#And I was like “Do my feet really smell that bad?” | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

saiintvalentiine · 19 hours ago

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three dog night

Summary: three dog night - a night so cold that it would take three dogs to keep warm.

It's the longest night of the year. It's the coldest too. Something escapes into the depth of the forest, and Wato is about to find out an unfortunate truth.

Word count: 3,081

Notes: heavily inspired by stories of the Korean gumiho, I bring to you: my insane ramblings that I'll be passing off as a Christmas gift for you guys. This is a real mess so you'll have to super suspend your disbelief for it. Warnings for gore, violence, and death. Feel free to point out any SPAG errors, b/c this is unedited af. Enjoy.

The cold feels good. It's painful on his face, biting his nose and chapping his lips. But his heart, missing its pearl and as black as the night sky, beats easier in the freezing temperatures.

The hunger is the only thing keeping him upright.

He has no idea how long it's been since he escaped the facility. Time moves like sludge in the winter, white flakes on his white hair on a white world, with only the white moon watching between the pines. It can't have been more than a few hours.

There's a man walking. He's walking through a forest alone, which is strange and dangerous, but the man smells like liquor. It travels through the air like a whip crack, his tail puffing up in subconscious disgust. A rotten liver. But the man’s heartbeat is strong and hot and loud, and he is oh so hungry.

Even in his current state, it's easy to crack the man's skull open with a rock. His body gags, tries to bring his pearl up only to come up empty. Pearlless. A dud. He doesn't care. He descends upon the body, tearing through fabric and flesh all the same, and finds the still-beating heart between splintered rib bones. The first bite is too hasty, splatters blood all over the exsanguinating corpse and his face and clothes, but the hunger dulls— it's not about the blood, after all, although it does soothe his throat. He eats every scrap of muscle until his breath starts to run hot enough to fog in the air.

The liver is, in fact, rotten to the taste, but he eats it anyway. None of the other organs entice him, speak to him, demand his teeth on their sanguine surfaces. He contemplates taking the man's shoes, but as he licks his hands clean, he decides he's taken enough. The body would dissolve away soon enough.

He struggles to stand up, snow sinking and melting with the warm blood. He's still hungry. He gags again, coughs out a spray of sparkling black. No pearl. Just the starry darkness on his chest. If he doesn't keep eating, he won't last, not without a pearl.

He tries to wipe the blood off of his face, but he can't see if he's making any progress. Burying his hands in fresh snow, he rubs it into his face, pointed ears flicking to catch any suspicious sound.

He stands up, bare feet padding through the snow in a staccato. His face is wet and cold, globs of pink snow dripping down from his cheeks. He doesn't really know where he's going, just that he is, and that he needs to eat again.

It's the longest night of the year. If there's one drunk, there's a hundred. He'll eat again or he'll die, and he can't die so soon after breaking free, so he will eat again.

Wato is pretty good with the cold. It doesn’t bother them as badly, wolf blooded as they are, but it’s still cold as fuck out here. They heard someone say it was going to be the coldest night of the season tonight, which they’re not too sure about, but it feels like the coldest night of the season so far. Though—

Wato’s memory has been spotty lately. They’d never say that their memory was the best, but it had never been so bad. They’re not even really sure what they’re doing in this town surrounded far and wide by an old growth taiga. This is, maybe, they think, the town where Wifies has his big ole escape room warehouse. Craning their head, Wato spots the looming shape of the bulky building, taller than most of the buildings in town but smaller than the spruce trees. Wato’s been there a few times, helped make a few rooms. Checking their chat, it looks like that’s exactly what Wato was doing here. The last message in Wifies’s chat is from Wato announcing they’d arrived.

Memory problems are no joke. Wato really needs to get onto fixing it. It's just a bad season for that kind of thing, with daylight hours so scant and time already stretched thin.

Walking through town feels like walking through a shut-down movie set. Everything is quiet, the only movement coming from a bar Wato passes with disinterest. The snow dampens all sound, freshly laid though the sky is clear now, so low and quiet that even their ears struggle to catch much. There’s a clear border where the town ends and the forest starts, and Wato stands on the threshold. Digging through their pockets, they’re thrilled to find their box of cigs and lighter. Popping the box open, they snort. One cigarette is left, flipped around.

“It’s my lucky,” Wato mutters, pulling it out of the box and flipping it back over the right way.

Holding the correct end in their mouth, they struggle with their lighter for a few moments. It sparks but doesn’t light, and the wind isn’t helping. Through the sharp, grating noise of the sparkwheel failing over and over, they hear. . . something. It’s quiet, but it sounds like someone panting or breathing heavily. Their ears flick, angling towards the forest. Glancing over, Wato doesn’t see much, but the treeline is thick and dark. They pocket the cigarette and lighter.

“Hello?” Wato calls out. “Is there anyone out there? You okay?”

The noise stops. The crunch of snow takes over. Someone with a notable limp from the sound of it.

“Hey, if you need help, there’s still places open in town,” Wato calls out.

Their suit and loafers are ill equipped for the snow. At least the streets are salted. They’re not going into the brush if they can help it. There’s movement, tree branches shaking and shedding a thin layer of snow. From behind an ancient trunk, a white head with pointed white ears appear— and then red, staining the tangled tips and neck of—

“Wifies?!”

Wifies— it can’t be Wifies, Wifies has dark hair and soft, folded ears that are only mottled with small spots of white. But it’s Wifies’s face, gaunt maybe, eyes the wrong color, a shimmery violet-gold instead of deep dark brow.

Those violet eyes dilate. The pupil eats the iris up until he looks more right. Wato takes a step towards him, slow, since they don’t want to startle him if he’s hurt.

Wifies books it in the other direction.

Wato doesn’t think about it; they make chase. They’re not sure if it’s concern for Wifies, or an unfortunate trigger of their prey drive, but it doesn’t matter. They can’t just let Wifies (maybe Wifies?) go if he’s hurt. The scent of blood is thick, tangy, easy to follow, and Wato lets their nose guide them to weave between trees.

The limp is even more noticeable now that they can see him, along with the absolutely drenched state of his clothes, with both blood and water. Even in their horrible shoes, they catch up to him easily.

“Wifies! Slow down!”

He might say something like no, but the air whipping past them both destroys all sound. Wato hates to do this, but they can’t think of a better solution. Bracing their shoulder, they speed up and ram right into Wifies’s back, knocking him flat. Wifies goes rolling, like a white and grey bowling ball, crashing into the stump of a felled tree. Wato cringes as they slow down.

“Sorry! I’m sorry, I didn’t know how else to stop you!”

Wato slows down, crouching in front of Wifies, body winded from the chase.

“Wifies—”

He darts up and hisses, all animal instinct and fear and sharp, sharp teeth. Wato doesn’t flinch. This. . . Imposter Wifies? Is clearly some kind of fox, tail puffed and ears pinned in fear. Wato can out run him if need be. Foxes are sly but he’s already hurt and slow. He struggles to climb over the tree stump and away from Wato while keeping eye contact.

“You’re not Wifies,” Wato says. “But you look like him. Who are you?”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he says, voice crackling, sounding just like Wifies, a non answer. “I like you. You were nice to me. But I’m hungry, and I don’t want to hurt you.”

What?

There’s a crack. Both Wato and the fox snap to attention. The wind that cuts through the trees is blowing away from both them and the noise, so Wato can’t smell anything about what it might have been. The fox shifts until he’s behind the stump, and Wato can tell he’s getting ready to run again.

“Your leg’s busted,” Wato whispers, still staring into the depths of the forest. “Where are you even gonna go?”

“I need to eat,” the fox says, then again, “I need to eat,” and then he spirals, hysterical but quiet, “I need to eat, I need to eat, I need to eat.”

Another crack. The fox scrambles back. An arrow whizzes through the air, burying deep into the top of the stump at an angle. Wato jumps away, and the fox scuttles like some kind of prey animal behind a tree.

“Did I get him?”

It's disorienting seeing Wifies, the Wifies that Wato knows, come into the clearing, while the fox that wears his face sits only a few feet away. He’s holding a crossbow and is wearing a lab coat that has to be doing absolutely nothing for the cold.

“Did you just try to shoot him?” Wato says, processing what just happened.

Wifies glances over, void eyes sucking in the bright moonlight like blackholes.

“He stole my face, Wato,” Wifies says, a black ear twitching. Wato can’t help but flick their own ear out. “Plus, he’s not some innocent little fox.”

“He’s already hurt.”

“Oh? Did you get that eating your first real heart, 24?”

The fox gags. It’s a disgusting noise, like he’s trying to drag something up and out of him, but nothing happens— at least Wato can’t hear him throw up or anything of the like.

“No pearl, no heart, no name,” Wifies notches another arrow in his crossbow, and Wato feels their hackles rise. “And a stolen face. Make this easy for me, 24.”

“I’m not going back,” the fox says, snow crunching as he retreats.

“Wifies, what’s going on?” Wato inches closer. “I was here today. We were working together. This is—”

“I was hoping you would’ve left already, because prolonged exposure makes you hard to control,” Wifies sighs, pulling something out from the inner pocket of his lab coat. “But I guess I can work with a few more hours of exposure.”

Wato sees the mask. It’s the Omz Mask, the one they had to pry off of Ken’s face. How the fuck was it here? Why did Wifies have it? The crossbow is pointed at Wato, mask held out casually.

“Put it on,” Wifies says.

“Do you even know what you’re holding?” Wato asks, stepping back. Wifies matches them step for step.

“I know. Put it on.”

“No.”

The crossbow fires, and Wato dodges, but it manages to clip their shoulder. Harming radiates off the wound, blurring their vision. Wifies notches another arrow.

“What the fuck is wrong with you!”

“Put it on.”

Jesus fucking Christ, what has Wato gotten into? Their eyes dark around, trying to find— something! Anything! A wisp of red circles behind Wifies.

“I won’t,” Wato says, voice rising. “What’s gotten into you?! Put the fucking crossbow down. That mask is dangerous, Wifies, it destroys the psyche of whoever wears it, did you hear what it did to Kenadian?!”

“It was Kenadian’s blunder that allowed me to get to it in the first place. He’s the fool who—”

A branch cracks across Wifies’s temple, thick and dark and wet. Wifies is felled, though he manages to trigger the crossbow on his way down; it sinks into Wato’s thigh, and Wato falls back onto the snow with a scream. The fox lifts the branch again, shaking, sleeves sliding down, and Wato’s focus comes in and out, but the fox is bludgeoning Wifies as best as he can. It's sickening, and Wato feels bile rise in their throat.

“Stop,” they cry out. “Stop!”

The fox stops, dropping the stick and looking at Wifies.

“I need to eat,” the fox says. “I have no pearl. I need to eat.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

Wato is willing to believe that this is all some kind of horrible feverish nightmare as the fox drops down on his knees and begins to tear through Wifies. He digs into Wifies's back and rips him apart, blood scattering like snowflakes in the air and stringy muscle melting into powdery white. The sticky haze of pain from his leg, the dizzying realization of where his memories may have gone, being threatened by someone they thought was a friend, and now a fox plucking a human heart out and eating it like it’s an apple— it’s all too much. Wato tries to crawl away.

“What the fuck, what the fuck,” Wato says over and over again, because they need to say something to the sight of a— they think it's a kidney? They don't know, they're not familiar with internal organs. “You're eating him, what the fuck!”

“He has it,” the fox whispers between bites of viscera. “He has to have it. He likes trophies. Where is it?”

Through the fox’s scratching and digging around, he finds “it”, Wato guesses, because he makes a thrilled chittering noise and holds something small and round to the light.

“My pearl,” the fox says, opening his mouth and dropping the pearl in.

The strangest thing happens, though Wato isn't sure if it's the strangest thing to happen tonight. The fox straightens up and his face brightens. Wato hadn’t realized, but this whole time, the fox’s breath hadn’t been visible until now. It rises like steam off his face, and he shudders. He then continues to loot a dead body he just cannibalized.

Wato is still unsuccessfully trying to get the fuck away when the fox stands up and stalks over to them.

“I like you,” the fox says, like he’s trying to remind Wato’s muddled mind.

“You just killed a guy! A friend of mine!”

“He was going to put the mask on you,” the fox kneels and grabs Wato’s ankle. “Stop moving, I’m gonna get the arrow out.”

“I’m going to bleed out if you do that!”

“Nah.”

Nah? Nah?! What world is Wato in right now? The fox straddles their calf.

“Stop it,” Wato bares their teeth, trying to growl through the nausea.

“Wato!”

Wato snaps up to look at the fox, covered in gore, stained ears to tail in red and pink, and doesn’t know what to say or do or feel. The fox wipes a bloodied hand through the snow, then wipes it on the back of his own sweater, and then places a potion bottle in the snow next to Wato’s hand. Their suit is heavy with melted snow, clinging to their skin and numbing their senses.

“I need to get this out,” the fox says, bracing his newly “cleaned” hand on Wato’s thigh next to the arrow’s barrel. “And you’re going to drink that when I do.”

“Are you fucking delusio—”

The fox yanks the arrow out of Wato’s leg, and Wato chokes on their words and collapses onto their back. The arrow is tossed away and the fox swirls the potion in Wato’s sightline.

“Drink,” the fox insists, tipping it into their mouth.

Wato only struggles for a moment, until the taste of melon convinces them to swallow. It hits their system like a wave, the wound on their arm closing first, and then the pain in their joints disappearing next.

The fox stops about halfway through the potion. He puts it back in the snow and scrambles off and back to Wifies’s body. Wato sits up, panting, watching the fox take the Omz Mask in hand.

“Wait, wait,” Wato grabs the potion, their leg still bleeding. “What are you— you can’t take that!”

“I like you,” the fox says, taking a step back, then another. “But I don’t trust you.”

“Please, just— don’t go, explain to me what just happened?”

The fox hesitates, and Wato drinks the rest of the potion, finally able to stand up again as the arrow wound sews shut.

“No,” the fox decides, turning around and running.

“What the fuck,” Wato freezes.

Wifies’s body is here, but the fox killed him, so it’s— fuck. Wato curses and follows the fox. Even with the head start, the fox still has a bad leg and the tang of blood trails him like a ribbon. Wato only realizes where they’re heading for once the silhouette of the warehouse breaks through the treeline, the fox zig-zagging between trees and around the northernmost wall of the warehouse. He cuts around the front, and Wato hurries— they have no idea how to get into the warehouse if the fox locks the main entrance, and they don’t have anything to break in with right now.

Rounding the corner, Wato has to stop and catch their breath, because the fox is gone. Checking the warehouse door, it’s unlocked. Wato doesn’t want to go inside. What they want is for their inconvenient memory loss to be convenient for once, and forget whatever the hell just happened, and leave.

“Wato?”

Turning around, Ken stands behind them in a puffer jacket and beanie.

“Wato! Are you okay?” Ken rushes over and grabs Wato’s arms, inspecting them with an increasingly furrowed brow. “I haven’t heard from you in two weeks dude, what’s going on?”

Wato doesn’t know what to say. Their legs hurt, their lungs are filled with pins and needles, and their head can’t stop replaying the decay of their night.

“It’s a three dog night out here,” Ken mutters, shivering. “Can we go in?”

“You have no idea,” Wato replies. “And you will not fucking believe what’s happened to me.”

The sharpened smell of blood is gone, like the fox hadn’t cut through here at all, but Wato knows that can’t be true. The sky is still dark and the night still has legs and Wato has seen more than they know what to do with. It all presses against their mind.

They say the only thing they can think of.

“Ken, I think I’m in trouble. I need your help.”

#saiintly apocrypha #saiintly hymn #fic: three dog night #wifies #wato1876 #ok no more fear :)

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greeenchrysanthemums · 19 hours ago

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Thus Always to Tyrants

Chapter 7: Distrust and Fear + Picture Books

Gem is the commander of the Wintertide royal army, Grian is the leader of a resistance hell bent on taking the crown down no matter the cost. It was only natural that they would become enemies.

Beginning -> previous -> next (tba)

Read on ao3 ❀ here ❀

CW: violence, mentioned starvation, mentioned death, minor animal death, tension

Words: 10,764

Pov: Pearl + Gem

❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀

“Stay safe out there.” Bigb said as he pulled the cloak - black instead of her usual red - tighter around her shoulders in the same way Pearl imagined a mother would for a child they were sending out to play or run errands.

“This isn’t my first time doing this.” Pearl said with a fond roll of her eyes.

“Of course it isn’t. You’re a seasoned veteran in this type of work. That doesn’t stop me from caring for your wellbeing.” He said before pulling the hood up and over her eyes, messing up her hair and momentarily blinding her in the process.

“Hey!” She snorted.

She fixed her hood and smoothed her hair back underneath it to keep the locks out of her eyes. She straightened the thigh strap that held her daggers and then tightened it, letting the cloak fall back into place afterwards. While the weapons were mostly hidden, they were obvious to anyone that looked hard enough. Innocent and unassuming at first glance, but deadly upon a further look; as was her brand.

She detested having to use the daggers, even with how easy they were to conceal and keep up an innocent image with. Her usual choice of weapon would be a scythe, in fact it was the only weapon she felt she was proficient in. However, it was far too difficult to carry around when she was trying to be sneaky, so... daggers it was.

“I better head out before it gets too much later.” Pearl said with a sigh.

“You don’t have the advantage of cloud cover tonight either, so you better go before the moon gets too high in the sky. It’s a full moon tonight, so it’ll be fairly bright out.” Bigb said before settling down into the cushiony seat that sat near a candle by the window.

“Just the way I like it.” Pearl said with a devilish smile. She waved Bigb goodbye before opening the window and settling her boots on the sill. She exhaled before dropping down into the night, her cloak billowing out around her as she fell.

Her smile dropped from her face as she touched down and began walking towards the outskirts of town, where the large forest that surrounded the kingdom was. The moon and the castle framed her from behind as the wind nipped at her fingers and the cold of the cobble she strode upon seeped in through her tattered boots to numb her toes.

As far as Bigb knew - as far as anyone knew - she was heading to the castle to do a little bit of reconnaissance before the big day of the party. She, however, had other plans for the night, more important plans that pertained to their dear leader in a different way. She wanted to feel bad for lying to Bigb about her whereabouts, but she couldn’t bring herself to. She was long past feeling guilt for sneaking around behind the backs of people close to her. It was part of who she was at this point, a habit she picked up at a young age and never was able to shake. It had kept her alive thus far, though, so was there really a need to feel any sort of guilt? It was just survival.

There was hardly a soul in sight with how late it was but still she kept to the shadows as she went, not making a sound even as Tilly silently moved to join her from wherever it was that the wolf-hound had been lurking until that point.

Soon the humming buzz of the city limits gave way to the thrum of life as her feet transitioned from the hard cobble of civilization to soft soil and crunching mulch of the forest. Crickets singing, birds chirping, movement rustling in the underbrush, and the noise of stray animals all reached her ears as the smell of crisp, unfiltered winter filled her nostrils.

“Alright, girl, lead the way.” Pearl whispered to Tilly, giving the old dog a pat on the head as her tail wagged and her tongue lolled out past her large teeth. Tilly didn’t have to be told twice as she raised her snoot into the air, taking a few big sniffs before letting out a low yip, taking off into the forest on quick paws.

Pearl followed behind her old companion at a similar speed, keeping her body close to the ground as she went. The wind whistled through the bare trees and snow sodden leaves flattened under the pounding pressure of their feet in a drum-like rhythm. They traveled so far into the heart of the woods that Pearl would have feared they were going the wrong way if the guide had been anyone other than Tilly. The old dog’s powerful nose had never once been wrong Pearl's entire life, and she couldn’t foresee that changing any time soon, even with old age setting in.

The forest grew more and more unkempt the deeper they went. Gnarled trees grew thicker in width, their large roots swelling from the dirt like waves upon the ground. Long, twisting branches hung low enough to leap over. It was a terrain that would be difficult to undertake with any less experience than Pearl herself possessed. As it was, she maneuvered through the forest with practiced ease.

The cold of the winter air whipping through her hair as she ran and the light of the full moon beaming down onto her were among the most freeing feelings she’d ever experienced in her life. It always felt like she and Tilly were the only beings in the world

Unfortunately, it was hard to enjoy the feeling on tonight of all nights, because they were not simply out for an evening run. Instead, they were here in the heart of this forest to spy on their leader to find out what he was keeping from them after weeks- no, months - of obvious dishonesty.

Up until this point, she had put too much faith into Grian, hoping that he was just under a lot of stress and that was the reason for his strange behavior. She wanted nothing more than to play the part of dutiful informant for him to help further his cause, their cause. However, as time went on, the job began to feel more and more slimy and wrong. Even when putting her doubts revolving around screwing over Gem aside, none of it felt right anymore. She could no longer overlook how dirty the job made her feel, how cruel Grian felt in his intentions and actions.

She shook the thought of Gem out of her mind. The all-consuming guilt was better saved for another night

So, while her heart raced with the adrenaline of the run, of the hunt, it also ached. A grief-like feeling boiled in her blood and gripped her lungs like a deadly pair of talons that sought to tear her apart from the inside. She couldn’t believe it had come to this, sneaking around and stalking after someone who was once her best friend.

But it had come to it.

Grian wasn’t the same person that he was when she had met him in her youth. There was barely any proof that the mischievous but kindhearted avian had ever existed. In his place was a cagey, dismissive, untrusting, and suspicious person. Where in her heart was once trust and adoration, there was now only wariness and a bitter sense of resentment that seemed to grow day by day.

