#🗡️: daggers and all

[baldurs-kinfessions]

the new ask game 👁️👁️

-my fangs kept growing and i had to file them down

-i hadn’t lied about being a magistrate, that was real

-i had my eyes on wyll before coming across and remembering who my wife was

#🦇🩸🗡️

[only-mildly-evil]

just in case anyone was still unconvinced that the government is a joke all the way down to the municipal level today i watched a city council commend the trash pickup initiative for negotiating to create an "alternate plan c" where they only got $750 000 to clean up trash and other debris in public spaces and as such would not be able to meet their original goal of regular trash pickup, and then about an hour later vote 10-6 to give more money to the police immediately instead of holding off on giving more money so they could potentially negotiate things like disbanding the $900 000 non-mandated mounted police unit because, and i kid you not this was their reasoning, kids love horsies

[m-oddinsdottir]

COLD STEEL

the shadowsinger and the traitor .ˊˎ 🗡️

Azriel x Fem! Reader

Words: 2,674

Warnings: takes place in acowar so it may contain SPOILERS from previous books, archeron sister reader, use of a dagger, reader is tied up, angst, betrayal, no use of y/n, mating bond, fluff, images above do not depict reader’s appearance it’s just for aesthetic and I think that’s it

Summary: When your real intentions are discovered by the Inner Circle of the Night Court, you have to face the consequences. Your mate and the cold steel of Truth Teller.

A/N: friendly reminder that english isn’t my first language so please feel free to correct me <3 this is my first one shot for acotar so of course it had to be about azriel

Masterlist

•••

Gods, how did you end up in this situation? Wrists tied behind your back and a rope that served as a muzzle inside your mouth to prevent yourself from making any sound… Any sound that could mess up with your mate's closed-up mind.

No. You knew exactly why you were there. It was all your fault and because of what? A blinding desire for revenge? Or perhaps it was childish behavior that had made you reach out to the wrong person?

But you were young. Immature. Compared to all those creatures you had sworn once in your life to hate and that now your sister considered a family. They were centuries old, you were just turned twenty-one when it happened.

Twenty-one before your mortality had been taken away from you, in front of your eyes, while you were slowly sunk inside that turbid water of what they had called "The Caldroun"... A powerful source of magic, creator of the world known and theft of yours and your sisters' mortality.

But as theft, as The Cauldron was, it was also generous. So it gifted powerful abilities that seemed to differ from others in that magical end of The Wall.

As a mortal, your impulsivity sometimes took a thick control over your logical sense. And when you were turned High Fae, that only increased. The process of adaptation was hard. You could hear, see, and feel everything. Everything you had ignored before. And the desperation of not knowing how to stop it made you act.

And the King of Hybern was the only solution.

Or so you thought, less than a year as an immortal and you had already made your biggest mistake. He promised he would help you with the emerging powers. You believed him. He swore that if you desired it, he would return your mortality. You believed him. He convinced you it was all Feyre's fault. You believed him.

And the only requirement? You would become his spy. All you had to do was watch and tell. And you stupidly agreed.

Easy job. You already hated all of them... It was their fault you had ended up being swallowed by the Cauldron and resurfaced as one of them. You just had to do as the King said, keep Nesta and Elain protected until the King would turn the three of you mortal again, and then... Then you would figure it out. It was easy, right?

It was easy knowing that you were working with the male who plotted to kill the sister who had saved you from starvation. Even easier witnessing the love they shared, the love of a family... A family bonded by the drawbacks of time and the burdens they had fought together.

Gods...

And it was even easier to betray the male who had silently been by your side, wanting to help and protect you without being invasive. His quiet and cold presence was even more reassuring than a gentle caress or a hug and before you realized, you desired to spend more time with him... Not only in silence.

When the bond snapped, it wasn't a surprise but a relief for Azriel to be able to call you his mate... On the other hand, for you, it was what changed everything.

You were trapped, being suffocated by the feeling of betrayal and consternation. And every time you slept by his side when you were in the comfort of being surrounded by him and him only, silent tears escaped your eyes.

Said eyes widened slightly when he entered the stance where you had been tied up. Azriel was silent, but not his usual comforting silence. The male that looked at you now was someone completely different from the male that held you through the nights, wings wrapped around your body to shield you from any harm.

Your eyes moved lower to his scarred hands, eyes closing tightly as you noticed that Azriel was gripping Truth Teller. The dagger's blade caught the only traces of light that filtered through the darkness of the room and your throat closed as the tears began to pool in your closed eyes, dropping down your cheeks into the muzzle.

Azriel didn't say a word as he approached you. He didn't even flinch when he saw your tears as he usually did every time you cried in front of him. No, he just moved to free you from the muzzle around your lips.

He was determined to make you talk. Your mate seemed willing to torture you until he got any valuable information out of you... Or, at least, an explanation.

Your heart ached at the thought and unconsciously your pain traveled through the bond making Azriel's breath hitch before he shook his head.

‘Azriel...’ You mumbled beggingly, your voice sounding strained with emotion. But not because of the muzzle, the rope around your wrists, or the thought of being tortured... Those were the least of your concerns as you observed the male before you.

He didn't answer. ‘Azriel, please...’ You tried again and he looked into your eyes, no emotions visible in his hazel irises. Almost as if he had shut them down. A sob escaped your lips. ‘Please, please... Just—’

Azriel interrupted you. ‘You are not going to trick me anymore.’

The coldness in his words made you fight against the ropes that were wrapped around your wrists. ‘I didn't—!’ Lie. You did trick everyone into thinking you were harmless. ‘Please, Azriel... I swear I—’

‘Were you forcefully compelled to work with Hybern?’

‘No, but—’

His firm voice interrupted you before you could try to justify yourself. ‘Did you not spy on us... On me and shared that information with Hybern?’

‘Azriel, please—’

‘Were you not condemning us to a certain death by sharing that information?’

A sob escaped your lips and you couldn't hold his gaze anymore, looking down at the ground before yelping when his scarred hands roughly held your chin and forced you to look at him. His fingers squeezing your cheeks.

‘Were you not condemning me to death?’ Azriel asked again.

‘I didn't know what else to do.’ You mumbled and then the cold steel of Truth Teller pressed against your trembling throat. Holding back the need to sob, your gaze locked with his.

‘And betraying your family and your mate was the best option?’

‘The bond hadn't snapped when I...’ Azriel pressed the blade closer to your throat but despite his threat, you noticed he was being gentle... The blade was raised upwards to prevent it from slicing your throat and even if he was gripping it tightly, the pressure against your neck was minimal.

You looked behind him and noticed how his own shadows were trying to move him away from you. The dark tendrils were trying to protect you.

‘Look. At. Me.’ He spoke coldly, fingers squeezing your cheeks again. ‘You still betrayed your sisters... And then betrayed me when you kept going.’

‘What did you expect me to do? To suddenly cut connections with Hybern? Yeah, that probably wouldn't raise suspicions, Azriel.’ You managed to mumble, a small frown of frustration over your features as you looked at him through the blur of your tear-filled eyes.

He held his breath as he analyzed you, his eyes scanning the tears that stained your cheeks and how your brows furrowed together. ‘You could have told me.’

‘And then what? The same damn situation we're dealing with now.’ His fingers around your chin squeezed tightly pulling you forward to him. His nose brushed against yours as breaths mingled together. Gods, his turmoil was so tangible that you could smell the inner fight he was struggling with.

He breathed in your scent. ‘I would have helped you... I would have understood you.’

‘Are you understanding me? Are you helping me?’

Azriel called your name in frustration before he roughly shoved your head back. Desperately needing to create some distance between you, he held your chin so that you couldn't lean in closer. ‘Don't say that as if that's not the only thing I long for. Help you, protect you, shield you.’

Hearing the desperation in his voice had you holding your breath. The guilt invades your lungs in a choking sensation instead of the so-desired oxygen. But that's what you deserved, after everything.

‘I...’ Your strained voice broke the silence as you finally looked into his eyes. ‘I just wanted my mortality back, Azriel...’ He sighed shakily before his hand holding Truth Teller moved down. ‘Everything's been so...’ Your voice broke and his other hand moved up to cup your cheek.

‘I know, I know...’ He mumbled and his eyes met you, the same warmth in which he usually held your gaze.

‘I didn't know what else to do... I was so furious with Feyre and I—... I just thought about bringing our mortality back.’ You admitted referring to your sisters before Azriel shushed you, the hand holding Truth Tuller moving down to cut the ropes that held your shoulders to the pole so that at least you could rest your weight against him. However, he kept the ropes around your wrists and legs.

When your head gently hit his shoulder resting against him, his hand moved up to cup the back of your head. Whispering sweet words to reassure you as he held you in his arms, trying to silence your tears as he brushed his lips along your temple.

‘If I could go back, I swear I'll do it... I—’ You trailed off when he began massaging your scalp bringing a sense of calm to your trembling body. ‘Ever since the bond snapped, I've been giving him confusing information. Half-lies... Or entirely nothing. I swear...’

‘I know, baby, I know.’

His words made you nuzzle your nose more against his shoulder. ‘Please, you have to believe me... Please.’

His hand over your cheek pulled you back so you could look into his hazel eyes. Gods, those irises... You could sink into them and get lost in that pool of golden brown. And you would do it willingly. They were your anchor. He was your anchor. Your strength and your liability, both at the same time.

‘I believe you.’ Azriel assured you. Then, the strength of your bond hit you so hard that it caught your breath away. The golden thread looked tangible as it swirled as a bridge between your souls and there you could feel his honesty and concern.

‘I don't know what to do.’ You confessed in a shaky whisper and he rested his forehead against yours. ‘Gods, please hate me. It's way easier than this... Hate me, Az...’ You begged him.

