#New Cross Inn

[novablood]

NOVABLOOD TO PLAY DEBUT LONDON GIG

NEW CROSS INN - 7th Jan 2025

Tickets available here:

https://pit.live/events/1

[gbhbl]

Live Review: Waterlines with Embodiment, Karybdis & Iridium at New Cross Inn, London (07/09/23)

It’s a partial Bloodstock 2023 reunion in London at the New Cross Inn as Waterlines and Embodiment are in town, alongside Karybdis and Iridium.

It’s a partial Bloodstock 2023 reunion in London at the New Cross Inn as Waterlines and Embodiment are in town, alongside Karybdis and Iridium. It’s night that showcases the variety in the UK scene, a night that showcases the quality in the UK scene, and a night to be thankful that we can get shows like this. The night starts with some local metalcore as Iridium tear it up, delivering a stonking…

[mayorwhisper]

I looooove how this came out!

[just-about-nothing]

keep thinking about hank green’s new york friends asking him if he wants to go to a dive bar & him being like sure whatever. & they get there & he’s like this is a dive bar? this is every bar in missoula!

because yeah it do be like that in the west

[obsesssedblerd]

Shut me up

“No, no, please, you don’t understand—we need to have a room with two beds instead of one.” 

From the middle of the bed, Satoru scoffs at the sound of your desperate pleas to the receptionist over the phone. You pace back and forth, groaning when you’re told that it was the last room. “I know that we booked last minute, but��� Oh…. this is the only room available? …I see. Goodnight.” 

When you hang up, Satoru doesn’t stop his laugh, and the sound of it immensely amplifies your frustration. “You’re so pissed off,” he says as you cross your arms and glare at him. “It’s hilarious. Well, princess, looks like we’re here for the night. Get comfortable.” 

“Hell no,” you say, reaching into your bag to grab your phone. “I’m gonna ask Yaga for another place. There has to be another inn that’s close to the curse we’re tracking, and has two beds.” 

Satoru gets up from the bed and walks over to you, gently plucking your phone out of your hands and placing it on the dresser. “Yaga is asleep right now, and he worked his ass off to get this place for us at the very last minute.”

Good point. “Fine, I’ll sleep on the floor.” 

“Quit being ridiculous.” The asshole smirks, his blue eyes sparkling mischievously. “So flustered at the idea of sharing a bed with me. We’re just sleeping. You’re not thinking about anything dirty, are you?” 

“Huh?! No,” you hiss. “What the hell is wrong with you?” 

He doesn’t stop his teasing. “Hm. Sounds like you’re lying.” 

“Fuck you, Satoru,” you say, walking over to your bag and grabbing some clothes comfortable to sleep in. “And I’m not flustered. Just hate the idea of being so close to someone I can’t stand.” You head into the bathroom to shower and change before he can say anything else. “If you snore tonight, I’m kicking you.”

—

You can’t sleep. How could you? The room is quiet, and all you can think about is the man beside you. Speaking of, you hear Satoru shift, and the faint aroma of the expensive body wash he used while showering fills your nose. You hate to think it, but he does smell good. You look at the clock on the nightstand, and sigh quietly. Almost midnight. 

“Are you awake?” Satoru asks, and you pretend that you don’t hear him. 

You feel a poke in your ribs, and you shriek. “What the hell?!” 

“Pfft. Knew you were up.” He chuckles. “Ticklish?” 

“Do you need something?” 

“Nah, I just wanted to bother you.” 

You inhale sharply in an attempt to calm yourself, then turn around to face him. Though the room was mostly dark, you can still see him due to the moonlight shining through the window of the room. He’s lying on his side with his head resting against his arm, which was propped up on his pillow. 

“You’re like a child,” you say flatly as you roll your eyes. 

The corner of his mouth lifts in amusement. “Mhm.” 

“And you talk too much.”

“Tell me more.” 

“Extremely annoying, I can’t stand when you show up to missions late sometimes because you want sugar, and you joke around way too much when we’re supposed to be serious. Yaga, Suguru, and Shoko think that, too.”

He chuckles again, and you ignore the way your stomach flutters at the sound of it. “Aw, come on. You tell me that almost everyday. Give me something new.” 

“And give you that satisfaction? Nope,” you say, popping the ‘p’ as you turn back around to face the wall. “I think you’re the most ridiculous person I’ve ever worked with,” you conclude. 

“Well, you know what I think?” He asks, and you hum in question. You hear the bed creak as he moves, and your heart begins to pound when you sense him directly behind you. If you were to shift back even just a tiny bit, your back would be against his chest. 

“I think you’re full of shit,” he says near your ear, his voice dropping an octave lower. You feel his hand gently rest on your shoulder. 

“How so?” You whisper.

His hand begins to slowly slide down your arm, goosebumps rising on your skin. “You think I’m the most ridiculous person you’ve ever worked with, but you keep working with me,” he purrs, his breath fanning the shell of your ear. “At any moment, you can tell Yaga to quit having us do missions together, but you don’t. I always end up seeing you even though you say you hate looking at me.”

