoke with such tenderness you never thought was possible. “neither,” you replied, gesturing at the empty seat to your left for him to sit. he obliged, albeit hesitantly, clearly unfamiliar with what to do to get his breakfast.

you nodded once to the servant by your right, “he shall have the same as me, please.” she responds with a great bow, scuttling off to inform the cooks and other servants. your focus returns to wooyoung, who had his head tilted in curiosity. “what is it?” you ask politely, finding his unfaltering gaze unsettling. “nothing. i have just never seen a princess be so… kind to her servants.” you frowned slightly at that. the way you treated your servants earlier was the bare minimum, just how bad were the princesses he’s met before? his meal arrived soon enough, brought to him by a different servant, and the two of you fell into a comfortable silence.

“so what-” you were interrupted by the bursting of the grand doors to the dining hall, accompanied by loud clamouring from the rest of the suitors and their servants. wooyoung stood to move away from you so as to not be branded a cheater by attempting to get closer to you in private times.

“and what do we have here? our beloved princess and a sneaky little fox?” youngjae laughed loudly, but there was no humour behind it. he nudged chanwook by his arm, gesturing for him to chime in as well, though from his expression, it was more of a command from youngjae. “y-yes, it seems so, youngjae.”

he wrinkled his nose in disgust, “do not call me by my name.” he bumps past chanwook to loop an arm around wooyoung’s shoulder, squeezing around his torso, almost as a threat, “so? anything to say for yourself, jung? or will this be a problem i will have to bring up to the majesties-” “i asked for him.”

youngjae faltered at your now standing form, stuttering a little, “w-what? what, uh,” he chuckled nervously before continuing, “what are you talking about, princess?” you stepped around the corner of the table to stand in front of both wooyoung and youngjae, plastering a stern look, initiating the one permanently etched on your mother’s face, “i asked for him. is that a problem, park youngjae?”

he immediately stepped back, putting a distance between both you and wooyoung, bitterness leaving his tongue as he spoke, “no, it is not. you are the princess, after all.”

he left swiftly, yanking on chanwook’s arm to follow, leaving only you and wooyoung along with a few servants remaining in the room. you released the breath you had been holding, having lost your appetite now. “you didn’t have to do that, princess. i would have left on my own volition,” wooyoung murmured, finding it difficult to meet your eyes for the first time since he met you.

“is there a reason why i should not have done what i did?” you replied back with sincerity, beginning to doubt your previous actions. wooyoung was silent for a few seconds, and you thought he was trying to find a way to thank you, until he opened his mouth: “do not ever do that again.”

you blinked, and suddenly you were left alone in the dining hall.

what?

afternoon came and it was time for the second contest. you sat on your throne once again to watch the suitors take their places behind the lines, ready to run. you couldn’t help but frown at wooyoung’s lack of interest at you, a strong wave of deja vu washing over you .his eyes only trained at the finishing line in front; you thought you had been getting closer with each other, but at the same time, you weren’t so sure you wanted to speak to him at the moment either way.

the pistol rings and the suitors sprint off. your father hollers in excitement, cheering the suitors on, egging jongho to do the same as well. your breath hitched as the suitors got closer and closer to the line, approximately 30 metres away.

25 metres.

youngjae was in the lead.

20 metres.

wooyoung overtook him.

15 metres.

youngjae quickly regained his spot.

10 metres.

wooyoung ran with a sudden burst of energy.

5 metres…

4…

3…

2…

1…

youngjae won.

you exhaled sharply. wooyoung turned to your direction, meeting your strained face. he turned away immediately.

your mother jerked her head once towards youngjae. you swallowed with difficulty, getting up from your throne and making your way over to him, passing by wooyoung in the process. you didn’t bother sparing him a single glance.

“congratulations, young lord park,” you spoke stiffly, tempted to tug your hand away from him as he held it up to his lips, pressing a kiss to the back of it. “why, thank you, princess. do i get a prize now?” he barked out a greasy laugh, wiggling his eyebrows at you suggestively. “no,” you responded simply, retracting your hand from his grasp.

youngjae’s expression turned cold, his snarky attitude morphing into a disdainful one, “i see.” his eyes landed on wooyoung’s behind you, a smirk growing on his face. he looked back at you, “no worries, princess.”

you could practically see the gears running inside his head.

you found yourself sitting alone on the ground of your courtyard, a book perched on your lap. no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t focus on its contents. your mind was befuddled from the idea of having to marry youngjae, given the chances of that happening was growing with the way he had won both contests, and was likely to win the third one. you shuffled further backwards, allowing the shadows of the large tree engulf you whole, hiding you away from even the stars’ sights.

you closed the book, shutting your eyes briefly, focusing on the sound of crickets chirping quietly and the gentle swishing of the leaves, until the calmness was broken by two chittering servants walking past. you moved your ear to the general direction, hoping to eavesdrop in their conversation for some form of entertainment.