Azriel shook his head before his lips pressed a gentle kiss against your forehead. Rejoicing the feeling, a soft sigh escaped your lips. ‘I don't hate you. I could never hate you.’

‘You should.’

‘I don't want to,’ Azriel repeated before he gently called your name. The word rolled off his tongue with a soothing tone to it. ‘I don't hate you, baby... And neither does Feyre, nor either of the others.’

When a small sob escaped your lips, his dagger swiftly cut the rope that held your arms and wrists and you were able to wrap your arms around him in a tight embrace.

Finally.

Your torso was pressed against his, the soft flesh in your body caressing the hardness of the centuries-trained muscles over his chest and abdomen. Azriel immediately encircled your waist. He needed this. To feel you closer. To know you weren't a threat.

‘No one hates you.’ He assured you gently ‘Elain... She saw your intentions through one of her... Visions,’ Azriel's face contorted into discomfort at the thought of your younger sister having such a powerful ability that she didn't know how to control ‘She defended you and I... I wanted to see it for myself, see that you... That you at least had some regret.’

He loathed the thought of what he had planned to do before entering that room.

‘I wanted to torture you until you would give me something... Anything.’ Azriel admitted and you felt his pain and self-hatred through the bond. ‘But I... Seeing you like this, I can't— I don't...’ His grip on you tightened.

‘Azriel...’ You mumbled but he interrupted you.

‘I know you regret it.’ The Shadowsinger mumbled and his dark tendrils roamed down to free you from the rope around your legs. The minute you were free you wrapped one leg around him bringing the male closer to you. ‘Now I see it.’

You two fell into a comfortable silence. He brought you comfort and so did you to him. It was as simple as that.

‘If I hadn't felt any regret...’ You began gently only stopping for a second when the male growled. His chest vibrated roughly, so you placed one hand over the hard tattooed flesh. ‘Would you have done it? Torture me?’

The Ilyrian male froze under the weight of your question. Was that what you believed of him? Did you think he would do you any harm? The mere idea made Azriel want to go through every single torture himself.

‘No.’ He spoke firmly and his eyes met yours again when he pulled away. ‘No. Never...’ Azriel shook his head and then it seemed as if something broke inside him. ‘Never... never...’

He repeated over and over again as he slowly closed the distance between your lips. Lazily, his lips crashed against yours tasting the saltiness of your lips. ‘Never...’ He repeated over your lips. ‘Don't ever suggest it again.’ Azriel mumbled with pain.

His hand moved up to tangle around your hair as he kissed you again, this time it was messier... The male was shaking as he captured your lips with his and he gently pulled away when you choked one of your sobs against his mouth, more tears silently falling and making the kiss even messier if it was possible. A small frown adorned his face as he pulled you closer by the waist after backing away.

‘What can I do?’ You asked, voice strained and tears falling down your cheek until they would wet the dark fabric of his shirt. ‘Please, Azriel, what can I do to amend it?’

His sigh was warm against the skin of your neck and his lips pressed a gentle kiss against the sensitive skin provoking a shiver that ran down your spine. ‘Nothing. You don't need to do anything...’

‘I do.’ You insisted and he shook his head, burying his nose even more into the crook of your neck.

‘You don't.’

‘Azriel...’

‘I... Cassian may have said something earlier that could not be a terrible idea.’ Azriel mumbled against your skin before he moved backward to look into your eyes and seeing your raised brow he sighed. ‘But I don't want you to get in danger just to...’

‘Just to make it up for you? Enough reason.’ You whispered, chin tilted backward to brush your lips against his. ‘I am capable of making my own decisions, Azriel.’

His small grin widened as he answered, ‘I know that,’ when your lips pressed against his in small, gentle pecks. Yet, he couldn't help but keep talking. ‘This shouldn't be allowed… You're compelling me with your kisses.’

‘Am I now? What a shame... Poor Spymaster can't handle some kisses?’

The moment he confessed, ‘Not when they're yours,’ you couldn't help but stifle a giggle. You paused your kisses and instead nestled your nose against his, savoring the intimacy of the moment.

‘Please, Azriel... Just tell me what I can do.’

He groaned under his breath when your presence clouded his thoughts. ‘Cassian mentioned that you could gather information for us… Misinform Hybern and extract intel from him.’

Your brow raised with interest.

‘Perhaps I could teach you the art of espionage, my mate... Be one of my spies… What do you think?’ Azriel mused, his gaze penetrating as he locked his gaze with yours.

Oh, how the tables had turned on Hybern.

[felassan]

User: "I’m so torn between my precious rogues and the fact that I started DA as a mage, so nostalgia… Shadow Dragons sound so cool, so I think a mage SD? But but but rogue gameplay looks sooo good so maybe AC rogue? Yall are making my head spin with all these goodiessss" Corinne: "The Mage Spellblade specialization is rad if you want an agile frontline mage with daggers and parries. It’s kind of like a hybrid of the two. 🔮🗡️" [source] User: "You’re speaking my language! KE was my favorite one in DAI, I thought they sounded similarly awesome." Corinne: "KE was our inspiration! My fav from DAI too 😊" [source]

Some info on the Spellblade spec. :)

[djadins]

— A R G H U R Y S 🗡️ • 3

+ pairing | ser harwin strong x f!princess!reader

+ a/n | not me posting this as if i didn’t up and disappear for a year o o p s

It was getting late enough that the sun’s light no longer adequately lit the book you had been staring at. Rubbing at your eyes, you yawned and stretched out your arms. You had been out here since after morning’s end at least. Supper would have to consist of whatever you could convince the chefs in the kitchens to cook for you.

The roots at the back of the heart tree, or rather, where you joked the ass should be carved (to the Septa’s annoyance and your later punishment), had a nice dip in them that served as a hammock for your body. Add in the many pillows and blankets that had a permanent residence under the tree, and you had yourself a nice little hiding spot that you had frequented for as long as you could remember. Unless one walked all along the side of the heart tree, it was likely a passerby wouldn’t notice you.

“Ser Harwin was looking for you.”

A yelp escaped your lips, much to your sister’s delight. Her airy laugh floated amongst the trees in the Godswood.

“Seven hells Rhaenyra!”

She giggled again, sitting down next to you. You playfully pushed her arm. She feigned offense, then wrapped her arms around you and placed a delicate kiss to the top of your head.

“Ser Harrold told me he was the one who took you hunting in the Kingswood for Aegon’s nameday.” She looked at you expectantly. You shrugged in response.

“That was over a fortnight ago! You weren’t going to mention it to me,” she paused, pressing her flattened palm against her heart, “big sister, best friend, closest companion?!”

“Well you didn’t exactly talk about your night in the Kingswood with Ser Criston, bloodied and disheveled. I thought we were going to drink and leave Aegon’s nameday behind us.”

Rhaenyra gave you a knowing look. “This,” she waved her hands in a circle, “is different. You’re already blushing at the mere thought of him.”

You rolled your eyes at her. “The dramatics are over the top tonight, Rhaeny.”

“Dramatics or not,” she turned her body to face you, grabbing your forearm, “you two would make a fine match someday.”

“Match?! Rhaenyra, he’s Lord Lyonel’s oldest boy. Don’t you think a marriage proposal would be for you?”

Rhaenyra smirked. “See, that’s another thing Ser Harrold told me. When father was discussing my future matches,” she paused at the word to stick out her tongue and fake sick, “with Lord Lyonel, he joked that the Lord would advise I wed his son, Ser Harwin.”

“…And?”

“And,” she leaned in closer to you, “He disagreed. Instead, he counseled Father that he believed I should wed another.”

“Who?”

Rhaenyra slapped your arm. “It doesn’t matter who sister, point is, Lord Strong is not putting his son up for my hand. Furthermore,” she continued, while you rubbed your stinging arm, “Ser Harwin is not interested in me. As soon as we ran into each other, the first thing out of his mouth was to ask if I’d seen you.”

You rolled your eyes. “That doesn’t mean anything, Rhaenyra.”

“Is that right? Well, answer me this — whose dagger has been occupying space in your chambers? Because I know you did not convince the smiths to craft you one with the sigil of House Strong in the hilt.”

“You went in my room without me!” you pushed her.

“Sister,” she grabbed both of your shoulders, “you keep missing the point.”

“Which is?”

She lowered her voice. “That not only would the two of you make a handsome match, one that father would actually consider and if need be, we could sway him toward, but, that you could also be happy. You could wed for love. You could,” her voice cracked and she cleared it, “you could have what mother and father had.”

Tears welled at both yours and Rhaenyra’s eyes at the mention of mother. She pulled you in and hugged you tightly. “I just want you to be happy,” she whispered.

You squeezed her back and inhaled her familiar scent. “I love you, sister.”

“And I, you.” She pulled back and smoothed out your hair. “Now head to the library. With any luck, you might still find him there searching for you.”

You grabbed your book and hopped up to your feet. You began a brisk pace towards the library, the halls of the Red Keep surprisingly empty during the walk there.

You rounded the corner into the library and saw a familiar, tall, dark knight pacing the shelves in the back, looking at the various volumes on hand.

“Can I help you find what you’re looking for, Ser?”

Harwin turned on his heel, clearly a little startled by the sound of your voice. He took in your appearance as you returned the book you had been reading back to the proper shelf. The corners of your mouth were upturned into a smile.

“Princess,” he greeted.

You picked up a different book and offered it to him. Flora of the Seven Kingdoms by Maester Tollett.

“Hmm… I think I would rather have lessons from the expert than read about flowers from a Maester who’s been dead half a century.” His smile was large, his eyes bright as he looked down at you. You put the book back down on the shelf and began walking around the library, running a stray finger along the spines of the books.