She had already made up her mind to find out the truth for herself by any means necessary long ago, it had only been a matter of when and where it would happen. It had felt like a prime piece of meat had been handed to her on a golden platter when Mumbo had let slip while she was visiting him the previous weekend that he believed Grian would be meeting with his man on the inside on the night of the full moon, just a day before their next group meeting.

He knew he made a mistake mentioning it to her immediately after the words left his mouth and refused to give up any other information, so she hadn’t been able to confirm anything right up until Tilly smelt Grian’s presence enter and then exit the city limits just as the sun began to set.

Pearl knew she had arrived almost instantly, and she skidded to a horrified halt.

The aura of the forest changed from one foot fall to the next. The comforting buzz of life from the forest was extinguished abruptly like a candle blown out in the wind, replaced by a static silence that buzzed in her ears so loud that she had the overwhelming urge to cover her ears, and she would have if not for the fact that she felt frozen in place, unable to move even a single inch.

The air became thick and oppressive, pressing in on her from all angles like it was a physical presence. She could practically feel it crawling along her skin like a dozen centipedes. Her stomach dropped and a cold sweat broke out along her whole body. It became impossible to breathe.

This was magic stronger than anything she thought was possible. She could basically taste it on her tongue, thick like molasses but not nearly as sweet.

After the introduction of the grimoire into the mix, Pearl knew that Grian was dabbling in magic, but it was supposed to be a dying art. The strongest caster Pearl knew was Tango, and he could barely do more than summon enough fire to start a small bonfire. This amount of magic? It was unthinkable. It was dangerous. It was terrifying.

Tilly let out a low whine at her feet and it snapped Pearl out of her stupor. She gulped, her throat tight. She trembled lightly as she lowered herself down to run her hands through Tilly’s thick winter coat to ground herself. She took a few shaky breaths as she hunkered down into the underbrush with the old dog, praying that her moment of fear hadn’t caused her to be detected by whatever this was.

She tried to steal her nerves, her stomach twisting in knots. She knew that in order for her to get what she came for, she would have to venture further into this disgusting mass of magic.

Her mouth was dry as she began to move, and she swallowed in an attempt to bring some moisture back. She stayed crouched at Tilly’s height, holding onto the wolf-dog to keep her balance as she carefully guided the two of them further into the forest, now stepping carefully over the overgrown roots and taking more care to not step on twigs or leaves. They were in dangerous territory now; they could not afford to make any more noise than they already had.

She prayed to whatever force might be out there that whatever kind of magic this was, it could not detect her presence simply by virtue of her being there.

Unease settled on her like a slimy film, and she could not deny that she had thoughts of turning back now while she still had the chance. She had already come this far, though, she could not give up now simply because she was letting herself succumb to fear.

Her heart almost stopped in her chest as the low murmur of voices finally reached her ears. The volume slowly increased as she inched closer towards what she could only assume was the epicenter of this cluster of magic if the way it clung to her skin like tar was anything to go by. She halted her movement when the voices became loud enough for her to make out the words being said.

“- everything you asked for! This is small by comparison!” A voice shouted into the night.

“I would hardly call this a small request!” Pearl’s heart jumped at the familiar sound of Grian’s voice. He sounded frustrated

It appeared that she had arrived right in the middle of an argument of sorts. She crawled behind a tree with a trunk big enough to hide her body, braced her hands on the rough bark, and leaned to the side to try and catch a peek.

There, in a small clearing no bigger than a few yards in either direction, stood three cloaked figures under the light of the full moon. All of their hoods were up, and their faces obscured. She could clearly make out Grian among them, his short stature and hunched posture as he crouched upon a fallen tree were dead giveaways of his identity. She couldn’t make out enough of the other two figures to decide their identities, but one of them held a book open in their hand.

She quickly ducked back to be hidden fully by the trunk. She decided that with their positioning and their obscured face the likelihood of Pearl being caught was higher than her chances of catching a glimpse of Grian’s double man. Or double men? There were two figures, after all.

She closed her eyes and focussed back in on the conversation happening.

“I know for a fact that he has the ability to do it. Put that damn book to use and accept my conditions or this all ends here and now! ” The other voice bit out.

Pearl furrowed her brows. The voice sounded so very familiar and yet she could not place where she had heard it before. Tension grew in the already uneasy air as neither of them made a single noise, before Grian finally huffed, a displeased groan following the sound.

“You are making things a lot harder than they have to be.” He said. Pearl could perfectly envision him rubbing the spot between his eyes.

“I’m not denying that.” The other agreed. “But I am not backing down until you agree.”

“I cannot make any promises that it’ll work,” Scar’s voice suddenly interjected, causing Pearl’s whole body to tense even further. Tilly’s fur bristled under her palm. The man had always unsettled the both of them. In conjunction with the fact that the man had no scent, there was just something about him that was off, something that felt almost inhuman.

Grian had also claimed that he went to these meetings alone. No one else in the resistance was supposed to know the identity of the double agent. Grian had very adamantly refused to tell any of them.

“But I will do what I can, you have my word on that.” Scar continued.

“A chance, that’s all that I ask for.” The mysterious voice said, almost pleading.

“And a chance you will get!” Scar bolstered loudly, his voice bouncing around in the stagnant air. A chance at what?

“Now that we’ve agreed to your ridiculous terms, will you answer my question?” Grian snarked.

“I don’t appreciate that jab, but yes, preparations are all ready. As long as there are no further screw ups on your end, everything should go well.”

“Jab for jab, I see.” Grian said, now sounding slightly amused.

“I am only stating the truth. Your people left all sorts of obvious clues all over the castle, even after I made it almost laughably easy for you to be able to get the grimoire from the library.”

“If you’re done talking about my team's incompetence, can you hand over what I came for?” Grian asked.

Pearl heard the rustling of paper as the inside man presumably handed over some kind of delicate information. She bared her teeth, lip curling back at the subtle insult that was made at her expense. Getting into the castle relatively undetected was not nearly as easy as they were making it out to be. She was far from incompetent.

“And Gem herself made these?” Grian said, the parchment still ruffling, as if he was flipping through it. Pearl’s ears involuntarily perked up at the mention of the royal commander.

“That she did, though I have made some minor adjustments for your benefit.” The other replied, and then they continued. “I actually have one more question before we end this meeting.”

Grian paused, “What is it? Do you have yet another impossible request to ask of me?”

“Something like that,” They replied simply.

“Oh? Well, don’t leave me in suspense.”

“How long are you going to keep everyone in the dark? When are you going to start telling the truth?” They asked. Grian, at first, didn’t respond. Pearl heard him shuffle, his talons scrapping roughly against bark.

“...You are well aware of the reason the rest of the resistance can’t know your identity-”

“You know that's not what I mean,” They interrupted, “When are you going to tell the truth about everything.”

Pearl perked up, her eyes darting to the side even though it did nothing to help her see. This was what she had been waiting for. She already had confirmation that Grian was keeping things from them in the form of Scar’s deeper inclusion, but now she had further confirmation that he was keeping something more from them. Something big.

“They don’t need to know.” Grian replied without missing a beat, his tone harsh.

“They deserve to know. This is far too big of a deal to keep it a secret so close to doomsday, especially with their lives in the palm of your hands!” They tried to reason, their voice raising.

“I said they don’t need to know!” Grian shouted over the other, causing Pearl to jump, her shoulders going to her ears. Tilly emitted a low growl that Pearl quickly hushed. She had never heard Grian sound so angry, so…desperate before in her life.

“You know as well as I do that’s not true.” The other person responded in a low tone. “If thing’s go south, if even one little mistake occurs everything we’ve worked for, everything that’s led up to this, will all be for nothing.”

“It won’t come to that.” Grian all but whispered.

Pearl was so invested in the conversation that she barely noticed Tilly’s ears perking up, the old dog now at high attention. She thought nothing of it as Tilly pulled away from her to disappear into the underbrush, she simply moved her hand to clutch at the front of her cloak in place of Tilly’s fur.

“You don’t know that!” They shouted in response. “If you don’t tell them before D-day, I’ll-”

“You’ll what?” Grian interrupted harshly, “You’ll tell them for me? You know the second your involvement is revealed that worst case scenario you mentioned will be a reality for sure. You have less cards in this game than you believe you do. They don’t need to know.”

Grian ground out that last part of his sentence, putting heavy emphasis on every single word to drive his stance home. A sick feeling swirled in Pearl’s stomach

“You’re a bastard.” The other person spat, not arguing against Grian’s point.

“I think it’s best we cut this meeting here.” Grian responded dully, leaving no room for argument. “All we’ve done tonight is go in circles and fight with each other. We’re getting nowhere with any of this.”

“There you go, running away again.”

“Enough. Scar, you can drop the barrier now. We’re leaving.” Grian said.

“Alrighty!” Scar’s chipper voice replied.

“They’re going to find out one way or another, Grian. You’d do well to lighten the blow for yourself while you still can.” The mysterious person said, only to be met with no response.

The book shut with a loud snap. Pearl had to stop herself from gasping as the feeling of magic disappeared suddenly and abruptly, pulled from the very air with violent force. The sounds of the night rushed back in an instant, now overly loud in her ears after being deprived of them for an extended period. She clamped her hands over her ears and squeezed her eyes shut for a brief moment before snapping them open again, unwilling to let herself be caught off guard. Black dots danced in her vision.

In the time she had adjusted to the absence of magic, a more natural silence had fallen over the forest thicket, though the unease still sat heavy in her stomach. Cautiously, oh so cautiously, she leaned her back against the tree further and peeked around the bend, trying to gauge whether or not she was alone.

Her eyes widened and she immediately drew back with a choked off gasp.

Grian and Scar were nowhere to be seen, evidently having left while she was adjusting to the change in noise. His informant, however, was still stood in the same spot as previous. His hood was lowered, his face now on full display, his eyes reflecting the light as he gazed up at the moon with a forlorn expression.

Slowly she leaned back around to confirm what she just saw. Sure enough, it was him; she was positive of it. There was no mistaking it, anyone in the kingdom would be able to recognize that face. She had no doubts of his identity, even as he turned his back to her to walk in the opposite direction.

She couldn’t believe her eyes, even as she blinked and rubbed at them to ensure she wasn’t dreaming. Grian’s informant, the man who had betrayed the crown, it was-

“I know, I was surprised as well.” A voice suddenly whispered into her ear.

Her eyes widened and she opened her mouth - to gasp, to scream, she wasn’t sure - but a rough palm was pressed over the lower half of her face before she could make any noise and an arm around her waist pulled her away from the tree she had been taking shelter behind.

She struggled, throwing her elbow into the ribs of her attacker and kicking at their knees in an attempt to break free as she was dragged away from the clearing and back into the darkness of the overgrown forest. Who had caught her? Where was Tilly? What was happening?

Somehow, she managed to get a firm grip on the wrist connected to the hand over her mouth and used her core strength to flip the person over her shoulder and onto their back. She twisted their wrist and planted her foot on their chest, immobilizing them as they let out a pained wheeze.

“Wait, wait, wait! I’m not an enemy!” The attacker said frantically.

Pearl ignored them and pulled one of her knives out of the sheath on her leg with her free hand. She was about to crouch down for easy access to their throat when Tilly erupted from the underbrush and began licking the attacker’s face, her tail wagging as she did so.

“Tilly, what-?” She asked in disbelief as the person sputtered and pulled away from the dog slobber despite the way it pulled on Pearl’s hold on their arm. She released her death grip on the wrist and stumbled back. The stranger pushed Tilly away by the snout and sat up, causing their hood to fall.

It was the Crestian man, Joel, Pearl believed his name was.

She crouched next to him and grabbed ahold of his collar before dragging them face to face. The man let out an “eep!” and raised his hands to show that he meant no harm, his eyes blown wide. Tilly let out a displeased huff against Pearl’s shoulder, but she ignored her in favour of glaring at the Crestian in her grasp.

“What in the hells are you doing here?” She hissed through her teeth, trying to keep her volume down. Not that it mattered, their initial scuffle had likely already been seen and heard anyway, but it was the principal of the matter.

“The same as you, I imagine.” Joel stated as he leaned away from her in a way that was undoubtedly straining his neck. “Neither of us trusts Grian.”

Her eyes widened. She dropped him roughly before standing and walking a few feet away, running a hand through her wild hair and knocking her hood off. She crossed her arms and gave him a look over her shoulder

“Is that really something you should be announcing so brazenly while he might still be near?” She questioned with an eyebrow raised.

“They’re gone by now. Not even the other guy saw us,” Joel said with a wave of his hand. He stood and dusted himself off, rubbing at his tender shoulder before pointing at Tilly with his thumb. “Besides, I think your mutt would know if the blokes were close anyway. I was on the other side of the clearing, and she sniffed me right out. I only barely managed to stop myself from screaming bloody murder when she latched onto the cuff of my trousers and led me to you.”

“Don’t call her that.” Pearl snapped, reaching down to pet Tilly’s ear. Tilly would smell Grian if he was close and alert Pearl immediately, though, so he was right on that part. They probably were safe to be talking. “You make a lot of assumptions, you know.”

“I like to think of them as observations, not assumptions.” Joel said, pretentiously shrugging his shoulders. “I mean, am I wrong?”

“Whether or not I trust Grian is none of your business.” Pearl said, her lip curling in annoyance. She turned away from him. “Just forget you saw me here and I’ll do the same for you.”

“Why don’t we join forces?” Joel asked, hurrying to keep up with her as she began moving through the forest.

“And why would we do that?” Pearl asked, not even looking at him.

“It’s pretty obvious isn’t it? He’s lying to us, we don’t trust him, and we have a common goal.” Joel stated.

“There you go again, not only assuming I don’t trust him, but that the two of us have some kind of goal in common.” She said, shaking her head. Tilly walked between them, turning her head back and forth to look at both of them each time they spoke.

“Sneaking through the underbrush isn’t exactly trusting behavior, in my opinion.” Joel said. From her peripheral vision, she could see him raise an eyebrow.

“It’s…not that I don’t trust him.” She said hesitantly. She shook her head, wondering why she was even indulging him this far.

“Then what is it?” He asked, cursing under his breath as he tripped over a root and almost fell flat on his face before catching himself roughly on the bark of a tree.

“Why do you care?” She snapped.

“I”m trying to gauge whether or not I should be working with this man.You saw who he was working with! You felt that insane magic, which he somehow felt no need to mention he had at his disposal! How do any of us know this isn’t just some elaborate scheme to use us and then dispose of us once we’ve served our use? ” Joel reasoned, gesturing grandly with his hands.

“It seems like you have already decided that he isn’t worthy of your trust.” Pearl pointed out. She pulled a branch out of her way, ducking under it and then letting it go. It snapped back and hit Joel right in the face. He sputtered and flailed before righting himself once more.

“Well, yes, I have, to be completely honest. He has been shady and secretive about his real intentions from the very start; I have been against this whole alliance ever since it was first proposed. The only reason I’m here is because my que- the queen insisted his cause was worth supporting.” Joel said.

“Then what does what I have to say matter?” She asked. “Whatever you think I’ll do for you, you’re wrong. I have no interest in working against him.”

“You say that, but I know you want the truth just as much as I do. You heard them, whatever it is that he’s keeping from us - all of us, you included - is something that could put our lives at risk. Don’t you want to know what we’re really dealing with?” Joel insisted.

Pearl’s steps slowed to a stop and she glared at her feet. She wanted to turn him down a second time, but she had no real argument against his words. If she truly had no interest whatsoever in working against Grian, she wouldn’t have come here tonight. They wouldn’t even be having this conversation.

“Even if that is the case, I have nothing to offer you.” She said after a moment.

“You can offer me perspective.” Joel shot back immediately. “What brought on your distrust? What makes a supposedly devoted member of the resistance turn on her leader?”

“I already told you, I don’t distrust Grian.” She said with a huff. “It’s just that he’s…different. He’s different from the avian I knew as a child. It’s like he’s an entirely different person.”

“Isn’t that to be expected? I mean, people change with age, it’s highly unlikely he would be the same boy you knew. Surely that’s not enough to breed the uncertainty that you bear.” Joel said.

“I never expected him to be exactly the same, of course not. I know people change. I’ve changed a lot since my youth.” She defended. Once she began, suddenly she could not stop. The words spilled and spilled from her mouth like vomit.

“It’s that he’s changed so much. There isn’t so much as a trace of that sweet boy. The Grian I knew was mischievous and a bit of a devil, sure, but he was never ever cruel like he is now. He was never once dismissive and full of himself. He was caring and kind. He would give you the skin off his back if he thought you needed it.

“He was like the older brother I never had. He was my best friend. When he first met me, we were both starving orphans on the street that no one gave two damns about. He saved me from starving to death when no one else would spare so much as a heal of moldy bread. He gave me the very last bit of his food with a smile on his face even though he was also starving.

“We kept each other safe; we kept each other warm during the winter. He always did whatever he could to make me smile and laugh even when there was nothing to be happy about. He was like a light in the darkest of times.

“He-he made me feel loved and safe when the world wanted nothing more than for me to disappear. But-but I just can’t see that part of him anymore, and it- it-!”

“It what?” Joel prodded gently as she struggled to find her words.

“It scares me.” Pearl whispered. She hadn’t noticed that thick tears were rolling heavily down her cheeks until she tasted the salt on her lips. Her lower lip trembled as she pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes and sniffled in an attempt to stop the tears from falling. Tilly whimpered, leaning into Pearl’s side in an attempt to comfort her. She swallowed and then continued. “I want to know if I’m doing the right thing, helping him with this insane plan, even if I agree that the king needs to be replaced. I want to know if my Grian is still in there somewhere, if he’s really doing this for the benefit of other people and not…”

“For himself?” Joel asked. His expression was more somber now. Pearl nodded, squeezing her eyes to rid them of a few more stray tears. She took a deep breath and then nodded again, more firm and resolute this time.

“I’ll work with you.” She said, “I’ll help you figure out the truth of what’s going on. If not for your benefit, then my own. And if not for my own, then for the people of this kingdom and yours.”

A smile broke out across Joel’s face and he clapped his hands together. “Does this mean I have your support to bring his secrecy up during the meeting tomorrow night?”

“...Yes, you have my support.” She said with a sigh, once again wondering if she was making the right decision. It felt nice, however, having her feelings validated in this way. It had been so long that she had been holding that within herself.

“Yes! We’ll confront him together and demand answers!” Joel said, pumping his fist. He paused and then looked at her, his moonlit concern evident. “How likely it is, do you recon, that your peers would turn on us. Is their loyalty to Grian blind?”

Pearl thought for a moment. “I know that there are others that are just as unsettled by Grian’s behavior as I am. If it comes down to it, they’ll be on our side no matter what happens. Others…they’re so desperate for this rule to be overturned that they don’t care what Grian’s hidden motives might be, they’ll follow him. If I had to guess, it’ll be split nearly even. And this is only us assuming Grian’s secret is deal breaking to even us.”

The thought of infighting this late into the plan was frightening to Pearl, but she could not deny that this was something that needed to happen. If it came to it, and lives were at risk, the plan would just have to take a back burner.

“That’s good enough for me.” Joel said with a shrug. “Grian's plan works in Coral Crest’s favour, so I really hope it doesn’t come down to a divide, but we’ll be prepared for it if it does.”

He then reached forward and handed her a piece of parchment. She turned it over in her hands, her brow furrowing as she realized that it was entirely blank. The only thing that tipped her off to the fact that it wasn’t a normal piece of paper was the way her fingers lightly tingled under its rough surface.

“What is this?” She asked.

“It’s enchanted parchment. I have its sister piece with me, so whatever you write on your piece will be transferred over to mine and vice versa. They’re old, made back when magic was in its height, so their enchantment has worn over the years, but they should still work well enough if you have something urgent you need to convey to me before the next meeting. Grian isn’t the only one with magic at his disposal…though ours is a little more tame..”

“That’s amazing…I didn’t even know such enchantments even existed.” Pearl said in awe.

“Yeah, well, they’re as rare as they come, so you be careful with that. I don’t have another one.” Joel said, pointing a finger at her.

She marveled at the parchment for a second more before shoving it into the waistband of her trousers, much to Joel’s apparent displeasure as his face twisted up. The two of them shook hands and parted ways, electing to go in opposite directions to avoid the chances of them being seen together once they reentered the city.

Pearl kept a hand on Tilly’s scruff for comfort as they walked back to the bakery. The wolf-dog kept so close to her that Pearl would have been tripping over her with each step if this was not a familiar song and dance that they did every time Pearl was nervous.

She didn’t know if she had made the right decision in agreeing to support Joel. She was just as scared and unsure now as she was when she set off at the beginning of the night. The trembles going down her frame weren’t from the cold. She chewed on her lip enough that she feared the delicate skin would break under the abuse.

She had a lot of thinking to do to make sure tomorrow night didn't end in great disaster

For now, she was ready to drop with the exhaustion of the night weighing on her. She almost sighed in relief as Big Bakeries came into view, the building a sight for sore eyes. She took no note of the light in the window above as she entered the alleyway and rounded to the back. She led Tilly into the bakery through the backdoor using the key Bigb had entrusted to her years ago, which she kept on her person at all times. She locked up behind herself and climbed the stairs.