“did you hear lord jung’s talk with his son earlier? what was his name again?” “wooyoung,” the other servant finished for her friend, “i did hear. miyeon told me everything. he said he didn’t want to marry the princess, right? that’s why he’s losing on purpose.” you faltered at that, did you truly read into his behaviour too much? “i know. so unexpected! the princess is one of the sweetest people i’ve ever met, why would he not want to marry her?” you smiled at the servant’s words, finding it refreshing to have a good reputation amongst the residents of the castle.

“i suppose he thinks he’s too young to marry, and i agree with him. i mean, we’re both the same age as the princess, and i’d be mortified at the thought of having to marry so soon!” the two girls murmured in agreement, before the first servant continued, “i do feel horrible for the princess, though. she’s most likely to end up with the young lord park, and the heavens know what he’s doing to her.” your ears perked up, eyebrows furrowing over what she said. “what do you mean?” the second servant voiced your question out, seeming just as unaware as you.

“have you not heard the rumours? he’s been telling everyone about how the princess approached him and has been in an attitude because he rejected her.” you sat up completely straight at that, fighting the urge to cry out in bewilderment. “how do you know it’s just a rumour?” “my brother was there at the dining hall that day. he himself served young lord jung his breakfast. young lord park was the one who was turned down by the princess.” the second servant scoffed quietly, “how pathetic of him!”

“shush!” the first girl hissed, speaking much quieter now, “do not forget, we are still below the suitors, no matter how horrid they are. should they hear what we’re saying, they’ll come for our heads!” their retreating footsteps fade after a few seconds and you could only assume they had a silent exchange in glances to continue their gossip later, away from prying ears. you leaned back against the bark of the tree again. you had to tell jongho.

you never got the opportunity to. your mother spent the entirety of the next morning dressing you up in extravagant wear, chiding you for not presenting yourself as desirable for the suitors earlier. you were reminded constantly by her that you would have to prepare to be a suitable wife for your husband soon, no matter who he will be.

you didn’t see wooyoung either. he wasn’t present at breakfast nor did you see him during the time before the third and final contest; contrasting to youngjae, who seemed to be everywhere, flirting with the maids and proudly bragging about his archery skills, which was the sport of the day. chanwook stuck close to his father throughout the morning, whinging to him and looking like he was on the verge of tears.

you felt your mother pat your cheek with her palm, driving you out of your thoughts. her lips were pursed into a tense line as she caressed your cheekbone back and forth, beginning to speak in a hushed tone, “i know you do not want any of this, my daughter, but you must also realise it is necessary. breaking this betrothal could harm our kingdom deeply, you know this.” you exhaled deeply, shutting your eyes in defeat, “i do.” she nodded once in satisfaction, stepping back and moving to leave your room, “i shall see you at the field in a while, then.”

moving to your window, your eyes scanned the large field below. it was filled with men from the three clans, servants and maids from your own castle, the three lords bickering with each other by the front, and their sons, the suitors, standing behind a white line, facing a target stood up at a long distance from him. you noticed wooyoung was on the field, fixing the bow in his hand. judging from his nervous stance, you suspected he was not experienced in archery. almost as if he could hear your thoughts, his head tilted up to the direction of your tower, until he met your shocked eyes through the glass window of your room. you immediately recoiled backwards until your back touched the wall opposite the window, a few metres away from where you were just now. you swallowed thickly out of nervousness before making your way down to the field.

the conversation between the two servants from last night still ran wild in your head. if what they said was true, if wooyoung was truly losing on purpose, then this contest is pointless, for chanwook stood no chance against youngjae. you feel the frustration inside your body bubbling up, though you suspect it was mixed with the bottled up dread and anger towards marrying a complete stranger, his obnoxious behaviour only adding to it. “hey,” jongho’s concerned voice rang in your left ear. you turned to look at his worried eyes, his hand reaching for your shoulder, “are you okay?” you batted his hand away with a reassuring smile, “i’m fine.” he was about to say more, but was interrupted by the loud bellow of the starting horn to indicate the beginning of the contest. knowing his personality, he would bug you about what was bothering you until you gave it up, though.