“Expert, hmm?” you questioned. “I’m surprised a man of the City Watch has time for something as silly as flowers.”

Harwin walked over to you, the soft patter of his boots with every step emphasizing just how slowly he was moving. He lifted a hand to your cheek. “I make time for the things that are important to me, princess.”

You smiled up at him as he gently brushed his thumb against your cheek. “What brings you to the library?”

“Well,” he dropped his hand from your face, bringing it instead to his and rubbing the length of his stubble. “I had dinner with father and Larys. Father said I should learn what it means to be Master of Laws if that is the path I want to follow someday.”

“What about the City Watch?” you tilted your head slightly.

“Mmm, I intended to climb up the ranks, princess. However, it seems father wants me to have all my options open. Says I could make for a fine politician like him.” He shrugged his shoulders as if to indicate he didn’t believe that. “I asked for a transfer to the barracks here at the Red Keep to be closer.”

“You’ll get to patrol inside the Keep?”

He nodded. “Both inside and out now, yes.” He took a deep breath in.

“Oh Ser Harwin, that’s wonderful. You’ll get to see Lord Lyonel and Larys a lot more now.”

“Yes, princess,” he paused, reaching a hand out to brush some hair behind your ear. “My family, and others who are dear to me.”

Your cheeks grew hot. You eyes left Harwin’s and looked down at your feet. His feet stepped in closer to yours and you could feel his breath against the crown of your head. His hand gently wrapped around to the back of your head…

He jumped back like he had been burned at the sound of feet behind you. Maester Runciter had entered the library, oblivious to the princess and knight who currently occupied it. He began scattering various papers around his workspace and talking to himself.

You cleared your throat and peered up at Ser Harwin through your lashes. “Would you accompany me on a walk through the Keep? Or are you on duty tonight?”

He offered his arm out and you took it. “I am free tonight, princess.”

You waved to Maester Runciter on your way out of the library but you were pretty certain he did not hear or see either of you during his time in there. You giggled at this and Ser Harwin could be heard chuckling under his breath.

“You know, I have a book on the small council in my chambers. You’re welcome to it, Ser Harwin. Admittedly, I have been using it to press flowers.”

His laugh was more audible this time around. “Thank you princess. I will be sure to find you a heavy replacement.”

The two of you walked what felt like the length of the entire castle, talking and laughing. The evening air brought with it a cold front that had the hairs on your arm standing up tall. A shiver ran through you as the wind ripped your silver hair behind your shoulder. You let go of Ser Harwin for the first time to rub your own arms.

“Princess,” he stopped you. You turned around to face him. His gold cloak had been pulled from his own shoulders and he was holding it out to you like a blanket. You nodded and turned, letting him wrap his cloak around you.

“We should get you inside,” he murmured in your ear. You shivered again, admittedly not from the cold this time. Not wanting the night to end but knowing he was right, you reluctantly agreed. You nuzzled into the gold fabric, breathing in the woody smell of Ser Harwin as you followed alongside him.

Ser Criston had a strange look upon his face as the two of you rounded the corner towards your chambers. He nodded wordlessly to you before eyeing down Harwin. Harwin, who had also taken notice of the way your Kingsguard had been watching him, placed a firm hand at your back, rubbing up and down tenderly.

You twirled around, having reached the double doors to your chamber. “Thank you for accompanying me tonight,” you smiled up at him. Harwin simply bowed and you took this chance to stand on your tiptoes and place a soft kiss upon his cheek. When you both pulled back, Harwin’s eyes found the floor, his face flushed. Ser Cole cleared his throat.

He looked at you after a moment, dropping his voice to a whisper. “Good night, sweet flower.”

You curtsied before opening the doors behind your back and pushing yourself in. When they were closed and at your back, you brought your fingers to your lips where they still tingled from the scratchiness of Harwin’s beard. It took your full willpower not to run back outside after him.

It was then that you realized you still had his gold cloak. You fingered it lightly for a few moments before throwing it atop your bed. When you were ready to tuck yourself in, you brought the cloak underneath the covers and wrapped yourself in it.

[yiiyiiwrites]

🗡️ | Relics and Ruins | 1

[Series masterlist] [acotar masterlist] Summary: you come from a long line of healers in the dawn court, but it seemed to have skipped you completely. So you find that your mind is more equipped to read magical objects, fixing broken or cursed relics. What you don’t expect is an Illyrian warrior seeking your expertise on his favourite broken dagger. 1455words

The blade on the table rattled to a stop, whatever secrets it whispered, you did not understand the language it spoke.

A shadow lurked over the table, you glanced to the night courts high lord, Rhys opposite you, a smirk pulling his lips as his eyes flicked from you and his friend behind you.

“Are you going to stand over me whilst I work?” You raised a brow, neck aching as you twisted in your seat and looked to the Shadowsinger.

Rhys muttered an apology on behalf of his friend. Azriel stepped back from your desk, allowing the light to creep back in. You swatted one of the stray shadows still lingering, it rolled over your finger like the curl of smoke.

The small studio space you rented, barely allowed enough room for you to navigate. Tables and shelves filled with an assortment of objects still screaming at you to fix. You were sentimental when it came to the place, the first and only part of the court that was yours. Knew the layout like the back of your hand, large windows that bathed the area in light that no dark corner could be found. And you hated the dark.

You bit your lip trying to suppress the smile at the awkward Illyrian’s taking up the space. Their Highlord’s wings vanished before he entered the confined space, the other two however had tucked their wings in tightly and tried not to move too much within the organised mess.

The longhaired one, Cassian had given you some valuable information on a shield you’d given up on decades ago. You couldn’t help but mirror his smile whenever he offered you one, brows scrunching as he translated the text engraved on the metal.

The other winged male did not speak to you, he hung back clouded by shadows. Every now and then, little black wisps brushed against the tip of your short hair, a breeze ghosting over your shoulders.

But when he did finally speak, you found yourself wanting to look at him. The knot in your stomach twisting, his smooth voice called to you and it felt familiar, comforting. You wanted to hear it again.

“How long do you think it will take to mend?” Azriel leant on the desk, gloved hands supporting him as he gazed down at you. His attention solely on you, even up close he was breathtaking.

You blinked, hands fumbling over the desk as you knocked a pile of ancient tomes over. Dust settling in the air, the action kept going on like dominoes. A cannon ball hitting the mannequin of ancient armour into the hoards of Elven bows stacked up high.

Cassian tried to catch the next thing falling, but his wings flared ever so slightly as he tried to keep his balance. Forgetting about the tight space, his wings swiped the entire contents as well as the shelf off the wall. Metal clanged to the floor and he froze.

“Do not touch that,” you snapped, running to Cassian, your fast movement making him step back. “Unless you want it to haunt your dreams for the next hundred years.” You nudged the fallen contents with your boot, keeping them all together.

“We would not want that,” Rhys paused, glancing around the studio and the mess scattering what was left of the floor. “Perhaps we should allow you the time to do your work.” He flicked his wrist, the Elven bows stacking on top of one another.

You couldn’t help but gasp, it would have taken you hours to sort out the mess, but Rhys had put most of it back in its original place. Except the items you warned them not to touch, even that being extended to another persons magic.

The three men walked through the studio, you following closely behind them. Your hands hovering behind their wings as if waiting for them to knock into more things as they went.

Cassian doesn’t meet your eyes as you stand in the doorway, the three of them tense as if waiting for one of them to speak. You turn to Rhys expecting him to say something.

“We have business with your Highlord, so we will be around if you need anything,” Azriel said, bowing his head slightly. His shadows twirled in frenzy, black wisps tangling in your hair one more time.

You shook your head, trying to rid yourself of the pesky wisps.

Azriel cleared his throat, shadows returning to curl round his ear as if to tell him a secret. “How long do you think it’ll take to mend the truth-teller?”

“It will take me a while, I need to familiarise with the energy surrounding the blade.” You could already hear truth-teller beckoning you. A broken echo, the voice not quite pronouncing your name properly. But it called.

They bid you goodbye and you returned to the room of relics. The noise always a welcome distraction than listening to your own thoughts.

*🦇*

Azriel’s shadows had not stopped mumbling of the girl of sunlight. He kept swatting them away, the text he was trying to read in front him blurring at their constant interrupting.

“You think she knows?” Rhys asked, his hands in his pockets as he watched the sun bathe the sky in dusky pinks and orange hues.

The thought crossed Azriel’s mind, part of him thinking there was a moment when their eyes met, but the way she retreated from his shadows made him think otherwise.

“Nah, there’s no way. Too much energy in that room. Don’t know how she can surround herself with all those relics,” Cassian said, his fingers rubbing his temple.

Relics kept their energy and magical properties forever, outliving the ones that created them. They might not be able to wielded again, but if one was worthy enough to channel that power the object would call for whoever it could hear. Most times it was a distant mumble, only a trained ear or shadow could hear it.

“Now you know how we feel brother, when we spend too much time with you.”

Cassian pulled up the chair opposite Azriel, smirking as he got himself comfortable. “Maybe I should help her, you know familiarise that energy surrounding truth-teller. I do know some riveting tales…”

“The only thing snapping will be your neck if you meddle,” Azriel spat, he slammed his book shut as if closing anymore discussion on the mender in the dawn court.

The anger spread like wildfire in his chest, ever since the bond snapped he’d been overwhelmed with emotions. His shadows were equally as messy, not sure whether to follow him or stick behind with her. A few stray wisps fell back, hiding between the relics in her studio and keeping a safe distance.

Azriel couldn’t get her off his mind, he wondered if she’d ever been beyond her home or stepped into the darkness. He knew that his life wasn’t for everyone and didn’t want to subject someone full of so much light, to something so cold.

“Did you sense it whilst we were there?”