She yawned as she pushed the door to her and Bigb’s shared bedroom open, stretching her arms high above her head as she crossed the threshold. She paused as Tilly let out a confused whimper. Pearl's eyes snapped open, her arms dropping down to her weapons in an instant.

The candle still burned, nearly a stub at this point, illuminating the small room with its dying light. Bigb was sitting in his chair facing the door, his arms crossed over his chest with his eyes closed, but they slowly opened as soon as the door creaked loud enough to announce their presence.

That was not what gave Pearl and Tilly pause, however. That honour went to the figure sitting on the sill of the open window.

“Welcome back, Pearl,” Bigb said, “You have a visitor.”

❀ ❀ ❀

The gentle pink of the dawn sunrise filtered in through the frosty castle windows, scattering pale, rose tinted sunbeams along the high walls and red carpets. Though Gem had been awake since long before sunrise, she couldn’t help the sneaky yawn that escaped her as she passed by several groggy castle staff who were just now rising to attend to their duties, their own yawns far too contagious for her to handle.

She had hardly slept a wink the night before, the revelation about the grimoire far too heavy on her mind to allow her any rest. She simply could not accept the idea that it had been a simple thief that easily. It seemed far too convenient.

So, she decided to take a day “off” to visit the library and speak to the librarian for herself. Luckily there were not many preparations to make for the party anymore, and she had already sorted out that week's patrol routes and divided them up between her soldiers. The only thing she really had to do was oversee training in the evenings, and she already convinced Impulse to take that over for her, leaving her with enough free time to do as she pleased.

She shouldered open the grand doors that spanned from floor to ceiling, barely grunting at the weight of them like most would. The smell of parchment, ink, and dust immediately assaulted her nose.

Thick drapes were pulled away from long, palladian windows all around the vast room to let that rosey sunlight into the otherwise dark, cluttered space. The large, overflowing oak bookshelves sprawled so high that they kissed the ceiling, which were decorated with gorgeous murals of times long past, with flowing swirls of magic painted in pops of bright and bold colours.

The library was two floors tall, with a winding staircase in the center of the room, where also sat the large desk that the head librarian occupied. On this second floor - which was off limits to those without clearance - ladders were fixed onto the ends of the shelves, their purpose being to reach books that were otherwise too high.

The floors were marbled, but were interrupted by plush red carpets in several spaces, mainly those that would see a lot of traffic like walkways between shelves. There were chairs and tables scattered around and near the windows, each one housing a candle stick.

She made her way over to the head librarian's desk, flashing the woman a wide smile when she looked up as Gem approached.

“Hello, Sam.” She greeted, setting her hands on the cold oak. “I got your report. Would you mind showing me to the case where the book was stolen?”

The middle aged woman pushed her wide, circular spectacles further up her nose, giving her eyes a large appearance as she blinked owlishly up at Gem. Her blonde and brunette mixed hair fell from the lazy bun it was pulled into at the nape of her neck, strands of it falling around her shoulders and into her face. Her long, boney fingers smoothed down the pages of the book she was reading, her eyebrow cocking in tune with the tilt of her head. An amused smile graced her thin lips.

“Right to business as always, aren’t ya, miss?” She asked before standing.

“I’m all work, no fun, they say.” Gem joked with a laugh as she followed Sam around her desk and up the winding staircase that sat behind it. The librarian walked with a bit of a hunch, her hands folded behind her back; her lavender dress swayed with each step she took.

Gem looked around as they ascended the stairs, their steps clicking with each new stair they climbed. She really wished that she took more time to visit the library every now and then, it really was a beautiful place. There were so many books that the shelves were all bursting at the seams, overflowing.

The sunlight coming in through the windows was taking on a more golden hue compared to the previous pink as they made their way over to the sturdy glass displays atop a long table situated in the middle of the room that were previously unseen from down below. They were simple things, just dark oak frames filled with panes of glass on all sides as well as the top; their bottoms made of deep, polished obsidian.

Gem looked at each of them carefully; there were three of them in total. There was a gemstone in the smallest case on the rightmost half of the table. It was a deep purple around the edges, but took on a pink to white gradient towards the center, which was cracked open like a horrible wound to show off a deep, blood red heart on the inside.

On the leftmost side of the table was a thin wand made of a lavender tinted, white wood Gem didn’t have the knowledge to identify. It was embellished with delicate vines and flowers carved into its long faded surface. Capping its bottom and its tip were fine silver that was remarkably polished and taken care of despite the obvious signs of age that the rest of the wand showed.

Her eyes zoned in on the empty middle case.

“Right, well, this is it.” Sam declared, giving a lackluster flourish of her arms before letting them drop to her side.

There were no obvious signs of tampering, and it made sense as to why. The method to open the cases was almost laughably simple; all one had to do was lift the frame off of the bottom to gain access to the delicate wire stands within. It was remarkably easy to steal from them. It was an oversight that had Gem gritting her teeth and mentally smacking herself in the forehead.

“Tell me about the stolen item.” She requested. Sam nodded, her wide eyes growing glossy with excitement.

“These are a collection, actually. We believe that all three items were once owned by a powerful wizard in ancient times, long, long before any of us were born! The first item here is The Evoker’s Wand. It was said to have been handcrafted by the caster himself as a rite of passage from youth into adulthood! Wands were actually used only for minor spells, as their ability to conduct magic was very limited due to their size, making them the perfect items for fledgling wizards. Though there have been casters who were capable of producing grand amounts of magic with wands even smaller than this one!

“And then this stone here, I know it doesn’t look all that glamorous, but it's actually a crystal that was once used in the tip of the wizard’s staff. It was said to have been one of many of its kind, one of the End Crystals of myth! This one has long since lost any magical properties, but these crystals used to be grand conductors of magic that were highly sought after. They say that the spells the wizard was able to produce with this crystal were world shattering.” Sam said, her hands up around her face, here shoulders hunched with her glee.

“And the missing book?” Gem asked with an amused tone. "With how you’ve described the other items, I would think they would be the first someone would think to steal. I hardly believe this grimoire was simply just decorative if these other items are so great.”

Sam’s face flushed a little with what Gem assumed was embarrassment. She cleared her throat and straightened her posture before carrying on.

“Right, yes,” She cleared her throat again. “The grimoire… it came with the other items when the king - the previous king, not our king Ren - bought them, so we assumed it was part of the set, but it really was an anomaly. We don’t know much about it to be quite honest with you, miss. The writing was a language no one has been able to decipher before, and the cover was almost entirely destroyed long before it ever came to us.

“I have personally taken to calling it ‘The Eye’ because of the strange drawing in the center of the book, which took up two entire pages. It felt like the book was staring at you whenever it was open to those pages…I imagine it was a very powerful spell book back when the owner was alive, but it was hardly worth anything now in the magic sense. That's what makes it purely decorative now. There probably isn’t a soul alive today that can read its text.” Sam finished with a shrug of her shoulders.

Gem bit her lip.

“Why do you think the thief chose to steal the book over any of the other treasures? Surely the crystal would sell for more. Or even the wand, the detailing is quite beautiful.” She questioned.

Sam thought for a moment before she shook her head. “I haven’t a clue. To anyone who doesn’t know the history, the wand is simply a pretty piece of wood, and like I said, the crystal isn’t all that glamorous after years of wear and tear. The book itself was damaged as well, but it was an easier fix than the crystal. If I had to guess, they simply thought the book would sell for more.”

Gem nodded, though it left her with more questions than she had answers. She would just have to accept it as it was; a thief looking for a quick bit of coin stole something from the king’s collection and the choice was likely random. But something still just didn’t sit right with her…

“I’m sorry I wasn’t more help in your investigation.” Sam said remorsefully, rubbing her elbow nervously.

“Oh, no, you’ve been wonderful. It’s not your fault that this is such a strange mystery with no substantial leads.” Gem said, waving her hand in a way she hoped was more reassuring than it was dismissive.

“Is that all you came here for, miss?” Sam asked.

“Actually,” She started, looking up, “I was wondering if you had any books on Evalore?”

Sam blinked at her in that owlish way of hers. “Surely I do! Would you like me to go fetch them for you?”

“I would love it if you could help me find any that you have.” Gem said with a nod. Then she tacked on. “If it’s not too much trouble, that is.”

“It is hardly a bother! Barely a soul comes here anymore, I delight at being able to do my job.” Sam said in a somewhat joking tone, “Why don’t you go make yourself comfortable at one of the tables and I’ll bring you what I find?”

“Oh, no I couldn’t ask that of you. Let me help collect them?” Gem requested.

“Oh thank the gods, I just hate climbing those ladders.” Sam said, shoulders sinking with relief. Gem laughed heartily as Sam began leading her through the library to collect the books.

The sun was properly in the sky by the time Gem was sitting at one of the tables in the far corner of the library with a stack of books in front of her. She had expected there to be more, because in the end all she ended up with were seven books, three of which were children's books of pictures and few words.

“Though I am sure you already know this I must still warn you, miss. When it comes to Evalore, most everything you read or hear about the tragedy itself will be more myth than reality. It was incredibly hard for scholars to grasp the reality of the situation since it was such an isolated incident. Because of this, it is likely you will run into many inconsistencies across sources.” Sam said, patting the topmost book on the stack.

“I understand. I figured as much would be true.” Gem said.

“Then I’ll let you get to it. I hope you find what you’re looking for.” Sam said before disappearing around the shelves to return to her desk.

With a long, suffering sigh, Gem pulled the first textbook from the top of the pile and began reading.

The first few books described the land in glorious detail. Like Skizz had told her, their kingdom was situated in the heart of the great redwood forests, but what he hadn’t told her was that the kingdom itself was inside of the trees.

Within the pages of these books were drawings of beautiful, unique buildings carved into, and built around, the tops of these giant trees, with pathways and bridges connecting each and every one of them together. Spiraling staircases were built around the trees all the way from bottom to top, but they were not needed by most of the inhabitants because they were a civilization of avians.

Gem had heard that there was once a kingdom of purely avian citizens during the time of magic, but somehow Evalore had never come up by name before.

According to two separate books, Evalore’s main form of trade was their spiced wine, which was harvested from the sprawling apple orchards that they cultivated on the border of their kingdom. However, another book also claimed that they made a pretty penny off of jewelry made from polished stones, beads, and their own feathers. Gem ran her fingers down the beautiful drawing of a bracelet, wondering what it would have looked like in person.

Music was another thing Evalore had been known for, particularly their flute work. It was custom to carve an instrument from the wood that was dug out of a newly created home and give it to the occupant as a gift. Most often it was a flute of some kind, but string instruments were also common.

It came as no surprise that they were once host to competitions pertaining to flight, including races and diving. What was a surprise, however, was the fact that they also hosted wrestling competitions during their yearly festival.

She soon found herself lost in the pages of the books, immersing herself in the history of this land which no longer existed as the hours passed like the blink of an eye. They painted a picture of a beautiful kingdom full of beautiful people and beautiful culture.

However, the tragedy she was hoping to learn more about was hardly mentioned more than once or twice, and only as an afterthought.

After countless hours of reading, she knew just as much as she did at the start of the day. By all accounts the fall came out of nowhere. There wasn’t a single explanation in sight for the sudden massacre and destruction.

There was no mention of a foreign power at play, no mention of growing tensions with another kingdom. Hells, there wasn’t even any reports of growing tensions within the confines of the kingdom itself. No unrest, no uprisings, no interpersonal wars, nothing. Evalore was thriving and happy one day and then it was gone the very next.

Gem sighed deeply and sank into the chair with a groan, her forehead resting on the edge of the book with her nose squishing against the wood of the table.

It truly felt as though answers were never within her grasp.

She heard footsteps approaching her through the near silent library, and then a familiar voice said, “I was beginning to think we needed to send out a search party.”

“Hi, Scott.” She said with a sigh. She sat up and ran a hand through her hair to get a few stray curls out of her face. She wished she had the foresight that morning to wear her hair back or in a bun. “Am I needed somewhere?”

“No, I was just wondering if you were getting up to. Surely looking into the grimoire situation wouldn’t have taken this long.” He said. Dusky hues of purple and blue backdropped him from the window as he sat down in the chair across from hers. He picked up one of the books and then raised an eyebrow. “Evalore?”

“Yeah,” She confirmed, planting a cheek in her palm and grabbing one of the unread children’s books from the pile. “I don’t know what I was expecting to find, but I haven’t found it.”

“You must have heard what the knights have been saying, I assume.” Scott said, sighing as he set the book back down on the table.

“That we’re going to end up just like that?” She asked, eyes still downcast. She flipped the children's book open lazily, running her finger tips down the inked parchment.

“Evalore was an unpredictable tragedy, no one knows how or why it happened. The situations are entirely different.” He said softly, reaching out to take ahold of her hand in a comforting manner.

“I see as much now. I guess I was hoping that if I found out what caused the fall of Evalore, I could pinpoint a way to prevent whatever it is that Grian is planning and make sure we don’t end up in ruin.” She turned the page of the children’s book, “But it was all for nothing. It feels as though everything I have been doing lately is all for nothing.”

“Come on now, Gem, you know that’s not true.” Scott said, though his words fell on deaf ears.

Gem turned the page to the book and paused, her posture straightening as her eyes landed on something…peculiar. She pulled her hand away from Scott’s and took the book into a proper hold, flipping back to the first page.

This particular children's book had no author, only the initials F.S delicately inked in the bottom left corner of the cover, and it had taken a more childish method of telling Evalore’s tale, with a baby bird as the main character and a snake as a villain. It was so fictionalized that she hadn’t paid it any mind when she first spotted it. Truthfully, she hadn’t even intended to read it in the first place, but now she was studying each page with great care.

The party was grand, with flowers aplenty and food in abundance. The birds danced and danced around the sparkling fire until the stars were high in the sky. Their joy knew no bounds.

The baby bird had long grown tired of the party. He was exhausted, his little body craving for nothing more than the soft leaves that cradled him in the bottom of his nest. He searched and searched around for his mama and papa, for he had yet to learn how to fly and needed their help in getting home, but they were nowhere to be seen.

When he found them not in the thicket of the party, he wandered out onto the thinner branches. But before he knew what was happening, his little talons slipped!

The chick fell from the alcove so high up in the trees, falling past colourful leaves and flowers, his little wings flapping desperately to stop his fall to no avail. His tiny body bounced off of the soft soil of the ground he’d never touched before.

Everything was new, everything was strange. He was so, so very scared.

He knew the way up, but he was too small, too weak to make the climb on his own. His wings were too tiny, his skills too undeveloped. He could not make it home on his own.

“Won’t someone help me!” He cried from the ground so far below the branches. The jovial noise above continued on, oblivious to his pleas

“I can help you.” A voice whispered from the underbrush.

Frightened, the chick turned to the voice. A snake, long and purple and covered in speckles of black slithered from the shadows. His eyes glowed like the embers of a hungry fire.

“Who are you?” The chick asked.

“I am one who watches. I watched as you fell, I watched you cried, I watched as they ignored you.” The snake hissed in reply.

He circled the young bird, his long body coiling around and around the chick’s own small one. The chick looked up at the snake, his tears beginning to dry.

“If you welcome me into your home, I can bring you up high into the trees.” The snake hissed.

“But Mr. Snake,” The chick asked, “Your teeth are so sharp and your gullet so large. Will you not eat me and my own?”

“No, little chick, I would never eat you. I am a friend!” The snake replied. "I only wish to help."

“Do you promise?” The chick asked.

“Why, of course I do.” The snake said, his words sincere where his eyes were not.

And so the chick climbed atop the snake’s back and led him through the branches, welcoming him into the tree he called home. Up and up they went.

However, as soon as the two of them made it to the top, screams erupted!

The snake darted for the rest of the chick’s flock, throwing him from his back with little care as he devoured all in his path. They tried to run, but they were too slow. The once loud, happy party was now silent save for the chick’s cries.

“Snake, you promised!” The chick weeped. “You lied, you lied!

“Oh, little chick, I never lied. I promised not to eat you and I have not.” The snake hissed with eyes as cruel and as sharp as a the fangs in his mouth, his belly now swollen.

"How could you? I thought you were my friend!" Cried the chick

"I am one who watches. I watched as you fell. I watched as you cried. I watched as you foolishly trusted me-

There! Gem paused her reading on the page that had initially caught her interest. It was a full face shot of the snake. He was drawn to be smug, his cruel face taking up the entire page in a way that was undoubtedly meant to be unsettling, but that wasn’t what was intriguing. What was were the markings etched onto the snake’s forehead, which was exposed with the downward angle he was drawn in.

It was an eye.

“Gem?” Scott questioned, his confusion evident.

She ignored him, jumping to her feet with the book in hand and taking off through the library with her mind racing. She bumped into several shelves on her way, knocking more than a few books to the ground in her haste. Sam was looking in her direction with wide, alarmed eyes as Gem approached with alarming speed. She skidded to a halt in front of Sam and shoved the book into her face.

“Oh!” Sam exclaimed, flinching back.

“Was this similar to the eye you saw in the grimoire?” Gem asked, panting for breath. Scott stumbled to a stop behind her.

“What is going on?” He asked.

Sam looked between her, Scott, and the book with that same startled expression before she adjusted her glasses and squinted her large eyes at the page. Her eyes widened again and she took the book from Gem’s grasp. Her mouth fell open and she blinked a few times before looking up at Gem. She set the book down gently on her desk and nodded once.

“What is this about?” Sam asked uncertainty.

“Is it at all possible that the stolen grimoire was a relic from Evalore?” Gem asked, ignoring Sam’s own question.

“From Evalore?” Scott asked in disbelief. “Everything from Evalore was destroyed during the incident, it would have been a bigger deal if Wintertide got its hands on even a piece of its vast wealth. No one who has handled that book has ever made such a connection.”

“It’s-it’s possible. We came into possession of all three treasures during the first war, and the king never did say exactly where he got them from… But the grimoire was hundreds of years older than the kingdom of Evalore itself, and it wasn’t even written in the language that they spoke. That would only raise the question of why it was there.” Sam said slowly, her eyebrows furrowed in thought. “And as sir Scott pointed out, no one has ever placed such a high value on the old book before. It really was just a dusty old book.”

“Then how do you explain the similarity?” Gem asked, stamping her finger into the page for emphasis, accidentally crinkling the page a small amount with the force used.

“I can’t say I have ever even seen eyes used as a symbol in relation to Evalore.” Scott said. Sam shook her head.

“Nor have I,” She said, “Though I can’t deny how strikingly similar the eye looks to the one in the grimoire…”

“Surely it can’t be more than a coincidence.” Scott said. He carried on, a little more exacerbated with his next words. “It’s nothing more than a children's book, Gem.”

“Surely it has to be more,” Gem said. She grabbed the book, flipped it around and then brought it back to the first page. “It seems an odd twist of fate that a book with a similar symbol within its pages as the one in this book, one that is speculated to be of high magical value, has gone missing so soon after Grian has announced to me a suspicious ‘plan’. Not only that, but there is a party fast approaching, a party just like the one in this book.”

“Slow down, Gem. When did we begin assuming that it was the resistance that stole the book? I thought we had decided that it was a thief looking for riches.” Scott said, holding a hand up.

“That was before this!” Gem exclaimed, gesturing to the book.

“You cannot seriously be suggesting that Grian has based his plot for overthrowing the kingdom of Wintertide off of a fictitious children’s book.” Scott said slowly.

“That’s not what I’m suggesting!” Gem said, annoyed. “What I believe is that somehow Grian made the connection that Wintertide was unknowingly in possession of a powerful magic relic and intends to make use of it at this party.”

Scott was silent for a moment, taking in her words.

“Even if that were the case, what could he really hope to accomplish? No one who can cast the kind of magic that it takes to bring down entire kingdoms even lives in this day and age. There is no way he could ever hope to cast that kind of spell.” Scott reasoned.

“With enough man power, he just might.” Gem said, deadly serious.

A pin could be heard with how silent it suddenly became in the library. Sam looked between the two of them with clear horror and fear written all over her now very, very pale face. Scott took one look at the librarian and then took a hold of Gem’s arm, pulling her out of Sam’s ear shot before leaning in and whispering.

“Do you understand the implication of this theory of yours?” Scott asked, unease, or perhaps fear, leaking into his words. Gem nodded.

“Whatever it was that happened to Evalore all those years ago, Grian is trying to replicate it.”

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theres-whump-in-that-nebula · 2 months ago

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I will eat or drink anything but apple cider vinegar is like drinking feet

#I just chugged a little because I’m feeling like I caught something and [gross retching noises]#I’m gonna have acid reflux later I just know it #The first time my mom tried to give me some as a kid I threw up (due to the acid reflux)#So I only had the bottom of a repurposed yogurt cup and it was PAIN #If I puke my guts out maybe it’ll expel the cold virus #My mom drank it in tea all the time and of course I would come home from school after gym and take my socks off #And I was like “Do my feet really smell that bad?”#It wasn’t my feet it was the apple cider vinegar #I wish it didn’t taste so awful because it is really good for you

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pygmi-says-hi · 3 months ago

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STOP DOING THIS IN INJURY FICS!!

Bleeding:

Blood is warm. if blood is cold, you’re really fucking feverish or the person is dead. it’s only sticky after it coagulates.

It smells! like iron, obv, but very metallic. heavy blood loss has a really potent smell, someone will notice.