youngjae pulled his string backwards, flexing his muscles intentionally to swoon the multiple servants standing behind him. deja vu kicked in for the second time when you saw wooyoung roll his eyes once again, and your frown morphed into a barely concealed smile subconsciously. before you realise it, youngjae had already released his arrow, landing on the red circle of the target, only a few centimetres away from the yellow centre. you were impressed by how he played off his embarrassment, however. he commented coolly about the scorching sun being in his eyes and locking eyes with wooyoung menacingly, almost daring him to do any better than him.

you didn’t bother paying any attention to chanwook, only concentrating on wooyoung’s microexpressions. your attempts proved futile when he carried a blank face throughout chanwook’s failing try, the wailing boy scoring himself null points when his arrow landed nowhere near his target. you wished you could say you ignored wooyoung the same way you did to chanwook, but you couldn’t. you were transfixed on his smooth movements and the way he seemed to tug on the string of his bow with ease, youngjae’s sniggers having no effect on him whatsoever.

you’ve already planned out how your new life with youngjae would be. you would have to worship the grounds he walks on, praise his every miniscule movement even if it was something as simple as breathing, stand by his side permanently to make him look good-

your nightmarish thoughts were cut short by your father’s whoops, along with jongho jumping up as well, their excitement so contagious even your mother was unable to help but stand and clap. you instinctively followed her movements, moving up to your feet but raising an eyebrow in confusion, what were they cheering for? that was when you saw it.

wooyoung’s arrow.

shot dead centre of the target.

you stared in astonishment, realising your previous assumptions about wooyoung being inexperienced had been entirely wrong. when you flickered your eyes to him, he was already watching you, and you would’ve said he was watching you emotionlessly had his sparkling eyes not given him away. you knew then, he was just as exhilarated as you were.

“it does not matter, though, does it?” youngjae’s voice boomed over all the music and cheering. the field turned quiet once more as everyone listened intently to his echoing words. “i won the first two contests. i win overall, no?” there were a series of agreeing murmurs, wooyoung’s bright eyes flashing with worry over them. “no.” for a moment, you wondered where the voice came from, until you realised from all the peering eyes that you were the one who spoke out.

you breathed in deeply, stepping down from the small platform and out into the sun, walking slowly and steadily towards the suitors. your mind was screaming for you to turn back around, to accept your fate with youngjae, to listen to your mother and simply be the perfect wife; but your heart overrode every indecisive word in your brain. “it wouldn’t be fair on woo- on young lord jung to discredit this spectacular win,” you gestured to wooyoung’s arrow, mentally cringing over how over-dramatised your words are, yet they seemed to be convincing enough for the people, as another wave of murmurs came about.

“princess-” “we shall have one final contest to determine the final winner,” you cut youngjae off short, finding delight in the way he begrudgingly shut his mouth. you allowed a few tense moments to pass before revealing, “a dance.” “a dance?!” he spluttered incredulously, spinning around to watch others’ reactions. “i don’t see a problem with it,” wooyoung retorted, speaking from behind him. “of course you don’t,” youngjae sneered at him. there was a deadly silence until your father clapped awkwardly, “well! if the princess decides on a dance, then a dance it shall be to decide the final suitor! whichever suitor– young lord park or young lord jung, wins the heart of our daughter shall be her future husband!”

you sat on the stool by your vanity, putting on your accessories and checking yourself in the mirror, doing anything to calm down the nerves in your system and your pounding heart. you heard a knock from outside your bedroom door and you called them in.

jongho, all dressed up in his princely attire, peeked around your door, coming inside and shutting the door behind him. he makes himself comfortable on the edge of your bed before opening his mouth, “choose jung.” you looked at him through your mirror wordlessly, before standing up to smooth out your grand ball gown. you dared yourself to ask, “why?”

jongho rolled his eyes, giving you an exasperated face, “i know you. you are my sister, after all. you like him.” he stood to help with your necklace when he saw you struggling, “besides, i hear things too, you know.” he didn’t need to say it aloud for you to know he was indicating the rumours youngjae started.

he stepped back, allowing you to turn around and look at him gratefully. “thank you, you can be really helpful sometimes when you’re not absolutely annoying.” he let out a loud laugh at your words, shrugging slightly. he held out his elbow for you to take, which you did, and he guided the both of you to the ballroom.

you loitered around the busy ballroom, eyes moving from one excited person to another. you were glad everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do the same when you couldn’t even find wooyoung. you already had a dance with youngjae earlier, and it was uncomfortable, to say the least. he spent the entire dance bragging to you about his achievements and gripping your waist tightly to bring your attention back to him whenever your eyes strayed.

you were worrying endlessly over your fate. if, by the end of the night, wooyoung hadn’t come to find you and ask for a dance, youngjae would be the automatic winner by default. he would indeed be the final suitor and become your husband.

