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𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐅𝐮𝐧 𝐂𝐚𝐧 𝐈𝐭 𝐁𝐞 | (𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐓𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐦)

➳❥ 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬: Ishida Ryuken, Urahara Kisuke, Kyoraku Shunsui, Jugram Haschwalth, Kuchiki Byakuya

➳❥ 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: female reader (AFAB), fingering, spanking, oral sex (male receiving), rough sex, dirty talking, manhandling, edging (squint), brat taming, top!reader and sub!reader (cuz you know, reader teasing before control is taken away)

➳❥ 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐱𝐭: You learn that it’s not nice to tease your lover.

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐍𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

➳❥ Ishida Ryuken

The soft hum of the air conditioner thrumming in the background while Ryuken scribbled away at his reports was all that filled his office. His office was as spotless as his reputation. You, on the other hand, were much more content with eradicating the annoying sound and filling the room with something more…indulgent.

Positioning yourself just out of his line of sight, you casually leaned against the desk, admiring the way his nimble fingers gripped his pen, or how he would adjust his glasses ever so often, followed by a lick of his lips. Your blouse, deliberately unbuttoned a little too low and revealing at the top, displayed an ample amount of your cleavage which peaked even more with your movements. As for your skirt, well, it wasn’t any better than the blouse—short enough to flirt with propriety, and tight enough to cling to your curves like a second skin.

“You’re working so hard Ryuken,” you teased lightly as you shifted your weight to ensure your skirt strained against your hips and thighs while your fingers idly traced along the polished edge of this desk. “Don’t you ever take a break?”

His pen paused mid-stroke, though he didn’t immediately lift his gaze. Slowly, his deep blue eyes flicked briefly over you before returning to his paper, the muscle in his jaw tightening from the mere glance at you. “Please don’t test my patience,” he muttered, stiffly, too stiff to be stern. In his brief glance, you took in the way his eyes fell upon the swell of your breasts and felt heated.

Leaning closer, your arm snaked around his shoulders, the position allowed for your breasts to almost brush against his arm as you pushed your chest forward. “I’m just trying to help,” you purred and tilted your head to meet his eyes. “Don’t you agree with a little distraction being good for productivity?”

Ryuken’s hand stilled completely as his breathing increased under your touch. Leaning in further, you placed your hand over his, your fingers idly tracing the veins as you licked your lips and leaned into his face. “Don’t overwork yourself to death Ryuken, I’m here to help, remember?” you whispered inches from his lips, ghosting the corner with a phantom touch.

His gaze finally locked onto yours, sending a shiver down your spine. Before you knew it, he stood abruptly, kicking the chair away and reaching out to grab you by your arm. In an instant, you were pressed against his desk—sandwiched—feeling his erection against your ass. “You think this is a game?” he whispered coldly, though his actions betrayed as his hands gripped your hips firmly, grounding them into his crotch. “You’ve been pushing me all day, not having a single idea of what you’re asking for.”

Before you reply with a smart-ass remark, you felt his hands snake under your skirt and pushed your panty aside to ran two fingers through your folds. Your words were swallowed at the back of your throat, and in place was a loud relieving moan. The way his fingers toyed with your clit, rubbing and pinching the delicate nub has you vibrating in his hold, unfortunately, he wasn’t allowing you to control the pace. His other hand gripping your hip halted your movements as he dragged his fingers down to your slit and pushed them in, wasting no time finding your sweet spot.

The whimpers that left your throat matched the sloppy sounds of his fingers dragging through your pussy. Loud, wet and obscene.

“Look at you. Wanting my attention so badly,” he darkly laughed as his hands moved from your hip to grip the back of your neck and pull you upwards to meet his chest. His lips grazed the shell of your ear as he kissed your lobe, running them lower to meet the junction of your neck. The combination of his lips and fingers—those sinfully, articulate fingers that massaged every spot perfectly—on your skin left you a gasping mess.

You weren’t sure whether to keep your eyes open, roll them, or have them shut. His digits were sliding deliciously in and out your pussy causing you to clench around them, sucking them back in. “Look at you, so eager,” he groaned into your neck, enjoying the warmth and tightness. “You want more don’t you?”

You nodded because speaking wasn’t a function available to you any longer. Yet at the same time, Ryuken, crooked his fingers against your sweet spot, purposefully rubbing the tips on the area, leaving you gasping for breath. Your fingers were gripping the edge of his desk tightly while you instinctively rocked your hips for more. The pressure was building, and you could feel and hear it coming—the increase in your juices flowing was evident. His hand was coated in your arousal as it flowed from your pussy like you had a leaking tap.

“Ryu…ken, pl–…ease, fuck, yes!” You weren’t even sure what you were asking for in the heat of the moment.

Arching your back and crying out his name in syllables, his lips feverishly worked along your neck, kissing and taunting you further until you could take it no longer. Unable to control yourself, with a wicked crook of his fingers, you shrieked and came all over his hand. However, his fingers continued to move through the tightness of your walls around him, groaning at the sensation as he pushed them deeper. Your body trembled as you reached behind to hold onto him for support, but Ryuken was faster. Just as you came, he pulled out with a loud squelch, spun you around and sat you on his desk.

The sound of his belt unbuckling snapped you out of your haze as you looked over at him unzipping his trousers. His cock sprang free—thick, long and curved, just the way you remembered. At the sight, your pussy clenched and a fresh flow of arousal oozed you. “Ryuken?”

“Did you think I was going to let you off with that alone?” he muttered as he stepped forward and pried your legs apart, pulling you to the edge so your legs could easily wrap around his waist. “You’ve been teasing me all day—there’s no such thing as letting you off the hook with one round.”

➳❥ Jugram Haschwalth

“So serious, as always,” you purred, tilting your head to study his face. His sharp jawline, perfect golden hair, and piercing blue eyes made him appear as if sculpted by divine hands. Yet his cold demeanour gave the impression he was untouchable, unmoveable. “Do you ever take a break from being the right-hand man, Jugram? Or is being the Grandmaster your entire personality?”

His fingers still for a moment—reading the letter was placed on pause—before his gaze flickered to you, and then back at the letter. “I do not recall giving you permission to address me by my first name,” he replied calmly—almost detached.

“Oh, so formal.” You smirked, slithering yourself closer to where he stood against the bookshelf in his study. “Maybe that’s the problem, Jugram. You’re always so stiff. So uptight.” You leaned forward once you were close enough to bridge the gap and allow your body to brush against him. “Don’t you ever want to let loose? Relax? Or is that against Quincy regulations too?”

His hand tightened imperceptibly on the letter, his knuckles whitening. Still, he didn’t rise to the bait. Instead, his eyes remained firmly on the paper in front of him, though the tension in his shoulders betrayed him. Deciding to push him further, emboldened by his silence, you stepped even closer and placed your hand on his wrist. “I bet even your soldiers wonder. Does the Grandmaster ever let anyone close? Or are you just as cold in…other areas?”

Unable to recognise the speed of his following movements, you found yourself pinned between him and the bookshelf. Both hands were placed beside your head as he inched his face closer to yours. His jaw clenched, the tension radiating from him was intense, as his breathing sounded strained. “Careful,” he lowly warned.

“Or what?” you pushed, leaning even closer, your lips hovering near his, and yet he made no move to pull away. “What’s the worst you’ll do? Scold me? Deduct my non-existent points from the Quincy honour roll?”

For a moment, the room seemed to freeze. His movements were fluid while he held onto the last of his restraints, and stepped closer, the plane of his chest just an inch away from pressing against your chest and immobilising you completely. His towering form loomed over you, his cold eyes burning with an intensity you hadn’t seen before. “Do you think I haven’t noticed and understood what you’ve been doing all day?”

“And here I thought you were too busy paying attention to your reports,” you quipped with a grin. As the words left your lips, his right hand slid down to grip your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes and maintain eye contact. Your breathing hitched the moment his hand came in contact with your skin. Firm and commanding like its owner, and yet, despite his icy aura, it sparked a heat.

From your chin, his hand gripped the nape of your neck instead, tilting your head upwards. Brushing his lips against yours, you felt your knees buckle under you—thankful for the arm that snaked around your waist. “I believe our situation is quite unfair at this moment,” he whispered darkly against your lips before dipping his head to run his lips along your jaw to meet your ear. “Shall I fix it?”

You felt a mixture of excitement and trepidation as he pulled away from your body, guiding you to bend over the back of the sofa. There was a faint click of his tongue, sounding rather disappointing, as he bunched the hem of your dress around your waist and saw how you lacked underwear. The sight of your folds all wet and pluff was enough for him to lose a fraction of composure and remove his trench coat, followed by his belt and trousers.

“Look at you, frolicking about with no panties,” he growled into your ear as he pulled you into an arch. His hand came down to slap your ass before he rubbed the area and landed another on the other cheek. With ease, his fingers made contact with your pussy, prompting you to curl your fingers into the plush of the sofa.

He wasn’t gentle as they plunged into your heat, releasing loud squelching sounds as he pushed his digits deeper. “And you expect me to just give you what you seek when you parade around like this?” he muttered rather disappointingly. His cock brushed against your thigh and your pussy quivered, more juices trickled down, something his eyes didn’t miss, making him scoff.

“Look at you,” he continued, “dripped all over and desperate for my touch. Is this all for me?” Swallowing hard to reply, your words were cut off by a loud smack to your ass.

“…Yes,” you choked out as his fingers retracted.

Lining himself to your entrance, one hand on your waist, the other guiding his cock inside, you both moaned in bliss at the sensation of him being sheathed. Unlike most sessions, he would take his time to slide in, however this time, he buried himself to the hilt and gave you no time to adjust to the rhythm of his thrusts as he started his pace. From moaning in bliss, you were whimpering and squealing at the fast and hard pace he set, his hand preventing you from squirming too much.

Leaning down to press his chest against your back, his lips found your ear. “Why are you running? I don’t recall running away when you had your fun,” he stated in between his grunts, pausing to suck his lower lips between his teeth when you clenched around him. “Enjoy this as much as you did teasing me.”

And with that, he pulled you up to meet his thrusts. The loud sounds of his hips meeting your ass as he drove himself deeper, moulding your insides to fit him perfectly as they always did. For every brush of his tip against your sweet spot, you clenched around him and oozed more arousal—the slick sound created by his cock sliding in and out fuelled him to move faster.

“You wanted my attention,” he groaned with a low growl. “Now that you have it, let’s see how well you can handle it.”

➳❥ Urahara Kisuke

The air in Urahara’s shop was humid and filled with the scent of sex as he leaned against his workbench, hat tilted downwards to partially obscure his face, but not to hide the faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. His shirt hung open, loose and wrinkled, baring his chest and midsection to the faint glow of the shop’s overhead lights. His breath hitched, a low vibration in his throat as your lips brushed along the base of his cock, teasing the sensitive skin with the barest hint of suction.

“You’re enjoying this far too much, love,” he murmured in amusement with a hint of a strain. You could sense his undeniable frustration, yet you chose to ignore it.

Glancing at him, your hand wrapped loosely around the base of his cock, fingers trailing agonisingly slow from the base to the tip while your lips followed, littering tiny kisses. His twitched in your grip, swallowing a groan when you lips reached the tip, and your tongue swirled the head. “What can I say? I enjoy seeing you squirm,” you chuckled with a grin before you tongue shifting to trace the underside of his head, just enough to make him groan and buck his hips forwards instinctively.

You watched as his hands twitched at his sides, gripping the edge of the bench as he forced himself to keep still. His self-control was impressive, considering the way you kept your touch deliberately featherlight, never giving him enough to push him over the edge. “Squirming am I?” he panted, though the faint tremor in his voice betrayed him.

You hummed in response and pressed a chaste kiss to the tip of his cock before pulling away entirely to sluggishly give him teasing strokes. His hips buck slightly, chasing the fleeting warmth of your mouth, but you held him firmly, pulling back enough to maintain control.

“Now, now,” he muttered playfully with an underlying warning. “I hope you realise what you’re getting yourself into.”

Feigning innocence, you raised your brow and tightened your grip, your thumb brushing over the sensitive slit at the head of his cock, earning you a delicious groan form him. “Oh? And what would that be?”

He chuckled, though it sounded strained, his knuckled whitening as he gripped the bench harder. “Pushing your luck, for starters.”

“Oh please, Kisuke. You enjoying teasing, but can never take what you dish out,” you remarked and leaned forward to flick your tongue against him before you took him into your mouth, just enough to make his words falter. You felt his muscles tense under your palm, his cock throbbing against your tongue as you hollowed your cheeks and drew back slowly. But as he began to let out a groan signally his release nearing, you stopped, pulling back once more and gave him a sweet-eyed smile.

Instantly, his eyes snapped opened, and he tilted his head to look down at you, the faintest glimmer of mischief faded into a predatory look. “Alright then,” he softly said with a dangerous edge. “I did warn you.”

Before you could react, his hand shot out, gripping your hair and pulling your closer with a firm but not painful grip. The suddenness of it made your breath hitch, your hands reaching out to brace yourself against his thighs as he guided your mouth back to his cock. This time, there was no reason for teasing—his hips pressed forward as he pushed himself past your lips, filling your mouth and forcing your to take him deeper.

“Much better,” he murmured lowly with satisfaction as he held you there for a moment, his cock throbbing at the back of your throat. You wanted to smile at his frustration, laugh even, but when he fingers tightened in your hair to control your movements as he began to guide you up and down his length, the idea was cut. He was far from gentle.

The teasing was clearly over, and Kisuke made it abundantly clear who was in charge now. His other hand found your chin, tilting your head just slightly to adjust the angle, allowing him to slight even deeper. The sound of your muffled moans mixed with the obscenely wet noises of your mouth on him, filled the quiet room.