You feel his hand softly drift across your hip, then rest there, his fingers lightly playing with the hem of your shirt. Then, they slip underneath, drawing light, teasing patterns on your skin. Your breath hitches. 

You feel warm. 

“Saw how you looked at me when I got out of the shower earlier,” he says, and your stomach twists. Of course he did. Nothing ever gets past Satoru Gojo. “You were practically drooling while watching me put a shirt on.” 

“I-” You clear your throat. “I wasn’t.”

“You’re such a liar.” 

His lips press a feather-light kiss to your neck—on a spot where you’re very sensitive, and you gasp, but instinctively tilt your head to give him a bit more access. When you catch yourself, you straighten, and Satoru only scoffs. “See? It’s obvious.” 

“...What’s obvious?” 

“You want me.” 

You turn around again, ready to tell him that this was the dumbest thing you’ve heard him say all night, but he puts a finger to your lips, effectively stopping your words before you can get them out. “You want me,” he says again, “but you don’t know how to deal with that. So, you pretend that you hate me when you and I both know that it’s not true.” He then smiles again, his eyes dark with want. “But I see right through it. You’re not subtle. Anyway, you have a choice. You can either continue with your lying, or you can actually do something about it.” 

It takes a lot out of you to keep your hands out of the way so you don’t strangle him and then pull him closer. “Something like what?” You ask.

“You think I talk too much.” He leans closer to you; your faces nearly touching. You swallow once, his eyes tracking the movement of your throat as you do. Then his smile grows, inviting—no, daring you to make a move. 

“So shut me up.”

[sematarygirls]

      FUGITIVE!RAFE x MOTELWORKER!READER

WARNINGS .ᐟ fem!reader, unprotected p in v, choking, exhibitionism if you squint, murder, reader hates the cops, fucking a wanted criminal on a desk pretty much, seedy motel, passing mention of prostitution, drugs, and other illegal activities

NOTES .ᐟ when you're in an idgaf war and your opponent is motelworker!reader... my girl has seen shit, okay.

Sweat glistened on your exposed skin, a fitted top and pair of shorts barely covering your figure as you sat in the front office of your dad's motel. The heat was unbearable, and the humidity practically suffocating, causing your hair to stick to your forehead and your clothes to uncomfortably cling to you.

Leaning back in the office chair with your bare feet propped up on the desk—a fresh layer of nail polish drying on your toes—and a magazine in your hands, you sighed loudly, flipping to the next page. A bored expression was seemingly permanently etched into your features, purely disinterested in anything. Someone could come in and rob you with a gun to your head, and you'd barely blink.

The small square television in the corner was playing some sitcom at a low volume, the sounds of a couple fucking in a room a few doors down drowning out whatever stupid, corny jokes were being told under an ear piercing laugh track

The little motel, named Paradise Inn like this was some sort of really bad porno, was out in the middle of bumfuck nowhere. The nearest building was a gas station a mile or so up the road, and the sheriff's department which was about five miles in the opposite direction.

The secluded nature meant that you were always encountering the oddest people. You were sure half of them were serial killers and the other half prostitutes, if you had to guess, but you didn't actually care. Whatever the reason they came in to pay for a dirt cheap hotel room with no questions asked was their own business, and you genuinely couldn't care less.

The little bell above the door chimed, indicating that someone had entered, but you didn't even look up from your magazine, your eyes scanning some Hollywood drama about people you'd never even heard of. Footsteps thudded on the dirty linoleum floor, stopping right in front of you. When you still didn't look up, the man cleared his throat impatiently, clearly irritated and not in the mood for games.

"I'll be right with you," you hummed with disinterest, despite the fact that you were clearly not doing anything even remotely important. You just liked fucking with people, and you didn't like these kinds of people thinking they could walk over you, especially the occasional creepy old fucks that you encountered.

Rafe's jaw clenched at your blatant dismissal of him, the room falling silent—save for the TV and lewd acts echoing off the walls—for a moment as he fidgeted impatiently. "Customer service here is real nice," he said sarcastically, planting his palms on the desk and leaning forward.

You rolled your eyes in annoyance, closing the magazine and tossing it onto the desk before settling back in the chair and looking him over. He was hotter than the usual patrons that frequented this establishment, his biceps glittering as the thin sheen of sweat on his skin caught the light.

"You want a room or not?" You asked, eyes boring into his sharp blue ones. He clearly thought his intimidating presence alone was enough to get you to bend to his every whim, but you'd dealt with guys like him, and worse, since you were like five years old. The whole macho routine was not new to you, and frankly, you were tired of it.

"Obviously," he said, his tone clipped with annoyance. "What the fuck else would I be here for? Your lovely personality?" His gaze raked over you, taking in the sight of your glistening skin, the thin fabric of your shirt that left little to the imagination—he was pretty sure you werent even wearing a bra underneath, and your bare legs on the desk, crossed at the ankle.

"How charming," you deadpanned, his attitude not phasing you in the slightest as you leaned back and retrieved a key dangling from one of the hooks behind you. "You paying by the hour or..." Your gaze flickered back to him, the question lingering in the air. He didn't look like the type that needed to pay for sex, but maybe his delightful personality drove most women away.