“may i have this dance?” someone tapped your shoulder gently. you spun around to meet wooyoung’s awaiting eyes, and words couldn’t describe the relief you felt seeing his now familiar smile. “you may,” you placed your hand on his outstretched one, following his steps to the centre of the ballroom.

you allowed a few uncomfortable moments to pass before blurting out, “why are you doing this?” the question you had been pondering for the past few hours would finally be answered now. wooyoung unintentionally clenched his hand resting on your waist at your words, before he relaxed once more, his fingers tracing circles around the area he just squeezed on accident. “should i not be?”

you pursed your lips at how vague his answer was. he noticed your reaction and modified it, “i meant, as a suitor, is that not what i am expected to do?” you contemplated whether to tell him what you heard from the servants or not, before deciding on a half-truth, “i suppose it was odd, considering what you said that morning and the unwillingness you had been carrying for the past week. it left the impression you were not looking to marry me…

wooyoung chuckled at your hesitance, choosing to answer you truthfully this time, “ah, i see. no, princess, i merely would not allow youngjae to stir up rumours about me cheating my way into winning, which caused my harsh reaction. i do apologise for that,” he flashed you a comforting smile, “and you should know, princess, i actually do enjoy sports quite a lot. ironically, i am the best at javelin throwing and archery. well, not so much in running.” you laughed softly at his last comment.

“i will admit, ashamedly, i had been pretending not to be the athlete my father promotes frequently– not at all to do with you, princess, of course. i simply was not sure i was ready to marry yet,” wooyoung paused for a couple of seconds, sucking in a deep breath through his teeth and continuing, “after the second contest, however, i’ve had a change of heart, you see. what young lord park said…” he shook his head in disappointment, “how could i let such a vile man marry the sweetest soul i’d ever met?” you found yourself shying into your figure at his comment, head lowering to look at his shoes until he squeezed your waist gently, causing you to look up at his endearing face again.

“but i suppose it all boils down to your decision now, does it not?” he tilted his head playfully, his eyes twinkling with mischief. neither of you had to voice out the fact that wooyoung had already won from the start.

networks: @kflixnet k-labels kbookshelf neverendingdreams-net straykidsland @k-films @pirateeznet

335 notes · View notes

meatyarms · 10 months

Note

When you told her you didn't need any help riding her strap but then she sees your legs begin to falter

Smug little shit. I love her so much 😫

Evening and oh yeah. Me is using this intuitive ask to redeem my writing drive, was in the middle of outlining a story-like thing bout this but I think I forgot how to do that if not in the free jotting style :/ but here goes the first idea I thought of~

˗ˏˋᴊᴏᴛᴛɪɴɢ´ˎ˗

ּ It was a blatant 'no' from the moment you sat in your little ominous way on the couch next to her as she took her boots off, the whole idea of being ridden, having no control over the stimulation was always something for the other party to experience. Not Sev. But for fear of you being serious about not letting her touch you ever again, she shrugged in begrudged approval.

ּ And now there's nothing you regret more than spending all dusk making a promise you're dying to keep, mourning the loss of the confidence that flushed out of you since the toy's tip popped in reminding you of just how severe the fuzziness her cock induces is.

ּ Sevika felt more at ease with this role swap at about the ten minute mark, your head gave in to gravity too soon lolling like crazy, ankles tossed slackly around quivering nonstop. You look a mess from any point in the room, overexerting to keep your word— literally fighting yourself on top of her.

ּ And Sevika with a ringside seat groovily watching you take your fourth break, every time your hands slammed on her defined abdomen in bleak defeat brought her to a cheerful smug. Even while dozy, you wouldn’t come to grips with how hopeless this whole thing was, you were doing nothing but solidifying the way this ends— with her holding sway over how the bed rocks. And Sevika thinks that’s adorable.

ּ This rascal could single-handedly end your suffering and turn this whole thing around, but she wouldn’t have it yet, to hell with climax if it meant that you’d cry out your feeble apology of surrender in her chest all sorry and cute. Or pass out from holding your breath doing a good job for a while until it rips out of your chest a fifth time, six if your moronic stubbornness is that much more keen.

ּ The strap is fully in and hasn’t stopped vibrating since you took it to the harness, it swore to drive you down when you sat upright so consistently that you’ve grown suspicious of foul play going on from her side. Sev just cannot wait to observe your last tumbling down, forcing her eyes pried open and hands squeezed on your paralyzed shins only lightly, ready to catch when you flake out.