“Sound like a good girl when you’re not being a menace,” he breathed with a smirk, though his voice was strained, his usual playful tone now thick with lust. His hips rolled against your face, each thrust measured and precise, his cock hitting the back of your throat with every movement, producing a series of gurgles he seemed to enjoy.

You felt your eyes water as he held you in place, his thumb brushing against your cheek as if you sooth you. Despite his dominance, there was still tenderness in his touch, a gentle reminder that he was paying attention to every little reaction, ensuring you were comfortable as he pushed you to your limits.

“Ah, that’s it,” he groaned, his head tipping back and baring the delicious curve of his neck, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he allowed himself to lose some of his composure. His breaths came in short, ragged gasps, his control slipping as he felt the heat coiling tighter and tighter in his core. “Just like that…don’t stop now.”

When he finally came, his cock throbbed against your tongue as he spilled into your mouth, his cum hot and salty as it coated your throat. He held you there for a moment, his chest heaving as he rode out the waves of his orgasm while his fingers loosening in your hair. As he pulled back, his cock slipping from your mouth, he let out a chuckle, his grin returning in full colour despite the faint blush on his cheeks. “Well,” he hummed, “you certainly know how to keep things…interesting.”

“That’s the perks of being with you, Kisuke.” You gave a sly smile and wiped the corners of your mouth before leaning upwards to kiss his cheeks.

➳❥ Kyoraku Shunsui

Shunsui lounged lazily on a cushion near the open shoji doors, his hat tilted back slightly to reveal the sharp edge of his jawline and the teasing glint in his eyes. Or, at least, it had been there earlier. Now, his expression was a mixture of irritation and desire, his jaw clenched just slightly as his gaze followed you like a predator waiting for the perfect moment to pounce.

You stood a few feet away, leaning casually against the wooden frame of the door. The light fabric of your kimono was loose, slipping tantalisingly off one shoulder to reveal the soft curve of your collarbone. The neckline dipped just enough to give him a hint of cleavage—plump, inviting, and entirely intentional. Your lips curved into a sly smile as you caught him staring again.

“Shunsui,” you purred, your voice low and sultry. “You’ve been staring at me all day. Is something on your mind?”

His eyes narrowed slightly, though the corners of his lips twitched, betraying his amusement. “Now, now, don’t play coy with me. You know exactly what’s on my mind.”

“Oh, do I?” You tilted your head innocently, though your smile betrayed your intent. You took a step closer, your bare feet silent on the tatami. With each step, the hem of your kimono shifted, the fabric parting just enough to give him a glimpse of your thighs. His eyes followed the movement, darkening with each inch of exposed skin.

When you were close enough to touch, you knelt beside him, your movements slow and deliberate. His breath hitched as you leaned in, your lips so close to his ear that he could feel the warmth of your breath.

“I’ve been thinking about you,” you whispered, your voice dripping with sweetness. Your fingers brushed lightly against his arm, trailing up to his shoulder. “About your hands…your tongue on me. Deep in my pussy making me cum…”

His body tensed beneath your touch, his composure slipping as he turned his head slightly, his lips just shy of brushing yours.

“You’re cruel,” he murmured lowly and rough. “Saying things like that and then leaving me wanting.”

You chuckled softly, your hand sliding down his chest as you leaned even closer. Your lips barely grazed his, a phantom touch that left him chasing you as you pulled back. “Am I?”

Before he could respond, you were up again, moving across the room with a playful sway of your hips. The frustration etched across his face was delicious, and you revelled in the power you held over him.

It wasn’t until later in the evening when the sun had dipped below the horizon and the room was bathed in the soft glow of lanterns, that he finally snapped. You were standing by the table, pouring yourself a cup of sake, when you felt it—a sudden shift in the air, thick with intent. Before you could react, strong arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you back against a broad, firm chest.

“I believe I’ve had enough,” Shunsui growled into your ear, his voice low and dangerous.

You gasped, the cup slipping from your fingers and clattering to the table as he spun you around, his hands gripping your waist firmly but not painfully. His dark eyes bore into yours, the teasing glint from earlier replaced by a smouldering intensity that made your breath catch. “You’ve been tormenting me all day,” he said with a husky rasp. “Whispering all those filthy things, touching me, kissing me, only to dance away like some cruel little vixen. Do you enjoy driving me mad?”

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words caught in your throat as he lifted you off your feet, carrying you to the futon and laying you down with surprising gentleness given the intensity burning in his eyes. His hands moved to the tie of your kimono, pulling it loose with practised ease. The fabric fell open, exposing the soft curves of your body to his hungry gaze.

You shivered under his touch, your body arching into him as he leaned down to press hot, open-mouthed kisses along your neck and collarbone. His lips moved lower, teasing the sensitive skin of your breasts before capturing one of your nipples in his mouth. You gasped, your hands tangling in his hair as his tongue swirled over the sensitive peak.

“Shunsui,” you breathed, your voice barely above a whisper.

He hummed against your skin, the vibration sending a jolt of pleasure through you as he continued his slow, torturous assault. His other hand moved lower, sliding between your thighs to tease your already aching core.

“You’re so wet,” he murmured, his voice filled with a mix of awe and satisfaction. “Is this all from teasing me, or were you thinking about this too?”

“Both,” you admitted, your cheeks flushing as his fingers found your clit, circling it with just enough pressure to make your hips buck.

He chuckled, the sound low and rumbling as he pressed a kiss to your lips. “Good. Now let me hear just how good I make you feel, sweetheart.”

Without warning, he slid a finger inside you, curling it just right to make you cry out. He watched your reaction with darkened eyes, clearly enjoying the way you writhed beneath him. As his fingers slid inside, enjoying the way your gummy walls clamped down and sucking them back in, he brushed the tips against your sweet spot, earning a series of gasps. Your fingers scrambled to find purchase onto his shoulders, digging into the planes of his back and not caring that you were ruining his kimono.

Twisting and crooking them with vigour, your body trembled as you felt the fire building and your walls clenching around him. Your voice grew raspy as you clung to him, hips moving in sync with his rhythm to draw out your orgasm faster. The combination of his mouth on your breasts, switching sides as he swirled the hardened peaks between his lips and giving the occasional nips, alongside his thick digits rubbing your spot tipped you over the edge.

“Are you going to apologise, sweetness?” he whispered against your skin, pulling away from your breast to give a chaste kiss to your lips. “Or do I have to make you to beg to cum?”

“S-Shunsui…” you whined when his fingers slowed.

“Yes, sweetheart?” he urged sweetly and playfully, compared to the wickedness his fingers were performing below. “Are you sorry for teasing me without remorse?”

Unable to respond, you wrapped your hands around his neck and drew him in for a kiss, loving the gentle hum resonating in his chest as it escalated. Nevertheless, the torturous pace of his fingers remained. Even with the addition of his thumb circling your clit, causing your hips to stutter, he still didn’t give you want you sought, preferring to enjoy the needy whines and pleas.

“Shunsui, please…please let me cum.”

Breaking the kiss to meet your eyes, watching the way your brows cutely furrowed and your lips quivered, he grinned and pecked your lips once more. “I like it when you beg—it makes it harder to resist, especially when you look so cute,” he grinned against your lips. “But I still want to feel how sorry you are. So, let’s see how many times you can show me tonight.”

➳❥ Kuchiki Byakuya

You knew that testing his patience was the most dangerous thing you could do, yet here you were, doing the very same thing. He was reclined against the pillows, his dark hair sprawled out around him, giving him an angelic appearance while his facial expression was the opposite. Those piercing grey eyes watched you with precision as you straddled him, his hands resting at his sides, fingers twitching every now and then with the effort of restraining himself. You moved aching slowly on his cock at a pace that could only be described as torturous.

The soft, wet sounds of his cock sliding in and out your pussy and your ass meeting his thighs lightly reverberated across the room. However, as much as you were enjoying the moment, tossing your head back and pressing your hands against his chest for support, he wasn’t accepting your performance. It wasn’t deserving of a standing ovation.

“Must you always test my limits?” he murmured with a faint tinge of irritation slipping through. His brows were furrowed and his lips pressed in a thin line as his eyes flickered from your face to where you two were connected. “You are aware that you are testing my discipline in ways that border on cruelty.”

A mischievous smirk played on your lips as you rolled your hips gently, deliberately squeezing around him. “But you look so good when you’re barely holding it together,” you purred as you traced your fingers down his abs. “I just want to take my time. I think you can handle it, Captain Kuchiki.” Accentuating his title as you languidly rocked your hips, grinding against him at an excruciating pace, Byakuya’s jaw clenched. The only outward sign of his patience—he let out a long, slow breath, his lips thinning as if he were attempting to mediate through your torment.

His response was a low growl, his composure eventually cracking for the briefest moment. Finally, his hands moved, resting on your hips, his grip firm but not yet demanding. “You mistake my restraint for endless indulgence,” he said deceptively calm, though there was an unmistakable edge of warning beneath his words.

Ignoring the warning and leaning forward so that your breasts brushed against his chest as you kissed the corner of his mouth. “Maybe I just want to see how far I can push you,” you taunted.

The shift was sudden, as though a dam had broken. Byakuya’s grip tightened, his fingers digging into your flesh as he sat up in fluid motion, forcing you to squeal in surprise. Before you could fully process the change, he had flipped you onto your back, his movements smooth and efficient. “I tire of your games,” he warned and positioned himself above you.

Your smirk faltered, replaced by a gasp as he thrust into you without hesitation, the sudden vigour making your back arch off the futon. Your nails clung to his skin, raking down his back and leaving red marks in their wake. The soft sound of sweaty skin meeting changed into the loud pitter-patter of his cock sliding in and out your pussy at a faster rate. For every thrust, a fresh gush of your juices flowed out, soaking his entire cock and the futon underneath. A glance at the sight between you two prompted a deep hum in his chest.

“Do you still wish to ‘take your time’ with me?” he asked in a clipped tone dripping with condescension. His lips curled into a faint smirk as he watched your expression twist—jaw slack, eyes shut and pathetic whimpers escaping your lips. Your nails continued to rake across his back as you struggled to find purchase. Every thrust of his was punctuated with a silent warning to not test his patience.

“Y-you don’t have to—oh god—prove your point like this,” you stammered between breathless moans.

Byakuya arched an elegant brow, clearly unimpressed by your attempt to reason with him. “You seemed intent on drawing this out,” he muttered in satisfaction, his eyes displaying the same emotion. “Now, we shall do things my way.”

His hands gripped your thighs tighter and pulled them higher around his waist to deepen the angle, and the new position sent a jolt of pleasure through your body that left you stuttering his name. His cock was punishing your insides, brushing against your sweet spot with abandon want. You could feel how much your insides were stirring, his cock pushing deeper behind every thrust, making your toes curls. “Tell me, is this pace more to your liking?”

You couldn’t respond with words, your voice lost to the relentlessness of the waves of sensation coursing through your body. All you could do was cling to him, your body trembling as he continued his unyielding rhythm. The expert rolls off his hips as he paused momentarily to ground them against yours, causing his tip to press heavily against your sweet spot leaving you spasming. Your body shuddered as you clung to him desperately. The silent, sinful thrusts Byakuya delivered, each leaving your speech function incapacitated.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him down for a desperate kiss that he returned with equal fervour, his usual restraint giving way to something more primal. His lips moved against yours, hot and demanding as he pried more sounds from you, his hips never faltering.

“Byakyua, please—” you gasped when he pulled back, his name ringing out frantically, unsure of what you were asking for.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he quipped, displaying his rare touch of humour. His smirk widened, clearly satisfied with your incoherent whimpering as the room was filled with the sounds of skin meeting and your breathless, needy moans.

©satsugacafé 2024: no permission to repost, plagiarise, copy or translate my work onto any other platform or this one.

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edensrose · 4 days ago

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𝐃𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐀 𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐒𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐢 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 | (𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 2)

➳❥ 𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭: Hey, I was the anon who requested the "Dating a strong shinigami reader" head canon. Thank you so much! I absolutely loved it <3. I always loathed the fact that most reader x bleach characters were human damsels in distress, so believe me when I'm saying that I love your blog ^^. That being said can I please request general dating head canons for Shinji,Kisuke and Ukitake dating a (strong) shinigami in the gotei 13?

➳❥ 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬: Hirako Shinji, Ukitake Jushiro, Urahara Kisuke

➳❥ 𝐀/𝐍: I hope I didn’t give you the impression I forgot about your request anon. I also want to say a huge ‘thank you’ for how kind you are, and for enjoying my work with such enthusiasm. Makes me enjoy writing for you all a lot more.

➳❥ 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐱𝐭: General headcanons for dating a strong shinigami reader.

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐍𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

︶꒦꒷Hirako Shinji꒷꒦︶

𑁍 You have to be mentally and physically strong when dating Shinji. To put up with his antics, be it when he throws his tantrums, fights with Hiyori, or annoys the other Visoreds and you. Sometimes you gotta give him a look and he’ll bubble down.

𑁍 He’s so touchy, especially if you have muscles. You can’t go five seconds without feeling his fingers poking or his hands squeezing your arms or your thighs. Just bite him (but he might probably like that).

𑁍 You’re his “muscle baby” as he introduces you to everyone you come across. And he states it loud and proud with a shit-eating grin on his face, genuinely.

𑁍 Begs you to wrestle with him just for you to easily pin him under your body and then mention something about him winning the match because that’s exactly what he wanted you to do from the start. He never takes sparring with you seriously.

𑁍 Makes sure that you’re well-fed and would turn you into a foodie with the way he’s constantly scolding you for not eating enough. “Come on, you got a reputation to uphold as the strongest. I can’t have you all weak on the battlefield. Eat another bowl or I’ll feed you myself.”

𑁍 Very serious about your health even though he doesn’t come off that way. He would use his sarcasm to implement that you should be resting and not overworking, or not going after every big fight just because you’re capable and strong enough. You’re still susceptible to death and he doesn’t want to lose you.