"By the night," he replied curtly, looking like he wanted to say something else but decided against it. He dug into the pocket of his jeans, pulling out a wad of cash. He peeled off some bills and tossed them onto the desk haphazardly. "Keep the change."

"Whatever, dude," you shrugged, pulling your legs off the desk to sit up properly and grab his money. In the process, something on the TV caught your eye, a breaking news report about a cop killer that was spotted a few towns over.

Rafe followed your gaze, his jaw clenching as he saw his picture flashed onto the screen. His mind started to run through every possible option. He couldn't let you call the cops and report him, but did he really want another body under his belt.

"Huh," you said, your brows furrowing as you looked between him and the man in front of you. "That guy kinda looks like you," you hummed before shrugging, brushing it off without a care in the world. You didn't care whether he killed a cop or the president. As long as he ran off to his room and left you alone, you wouldn't have a problem. "Anyway, here's your key," you tossed it onto the desk, getting up to put the money in the safe.

His brows furrowed, expression guarded as he glared at your figure. Were you playing dumb until he left, so you could call the cops, or were you genuinely an idiot? He watched you bend down, his gaze immediately falling to the way your shorts pulled up and revealed the underside of your ass to him—a fact you were either unaware of or indifferent to.

You punched in the code and put the money inside before closing it. You were surprised, and a little annoyed, to see him still standing there when you stood back up and turned around. "Did you need something else?" You asked, your tone indicating that you were clearly uninterested in helping him with anything else he may need.

He hesitated, staring intently at you for a long pause, as if he was trying to read you. Ultimately, he decided you were more trouble than you were worth, so he just turned on his heels and walked away without giving you an answer.

"I hate this fucking job," you muttered under your breath, plopping back down in the office chair and grabbing your magazine while you attempted to get comfortable for another five long hours until your dad came back and took over.

It wasn't but an hour later that the bell above the door chimed again, making you audibly groan. Could you not have a moment of peace? You look up from your spot, rolling your eyes when the sheriff walked in with his hoity toity, high and mighty attitude.

"Sheriff," you greeted flatly, watching him approach the desk with his thumbs hooked in his belt. He looked like an idiot.

He said your name in a low drawl, the two of you having become quite familiar. It was quite often that you ran into the sheriff and his deputies, considering the kind of no questions asked establishment your father was running here. "You seen the news lately?"

"Does it look like I watch the news?" You asked, your gaze unwavering and your voice dripping with apathy. Obviously, you had seen the news, but you weren't about to give a cop what he wanted, especially not when that cop was Sheriff Swanson—the biggest pain in your ass since your father.

Sheriff Swanson's eyes narrowed, his jaw clenching. He didn't like your attitude, he never had, but he knew better than to push his luck with you because you sat around all day, bored out of your mind. He knew you'd jump at the chance to pick a fight with anyone, especially him. Instead, he pulled out a photo from his pocket and slapped it down on the desk. "Recognize this guy?"

You hummed, glancing down at the photo briefly. It was the same guy from the news that was now residing in room 212. "Nah, never seen that man before in my life," you shrugged, completely disinterested. You weren't a snitch, and besides, your dad would have a conniption if he found out you went talking to the cops about one of the customers because it would 'ruin your reputation' as if the reputation of this place wasn't in the shitter already.

He searched your face, trying to detect any hint of a lie, but your expression was utterly blank, bored even. With a frustrated sigh, he snatched the photo back. "You sure about that? 'Cause I got a tip that he checked in not too long ago."

You laughed mockingly. "And you believe anything anyone here says? They'd frame their mamas for a packet of smokes and crumpled dollar bill," you scoffed, wondering who would have possibly called the cops. Half the people here were engaging in illegal activities, risking a police raid was a stupid fucking move.

"Well, if he does show up, you call me. Understand?" Sheriff Swanson ordered, stabbing a finger at you. He was clearly annoyed. Most of the people in this town bent to his will like he walked on water or something but not you or your dad. You two were considered outsiders because of your nonchalant attitude and seedy business dealings.

"Oh, so I'm doing your job for you now, Swanson?" You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest. "You want me to put on a little shiny gold star and citizen's arrest him?" That stupid fucking gold badge really pissed you off for some reason. What did he think this was? An old western film? It was time to retire the glorified cowboy hat and supervillain mustache. It wasn't cool ten years ago when he became sheriff, and it's not cool now.

"I'm not asking, I'm telling," he growled, his voice low and threatening. "This ain't no joke. That man's dangerous."

"Oh my gosh, a bad guy... whatever will I do?" You deadpanned, kicking your feet back up and grabbing your magazine, already bored with the conversation. You were hoping he would tire of your oh-so-witty and charming banter and just leave, so you could go back to dying of heat stroke and boredom without his grating voice in your ear.

"I swear to god, girl," he growled, slamming his hands down on the desk to scare you, but you didn't even flinch. You just turned the page of your magazine calmly. "You're as infuriating as your old man." He glared at you, clearly wanting to reach across the desk and throttle you.