Cassian’s question dragged Azriel back to why they were truly there, the matter of his mate paused until they got what they were looking for. But Azriel didn’t realise that the one thing he’d be looking for was her.

“No, nothing.” Rhys turned as the doors opened, the dawn courts high lord entering.

“Well why didn’t you ask my favourite mender?” Thesan asked, but he waved his hand as if answering his own question. “She did let you in, did she not?”

“I fear that our missing relic is still under the mountain, her collection did not give us any clues,” Rhysand said glancing to Thesan, the warmth in his eyes dulled at the mention of the mountain. He too had been trapped beneath it, the last resort of returning was changing to a definite return.

“Ah,” Thesan paused, a strained smile twitched his lips. “ You see the mender is a relic herself. She too survived under the mountain and is the reason we have so much knowledge on the subject.”

Azriel felt the tight pull in his chest, so she had known darkness. He rubbed his chest, wondering if she felt the same jolt there too. His shadows being a reminder of her time there, maybe that’s why she preferred the light glaring down upon her. No curtains or furniture blocking the large windows that dominated the small studio she worked in.

“Would she be able to show us the way without actually going there?” Cassian asked. Azriel thankful that he had spoken up first. His thoughts were tangled, but they all led to her and her safety.

“You would have to ask her.”

[Part two]

I wrote this on my phone and not edited so might be some errors

[heartfeltcierra]

Reacting to you making/giving them a friendship bracelet. (Ace, Roger, Marco, Shanks, and Doflamingo)

AN- Here lately I've been making friendship bracelets and thought this would be a fun idea! I hope you enjoy and let me know if you'd like to see a part two with more characters! (Find part 2 with Zoro, Luffy, Sanji, Bart, Sabo and Law here)

Characters- Ace, Roger, Marco, Shanks, and Doflamingo.

Warnings/Content-Fluffy, Minor mentions of violence/blood, Very Suggestive/NSFW themes in Doffy and Shanks's part.

ʕ•ᴥ•ʔﾉ♡ More under the cut

Ace

🔥Ace would in utter shock, saying something like “You really made this for me???” 🥺

🔥After you confirm it is, be prepared to be pulled into the biggest most heartfelt hug you’ll ever experience in your life (He couldn't help it, he was just so happy :) 

🔥As we all know Ace can be pretty crafty, so I feel he would learn how to make them so he could give you one too!

 “Y/N! Y/N!” Ace came running up to you with his signature wide smile painted on his face.

 “Hey Ace.” You return the smile as he catches his breath. "What's up?"

 “Close your eyes and hold your hand out!” You do as Ace asked and feel something slip over your wrist. “And open!” You look down and see Ace had made you a bracelet. “And the best part.” He held his wrist up next to yours, showing off the bracelets you'd made for each other. “We match now!” 

 Totally didn’t take him 100 different times to make it because he kept accidentally setting the twine on fire. With that being said, the poor Moby Dick almost caught on fire 100 different times.

 (Thank you Marco for making sure that didn’t happen.)

🍍- You're welcome, yoi.

Roger (SFW)

🗡️-The king of the pirates absolutely lost his mind when you gave him the bracelet  

🗡️-Thinks of it as a good luck charm (he would do something corny like kissing it before going into a fight) 

🗡️-Shows it off to everyone and I mean everyone (especially enemies)

“Look at what my sweet Y/N made for me.” Roger held his wrist out to the confused pirate laying half dead at his feet.   

“Who cares, It’s just a stupid bracelet.” Stupid???? The bracelet that you worked so hard on?

 “Aww he didn’t mean that.” Roger cooes at the bracelet, causing the now even confused man below to quirk his bloody brow. 

 “Are you insane? It’s just a-“ 

 “DIVINE DEPARTURE!”

  (“Oh wow what a lovely bracelet!”-- Literally everyone who witnessed the scene above.)

♬~Smart ways to live~ ♬ ~So many smart ways to live~♬

 Marco (SFW)

🍍 When you gave Marco the bracelet you didn’t get much of a reaction because he was super busy doing paperwork

🍍 He’d pull you down for a quick kiss before saying “I love it.” without even looking at it

🍍 But he didn’t have to look at it to know he loved it, it already met the requirements because you made it. 

 “Wake up sleepy head, I need you to sign off on this.” Thatch threw a report on Marco’s desk, rudely waking up the blonde up from his much needed nap. “Nice bracelet by the way.” Marco raised a brow hearing the man holding back laughs. 

 “Yeah it is nice because Y/N made it for me.” Marco held his wrist up with a smirk, attempting to make the other man jealous.

  “Oh I know~” Thatch could no longer control his laughter as he pointed at the bracelet. “It’s pretty obvious she did.” 

 “Huh?“ Marco grabbed his glasses and took a closer look to see what had the chef doubled over in tears. “Are you serious?” His hand slams over his face after seeing what the beads on the bracelet spelled out. “I swear that girl is going to send me to an early grave.” He stood up and shoved the now signed paper into his friend's chest. “You tell no one about this." Marco glared daggers at the laughing man. "Thatch.."

  “Oh don't worry, I won’t .” Thatch smiled innocently while slowly making his escape. “Y/N’s babygirl.” 

"THATCH!"

 (Needless to say the entire Whitebeard crew knew within five minutes.)

 Shanks (NSFW)

 ❤️ He loves anything you give him, and I mean anyyything

 ❤️ You could give him a single grain of sand and he would go show it off to the whole world

 ❤️ So when you came up to him holding a bracelet that you had hand made, he was over the moon smitten.

 “Shanks hold your hand out?”

 “Which one?” 

 …..

 …..

 “That was funny and you know it was!” You roll your eyes as the red haired man starts laughing at his own joke.

 “Just hold your one and only hand out for me please and thank you.” He's all smiles as you roll on the bracelet before adjusting it to fit snug against his wrist.

 “Aww you really made this for me?” His grin grows wider while taking a closer look at it. “Um, sweetheart this is real thoughtful and all, but does it really have to say #1 DILF?” He looks up at you with a raised brow.

 “Yes it does.” You hold out your hand to show off the bracelet wrapped around your wrist. “Otherwise we won’t match.” 

 “DILF destroyer huh?” Shanks smirks. “I’m curious to see just what kind of “destroying” you can do when I have you whimpering under me.”

 (You literally cannot win with this man.)

Doffy (NSFW)

🦩He looks down on the bracelet on his wrist with a rather displeased expression 

🦩In all honesty he found it quite adorable that you put time and effort into making something for him

🦩But it’s what you called it that has him unamused

 

 “What did you just call this thing?”

  “It’s a friendship bracelet…”

  “How ridiculous.” 

 “You don't like it?..” Doffy notices the dejected look on your face and with a flick of his wrist, pulls you into his lap.

   “Don’t get me wrong my sweet girl, I do appreciate it. But..” A wicked smirk forms on his face while large hands trail down your curves, slowly making their way under your skirt. “I’d say me and you are…. a little more than ‘friends’~, wouldn’t you agree?”

 (The same bracelet decorated hand found its way around your throat as he proved his point to you.)

[pursuitseternal]

𝑀𝒶𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉: 𝒶 𝒸𝑜𝓁𝓁𝑒𝒸𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃 𝑜𝒻 𝒮𝓅𝒶𝓌𝓃 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒜𝓈𝒸𝑒𝓃𝒹𝑒𝒹 𝒜𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓇𝒾𝑜𝓃 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝑅𝒶𝓅𝒽𝒶𝑒𝓁 𝒻𝒾𝒸𝓈, 𝒹𝓇𝒶𝒷𝒷𝓁𝑒𝓈, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒜𝒰’𝓈

Tolkien (Sauron, Annatar) Masterlist

Link on Ao3

EtL Gur!Tav x Astarion—Katja hates her circumstances of a tadpole in her head, but she hates him more, Gue by birth, monster hunter by trade like her people. As for him, she’s the same stock of vagrant that killed him all those centuries ago; punishing her should be fun.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

Chapter 4 |

Ao3 link | Tumblr fic Index

Ascended Astarion x f!Reader

“I can’t yet speak its language…” Astarion doesn’t know all his powers, despite the title of Vampire Ascendant, despite having a Bride at his side. Suppose these manifest themselves surprisingly, even awkwardly… a bit of comedy and smut.

series link on AO3

Series of scenes from Acts 1 and 2 of Spawn Rogue Astarion x Female Reader.

✨Part 1: “Go back to sleep, darling…” [the SFW flirty bite one]

✨Part 2: “You’ll have to keep quieter than that…” [the NSFW sexy fingering one]

✨Part 3: “Daggers are a love language, my dear…” [the NSFW sexy daggers one]

✨Part 4: “Let me have that sweet ambrosia, my love…” [the NSFW vampire feeding frenzy, period sex one]

✨Part 5: “All vim and vigor, dearest…” [the NSFW healing trope one]

✨Part 6: “Maybe we should fight more often…” [Lovers Spat and Make Up Sex one]

✨Part 7: “You had better tie me up, darling…” [fuck or die Sex Pollen one]

✨Part 8: “Anything to reassure you, my sweetest…” [jealous tav needs nsfw convincing]

✨Part 9: “Dexterity check first, my sweet” [my homage to his hands, and an excuse to use Sharess’ Caress]

✨Part 10: “To things that warm us!” [drunken toasts and public cockwarming]

✨ Part 11: “Use Your Words” [prompt full au: lovers run]

✨ Part 12: “Decadent” [Valentines Day sex chocolates, semi-public sex]

✨Part 13: “You’ll end up bitten” [the werewolf smut, knotting one]

✨ Part 14: “Don’t hold your breath” [underwater oral hot spring surprise]

✨ Part 15: “Knowledge is a dangerous weapon” [bookworm Tav, Spawn powers, breeding (no babies) kink]

✨ Part 16: “Your body’s already given you away” sharing body heat, caught in a storm

✨Part 17: “You make me want to live:” BG3 anniversary smut based on the song

✨ Part 18: “I wanted to hear you whimper:” Brat taming the Vampire

✨Part 19: “Please:” The Graveyard Smut scene

Yuletide in Faerûn Part 1: A Yuletide Miracle (Spawn)

Ao3 link | Tumblr Fic Mini-Masterlist

Scenes of Ascended Astarion x Female Reader, realizing that all the power in the world can’t instantly heal all his trauma. It takes love, sex, and making him remember the Vampire Rogue he once was. All chapters are NSFW.

link on AO3 | tumblr fic masterlist

🗡️Enemies to Lovers | Astarion x Named Tav

💞🗡️He can’t remember anything, but she does. The betrothed she believed dead, the source of all her centuries of grief and heartache now in the middle of her path after the Nautiloid crash, but something is different about him. Dark. Changed. Something hidden.