𑁍 He’ll pretend to be scared of you in a humorous way—dramatically gasp and say, “Please don’t hurt me!” whenever you flex your muscles or draw your zanpakuto.

𑁍 Brags and boasts to everyone he comes across that you’re super strong with the coolest zanpakuto and could kick anyone’s—he is willing to bet on you winning.

𑁍 Loves to surprise you with little gifts after a tough battle. Whether it’s your favourite snack or a small trinket, he always finds a way to show he cares. He’ll hand it to you with a cheeky grin and say, “A little something for my favourite warrior.”

𑁍 Will give you the best prep talk before a fight while he stands on the side. “Just go out there and do your best while I stand here and look pretty. And if you fail, at least you looked cool.” He will be giving you tips from the sideline, which comes off as more distracting that helpful.

𑁍 You’re capable of shutting him up when you start explaining strategies for you all to win fights because he knows your tactics work all the time. The way you command and lead leaves him impressed. Leads him to always suggesting for you to lead scouting parties or fights. Your skills are exceptional.

𑁍 Very affectionate and enjoys draping over you like a lazy cat as he lets you know how much you mean to him, and don’t go dying out there, he still needed you. If you were gone, then there’s no one strong enough to protect anyone.

︶꒦꒷Ukitake Jushiro꒷꒦︶

𑁍 Supportive of his beloved, and loves watching you take the lead in situations while he stands aside and looks at you with pride. In between, he’ll give his two cents when you ask or when necessary. Other than that, he lets you take the lead. “I’m lucky to have someone as amazingly talented as you at my side.”

𑁍 Enjoys watching you and Kyoraku go head to head as you argue about the silliest of things until there’s the sudden mention of sparring to settle the score. He’s still confident that you could give his best buddy a good challenge.

𑁍 Proud of your accomplishments that others at your rank aren’t known for achieving, and will continue to give support, letting you know that you shouldn’t stop even when you achieved your goal.

𑁍 The perfect person to have visiting you as you spar. Why? He’s got all the refreshments—from the sweets to the healthy snacks. Just say the word he’ll whip it out his sleeves like some fairy godmother.

𑁍 He jokes about needing to work harder because you’re on your way to surpass him, and should you, he can’t be looking weak at your side. Even if you were strong, he still wanted to be at a level to protect and keep you safe as it was his duty.

𑁍 He still worries for you when you head out to face battles. It’s not an act to diminish your strength, but him naturally being concerned. You’re his sweetheart, no matter what.

𑁍 But when you do emerge from battles victoriously, he already has baths with salts and aromatic oils prepared and all your favourite tea and treats because he knows that you worked tediously out there, and you deserve the best. “I’m here now. Let me do the rest and take care of you. Rest now, my dear.”

𑁍 Let you join him when he’s training his division or his subordinates require practice. You’re someone he suggests for them to train and learn from. Always eager and excited to bring you over, sitting and listening with a cute smile as you command.

𑁍 He loves to bring about an air of serenity and romance, to remind you that your strength is one of the many reasons why he cherishes and loves you dearly. You are constantly reminded that he isn’t intimated at all.

𑁍 Bandages your injuries and gives them kisses to heal faster. Whispering that you should be more careful even though you’re capable, you’re still breakable and he doesn’t want to lose you.

𑁍 Now, yes he has his illness, but it doesn’t mean he can’t display his strength alongside yours. That being said, he’s still going to pick you up and carry you around when he can or the moment calls for it. Pressing a kiss to your forehead and whispering that he loves you.

︶꒦꒷Urahara Kisuke꒷꒦︶

𑁍 If you two were dating during the time he was an active shinigami, your strength comes from having to deal with being woken up at ungodly hours to help him experiment because you’re his assistant.

𑁍 Carrying his boxes of gadgets around to god knows where, then having to grab him by his collar to calm him down when he suddenly gets an idea to try something new on the spot, or goes running off.

𑁍 You two would have been dating for quite some time, and through Kisuke, he would have also given you a few extra lessons in certain areas of hand-to-hand combat so you could excel further.

𑁍 Now you can kick his ass anytime you two spar, and like Shinji, he uses it as an excuse to get closer. Grinning about how he still won the match.

𑁍 There was never an issue with you being stronger than him in any way. He was more curious on how you managed to end up with him when he was so fixated on inventing. If you were to ask Kisuke, he’d teasingly say, “Who me? Oh, I’m just a lucky, handsome guy who has endless charm that even you couldn’t resist.” It was the other way around, he couldn’t resist you.

𑁍 If you hadn’t achieved your Bankai yet, he was about to make that happen so you two could the couple who had the fast Bankai activation. And even if you had one, he’ll encourage you to perfect it and rise through the ranks by creating some device to speed up the process.

𑁍 If you two became a couple after his exile, it’s not much different, except receiving a new gadget that he designed to help increase your strength. Sometimes, they’re an obstacle than help. “I was trying to help you move faster.” “By blasting me into the atmosphere? I’m still finding sand in my Shihakusho from last week”

𑁍 Other times, they’re useful, like a reiatsu concealing cloak for stealth operations or multiple portable gigai. Even some new inventions are personalised for you.

𑁍 He enjoys watching you train. Be it in Soul Society or in his underground facility, he’ll either sit aside and watch you train with Tessai to master your Kido, or join in for a quick spar. When he’s done, he’ll take you out for food for drinks for a job well done.

𑁍 Likes to taunt people to fight and not fight you, it all depends. He enjoys watching others’ expressions when they realise that your strength is beyond their understanding. So it’s 50/50. “I wouldn’t get on their bad side…or good side. Any side for the matter, but you’re welcome to try. I’ll pay for the medical bill.”

𑁍 The flirtations are endless. He’s super attracted to your strength and makes all sorts of comments that leave you flustered, stunned or questioning his brain. “You know, you can probably pick me up with one hand and toss me like a javelin, and I’d still ask you on a date.”

©satsugacafé 2024: no permission to repost, plagiarise, copy or translate my work onto any other platform or this one.

#˚◞❀˳ 𝒈𝒍𝒐𝒔𝒔 ﹕ bleach ꒱ ₊˚⊹#read later #PUT THE NOTES IN THE BAG 🔫

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edensrose · 4 days ago

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𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐅𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭

➳❥ 𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭: love your blog! could I please request an angsty scenario for Hashwalth and Kyoraku, Kisuke where they are separated from reader in fight, and feel reader's spiritual pressure surrounding the entire era, but suddenly disappearing which makes them think that reader died. I hope it's clear? like I imagine that the raise in reader's reiatsu would alarm them since they hope for the best, but them being involved with their own fights makes them worried for their lover.

➳❥ 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬: Kyoraku Shunsui, Urahara Kisuke, Jugram Haschwalth

➳❥ 𝐀/𝐍: Not gonna lie anon, I was tempted to make this much more angstier than I wrote. I love a good angst, and my fingers were itching to make it all the more heartbreaking. Luckily, I didn’t since you didn’t specify to that extent. So, it’s still midly angsty. Enjoy!

➳❥ 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: reader being injured, bloodied and wounded, war and fighting, assumptions of reader dying, reader being unconscious, angst with comfort

➳❥ 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐱𝐭: While your lover was busy handling their own duties, leaving you to yours, you surprise them with your sudden disappearance after your reiatsu spiked, then vanished.

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐍𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

「 ✦ Kyoraku Shunsui ✦ 」

Rushing out of his fight after subduing Kāten Kyokotsu, Shunsui didn’t expect to perspire in the midst of using Shunpo as he flew through the forest. In the distance ahead, a massive outburst of your reiatsu continued to crackle through the sky, sending signals of distress his way. He didn’t expect you to take his words that literally when he placed his foot down and cautioned you to be more assertive when facing your zanpakuto since it was a force to reckon with and the complete opposite of you.

“Hang on, I’m coming,” he muttered under his breath, his usually calm demeanour replaced by a rare streak of worry. Neither of you expected the rebellion to occur out of the blue, however, when it did, you had your suspicions that yours would not hesitate to attack with aggression. The memory of your strategic and orderly nature clashed with the unpredictability of your zanpakuto spirit, making him fear the worst.

Quickening his steps, no matter how rapidly the forest blurred by, your location refused to appear. That is until the waves of your reiatsu vanished. Clipped like the wings of a bird. Not a hint of where it disappeared to. Just…void, like you no longer existed. Shunsui’s heart skipped a beat, dread settling in his stomach. No reiatsu meant death.

“This is one time when playing games isn’t necessary, sweetheart,” he murmured and pressed his lips into a firm line. Gripping his hat a little tighter, he sped up before noticing light breaking through the trees ahead and coming to what was once lush grassland, now barren with a giant crater at the centre.

Doing his best to keep his emotions under the lid, his eyes were covering every inch of the field, flickering to where possible signs of your body lay. No. He couldn’t think like that. You were alive…just unconscious perhaps. You wouldn’t leave him like that, not without saying good…He needed to stop his thoughts. This wasn’t him. He suffered far worse to crumble this easily.

Sieving through the remnants of forest life, he felt nothing. It was just the sound of debris crunching under his feet and the wind whipping around his kimono. “This will be the first time I despise hide-and-seek,” he whispered and walked over to the crater where he found your zanpakuto neatly sheathed on the ground.

Everything seemed to appear intact, which meant you successfully subdued them, but where the hell were you hiding. Desperation clawed at him, as he searched the forest high and low, calling your name until his voice was hoarse. Just when he was about to lose all hope, he felt it—a flicker of your reiatsu, like a dying ember struggling to stay alight. His head snapped up, eyes wide with determination. “There you are,” he breathed and sprinted towards the source of faint energy.

He found you on the other side of the forest, your body crumpled and unconscious, wounds marring your skin. Relief washed over him, but it was quickly replaced by concern as he knelt beside you, gently lifting you into his arms.

“Hey, love. Wake up,” he urged softly with a tremble of trepidation. “Come on, open those pretty eyes for me.”

There was a groan, followed by a struggling stir as you slowly regained consciousness. Your eyes partially fluttered open, meeting his worried gaze. “Shunsui…?”

“Shh, it’s okay, darling,” he soothed, brushing a loose strand of hair from your face. “You’re safe now. You gave quite a scare, you know?”

A weak smile tugged at your lips. “S-sorry…didn’t meant to…gave me trouble—”

“I know. I know,” he reassured with relief event in his eyes. “Just don’t do that again, alright? I don’t think my heart can take it.”

You sluggishly nodded, head pounding and unable to properly shake it as pain from your wounds flared up. His expression softened, and he carefully lifted you into his arms, cradling you against his broad chest. “Let’s get you back. You need to rest and heal.”

「 ✦ Urahara Kisuke ✦ 」

What started as a simple alarm in Rukongai 71st district as rouge Hollows appeared nearby, led to a full-on clash of metal ringing through the night’s air. It was odd and rare for Hollows to appear, even in the numbers they showed up in. Urahara hadn’t expect things to take a sudden turn when an Ajuchas launched itself at you, separating you from him in the heat of the fight. With each swipe of its hands, you were forced further and further away from his side, left to face this beast alone. Something he had no fear in you being able to accomplish—you were after all his lieutenant, apart from the ‘lover’ title.

A quick glance over his shoulder and he noticed you managing, left him calm as he calculated his next steps to take down the three that were encroaching. He trusted your abilities, confident that you could handle yourself. But then, as his mind began to relax, your reiatsu flared—a sudden, intense burst of energy that was quickly snuffed out. His head whipped around in search of you and found nothing. Not even a lock of your hair lying around.

But you were just there moments ago. How long did he take his eyes off you?

Being scared wasn’t something Kisuke was quite known for expressing or feeling, but his heart was racing erratically, wanting to lurch from his ribcage the longer his eyes searched the enclosure. There was nothing for him to make of your presence anymore. The silence was eerie, an unnerving stillness that settled over the field, leaving cold dread to creep into his thoughts.

Just as he was about to step into the forest where the last trace of your reiatsu sensed, the other Shinigami were regrouping, preparing to return to Seireitei and report their findings to Commander Yamamoto. However, Kisuke’s mind was elsewhere. He couldn’t leave without. Not knowing what happened and the possibility of you being out there alone. As the others regathered, he ignored his subordinates who approached him and slipped away with Benihime still unsheathed in his hand.

He was silent and swift with his movements, retracing his steps and eyes scanning the ground for any signs of you. The forest was dense, the shadows long and foreboding which left an unsettling sensation in his chest the longer he searched. His heart refused to accept the possibility that you were gone when he came across scraps of your Shihakusho on the floor, and nearby, laid your sword. But there was no sign of you.

“Where are you?” he worriedly muttered under his breath, gripping the hilt of Benihime tightly. His search continued as his mind raced with worry, the thought of losing you unbearable. However, just when he was about to lose all hope, he registered a faint flicker of reiatsu emanating from a nearby cave. It was weak, but it was unmistakably yours.

Hurrying towards the cave with quickened steps, he was faced with the cool and damp, almost suffocating atmosphere. Doing his best to adjust to the dimness of the area, he squinted his eyes as he cautiously marched across the dirt. And then he saw you crumpled on the ground, beside a giant boulder, your body battered and Shihakusho tattered with claw marks. At least you were alive.

His heart clenched at the sight of you struggling to breathe under the pressure of your wounds. Rushing to kneel beside you, he gently cradled you into his arms, not caring that his white haori was being stained with blood. All that mattered was you. “Hey,” he softly cooed with his emotions skimming underneath. “Can you hear me?”

Your reply was a loud heave, signally that you were unable to speak.

“It’s okay,” he soothed, more to himself than you as he curled you into his chest. His head came down to rest against your forehead, his lips brushing the debris-covered area to leave a comforting kiss. It was more for himself than you, given his shakiness. “You’re okay now. I’m here. I got you.”