"Unless you got a warrant, you can go," you said impassively, your eyes scanning the fashion page and debating whether you could pull that skirt off or not, clearly expecting the sheriff to see himself out.

Sheriff Swanson clenched his fists, glaring at you for a long moment. It infuriated him how dismissive you always were, but there was nothing he could do about it since freedom of speech meant you weren't technically breaking the law. "This ain't over," he spat before turning on his heel and stalking out, the bell chiming angrily as he shoved the door open.

"Uh huh," you hummed as he slammed the door behind him aggressively. "Men," you scoffed, rolling your eyes. You hoped that no one else would bother you, but you could only be so lucky. Unfortunately, you seemed to be very popular today, and the heat was making you bitchier than usual—not that you were that much less bitchy on a normal day.

Not fifteen minutes later, the man from the news walked back into the office, and you were sure that you were going to be on the news next if people didn't stop waltzing in here and demanding your attention. It wasn't like you were doing anything that particularly interested you. You just hated drama, and that was all the people of this town ever seemed to bring here.

"Whatever you want, I don't have it," you said the moment the door flung open. Your father told you to work the desk, so that's what you intended to do. Catering to the sleazy whims of all the customers that came in was not your job description.

"Why didn't you rat me out to the cops?" He asked, cutting right to this chase, his eyes boring into yours with an intensity that made you shift a little in your seat. He ignored your attitude, and seemingly, the remarks you made earlier, now just curious.

You shrugged nonchalantly, placing the magazine down for what seemed to be the millionth time in the span of an hour. "Because I couldn't care less about you or whatever you did."

"You should," he said menacingly, crossing his arms over his chest and stepping forward, clearly trying to scare you. Your eyes caught the movement of his biceps flexing before flicking back up to his face.

"Oh, please, spare me," you rolled your eyes, not the least bit intimidated by him.

"I killed someone," he tried to get you to see the gravity of the situation. He didn't like that you weren't afraid, that you didn't seem to care at all. "And you're sitting here acting like this is a fucking game?"

"I killed a man once," you said sincerely, watching his brows shoot up in surprise. "Nah, I'm just fucking with you," you snorted, cracking a smile for the first time since he'd met you, not that he'd known you all that long.

"Funny," he replied dryly, taking another step closer. His tall frame loomed over you, and you had to crane your neck to look up at him.

"Whatever," you breathed out, clearly finding yourself hilarious, even if he didn't. "Listen, I'm not gonna tell Sheriff Shithead or anyone else that you're here," you reassured him, still having hope that maybe he would fuck off and leave you alone. "Now, go find someone else to bother," you waved him off, standing from your seat and walking over to the vending machine in the corner.

You were unbelievably hot, the sweat coating your skin making you uncomfortable and sticky, which wasn't helping. You also couldn't deny that your temperature had gone up significantly when the man—whose name was Rafe, if you recalled correctly from the news report—walked in. Just because you didn't want anything to do with the trouble Rafe clearly left in his wake, didn't mean you were blind.

"You're not gonna ask why I killed her?" He asked curiously, following you over to the vending machine. If a murderer had shown up on his doorstep, he'd be a little more inclined to ask what happened. He watched you intently as you pressed the button for a cold soda, wiping your forehead with the back of your hand. He had to admit, you were hot as hell, even if you were insufferably annoying.

"How many times do I have to say 'I don't care' before people really start to get the message?" You huffed, stepping back and waiting for the soda to fall, but it never did. "Goddamn machine," you cursed, balling your hand into a fist and hitting the front of the machine hard. Almost instantly, the clanging of aluminum on metal rung out. "Aha," you rejoiced triumphantly, bending down to grab the can from the tray.

He watched as you grabbed the soda, then watched as you brought it to your lips and tilted your head back. His eyes dropped to your exposed neck, admiring the long column of your throat as you swallowed. This whole murderer thing had really taken its toll, and he hadn't got any in what felt like weeks, which felt like an eternity for someone like Rafe who loved sex.

You pulled the can away, looking over at him with furrowed brows as your tongue darted out to lick your lips. "You're really just gonna loom over me like a fucking weirdo while I work?" You asked, quirking an eyebrow.

"I'd hardly call sitting around and reading magazines all day 'working'," he scoffed, crossing his arms again. It's like he wanted to draw attention to his biceps, and damn, it was working.

"Fine, you really gonna loom over me like a fucking weirdo while I don't work?" You corrected, mirroring his actions and crossing your arms, the can dangling from your fingertips as you shot him a look.

"I'm not looming," he said defensively, taking a step back as if to prove that he wasn't. "I'm just standing here, talking to you. Why, is it bothering you?" He smirked mischievously, enjoying the way you rolled your eyes. You seemed to do that a lot, ever exasperated by every word that left everyone else's mouths.

"Yes, actually, it is," you said flatly, sitting on the edge of the desk and setting the half-consumed soda beside you. You stared at him, your annoyance evident in your gaze as you once again, crossed your arms. If he was gonna taunt you with his biceps and smart ass comments, you were gonna taunt him with your tits. Two could definitely play it that game.