Unless in a state of shock or fight-flight mode, a character will know they’re bleeding. stop with the ‘i didn’t even feel it’ yeah you did. drowsiness, confusion, pale complexion, nausea, clumsiness, and memory loss are symptoms to include.

blood flow ebbs. sometimes it’s really gushin’, other times it’s a trickle. could be the same wound at different points.

it’s slow. use this to your advantage! more sad writer times hehehe.

Stab wounds:

I have been mildly impaled with rebar on an occasion, so let me explain from experience. being stabbed is bizarre af. your body is soft. you can squish it, feel it jiggle when you move. whatever just stabbed you? not jiggly. it feels stiff and numb after the pain fades. often, stab wounds lead to nerve damage. hands, arms, feet, neck, all have more motor nerve clusters than the torso. fingers may go numb or useless if a tendon is nicked.

also, bleeding takes FOREVER to stop, as mentioned above.

if the wound has an exit wound, like a bullet clean through or a spear through the whole limb, DONT REMOVE THE OBJECT. character will die. leave it, bandage around it. could be a good opportunity for some touchy touchy :)

whump writers - good opportunity for caretaker angst and fluff w/ trying to manhandle whumpee into a good position to access both sites

Concussion:

despite the amnesia and confusion, people ain’t that articulate. even if they’re mumbling about how much they love (person) - if that’s ur trope - or a secret, it’s gonna make no sense. garbled nonsense, no full sentences, just a coupla words here and there.

if the concussion is mild, they’re gonna feel fine. until….bam! out like a light. kinda funny to witness, but also a good time for some caretaking fluff.

Fever:

you die at 110F. no 'oh no his fever is 120F!! ahhh!“ no his fever is 0F because he’s fucking dead. you lose consciousness around 103, sometimes less if it’s a child. brain damage occurs at over 104.

ACTUAL SYMPTOMS:

sluggishness

seizures (severe)

inability to speak clearly

feeling chilly/shivering

nausea

pain

delirium

symptoms increase as fever rises. slow build that secret sickness! feverish people can be irritable, maybe a bit of sass followed by some hurt/comfort. never hurt anybody.

ALSO about fevers - they absolutely can cause hallucinations. Sometimes these alter memory and future memory processing. they're scary shit guys.

fevers are a big deal! bad shit can happen! milk that till its dry (chill out) and get some good hurt/comfort whumpee shit.

keep writing u sadistic nerds xox love you

ALSO I FORGOT LEMME ADD ON:

YOU DIE AT 85F

sorry I forgot. at that point for a sustained period of time you're too cold to survive.

pt 2

also please stop traumadumping in the notes/tags, that's not the point of this post. it's really upsetting to see on my feed, so i'm muting the notifs for this post. if you have a question about this post, dm me, but i don't want a constant influx of traumatic stories. xox

#writing tips #writing advice #writing help #writblr #how to write #fiction writing #for writers #on writing #writing stuff #writer life

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euthymiya · 22 days ago

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The heater’s out. December’s cold is unforgiving as it seeps between the cracks of your doors and through the windows, forcing you to huddle closer.

Sukuna grunts as your freezing, icy feet press against his calves. “Your feet are fuckin’ cold. Get’em off.”

“No,” you whine, “You’re warm.”

Just to prove your point, you press them harder against his skin, making him hiss in irritation. “Quit it! It’s fucking freezing.”

“Yeah? Why are you wearing nothing but boxers in this cold, then?” You challenge, raising a brow as if you’ve sufficiently turned the tables on him. He glares at you—a bit cutely at that, given that his tussled hair and the blanket tucked beneath his chin both make him look far less intimidating than he hopes.

He pulls his legs away as he mutters, “Because I’m too used to sleeping like this.”

Your feet follow them as they move away from you, pressing them against his heated skin once more stubbornly. “To used to what, sleeping half naked? I wonder what that says about you.”

Money has been tighter. Enough that when you and Sukuna shower together, it really is to save water and not as an excuse for…well, other things. You don’t buy your little goods from the bakery on your way home sometimes anymore. He doesn’t go through his cigarette packs as quickly when stocking up on more isn’t as simple as it used to be. Things aren’t as easy as they used to be, but never hard.

It’s never hard with Sukuna.

Sure, the heater’s out. And December feels like a harsh, unrelenting reminder of that. The apartment is cold, but Sukuna is warmer, so maybe, when you count your blessings, you’re not doing all too bad.

“We should get the damn heating system fixed,” you say softly, smiling as he curls under the blanket further. He glowers over the edge of the comforter, just the tip of his nose peeking out as his muffled reply comes.

“Yeah, as if I hadn’t already thought of that. We ain’t got the funds, idiot.”

“Maybe I can pick up a few more shifts,” you murmur. He frowns at that—because really, that means more late nights where you’re not home where you should be. Safe and sound and not out there.

“Nah,” he mutters, clicking his teeth. You fight back a grin as he pulls you closer and tangles his legs with yours, grimacing when your painfully icy toes torment his poor legs again. This time he lets you, though. “I’ll figure something out.”

“That’s okay. You should use your money to get some clothes, or something. Sleeping naked in winter is not doing you any favors,” you giggle cheekily.

He raises a brow—that familiar, smug, almost nauseatingly handsome smile erupts across his lips as he chuckles lowly. “Yeah? You’re sayin’ you don’t appreciate the view?”

“Well, I guess that would be a pretty harsh loss,” you sigh deeply, pretending to wipe a tear. He rolls his eyes. You wink slyly. Heat trickles along your body from under your ribcage where the heating system could never reach.

“Cheeky, aren’t you?” He says gruffly, and a large hand comes to grab your face gently and press your cheeks together. Your puffed up lips make him crack a small smile.

“Mhm,” you nod, grinning (as much as you can through squeezed cheeks) before offering a muffled reply of, “I keep you on your toes, don’t I?”

“More like on my deathbed,” he snorts.

You don’t answer—it’s too cold to think of a reply right away.

You let out an involuntary shiver as a small wave of frigid, chilly air breezes through the room. You shuffle closer, and his arms are wide and open and waiting. He smells like cologne and coming home. Feels like warm flesh and your favorite place. You lean in and kiss him to share your body heat, pressing your lips against his and letting his tongue invade your mouth briefly. He tastes like mint mingled with cigarette smoke and oddly enough, that’s all you need.

“We kind of suck at this adulting thing,” you whisper as you pull away.

“What gives you that idea?” He hums as rough, callused fingers stroke the skin of your back under your shirt. You shiver again—this time from heat igniting your skin instead of the cold, though.

“We can hardly afford to stay warm,” you shake your head, “What does that say about us?”

“That we’re victims of this stupid fuckin’ economy. They should compensate us for our suffering.”

You roll your eyes and grin. You’re cold, but not devoid of heat. Sukuna is warm, and so are your toes against his calves, and so is that place in your chest that happens to do a squeeze here and there. You think it might be your heart—think he may have found his way to that weird, necessary organ in your body that keeps you going. But the difference is now that he’s here, you’re alive and not just living.

And yeah, the heater’s out. December is as cold as it is every year, and nothing’s going to change that. You can’t make yourself warmer, but you can be cold with Sukuna. That’s more than enough to make things bearable.

“I’ll keep you warm,” you offer, batting your lashes sweetly. You wrap your arms around his neck and press your lips to his cheeks in a flurry of kisses.

His face does a small, red flush.

“Quit it,” he snaps. He doesn’t mean it because his arms grip your hips tighter as if to keep you firmly in place. Right there where you are and where you belong and where he needs you to be.

You shouldn’t be anywhere else but here, keeping his body warm in this sorely harsh weather.

“Why? It’s already working—you’re overheating,” you tease.

He pulls the blanket up and between your faces to create a barrier as you come in for the next kiss, and when you laugh, bright and warm, he forgets he was ever cold.

————————————

Wrote this bc my place is freezing. Not because the heater is broken though it’s just because I’m too lazy to get out of bed and turn the heat up so I am suffering the same problem yes, but I do have a solution. That doesn’t mean the solution will be used though. I fear I am but just a girl

#rivs writing.#sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna fluff #ryomen sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna fluff #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jjk fanfic #jjk imagines #jjk oneshot #jjk x y/n #sukuna x y/n

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giantkillerjack · 4 months ago

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I've said it before and I'll say it again:

If you are disabled and you need to lie to get the accommodations you need or to escape ableist social harassment, then it is not just morally acceptable to lie in that scenario, it is morally GOOD.

I say this with no irony or satire whatsoever (unlike the original post, which is very much meant to be sarcastic).

Abled people are always trying to be the "hero" who finds the "fakers," as though "fakers" are actually a concern for disabled people. - When instead I don't know a single disabled person who hasn't been denied the care they need by being called a faker on multiple occasions. That's what we ACTUALLY live in fear of.

(Also, notably, finding the "faker" is not actually about protecting disabled people for these self-appointed "heroes". It's actually about finding an ego-boosting outlet for personal aggression and frustration. They don't care that the government has the funding to care for all of us and yet refuses. They just want to pretend this isn't about them, and are using other disabled people as a moral shield.)

Besides, every person I've met who is actually LYING about their disability has done so not because they are faking being disabled (for all the AWESOME benefits that DEFINITELY exist - ????), but because their ACTUAL disability is not taken seriously by the gatekeepers who can deny them the help they need.

Lying in this scenario protects a disabled person from stigma, injury, pain, death, and/or social neglect. This is a moral good. Lying to protect people from abuse is good, yourself included.

You shouldn't get a wheelchair, walker, cane, shower chair, or any kind of assistive technology mobility aid because then you might become dependent on them. Just like how you also shouldn't get glasses if you have bad eyesight because then you might become dependent on those.

For instance, if you end up stuck using corrective eyewear, you could actually lose your ability to tell what things are even when they are extremely blurry! You need to get used to having migraines from seeing unclearly because if you wear glasses all the time, you are basically giving up!! You don't need to see things coming at you from far away! You just need to get good at dodging, and if you can't, then you have no one to blame but yourself!!

For example, I read a really heart-worming article recently about a girl who was stuck using glasses - just absolutely, tragically trapped in her eyewear from dawn to dusk, even though she was good and never ever complained; and I heard she trained herself to discern the blurry faces of her loved ones with 60% accuracy! - she was even able to walk down the aisle at her wedding WITHOUT forcing the discomfort of seeing a woman in glasses on all her guests!!

Sure, she had to give her vows with a splitting headache, and she couldn't see her husband's expression when he said "I do," but overall, SO inspi-ration-al!!! So up-lifting!!

(She didn't even have to use a seeing eye cane, which would have been the worst-case scenario, obviously, because she worked hard to make sure she looked LESS disabled, not MORE disabled!!! Everyone knows blind people exist solely to be a cautionary tale to sighted people!!)

Also, did you know some people get glasses when they only need them a little bit?? How selfish of them! Sure, there's not a shortage, and an increase in demand would result in overall increased accessibility to glasses--but emotionally it's like taking glasses away from someone who needs them more! After all, if everyone who needed glasses got them, then...... um...... more people would have glasses! Which is probably bad!!!!

I also had a friend who was trapped in glasses who saved up all her money for laser eye surgery, and I don't know why everyone doesn't just do that! Sure, some doctors say some people don't "qualify" and it "won't help" those people, but that's why you can't give up!! You don't want to be one of those people!

After all, what's the worse thing that could happen with an unnecessary laser surgery to the face that comes with crippling debt??? It's worth the risk to gain your FREEDOM back, and I'm so proud of my friend!!

Tragically, she did die later that year while driving Uber and squinting at street signs, but at least now I know my friend is finally free from the shackles of her terrible eyesight. #ripAshley #rippedAshley #justripit 😌😌😌❤😇😇😇

And that's why you shouldn't get used to using a mobility aid!! Because, like glasses, they are inherently embarrassing to be seen with; and - like glasses - it is more noble to silently suffer than to depend on unnatural technologies that force you to rely on them!!! (Besides, everyone else will be SO much more comfortable if you look normal!)

I hope you learned something today. 💖

#original #disability #ref #might just make a separate post about this but here you go #autistic meltdowns can cause me serious nerve damage and trauma and if i have enough of them in close enough succession... death #but people don't understand that. they think it is a child's tantrum most of the time.#so i call them seizures. because functionally that's what they are. and as long as i can communicate well enough to make sure #no dumbass tries to shove a wallet in my mouth - which DOES NOT HELP SEIZURES in any case btw - then i say it's a seizure #people are nicer and more helpful and more accommodating all around. saying 'if this happens i can have a meltdown'#involves a huge amount of risk and effort for them to understand. but 'i could have a seizure' - suddenly they DO have accommodation for me #fancy that!!#if your professor is gonna be a judgy ableist bitch about you missing class from a ptsd episode (or if you don't know how they'll react)#then tell them you have the flu. no questions get asked. they don't want the flu. they'll tell YOU to stay home!#and if they are ableist then they won't secretly think you're crazy or being dramatic and weak!#I used to feel really bad about the fact that I would do that. but now I recognize that it was really smart actually and in fact good.#if someone said i can't treat your broken leg unless you also have gastrointestinal distress #then baby you better tell them you got a stomach ache #if you can only walk 20 feet but you are denied a wheelchair if you can walk more than 15 feet... no you can't.#if the fire department won't believe your house is on fire unless you say you can smell the fires of Mount Doom specifically then #by god you are Frodo with the One Ring. whatever it takes not to die in this fire.#and you don't have to feel guilty about it either. you're not the one withholding firefighting services from people with burning houses #they have enough time and money to put out all the fires in the town. they just don't want to. that's not your fault.#if the fire dept told you they'll only put out the fire in your house if it is an electrical fire then don't tell them about the grease fir #like in an ideal world we would all be totally honest all the time but in this world if your disease doesn't have the right code in #Aetna's system then they'll leave you to die idk what to tell you.#protect yourselves. protect each other. break rules. be punk.#cripplepunk #for legal reasons i am clarifying that i have never lied to an insurance company.

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planetsage · 5 months ago

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FHUCK MEEEE i need like semi-public sex with dom!choso he’s like on my mind 24/7 uhm

NEW PIN ! ꒰ 🪴 PUT THAT PUSSY ON ME𖧧˚⋆ʚɞ ── choso kamo 𝜗𝜚

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contains. 2k words + nsfw so, minors do not interact. f!reader, dom!cho, boxer!cho, established relationship, blood, sweat, semi public sex, locker room sex, f rec oral, a little ass eating (if you squint), spit, hair pulling, dirty talk, breeding, overstim, creampie, biting, cum eating.

all big-time boxers practice abstinence for at least a week before their fights; an age-old tradition that’s been torched down from talent to talent said to preserve testosterone, aggression, and most importantly, the drive to win.

it makes sense. not only on the physical side of things, but mentally. discipline — “if a player can’t handle a month or 20 days without having relations, then he’s not really ready to be a professional.”

although choso knew of this prior to becoming a fighter, his coach never actually brought it up to him until you were sat with big child-like eyes, pupils dilated as if trying to drink in every little detail, watching your amateur boyfriend practice for the first time.

it felt like a world of its own with choso sitting atop it on a blood-stained throne. the smell of leather and sweat suffused through the large dome-shaped gym, dull thuds and thumps of fists hitting bags, feet screeching sounding over music.

shirtless, choso’s muscles pumped and flexed as glossy sweat trickled down his temples, merging into rivulets that traced the contours of his face before dripping off his chin and down, down, down his battered body; each quick movement sent salty droplets flying, making dark, little circular marks on the mat.

his arms and core clenched, causing his thick biceps to swell, veins prominent beneath flushed skin like flowing riverbeds; his abs rippling with every rapid punch. the rigid meat of his heavy thighs bulged through black nylon shorts as he hopped around fluidly. dancing. it was truly hypnotic.

about halfway into his practice, you found yourself slightly tilting your head to the side in confusion as his coach moved to point at you.

me?

choso seemed annoyed, running a taped hand through his sweat-ridden hair. then he nodded before they both dispersed to start another round of sparring.

“he said i can’t fuck you anymore”

choso’s wet body clung tightly to your previously dry one, making a sticky connection as he squirted a stream of electrolyte-mixed water from a bottle he clutched with thick hands into his scarred mouth. his usually pink lips were a little red. swollen and plumped, making them jut out, begging to be kissed by your softer ones.

and he was exhausted, visibly. his body sagging when he practically mounted you as soon as he finished practicing, the musky, almost primal scent emitting from him filling your senses in a heady wave as he whined and pouted over his coach’s orders when you asked what had been said earlier, handing him a fresh towel.

“he went full authoritarian on me,” he roughly scrubbed his flushed face with the cloth before dragging it over and around his arms, then abs letting the cotton soak up his sweat, “said we can’t do anything … its so stupid, i’ve done research on it, y’know. it’s a myth”

he rambled on and on, his voice soaked in frustration, bringing up the hundreds of articles he scoured. the way he animatedly swung his arms around, bloodied lip, and still damp with sweat, made you giggle.

you leaned in to gently press a kiss to the corner of his lips. “hey, it’s okay,” you hummed soothingly, contrasting his outburst, “it’s only just before a fight. it can’t be that bad, right?”

and it wouldn’t be.

if choso’s feelings for you didn’t border obsession. he physically can’t go over a day without stuffing your pussy full of his gooey cum and he’d be dammed if some dumb ‘tradition’ that lacked the backing of science stopped him from fucking his pretty girl.

so here you are. embarrassingly parting your sticky folds with meek fingers, revealing your glossy pussy to eager, purpled eyes in the dim back corner of a stuffy locker room.

approximately … thirty seven minutes until choso’s fight.

after a verbal beating from his coach, he was, unwillingly, forced to abstain; forced to spend weeks on edge around you, to not so much as brush a finger against your soft skin because he’d get hard and shoot out hot cum untouched. and he was so close to being successful, too, but he swore he’d lose with how full and heavy his fat balls felt, nudging you into the locker room with empty promises of being “so quick”.

“just need ta taste my baby first,” his voice came out in a heavy whisper as he licked up the fat of your inner thighs, the cooled air of the cramped room circulating and brushing against your achy clit making you flinch, “poor thing .. you missed me too, hm? missed my mouth, pretty?”

“choso hur—”

“shh. ‘m not talkin’ ta you ‘m talkin’ ta her,” he was undividedly staring at your pussy as if trying to commit the filthy imagine of it leaking, clenching around nothing to memory before he rubbed the tip of his flushed nose against your pretty clit, nuzzling into that addictive scent he had been yearning for for what felt like decades.

that said, he was still taking his sweet time.

pressing almost petty pecks to your sensitive thighs, humming out a singsongy ‘aaahh’ before biting into them, leaving fresh pretty marks now that all the old ones have faded. fidgeting on his knees, probably bruising them as he drug his pudgy bulge against the tiled floor until he’s finally, finally moving to lick a long, slow stripe up your pussy, making your hips sputter and buck up against his face.

he’s so loud and messy.

eating you like he’s been starved because, well, technically, he has, “mmmmmm tas’ so fuckin’ good baby. missed— mmhhm havin’ you on my tongue”

cradling your clit with his puffy lips to firmly suck up and drool back out. viscous spit slips out from your pussy, leaving the bench all wet and sticky, so he pauses. because it’s rude to leave messes, shifting his attention from your sloppy hole to drag his tongue on the cold metal bench and clean it all up. the wet muscle brushing, slipping past your ass, making you yelp.

“choso please— hur— hurry. you’re gonna be late” with balled fists you push against his head, musing his inky black hair and if it had been under any other circumstances, he would’ve punished you for interrupting his meal. but he was going to be late, twenty three more minutes and god knows how many rounds it’s gonna take to empty his balls, so he lets you glide all over the thin ice.

just this once.

“fuck, baby, let me fuck that pussy from the front” choso stands up to shove his now tight shorts down to his ankles, his cock springing out, eagerly slapping against his stomach as precum dribbles onto his chest. “always cum so fast when m’ lookin’ at that pretty face”

he wraps his hand around his shaft to move and press his chubby tip against your little hole, scribbling all over it with a hum before leaning to spit a fat bubbly glob onto your needy pussy.

a pretty whine escapes you as you softly lift up your hips begging him to just slip it in, “quit actin so needy, ‘m riiighht here” dragging out his words, he sloowwwly lets his cockhead sink past your folds, whining at how fucking tight you are.

he missed his pretty pussy so much. so, so much.