A feeble groan was returned, followed by the sensation of your lashes fluttering against his cheeks. Gingerly, he pulled back to gaze at your face, noticing how much you were struggling to open your eyes and meet his worried expression. Thankfully, you didn’t, otherwise, you might have cried at how broken he appeared.

“Don’t move, love. I’ll get you back to Seireitei,” he comforted as he stood with you in his arms, cradling comfortably in his arms where you would be the safest.

「 ✦ Jugram Haschwalth ✦ 」

Jugram had always been a man of few words, his stoic nature making beneath the depths of his loyalty and conviction. As he stood facing the new Captain-Commander of Gotei 13, Kyoraku Shunsui in the quiet space between the battlegrounds, the air thick with tension, his senses were alert. Kyoraku, ever the playful and laidback one, wore his ever-present grin, but Jugram knew there was no humour in this encounter for him.

“Is that so?” Kyoraku’s voice broke through the tense silence. “It seems you think far too highly of Yhwach proclamations.”

A slight, almost indiscernible tightening of Jugram’s jaw was the only outward sign of irritation, but he remained composed. “You know as well as I do, Kyoraku. The Shinigami reign has come to an end.”

The two men stood in a stalemate for a moment, their words laced with underlying threats, both sides calculating and watching for the slightest sign of weakness. It was then, during this quiet, deadly exchange that Jugram’s senses suddenly wavered. A surge of reiatsu, sharp and unmistakable spiked in the distance, causing his gaze to shift momentarily, as though listening for an echo. The familiar pull in his chest was undeniable. Your reiatsu.

No, Jugram thought, unable to ignore the increasing ache of concern that gnawed at him. He couldn’t let it show, but it was there, gnawing at deeper with each passing second. He couldn’t afford to focus on you now. Not while he was in the middle of a mission. But fate had a way of changing plans and making things worse.

But Kyoraku, ever the perceptive, seemed to have noticed the change in Jugram’s demeanour, the subtle shift in his focus. “You’re looking rather distracted,” he teased, eyes narrowing. “Are you sure you’re here for the Shinigami’s annihilation or distracted by something else?”

Before Jugram could respond with a sharp retort, he sensed Yhwach reaching out to summon his return to Silbern. His spine stiffened, hands twitching as Yhwach’s order was absolute. Return. His heart lurched in his throat, and for the first time, he hesitated. His plan was to cut down this Shinigami before him and set out to find you. The feeling of your reiatsu—fleeting and unstable—pulsed in his mind. He felt a cold sweat breaking out along his brow as Yhwach’s order resonated in the depths of his mind, ordering his return. Yet, as if in defiance, his body froze, his attention drawn back to you.

What was happening to you?

He had never been one to show vulnerability, especially not in front of others. He had been trained to suppress emotions, to act without hesitation, however, in that brief moment, he was torn—torn between duty and the silent bond he shared with you. The pressure was unbearable, but his pride would not allow him to act against his Emperor’s direct order.

And then, as he turned to retreat into the shadows, you were snuffed out. Like flame with no trail. He felt like he was doused with a bucket of ice-cold water. Before things escalated further and he spent another second longer, he walked away in silence with one thing on his mind: you.

His return to Silbern felt like an eternity.

As he moved through the hallway of Silbern, eyes falling calmly on each Sternritter he passed, in hopes of identifying your face. His order was simple, execute RB9 and Cang Du for their failure. He barely flinched when his sword was brought down upon them each, his mind too distant with thoughts of you circulating his head.

You were Sternritter ‘M’. ‘The Marionette.’ There was no way you could be taken down so easily. You had a file on all those pesky Shinigami, so you knew how to counter. Not a single one of them was worthy enough to match your strengths and skills. Who did you encounter and who did he need to make suffer a thousand times over?

Evacuating the room after the execution, not caring about the mess, his steps were slow as he moved through the corridors of Silbern. His thoughts were torn between duty and his hidden, personal feelings. Each step led him further away from Yhwach, yet closer to something he couldn’t ignore. The temptation to leave Silbern and search for you was overwhelming. And yet, his pride held him back. But the more he walked, the more restless he became. His mind, still racing with thoughts of you, finally led him down the long, dark corridors towards the exit.

As he stepped through the archway, he caught the sight of you. Breath stuck in his throat, you were standing there, bloodied, bruised, your clothes torn, but alive. Your eyes met his, and a silent understanding passed between you. The emotions he kept buried within him, swelled.

“You’re alive,” he simply stated, though his words carried much more weight that was unspoken. He took a step forward, an arm’s length apart.

You smiled at him, albeit tiredly. It was a small weary smile, but enough to make his heart ache. “Of course I am,” you replied steadily. “A little bloodied, but I survived.”

His gaze softened as he took a step closer, his eyes scanning your body, checking for signs of injury. You had fought hard he could see that. But there was something in his chest, a sense of possessiveness, an instinct to protect, that tightened his grip on his emotions.

“You should return to your chambers,” he whispered firmly, yet with a lover’s tone. “You’re in no condition to continue as you are.”

Your expression didn’t change, but your eyes softened as you looked up at him, understanding his unspoken concern. “Yhwach wouldn’t accept me returning with a single victory,” you muttered and looked down at his hands, watching the way they curled and unfurled at his side.

“That’s not a decision for you to make.” His lips pressed into a thin line as he fought the desire to hold you, to show you how much he cared. “You will return to your chambers, see the healers and then return to the field. Do not make me repeat myself.” He had given you an order, but it was more than that. He showed you in his own way that he cared. Even though he preferred you off the field after your current events.

“As you wish, Jugo.”

As you sidestepped to enter Silbern, you felt the touch of his gloved hand wrapping around your wrist, before the sudden pull of your body into his chest. He said nothing as he held you in silence, cherishing the thumping of your heartbeat and the warmth of your skin. A remarkable sign of open affection, but acceptable due to nearly losing you.

“Be more careful out there, please,” he stated with a begging whisper. “I still need you.”

©satsugacafé 2024: no permission to repost, plagiarise, copy or translate my work onto any other platform or this one.

#˚◞❀˳ 𝒈𝒍𝒐𝒔𝒔 ﹕ bleach ꒱ ₊˚⊹#read later #i see FOOD

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edensrose · 4 days ago

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#˚◞❀˳ 𝒔𝒖𝒈𝒂𝒓 '𝒏 𝒔𝒑𝒊𝒄𝒆 ﹕ polls ꒱ ₊˚⊹

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edensrose · 4 days ago

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˚◞❀˳ best memories 🥺🥺

Most blessed type of fandom experience tbh

#˚◞❀˳ 𝒈𝒍𝒐𝒔𝒔 ﹕ lovelies 🩷 ꒱ ₊˚⊹

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edensrose · 12 days ago

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𝐃𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐔𝐲𝐫𝐮 𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐇𝐮𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐖𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐈𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞…

➳❥ 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬: Hello! Can you do Uryu dating a human without powers headcanon? I would love to read it. Thank you!

➳❥ 𝐀/𝐍: I wholeheartedly apologise for taking long, and giving the impression that I ignored your request. I hope this was to your liking :)

➳❥ 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐱𝐭: You’re a human without powers dating Uryu

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐍𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

˚₊‧꒰ა It doesn’t matter whether you know about him being a Quincy of not, as a gentleman, Uryu will be looking out for you. Be it walking you home, ensuring Hollows weren’t near your house or area, or no one trouble you.

˚₊‧꒰ა Dates with him will be quiet, but memorable. Picnics, visiting the ice-skating ring and watching him effortlessly glide across the ice, library dates, cooking dates, going on walks, even having a sewing course.

˚₊‧꒰ა Study dates are also on the list. He wants to see you do your best and is more than willing to organise binders and cue cards if needed.

˚₊‧꒰ა That’s one thing you must expect when dating him—somewhere along the line, you would pick up sewing tips from him anytime you have tears or holes in your clothes. Though he prefers you inform him so he can whip up something new and fancy (with a cloak).

˚₊‧꒰ა With the expectation of receiving clothes made by him, he can’t resist placing Quincy crosses in discrete places and brushes them off as his signature. “Uryu, what’s this cross?” “…my signature.”

˚₊‧꒰ა As much as we know he has his Quincy pride, part of him feels relieved to have someone who isn’t a part of the whole “superhuman.” You’re his slice of normalcy and someone he cherishes deeply.

˚₊‧꒰ა You will suddenly feel his gaze on you at random times, and should you meet him head-on, a faint blush will appear before he averts his eyes. He likes to admire you in silence and secrecy. Simply observing you in your mundane world of activities gives him a sense of accomplishment—you’re safe and here with him.

˚₊‧꒰ა Every minute spent with you is one he holds near his heart. He loves the fact that it reminds him of what it felt like to be normal without Quincy’s duties to uphold. He probably couldn’t remember what it felt like to live as a regular human who knew nothing about Hollows since he grew up learning about them all his life.

˚₊‧꒰ა At the same time, he feels guilty when he has to step aside to take care of Hollow situations or leave with the gang to help his friends. Every second away from you, feels like he’s losing what it means to be human, that peace.

˚₊‧꒰ა That’s why, he would back out on missions and leave it to others to handle. He trusted the others to oversee everything and only reached out to him when the situation was grave.

˚₊‧꒰ა He doesn’t often speak about his background or history. Should he inform you of anything, it would be the basics about his abilities, that Hollows were Quincy’s poison and shouldn’t be allowed to exist, hence the reason he hunts them.

˚₊‧꒰ა You would eventually know about his Quincy background. Probably due to seeing him in uniform or overhearing a conversation and confronting him. He feels guilty that you caught him, and can’t bring himself to lie even when he wants to. At least your acceptance was a breath of relief.

˚₊‧꒰ა You would give him support, which only pushes him to protect you all the more. At night when you think he’s sleeping, think again. He’s on your rooftops being your bodyguard.

˚₊‧꒰ა “I heard from Inoue that you spent all night standing guard on my roof?” Teasing about it makes him turn tomato, if you did find out because you would. Uryu can’t keep you hidden from his friends because they will find out and let it slip. They proceed to embarrass him, telling you how he loses sleep over you every night.

˚₊‧꒰ა Speaking about him being a tomato, that image would also appear often should you bring him home-cooked meals or gifts and emphasise that you were thinking about him since he works so hard to keep everyone safe. “Please don’t overdo it Uryu—you’re too hardworking.”

˚₊‧꒰ა “It’s my job as a Quincy to keep you safe, however, I’ll return safely.” Uryu gets softer even though he acts tough when you caution him on being safe and not overworking because you want him to return to you in one piece and alive. “Yes, Mr ‘It’s my job as a Quincy.’ Just come back safely.”

˚₊‧꒰ა Goes into a slight heart attack if he ever heard you were injured. Even if you tripped and stubbed your toe or walked into a wall because you’re clumsy as hell. Do expect a lesson on being more careful as he dresses your injuries.

˚₊‧꒰ა He will go to the ends of the earth to save you from any enemy. There isn’t a situation created, that could hinder him from rushing in to save you. He’ll fight anything and everything.

˚₊‧꒰ა Uryu understands that as a human without powers, you might feel left out and probably unworthy of being with him. To prevent any insecurities from developing, he tells you from time to time how much he appreciates the simplicity of your non-powered nature.

˚₊‧꒰ა “I know you probably feel as though you’re not doing much given your inability to have powers, but I want you to know that your greatest power is the love and support you give me. Thank you.” He’ll whisper to you softly one evening after returning.

˚₊‧꒰ა He appears quite shy at first when it comes to physical affection since he’s not the physically affectionate type. Staring at your hand and telling himself to hold it or receiving hugs from you. He genuinely wanted to feel the warmth you emitted through touch. That was in the beginning, but once the honeymoon stage was gone, he was confident. He finds the energy you emit to be tranquil.

˚₊‧꒰ა Kisses to your forehead or temple whenever in public and he chooses to be affectionate. Your cheeks would be the closest to your lips he would get, unless you trick him or there isn’t a soul in sight, and he sneaks a quick one. Behind closed doors, he melts.

˚₊‧꒰ა It was hard for him to imagine being someone into cuddling, but he proved to enjoy the gesture more than he likes to admit. It happens in private when he knows the gang isn’t going to randomly pop out.

˚₊‧꒰ა Uryu cuddling you was a moment he couldn’t believe was so…peaceful. Your scent, warmth, presence, everything, was enough to make him forget about the world. The minute you pulled him closer, kissed his forehead and brought his head to rest on your chest or neck, he melted.

˚₊‧꒰ა Your arms are his favourite place in the world to be. The weight on his shoulders is gone. All his responsibilities—vanished. “This…feels nice. I like being in your arms.”

˚₊‧꒰�� In those moments, he loves to listen to you talk about your day, whether it was a great or terrible day. Uryu wants to hear all about it and help you navigate. Give him something to solve that wasn’t on a world-altering level.

˚₊‧꒰ა He usually falls asleep in your arms like that. When you remove his glasses to stare into his pretty blue eyes while raking your fingers through his inky hair, straight to sleep (probably reminds him of when his mom used to do that).

˚₊‧꒰ა Also, you once came across his Quincy uniform lying haphazardly on the floor, which wasn’t Uryu’s behaviour at all and tried it on. Let's just say that when he saw you in it, he almost caught a nosebleed and mentally saved the image to make a uniform for you as well—just for matching couple purposes.

˚₊‧꒰ა You had convinced him to let you two walk around during Halloween dressed like that so it wouldn’t be suspicious.

˚₊‧꒰ა His father learning about his relationship was quite pleased that his son found someone who wasn’t going to bring problems and was normal. You were a breath of fresh air, and Ryuken was welcoming. You would be someone who would keep his son away from his Quincy ambitions.