His eyes immediately dropped to your chest, his gaze lingering on the way your arms pressed your boobs together, accentuating them. Your lack of a bra definitely wasn't helping, your nipples straining against the thin fabric. Damn, he loved a good pair of tits, and even through your shirt, he could tell you definitely had some of the best he'd ever seen.

"My eyes are up here, Rafe," you snapped, drawing his attention back to your face. He was a bit taken aback by you saying his name, seeing as he hadn't provided it to you, but he'd be lying if he said it didn't sound fucking hot coming from those pretty lips of yours.

"I know where your eyes are," he smirked, not looking the least bit ashamed as his gaze slowly dragged back up to your face, pausing at your lips before meeting your eyes.

"Perving on the girl who can send you to a federal penitentiary with one phone call isn't a wise move," you tsked, planting your palms on the desk behind you and leaning back casually, eyeing him. You didn't mind his eyes on you. In fact, you kind of liked it, but you liked being a pain in the ass more.

"And what're you gonna do, hmm?" He asked, taking a step forward, closing the distance between the two of you. He could practically feel the heat radiating from your body as he loomed over you. "Turn me in?" He scoffed, his smirk never wavering.

"You seemed pretty worried about it earlier," you pointed out, tilting your head to look up at him with a confident grin. You had a no getting involved rule, but you were quite literally hot and bothered right now, so maybe you could make an exception just this once.

"Well, that was before you made it clear that you 'don't care' as you so enthusiastically put it" he said, his voice dropping to a lower octave as he reached out, his fingertips trailing along your collarbone. "You're not gonna tell on me, are you, sweetheart?" He asked mockingly, knowing full well that you wouldn't, especially not after what he was about to do to you.

"Maybe I will," you said lowly, looking up at him with a challenging glint in your eye. "What are you gonna do about it, huh?"

He leaned down, his breath ghosting over your lips as he spoke. "I'm gonna shut you up," he said, his hand reaching up to wrap around your throat, applying just enough pressure to make your eyes widen. You looked up at him, still no trace of fear in your eyes as your lips parted at the feeling.

He leaned in, his mouth crashing against yours in a rough, needy kiss, his hand tightening slightly around your throat. He kissed you like he was starving, like he'd been deprived of oxygen, and he needed you more than he needed his next breath.

His other hand gripped your thigh tightly, pulling you to the edge of the desk, so he could press himself against you. You moaned into the kiss, the feeling of his tongue in your mouth and him manhandling you enough to make your head spin.

He swallowed your moan, his tongue delving deeper, exploring every inch of your mouth. The hand on your thigh slid upwards, his rough fingertips digging into your soft flesh. He was so hard it almost hurt, his cock straining against the denim as he ground against you.

"You should lock the door," you mumbled into his mouth, a little annoyed that his hair was buzzed, so you could run your fingers through it.

"Who cares?" He growled back, his teeth sinking into your neck as his hand slid up higher, brushing the hem of your little shorts. "You're letting a wanted fugitive fuck you. I'd be willing to bet you like the risk."

You let out a breathy moan, your head tilting to the side to allow him better access as your nails raked gently along his scalp. "Asshole," you muttered, not appreciating his rude, but accurate, assessment of you.

"Mhm," he hummed against your neck, his hand sliding higher to hook into the waistband of your shorts. "You like that, though, don't you?" You didn't reply, instead, shifting to help him slide off your shorts and underwear. You weren't really interested in small talk right now.

He groaned at your eagerness, his hand leaving you momentarily to quickly undo his belt and free himself from the confines of his jeans. If you didn't want to waste time with foreplay, he sure as hell wasn't going to fight you on that. After all, he was kind of on borrowed time. He didn't know how long it would be before the cops came back here looking for him.

He grabbed your thighs again, roughly spreading your legs apart and positioning himself between them. With one swift motion, he buried his hard length inside you, a loud groan escaping you as he felt your walls stretch to accommodate the intrusion. You let out a sound between a gasp and a moan, your hand gripping his big bicep for purchase as he thrust into you at a dizzying pace.

He set a brutal rhythm, pounding into you with no care for gentleness. He was too far gone, too desperate for the feeling of being inside you. His hand came up to wrap around your throat again, using it as leverage as he drove his hips forward, causing a needy whine to force it's way past your lips. The burn from him stretching your tight walls coupled with the pleasure of him fucking and choking you had you practically on cloud nine.

"Shit, look at you. This sweet little pussy was made for my dick," he groaned, seeing the look of pure ecstacy on your face as your walls seemed to pull him in with each thrust.

His own face was scrunched up in concentration, his jaw clenched as he fought to hold back. He wanted this to last. He wanted to brand himself into your memory so you'd think of him every time you sat in this office, every time you laid down to sleep, every time you touched yourself in the shower. He wanted you to remember how you let a murderer defile you.

You were a mess of moans and whines as his tip repeatedly hit your g-spot, knocking the breath from your lungs with each thrust. Sure, you'd been fucked before, but never like this, never with a guy that could probably put you in a headlock and choke you out—and you'd probably like it. He was good, and he knew it.