𝓞𝓾𝓻 𝓑𝓵𝓸𝓸𝓭, 𝓒𝓸𝓶𝓹𝓪𝓷𝓲𝓸𝓷 𝓠𝓾𝓮𝓼𝓽𝓼…

“Our Blood: Into the Fire:”

Astarion, Cordehlia, Wyll, Karlach and Raphael… NSWF

Ao3 Link

Summary: A favor once given to ensure Ascension is finally owed in turn: Raphael arrives from Avernus. With the thrill of another battle on the horizon, Astarion and his Raven prepare for fires and blood. Lust and bloodlust aren’t quite so diffent

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

“Our Blood: Liars’ Night”

Summary: At the request of their old Wizard companion, the Ascendant and his Raven arrive in Waterdeep the night before Liars’ Night. “A matter of utmost importance” needs their aid, a dangerous prospect with enemy Vampires, secret artifacts, and a good old fashioned Masquerade for the holiday

Ao3 Link

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

🩸Ascended Astarion x Selûnite Shadowheart🌙

Caught sneaking on the walls of the Crimson Palace, Shadowheart wakes in the dungeons, deep in the Monster’s lair, the keep of her former companion and current tormentor, Lord Astarion. BDSM kink fic with a happy ending.

Ao3 link | Fic tumblr Index

Lumina is different, newly turned, and she has turned the head of the Master, the Vampire Ascendant. For the first time in 200 years, his beating heart might just feel something again.

CW: darker turns to softer AA, Harem of Spawn, No Tav, OC reminds AA of his past, “she’s special,” some jealousy, manipulative sexy AA, angst with a happy ending

Ao3 link | tumblr Fic Index (all chs)

🩸🗡️Ascended Astarion Drabbles Mini-Masterlist

✨🗡️ Spawn Astarion Drabbles Mini-Masterlist

😈 Raphael Fics Mini-Masterlist

🩸🌙 Shadowstarion

🗡️ “To Slice the Tension” [knife play]

🛐 “Unholy” [Priestarion, religious corruption]

Fanart by @marimosalad, @nyx-knox @snowfolly and @dafna-winchester

[gayvampyr]

did buy a sexy knife though so at least i have that going for me

i just spent over $50 on things i don’t need but that i really like. but it’s okay i don’t need food or supplies this month

[harkonnen-darkness]

(𝐍𝐚-)𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 / 𝐅𝐞𝐲𝐝𝐬 𝐖𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬 🖤

[𝐯𝐨𝐥. 𝟏]

Maybe plus some bodypaint and markings on your lip? I'm pretty sure you would hide a knife or a dagger somewhere. Probably on your leg. 🗡️

(All pictures are from Pinterest. If you want a link to one, please let me know.)

[gaiasgrimoire]

HEKATE - History & Origins

Hekate (also spelled Hecate) is an ancient goddess who originated in pre-Greek Anatolia (modern-day Turkey) and later became prominent in Greek mythology. Her roots are deep and complex, with associations that span from the underworld to the heavens, making her one of the most enigmatic and powerful figures in the ancient world.

Origins of Hekate

1. Pre-Greek Origins:

Hekate's origins likely stem from pre-Hellenic times, specifically in the region of Anatolia. Some scholars believe she may have evolved from a local goddess worshipped by the Carian people, a civilization located in southwestern Anatolia. In this early context, Hekate was probably associated with fertility, the natural world, and the cycles of life and death.

2. Introduction to Greece:

Hekate was later integrated into the Greek pantheon, where she became a highly revered and complex deity. Unlike many other deities that were tightly tied to a specific realm or aspect of life, Hekate’s powers spanned the heavens, earth, and the underworld, giving her a unique and formidable position in the Greek spiritual framework.

3. The Hesiod Connection:

Hekate first appears prominently in written Greek records in Hesiod’s Theogony (circa 8th century BCE). Hesiod describes her as a powerful goddess honored by Zeus himself, with dominion over the earth, sea, and sky. According to Hesiod, she was one of the few Titans who retained her powers after the Olympian gods defeated the Titans. This depiction of Hekate as a goddess of great authority suggests that her worship was both widespread and significant during the time.

Hekate’s Role and Attributes

Hekate's identity evolved over time, and she became associated with several key aspects:

1. The Crossroads and Liminal Spaces:

Hekate was often depicted as a goddess of the crossroads, symbolizing her connection to liminal spaces—places where the boundaries between worlds (life and death, light and dark) are thin. Crossroads were considered magical or dangerous places in ancient times, and offerings were often left for Hekate at these junctions, particularly on nights of the new moon.

2. Goddess of Magic and Witchcraft:

Hekate became closely associated with magic, witchcraft, and the mystical arts. She was believed to have power over spirits and ghosts and was often invoked by those seeking protection, guidance, or to cast spells. Her role as a guide in the spiritual realm made her a key figure in the rituals of ancient sorceresses and witches.

3. Triple Goddess:

In later traditions, Hekate was portrayed as a triple goddess, representing the three phases of a woman’s life (maiden, mother, and crone) or the three realms she ruled (earth, sea, and underworld). She is often depicted with three faces or bodies, symbolizing her ability to see in all directions and her mastery over past, present, and future.

4. Keeper of the Underworld:

Hekate was also connected to the underworld and became a key figure in the myths surrounding death, the afterlife, and the spirits of the dead. In many depictions, she is shown holding torches, which symbolize her role as a guide, lighting the way for souls journeying to the underworld. In the myth of Persephone, Hekate is described as guiding the young goddess back to the world of the living, solidifying her connection to both life and death.

Symbols and Iconography

Hekate is often depicted holding torches, symbolizing her role as a guide through darkness. Other symbols associated with her include:

🐕 Dogs: Dogs were sacred to Hekate, often accompanying her in depictions or howling at crossroads, signaling her presence.

🗝️ Keys: As a gatekeeper between worlds, she holds the keys to the underworld and the mysteries of life and death.

🐍 Serpents: Symbolizing rebirth, transformation, and wisdom, serpents are frequently connected with Hekate’s imagery.

🗡️ Daggers: These represent her role in cutting through illusions and revealing truth.

Worship and Practices

Offerings at Crossroads: In ancient Greece, worshipers left offerings known as Hekate’s Supper at crossroads. These offerings often included food, incense, or small tokens to appease the goddess, seek protection, or honor her as a protector of the household.

Pharmakeia (Witchcraft and Medicine): Hekate was revered by witches and healers for her mastery of herbcraft, poisons, and magical spells. Those practicing pharmakeia (the ancient art of medicinal and magical herbs) would invoke her assistance in their workings.

Legacy

Hekate’s legacy is vast, and she remains a powerful figure in modern paganism and witchcraft. Contemporary witches often invoke Hekate as a goddess of magic, transformation, and protection. Her connection to the moon, the night, and the spirit world makes her a potent deity for those walking magical or spiritual paths.

In essence, Hekate is a goddess of boundaries and transitions, guiding individuals through difficult journeys—whether in the physical world or the spiritual realms. Her origins are ancient, but her presence endures, particularly for those seeking wisdom, magic, and the courage to face the unknown.

[cynthia39100]

Merlin rewatch -- S3E5: The Crystal Cave

Arthur's choice of gift for Morgana is so perfect. I want one too. Look how much Morgana adored it.

Arthur is usually the one who has a more rigid gender view so it's really nice to see that he considered carefully (by himself) and picked something practical and what Morgana might like, not the typical jewelry like Merlin said or combs/mirrors other lords gifted her.

Love Arthur’s enthusiasm for the gift he chose. Immediately wants to show off to Merlin.

Of course, it could be that Arthur was so bad at choosing gifts for women (seeing that Merlin did all the courting for him) that he just bought something he himself would like. That's nice too. I think Pendragon siblings did have some similarities and they knew it~

Merlin’s opinion wasn't necessarily wrong (I think Morgana did like pretty things) but it's so general and in such a dismissive tone. He was just being snarky because the future he feared didn't come to pass.

But then Arthur took the advice in his own way! Obviously you make the weapon prettier. Awesome. Love his thinking process. And it's very in character. Arthur had shown many times that he was able to reflect/accept criticism even if it's directly opposed to his beliefs. Also he was a pragmatic person and a knight so the dagger stayed on 🗡️

I wish Arthur and Morgana could have more direct interactions in this ep… It’d be beautiful if some residual love and care for Arthur awakened inside Morgana because of this considerate gift…

[S3E5] [other episodes]

[siennafrxst]

🗡️₊ ⊹ ~֒ tick tock

SEASON 4 SPOILERS!

pairing: damon salvatore x fem vampire reader

universe: tvd (the vampire diaries)

word count: 0.9k words

a/n: this takes place in S4E3. instead of meredith being in the trailer with damon, it’ll be you.

click here to visit my fanfic masterlist.

◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤

As the trailer door creaks open, Damon carefully turns his head to spot the person he’d been expecting.

“Took you long enough,” he scowls, which earns a sigh from you.

“Well, you were being so cryptic in your messages,” you respond.

“Just — come in, already,” he urges in a hasty tone.

You step into the trailer and close the door behind you. When you finally get a good look at Damon, your eyes widen as it falls to the arrows piercing through him, a piece of string attached to an explosive.

“Tell me that is not a bomb,” you tell him in a shaky, breathy tone.

“Okay, it’s a kitten. An adorable, exploding kitten.”

When he gives you that obnoxiously shit-eating smirk, you let out a scoff of exhaustion. “Why did you even call me?”

He frowns. “Isn’t it obvious?” He gestures to the arrow in his chest.

“No, I mean — why did you call me? You should’ve called Stefan.”

Damon pauses at the mention of Stefan’s name, his unserious expressions faltering. “Sibling drama. Now, can we stop yapping and start working?”

You wanted to continue your insistence on getting Damon to make up with Stefan, but you knew that this wasn’t the right time. And so, you finally let out a sigh of defeat. “Fine.”

You haven’t exactly seen a lot of bombs in your time, so seeing one this close to you and Damon was… unsettling, to say the least. The bomb was carefully situated on a corner shelf, the only thing preventing its explosion and your imminent deaths were the strings and arrows puncturing Damon.

You carefully take a step closer to inspect the bomb, observing how it would — hypothetically — tick off once the strings are disturbed. But there was another component to this that you could tinker with… the arrows.

You turn around to face Damon once more, who meets your troubled gaze. Your eyes trail down to the arrows penetrating his chest, cringing quietly at the sight.

Damon notices your shift in mood, the way you wince slightly at his gorey wounds. He lets out a soft sigh, deciding to break the ice by making a remark stupid enough to lift the direful circumstances.

“Hey, it’s better than seeing me naked, right?”

Your disturbed and worried expressions finally break into a weak smile, before you manage to divert your gaze and attention back to the matter at hand. You carefully take a step closer before kneeling down in front of Damon to inspect the mechanics of the strings and arrows and how it relates to the explosive. And then, it hits you.

“I think we can cut the arrows from the back and it should disable the trigger,” you declare before standing up to face him once more.

“Then you’ll need a dagger, the arrow’s laced with vervain,” Damon informs more breathlessly than before, slightly losing more energy as time passes.

You simply nod in agreement. “Yeah, I figured,” you muse.

You glance towards him once more, picking up on his increasing exhaustion, prompting you to act faster and get him out of this situation. You quickly scan the desk in front of you and conveniently spot a dagger, which was sufficient enough to cut through the wooden arrows. You reach out to grab it before standing behind Damon, bending your knees to get a better position and to properly cut the arrows.

You take one sharp inhale before exerting all your strength to slowly and precisely slice through the arrow, careful not to touch it with your bare hands. In a continuous motion, you carve through it back and forth, causing the arrow to shift slightly in its place. Damon winces lightly at the feeling, before noticing a letter on the desk nearby and picking it up.

You pause in your movements for a moment when you see Damon examining a letter.

“Is that Connor’s?” You quirk a curious eyebrow.

“No, it’s a letter from Pastor Young to April. It’s basically about the sacrifice and war and “greater evil” brewing in Mystic Falls.”

You let out a soft chuckle, unable to take that seriously. “He sounds deranged.”

“That’s because he is.”

Your chuckles come to a halt when Damon's phone starts to ring on the table. Spotting Elena’s name on it, he ignores the call and looks away from it.

Continuing to pry open the arrows, you frown at the way he reacts to the phone call. “Why isn’t Stefan on hunter duty, anyway?”

Damon snarks sarcastically. “He had a physics test.”

You simply smile to yourself. “Huh.”

Noticing the way your voice had a playful tone in it, his eyebrows furrow into a frown. “Don’t be getting any ideas now.”

“Let me get this straight — you’re strung up to a bomb while Stefan plays vampire with the girl who broke your heart. It’s just ironically funny to me.”

“Ha-ha, that must be why I’m laughing right now.” He rolls his eyes.

After a few more seconds of slicing, Damon finally hears all the pieces of the arrows falling to the ground, letting out a sigh of relief.

“There. It should be safe now,” You declare after you examine the arrows once more.

With that, Damon doesn’t waste another second to pull the arrows out of his chest, panting softly when his wound is finally relieved.

“Hey, Y/N.”

As Damon turns around to face you, you raise your eyebrows in anticipation for what he was about to say.

“Thank you.”

Without saying another word, you simply return a small smile at the man.

◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤

likes and reblogs are vv appreciated.

[peachesofteal]

I wonder what darling would be in a fantasy au maybe a noble or a commoner a healer would be nice too. what do you think?

🏰 🗡️ 18+ MDNI / little bit of non con.

If you’re a commoner: you live in the little town that the 141 passes through one day. Maybe you work at the inn that they stay in for the night, exhausted from a long day of traveling. When you serve them their ale, your hands shake, sloshing the amber liquid all over the the table and Johnny’s pants. You try to clean it up, but only end up dabbing a rag across the heat of his half hard cock, face going deliciously flustered when you realize, even worse when you see that Ghost is watching you, bent at the waist, anxiously trying to clean your mistake, Johnny’s arm stretched along the back of the chair, grinning like a cheshire cat.

If you’re a healer: You’re a mid level healer for the kingdom that the 141 is assisting with sacking. One of them gets injured, takes an arrow to the shoulder, and Gaz snatches the first healer he can find in the hall, dragging you to where Ghost is laid out on the kitchen table of the servant’s quarters. They’re so enraptured by you, how you treat Simon so kindly even though they’re responsible for the destruction of your home, that it hardly takes a few moments before they’re deciding to bring you with them when they leave, no matter if you want to go or not. They love sweet things, after all.

If you’re a noble: They find you in the manor, where you’re alone, abandoned by your Lord husband, left to fend for yourself. But… you’re not nice. Or helpless. You try to stab Simon with a dagger you’ve got in your skirts, nicking his arm, to his complete glee. You’re a fucking brat and Simon makes you get down on your knees in your prettiest dress so he can choke you on his cock until you’re crying, Johnny patting your face and wiping your tears sweetly.

[yiiyiiwrites]

🗡️ | Relics and Ruin | 2 |

Part Two [Previous part] [series masterlist]

Summary: you're a mender in the dawn court, tasked with fixing cursed and broken relics. Azriel x dawn court reader 2,546words

Two days of staring at the truth-teller and it kept repeating the same word. Lies.

The dagger rattled on the table, your older sister pacing the free space in front of you. If you didn't know any better you'd think the relic wasn't fond of her hurried speech or tone either.

"Mother above," she snapped, her hand steadying the truth-teller. "You can't even talk about it, yet you're going down there with those people."

"I think they're more than capable to go there," you said swatting her away from the table.

Truth truth, the murmurs somehow reassuring your fears. You wondered what other energy surrounded the dagger, the thought pulling you to pick it up. The hilt warm against your skin, surprisingly light and it moulded to the curve of your palm as if it were meant to be.

Your sisters words were muffled, the sharp blade drawing your attention. The hold it had on you, intense. A dull twinge pierced your chest and you recognised the aching tug of longing. You'd felt it under the mountain, the burning desire to feel the sun upon your face and breeze washing over you.

A gloved hand circled your wrist and you gasped, truth-teller clinking to the table. Blinking back the blurry vision, shadows swarmed around you, the wind tracing your cheek. The hold on your wrist acted like an anchor, firm but light as you calmed your racing heart.

"Hello," a low, smooth voice spoke beside you. If there wasn't a weight clutching you, you'd think it was the shadows speaking.

Just like the truth-teller, it's owner seemed to tug and draw you in. His touch oddly welcome and familiar, it had been years since you'd allowed someone so close. You stared up at him, hazel eyes focused on your sister.

You slipped out of his grasp and stepped back, your hand shooing the wisps of darkness. Of course he'd look at your sister, so much light and love.

Lies, lies.

The difference was startling as Lena, your sister stood in the golden light of the sun. Her bronzed skin held a warmth you denied yourself, keeping yourself in your studio. Hair that reminded you of rising sun, long and swishing halfway down her back. You on the other hand had chopped your hair off as soon as you were free from under the mountain.

As Lena spoke to the Illyrian, you took the opportunity to study him. He's quiet, but his gaze focused on Lena's as he listened to her rambling on. His gloved hands tucked behind him, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as if he knows you are admiring him.

He didn't say a word to your sister, but she's leaning closer and smiling up at him as if he's inviting her. Maybe that's why you feel a pull towards him, he's magnetic and drawing anyone in.

Lies, Lies.

Lena placed her palm on his arm, "I'm sorry, I didn't get your name." She'd been weaving through the court, denying her hand in marriage until she either met her mate or someone with high nobility.

You couldn't help but feel the burn, brows furrowing at your sister and the smooth action, something you'd never dare to do.

"Azriel," he said, stepping back and bowing his head slightly.

His gaze met yours and you looked away, finger following the woods grain of the table. The relics hoarding your studio were quiet, truth-teller the only one seeking your energy. The silence all too consuming, your thoughts flowing freely. Multiple energies were dulled since the dagger had been left in your possession, commanding you to face your mind or maybe your own truths.

Bidding your goodbyes to your sister, eyes trailing after her to make sure she left. As you turned back to your desk, you flinched away from the shadows. You hadn't realised how close he was, didn't hear him approach your workstation.

"What are you doing here?" You asked, regretting the harsh tone of your voice.