©satsugacafé 2024: no permission to repost, plagiarise, copy or translate my work onto any other platform or this one.

#˚◞❀˳ 𝒈𝒍𝒐𝒔𝒔 ﹕ lovelies 🩷 ꒱ ₊˚⊹#oh what a sweetheart #him sewing stuff for us. . . and putting what i assume to be a protection seal on it?? so soft #he's sooooo shy in the beginning but he warms up AH #the staring at you and then looking away and blushing fuckkk my heart #THE UNIFORM THING TOO LIKE AHHHZJXKXKXKZKZKX I LOVE THAT TROPE SO MUCH #really brought the idea to life about how he acts and kept it really consistent !!!#also i giggled at the rooftop thing that was sooooo #the “my signature” part was hilarious too #him assuring reader too that he loves them being human. . .#HIM FEELING THAT HE'S LOSINGHIS HUMAANITY WHENEVER HE'S AWAY !!!!!#all of this was really nice #i dont know this character but he's so sweet

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edensrose · 12 days ago

Note

Posts a namo writing out of nowhere. Then dips. Where have you BEEN.

˚◞❀˳ writing my book of course !! also I am still very very in love with him despite everything I HAD to write a random piece for him just for the sake of it !

#˚◞❀˳ 𝒃𝒖𝒃𝒃𝒍𝒆𝒈𝒖𝒎 ﹕ anon ꒱ ₊˚⊹#although i could see myself quite rusty on silm lore

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edensrose · 12 days ago

Text

Circles

Fandom: The Silmarillion

Rating: M

Relationships: Haleth/Caranthir

Characters: Haleth, Caranthir

Additional Tags: The Silmarillion References, Elves, Elf/Human Relationship(s), Friendship, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Beleriand, Drama, Mild Sexual Content, Used LACE here because it suited me, but not the characters alas, POV First Person, Haleth POV, Sexual Tension, Heavy Angst, Happy ending-we don't know her

Count: 5.5k

Also on AO3

Summary: An older AU oneshot from a time when I was deeply invested in this ship.

Haleth has led her people well, dedicating her entire life to duty. Now an old woman, she reminisces of the past. A short AU where Caranthir the Dark and Haleth of the Haladin shared more than just words.

My time is near, I feel it. A manner of mercy, they say. For one to seek and severe their ties to this world; to counsel others in carrying on their legacy, such as it is, and to say their farewells.

The years have been long and hard, full of both darkness and hope for us. And where before I ran and rode and fought over never-ending plains and marched through wild forests, now I merely listen, lying in bed, my bleak vision straying beyond the window of my hut amidst the darkened boughs of the forest given to us by king Greymantle.

I have said my farewells, and now, I wait for the nether. I go forth with my head held high, knowing I’d done all I could for our people as we strove for a better home, a fuller life.

But life had never been simple.

As I sit here, unable to rise as before, my bones now crumbling and thin, my mind yet runs over green fields of memory. I dwell on forgotten seas of hope until at last, I come to the one farewell I have not said, and never will; it dwells within me, word for ragged word.

I stood alone for most of my life, devoted to handling woes and struggles. And even so, there were voices, either of dissent or wrought with genuine concern, wondering why I should not take a life companion. Why I should not bring forth heirs as customary among my people, and other peoples of this world.

Would that I could, I would say, and they would wonder and whisper, and surely think me strange, though none ever questioned my words outright.

But what could I tell them? That I thought I belonged with one whom I would never again meet, until the ends of the world, and likely not even then? That I yielded to one I left behind, and did so for them?

No, the choice was my own. The loss is mine and his alone, as is our scarred secret, and carefully I grasp at these recollections of him and I. With each passing day that I slip further away, they gain new color and life. My body will be dust, my mind a memory. My deeds may not be sung, nor honored along the Ages and I will be forgotten, as happens with all those fading on the pages of time.

But this... bond, still grips me, and though I desperately loathed its haggard pull in the past, it now may be the sole token left to me once I go unhoused beyond the Night.

Now, as times before, despite my savage rebuttal of it through the years, my thought ever strays to him.

I had little love for his manner when we first spoke.

They had cornered us like animals, and we were struggling to hold against the Enemy who fell upon us as cruel and swift as lightning. My father and brother and I, and all our people, fled our homesteads and retreated until we came to an angle of land between the rivers Gelion and Ascar. There we built hasty defenses and led all our own through, despite many knowing in their hearts this could well be their end. We lay besieged by the Orc, and the little food we’d saved dwindled rapidly.

For days we held our own, but they seemed to ever grow in numbers, and we were tiring.

I had barely reached adulthood at the time but never shunned the blade, for it was our way. And so I stood beside my father and drove them out and kept them at bay as best we could. And all they did was howl at us in their coarse tongue, and their beastly cries sewed horror in our hearts.

I recall the warmth of the heavy hand on my shoulder. “Pay them no heed, Haleth. We may not win the day. But we must hold,” my father said, and I listened, or tried to, gritting my teeth against the fear coiled deep within.

Those were the last words he ever spoke unto me and I watched as he fell, and then saw my brother, a dread look in his eyes and a steel grip holding me firm. “You stay, sister. Our people will have need of you. Remember our stand.”

After a hasty embrace, he went, and there died my family, hewed before the frightened eyes of our women and children.

On the seventh day, the foe at last broke our defenses, and their weapons clove through our people. We fought, we fought beyond hope, bewildered, and were late to hear the faraway wailing of trumpets, but soon our eyes beheld tall riders and a sea of spears like beacons in the dark.

Swiftly this unknown host rode them down, the creatures who ruined and dismembered my family, and threw them into the rivers.

I recall running straight to where the bodies of my father and brother lay, straining to breathe and draw them from the midst of the slain, to cover their battered limbs with my cloak.

Then there was movement and a cloud of dust, and lifting my gaze I saw a great black steed, bearing a rider clad in mail and crimson. His helm hid most of his face, and blinded by stray tears, I could not see his eyes.

He came to a halt, high on his mount, and an imperious voice with a stilted accent filled my ears.

“Where is your leader?”

As I entered the hastily raised tent, I recall gaping in wonder at the intricately woven materials, the sparse yet elegant furnishings that spoke of never-seen skill and wealth.

I had no notion of wealth. Our folk had traveled and toiled hard for a sparse and lacking life, and we knew little of the ways of other kindreds. Least of all we knew of these foreign Elves. And though I was enthralled, I also felt a sliver of envy claw at me. Who were these high lords atop their mighty mounts, so carelessly flaunting their worth and riches before us? How dare others not partake of our misery, but so easily dismiss it with their steel stares and aloof manner?

He was there, standing in his gleaming armor, his dark hair of a strange shine to my eyes, falling straight over shoulders cloaked in red. An eight-rayed star traced in gold thread adorned his tabard, over his heart. I knew it was him by the sight of his helm, placed nearby on a table.

My back stiffened when our stares clashed, and for a moment, my breath fell short; I recall the flicker as if it were yesterday.

His voice beckoned me out of my momentary lapse of reason. Its quality was grave and low, its call dark as a clear winter night. “Lady Haleth, I bid you welcome,” the Elf continued his mangling of our tongue.

“I am no lady,” I blurted, cursing my stunted words and hitched speech. But I stood as tall and straight as I could, or as seven days of battle and loss would allow.

A black fire brimmed in his eyes, but his face showed nothing. “Then what am I to call you?” asked the Elf, and I remember the surge of shame at my foolish compulsion to thwart him.

I berated myself. This Elven lord and his men had come, found us in dire need and dying by the numbers. Without falter, they had granted their invaluable aid. Gratitude was due, but nothing more.

Still, I worried that I may have offended him, and so was astonished when instead of ire, I saw the softening lines of his face and the slight quiver of his lips.

Was he mocking me?

My hands tightened involuntarily into fists. A mighty Elf-lord though he was, and ruler of these lands, but I came to him as required by honor. And though I was in worn furs and leathers and he in plate and rich silks woven by immortal hands, our people’s blood had spilled countless times defending these lands, his lands. Thus, I spoke for them, and he would show me the respect that was due. “You are to call me Chieftain.”

I still so vividly remember his shapely eyebrows shooting upward, and the bemusement on his face. “How old are you?” asked the sullen Elf, now coming around his table and leaning against it, a peculiar expression on his face.

Potent anger took me, and barely could I ease the nervous trembling of my limbs. He saw it either way. He also knew, that right then I felt the need to strike him (I am certain of it, for we spoke of this later).

“My age should be of no concern to you or anyone else, I should think,” I said carefully. “Chieftain is what I am, following the death of my father and brother in this sortie.”

The mirth dancing in those nightly coils died, and his face was stern as we faced each other, his youthful features cut in stone. “My condolences for your loss, Chieftain,” he stressed the last word, only to rile me in spite, I thought.

I nodded in acceptance and held his gaze. “Lord Carnistir, I speak for all of us when I say we are most grateful for your aid,” I braved, careful in drawing any sort of emotion out of my voice. “But we have nothing to offer you as recompense for this timely support,” I delved into the midst of the matter, assuming that was the direction this was headed.

He righted himself then, walking to where I stood straight as a rod, my hand grasping the handle of my father’s sword for dear life. Suddenly that damnable tent felt much, much smaller.

My heart drummed faster with every step until he was before me, taller than any being I had ever seen; and though I knew little of life beyond the strip of land our people called home, I was certain that, to me, he would also remain the fairest.

His eyes flitted briefly over me, and I wondered why he lingered. I wanted this to be done with. I thought nothing of how his cold eyes strayed to my unruly brown locks, down to my calfskin-wrapped boots, and up again, to my dirty tunic marred with blood and grime; his gaze at last locked on mine.

I jerked my chin up in defiance, unwilling to grant anyone the pleasure of thinking they may cower me. He would later tell me he was smitten, though failing to acknowledge such even to himself. I would tell him he was a fool. But then, we both were.

“I want no manner of restitution from your people, Haleth daughter of Haldad,” at last he spoke with a precarious smile. “If that is your worry, then you may freely relinquish the thought.”

“I may freely do much. For we are all free here, Lord, and will fight for it until our dying breath.”

To my wonderment, in an abrupt flurry leaving me both breathless and intrigued, his mood turned fey.

“Free, on my lands,” he spat.

This was preferable. An irate Elf-lord was much, much better than a derisive one. “Not for much longer,” I said, every bit the stubborn daughter my father had raised me to be.

“Make certain of it,” the Elf said through gritted teeth, his face poorly veiling his discontent, and I remember how it was my turn to smile.

He spun away from me and went to sit back at his richly crafted table, taking a scroll in hand.

I fought against the brimming humiliation of this gesture, but before I could leave without a word, insulted by this petty disregard for my pretense of equality, he looked at me again. “You are weary. Best we continue this on the morrow, I think. Farewell, for now, Chieftain.”

I inclined my head. Secretly thankful for his words despite the bizarre manner of our meeting, I turned on my heel and left him alone in his master-crafted tent.

That night, along with the cries of my father and brother, the dark light of his eyes followed me through the first rays of dawn.

I’ve always known my desires and never shied from making them known. Where there is youth there is fire and I was no different. My folk had well respected Haldad, my father. And they had seen enough of me during our desperate stand, which we thought would be our last, to readily support my hand in the matter of rule. I awaited challengers, and naysayers, but to my surprise there came none.

We knew there was no life for us in Thargelion besides. We had to be gone, and a future further West was our purpose. Farther from the darkness ruling the world, which these Elves ever battled since their arrival to these lands, or so I’d heard.

Following our fight against the creatures of the enemy, the Elven host stood by us for some time yet and aided to rebuild our homesteads. I had to admit the need was dire, with the many wounded we had in our midst.

Tall, beautiful, and cold in manner most of them were, but none shirked from any duties and they carried even the most menial of tasks with no protest.

It was a strange sight.

“Why are you doing this?” I remember asking the one whom I knew to address as prince Carnistir. For he was a prince of Elves I’d learned, by nature of his line. And it all made me seethe though I no less lamented the prickly nature of our first exchange.

“I do not understand,” the Elf offered, then standing beside me, his hands clasped behind his back.

At times, he seemed so young despite his years. “You continue to aid us. Why?”

There was a pause before he spoke. “Are your valor and unity against the Foe not reasons enough?” he answered with a question, at which point my initial dislike of him returned. “But before you feel slighted yet again,” he continued, “it is because you so clearly need it.”

Many things I detested about his words. We knew our worth; we needed no Elves to sustain it. But he also spoke true, as we sorely welcomed their aid in numbers.

His demeanor had changed the second time we spoke at length, and the following. The frosty disposition remained, but there was no more derision on his face or in his voice when he addressed me. The flame in his gaze, however, burned the same.

“We will remove to Estolad,” I spoke unto him, hoping there would be no qualms with my following words. “But we are not yet ready.” He’d been quite vehement that first time that we were to leave as swiftly as possible, and part of me loathed offering words of penance for our delay.

“You misconstrue me, Chieftain,” said the Elf after moments in silence. “Whatever I have said, I did not intend to at once force you away from lands none make use of today. Stay and prepare, and depart when you are ready.”

I felt his eyes on me as my gaze focused ahead.

“You have my continued support, should you seek it.”

Again I found it curious that he would offer such to mortals his kind clearly thought fleeting and wild, and reduced to surviving the day. There was a serene pride in the manner of the Eldar towards us, though it may have been more visible to our eyes than theirs.

I looked at him finally and lingered on the dark and treacherous grace of his features in the falling red sun. His straight, shining hair a shadow-river to drown in, and I recall wondering how it might feel through my fingers.

“Chieftain.”

I nearly flinched, meeting his gaze. “Aye, lord.”

“Will you and what you can spare of yours join us for a hunt? I see the need is dire, and after your heavy losses I know they would welcome the nourishment.”