He smirked arrogantly, his hand around your throat tightening slightly. "I'm gonna fill this needy little pussy so full, gonna make you remember that you're a dirty fucking girl for letting me do this to you," he said lowly, his words holding a vaguely threatening edge, but you didn't care. They only served to turn you on more, pushing you closer to your peak as his thumb slid down to play with your sensitive clit.

He could tell you were close, your breath hitching every time he bottomed out inside of you. He groaned as his movements grew jerky, his own finish nearing. "Come for me, baby. Let me feel this greedy cunt squeeze my cock."

"Shit, Rafe," you moaned, your nails digging painfully into his bicep as your walls clamped down around him, your release washing over you. The feeling of your walls bearing down around him triggered his own orgasm, hitting him like a freight train. His vision practically blurred as he emptied himself deep inside of you, his cock pulsing with each spurt. He held you in place, his hand around your throat, as he rode out his climax, painting your insides with his cum.

"Fuck," you panted, your head tilting back and eyes fluttering closed as you caught your breath. Maybe this job had a certain... charm. Though, it was only just now occurring to you that you let this man cum inside you, and he didn't even know your name.

He stayed buried inside you for a long moment, his softening cock twitching with the aftershocks. Then, with a grunt, he pulled out and tucked himself away without another word, not that you expected much from a guy who was so eager to give you a quick fuck on a desk where anyone could have found you.

You hopped off the desk, retrieving your underwear and shorts to slip them back on, trying to ignore the feeling of his cum seeping out of you. You definitely needed a long shower and maybe a moment of silent reflection after what you just did.

He watched you dress with a critical eye, his gaze lingering on your body, as if committing it to memory. "Guess I should be going before the cops decide to come knocking again," he said casually, as if he hadn't just fucked you senseless.

"Guess so," you said, your seemingly apathetic attitude returning as you crossed your arms and regarded him with that same uninterested look that you'd given him when he first walked in here. You knew what you were getting into. You weren't an idiot. He was still on the run from the cops, and you were still just a motel worker in bumfuck nowhere.

He gave you a nod, his expression unreadable as he turned and strode to the door. He paused with his hand on the knob, glancing back at you over his shoulder. "You didn't tell me your name," he commented, his voice low. He wasn't sure why he cared. The chances of seeing you again were abysmal, but he was curious.

"No, I didn't," you said flatly, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips, threatening to betray your nonchalant demeanor.

He studied your face for a moment, trying to decide if he should press the issue or just leave. Something about you, about this moment felt... important. He couldn't quite place the odd but distinctive feeling, but still, he found himself saying, "Next time you see me, I expect you to tell me your name."

You raised an eyebrow at his presumptuous words. You hardly expected to see him again, given the whole fugitive thing, but you decided to humor him. "If I see you again, I will."

He nodded, seeming to accept your response, before turning and leaving without another word, the door shutting a little harsher than he intended behind him. As he walked to the car he'd stolen to keep the cops off his ass, he couldn't shake the feeling that this encounter, this girl, meant something more than just a quick fuck in the office of a seedy motel.

tags .ᐟ   @starkeysprincess / @cometmultiverse / @iheartjjmaybnk / @all4l0vee / @kissesfrmriri / @xoxohoneymoongirl / @bradshawed / @fallbhind

[zorosangell]

I LOVE INN!!! I love devoted pathetic men! I need to see them during the time skip tho! What if during the two year training arc (idk who or what she trains under, you can make that up) she happens to stop by the same island zoro and mihawk where stopping by on their way back to Gloom island. It’s been well over a year since they’ve seen each other, and it’s been pure torture for them both (and also the inconvenience of zoro relearning how to properly shine his own swords and fold his laundry the special way he likes it). I’d like to see your take on this!

⛥ﾟ・。 bento

synopsis: part two of inn -- you and zoro have a heartfelt reunion on the sabaody archipelago... with the help of a kindly fisherman.

cw: fluffy fluff, comfort, zoro is DOWN BAD for reader, reader's a cutie, fools pining pretty much.

a/n: i love writing zoro like this

"Hey, gramps," Zoro started, yanking open the flap and entering Isamu's Fresh Fish tent, his eye snapping over to the old man hunched in the corner. "I'm lookin' to do some fishing."

Confused, Old Man Isamu halted his movement, looking up from his basket of lures to find the infamous, three-sword wielding pirate hunter.

Roronoa Zoro.

Of course, being a lonely old man who lived on the outskirts of Sabaody Archipelago, he had no idea who he was.

I mean, why would he need to know?

But even still, he couldn't help the shiver that rolled down his spine at the sight of the moss-head's scowl, its intensity sending a slight pang of fear through the man's old heart.

"No offense, young man, but I wouldn't exactly peg you as the fishing type..."

Zoro sighed, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Normally, you'd be right... I'm supposed to be meeting some friends on this island, but they haven't made it yet, so I'm bored out of my skull."

Scratching the side of his face, he glanced out to sea, a certain sense of homesickness plaguing his chest.

"I used to have someone to do this for me... but she's not around right now. So I need something to keep me entertained while I wait."

It felt odd offering to do the fishing himself, as he could barely even remember the last time he picked up a fishing rod.