ּ “Ughffuuck… can’t..”,,

ּ Except that white flag was raised sooner than she thought. You relieve the numbing weight on your legs and lay down on Sevika’s body, her chuckles reduce to a traveling buzz shaking your cheek through fervid skin. She sits up, hand on your back while you’re clawing on her like a hapless kitten.

ּ “Knew you needed help, brazen girl.",,

#she doesn't want you to pass out cuz she's unfeeling btw #it's just sadism and the 'I told you so' in her #don't know why they're always mean from me #❥ thehollowartist #ask #sevika #arcane sevika #sevika arcane #sevika imagine #sevika x you #sevika x reader #sevika smut #meatywrites

674 notes · View notes

tripleyeeet · 7 months

Text

A FOOLISH LOVER'S OFFERING (10)

SUMMARY: On the way to Moonrise you and Astarion talk about some important things.

PAIRING: Astarion & Female Reader

WORD COUNT: 3,060

WARNINGS: Spoilers for Act 2 (henceforth there will be spoilers in all chapters here on out), ANGST, mentions of murder.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hi this chapter single handedly took every brain cell I had to write so hopefully you like it because I just want to set it on fire for all the grief it has caused me!!

CHAPTER LIST / MASTERLIST / NEXT CHAPTER

“Gods, I hate this place.”

Gripping your torch, you try your best to focus on the Harper’s. How they move through the shadows, navigating every twist and turn without issue, leading you through the pathways.

It hasn’t been long since you’ve started your journey. No longer can you see the shining veil of the Inn but, given what you know, you’re well aware that your destination isn’t nearly ahead either. There’s still plenty of walking to do. A few hour's journey at the least. Perhaps more if Astarion insists on continuing to walk so slowly.

At your side, his eyes scan the trees with a heavy breath, taking in the decrepit scenery at such a leisurely pace that it makes you huff and glance around, noting the distance between you and the others. At this point, you’re close enough that you can still see them but too far to hear what any of them are saying —something you’re certain Astarion’s done on purpose when he plants his arm around your shoulder.

“You know, I happen to find it quite charming. All the dread and despair. It’s a bit like being at home.”

You give him a look, raising your brow only to receive a snort in response, confirming that he’s (thankfully) kidding. “Ha, you think you’re so funny, don’t you?”

“Funny?” He moves his other hand to his chest, placing it against his leathers. “Darling, I’m hilarious.”

“Yes, yes, a real jester.”

His fingers flex around your shoulder, squeezing. “I’ll have you know I’ve always been funny. Even before all this vampiric bullshit.”

“Yeah?”

He nods, a slight thought flashing across his face that makes you wonder what he’s thinking about. Given the circumstances, you assume it’s a thought of the past. Perhaps of his life before Cazador’s reign. When he was merely an elf roaming topside around Baldur’s Gate without a care in the world. You imagine he was funny back then. Mischievous. Probably a little too out there, even for a magistrate considering the personality you’ve grown to love. Based on pure assumption, he probably had more fun in one night than you in a lifetime, spending his hard-earning coin on good food and drinks and—

“It’s rude to stare, you know.” He pulls you tighter into him, using his free hand to pluck the torch out of your hand so that you can wrap yourself around him. As you do, both of you breathe a sigh of what feels like relief, even though you’re currently experiencing anything but.

“Sorry.”

“Well, you were staring at me, so I suppose I can forgive.”

“Many thanks, my liege.”

He growls suggestively under his breath, making you scoff. “My liege, hm, I could get behind that.”

“Of course you could.”

“My liege,” he repeats, tasting it on his tongue, eyeing you with a lusty gaze that doesn’t quite make its mark.

Which only furthers the assumption that he’s deep inside his head still. Sifting through thoughts you’re completely unaware of as you walk in tandem to your potential untimely end. Almost immediately, it makes you wonder if maybe this is the right time to start asking questions. To finally speak up about the inquiries that have filed through your skull. Because after this, there’s no telling where you may find yourselves. You could be killed or locked away —lost to an abyss of some kind.

The options are endless; however, time is not, so instead of stewing in the silence you currently find yourselves in, you look up at him, taking in the shape of his face.

You’ve known him long enough now to know that the comments he often makes about his beauty are true. In appearance, he’s almost otherworldly. A beacon of well-aged flesh your eyes feel constantly drawn to. Whenever he’s around there’s this feeling of awe that comes forth. A subtle beating in your chest that quickens each time he’s present. When you look at him —really look at him— your eyes tend to open a little wider, surprised by how every feature seems to fit so perfectly in place. How everything feels uncharacteristically cohesive given his time spent abused beneath the moon, forced to stave and serve for all eternity.