I felt my face warming and cursed whatever had caused it, wishing not for the first time that my father were doing this instead of me. And then my mien must have darkened at the thought, for he spoke again.

“Of course, it is only a courtesy invitation. We can do well enough on our own.”

“No!” I added, too swiftly for my liking. “No, we will join you.”

So he nodded to me in his strange way, his palm to his chest, and left me watching a sun that had already set. I found it peculiar how his steps made no sound as he strode away.

Now, thinking back to my young and deluded self, I can clearly say that was the moment; when deep within, I knew what I wanted.

We hunted together once, twice, and soon times too many to count, both with and without a host.

As my people lingered and thoughts of leaving were delayed, all focus turned on regaining what we’d lost and rebuilding our livelihoods, and I found solace in this new and unlikely company. It suited me, and at the time I thought little of the months he would ride from his dwelling in Helevorn to see how we fared, bringing men and some form of aid or another more often than not.

And as the years passed, the quiet and morose Elf-lord I met after a grueling fight became someone I was glad to see riding before me and eager to speak to, of matters of both rule and strategy and all in between. Of course, to him, I would never show such interest outright.

Then sometimes we strayed from our company to be alone, where I could share things I dared not tell anyone since my brother perished. He would listen, only offering advice when requested, which I now think may have been a change to suit my then easily riled temper. And he would speak of himself, and his own brothers and family, of his kind. It astonished me at first, for I never thought him willing of entrusting me with such honest thoughts regarding kin.

It was during one such outing that it all changed.

We were pursuing the trace of a boar for a while, and I walked close behind him, for his senses were keener. He’d ceased his fluid stalking and listened intently.

“Carnistir,” I whispered, wanting detail on what he could discern ahead.

What he did was unexpected. He half-turned as he listened and placed a long, elegant finger to my lips, hedging me to silence.

The gesture marked the first time we touched, accompanied by the swift throb of my heart. And then as in a dream, he slowly turned to face me fully, and I knew not whether to brave this or flee.

I’d never felt the coward before.

His finger slowly glided away from my dry lower lip, but his eyes never left mine.

“We should not linger so, alone together, any longer. Tongues are loose and minds scattered.”

His words caused a near-physical pain I did not understand. How long had he waited to tell me this, I wondered. I then knew he’d been pondering on the different facets of it all, of this, perhaps more than I. And I felt even more young and foolish before him. “You wish for us not to meet any longer?” I had to know.

He stepped closer. “I wish, for you to be held in honor, and not a topic of gossip.”

“I am held in honor, or had you not noticed,” my pride said, and we regarded each other for a long time in silence.

My lips parted as I studied his face. His beautiful face, strong dark eyebrows framing eyes where an eternal fire burned.

“Is that all you wish for?” I asked, my voice too small to my own ears, regretting the words the moment I uttered them.

“Haleth.”

“Yes,” I breathed, unable to look away, expecting an Elvish rebuttal from the hissed way he uttered my name, already feeling cold shame at thinking such things as I did a moment before.

When he said nothing more and did not move, I knew, somehow I felt, that he was faced with the same inner strife as I.

By then I had not been with any men, nor shared even a kiss to know what it meant or how it felt. But that did not prevent my arm from reaching around his neck, my lips from brushing over his in a motion so swift even he appeared bewildered.

So we clashed, more strongly than blade against blade, and to my selfish delight, it took a mere flicker of time before he deepened what I’d begun. He drew me closer to him, tasting me wildly, and I was smiling like a fool into his kiss. And we went this way until my searching, fumbling fingers disarrayed his perfect silken tresses, and my body came completely lined against his as he held me with near-bruising strength.

Just as suddenly he ceased it all, at once astonished and confused, and I recall the misery and doubt brimming in his eyes. He took me by the shoulders, still panting from the sudden storm we both weathered. “This is... too young... you are... too young.”

So many differences between us. He had lived years many times my age, yet he failed to understand human reckoning. I was not too young to hold a sword and thrust it into the flesh of orcs, years before. I was not too young to watch my family die while I stood and fought to live, though I wished to join them. Too young to lead a scattered people, I was not.

I was not too young to love him.

“You foolish Elf,” were the sole words I had, and taking him by the collar of his tunic, I kissed him again—this time deeper and longer, and though he stiffened at first, to my great relief I soon felt him relent.

Then his arms were around my waist, and I had little chance to breathe for his mouth on mine. A scent of wild dark forests, the warmth of a roaring fire on the coldest of nights. From that hour I would know it anywhere, in any Age of the world.

“This is a war of your making, Chieftain,” he whispered with a crushed smile when we, at last, broke apart, his chin resting on the crown of my head, his hands burning on my back, bringing me closer.

Little did I know how much truth his words held at the time.

The cold seeps through my garments, though I lie covered in furs. The young maid tending to me releases my icy hand, kneeling to stir the fire cracking in the low-lit chamber. Watching the flames with weary eyes, I am reminded of their duality. An eternal force of nature, both purifying and destructive in its power. It will not be much longer now. I feel my body readying itself for rest at last. And though my spirit writhes, twisting against the void torn long ago, I am ready. I will receive the gift with all the grace I have left, and hold this fear I feel shackled to its worldly bonds. Beyond the Circles there is no place for it and my sole hope and wish, were I to be granted one, is that my father and brother await me there.

And then I wonder if they will. Will I even remember the being I’d been, bound in flesh? Will my memories follow me past the Doors of Night? Will I yet know of him?

Even in what I feel to be my last hours, I dwell on it all. And again I feel guilt, for I will be free, and he will linger through long Ages as fate deems fit. How I wish that I could speak the words, so he could hear them one last time.

As the pains lengthen, I focus inward; recalling the winds lashing at our faces as we assessed our enemy from hidden slopes; our swords slashing into fell flesh as we fought back to back, ever watchful of each other. I will never forget the beauty of him, so deadly in his dance amid the bloody battles we faced; or the warmth in his dark eyes as we stood lying in nothing but our skin and his hand would roam, pulling my hips to him. I still recall, as if it were yesterday, the most tender touch I ever felt on me, pursuing my sighs of contentment.

“Sing for me, narwe,” he would whisper against my lips, diving into me with unrestrained longing, and despite my resentment at being led in many things, this I would allow him. In passion, he sometimes ruled and I followed, with reckless abandon and ever despairing at the thought of our coming separation. I needed him like nothing else in those days, and with every moment we spent together I felt us melt deeper into one another.

Their ways differed much from those of Men in many things, but none more so than in matters of the heart.

I often see the vision of him on our first night together splayed onto the forest floor, the Elven prince and the unlikely leader of Men, hiding from the world; his eyes full of yearning as his hands steadied my own hungry ones eagerly picking at the fastenings of his fine garb. Telling me, with gentleness and soft words that would have made his captains grimace, of what it all meant to him; how to lie with him bound him to me, and neither of us would be free of it.

“Will you consent?” he asked, with a solemnity that I then felt was ill-matched to our light and tender pursuits, and my selfishness blinded me to its true meaning.

And taken as I was, by him and all that he brought into my life, I did.

Fool that I was.

“Where?”

“We move to Estolad, as originally deemed suitable,” I spoke in answer to his curt question. My eyes looked past the wide window where a full moon glided on quiet waters. As years passed there came the time at last to fulfill my promise, and my people were eager and ready to travel with renewed hope. We were finally prepared.

He stood with his back turned to me, his hand propped against the smoldering fireplace. We met in his Helevorn home a few times in all our sparse and fragmentary times together, gone to significant lengths to not arouse suspicion in the minds of others. “No, you are not,” he muttered, his voice hoarse and low.

“I am, and we must. It is time,” I retorted, my own voice brittle as ice.

“By whose notion?” he turned to face me then, and I was dismayed by the certainty that this would be just as difficult as I had imagined, during all those times I repeated the words in my solitude.

“Mine.” I held my head high, kept the waver in my voice at bay.

His eyes on me were molten. “You cannot.” And he drew nigh, close enough for me to feel the tremor of him before he went completely still, his gaze set beyond me.

Cautiously, I placed my arms around him and pursued a one-sided embrace. “You know of duty more than anyone. I, too, have one yet to fulfill to my people,” I spoke into him, even as I felt him tense.

He sharply drew back as if I’d struck him, and his eyes were terrible when met with mine. “Damn your people, and curse your Orcish stubbornness,” he seethed between his teeth, the pale skin of his neck flushing a reddish hue from the fire of his ire.

Then he must have seen my widened eyes and the nervous quiver of my limbs, for he quietened and lowered his head. Still, with his gaze set downward he stood until I finally found the strength to approach him again.

I wished yet again, as every time in his presence lately, that my chest were hollow.

“Duty,” he spat, as if the word caused the most grievous offense. “I offered you your choice of freedom, lands to dwell in, protection. I offer you myself. But you, in your crass compulsion to never be subdued, insist on this foolishness,” he spoke sadly. “Why, Haleth?”

He was not being unreasonable. This was all we could ever hope for. But I knew, that I loved him more than I did my own people, which both frightened and deeply shamed me. It felt like a betrayal of the silent promise I made to my father and the trust placed in me by my brother.

We must hold.

“Carnistir,” I hedged softly, using the name I knew he preferred. My hand lightly caressed his set jaw. “I cannot. It means abandoning what my family has perished fighting for.” This, I hoped, he of all beings would understand. Was he not bound by a similar oath, after all?

His sharp eyes remained averted from mine. “A life of nothing awaits your people in the wilds of the West.”

I forgave him that, for I knew how much I was hurting him.

“But time among your kind has taught me,” he continued tiredly, “that despite your fleeting days Men always choose unlikely tales of what may be over wisdom.” His words, though bitter, held a distinct quality then—that of fated foresight, which only the Eldar seemed to possess.

“I cannot stay,” I choked, and my walls crumbled before his pain. “I cannot be a wife to you,” I finally braved, as gently as his words allowed me to be.

“But you are my wife!” he spat, and his gaze broke my barely held composure. “Or have you forgotten?” He slowly stepped closer, and I had little choice but to falter and retreat, and he was ever-advancing until my heels struck the wooden side of his bed.

And though I knew this would change nothing, with a sigh of despair I reached for him, and he yielded as we fell against his dark sheets; fire, burning against my face, my chest, my hips.

He repeated his question, though any pretense of response was long abandoned and his lips soon spoke in different ways, his hands touching me in places he knew left me raw with need; and of course, he knew I would never forget.

He took me fast and harsh well into the night allowing no reprieve, his hand fisted in my hair, his mouth barely allowing mine a drawing breath. And I clung to him as if my life was forfeit, joining this blissful revenge until we were both slippery and breathless and worn with longing.

“Please…” he pleaded, his lips searing kisses into my skin, and I held him tighter. To this day, I feel him. That was the first and only time I ever heard one of the Eldar beg subdued by misery, and it was sobering to see that in pain, they were more like us than we knew.

“We are one,” he said muffled against my chest, his voice hitched with fear of loss. He shook my body against him. “Haleth, please…”

Come dawn, I left.

When the morrow of our departure came, his face betrayed nothing but the aloof manner of the Elf-lord all knew. But I saw, somehow beyond my power of comprehension, that the light in his distant eyes was dimmed as the crowd gathered. And he was stone when we said our customary farewells, thanking him on behalf of my people for all he had done, while he wished me safe travels and to reach our intended goal.

And then, too late, I understood his meaning on our last night together. We are one.

He saw the change in me, but I’d already made my choice. Even so, his gaze was stern, his face as blank as it had been on our first encounter, all those years past. In the crisp morning wind, I briefly turned to the waiting crowd.

Then looking back at him with glistening eyes, I inclined my head in swift farewell, striving to keep my heart from ruling, and left. I never saw him again.

Night after night, for many good years to come, I was pained by the hollow created of my own choosing and heard his whispers in my ear. And even now, as I lose myself in the dying embers of the fire, my body draining of life and shedding its earthly ties, I still do.

Haleth, please...

#˚◞❀˳ 𝒈𝒍𝒐𝒔𝒔 ﹕ lovelies 🩷 ꒱ ₊˚⊹

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edensrose · 12 days ago

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First Snow

Fandom: Castlevania Series (2017-2021)

Rating: G

Relationship: Alucard/Greta of Danesti

Characters: Alucard, Greta of Danesti

Count: 2.1k

Also on AO3

Additional Tags: First Kiss, Snowball Fight, Winter, Inspired by Castlevania, Post-Castlevania Season IV, Fluff without Plot, Pining, Greta POV

Summary: Published in 2021, from a time with winter #gretacard feels.

Wallachia, winter of 1476

Early December saw their first sweep of abundant snow as a sudden, restless winter took over the lands, but work and commotion never ceased. Greta walked among the people bundled in their fleece caps and winter coats, heading to and fro, milling about paths battered by frequent use. Thick smoke billowed in the air from newly built chimneys, and there were small fires started here and there, where spicy mulled wine frothed in dark cauldrons for all to share.

The winter holidays would soon be upon them, and the headwoman of Belmont looked gladly on their efforts, which yielded an already habitable location months after moving here and starting their lives anew. The fresh snow fallen in the night now clung like soft fluff to her leather boots, and her breath came misted white in the cold. She walked bundled in her own beige fleece coat, her hair braided back from her face and a green woollen cap pulled over her ears for added protection.

She sought left and right, searching for him — as she often did lately, it seemed. But, as with many other occasions, Alucard was the one who knew the details needed to help them move forward with another current predicament, namely designating which extra chambers they could convert to house some families whose dwellings were still unfinished. He repeatedly said his home was theirs, but she always asked. No one had ever given them so much, freely, without expecting a manner of recompense. It had always been so, from the monster hunters her people were forced to hire in times past to the communal authorities that never gave a damn about Danesti, a wide spot in the road to them where wandering people settled like driftwood.