“fuck, ‘s so big” it’s been a while since you’ve felt the stretch of his cock molding your walls to fit him making tears swell and clump up in your curled lashes as you fling your arms around the slope of his shoulders before you’re shoving your face into the side of his warmed neck.

but he said he needs to see that pretty face, so he’s quickly moving to grab a fist full of your hair, roughly pulling you back by your scalp as you squeal, your mouth falling open to let in and out deep shaky breaths, “look at me”

and he holds you there, forcing you to stare into his darkened eyes as he fully bottoms out to bully his plump, heavy cock up into you. giving you the messiest, most feral strokes. losing his mind in your pretty pussy, already twitching inside you, spilling out pearls of precum that kiss your spongy g spot.

you can’t even moan. just weakly whimpering out broken cries of his name, ”so— ch— cho ssso” as he drags his cock against your gooey walls, his left hand thumbing at your sensitive clit sparking big tears to slip down your cheeks, your eyes hazing over, starting to slip up .. and go back just a little revealing porcelain white, then a little mor-

“i said fuckin’ look at me”

he jerks your head around like some doll; again, forcing you to stare up at him as he knocks the wind out of you with every snap of his waist. and he looks dazed. his hair is messy, mussed, and tossed to his shoulders as sweat catches a few strands to curl up and stick to his temples. he’s almost pink, flushed with so much fever, fucking into your sloppy pussy as he growls, “theeeree you go. ‘m so close, baby— shit. want me to fill that pretty pussy, huh? want me to— fuuuckk pump you full of my cum? hm?”

but his feral growls start to turn into pretty little saccharine whimpers as he gets closer and closer, sputtering his rose-skinned hips, “yeah cho. give it to me— haaa mmm, wan’ it all. fill me up”

“you wan’ it all?” his grip on your hair grows tighter, vice-like, as he mocks your needy little tone with a breathy chuckle, “want me to fuck a baby into you, yeah? knock you up then go knock that fucker out?”

bobbing up and down dumbly, you nod, his words stringing in one ear and quickly out the other because it’s just so fuckin’ good.

he’s pulling you closer, closer, and closer to that edge he loves to dangle you over. “choso ‘m gonna—”

“i know, mama. can feel it. keep lookin’ at me. give it to me”

with a whimper of his name, your knees crash into each other, your toes curling as white-hot pleasure strikes like thick bolts of lightning behind your eyes.

choso’s pulling them back apart and you almost fall off the bench until he’s wrapping his thicker arms around your body to keep fucking into you, “thereee you goo, mhm. look so pretty like that baby” talking you through it so sweetly as if he’s not overstimulating you. rewiring your brain.

“shi— shit, baby fuckin’ milkin’ me .. gonna— ‘m gonna—”

groaning too loud, his hips stilled as he dumped the heavy buildup of cum into your more than welcoming pussy, his head slumping forward to bite into your shoulder and muffle himself.

he’s filling you up so well, shooting thick ropes into your pretty, satiny walls as he pulses and twitches inside you.

but he’s still so hard.

pulling out to wrap a hand around his cock, jerking himself off, roughly, it looks like it hurts, “stick your, haah fuck, stick your fuckin’ tongue out” griping as his chest caves in and heaves until he’s spilling more hot cum onto your pretty fucked out face.

his head falls back, his body swaying slightly as he catches his breath, his muscles relaxing with a heavy sigh until he leans back down to lick up his sticky mess, making you buzz with warmth, twitching at the feeling of his warm tongue. “hhnngg— choso you have to goo”

oh yeah.

he hums, a smile tugging at his lips against your skin before he reluctantly pulls back, moving to draw up his shorts, “almost forgot about that,” he grabs a handful of his messed hair to pull back up into his trademark buns, “i’ll be quick, baby. still got the taste of my good luck charm on my tongue”

not even an hour later, before you can completely clean yourself off and find your bearings, a deafening lion-like roar surges from the full crowd piercing through the thick walls of the locker room. your head quirks up, and then you hurriedly push through the door, almost jogging into the arena.

there he is.

in the center of it all looming over his opponent. the referee pulls up choso’s arm and again; the crowd erupts as the other poor soul winces, crimson-faced, red gloves covering their bloodied expression.

amidst it all, choso’s eyes find yours. he’s licking at the corner of his lips with a knowing smirk.

all big-time boxers practice abstinence for at least a week before their fights; all expect the biggest rising rookie choso kamo.

4K notes · View notes

sleepyhoon · 1 month ago

Text

TWO MOONS - L.HS

pairing. plug!heeseung x reader

genre. smut, 18+ content, one shot, drabble. MDNI!

word count. 4k+

warnings. drug & alcohol consumption, partying, swearing, sex while intoxicated, short smut [ dry humping, multiple orgasms, oral (f. receiving), fingering ]

synopsis. based off of this hard thought! plug!heeseung who likes you so much that he's convinced himself that you're kinda evil.

a/n. sorry this took so long lol hope u enjoy regardless :) no part 2 so plss dont request it but maybe some drabbles!! also not fully proofread so pls disregard any typos or grammatical errors hehe

Never in his life did Heeseung predict he’d be getting bitched around by a girl arguably much shorter, physically weaker, and far less intimidating than him. And yet here he was, shirtless in his kitchen at two in the morning on his third attempt of baking edibles all because you were too scared to smoke a little weed.

Fucking ridiculous.

It’s his own fault, really, he should’ve known that innocent, good girl persona you put on was all an act you use to control people – specifically men. Stirring the dessert batter in the mixing bowl, Heeseung shakes his head at the memory of you tilting your head and batting your eyelashes at him as you spoke, your perfectly manicured nails – that you probably got some desperate bitchboy to pay for – tracing and lightly scratching his bicep.

“So,” you started, dragging out the ‘o’, “how much do you charge for edibles?”

Heeseung shakes his head, tracing the rim of his half-empty red solo cup as he responds, “Edibles aren’t my forte. You don’t smoke?”

“Not my forte,” you say in a mocking tone, making Heeseung chuckle. “It’s just too much, you know? The smell, how quick it kicks in…not for me. But, uh, if you don’t make them I’ll stop wasting your time, then.” You give Heeseung a friendly pat on the shoulder before turning on your heels, fully prepared to disappear back into the party and find someone who actually meets your needs.

“Wait!” Heeseung stops you, tugging on your arm until you’re back to facing him. He can’t fucking believe this bullshit manipulation tactic you’re using on him is actually working, he’s literally pulling on your arm like a child so you won’t leave him.

You raise a brow at him as you wait for Heeseung to continue, taking note of his sudden nervousness, “Yeah?”

“Uh…are you into, like, brownies? Or…”

The smirk you gave in response said enough, you’ve got him exactly where you want him.

He’d spent the next few hours browsing the aisles of Target, checking his phone every so often and checking off each ingredient as he tossed them into the bright red shopping cart. To make matters worse, you hadn’t even requested normal brownies, you wanted some shit he’d hardly ever heard of before: blondies.

It was bad enough that Heeseung already couldn’t bake for shit, and here you were demanding he’d make something he’d never even tasted before; you really are a master manipulator.

His third and final attempt at baking the blondies were a success, his three roommates taste-testing the fresh batch as a final confirmation.

“I can’t even taste it,” Jake says, his brows shooting up in delight, “you sure you’re not forgetting the main ingredient?”

“That’s the whole point,” Heeseung explains, cutting the remaining batch into neat squares, “YN doesn’t want the taste to be too strong, she likes when it’s more subtle and takes awhile to kick in.”

“Are you her wife or her plug?” Sunghoon jokes from his spot on the couch, taking a small bite of his own blondie.

“Neither,” Jay inserts himself into the conversation, taking a seat next to Sunghoon, “I’m sure he wants to be both, though.”

“Fuck off,” Heeseung snaps, momentarily narrowing his eyes at his roommates. “We just met, I’m just trying to get to know her.” He sets the knife down, reaching into the wooden cabinet to retrieve ziplock bags.

“You’re already her bitch, what else is there to know?” Sunghoon half-jokes, resting his feet on the ottoman.

“I am not her bitch.”

He totally is, if the way he’s hurrying to send you a picture of the freshly made blondies is anything to go by.

Heeseung * 2:47 AM

[Attachment: 1 Image] Yooo

YN * 9:06 AM

omggggg ur the fucking best how much??

You didn’t respond until the following morning, causing Heeseung to nearly jump out of his skin once he woke up to your texts. He turns on his side, elbow propped up against the mattress as he formulates a response.

Heeseung * 10:31 AM

1 for 10 or 2 for 15. venmo or cashapp But lmk if you want more

YN * 10:40 AM

no cash? :(

Heeseung’s about to go on a long winded explanation about how money transferring apps are quicker and more convenient than accepting cash when you interrupt him by sending a photo.

YN * 10:41 AM

[Attachment: 1 Image] plsssss i don’t trust cashapp and ive been having issues w my venmo acc :(

It’s a photo of the bottom half of your face, lips formed into a cute pout with your camera angled low enough to show off your cleavage. You weren’t even trying to be discreet, setting your forearm underneath your chest to make your boobs sit higher, the cheetah print material of your bra peeking out from under your too-small tank top.

Heeseung swallows hard, staring down at the photo with his pupils blown wide as his trembling fingers type out a response.

Heeseung * 10:50 AM

Actually you know what don’t even worry about it lmao Consider it a gift When r u free for pickup Or i can bring to u Either or is fine lol

YN * 10:59 AM

omg :o are u sure? don’t want u to lose out on money >.<

Heeseung * 11:11 AM

It’s fine dw about me baby U picking up? Or want me to drop off On campus is too risky

YN * 11:12 AM

thank u hee!!!!!!! im done with classes around 4:30 i’ll pick up around then if that works also u responded at 11:11…angel number u must be my angel :o

There you go again with your subtle manipulation tactics that Heeseung swears won’t work on him. If there really is angel out of the two of you, it definitely wouldn’t be you, but Heeseung’s not too sure he’d be considered one either. After all, in the twelve minutes it took him to respond to your message, he spent ten of them fucking into his fist as he stared at the photo you sent.

His mind conjured up countless scenarios; leaving hickeys and bite marks across your chest, slipping his dick between your tits as you held them together for him, cumming all over them, fucking anything. Desperate wasn’t even the word.

Heeseung * 11:13 AM

Must be :)

After a month and a half of being your personal baker slash bitchboy, Heeseung really is convinced that you’re using him, yet he doesn’t seem to mind. If anything he’s grateful, fully aware that if it weren’t for him being your plug, the two of you likely never would’ve crossed paths despite attending the same universities.

There wasn’t an ounce of school spirit in his body, so he had little to no urgency to attend any of the sporting events you cheered at or one of the many school-sponsored events you were required to attend. Meeting you at that party not too long ago had been his first encounter with you ever, and you clearly left him with a great first impression on him.

Since that night, he’s found himself conjuring up a new batch of edibles for you every week; brownies, cupcakes, cereal bars, whatever the fuck you wanted, and half the time he’d do it for free if it meant he got to give it to you in person.

He still hasn’t convinced you to actually smoke, though, but maybe it’s for the best. The mere thought of getting high with you and how you’d stare him down with half-lidded eyes was enough to make his dick hard — in fact, it already has. Several times.

Enough time has passed to the point where it’s obvious to everyone, yourself included, that Heeseung has genuine feelings for you that go beyond a physical and sexual attraction. Sure, he’s still convinced that you’re a little bit evil and definitely manipulative, but he considers it part of the fun. He’s also deluded himself into having the “I can fix her” mindset that he’s been using to justify his actions of ignoring your red flags.

However, even if he can’t “fix” you, it wouldn’t be a huge loss. Red is his favorite color, after all.

“You sound…crazy, and she sounds crazier,” Jake leans against the kitchen counter, raising a concerned brow at Heeseung as he takes a sip of his drink.

“I’m not crazy,” Heeseung corrects, “and YN is…I don’t know, honestly. Leave her alone, dipshit.”

Jake throws a hand up in defense, glaring when a fellow partygoer accidentally bumps into him, nearly causing him to spill his drink. “Rather be a dipshit than a bitchboy.” He mutters loud enough for Heeseung to hear before groaning, “Wow, speak of the devil.”

Heeseung turns, following Jake’s line of sight until he spots you walking through the front door. Stunning as always, your khaki mini skirt and black halter top fitting as if they were custom designed for you and only you.

Despite extending you an invitation to Sunghoon’s birthday party, Heeseung was fairly certain you wouldn’t show up tonight, assuming you’d be consumed with cheer practice or one of your many extracurricular activities to attend. Yet, here you were, a wicked grin on your face as you made eye contact with Heeseung.

He gulps in return, eyes wide as he watches you walk over to him and Jake.

You stand beside Heeseung, shooting him a quick smile before directing your attention to Jake, “Sunghoon! Happy birthday, king!”

Jake side-eyes you, briefly glancing at Heeseung before responding, “I’m not…you know what? Nevermind, thanks.” He takes this as an opportunity to exit the conversation, giving Heeseung a light pat on the shoulder as he leaves.

“Didn’t think you’d be here.” Heeseung comments, leaning against the kitchen countertop.

You shrug, “Wasn’t doing anything else, figured it wouldn’t hurt to stop by for a little. Besides, I wanted to see you.”

“Yeah?” Heeseung asks, tongue darting out to lick his lips.

“Yeah,” you respond, taking a step closer and resting your hand on his bicep, “got anything for me?”

Fuck, Heeseung knew he should’ve made another batch of brownies or some shit. He seriously hadn’t been expecting you to show up tonight, otherwise he would’ve been prepared.

He shakes his head, “Not this time, you should’ve told me you were coming; I would’ve made something.”

You groan, momentarily tilting your head back, “I just wanted to surprise you.”

“Consider me surprised,” his hand lands on your waist, pulling your body until your flush against him, “why won’t you just smoke with me?”

You grimace, shaking your head in response.

Heeseung rolls his eyes, “Just once? I know your first time wasn’t that great, but, I really think you’d like it if you tried again.”

“I don’t know, Hee…”

“Tell you what,” Heeseung starts, clearing his throat, “smoke with me just this once, and your next few purchases are on me.”

It isn’t much of an offer considering most of the shit he gave you was either free or already extremely discounted, but your eyes light up regardless. “Really?”

Heeseung nods, “I swear.”

You think it over for a moment, the pros instantly outweigh the cons and lead you to accept Heeseung’s desperate offer.

A few minutes later, you find yourself in a comfortable lounge chair with Heeseung in his backyard, grateful that the remaining partygoers opted to stay indoors, giving you privacy and alone time with him.

You’re sitting sideways on his lap, trying your best to ignore the feeling of his dick pressing right against your ass, neatly rolled blunt in one hand as he uses the other to fish a lighter from his pocket. “You’re nervous,” he comments.

You shake your head, “I’m not.”

“You are, I feel you shaking.”

“I’m fine, just kinda cold. Go on.”

Heeseung studies you for a moment, eye contact strong and intimidating as ever as he brings the blunt to his parted lips. You watch carefully as he brings the lighter towards the tip, focusing entirely too much on the concentrated look on his face as he lights it. Slowly, he begins to rotate it as the end continues to burn, taking a few small puffs here and there.

Satisfied with his creation, Heeseung takes a long, slow drag, inhaling the smoke into his lungs before titling his head away to exhale.

“Your turn,” he says, offering you the blunt.

You hesitantly stare down at it before accepting; it was intimidating to say the least, the scent alone strong enough to make your head hurt. Heeseung watches you patiently, eyes darting between your lips and the blunt in silence.

Deciding you need a little bit of encouragement, he brings his thumb to your lips, parting them slightly as his free-hand wraps around your wrist, “You’ll be fine, trust me.”

Under the guidance of his calloused hand, you finally bring the blunt up to your lips and briefly inhale before immediately exhaling.

Heeseung chuckles, shaking his head, “How’d that feel?”

You ponder for a moment, passing the blunt back to Heeseung, “I don’t feel anything. Literally nothing.”

“I mean, yeah, you didn’t even inhale it.”

You roll your eyes, “Why are there so many steps? This is why I prefer edibles.”

“I’m just showing you that you have other options, babe.”

“Yeah, well I’m sticking to my baked goods. You can have the rest of that, I don’t want anymore.”

Heeseung’s well aware that you’re a woman of your word, and the chances of you ever smoking again were a definite zero, so trying to get you to change your mind was pointless. However, there is one thing that may just work on you.

“Mind if I try something?”

You perk up, “Try what?”

“I do all the work but you still get high.”

You raise a brow, “That’s possible?”

He nods, “All you’d have to do is take deep breaths.”

Taking a deep breath, you accept Heeseung’s offer with a sigh, resting a hand on his shoulder as you adjust yourself on his lap. “Fine.”

Here goes nothing.

He guides the blunt back to his lips, taking a long drag as he holds the smoke in his mouth. He tilts his head upward towards you, taking your chin in his hand, signaling for you to part your lips. You follow his command and part your lips open, just enough for Heeseung to close the distance and allow the smoke into your mouth, his lips barely brushing against yours in the process.

You take in a deep breath, eyes closed shut and inhale the smoke, careful not to exhale too quickly and have a repeat of your previous attempt.

“How was that?” Heeseung asks, taking note of your sudden silence.

Truthfully, it wasn’t bad. The smell is still too strong for your liking and requires much more effort than biting off a piece of dessert and calling it a day, but it wasn’t bad. You’re certain that Heeseung shotgunning it into your mouth only added to the experience.

“Not bad,” you admit, “probably because you did all the work.”

He chuckles at that, “I’ll always take care of you, remember that.”

Heeseung is having the time of his life, thoroughly convinced that he finally has some power over you. Here you were sitting on his lap in his backyard letting him blow smoke into your mouth. Sure, it may have taken a lot of convincing and begging on his end to get to this point, but none of that matters; baby steps are still movement.

As if the night couldn’t have gotten any better, you’re asking Heeseung to shotgun more smoke into your mouth over and over. He’s careful to maintain a calm and nonchalant demeanor as he does so, not wanting to come off as too eager out of fear of scaring you away. Or even worse, giving you back that power you have over him.

On the fifth time, you swipe your tongue across Heeseung’s bottom lip when he passes the smoke into your mouth, a low groan escaping from him in the process. He’s fully hard in his jeans by now, and there’s no way you can’t feel his dick pressing right into you. Despite the cold weather, your entire body feels warm all over, Heeseung only adding to the pleasure.

You should’ve taken Heeseung a bit more seriously when he said you’d still get high from this; after a few minutes, your limbs were already starting to feel lighter and weaker. A delicate, cloud-like haze fills your head; your vision blurs slightly and it takes a few minutes for you to fully relax.

Heeseung, attentive as ever, remains silent and still has he watches you; primarily due to the fact that you squirming around on his lap is only adding to the uncomfortable tightness in his jeans. One wrong move, and he’d surely be cumming in his boxers.

You rest your forehead against Heeseung, pressing a firm hand against his chest when he moves to blow more smoke into your mouth. He hums, staring up at with a concerned look on his face.

You close your eyes, mumbling, “Heeseung…”

He hums again in response, still holding the smoke in his mouth.

You open your eyes briefly before closing them again, balling up the collar of his shirt in your fist as you lean down to press your lips against his. He opens his mouth on instinct, as if it were a second nature, parting his lips slightly and exhaling the smoke into your mouth once again.

Heeseung absentmindedly sets the blunt down, his hands moving to your waist to pull you closer to him until your tits are pressed right up against his chest. He groans into your mouth at the feelings, tilting his head to allow himself further into your mouth.

You cup his face in your hands, hips moving forward as you slowly begin to grind yourself against him. “Fuck,” he moans in a low voice, “keep doing that.”

You grind down harsher this time, capturing his moan in your mouth in the process. With each movement of your hips, a shiver descends down your spine at the friction; Heeseung is painfully hard, and from what you could feel, he was definitely packing. Bigger than what you would’ve expected.

It all feels too good; you grinding against him, the state of his high, your tongue in his mouth. It’s all so overwhelmingly euphoric that Heeseung hardly realizes how close he is to literally cumming in his boxers.

His body was always overly sensitive whenever he got high, and often avoided any sort of intimacy that involved another person due to how embarrassingly quick he would finish, and tonight doesn't seem to be any different. What makes matters worse is the fact that Heeseung was already desperately attracted to you and had been dreaming of this moment since he’d first met you.

He pulls away quickly, cursing under his breath, “YN, h-hold on,” he stutters, “slow down, please.”

You don’t listen; in fact, you can barely even hear him with how caught up you were in your own head. “Hmm? Say that again?”

“S-slow – ah, fuck – slow down for a sec, baby.”

His grip on your waist tightens, and despite the urgency in his tone of wanting you to slow down, he makes no effort to still your hips move you off of him. Fuck it, it is what it is.

“Why?” You question, tilting your head, but you’re a few seconds too late.

Heeseung’s entire body shivers, hips jolting upwards as he comes on himself, making a mess of his boxers. While that alone was definitely embarrassing, Heeseung is more annoyed over the fact that you’ve regained your power over him. His priorities were definitely fucked, but he didn’t even care; he could clean himself up later, but the damage to his ego would take longer to repair.

Your hands fly to your mouth in shock, eyes widening as you process what’s just happened, “Oh, Heeseung…” you mumble into the palm of your hands.

He throws his head back, eyes squeezed shut as he runs a hand down his face, “You’ve gotta be fuckin’ kidding.”

“It’s okay! It happens! No big deal!” You try to reassure him, but it goes in one ear and out the other.

Sure it happens and maybe it isn’t a big deal, but it is for Heeseung. He’s not the type to bust a nut over someone squirming around in his lap for ten minutes, this shit was fucking insanity.

“I’m seriously not like this, I’m just overly-sensitive when I’m high. I swear, I-”

“It’s fine, Heeseung,” you interrupt, standing from his lap, “if anything, I’m flattered! Why don’t you, uh, get cleaned up and I’ll see you later?”

“YN, come on, don’t do this.” He pleads, following you and you make your way towards the sliding door.

“I told you, it’s fine! I’m not like,” you pause, opening the door with a loud grunt, “mad or weirded out or anything.”

You slip back into the living room, Heeseung hot on your tail with every step. “Let me make it up to you!”

You sigh, “Honestly, I don’t think you have it in you to do that right now.”

“I do! Just let me, please.”