Azriel picked up his dagger, turning the blade over and inspecting it. His shadows snaked around his gloved hand and to the scripture on the hilt as if reading it aloud. "Just wanted to see if you'd familiarised yourself with the energy."

Lies,lies.

He tensed, wings twitching briefly, but you caught it. Could the truth-teller speak to him too? Truth, truth

"You lie." The words tumbling from your lips before you could stop them.

His brow arched, "so you have familiarised yourself. Truth-teller rarely calls or speaks to others, you must be special." You didn't say how his energy matched, how you felt the same tug to him. A reason you couldn't hold his gaze, didn't want to get lost in the possibilities of your emotions.

You shrugged, "I'm not, just merely open to an objects energy and have a well trained ear to seek them out." The one advantage of rotting under the mountain meant you could hone your mending abilities, not that you had any choice. Fifty years tethered to cursed objects and magical relics, haunted by touch alone.

"And what do the other relics tell you right now?" Azriel asked, once again distracting you from your thoughts and memories.

The energy you used to seek comfort in was nothing but a withering buzz. Even the cursed relics usual shrieking, underwhelming. “Truth-teller calls above them all, draws me in as if it’s the only thing that matters.”

Two sides of the same blade.

The boundary of the dawn court and the beginning of the middle was somewhere you vowed never to step over again. You glanced over your shoulder at the rising sun, as if you’d never see it again for another fifty years.

Your body moved on memory alone, legs carrying you through the large stones entrance hidden beneath the weaving branches of trees. All source of natural light vanished as you stepped over the threshold. Your boots squelched in the trickling water that ran down the caves wall.

A small ball of light floated in front of you, but you were the one guiding them through the maze of passageways. Your head tilted to the side, pointed ears straining to hear of anything beyond your path.

Under the mountain was a place no one had mapped out completely. This entrance however led to the least desirable section. Not intricately carved out like the main area or the throne room. Granted, you’d never been out of this quarter, only three times had you walked the narrow passageways. You’d always remember though, your memory being something you trained as well as your mending skills.

No one had uttered a single word, afraid to hear your voice echoing back to you or summoning something from the depths of the darkness.

As you rounded the corner, your steps faltered. The familiar dingy hallway, doors lining each side. It felt just like before, the deep rooted knot in your stomach twisting. You expected to be shoved forward, but a light touch pressed against your lower back and you leant into the warmth.

“Rhys will go in if you cannot face it.” Azriels whispered breath fanned against the shell of your ear. You’d gone over the plan with them over a hundred times, each time Azriel had reassured you that you were not alone. That you did not have to do anything you were not comfortable with.

You shook your head, retreating from his touch and away from the warmth. Seven doors down, you stopped outside and glanced to the one opposite, the one that still haunted you at night.

“This is the relic room, I will check the other.” Your hand hovered over the broken chain, the ward spelled over the wooden panel zapping your fingertip. Thesan had warded the room so that no one could steal the relics, Rhys learnt how to break and remake it from entering his mind.

Rhys nodded, “we’ll meet back out here, try to keep it quiet. Don’t want to wake anything lurking,” he said, his magic making easy work of dropping the ward. The energy of the spell fell like a sheet of liquid gold, particles disappearing into the gravel.

Halfway through the door opposite you paused, “oh, stick to the shadows and if you hear screaming do not follow the light. Stay in the darkness and do nothing.”

The floating light whizzed past you into the room, it followed your gaze and lit up the areas you searched. You took the gloves from your pocket and shoved them on, the one thing they never allowed you under the mountain.

Touch meant more to menders than any other fae. It being both creation and destruction. Normal fae were more inclined to destroy something they did not understand, whereas you studied and mended. Just couldn’t mend all the destruction they’d done to you.

You tried not to remember this room, the contents still exactly how it had been when you’d last been there. The bed unmade, desk strewn with papers and his messy cursive writing. He’d always have ink staining the side of his fingers, sometimes it’d transfer to your jaw or cheek.

“This was your room?” Azriel asked, sifting through the papers on the desk. His hazel eyes glistening in the dull light as he glanced to you.

Those eyes, you couldn’t quite hold for longer than second. “No, this is someone else’s.” You dropped to your knees and pressed your cheek to the ground, arm sweeping underneath the bed. A small silver box scraped towards you, lock sealed shut.

You didn’t miss the scrunch of Azriel’s brow or the burning gaze that trailed your movements. It’s like he’s in a trance, that or he’s trying to figure you out in a room that isn’t, wasn’t yours. You removed your gloves, the leather too stiff, the constant squeak unbearable in the silence.

He sidestepped you as soon as your hands traced the side of the desk and opened the drawer. Vials of ink rolled to the front, a set of keys jingling on a metal ring. You took the keys, knowing what each one was for.

“I have what I need, let’s go to the relic room,” you said, glancing over your shoulder one last time before you leave the room for good.

Azriel’s hand hovered behind you, but you can feel the warmth and energy alone without his touch. It calms your racing heart and gives you the strength to the meet the relics again.

Cassian’s gaze flicked from the box in your grasp and to Azriel who remained close to you. Rhys staring at the hoards of relics, eyes glazed as he tried to listen for the murmurs of the desired object.

Dark wisps tumbled over your shoulder and twisted around one another as they travelled towards a glimmering spec of light. You would have missed it, if it wasn't for the pesky shadows whirling around the hilt.

The moment your gaze latched onto the relic, a high screech tore through the room and you dropped the box, silver slipping through your fingers. You heard the echo of voices, they merged with the swords energy as if they were connected.

"We've got company."

Azriel spoke, but as you turned to look at him you were met with nothing but shadows. Rhys vanished in a blink of an eye, Cassian crossing the space between you. He balanced a small dagger, blade between his fingers waiting for you to take it. You shook your head and picked the small silver box from the floor.

You grabbed his wrist, "stay in the shadows, don't go to the light." The lock clicked open with the turn of the key, you hesitated with the clasp, steadying your breath for what was to come.

Before you could open the box, Azriel's heavy hand slammed into yours keeping the lid closed. "Together," he said, giving you a slight nod, keeping his promise of not doing anything alone. His shadows swarmed around the two of you, those Illyrian wings curling in as you opened the lid.

You did not know, nor did you ask what spirit lived within the box. Only knew that when you closed it again, you would summon it back to its dwelling it was contained to.

A grey mist snaked out of the top and dove towards the remaining light through the gap between Azriel's wings. The hair on the back of your neck stood up, goosebumps rippling your bare arms. An icy cool breeze hung in the spirits wake, but it seemed to drag Azriel's shadows with it.

The darkness cloaking Azriel and you faded, his grasp on your hand loosening. "Go, help your friends," you whispered. You don't know what possessed you, but your finger smoothed the line of tension settled on his forehead. Blue ink stained his forehead, your fingertips painted the same colour.

"Autumn guards are here, the darkness devours them," he said, more to himself than you. The screams in the passageway filtered through to the relics room, high pitched shrieks tugging at Azriel like his shadows were trying to draw him out to the destruction.

He moved as quick as the shadows, the floating ball of light flaring in front of you. You saw the darkness shift, felt the breeze knock you back a few steps.

Stumbling back, you crashed into a firm chest. Scorching heat enveloped around you, burning touch forcing your hands to close the lid before the spirit devoured your light. You leant into the embrace, eye's closing as you savoured the thousand sparks of energy spreading like wildfire through your body.

"Do not touch her," Cassian spat.

You opened your eyes, the three Illyrian's scowling at the one behind you. The one you knew so well, the one that knew you too well. He let go and you turned to face him.

"Vanserra," you whispered. Eris Vanserra smirked down at you, his hand picking yours up. Ink smudging his fingers, he glanced between your stained hands and the blue smeared across Azriel's forehead.

"It's good to see you," Eris crooned, lifting your chin with his ink splotched hand. "My little mender."

You hated the way your body betrayed you, the mark on your chest burning at his silent command. The tethered bond coaxing you to lean into his touch, despite the stinging burn. You couldn't bring yourself to look at the shadow-singer or his friends, but you knew from his silence that whatever he thought of you before, was nothing now. Why did it bother you so much though?

Before your lips could touch Eris's, he'd winnowed you away in a blur.

taglist: @rcarbo1, @st4r-girl-official,@azrielswhore, @cynthiesjmxazrielslover, @shizukestar, @wolfbc97

I'm already writing the next part, sorry for the long wait between the first part...I was sick so only just getting back to writing now -Yiiyii

[turtletaubwrites]

You’d Do Anything For Me, Wouldn’t Ya, Doll?

Pairing: Buggy the Clown x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2104

Summary: You are Captain Buggy’s Vicious Dagger, his blade tossing beauty that recently became his lover. You’d do anything for him, and tonight you prove it.

Rating/Warnings: Explicit, Graphic Depictions of Violence, 18+ Only, MDNI, Smut, Knife Play, Vaginal Fingering, Hair Pulling, Praise Kink, Pet Names, Penis In Vagina Sex, Rough Sex, Dom Buggy, Condoms Come Shot, Comeplay, Established Relationship, Fem!Reader, Reader Insert, Murder of an Unnamed Character, Don't Insult Captain Buggy

A/N: This is an extended scene from Ch. 11 of the long fic, Take Me With You (if Cabaji hadn’t so rudely interrupted). You don’t need to read that long fic to enjoy this smut! Hope you enjoy it! 🤡💙🗡️

“Our deadliest dagger thrower is testing her skills! Is Orange Town’s bravest idiot lucky enough to survive the wheel of death?”

Before Buggy’s hands could send the wheel spinning, the man on the wheel screamed out, his voice lancing through the air.

“Leave us alone you ugly frea-”

The man’s insult toward Buggy was cut short as your dagger pierced his throat, dead center. You kept your Vicious face for him, and when Buggy looked at you, you knew he wanted you right then. Pride dripped through your skin as the tent filled with screams and crying for the quickly dying man.