But the feeling was nothing new, as for the last two years the swordsman had been forced to take up the tasks that you had been so insistent on doing for him.

Fishing... Laundry... Shining his swords...

Even dressing his wounds, which, although Perona did for him, still didn't feel the same as when you did it.

It wasn't long before he realized how much he took you for granted, and how subpar his domestic skills were in comparison to yours.

He bristled, annoyed with the aching throb of his heart.

God, he felt pathetic...

A measly two years apart, and all of a sudden he was a ship without a rudder.

"So, you think you can help me out or not?" he asked, snapping himself out of his thoughts.

"Sure. I'll finish getting everything we need ready and then meet you on my boat right over there," Isamu nodded with a warm smile, standing to his full height and pointing toward a small fishing boat moored to the shore. "We'll have to wait a moment, though. A young woman is supposed to be joining me."

Zoro's brow raised, intrigued.

"Young woman?" he asked, expecting some elaboration.

"Why yes! She's been fishing with me for the past two days and is just such a sweetheart!" the old man gushed. "She went into town to go grab us some lunch before we left. Said something about picking up some polishing equipment, too."

That caught the swordsman's attention.

"Polishing equipment?"

"Yeah, for swords," Isamu nodded, leaning in a little closer to the swordsman and lowering his voice. "Between you and me... I think her boyfriend's a pirate. I always catch her lookin' out at the sea, like she's waitin' for something."

He gave Zoro a pat on the back with a small chuckle, a little sorry.

"It's a shame. If I hadn't known, I would've introduced you two. Y'look like her type."

Intrigued, Zoro looked down at himself, fighting off the thunder in his chest.

'Could it be...?'

"What'd she look like?" Zoro asked, straight to the point. "About this tall? (h/l), (h/c) hair? (s/c) skin? Nice (e/c) eyes? Pretty smile?"

Quickly, he shoved his hand into his robe, hurriedly rummaging around until his fingers locked on a piece of crumbled paper.

"Like this?" he asked, hopefully, pulling out your wanted poster and holding it up for the old man to see.

He'd managed to get his hands on it when he joined Mihawk on a grocery run and found it posted up on a fruit stall.

When no one was looking, he shoved it in his pocket, and kept it with him ever since.

Sure, it was a little stalker-ish, but when it came to you he didn't really care.

"Yes! That's her!" Isamu nodded, turning to the man. "She said she's been waiting for some friends to show, too!"

Instantly, the pieces clicked, the old man suddenly realizing your relationship with the swordsman.

He was he thing you were looking out to sea for.

With a knowing smirk, he gave Zoro a slight nudge, amused.

"Oh, ho ho! You must be the fella she's been searchin' for..." he grinned, almost as a congratulations. "You're a lucky guy! She reminds me of my Emi."

With a faint roll of his eyes, Zoro sighed, trying to muffle the burn of his cheeks by turning away.

That is... until a familiar voice cut through the air.

"Hey, watch it, asshole! That bento's for the old man!" you spat, the sound of a scuffle occurring in a nearby alleyway.

'(y/n)!'

An embarrassing amount of excitement soared through his chest, a certain glimmer returning to his eye at the sound of your voice.

Springing into action, he sprinted toward the noise, quickly drawing his sword.

Whoever was on the other side of the altercation wasn't going to be standing by the end of it.

"Wait, young man!"

But Isamu was too late, as the swordsman was already at the mouth of the alley.

Bring his feet to a screeching halt, Zoro lowered himself into an offensive stance, taking a gauge of the situation as he prepped his attack.

You were standing off with a large man, who was about five times your size, huge with muscles and practically cracked out on testosterone.

An opponent like him would've sent you running for the hills two years ago.

But you stared him down with conviction, a small smirk quirking on your lips.

And without warning, you broke into a sprint, charging the man head on.

You had to calculate this just right, or you were going to get squashed like a bug.

Zoro watched with surprise as you used your running start to slide between the thug's legs, nimbly scaling his body like a tree and swirling yourself around to pull him off balance.

"The hell?!"

He tried to grab at you, but your movements were too quick and it wasn't long before you were sat right on his shoulders, your thighs locking tightly around his neck.

"Gimme back the damn bento, you bastard!"

Effortlessly, you threw around your body weight, flipping both of you over and slamming his head into the ground, creating a small crater.

But you weren't done.

With a soft grunt, and a small jerk of your legs, you twisted his neck with a sickening crack—the action sending a warm tingle through Zoro's stomach.

He'd be a liar if he said he didn't find your demonstration incredibly hot.

You pulled yourself up off the ground with a chuckle, using your foot to poke the man, who was down for the count, before snatching the lunchbox back from his grasp.

"Have a nice nap," you wished, cheekily, pulling down your eyelid and sticking out your tongue.

But, when you turned your attention to the alley's exit, your eyes landed on a certain green-haired swordsman—the star of a multitude of different daydreams you'd enjoyed throughout your two years apart.

Time seemed to slow down as your eyes met, him having been staring at you since he entered the alley.

'Gods...'