Besides, Greta didn’t grudge the extra time spent in his presence, even for necessity’s sake. Some time had passed, and like those frightful bloodied nights spent reaching his castle, she’d seen Alucard change with the last, painful visions of his parents, the return of his friends, the deepening of their relationship. They were everything to him, and he had no blood relatives left to speak of. It was a particularity Greta shared, and one that made her see beyond his calm demeanor that grey, lingering sadness. It was in his smile, his eyes. She doubted it would fade for a while yet, but, as had been her thought at the beginning, Alucard did get used to them all being here. He thrived among them with every new spark in his eyes whenever a problem to solve presented itself, and Greta had learned he liked to be of use to others, to share, to create. It burned through his melancholy like embers through spider silk as they built fresh memories together, whether it was baby Simon hugging him and nibbling at his hair or the children asking to be flown around, or learning to make good polenta from the elder women. Greta smiled, and wondered again how much time had passed since her words to him that neither had ever acted upon.

I think I might like you.

She shook free of that admission, his wavering smile, the feel of his warm fingers on her skin. It was easy to brush it off as ephemeral attraction and craving spanning from a loneliness that had clambered over her heart and dug itself beneath her breast bones, and would not budge. Alucard had seen enough emotional turmoil that she wouldn’t, couldn’t, push for her own possibly one-sided needs and risk hurting him — and herself — in the process.

A sharp wind roiled across the skies, disturbing the clinging snow from the branches. It fell in ice sprinkles over her cap, dusted her shoulders. Her smile returned. It had been long since they had a peaceful winter.

It was a crisp day, and a pale sun was setting early beyond the frost-laced forest bordering the village, through limbs of bare oaks and heavy dark evergreens, setting the sky a cool blaze of blue, purple, and orange. Plunging her mittened hands into her pockets, Greta hurried to keep warm, and soon the unmistakable bubble of children’s laughter reached her.

She found them all at the base of a risen mound, watching as others barrelled downward from the hilltop on wooden sleighs. And there was Alucard.

He stood tall, arms crossed at his chest, a smile warming his pallid face. He was wrapped in his long black coat, his head uncovered, appearing completely unbothered by the chill. Greta raised an eyebrow at that — how he didn’t freeze to death was beyond her. The cool red sun shimmered on his golden hair, and he seemed a youthful ghost against the gleaming mass of white surrounding them.

That same yearning reared its needy head, and she smothered it down, instead relishing the way Alucard’s smile grew as the children’s laughter soared to the heavens. She then remembered he’d promised to build them all sleighs to ride out when the snows hit. And apparently, he kept his word. Now the woman understood the spark of glee in his eyes. Anda and Raul rushed off their new, polished wooden sleighs after they bound down the hill, giving Alucard a quick hug before rushing back to their games with the others. Soon they forgot all about the adult in their midst, busy with their own winter competition.

Alucard slowly turned on his heel, still smiling and shaking his head at their yelps and joyful cries and words of gratitude, a gloved hand waving the group goodbye. He looked so fresh, as fresh as the damn snow and something, something impish and sneaky brimmed at the back of her mind.

It must be the season, she thought; the relief, the throwback to similar times from the lanes of her own memories.

Whatever the reason…

Who cares?

Alucard hadn’t seen her yet, though he was striding back towards the same path, and Greta took the chance to hide behind the nearest tree. She knelt, slowly, and rolled a generous snowball in her hands. She straightened, hiding as Alucard neared, whistling — whistling! that was new — some old drinking song one elder taught him two nights before. She waited, and waited, until he was closer… closer still…

Alucard walked past the tree, and Greta rounded the trunk, snowball firmly in hand. Nearly there.

She aimed. Smiled; and struck.

Swiftly she hid behind her tree again, peering ahead and nearly bursting in laughter at the utterly confused and aghast look on his face as Alucard looked left and right, one hand still in his hair, clearing away the snow caught in his rich unbound strands.

If anything, she still had good aim, and as expected, Alucard turned, gazing suspiciously around the area.

Giggling heartily now, Greta crouched down and rolled another ball of snow between her hands, faster now, about to rise and deploy another projectile—

“I see someone’s… busy.”

Greta stood and turned so fast her head spun, and before she could think, hurled her snowball, hitting Alucard straight in that perfect face.

She was still cackling for some reason, of course he would have sensed another presence with his damn abilities and of course he’d beamed right behind her, like the smart aleck that he was.

Greta jumped back, laughing openly at his rapid blinking, at the frown slowly creasing his forehead. She was hyperventilating, and before she knew it, her legs were struggling away from him and she was grabbing another handful of snow, which ended up as a white splatter over his chest.

He’d still not moved, and Greta stopped some distance away, panting and smiling, watching the corners of his lips quirk upward; watching him lean down, his wolf-like gaze following her movements as he gathered snow and piled it between his gloved hands.

The first snowball missed her, and she yelped in shocked triumph. Greta stumbled back, turned and fled as another ball struck a tree to her left, dotting her cheek with icy sprinkles.

She ran again, and he was thankfully not using his powers, but good God his legs were longer than hers and soon a grip was on her arm, a hefty amount of snow in his other hand “Hah!” came an exultant hiss. “Got you—“

“Not a chanc— “ She stumbled on a rock hidden in the snow just as they were reaching the downward slope of a hill, and then she was crying out, and somehow they were both rolling down as the world turned and snow entered her mouth, her eyes, gushed beneath the collar of her coat. The downhill tumble was fast and confusing, and Greta moaned faintly, shaking her head as finally, everything stilled.

She was splayed over something hard, warm and tense.

Alucard.

Hair was in her mouth, and she raised her head, shaking the snow out of her vision. She sought leverage and rose, supporting herself on her arms.

Greta met his eyes. Those aureate beams that melted her knees, exposed her, sought through every nook and cranny of her soul. She concluded it was a good thing she was seated (in a manner of speaking). Her cap lay somewhere ahead of them, buried in snow.

Alucard was silent, his chest heaving up and down, watching her curiously as a deep red flush tinted his cheeks. Tiny snowflakes caught in his long, black lashes. He was trapped beneath her, his warm breath melting the ice on her lips.

She should move.

Shouldn’t she?

“Are you all right?”

His voice, usually soft and deep as an endless night, was hoarse, cautious.

“Yes,” Greta rasped. Well, she hadn’t expected this.

Her thighs were grasping either side of his hips as she straddled him, and it took an effort to soften her body, making to move; a gloved hand was on her hip, pressing down. Greta blinked, her eyes trailing to the uneasy quiver of his lips, regretting it promptly the moment she caught his gaze. Her chest seized.

He knew.

“What is supposed to happen now?” Alucard asked, his words barely above a whisper. Like he was asking her; actually asking her.

“Nothing,” Greta said, though the word felt like grinding sand in her mouth. She didn’t know what came over her, should never have started this. “Nothing happens now. I was searching for you, I had a question on…” she paused. “Let’s get back.” Get back… to what? To secretive glances when she thought no one was watching? To short, awkward moments of silence, where neither seemed to find the words or the will? Greta made to rise when his other hand pressed down on her other side, effectively keeping her pinned atop him.

“Greta.“

“No,” she shook her head, though the longer they sat like that, the more her body was melting against him like snow on warm skin. “No, we don’t have to… you...” His hand was on her shoulder, flowing to cup the back of her head, hedging her lower, down to him. “I didn’t mean for this... I…”

She didn’t resist, but she should try. Maybe he actually didn’t know what he was doing, and less so what he was doing to her. “We shouldn’t,” Greta mumbled, eyes closing as their foreheads touched. Warm. She shuddered.

Or was that him?

She dared not move as silence fell again.

“Is that your wish?” Alucard asked, very slowly. His eyes were mere slits of gold, the fall of his hair a halo around him in the snow. “Or you think it mine?”

He felt so good beneath her, his other arm bound around her waist, holding her closer still. She felt the press of his fingers keenly even through her layers, and he smelled so good up close, he felt… oh God.

Oh God.

“I don’t know what to think anymore,” Greta shivered as his fingers stroked circles at her nape. Well, all cards were on the table, as it were. She rose a little to see him properly.

What she saw left her raw on the inside, burning on the outside. She plunged her hands into his hair, brought her face closer, impossibly closer to his. Their noses bumped together — his was cold, so cold, and Greta could only smile, swallowing once before tilting her head just so...

She gave in. Gave more, gave everything, all the loneliness and entire months’ worth of pent-up want, gasping when Alucard met her just as recklessly, and she couldn’t move, he wouldn’t let go, deepening everything she offered, hungrily, messily and with abandon.

His lips were hot and soft, his mouth so welcoming, then seeking hers, so tender she wanted to weep. Her last coherent thought before the world melted away was how well his body fit hers, like…

Like she belonged. Like home.

More of my work is on AO3 [many stories not on tumblr]

BLOG MASTERPOST (all you need to know)

Likes/comments/reblogs always and forever appreciated

#˚◞❀˳ 𝒈𝒍𝒐𝒔𝒔 ﹕ lovelies 🩷 ꒱ ₊˚⊹#EVERYONE PUT THE NOTES IN THE BAG 🔫

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edensrose · 12 days ago

Text

Title: Scarlet Heavens

Fandom: Castlevania series (2017-2021)

Rating: Explicit 🔞

Relationship: Alucard/Trevor Belmont

Characters: Alucard, Trevor Belmont

Tags & Warnings: Emotional Sex, Oral Sex, Confessions, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bathroom Sex, Romantic Angst, No Really The Angst is Through the Roof, So is the Smut, Explicit Language, Arguing, POV Trevor Belmont, Trevorcard

Also on AO3

Summary:

An outing gone wrong, angst, feels (so many feels) and pwp (so much pwp). Another #trevorcard fic. AU. Heed the tags.

They can’t shut up about these two your honor

Trevor curses again as they trudge through the entrance hall of the castle, the hunter a few steps behind, staring at the rigid set of Alucard’s shoulders. They’d not spoken a word to each other the entire way back, Trevor busy stewing in his own regret, but not enough to not notice the haggard look on Alucard’s face and the repeated gnashing of his teeth.

This was—... not good.

They expected stray monsters and creatures and every other fucking thing to make an appearance and remind them why the world is shit, considered the need to be vigilant of their surroundings. Dracula no longer rules the Night, but they never expected an entire pack of Wolfmen to have made their freaking nest in the woods East of the Belmont estate.

And, to make it all better, Alucard did not have his sword on him, and Trevor only had his throwing knives for defense — which he used with utmost efficiency, thank you very much. Even so, it had been Alucard taking the brunt of the attacks and the slashes and the bites, easing Trevor’s fast attempts at killing blows and there were so fucking many of the damn things.

They’re still standing, though, which is a genuine miracle if Trevor Belmont’s ever known one. Their steps are way too loud to his ears, the silence fallen between them sepulchral and cold.

The verdict: they’d been careless today and therefore supremely stupid, gawking and mooning and throwing sweet-edged barbs at each other as they sought a pond to fish, one Trevor remembered from his childhood wanderings through the area close to his family grounds.

Sypha would kill them herself, if she knew, and they’d deserve it; good thing then, she’s still away on the yearly assembly of Speaker trains convening from across the land. Trevor can’t help but feel that if she’d been with them, all would not have gone so awry today. At least this way, she was spared of the worrying, the fear and the wrath when learning of it or when seeing Alucard’s still-healing injuries. Trevor stares daggers into his back, his own relief fueling a desperation borne of a fear foreign to him for many years until he’s fallen over for these people: the what-if. What if something had happened to Alucard? Yes, he’s immortal and yes, he’s strong enough to take on countless enemies at a time, but everyone and everything with breath and lungs and a heart has a breaking point; it’s just the variables that differ. The question is on repeat in his head along with the image of them back to back, surrounded by talons and poisoned jaws and glowing eyes.

The night is still, a voiceless watcher over the immense slumbering structure as they walk ahead, ascending a flight of stairs, and another, and another.

Alucard’s icy silence is pounding on Trevor’s nerves with the force of a battle axe crushing skulls but he’s too tired, too worn to start a fight that would lead them nowhere and solve nothing. He’s content to hound Alucard’s steps for the time being, following him into the chamber they share and bolting the door.

Alucard doesn’t look at him but sheds all his layers of clothing with fast, jerked movements, then pads over into the adjoined bathroom.

Trevor looks himself over. His tunic is torn, stained with blood — none of it his own, thankfully — his boots are splattered with slime and when he turns his head to gaze into a mirror set on the far wall, he sees his face and hair are in the same state. Not to mention the stench. Yeah, he can’t crawl into bed like this. A bath sounds like a good idea about now, and after a few beats of hesitation, he follows Alucard.

It’s an odd chamber as far as Trevor’s concerned, circular, with tall windows offering a generous view of the land during daytime, but now, the night is black and pressing beyond them. There are no artificial light fixtures here, as in other parts of the castle, but the thick candles trapped in the wall sconces have been lit, and their amber-gold flare diffuses through the chamber.

A large, round drop-in bath is built into the floor, set in the middle of the room, made of marble streaked with reds and yellows that wind across its smooth surface like shattered veins. Alucard’s already inside and water spurts from two faucets, gurgling up to his waist. He’s staring ahead, into nothingness, which always makes Trevor uneasy as it reminds him of times past when his grief had gotten the best of him and Trevor with Sypha struggled to reach him. The hunter undresses, wincing at the stiffness in his own body after their unforeseen session of monster picnic-killing. When he’s peeled off the last of his underthings, he steps inside the bath.

The water flows between hot and scalding the way Alucard tends to run it, but it’s bearable. Trevor reaches for the soap and they each wash themselves, sullen and quiet, candlelight playing off their bodies. Trevor rubs vigorously at his skin then submerges briefly to wash his hair, as busying himself with this means he doesn’t have to focus on the silence wedged between them. When done, Alucard pulls on a stopper and Trevor stares as the filth drains away, then the faucets are turned on again. They each rest with their back against the edge opposite each other, watching as hot, clean water refills the tub.