“Heeseung, please drop it. I said it’s fine.”

“It’s not fine, at least let me eat you out or something!”

“Heeseung!” Your eyes widen at his lewd, shameless offer, “Lower your voice! We’re in a fucking party surrounded by people!”

He smacks his teeth, “I don’t care. Please, YN.”

“You don’t have to make it up to me, you do not owe me anything.”

A beat of silence passes, then he says, “Then do it for me. Please.”

Even though Heeseung was the one literally begging to go down for you, there is a possibility of him having some sort of power over you; or maybe you just have a soft spot for him. Either way, you end up lying in his bed twenty minutes later, skirt bunched up around your waist as Heeseung’s wet tongue circles your clit, desperate attempt at coaxing a second orgasm from you.

He hadn’t even realized he’d grown hard again just from eating you out, and would likely end up cuuming in his boxers again just from doing this.

“Fuck,” he moans into your folds, pulling away slightly to pepper kisses on your inner thighs, “been waiting so fucking long for this.”

“Yeah?” You question, your grip on Heeseung’s hair tightening.

This earns a low groan from him as he nods against your skin, “You have no idea.”

Deciding he’s spent enough time away from your cunt, his lips make their way back onto you; his tongue falls flat against you, dragging your wetness upwards towards your swollen clit before wrapping his lips around the sensitive bud.

Your body shivers, a beam of sweat dripping down your forehead as your second orgasm approaches. You’ve been eaten out before, countless times, but never like this. It was almost as if Heeseung was doing it for his own pleasure rather than your.

He teases your entrance with his finger before sliding two of them in with ease, curling them upwards and immediately hitting the spot you needed him the most.

“H-Heeseung…hold on…”

He hums, but he’s not really listening, too occupied with kitten-licking your clit and pumping his fingers in and out of you. The knot in your stomach finally snaps and you’re gushing against his hands and mouth, Heeseung only takes this as a sign to continue lapping at your cunt. You have to literally grab him by the hair and drag him away from you.

He stares up at you, pupils blown wide and his chin coated in your juices, but he definitely looks happy. “What?” he asks.

You struggle to catch your breath, “You’re hard again?”

He looks down at his crotch momentarily before shrugging, “I guess.”

“You…don’t you wanna do something about that?”

His eyes flash down to your cunt for a split second, “It can wait.”

You scoff, “Well, I need a minute.”

Heeseung nods in agreement, impatiently drumming his fingers on his bed as you flop against his mattress. “Ready?” He asks once a minute has passed.

“No.”

He sighs, then sighs again, and again and again until you let out a frustrated groan. “Go get me a glass of fucking water.”

“Okay!” He shouts while standing, exiting the bedroom in a hurry. Maybe you really do treat him like a bitchboy, but he doesn’t seem to mind.

#enhypen imagine #enhypen smut #enhypen scenarios #lee heeseung #lee heeseung imagine #lee heeseung smut #heeseung x reader #kpop imagine #kpop smut #kpop scencario #jake sim #park sunghoon #park jongseong

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writtenapoiogy · 5 months ago

Text

longfully awaited; jacaerys velaryon

pairing: jacaerys velaryon x f!reader

summary: sequel to patience running thin. the wedding night.

word count: 2.2k

warnings: nsfw, 18+, smut, MINORS DNI, SWEET MARRIED JACEXREADER, nerves, oral (f receiving), fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, hair pulling (who wouldn't when his hair is that beautiful), some dirty talk, high valyrian used and i think that's it

a/n: the much anticipated sequel i am so sorry for the wait. i really hope everyone enjoys this!! (barely proofread i will go through it after work tomorrowww)

READ PART ONE HERE

“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about that night.” You whispered to your now husband.

Your wedding ceremony had taken place at Aegon’s Garden at Dragonstone. It was just your parents and the Queen and Jacaerys’ little siblings. The day was full of love and there wasn’t one dark cloud in the sky. Your mother believed it to be a good omen for your future marriage.

The two of you were now at your wedding feast and you couldn’t help but think of the duties to take place once the two of you leave. You spoke to Rhaenyra before the wedding discussing your discomfort with the normal bedding ceremony. She immediately made sure nothing of the sort would take place.

Jacaerys smirked before responding into your ear. “Just a little bit longer, my sweet.” He grabbed your hand and rested them in your lap.

The two of you endured about another fifteen more drunk congratulations that had come your way before Jace rose and announced your departure to everyone. You stood joining him and bid farewell to all of your guests, bowing at your queen.

Jacaerys held your hand firmly as he guided you down the corridor to your newly shared bedchamber. You both were riddled with excitement. You two would finally be one together.

When you arrived Jace pressed you against the door, eager to feel you against him. He placed his lips upon yours in a fiery kiss.

The air in your lungs left you, making you dizzy.

Jacaerys was an all-consuming heat. His lips were hot almost searing. Your hands were tracing all over his clothed chest. You wanted to feel his warmth against you. You let out a moan against his lips. At that Jace moved his hand towards the door handle and the two of you stumbled in.

Jacaerys hands were gripping the back of your dress. “You do not know how long I have wanted this. How bad I have needed this.”

“I could probably take a guess, Husband.” You lifted your head up and smiled at him, getting just a tad bit closer to him. Close enough for him to smell your intoxicating scent.

He placed his hands on your cheeks, dropping his head down, reconnecting your lips. He deepened your kiss. You parted your lips allowing his tongue to slip in and glide across yours. He moved his hands to the back of your dress. He was desperately trying to remove the article of clothing that was keeping your full beauty away from him.

Jace began to tug your corset strings free. Being as impatient as he is, he tore open the back of your dress.

You gasped against his open mouth. Your dress slid past your shoulders and fell, pooling at the bottom of your feet. You felt goosebumps litter your body when a particularly cold breeze flew through your window.

Jace’s eyes fell down to your now hardened buds. He couldn’t help but reach his hand out, letting his thumb graze the side before his hand slid down your waist. “Mmm. They are perfect. You are perfect.” Jacaerys took in your bare beauty. He could not believe himself to be so lucky to be wed to you.

You could melt at his words. His voice like silk. “You are wearing too much clothing, Husband.” Your hands scrambled to undress his top half. Jacaerys groaned at the term Husband. He never thought hearing you say that would make ignite the way it did. His hand shuffled down to rid himself of his pants.

Your eyes slowly glazed over his body. Taking in everything about him. The cut of his abs. Then they landed upon his cock. You had spoken to your mother about the whole… marital act. However, you weren’t quite sure how this wouldn’t cause you pain, you blanched at the thought.

Jacaerys took note of your expression. He pulled you closer to him so that all the two of you could see were each other’s faces. No need to stress over the act. “My love. You do not need to worry. I will take care of you.” He placed a kiss on your soft swollen lips.

“B-but, I do no-,” You stammered.

“Do you trust me?” His eyes stared into yours with such intensity. All you could do was swallow your words and nod. He kissed you again, “Good.”

You both stepped outside of the pile of clothes that were now surrounding you on the floor. Jacaerys guided you to the side of the bed. You both climbed in with Jacaerys hovering over you. He placed soft kisses all over your face. He bent his head down towards your ear and whispered to you how beautiful you are. His words and actions made your heart flutter and that familiar burn in your stomach start to churn.

“I wish to learn all about your body. Wish to touch you. All of you. Every square inch of your body.” He began to pepper kisses all along you. Down your neck. Across your chest, leaving fleeting kisses on your nipples, causing you to arch your back against him.

You ran your fingers through his hair, lifting his head slightly. “We have our whole lives for that Jacaerys. Please. I need you. I have needed you for so long.”

“Very well, My wife.” He kissed your forehead before he moved down, coming to a halt right in front of your heat. “However you can not deny me this.”

Jace’s face was burrowed into your cunt in seconds. You gasped as he tested the waters. He was licking and sucking every part of your cunt, listening to your responses. He licked a stripe from your entrance to your clit that had you shuddering. Jacaerys had a skillful tongue. Whether that be negotiating with vassals or in the martial bed.

You ran your fingers through his curls and gripped with all your might. “Jacaerys,” You moaned.

At the sound of your pleasure, he slipped a finger inside of your warmth. He groaned against your clit feeling your tightness. It made his dick twitch, but he ignored it. His focus was on you right now. Making sure you were comfortable and ready for him.

Jace continued to pump his finger into you. He didn’t add another finger till your juices were dripping down his palm. He hummed against your clit as he coaxed sweet moans out of you with his fingers. They were rubbing against the inside of your walls so nicely.

You felt yourself reaching dangerously close to your peak. You started to grind your core against Jacaerys tongue. He stilled himself allowing you to use him to reach your climax. Your face was contorted struggling to come.

Jacaerys, whose eyes were staring at you observing your face closely, closed his mouth over your clit and began to suck. As you continued to fuck yourself on his fingers, you felt your orgasm run through your body in a hot wave of pleasure that covered your whole body.

After your climax, your hips continued to grind down onto his fingers. They were still inside you, stretching you to perfection for him. He knew you needed him. He could feel how needy you were for him. Once wasn’t enough and it never would be for you. You could see yourself being victim to his pleasure for as long as you both shall please.

“That was so good my love,” Jacaerys said as he went to hover over you. His fingers never left your heat pumping into you slowly. Your juices from your orgasm created a squelching sound, which embarrassed you just a bit.

You turned your head from him as he entered your space. The scent of your arousal was strong on his face.

“You shouldn’t be embarrassed. This is something so beautiful. You do not have to shy away from it, my wife. We are doing our marital duty.” He laid his lips upon yours in a hot wet kiss. You could taste yourself on his tongue and lips. Jacaerys kissed down the side of your cheek to your neck. He sucked on the patch of skin right below your ear.

Your legs spread even wider for him. Accepting him in between your thighs. He regrettably removed his fingers from your sopping cunt. The both of you gasped when he leaned forward, his cock slid through your folds, the tip swiping your clit.

“Fuck,” Jacaerys rasped in your ear. He knew after feeling your slick heat against his cock that he was ruined. Laying with you was going to knock his world off its axis. “Do you feel ready to take me, my sweet?”

Your mother had informed you how horseback riding helps breakdown the barrier within you which should help ease the pain. But the uncertainty still ran through your body making you tense. “As ready as I believe I can be.”

Jace kissed the side of your ear. “Just relax. I got you.” He whispered.

His sweet words melt into your bed. You two were skin-to-skin. Completely bare. Jacaerys lined himself up to your entrance. He then moved his hand from around himself to rub his thumb along the side of your stomach, trying to calm you from the intrusion. He lifted himself on his unoccupied arm. He wanted to stare into your eyes as he entered you for the first time.

Jacaerys mouth fell agape when the tip of his cock finally breached through your entrance. Thanks to Your Husband, he slid into you with almost no resistance. Your warm wet walls inviting him in. “Fuck, ao issi vok.” You are perfect.

“Oh, gods.” You mewled once you felt him in you completely.

“Look at me, My Wife.”

Your eyes met his but only for a short second. He began to thrust into you and you squeezed your eyes shut. The stretch of his hard cock was a bit much. All of your other senses were drowned out by the overwhelming feeling of lust and pleasure. All you could feel was the push and pull of him inside of you.

“You feel so good.” He helped ease you around his cock before he spoke again. “Please try, my love. Look me in the eyes while I fuck you”

Your eyes shot open at his words. He dropped his forehead to yours and kept a slow pace. Little whimpers and whines left your mouth. Your eyebrows furrowed at the pleasure you were now receiving. Your eyes never left the princes usually hazel eyes. Which were now filled with lust.

“That’s my girl.” He felt you clamp down around him and he let out an unkingly sound. He knew you were close. Your heat was pulling him deeper inside of you. You were getting wetter with each thrust.

“Jacaerys.” You warned

“Oh, I love the way you moan my name. Fuck, I’m not going to last much longer.” Jace removed his head from yours and nestled it into your neck. You two were emitting such a lovely scent. It pleased his nose and made his body feel like molten lava. It made him want to ravish you and spill his seed inside of you.

He moved his hips to a slight angle so that every time he entered you, he hit that sweet spot deep within your heat.

“Jace! Fuck. Right there.” Your hands were everywhere on him. Scratching down his back. Running your fingers through his beautiful brown locs.

“Nyke gīmigon. Fuck, nyke gīmigon.” He growled against your neck in High Valyrian. I know. Fuck, I know.

Jace needed you to come before him. He was feeling so much pleasure. His hand never would compare to this. If he came before you he might faint before you get the chance to finish. He brought one hand down to rub your sensitive bud at the same time he began to suck the flesh of your neck.

“Jacaerys! Oh, Gods!” You screamed into your hot chambers. You were overcome with pleasure. You began to tremble under your husband.

Jacaerys was quick to follow behind you. Spilling his seed with one last hard thrust. “Fuck.”

Jace waited till you both came down from your highs to pull his limp cock out of you. You winced and he hissed at the feeling. Jacaerys got out of bed and brought a cloth to clean the both of you. Once he had finished and kissed you everywhere he could reach and he got you both under the covers.

You rested your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. He laid there running his hand up and down your arm. “I could lay like this forever, with you by my side.”

“I could not ask for a better side to be mushed upon, My Future King.” You beamed at your husband.

Jacaerys chucked. “I love you, My Future Queen.”

“Avy jorrāelan tolī, Valzȳrys.” I love you more, Husband.

Jace’s eyes widened. That was the first time you had ever spoken High Valyrian. You sounded lovely. He looked at you as if you had just mounted a Dragon. Bewildered and all the more in love.

“I have been practicing with Your Mother. She wishes for me to learn your language just as much as you do. She is a wonderful teacher.” You spoke kindly about your new mother-in-law.

He couldn’t think of anything else but to kiss you before sleep took the both of you.

#jacaerys velaryon #house of the dragon #jacaerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys velaryon smut #jacaerys x reader #jacaerys targaryen #jacaerys targaryen smut #prince jacaerys #hotd jacaerys

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moonlight-prose · 4 months ago

Note

smut prompt #8 for logan 👀💗

forty five minutes in the closet

a/n: not me literally writing this in right where you left me ch4. hilarious and iconic timing, because i was fighting the urge to just have them fuck full on in that closet. so here's my chance to do just that. for funsies i'm shoving it into that universe. do not look at me for using that gif. i literally can't deny myself the sight.

summary: an alternative scene to what really happened in that closet.

OR wade wilson forces logan to play seven minutes in heaven. (it was longer than seven minutes if we're being honest.)

word count: 2.6k+

pairing: logan howlett x f!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI, exhibitionism, dirty talk, logan is filthy af and we love that, spit, fingering sort of, p in v sex, quickie, rough sex, biting, he's down bad for his honey what can i say, panty gag, a formal apology for how fucking horny and unhinged this is.

The closet felt smaller than intended—even as your back was pressed to the wall hard enough to feel the cracks in the drywall that stretched to the ceiling. Laughter filtered through the thin wooden door as Wade told yet another joke about shit you couldn't discern. Even if you asked him to explain, you'd still be confused come morning.

Logan leaned heavily against his side of the closet. Approximately two feet of space between you. The tips of your shoes touched his boots. The faint scent of cigar smoke still lingered from where he ripped it out and tossed it in an ashtray. You wouldn't have cared if he smoked in here. You might have asked for a puff.

He insisted on keeping the air clean in case you had to breathe.

Wade claimed you were playing seven minutes in heaven. Seven minutes of alone time with the man who made your head spin. In a proximity close enough to feel the heat of his body from where you stood. Although you'd been standing there for four minutes (you were keeping count via the watch on Logan's wrist) and the group seemed to have forgotten about the both of you entirely.

"Do you—um—know what usually happens here?"

A smile curved on his lips—eyes scrutinizing you with a look that told you he was teasing you. "Yeah. I do. I'm old, not stupid."

"I just wanted to make sure..." In a swift move you barely saw, he rose to his full height and crossed the invisible line holding the two of you on opposing sides. "Oh–"

"Honey." His voice was low, yet you felt as if he was screaming in your ear.

"Yes?" you breathed—eyes fixed on the way his chest took up your space. His flannel was stretched across it and for a moment you wondered if you started salivating at the sight.

"Are you nervous?"

Another raucous round of laughs broke through the darkness that surrounded you. But you could barely hear them over the echo of your own heart. It hammered loudly against your chest—quickening the closer he got. The more his large frame began to engulf you in a warmth you only dreamed of. You clamored to come up with a response, to flippantly push off his advance with a tease of your own.

His hands pressing on either side of your head to the wall behind you killed every ounce of bravery you had left. All your worries and thoughts about what lay on the other side of that door were extinguished. Logan leaned down, his nose brushed yours, and inhaled deep enough to steal the breath from your lungs.

"I can smell you," he rumbled. "Sweet like honey."

A searing heat built beneath your skin, burning from your cheeks down to the tips of your toes. Your mouth opened—words still fighting to be formed—but he didn't need an answer. Not when he could smell the arousal that pooled between your thighs. How you subtly shifted to find a bit of friction in the hopes of something more.

"You mind if I kiss you bub?"

A piece of you fractured in the darkness of that closet—settling comfortably in his own chest. You might ask for it back after all of this, but Logan felt his chances of you walking out as his were growing the longer this went on.

Glancing up—eyes wide and darkened with lust—you bit back the whine that crawled up the back of your throat. "They'll hear us."

He shrugged, shifting close enough for you to almost taste the whiskey off his lips. "Good."

"Logan–"

Lips pressed to your cheek, drawing a soft sigh from your parted mouth. "Somethin' tells me they're just waiting for it." His hand left the wall to trail along your waist, dipping slowly with a kiss to the corner of your lips. "And somethin' also tells me...you like that idea."

It's not as if you were entirely opposed to the idea. Actually most nights (if not every night) was spent with you imagining what it would be like to feel him this way. To be stretched with his cock so much you would feel a delicious burn.

You craved it.

He knew solely from the wanton look on your face. The way your eyes fluttered the further his hand went.

"You gonna let me in or what honey?" he cooed, fingers dipping beneath your skirt to seek out the slick that soaked the lace of your underwear.

Surely the seven minutes had run out, leaving the both of you to make a choice. Stay here and keep going for everyone to catch you. Or walk out, find a room, and continue this in private.

The thought of waiting a second longer snapped at your heels with an air of impatience you let consume you. What the fuck did it matter if they heard you getting fucked against the wall? What did it matter if you'd never live this down as long as you lived?

How could you actually think about shame when Logan's fingers were pressed against your dripping cunt, seeking out your clit through the thin fabric that divided you.

Sagging against the wall with a soft moan, you gripped his flannel in your fist and yanked his lips to yours. He groaned, falling into your body and effectively pinning you to the wall, as his tongue met yours. And suddenly you realized...you liked how whiskey tasted off of his tongue.

He devoured you with the kiss, swallowing each moan and stunted whine as his fingers made quick work of finding your clit. Rubbing quick circles, he plunged his tongue into your mouth - licking at your teeth with a fervor that seeped down into your stomach. It was messy. His spit mixed with yours, staining the skin of your cheek. Your slick coated the inside of your thighs as he pushed the fabric into you roughly.

Yet none of it felt enough to ease the ache that spread rapidly down to the tips of your fingers. Your heart twisted as he gripped the back of your neck—leading you in a kiss that divulged down to nothing but teeth and spit.

You wrapped an arm around his shoulders, your leg hooking around his hip, in the hopes of dragging him closer. To feel the hard bulge against the rough denim of his jeans.

"Look at you," he mumbled against your cheek. "All pretty and leakin' for me."

A sharp burst of need pulled tight at your stomach—the breath torn from your lungs. "Inside–"

He smiled. "C'mon honey. Use that smart head of yours. Gimme some words."

His words were a brutal tease that scraped against your skin. Yet that coupled with his fingers that seemed to hold an edge of desperation, left you gasping for air. Fingers dug into his shirt, lips found his in the hollow darkness, and you begged for mercy. This was your penance. The altar he intended to bend you across.

Oh how you longed for him to follow through.

"Fuck me," you managed to get out between sharp intakes of breath and heady kisses. "Please Logan. It hurts.

The sound that emanated from deep in his chest could only be described as feral. You'd never heard him like that before. Bordering on the line of unhinged and sanity. A flare of want pulled at your body, echoing loudly in your chest.

You wanted to hear it again. To feel him break beneath your palms as he rutted into you with need. You ached to watch him whittle himself down to the barest of his senses. The animalistic urge of lust he kept hidden for weeks on end.

"Yeah?" His words were a snarl against your ear, teeth scraping your jaw as he ripped his hand away. "'M gonna make it better. Gonna take away the pain."

Nails scratched at the back of his neck when you heard his claws slide out—cutting through the fabric that clung to you. It was sopping wet; proof that you hadn't in fact been lying about your need. Logan felt his cock leak in his jeans at the sight—how your slick clung to his fingers as he swiped along the gusset.

"All for me," he sighed.

"Uh-huh." If you thought you sounded needy before, that was nothing compared to this moment.

He eyed you briefly. The hazel you'd grown fond of now dark and clouded with lust. The plea for more lay on the tip of your tongue—ready to be laved against his skin the longer he took. But then he brought the fabric to his mouth, his tongue running across it with a broken groan. The breath was punched from your lungs—legs shaking as a wave of slick poured out of you.

"Oh fuck–" you gasped, cupping his chin to catch his lips in a kiss.