Buggy spun the wheel, and you applauded as the man’s dying gurgles twisted through the air.

“There you have it folks! There’s no defeating Captain Buggy’s Vicious Dagger! Looks like Orange Town will have to do better than that at tomorrow’s show. See you then!”

You stood with Buggy in the light, using your body to gesture how he wanted you to, to show him off, your splendid Captain. You wanted to eat him up, the feeling of him so high making your own body shake.

The audience was led out of the main tent for the night, couldn’t do for them to see all the sets broken and made.

That left the big tent empty, save for you and Buggy.

Freaks had already come and cleaned the trash away, and you stood before the wheel, body on fire while he watched you practice.

Everytime you sunk a dagger, you pictured it sinking into the flesh of someone who’d hurt your King. You pictured the way he was looking at you right now, and you never wanted to stop.

Buggy lay across his throne, head tilted while you threw. His tongue kept leaving his teeth, and his smile was making your breath hitch.

You started to walk toward the wheel, all the daggers on your body now tossed across the floor.

Buggy’s hands flew out to stop you, and you gave a small, but excited yelp as you felt him touching you.

One hand grabbed your shoulder, and turned you back around so you could face him. You were both in spotlights, but he was still a knife’s throw away from you.

Buggy’s other hand returned carrying a dagger, and you reached out to take it.

He didn’t hand you the hilt, instead your breath caught as Buggy brought the knife to your throat.

You kept your Vicious smile on as you met his gaze.

Buggy beamed at you, eyes squinting in the light as the knife pressed into your skin gently.

The scrape of it made you gasp, in a far more sexual way than you expected. Buggy traced the edge of the blade down your throat, and then your chest as you shivered, and your eyes rolled back in your head. You cried out as the knife pulled a fraction more, taking just a prick of blood, before it was gone.

You looked toward Buggy and your knees almost buckled at the sight of him, legs spread on his throne, licking the taste of you off his dagger.

He laughed at you as you almost ran to him, not giving a fuck about anything except for your need to feel his tongue on you.

You were panting as you sped toward Buggy, and you tried to sit on his tempting lap.

Buggy’s blade stopped you, pressing under your ribcage as you caught yourself. The press of it was light, but the menacing look in his eyes made shiver, and you stumbled forward.

Buggy’s free hand shot out to grip your hair, forcing you up before you speared yourself on his dagger.

You cried out with a needy moan, and you couldn’t believe how wet you were from the tip of a blade and fingers fisting your hair.

“My beautiful freak.”

Buggy’s praise came out in a low rasp while he kept that taunting position on his throne.

“My Vicious girl. You treat your Captain so well.”

You whimpered quietly, aching for him to touch you. Then you felt the tip of that dagger drag along the fabric of the costume he’d chosen for you.

“You’d do anything for me, wouldn’t ya doll?”

Shaking, you nodded. You weren’t sure if you could speak as his blade met your skin again, tracing over the top of your breasts.

“You’d let me do anything to you, wouldn’t you, Vicious?”

You gasped for him now, and if Buggy’s hand in your hair hadn’t pulled you tight, you might have fallen to your knees in front of him.

“Wouldn’t you?”

Buggy leaned forward, his whisper burning as his eyes devoured you.

Licking your lips, you fought to stay steady. His knife scraped threateningly along your throat as he waited.

“Yes, Captain.”

“Come here,” Buggy growled as he pulled you to him by your hair. He took the knife from your throat, but you knew it was still in his hand, still floating somewhere close.

Buggy forced you to lean down for him as he shoved his tongue down your throat, chuckling at the desperate whimpers he ate from your mouth.

“Take your clothes off.”

He kept his grip in your hair, lighter now, but you knew he could use it at any moment.

You remembered the way he’d looked at you when you killed for him, when you practiced the skills he’d taught you. Never taking your eyes off his satisfied face, you stripped yourself of every belt, buckle, and scrap of cloth.

You felt Buggy’s dagger again, and gasped as its cool metal teased and scraped along your back. It traced over your hips, and thighs while he smirked for you, eating up every twitch and moan you gave him.

“That’s it, kitten. Let your Captain have control.”

Gasping, you struggled to hold yourself up, even with the punishing grip he held in your hair.

Your body was aching for him, and you felt wetness seep onto your thighs as he teased you with the blade.

You saw Buggy’s eyes flick down, and he licked his lips as he purred.

“Such a delicious little freak you are. I wonder what other depraved acts I can do to you to get you wet like this, hm?”

Buggy laughed then as he dropped his knife, letting go of his grip on your hair. Your knees had fully buckled now, and he caught your limp, twitching body before you slammed into the floor.

He lifted you under the arms as you whispered pleas for him. He shifted in his throne and sat you on his lap, stroking your hair and shoulders.

“You’re so good for me, baby. Let me show you how you make me feel.”

You wrapped your arms around him as Buggy attacked your neck with his tongue, sweet kisses, sucks, and gentle bites making you shake in his arms.

He growled against your ear as you begged.

“P-please Captain, I need you, need you so bad.”

You cried out then as he stood, lifting you into the air. You tried to cling to him, to anything. Then you were gasping, looking down into his devilish eyes as he knelt before you. Now you were the one splayed across his throne. One of your legs hung over an arm of the chair, while your pussy was spread wide before your Captain's smirking face.

“Tell me again, sweets. What do you need?”

You moaned at his question, and at his teasing fingers dancing along your thighs.

“I-I need you, Captain Buggy. I need you to do whatever you want to me.”

Your head hit the back of the throne as Buggy pulled his gloves off with his teeth, his eyes getting dark and dangerous.

“Why do you need me?”

His voice felt violent as his bare fingers stroked closer, now playing with the slick that had fallen to your thighs. Your words came out breathy and your body shook for him.

“Because you’re my Captain. My everything. You’re the best, the flashiest lover, gods, Buggy you make me feel so fucking good. I nee-“

You let out a moan that was almost a scream and writhed as Buggy shoved two fingers deep, already finding that spot inside you. His other hand sent its thumb circling, attacking your soaking clit while its fingers pressed down hard on your lower stomach.

You groaned at the sensation, both sets of his fingers pressing toward each other from either side. Your own fingers dug into the wood of his throne, and you thrashed, moaning, screaming. The fingers he curled inside you pressed so hard into that spot you felt like you were going to burst.

And then you did. Your head slammed into the back of the chair now, your legs thrashing and twitching while Buggy kept up his assault.

Your orgasm drenched his fingers, his throne, and Buggy laughed as he praised you.

“That’s my filthy girl, my Vicious little demon.”

You could hardly breathe from the torturous pleasure still riding you.

“You’d kill someone right here, and let me fuck you while their blood was still warm, huh sweetheart.”

“Y-yes, Captain!”

Gasping, you twitched as Buggy freed you from the vise of his deadly fingers.

You writhed for him as you watched him free his heavy, dripping cock from his pants. Your tongue fell out of your mouth in need as he pulled a condom from his jacket and ripped it open with his teeth before fisting it down over himself, licking his lips while he stared at you.

He spread you further, your torso sliding down the large chair as he held your legs spread over each armrest.

“You’re my dirty little Queen, aren’t you, Vicious?”

“Fuck yes, Captain.”

You could barely speak, your body shivering in anticipation as Buggy’s twitching cock was so close to filling you.

“Are you gonna soak my throne in blood and come for me everyday?”

“Yes, Captain, please!”

“Mm, good girl.”

Buggy didn’t wait for you to breathe. He shoved his cock into you, hitting the end of you, filling your pussy so tight, so fucking full.

You felt hot tears of pleasure and pain trickle down your cheeks as you held on.

“That’s it, Vicious. You can take it all for me.”

You screamed and screamed, aching as he used and abused your dripping cunt. You felt another orgasm ripping through your body, and you scratched your nails down his jacket, knocking his Captain's hat askew as you reached for his neck.

“Tell me what you need.”

Buggy’s command came out sounding panicked, his thrusts losing rhythm as he fucked you so deep.

“I need you, Captain! I need your cock, please. Buggy, I need your come so fucking bad!”

Buggy groaned, thrusting a few more times before tearing himself out of you. He ripped the condom off, and you opened your mouth wide. You let your tongue hang from your lips as you stared into his frantic eyes, hoping to catch some of his taste.

Buggy’s eyes rolled back for a second, until he gave his cock the last couple strokes.

His hot come shot out with force, coating your chest, neck, and chin, landing some on your eager mouth.

The taste of him on your lips was intoxicating, and you licked every bit that you could reach. Buggy moaned, and fell to his knees. You twitched for him as he rubbed his hands across the art he’d left on your breasts.

Moaning, you felt your pussy clenching for him again as he played with his come along your skin, massaging it into your nipples before pinching them. Then he scooped some off your neck, his fingers dripping as he shoved them in your mouth, forcing you to take more of him in.

You shook under his gaze, the look of satisfaction and ownership in his eyes driving you wild. Sucking every drop off his fingers, you couldn’t believe how much your body wanted him so soon after all that abuse.

“My little Star.”

Buggy leaned forward, making you cry out as he licked his come off your nipples before giving you the softest of kisses.

He wrapped you in his jacket, then laid you on his lap as he murmured sweet praise and promises on his throne. You melted into him, and his gentle fingers on your face and hair. You almost dozed off under his tender affection.

“Captain Buggy.”

You felt Buggy tense as you did from the interruption.

Cabaji was back from his mission at the Marine base.

He’d better be bringing my Captain good news.

Thank you for reading! 💜

TurtleTaub Fanfic Masterlist

Buy me a coffee ☕🙏🏼