Alucard exhales a deep sigh, head falling back, eyes shut. His hair is plastered to his temples, neck, and shoulders and Trevor stares, because what the fuck else can he do, and not even this crammed quietus can erase the surge of everything rushing through him at the sight.

The deeper wounds from hours ago have healed, not a mark left on his pale skin. Trevor stares until the water swishes around their shoulders, and Alucard sits there like an unfortunate god turned to stone by treacherous spells. He’s so still that to Trevor it looks, for all intents and purposes, as if he’s dead.

He shivers despite the steaming water. A heaviness settles in his gut, and with it comes clarity, the kind you get after nearly losing someone you hold dear to something vile and out of your control. The powerlessness of it. He just wants… he doesn’t know what he wants, exactly, only to hear Alucard, to look into his eyes and listen to his breathing, to feel his presence or just any form of acknowledgement that cements the fact that he’s here, they’re both alive and unscathed. Fine, it seems he’ll have to be that guy. “That’s it, then?” Trevor asks, keeping his voice level, though he can’t swallow its bite. “You’ll sit there like the pompous prick that you are and not talk to me for… what? The rest of the evening? Week? Until Sypha returns? Ever?”

It’s like Alucard hasn’t heard a damn word; he doesn’t even move, no muscle so much as twitches on his face and Trevor would throttle him for it, if he weren’t so damn desperate to get him back, whatever that means. His own mood is all over the place, like a conspiracy of ravens with iron beaks joyfully rip at his ribcage and gorge on the seep of his selfish, idiotic feelings.

As the silence continues to bear down with stark fists, Trevor considers leaving — maybe Alucard just needs some space now and that’s his right, of course, of course. The hunter runs a hand through his hair, making to rise from the bath.

“What would I have done if I’d lost you today?”

Trevor pauses mid-rise. It’s sudden enough as far as questions go, doesn’t appear to be rhetorical; it stumps him. “Er.”

Alucard opens his eyes, staring at the ceiling. “If I had to look down upon your lifeless body? If I had to carry you back and bury you and tell Sypha you were eviscerated by stray monsters the three of us could raze to the ground together in moments? When I told her it was our own fault, when she’d learn I failed you.” He blinks slowly and shifts in the water, finally looking at Trevor.

“What would I have done?”

It’s calmly uttered, this nonsense, but not tender, not worried or fearful; it’s close to seething, his jaw clenched after each word; it’s angry, and a part of Trevor wants to kill him while the other part just… just wants, because yes, what if. What if, what if, what if.

“Are you seriously going to take blame for a mistake we both made?” is all Trevor can muster. Unbelievable. He huffs, shakes his head. A wintry smile pulls at his lips despite himself. “What if it were the other way around? Considered that for a moment, you twat?” He does rise then, and only notices he’s drifted too close when his knees touch Alucard’s legs in the water. Staring into those unnerving eyes, Trevor suddenly wants to feel and grip and hold on to him so badly, but there’s also half a worrying chance he might strangle the bastard which would render their earlier efforts null.

“You didn’t answer me,” the twat follows with that same infuriating composure, staring at Trevor with hooded eyes. His fingers jerk against the marble edge.

“Neither did you.” Trevor reaches and grasps Alucard’s shoulder. He knows he’s out of line, but he’s beyond caring. The composure breaks so visibly Trevor frowns in confusion, taking in the slew of pain and misery in Alucard’s stare as he rakes it over Trevor. “Are we going to do this now?” he asks, his voice softening. “The fuckery of arguing and me trying to convince you that you’re not here to be our caretaker, not the protector of the toady humans who shacked up in your castle—argh!” He gasps as Alucard’s fingers are suddenly at the back of his head and he’s pulled in, having to prop his hands on Alucard’s shoulders.

“Is that what you think you are to me?”

“Let. Go,” Trevor hisses but there was something dangerously close to heartbreak in Alucard’s voice, his breath harsh against Trevor’s cheek and the hunter lets himself fall forward, lets the arm winding around him to bring him closer until he’s all but straddling Alucard’s lap, until they’re pressed up to each other and he’s not clear on what’s happening, but Alucard’s underlying tendency to protect and control and own resurfaces after the direst of moments — something to do with the immortal side of his heritage, no doubt, though he keeps it in check well enough. His kindness and gentleness are just as much a part of his nature, and the duality of it never daunted Trevor, nor Sypha; they took it in stride, took Alucard as he is and would not change a damn thing about him; nor should anyone ever try. “I… no. Look, I was... scared, yeah? I was terrified out of my mind I’d lose you out there, same as you, and I’m so fucking relieved we did it, that we lived through another shitstorm.” He falls silent, sighing as Alucard hedges their foreheads together.

“So am I,” comes the quiet admission, and Trevor’s thighs press around Alucard’s hips when the hold around his waist tightens.

They sit like that, in the pouring light from the candles, until the water goes lukewarm, until they’re breathing steadily together, hugged close and it has Trevor consider life and death and the never-ending cycle of it, the certainty that he and Sypha will croak one day, sooner or later, inevitably leaving Alucard alone and the mere thought of it is so crushing he wants to punch something; wants to burst through the sky and beat whoever’s up there to a pulp, to return with his hands full of stardust and lay them at Alucard’s feet. He’s moving as though guided by something beyond himself, pushing against Alucard, nosing at him and then he’s kissing him and desperately groping and pawing at him. “Let go,” he repeats softly and Alucard does, just so Trevor can move and they both fumble against the other and their wet skin until Alucard’s sitting on the edge of the bath, with Trevor kissing down his throat, his chest, hands propped on Alucard’s thighs as he kneels down between his legs in the water.

Trevor hugs his waist and buries his face there, breathing him in. His hands roam over hard thighs, and Alucard leans back resting on his arms, watching Trevor with a stare that’s equal parts lost and famished. His chest heaves up and down and his lips are parted, as when he craves Trevor and Sypha’s touch; the hunter stares at the jut of his cock, already hardening against his abdomen. Still running his hands over Alucard’s body he delves lower, nipping at the skin on either side of his erection in a light attempt at teasing, his cheek pressing against the shaft before he turns his head, and runs the tip of his tongue over the crown; Alucard huffs a strangled breath. His entire body seizes though he keeps still, and Trevor hasn’t done this often but now that first taste does something to him and all he wants is more of Alucard, wants to forget they nearly died today and how his own mortality dooms him, that he’ll live on as a memory in Alucard’s mind long after he and Sypha are ashes and fuck it, fuck it, fuck it.

“Trevor… are you… you don’t have to—” his words all but catch in his throat when Trevor sucks the head into his mouth, tongue tracing the flare of it, circling around the hot, silky flesh with all the tenderness he’s capable of. Finally something they can both control, and he looks up to see Alucard staring at him; brows pinched together, fair hair clinging to his skin, fangs sharp in his mouth. His gaze smolders behind those stupidly long lashes and Trevor doesn’t break eye contact as he takes him deeper past his lips, his own desire become evident when he feels Alucard’s dick still swelling in his mouth. Trevor relaxes his jaw, licks along the shaft as Alucard’s fingers alight on his shoulders, kneading at them, fine hands drifting to his neck, lingering, threading through his hair as Trevor works to build a rhythm.

His head bobs slowly at first but then he sucks faster, messier, thinking back to how this should feel, tracing his tongue along every vein before he swirls it around the crown again. He's regaled with a choked groan so he keeps at it, arms hugging Alucard’s waist and his spit coating Alucard’s cock, and he doesn’t have levity enough to do anything about the sudden painful grip on his hair; or about Alucard slowly arching his hips forward until he slides down Trevor’s throat to the hilt. Trevor doesn’t gag — a feat — and despite the freshness of his skin, he still tastes distinctly Alucard, with the faint musk and the unique sweetness Trevor loves about his scent. They stay so for a moment, and Trevor tries to continue because he wants to, he wants to see Alucard splayed here drunk with pleasure and to know he was the cause, and Trevor wants to forget about his own awful considerations from earlier in favor of mind-numbing relief. The grip eases on him finally and he sucks in earnest, lapping and licking along the shaft until Alucard’s thighs tense and close around his ribs.

“Enough,” he gasps. “Come here, come here.”

It’s times like these Trevor’s forced to remember how strong Alucard is, when he’s being lifted and braced and held against his chest, forcing him to wrap his legs around the bastard’s waist as he carries them out of the bath and into the bedroom.

There goes Trevor Belmont, held up and carried daintily by the dhampir, his hard, dripping cock pressed snug against Alucard’s abdomen. Alucard kneels on the bed with Trevor still clung to him, body sinking over the hunter’s and kissing him with feverish little nips and snarls in between their breaths. Their dicks rub together as Alucard’s hips grind against his, and Trevor could die like this, with Alucard pressing him into the bed and fucking himself on his body. His hands reach to feel up and down Alucard's back and the muscles sleeking beneath his touch until he can't take it anymore and strongly grasps his ass, fingers digging in and his hips tilt upward to feel everything, the weight of him and hardness of him even as Alucard locks arms around his neck and ruts against him, slowly and with intent.

“Oh yes, that,” Trevor rasps with some difficulty, and beyond himself he kneads at Alucard’s flesh, a finger sliding to feel and circle his hole. His dick gives a twitch at the feel and texture as Alucard licks into his mouth and languidly curls his tongue around Trevor's, moaning deep in his throat.

“... can I?” Trevor whispers, stupidly. It’s a theme with him tonight.

“Hell, Trevor,” Alucard groans, narrow hips swaying left and right, cock slippery and sticky against Trevor’s. “What do you think?”

“Hey, I’m just asking, all right?” Trevor bites on his lip, smiles, “I know I don’t like surprise fingersex, thanks.” He reaches and gropes at the nightstand by the bed where he remembers they left the bottle with oil.

“Ohgod, now, hunter,” Alucard snarls, breathless, “before I change my mind,” he bites Trevor back with the slightest nip of fang and with that Trevor goes for it, swiftly biting the lid off and pouring some of the liquid onto his fingers then carefully opens him up, finger moving in and out as they kiss and soon Alucard’s head falls against his shoulder, eyes closed in trust and abandon. He’s growling into his skin as Trevor moves, finger curling inside until Alucard shudders atop him, until he moans outright when Trevor slowly inserts another finger, then another and with his other hand still grasping Alucard’s ass, leads their bodies in a slow sway. They do this for some time until Alucard unwinds and relaxes completely, and it feels good, feels good until it’s not enough, until with a last tug on Trevor’s lip Alucard sits up, knees braced on either side of his hips as he spits on Trevor’s cock and pours more oil on it, then guides him at his entrance.

Their gazes locked, Alucard takes him slowly, inch by inch and Trevor’s eyes roll back when the hot tightness hugs him and he keeps slipping deeper, deeper, deeper.

His hands settle on Alucard’s waist but he lies there prone, watching his lover take him at his own pace, watching his frown and the way his cock jerks and drips, feeling the soft weight of his balls when Alucard finally sits atop him.

It’s only then Trevor moves. Slow, slow, gentle, his hands gripping Alucard tighter. “Adrian... my-fucking-God Adrian...”

Alucard’s mouth is slack, and he’s breathtaking like this as he falls forward on his elbows, moaning against Trevor’s lips, pressing down to meet each upward thrust, caressing Trevor’s sweaty temple with a fondness that will make his heart explode long before his dick might.

“I can’t lose you,” he says, breath shivering. “Not like this. I would AH—” that was a deeper thrust, leaving them both shaking and breathless, “I would not survive it.”

“Save it for later,” Trevor sighs, and keeps fucking into him.

Alucard straightens again and rides him, hard and fast and merciless now, and Trevor’s head tips back, eyes pressed shut and fingers painfully digging in Alucard’s hips, and they’re both groaning wantonly soon enough as Trevor opens his eyes to admire the sight some more, the way Alucard drags himself onto him and the way he looks with pleasure flitting across his stern features, the flush on his face and the need in his eyes, a hand propped on Trevor’s knee and another reaching to pull at his own jutting cock.

“No,” Trevor reaches and grabs at his wrist, pulls it away, doesn’t let go. “Come on my cock,” he thrusts upward faster, and it’s so tight and hot and fine inside, “Just on my cock,” the bed creaks with his movement, but neither of them hear it, lost and frantic and Trevor’s hips are out of control as Alucard throws his head back and cries out, hot cum spilling all over Trevor’s working muscles and he tightens around Trevor so suddenly the dam of all his pent up need and fear shatters along with him, with the swift pooling bliss and it takes him a few more snaps of hip, before it all surges into endless riptides and his sight blurs as he rises and hugs Alucard close, flexing and moaning and coming inside him.

They’re chest to chest, Alucard’s legs wrapping around him, ankles locked; Trevor pants against his lips, grunts as his cock gives a few more satisfied twitches. He takes Alucard’s mouth again and they fall down tangled together kissing slowly, caressing softening muscles and sweaty, warm skin.

Alucard rolls on his back when they’ve settled and regained their breathing and Trevor crawls up to him, his face against Alucard’s heart, idly playing with a wet strand of golden hair. They bask in a different silence, one far removed from the stifled, heavy stillness weighing on them before.

“I wouldn’t survive it, either,” Trevor says after a time, his ear pressed to a heartbeat.

Alucard’s hand caresses up and down his spine as he turns, lazily folding himself into Trevor. “Neither of us will have to try.”

“No,” murmurs Trevor. Not for a good while yet, one would hope. “No,” he repeats with conviction. They’ll make certain of it.

#˚◞❀˳ 𝒈𝒍𝒐𝒔𝒔 ﹕ lovelies 🩷 ꒱ ₊˚⊹#castlevania

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