The clink of his belt buckle echoed like a gunshot in the small space. Your heart began to race. Fingers shaking as you watched him tug his cock free; fisting the red and leaking tip with a throaty moan. Saliva filled your mouth at the mere thought of him sliding between your lips. The image of him feeding you his cock with a smile.

He fanned the flames of your simmering fire, offering you pleasure with ease.

His hand gripped your other leg, positioning it over his hip before pushing you up along the wall. The yelp was muffled by his lips; your hands finding purchase against his hot skin.

"Gotta be real quiet now bub," he mumbled, sliding his cock along your drenched cunt.

The head tapped against your clit once, twice. By the third time your teeth were dug into your bottom lip so hard copper burst on your tongue.

"I promise."

He chuckled, breathless. You joined.

The compact space stretched out before you, expanding with each joined breath and laugh. Passion intertwined in your chest, reaching for him with a tender touch of reverence. And nothing existed but the two of you.

"Hey Logan."

His cock jumped at the sound of your voice so light and airy. "Yeah honey?"

"If I don't tell you after this." Your hips canted into his, grinding towards where he positioned himself. "I had a really nice time tonight."

His heart fluttered as your words settled into his skin—soaking up your warmth. "Me too."

The laughter diminished the second he pushed forward, sliding into you with a slickened thrust that left his body shuddering. You swallowed the sob that wrenched from your chest when he kept going. Stretching you until you felt the burn begin to seep into your body. You weren't prepared for how addicting it felt; how mindless he made you.

Seven minutes had surely blended into fifteen, giving the group no doubt of what you were doing. That only solidified when he bottomed out and you moaned so loud it nearly gave him a heart attack. His fingers clamored for something in his pocket—his lips sliding against yours to silence the endless whimpers. He filled you until you saw white behind your eyes each time they fluttered closed.

"They're gonna hear ya," he muttered. You caught a flash of lace before it was being pressed to your lips—willing you to part them and hold the fabric between your teeth.

Logan gave you one minute to find your brain in the muddled thoughts that filled you, before pulling out. Only to slam back in. Your cry was muffled—eyes rolled back—and he felt a searing triumph begin to form in his chest. At the sight of you in a messy state of bliss.

His hips slapped against yours, the wet slide of your cunt a loud echo. Adding to the symphony of his groans and your whimpered sounds. Your spit soaked into the lace, fingers digging hard along the planes of his back, and he felt you gush at the feel of his teeth sinking into your neck.

"So fuckin' sweet for me," he grunted, cupping your ass to push you back and forth on his cock. A shift in the angle had you going dumb. Eyes wide and glazed with tears. "My pretty girl huh?"

Fuck you wanted to scream. You longed to hear his name bounce off the closet walls and spill into the foyer of Wade's damn apartment. To remind them that time was still passing and their limit had reached the vastness of infinity.

He pounded into you with sharp gasps of praise, words that fell on ears deafened by the rush of blood that ran right to your head. Oxygen felt secondary when his cock kissed the wall of your cunt with such accuracy it left you blinded. Enough to have you sobbing into the spit soaked lace - tears spilling down your cheeks.

"You take it like it was fuckin' made for you yeah?"

You nodded, breasts bouncing as he fucked you along his cock—his other hand pressed to the wall. You took it like it was made for you, because it was made for you. Logan belonged to you. Whether he knew it now or not.

"I can feel you squeezin' me," he gasped. "Gonna cum?"

"Mhm," you mumbled, the squelch of your cunt loud enough to block out the laughter from the outside.

"Then do it honey." His thumb found your clit, swirling it with sharp pointed circles. Your toes curled in your shoes—head falling back to the wall with a soft thud. "That's it. Fuckin' cum for me."

"Mmff–" A sob of what morphed into his name tore from the depths of your body. Rendering you a shaky mess in his arms as you clamped down around his cock.

Slick poured out of you, coating the hair along the base of his stomach in your essence. Logan growled at the sight. His eyes narrowed and teeth bared with each stunted thrust of his hips into yours. Claws punctured the drywall behind you as a way to keep his body level. To ground himself as he came with a hoarse groan he quickly muffled into the top of your breast.

Grinding into you, he emptied himself entirely. Rope after rope of his spend now filling you to the point of dripping down to his balls.

You felt the need to drop to your knees and taste him.

To clean him entirely and place him neatly back in his jeans. But the movement of your body no longer remained an option—your legs numb and back sore from being pounded into the wall.

He removed the gag with a huff, kissing you gently with his thumbs pressed to the tops of your cheeks. A soft caress. A contract to the rough way he manhandled you.

"I can't feel my legs," you sighed into his mouth, tongue swiping along his bottom lip.

"You're not supposed to." The weak slap to his chest had him laughing louder than intended.

"Don't worry. Wade won't notice if you carry me."

He groaned, his teeth scraping at the flesh of your breast. "Don't fuckin’ say his name or I won't be able to fuck you again tonight."

You giggled, running your hands through his mussed hair. "Whiskey dick?"

"Shut up–"

"He's told you–"

Lips sealed over yours, hips pushing yours until the sigh stuttered from your chest. "Don't fuckin' start honey."

You smiled into the kiss. "Or you'll finish?"

A thump rammed against the door, startling the both of you. You half expected it to swing open and expose Logan with his jeans down to his knees and his softened cock still inside you. But all that came through was Wade's laughter—his knuckles rapping on the wood.

"Did he rise babygirl?" he shouted much to the detriment of the group who booed behind him.

"I will cut you open through the door!" Logan snarled. A triumphant laugh rattled the walls as Logan lowered you to the ground. Only for Wade to get the last official word.

"HE ROSE!"

#logan howlett x f!reader #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #logan howlett x y/n #logan howlett smut #logan howlett #my writing

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the-case-book-of-fanfiction · 1 year ago

Text

Burns Like Rum

Ship: Astarion x female!human!reader/Tav

Summary: Astarion's hunger worsens every day and you don't have any blood to spare—but that doesn't stop you from inadvertently tempting him at every turn. Luckily for both of you, you've both got the same idea to cure him of his hunger.

Word Count: 7,840 words

Warnings: sexual content (18+), menstruating reader, hungry Astarion, mutual pining, possibly OOC dialogue, vampire feeding, soft Astarion, no particular timeline but Astarion hasn't told you anything yet

18+ Warnings: period sex, fingering, oral (f receiving), hand job, bite kink, blood kink, aftercare, use of the words cunt & cock

Note: For my usual readers, more Stranger Things content is coming, I promise! But this bitey boy currently owns my heart so I'm gonna show him some love :)

☟ Continue below the fold ☟

Astarion was hungry, and it was entirely your fault, for more than one reason.

The first was that, almost a month ago now, you had let Astarion drink from you. He'd been starving, and it didn't help that the others had given him strict rules about feeding, so when he flashed those sad but gorgeous red eyes at you, complaining of hunger, you'd all but gifted him your neck.

He'd practically drained you that night. You had been weak for days. Of course, the others, namely Gale and Lae'zel, were furious with you for letting him drink from you, but the sated, content look on his face after feeding made it all worth it to you. He'd become more comfortable around you after that, too, and you'd considered that an improvement.

It hadn't been all that bad, really, for him to sink his teeth into you and drink until your grip on him had grown so weak that he'd let up to check on you. In fact, it had been...rather pleasant. He'd been gentle, careful, his bite sharp but considerate. You knew then that you'd risk becoming anemic for a week just to feel the pleasure of his hand cradling your neck and head, his mouth against your neck, his tongue soothing the bite he'd left when he'd had his fill.

But in the weeks that followed, his hunger gradually returned, and with a vengeance. It was as if he'd never fed from you at all, suffering hunger pangs he hid from the others—but you noticed, recognizing them from the night he'd begged you to let him drink from you.

You'd offered him more of your blood since then, but he'd refused you every time. He could smell your guilt, your need to make him feel better simply because you felt responsible for his current pain.

"I won't accept blood from someone who feels obligated to give it to me," he'd said, and his tone made it difficult to tell if he was being snide or kind.

Sometimes, you simply didn't understand that man.

And then three days ago, you'd been injured in a fight. It was nothing fatal, the gash in your midsection missing any major muscles and not deep enough to jeopardize your organs, but it was bloody. You'd limped your way back to camp, your head swimming, the world around you growing darker around the edges with every step.

You'd fainted in Astarion's arms—although collapsed was a better word for it, according to Karlach—drenched in blood, some of which was yours and some of which that wasn't.

"You should have seen his face!" Karlach had laughed when you'd woken up the next morning, woozy but fine thanks to Shadowheart. The blood loss kept you off your feet for the day to recover, and Karlach had taken the time to visit you.

"What do you mean?" you asked, although you already had a good idea what might have happened after you passed out.

"You put him in a right pickle, collapsing on him like that, all covered in blood and losing more of it quickly," she said. "He didn't know what to do with you. It was— It was like he didn't want to drop you, but he really did want to drop you, because all he wanted to do was drink from you. Can't say as I blame him—he's not fed in weeks and you turn up with his next meal draining out of you." You hid your face in your hands with a groan. "Why'd you beeline for him anyway? Shadowheart's tent was just a few paces away!"

You glared at her through your fingers. "You know why I went to him, Karlach!" She, of all people, would understand. She had been the first person to find out that, as much as you flirted with them all, Astarion was the one you wanted.

"Well, obviously," she said, "but it didn't occur to you that he might...have an adverse reaction?"

Rolling your eyes, you snarked, "No, Karlach, it didn't, I was bleeding out and suffering from head trauma. I just...saw someone I trusted to keep me safe and ran to him."

She cocked her head to the side. "That's sweet, but stupid."

You snorted. "Yeah, I know—Shadowheart won't stop yelling at me for it."

You hadn't seen Astarion until that night, when the group of you had gathered at the campfire. It hadn't meant to be like that; you'd seen him and had wanted to talk to him, at least apologize for throwing your bloody body at him, but Shadowheart followed you closely to keep you safe and soon the others had gathered.

It had been like a very strange family dinner, made awkward by everyone dancing around exactly why you'd gone to Astarion, knowing a hungry vampire and fresh blood were not a good mix.

The final reason you were making his hunger unbearable made itself known at the end of the night, when it was just you, Astarion, and Shadowheart at the dying fire.

She must have caught sight of the way you kept looking at Astarion out of the corner of your eye, embarrassedly looking away or pretending to gaze into the trees behind him every time he caught you looking. She tapped your shoulder and told you she needed to get rest. The "you should, too" was implied, hanging in the air along with her worry about your healing.

"I'm fine, Shadowheart, really," you insisted. "I won't rip myself open again, I promise."

"I'll keep an eye on her," Astarion promised. "Nothing too...strenuous for her just yet." Something in his voice made you shiver.

She left the two of you alone. You looked first at the fire, then down at your hands, folded in your lap. Anywhere than at him.

You didn't even hear him move. You only knew he had when you felt him sit on the log beside you, one of his hands covering your own.

"Are you alright?" he asked, his voice soft. "I...am sorry I didn't visit you, it's just—"

"It's just that I threw myself at you when it looked like I'd taken a shower in blood and that made things a wee bit difficult?" you interrupted, the words spilling out before you had time to process that you were speaking. Embarrassed heat flushed through you instantly.

But Astarion only gave you that soft, slightly toothy smile. You drank it in, relishing his smile lines and the brief contentment on his face. "Something like that, yes," he said. "I was...worried I might hurt you if I saw you again and you still smelled so deliciously of your blood. I'm so hungry, darling, it's unbearable. All I wanted was to feast until there was nothing left of you, and I'd never forgive myself if I—"

"Stop." You held up your hand. "Please. I don't... Don't be so nice to me, it makes me feel like I'm on my deathbed."

Astarion laughed, throwing his head back. "I'd hardly call wanting to drain you nice, my love." Almost unconsciously, your gaze dipped to his exposed neck and you wondered idly what he would do if you were to bite him back.

Probably the strenuous activity Astarion had promised Shadowheart you wouldn't be doing.

He met your gaze, a sudden depth and seriousness in his crimson stare. "Stick with me, and you might soon be on your deathbed." Pointedly, he broke eye contact with you, letting his eyes drop first to your neck and then further down your body. You tingled, the feeling reminiscent of the anemia that had possessed your body in the hours and days after he'd drank from you.

You realized Astarion was waiting for a reaction from you, hoping for something more than your stunned silence. So you let your eyes drift across his body, resting on his mouth as you said, "Doesn't sound like a bad way to go out."

From the back of his throat came a sound that wasn't quite a growl or a groan, but somewhere in between, just as needy as either sound. "Don't tempt me, darling," he whispered. "I promised Shadowheart I'd keep you safe, and you certainly wouldn't be if I did everything I want."

Your heart skipped a beat. "Astarion..."

He closed his eyes, leaning toward you, releasing a tense breath. "Darling..."

"What if I want to tempt you?" You put your hand on his leg, sliding closer to him.

"Cheeky thing," he said, eyes opening in small slits. "But only when you're healed. I can still smell the blood on you." He sighed. "You have no idea how much restraint it takes not sink my teeth into that pretty neck of yours."

You frowned. "But I am healed," you said. "Just tender. Shadowheart wouldn't have let me leave her tent otherwise."

"I can't blame you for wanting me," Astarion teased, that familiar charm honeying his words, "but I've never been wrong." He cupped your cheek, his touch taking the bite out of his words. He offered you a small, sympathetic smile.

You put your hand to your abdomen, half-expecting to find that your wound had ripped open of its own accord. Your shirt and the bandage beneath it was dry—but a sudden twinge of pain, appearing only once it had been acknowledged, came from lower. You hissed.

Astarion sat up straighter. "What is it? Are you alright?"

"Shit. I think I've figured out why you still smell blood," you said through clenched teeth.

Astarion's eyes dipped to where your hand rested. "It's that time again already, is it?"

"It's early," you groaned. You stood slowly, regretting it instantly.

He tracked you as you moved, his gaze becoming dangerous and predatory. It was the look that had scared you when he drank from you, practically convincing you he wasn't going to stop. Still, his need for you burned through you like rum, its heat spreading through your belly.

"I didn't smell it before, not under all the blood you had on you," he said. His voice was deep, dark, dangerous. "But, oh, darling—I smell it now." He licked his lips and your stomach did flips that were neither pleasant or unpleasant. The hunger in his eyes was palpable

"I, ah, have to go. For your sake and mine. Um. So, uh, goodnight, Astarion. I...I'll see you when this is all over."

He stood up quickly. "Darling, do you need—" He cut himself off as you waved away his concern, crossing the camp to your own tent.

"No! Goodnight!" you called over your shoulder.

Astarion sighed. "...Night."

~❊~

You avoided Astarion like the plague. Well, perhaps not, because while you never wanted to see the disease, you were always on the lookout for your favorite vampire.

You caught glimpses of him through the open flaps of your tent, sauntering by with a swagger you found unfairly attractive. You saw him reading on his own when Shadowheart helped you changed your bandages, his handsome face fixed in concentration. A few hours later, you heard him arguing with Gale about the very same book, which had apparently gone missing, and you hated the flutter in your stomach at the growl in his angry voice.

"Stop that," Karlach said, glancing up at you as the pair of you cooked, Karlach helping you roast root vegetables evenly.

"Stop what?"

"Mooning over him," she said, jerking her head in Astarion's direction.

Your body flushed with heat. "I'm not—"

"You are, and we can all tell, and you should just get it over with, but only if you mean it."

You frowned, tearing your eyes away from the blessed sight that was Astarion basking in the sun. "Sorry, what?"

Karlach sighed. "If you sleep with him—" You spluttered. "—it had better be because you truly want him and not because you're bleeding."

You blinked at her. "Karlach, of course I want him, you've heard me talk about him before this!"

"I know, I know," she relented, "but I have a feeling there's more to our vampire than meets the eye." She glanced over at Astarion. "Just...be kind to him, dear. He's more fragile than he looks."

You followed her gaze over to him. He was stretching, his arms lifted high above his head, undoubtedly oblivious to the two of you watching him. Want and need bubbled up inside of you, both clamoring for Astarion, agreeing that he would fulfill them both. The deep-seated lust you'd had for him since he'd first put a knife to your neck burned even brighter as the breeze that had been kicking up dust all morning played with the silver hair curling around his ears.

His nostrils flared and you knew he'd smelled you. He looked over at you and Karlach and you froze. She waved cheerily, then frowned at you when you didn't move. You swallowed harshly and went back to removing the scales from the fish in your lap.

"He doesn't like not being around you either, you know," Karlach said, returning to the task at hand. "He's always looking at you when you're not looking. You're perfect for each other like that."

"I don't want to make this harder for him by being around him," you said, glancing back over at him. He was watching you as he poured himself a glass of wine. Had it been normal circumstances, when you weren't driving him insane simply by smelling like blood, you would have teased him for day-drinking. "He's already so hungry, I'd only make that worse. It was bad enough I threw myself at him covered in his favorite snack!"

Karlach snorted. The sound of a light laugh floated over to you and you looked up to find Astarion smirking into his goblet. He beckoned you over and your eyes grew wide.

"Excuse me for a moment, Karlach," you said, clearing your throat.

Karlach followed your gaze and giggled. "More than a moment, dear. I'll come back later to help you finish this." She left the log you'd been sharing and you waited until she was in her own tent again before you jumped to your feet and practically ran to Astarion.

"Hello, darling," he purred. "Care for a drink?"

"I could go for a little," you said.

Astarion smiled, that rakish charm summoning warmth that spread through your entire body. "I hope you like red," he said, and put his own goblet to your lips.

You held his gaze as you drank. You saw his nostrils flare, his pupils growing large. You knew he could hear how your heart was racing, could smell your arousal mixing with your blood.

He pulled the goblet away from your lips and took another swig. You licked the red wine off your lower lip and heard the breath catch in his chest.

"You're starving, aren't you?"

"You have no idea," he whispered.

"I might," you said. "Thought I'd say it's a hunger of a different kind."

Astarion's smirk was so wide you could see his fangs clearly. "Oh, really, darling?"

You nodded, taking a step closer to him. He breathed in deeply. "We could help each other, you know. Satiate our hungers."

His eyes grew dark, trained on yours. "Is that so?" He raised his hand, nearly brushing your cheek, but stopped himself just before he touched you. "You'd let me soothe your pain by..." His gaze dropped to your waistline. "...eating from you?"

A tremor passed through you at the sound of his voice, deeper than you'd ever heard it, laced with a danger and a seduction you were embarrassed to find attractive. Your body was tuned to it, his words seeming to drop like a stone from your ears to your core, spreading fire through your veins and melting your organs.

Astarion took a small step closer to you and took your chin in three gentle fingers, tilting your head up toward him. For a moment, you thought he might kiss you then and there. "I'm going to need an answer, darling."

"Yes." You couldn't get the word out fast enough. It came out breathy, nearly lost on the wind still swirling between you.

He chuckled. "Well, then. You asked for it." He dropped the hand on your chin back to his side. "Once everyone else is asleep, come find me. We'll find a quiet place and...have a little fun."

~❊~

Of all the nights, it had to be this one where everyone came to check on you before they went to sleep. Thanks to Astarion avoiding you like the plague when the two of you had become inseparable, your monthly bleed had become public knowledge. So practically everyone in camp came to you with solutions you declined, claiming to feel fine, even though your pain had worsened over the course of the day.

You watched Astarion slink off into the forest after the sun had gone down and waited until the others were sequestered in their tents, nearly an hour later, to pull your boots back on, stand on shaky feet, and follow the path you assumed he'd taken.

You had started to believe you'd taken a wrong turn somewhere when you heard his cool voice from behind you: "There you are. I've been waiting."

Astarion stepped out of the shadows. He ran his gaze over you, observing your slightly hunched stance, your hand on your lower abdomen. Your shoulders relaxed at the sight of him; he looked softer in the moonlight. The silver light fell across his curls and the statuesque panes of his face, somehow making that face that was so gaunt with hunger unbelievably beautiful.

He looked like a poet or a god, even in just the simple shirt he insisted on wearing around camp instead of the finer silks you knew he carried with him. Or perhaps it was the simplicity that made him so godly. You couldn't tell.

A frown graced his brow. "The pain is worse now, isn't it?"

You nodded. "Just a bit."

Astarion left the small hill he stood on and came closer to you. He offered you his hand. "Come on, dear, let me make you feel better."

You let him guide you away from the path you had taken and into a small clearing just a few feet away, conveniently hidden by thickets, trees, and tall grass. He stood aside, letting you take it in for a moment, as if waiting for your approval of the place. You looked down at the mossy ground and decided it would be soft enough.

"Well, this is nice," you said, seconds before you heard fabric rustling. You turned and blinked rapidly at what you saw: Astarion, his shirt now off and in his hands. You watched him lay it down where the ground was most level. Your breath caught horribly in your throat at the sight of the scar covering his back. You fought back the urge to ask, knowing it would only piss him off.

He turned back to you with a smile. "Your bed for the evening, my love," he said, gesturing to it.

"Oh, Astarion, I can't, I don't want to get blood on your shirt. What would the others—"

Astarion cupped your face in one hand. "The others will assume I hunted something and got messy," he said. "And I'll enjoy your scent while I have it."

Flutters in your stomach nearly brought you to your knees. You looked up at him, drawing in a tiny breath, and brought your hand up to hold the wrist that cradled your cheek.