If it weren’t for the issue of Cazador you’d be convinced he was blessed by the Gods themselves. Melded by their very hands to create a being of such high temptation and desire. You imagine them brainstorming his existence. Tirelessly spending weeks on end crafting the perfect specimen that would ultimately end up broken.

You realize then, taking in the lines that have developed throughout countless bouts of false grinning, that the very thing he loves most about himself was more than likely the result of his own downfall.

A downfall you find you’re still curious about. Even after your conversation, Astarion’s life before all this still holds an air of mystery. Between details already revealed, there are still patches of missing information. Sections of time where assumptions feel wrong but asking feels just as bad. And because of that, deep down, you know you should leave the curiosity alone. Pack it into the back of your mind for later use, but with the oncoming war and no determined outcome, you instead loosen your hold and take a side step.

“Can I ask you something?”

He narrows his eyes, readjusting his position now that you’re not locked against him, suddenly looking awkward as he puffs out his chest. “Depends.”

“On?”

“Whether or not the question is going to be depressing,” he replies. “Because you have that look in your eye.”

“What look?”

He reaches out to poke your forehead, pressing it roughly. “The one where your brows look like they’re going to become one at a moment’s notice.”

Swatting his hand away, you twitch your brows back into their proper positioning, annoyed. “I was going to ask about Cazador,” you tell him, truthfully. “I know he’s probably not a topic you want to discuss as we waltz to our potential doom but —I don’t know— I just have questions.”

He sighs deeply, drawing out his breath before giving you an unimpressed look that speaks volumes.

He doesn’t want to talk about it. Nor do you, but at the same time, you’re at the point where you’re unable to deny your interest because Astarion’s your friend. A companion you cherish more than you know you should. A person whose well-being is so important you’d virtually do anything to maintain it. Which is why you’re determined to pry a bit more than usual. Taking these final moments you have to yourself to ask the one question you’ve been wondering for ages.

“What will you do about him? When this is all over.”

Surprisingly, there’s no hesitation in his words when he tells you he’ll kill him. As you continue along the path, listening to him come up with all the vile ways he’d do it, you find yourself strangely calm. Numb almost to the descriptions of stakes being driven into hearts or knives slicing through jugular veins. Lost in the way he throws your torch around with every passing phrase.

“Personally, I think a stake to the heart’s a bit cheap,” you eventually comment, watching him laugh. Hearing the way the sound quickly flutters out and hits your ears, making you smile despite the subject matter.

“It’s a classic for a reason, my dear.”

“Is it though? I mean, in my experience there’s far better ways to kill someone.”

“Is there, now? Do tell.”

You’re not sure if it’s just because you’ve grown used to the excessive violence throughout your journey or because Astarion’s tendencies have potentially rubbed off on you. Either way, as the two of you joke of his master’s demise you find yourself wondering if maybe such a result is even plausible. Sure, you’ve never killed a vampire. Hell, before Astarion you’re not even sure you’ve seen one up close, but for him, you’d be willing to try. Especially given the ever-growing lack of regard for your own safety.

“Honestly, the only thing that’s coming to mind is cutting him open and doing something to his innards.”

His brows shoot up in surprise, making you laugh. “Mm, a cold-blooded killer after my own heart.”

You roll your eyes, prompting his hand to subtly grip your own. Tangling your fingers together, he raises your palm carefully up to his lips and places a lingering kiss. One that tickles your flesh long after he’s gone, leaving you grinning like a fool, wondering if this is what love feels like.

You imagine it is. Deep beneath the surface, your chest is tight but not with fear. Instead, there’s only warmth that spreads —a growing sensation of heat that wraps around your lungs and heart. Filling you with this discomforting ache that only he can alleviate. So much so that it makes you want to scream sometimes, knowing he’s the cause. That somehow through his charms and tricks he’s managed to find a home inside your chest without permission. How he’s sliced you open with that wicked grin and crawled inside, calling you darling all the while.

It makes you wonder if he feels the same. If all the afflictions he’s given you are returned in some capacity. If when you look at him his mouth goes dry or his heart skips a beat. Or the longing to be near is indeed reciprocated and not just another plot to keep you close.

Because sometimes it’s hard to tell.

Throughout your journey, you’ve gone back and forth a hundred times, debating the possibilities —weighing the pros and cons of every interaction that you’ve ever had. Even now, knowing such trivial thoughts should be the last thing on your mind, you can’t help but wonder: does he care for you? Truly? Does he think of you? Does he look for you? Within his everyday thoughts does your presence linger in the background, waiting for the right moment to be put on full display for him to admire?

Does he love you?