"Please," you whispered, unsure of exactly what you were begging for but knowing what you wanted.

"Promise me you'll tell me if...I'm too much," Astarion said, and you got the sense he'd changed what he was going to say.

You nodded, whispering your promise, and wound your free hand into the hair at the nape of his neck, standing on your tiptoes to push your lips to his.

It was a messy first kiss. It was little more than teeth and spit, but it felt like heaven anyway, because his free arm was winding around your waist and pressing your bodies together, his leg sliding between yours. Bliss spread through you, starting at your core.

Astarion pulled away from you. "Someone's eager, isn't she?"

You whimpered and he stifled it with another kiss, softer than the first. He was gentle, more than you'd expected from a starving man. He cupped the back of your head and your hand dropped to his hip. You opened your mouth to him and reveled in the feeling of his tongue sliding against yours. He made a soft sound of satisfaction and pushed his leg up against your clothed core. You moaned loudly, your grip on him tightening. Need flooded you and your hips pushed down on his leg, finding relief in the pressure.

The two of you pressed your foreheads together, breathing heavily.

"Shh, darling, not too loud. You don't want the others to come investigate, do you?" His cheeky tone suggested he would love it if the others found the two of you like this—or, perhaps, further along.

You wrapped both arms around his neck and buried your head into his shoulder, heat burning through you, a mix of embarrassment and pleasure. You felt like there was a pendulum inside you, swinging constantly between wanting to slow down, afraid of coming off as too eager, and desperately needing him to get to it.

Astarion chuckled. "Don't hide, love." He smoothed his hand over your hair. "You do trust me, don't you?"

You kissed his shoulder and heard his breath catch. "With my life, Astarion."

"Are you ready?"

You nodded and he walked you over to his shirt and helped you to sit on it. He watched you lay down, his gaze falling your exposed neck. There was something more than hunger in his eyes; it made your breathing hitch.

Astarion crawled over you and placed his hand underneath your head before he kissed you. You draped your arm over his shoulders, holding him close to you, enjoying the soft touch of his lips against yours. It was chaste, as were the next few that followed it in quick succession, one after the other.

One hand slid down your body and stopped at the hem of your trousers. He tugged at the shirt tucked into them. "Darling? May I?"

"Please do," you said.

"Arms up."

He pulled the fabric over your head and tossed it to the side. He looked down at your torso from where he straddled your hips. His hands skimmed over you and he leaned down, pressing more gentle kisses to your neck and collarbones. Your body tingled with remembrance, practically yearning to feel his fangs sink into your neck, to feel your blood leave you with a burning that felt like intoxication.

"Astarion." His name was a breathy cry on your lips, and you saw how much he liked the sound of it when he looked up at you, a smile curving onto the lips still pressed to your skin.

"Yes, dear?"

You gently coaxed him back up to you with your hand on his chin. "Let me kiss you."

He smiled, brighter than the moonlight falling around you, and you pressed your mouth to his. He hummed happily into your mouth, a pleasant sensation that made you reluctant to break the kiss. But you did, kissing along his jaw and down his neck instead. You nipped gently at his neck, pulling a surprised laugh from him.

"Really, darling? Biting the vampire?" Astarion's eyes were sparkling with amusement. His face had relaxed into an easy smile. It was a good look on him; you liked it.

You giggled and placed another kiss over the bite. The pair of you rolled onto your sides and you peppered his chest with kisses, your arm wrapped loosely around his waist. You went back up to his neck and sucked lightly.

"So much for the others not knowing," he teased.

You looked at him through your lashes. "What if I want them to know?"

"Cheeky little thing," he whispered, dragging a finger down the side of your face. "As much as I love this—and believe me, I do love this—I can't wait any longer. I'm starving, darling. Let me taste you. Please."

Slightly subdued, you rolled onto your back. "Alright," you whispered, your chest tightening in anticipation.

Astarion climbed on top of you again. He undid the laces at the front of your trousers and slipped his hand inside them, moving slowly and keeping his eyes locked on yours.

The moment two of his fingers slid between your wet folds, your eyes fluttered shut and a happy sigh slipped from your lips.

"There she is," he whispered, his eyes half-lidded, as he worked you gently and slowly. You felt the blood and arousal gather on his fingers as he grew closer to your entrance. He dragged them back up to your clit and rubbed in a slow circle. You gasped, arching into his touch. Astarion giggled. "Oh, you like that, don't you?"

You wriggled underneath him, trying everything in your power to get more of his touch. He smiled down at you, kissing your cheek and cooing softly at you. If he spoke words, you didn't hear them, too lost in the pleasure he easily, skillfully, brought to you.

Without warning, Astarion plunged both fingers into your entrance. You moaned, grabbing at his hair. He chuckled, curling his fingers inside you. Whimpers slipped past your lips; you couldn't have controlled them if you tried, but you were by no means trying. His smile grew with every sound you made, and you wanted nothing more than to see that smile.

Just as suddenly as he'd pushed his fingers in, he pulled them out. You whined instantly but he shushed you and removed his hand from your pants. A small streak of blood was left on the skin of your stomach as he raised his hand to his mouth. You watched raptly as he licked your blood from his fingers, never once breaking eye contact with you.

He wasn't even touching you and the fire in your belly grew at the sight.

Astarion moaned softly around his fingers. You watched his deft tongue catch every drop of blood, thinned by your arousal, from his hand. He whispered your name in a whine and you let go of a long breath.

Once he'd licked his fingers clean, he bent down and yanked your trousers off your legs. You spread them automatically and he put one leg between them. He pulled off your undergarments and sat back, admiring your naked body with a satisfied smirk.

"Look at you," he whispered.

The need for him to touch you won out over the desire for him to keep staring at you. "Astarion." His name was a loud whine, emphasized by your writhing hips.

He chucked. "Needy girl." His hand returned to your cunt, his palm applying pressure to your clit while his fingers toyed with your bloody folds. His eyes practically rolled into the back of his head, the smell of blood so heady even you could smell it.

He teased your entrance for a moment and pulled his fingers back up, the tips of them coated in thick blood that looked black in the night. He sucked it from his fingers with a toothy smile, his fangs peeking out over his bottom lip.

You pushed your hips up enough to catch his eye. "Please," you whimpered.

"Alright, love, alright," he said. He put his hand back and slipped his fingers back inside you. Relief curled through you—as did his fingers. "I'll starve myself a bit longer for your pleasure."

You cupped his neck and brought his face to yours and kissed him fiercely. He made a surprised but pleased sound into your mouth and quickened his pace. You gasped against his lips and he ducked his head to your neck, kissing you quickly with every curl of his fingers.

You twisted your fingers through his hair, rapidly kissing the top of his head, pushing your hips up into his hand. He chuckled, his breath ghosting over your skin and raising goosebumps. You shuddered in his arms.

"I've got you," he murmured, sucking a light mark into your neck. You felt his teeth prick you and saw the shudder that passed through his body at the tiny droplets of blood that appeared.

He pulled away from your neck and curled his fingers just so. You groaned.

"Astarion!" you cried, throwing your head back.

He grinned and quickened his pace. You sucked in a deep breath, fighting back tears of pleasure.

"Let go, darling," he whispered. "I've got you."

Astarion looked back down at your neck. He locked eyes with you as he pressed his tongue to your skin, slowly licking up the droplets as they began to run down your neck. The combination of his intense stare and the movement of his fingers was all you needed; with a loud cry, you came on his fingers, your walls clenching so hard around him he could hardly keep moving them.

He chuckled. "That's it, dear, that's it." He cooed softly, helping you through it with his voice, his soft touch, and gentle kisses to your lips.

You were breathing hard when he finally pulled his fingers out of you. You whimpered at the slight pain but realized your cramps had all but disappeared.

Judging by the state of his hand, you didn't want to know how bloody his shirt was. It looked as though he'd reached into someone's chest and ripped their heart out; his hand was drenched and rivulets of blood ran all the way down to his elbow.

Astarion giggled at the sight while you burned with embarrassment. "Well, well, well. Someone's happy, isn't she?"

"So are you," you said, nodding to the bulge in his pants.

He grinned. "Well, what did you expect? You were quite vocal, my needy little thing." His eyes drifted back down to your cunt, lust curling through his gaze. "Tight and wet and utterly desperate for me."

He licked a stripe up his hand, his eyes fluttering shut. "Oh, darling, you taste good." He sucked your blood off of every finger, pleasure sliding over his face.

You smiled. "There's more where that came from."

Astarion raised one perfect brow. "Can you handle another little death?" he teased.

You nodded. "I can take a few more."

He chuckled and groaned at the same time. "Oh, my love, don't make promises you can't keep."

You met his gaze as he finished cleaning off his hand. "Believe me, I can keep it."

The vampire grinned. "Very well, then. I'll eat good tonight."

He kissed you chastely as he put his hand between your legs again.

Astarion brought you pleasure unlike anything you'd ever felt before as his fingers slid over your blood-slick skin, teasing your folds and entrance with a smirk, often just barely inserting the tip of his finger before pulling it out again and tracing over your clit and smearing blood across your skin. He kissed and sucked on your breasts, leaving darkening bruises and tiny scratches from his teeth, licking up the tiny beads of blood that sprung from each nick. He kissed along the line of scarring and stitches you had gotten from your injury, fading fast but still a reminder of what had gotten you on your back for him in the first place. Now that he'd eaten a little, he was intently focused on bringing you to the edge and pulling you back, again and again and again.

He worked another orgasm out of you and was on his way to coaxing out the third when you stopped him.

"Is it too much?" he asked, frowning. His unbloodied hand moved to rest on your hip, his thumb smoothing over your skin. His eyes searched your face, looking for anything to tell him why you'd stopped him.

You shook your head. "I need more, Astarion," you gasped, slurring his name into Astari. The unintended nickname made him blush. "I need more of you. Please. Please."

The smile returned to his face, cockier than before. "Oh, darling. I need more of you, too," he said, looking into your cunt and licking his lips. "I could just eat you up."

You spread your legs wider. He settled between them. "Please do."

He breathed in deep and his eyes practically rolled back into his head. "You're going to be the death of me— Ah. Well, you would be, if I was alive."

You frowned. "Would this even be happening if you were alive?"

Astarion thought for a moment. "Let's not think about the logistics," he decided and licked the drying blood from his fingers off your abdomen. Your body trembled. He lifted your legs over his shoulders. You squeaked and smiled at him.

"Lay back," he whispered. You obliged him.

Wet warmth touched your skin just above your clit and you glanced down at him, watching him slowly lick the drying blood from your skin. He kissed your skin as he cleaned it, leaving you covered in slowly darkening bruises.

You stared at the stars as he pressed a soft first kiss to your clit. You let out a slow breath and he began to suck, his lips closing around it, his tongue licking light stripes.

You pushed your hips against his mouth. "Circles," you whispered.

"As you wish," he said, his breath fanning over your cunt and making you tremble. He went back to his feast, licking in circles this time, and you let out a soft whimper. You reached down and he reached up, lacing your fingers together and squeezing your hand. You squeezed back.

He moved further down until his nose bumped your clit and his lips found your entrance. He moaned, the sound deep and guttural, at the taste of your blood. He lapped at your entrance, his tongue sweeping up the blood as soon as it collected there. You shuddered, your breaths coming in heaves.

Astarion kissed your entrance once before he dove in, pushing his tongue into your cunt. You gasped and he laughed and buried his face in you.

Through the pleasure, you wondered dimly how he was breathing (did he, as a vampire, need to breathe?), but the thought was pushed away the moment his splayed fingers on your hip dug into your flesh and pulled you even closer to his mouth.

The sounds you were making were obscene: your moans were loud and coarse, and your cunt squelched lewdly as he drank your blood and arousal. You felt filthy, aware that the mix was running down your legs and buttocks but knowing the vampire eating you out was enjoying you too much to care.

Astarion himself was quite vocal, moaning into you and making you shiver. He whimpered, whined, groaned, and keened, growing louder with every swallow of blood. He alternated between watching you writhe and squeezing his eyes shut in pleasure.

You watched his hand slide from your hip to his bulge. He palmed himself through his trousers, hissing in pleasure, and the sight was enough to send you over the edge for a third time.

But Astarion didn't let up. He lapped at you, sucking so harshly your pleasure bordered pain, until your legs stopped shaking and your breathing evened out.

He lifted his head with a grin. "How do I look?"

You looked at him and started laughing. He was the smiliest you had ever seen him, his eyes practically glowing, and the lower half of his face was covered in your blood. His teeth were stained red and sticky blood dripped slowly from his fangs. It ran down his chin in rivulets and splatters dotted his lower cheeks like freckles. Some of it was even in his hair.

"You're ridiculous," you giggled. "And a messy eater."

He snorted. "Excuse you!"

"It's all over your face!"

He sat up with a grin, licking his lips. "You mean you are all over my face."

Satisfaction curled through you. "Yes," you said, reaching for him. He took your hand again. "Yes I am."

He wiped his face with his hand and licked it clean once again. You reached up and wiped some off on your thumb, then held it out to him. He took your thumb into his mouth and sucked. Your heart stopped beating.

"Feeling better?" he asked you, lightly placing his palm over your abdomen, applying a little pressure, and rubbing gentle circles.

"Much better," you said. "Thank you. But, ah..." Your gaze drifted from his beautiful, if slightly pink, face and down to his bulge. It was just as, if not more, prominent now that he'd gone down on you. "What about you?"

Astarion smirked. "I like your enthusiasm, but don't worry about me. Not tonight, darling."

You frowned. "Why not? What if I want you inside of me?" You walked two fingers up his leg and slowly covered his crotch with your palm. When he didn't protest and his eyes fluttered shut, you gave him a gentle squeeze. He let out a soft moan through closed lips and tilted his head back. You kissed the column of his neck and bit down gently. You sucked—hard—and a rumbling moan came from his chest.

"Because," he said finally, drawing in a ragged breath. "Because that would be a terrible waste of your precious blood." He looked at you with half-lidded eyes. "When this is over, I promise you, you can have as much of me as you want." He pushed his hips into your hand and you gave him another gentle squeeze. He gasped.

You nuzzled into him and his arm wrapped around your shoulders, holding you there. "And what if I want all of you?"

The question hung in the air. He looked at you for a long time and suddenly you saw the fragility Karlach had mentioned this afternoon, which felt like years ago instead of mere hours. You reached up to cup his cheek and, though you were stark naked, the sexual desire in the air seemed to have disappeared.

"I want all of you, Astari," you whispered. The nickname made his eyes grow wide. "All of you, in every way, for as long as possible. If you'll let me. If you want me, too."

He whimpered, and the sound was broken. You hated hearing that pain coming from him. "I want you, I do, I just..." He closed his eyes and you were suddenly very sure there was a darkness, a secret, he was trying to hide from you. You were certain it had to do with his vampiric master he'd so often complained about. "I'll try, my darling, I'll try for you."

You sat up on your knees and cupped his face in both hands and kissed him. You didn't break the kiss once as you pressed your body against his and held him tightly. You felt the scar on his back and wanted to ask but didn't, letting him keep his secrets for now.

His arms came around you, cradling your back and holding you tight to him. The kiss became a long-lasting hug, the both of you burying your heads in each other's shoulders until Astarion pulled away from you, a smile on his face. You returned that smile and sat back on your heels.

His eyes trailed over your body again. There was a note of nervousness in his voice as he asked, "Darling, would you mind...touching me again? I could use some relief."

You grinned. "Of course, my love. All you had to do was ask."

Relief crossed his face. He leaned back as you trailed your hand from his shoulder, down his chest, and back to his bulge. You tipped his head back with your free hand and kissed his neck while you rubbed him. He pushed his hips into your hand, sighing blissfully, and your hand was in his trousers in seconds. He grew loud, thrusting his cock into your hand with a power that surprised you.

"Take what you need," you told him, your voice hushed, your lips directly next to his ear. "Help me give you what you want."

He whimpered, your name a broken cry from his lips, and he cuddled into you as he came. He buried his head into your neck, hiding his eyes and barely holding back grunts. As his thrusts grew weaker and you slowed your hand on him, you felt hot tears on your neck and wondered what this poor man had been through that he hadn't yet told you.

You removed your hand from his pants and he immediately wrapped you in another hug, one strong enough to knock you down and knock the breath of you. You held him as tightly as he held you.

When Astarion at last pulled away from you, his tears had stopped but his eyes still shone with them. He kissed you softly.

"Thank you," he whispered. "I... Thank you."

You brushed some of his hair from his face. "What's wrong?"

He shook his head. "Nothing. You were... It's just that no one has cared about me during sex in a very long time and...you did. So...thank you."

You took his hand and squeezed it. "Oh, Astarion," you cooed. "I always care about you. Like this or otherwise. You could stop this right now—or before it even began—and I wouldn't have stopped caring about you."

He smiled. "Oh, darling. I love the sentiment, but I'm not done with you yet."

Astarion kissed down your body and laid between your legs again. He licked another stripe up your cunt and you saw the coating of blood on his tongue before he swallowed. "Shall we try for a fourth? Or perhaps even a fifth?" He raised his brow, leaving the decision up to you.

You laid back. "We'll try for as many as you'd like," you said.

He bared his teeth in a feral grin. "All night it is!"

~❊~

You woke up the next morning sore and alone and with very little sleep.

Astarion had been relentless and stopped only when you simply couldn't take it anymore and he was practically drunk on your blood—all without making you bloodless and woozy. When you had finished for the final time, he had cleaned you up, helped you back into your clothes, picked up his own shirt, and walked you back to camp. He was so gentle that you didn't even mind the teasing about how you limped.

Dawn hadn't been far off as you each went back to your tents after exchanging a final, solid kiss. So you woke to the sound of everyone else beginning their day just a few hours later.

You felt the soreness in your core before you even moved. Biting back a sigh and not regretting it one bit as you pictured Astarion's happy, bloody face, you rolled over and hoped your recent injury would be enough for the others to let you sleep in.

You were wrong.

Shadowheart opened your tent a few minutes later with a urgency that made you jump.

"What? What's wrong?" you asked, blinking blearily in the bright sunlight.

"Are you alright? You never sleep in, you're always up making breakfast!"

You groaned. "Is that it? Are you just hungry?"

She peered at you. "Are you hurt? Did your wound reopen?"

"What? No! I'm fine, I'm just tired, that's all! I have lost a lot of blood recently, in case you forgot."

She sighed. "Oh. Alright. Well, just know the others are worried, too—Astarion especially."

You remembered how he'd checked in on you last night and had asked if he'd hurt you at all when you'd returned to camp and wondered if you had worried him by sleeping in. Suddenly you were grateful the others could chalk it up to his not-so-secret crush on you.

You dressed and hid the light bruises on your neck and collarbones in a high-collared shirt. You only noticed you were walking with a slight limp still after you'd left your tent and made your way across camp.

Karlach called your name and was at your side immediately. "You're limping! Are you hurt? Do you need me to fetch Shadowheart?"

You blinked at her. "What? No. I'm fine!"

"You don't look fine," Gale said, a few feet away, looking up from the book he'd been engrossed in for days. "Did you hurt your leg the other day? Or have your stitches ripped?"

"My, my," said a suave voice behind you. You turned and found Astarion grinning like a cat. "You do have quite the limp, there, darling. Are you sure you're alright?"

You huffed at him, your body remembering his touch immediately, his ghostly hands sliding across your skin. "I'm fine, I promise. Now hush and someone help me make breakfast."

Both Karlach and Astarion sat with you, Astarion very close to you and giving you a smile you couldn't help but return. Karlach stared at Astarion like he'd grown two heads, her gaze flickering between the two of you. She gasped very suddenly.

"Not a word," you hissed at her, knowing she'd figured it out.

Astarion smirked.

"And nothing from you, either," you added. "You're the reason I'm walking like this, you bastard."

He smiled sweetly at you, catching the fondness in the words. "And I gladly will be again." He took your hand and lifted it to his mouth, kissing it. Your eyes grew wide.

Karlach squeaked.

"You know nothing," you told her. "At least for a little while."

"Yes," Astarion agreed. "At the very least, tell Shadowheart nothing—I broke my promise to her to keep our dear girl from doing any strenuous activity."

You turned red and Karlach groaned, "Not before breakfast, please!"

Astarion opened his mouth—undoubtedly to say something about how you were technically his breakfast, based on the hour you'd returned to camp—but you moved quicker than he could speak. You grabbed him by the collar and yanked him toward you, kissing him heartily to shut him up.

A heavy silence settled over camp. You cracked one eye open and found the rest of your companions staring at the pair of you, mouths agape and eyes wide.

"Oops," Astarion muttered, sounding rather pleased.

You cleared your throat. "I, ah, I've been meaning to tell you all. Honestly."

Gale heaved a sigh. "How much do I owe you, Wyll?"

Your jaw dropped open. "You placed bets?!"

"Alright, you bloodsucker," Wyll said, holding his hand out and waiting for his payment from Gale. "You win."

"Yes," Astarion said, and you expected him to be wearing a smirk infused with his charm, his triumphant eyes on the others. But when you turned to him, he was staring at you, a dopey smile fixed on his face. "Yes, I did."

☞ ❊ ☜

Baldur's Gate 3 // Astarion Acunin

part 2 (Sweet Like Wine) {here}!

Taglist: {comment and let me know if you'd like to be added to the Astarion taglist!}

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