“You know, if you ever need help with the whole murdering Cazador thing…”

It sounds ridiculous when you say it. So nonchalant and unfazed. Even you have to cringe at the way you trail off, waiting for him to speak. Praying that he’ll laugh or scoff or say literally anything to fill the silence you find yourselves walking through.

It takes him a while but eventually, you hear him quietly sigh, his gaze moving to view your nervous face. “It won’t be easy, you know. Cazador isn’t some vagabond with a blade, he’s—“

“I know.”

“No, you don’t.”

He says it like a warning. As if he’s preparing to scold you for speaking out of term, narrowing his eyes with a huff. “Darling, I appreciate the enthusiasm but Cazador —he’s different. He’s not like the villains we’ve faced thus far. He isn’t motivated by greed or lust. The only thing he wants is power. Power over me —over you.”

He pauses then, swallowing hard. Making it apparent then that this hypothetical conversation of murderous jokes has turned into something far more real. That your offering is no longer a mere gesture of kindness but instead a potential act of solidarity. One that you extend further by running your thumb along his, applying a bit of pressure at the joint, feeling him twitch.

“You know there’s very little I wouldn’t do for you, right?”

In an instant his eyes are on you, staring in surprise, trying to process the words that’ve just spilled through your lips. At first, they’re focused on their position, fully immersed in the way you clear your throat, trying to suppress a nervous laugh as you continue to grip his hand. Not long after though, they start to go distant, moving past your face to view the trees behind you, fizzling out of reality so quick that all you can do is try to pull him back.

“I know you probably think I’m in idiot for even suggesting that fact that I may be capable of killing someone who spent centuries in control of so many people—“

“A bit, yes.”

You snort, watching him slowly start to return to you, his lips curling into a half smile you can’t help but reach out and touch, stopping your stride. “But I would do anything you asked of me. Even if it meant death, I would kill that bastard for you without hesitation. Whatever way you wanted, whether it’s decapitation or throwing him off a bloody cliff or—“

The light of the torch shifts as his hand slips out of yours, taking hold of your head to guide you to his lips. To press his mouth to yours with such need that the breath within your lungs is ripped out. Swallowed behind his starving tongue —lapping whatever life you have to offer as his hand drifts over your cheek, taking hold of your flesh to keep you from leaving.

Standing still, you can feel the tenseness of his frame as it all happens. How aside from his mouth and hand the rest of him refuses to move, prompting you to reach out, running your hands along his sides, coaxing him to relax.

When his body does, you slowly pull away, sucking in air like your life depends on it, watching with half-lidded eyes and swollen lips as he opens his mouth to speak, stuttering out something incoherent before swearing under his breath.

Narrowing your eyes further, you watch him struggle to speak, wondering what could be going on in that complicated brain of his as he turns his body, releasing you from his grasp in favour of moving forward again.

Immediately, it makes you drop your jaw in annoyance, watching his hands move towards his hair, gripping his locks in frustration as you hear him mutter to himself and continue to move, leaving you behind.

“Hold on, you’re just going to kiss me like that and walk away?”

He doesn’t even turn to acknowledge you as you yell, making you even angrier as you race toward him, placing a rough hand against his shoulder to gain his attention.

“Astarion—“

“Do you mean it?”

Your mouth twitches when he turns, looking at you with angry eyes. Scanning you with knitted brows filled with so much frustration all you can do is breathe and nod.

“Why?”

Because I love you.

“Because…”

“Tell me.”

Your mouth is drier than it’s ever been, making it hard for you to form the words as you feel your tongue poke out to wet your lips. “I—“

His shoulder shifts from your grasp in one quick motion, leaving you bare —untethered and weak against the aggression of his eyes staring you down. “You know, I’ve spent centuries coming up with all the ways I’d do it. How I’d kill him if given the chance.”

You watch his gaze move to the trees again, travelling elsewhere even though you’re here, standing still in front of him, already wondering how you'll get him back.

“Despite the scenarios being nothing but my foolish imagination running rampant, every time I end up suffering. Forced further into madness —pushed to the brink of what my body is capable of handling.” He shakes his head before raising it, blinking back tears that make your body ache. “Even in my wildest dreams I cannot win against his torment and yet… the moment you mention it… the moment you look at me with those eyes—”

Hearing him choke back a nervous laugh, this time it’s you who’s on him, clutching his face with both hands, pressing your thumbs to the inner corners of his eyes to wipe away the liquid that continues to pool.

“Why are you so willing to help me do the unimaginable?”

This time there’s no hesitation. No moment of thought that graces your mind as you smile up at him, pulling him further down with shaking hands to press your forehead to his. “It’s because I love you,” you tell him then. Barely above a whisper, you let it filter out like smoke, allowing it to envelop him entirely as you breathe and take him in, watching the way his lips unfurl and the anger laced within his features slips away. “And because the thought of allowing him to live after what he did to you fills me with a kind of rage I’m not sure I’ve ever felt before.”

His hand moves to stroke the side of your neck. Gently, his fingers run across the bite marks he's inflicted, marking their positions with two subtle taps before they glide away, rooting themselves at the back of your head for support. Forcing you to remain in the moment, realizing what you’ve just said.

It’s hardly the right time to admit your feelings. But then again, given the circumstances, you quickly remember that there really isn’t one. Considering you're in the middle of a war, on your way to Ketheric’s base, it’s very unlikely you’ll have a spare moment to clear your mind and properly say all the things you’ve been itching to say.

Until the end, it’ll always feel like something’s missing —like you’ve forgotten an important phrase or detail. That whatever you say will never be enough to fully convey the weight of how he makes you feel each time he looks you up and down or makes you laugh.

Even as you stand before him now, holding him tight —watching the tears within his eyes threaten to spill once again, you know nothing you say will ever amount to the ache inside your chest, knowing that you’ve managed to give him the last sliver of hope you have to offer.

“I love you, Astarion,” you repeat then, praying this time it holds its weight. That the nervous rush inside your stomach passes through and all you’re left with is the kind of warmth you’ve only read about in stories.

His jaw is slack as you repeat your confession, shifting in a way that makes you more nervous than it should, watching him blink and hearing him breathe —doing everything but speak the words you want to hear as Shadowheart calls your name, pulling you both away to notice the annoyed look on her face as she tells you to hurry up.

TAGLIST:

@poohxlove @gaiasmight @sassy-stupid @novarex @v-gremlin @sapphiccloud @lipstickghoulie @kuroitsukyo@jjfchk@idiotsatan@bluestuesday@bloopthebat@art-by-greenie@heneralmoon@sukunababe@dreamingaboutyousworld@ranfithegood@haniscrying@liadamerondjarin@the-lake-is-calling@marina-and-the-memes@rookieoftheyear@zraloci-cpr@kaetmo@snickerdoodle-daydream@wowowwild@d1anna@raswiet@conniesbbymama@venus-wrts@demonicthorns@kihten@deadglamsheep@sanscas@spammypasta@leighsartworks216@rose-gold-blue@p1ssmagg0t@hellish-writes@ghostinvenus@otayz@sexysquatch@sleepyeclair@colorful-anxieties@alina-exe@ilana-the-lasagna@lillifer@girlwiththepapatattoo@y2cade@acelin-ginsberg@pinkuranium@catrad0rable@scarletrosesposts@qwnamidala@itsrosebabe@bunnyperi@queenofcarrotflowers-s@tatumadams20@spkyxszn@chlort@f3v3rs@awkwardwookie@joy-the-reader@warm-milk-with-honey-blog@vertigocrime@iyis@wildpiper@pebblethestone@tillywasneverhere@bex-03@kaetmo@revemiya@staticspouse@itzagothamcitysiren@djarinsmixtape@when-the-night-came@epicy0n@bababahannah@sleepyred1703@lotus-99@lofcompass@r4d10h34d5@vampninjaz@itsmekalou@offbrandhand@yikes-buddy@konenichi@rainonarden@oceanbluesixeyes@bodtyworship@maydayitsjay@greasyslimebucket@yeeteth-the-raven@fantasyfairysworld@allexthakatt@flowersaretheshit@morglyne@thespectacularspaceace@cephiss0@use-your-telescope@furblrwurblr@kloverfield@angelofthorr@writervaul-t@starved-kitten@minixluvr@crowley--aziraphale@sapphicwren@alionera-blog@jennithejester@dezedrol@thisisew@saladalpaca@applepiewithbacon@httpbiohazard@aurasyn@nerdoodles@kingpinthedevil@itzkawaiix@domainoflostsouls@silverskylan@uminootome@helpidkwhatimdoingwrong@deadlyinfernos@blackbirdswhispers@sarahskywalker-amadala@writingmysanity@f3v3rs@jayjones03@quietlyebbie@optimisticprime3@eyes-for-daze@sunnytalia3@megoshh@maddiedott

(If you'd like to be added to the taglist, fill out this form. Also, if your name isn't on here and it should be I couldn't tag you so message me and I'll try again next time!)

#a foolish lover's offering #astarion #astarion bg3 #astarion fan fic #astarion series #astarion x female reader #astarion x reader #astarion x you #summer writes

428 notes · View notes