He was huge, way more muscular than what he once was, and now donned a scar on his left eye, which was permanently shut.

His chest was exposed in his robe, showing off his big pecs, and his hair was still just as green and unruly as you remembered.

Lighting up like the world's brightest Christmas tree, you let out a loud, dramatic gasp, dropping the lunchbox in shock.

"Zoro!" you cheesed, completely forgetting about the bento as you rushed toward him.

"(y/n)! You made it!" Zoro broke into a wide grin, utterly relieved to see you were okay.

Launching yourself into his arms, you tackled him to the ground, pulling him into you as he let out a few laughs at your enthusiasm.

"Ah! Look at you! Those muscles! That hair! You look great! I missed you!" you squealed, ecstatic to see your favorite guy in the flesh.

Though, in your excitement, you had failed to realize you were suffocating the swordsman with your breasts.

"Mished you, twoo!" he nodded, muffled, frantically patting your back. "But yer killin' me!"

Finally noticing, you quickly pulled back, flashing him a sheepish smile.

Relieved, he took in an aggressive gasp, before turning to you with his grin once again.

"That was a new special move, huh? I've never seen you do something like that before!" he asked, eagerly.

"You noticed, eh?" you raised a brow. "Yeah, it's a maneuver my master taught me back on Kibi, a martial arts island."

A proud smirk rose to your lips, having waited to tell him of your success for so long.

"It was hard work... and I got knocked on my ass a bunch... but the monks at my temple managed to beat some kung fu techniques into me," you cheesed, cheekily. "I might not be on par with you yet... but it's only a matter of time."

His eyes found yours, and the way you were looking at him made his chest roar.

You were making it a bit hard for him to focus.

He was already holding himself back on a thread of sanity, and now he had to deal with the fact that you looked like a goddess in human form, and smelled of cocoa butter and vanilla.

Your curves were curvier, your hips were dippier, and you now had an unspoken confidence that could bring any man to his knees.

Literally and figuratively.

You had him like a hook on a line, only he didn't want to be set free.

You found his eyes, slightly confused, as his expression morphed into one you'd never seen.

"I. Love. You." he stated, firm and breathless.

Your eyes shot wide, a sharp tinge of red burning onto your cheeks.

The floodgates were opened.

There was no going back.

Without a moment's hesitation, he pressed his lips against yours, hard, unloading well over two years worth of pining.

You sank into it almost immediately, matching his fervor as you rested your hands on his chest, grabbing him by this robe and pulling him even closer.

The two of you moved together in perfect sync, fitting like puzzle pieces, as you kept up with his rhythm.

He grasped you by the small of your back, pressing you further into him and giving your hips a little squeeze, earning a quiet squeak.

Close wasn't close enough.

He wanted you even closer than that.

He wanted you so much, every part of him in contact with you was on fire.

But, alas, you two were human, and air would need eventually.

The two of you separated with a gasp, cheeks flushed and foreheads resting on each other.

"I don't think you have any idea how long I've been waiting to do that," he smirked, catching his breath.

You smiled, sliding your hands up from his chest to his shoulders.

"I think I do," you confessed, looking up at him with those sparkling, (e/c) eyes of yours.

'Fuuuuuuck...'

He leaned in closer, about to say something else when, of course, he was interrupted.

"Hate to break up a touchin' moment, kids..." Old Man Isamu chimed with a knowing smirk, the two of you snapping your heads up with surprise. "But might I suggest the inn across the street?"

You both separated, for real this time, and stood up, you straightening out the wrinkles in your clothes as you glanced at the building.

Without warning, Zoro scooped you up and tossed you over his shoulder, forcing you to yelp in surprise as he turned around to walk across the street.

"Zoro!"

"Thanks, old man!" Zoro waved with his free-hand, unable to fight the pep in his step as his grip tightened around your thighs.

He cracked a smile, glancing at you on his shoulder with an expression Isamu could only attribute to a man in love.

"Your bento's somewhere over there, sir!" you called, limp, and horribly embarrassed as your swordsman dragged you away. "I'm so sorry!"

"Don't worry, dear!" Isamu assured, waving back. "You kids be safe!"

It made his day to see two young people so utterly smitten with each other, as that seemed to be slowly becoming a rarity.

You both reminded him so much of how he and Emi used to be...

Even still, he couldn't help but dreamily sigh, watching as you two entered the inn, playfully bickering like an old, married couple.

'Ah, young love...'

[scealaiscoite]

fantasy setting prompts ˗ˏˋ ꒰ 🕊️ ꒱

¹⁾ a darkened apothecary illuminated only by the light somehow being emitted by the many bottles and jars lining the walls

²⁾ the banquet hall of a nobleman’s sprawling estate, in the throes of a lavish ball attended by everyone in the townland

³⁾ at a healer’s cabin in the dead of night, overwhelmed by adrenaline and the scent of countless tinctures and remedies as they’re applied

⁴⁾ the last imperial guardpost before crossing into enemy lands

⁵⁾ a run-down inn in the middle of nowhere, half reclaimed by the woodlands around it

⁶⁾ a lake set deep into the mountains with something sinister lurking beneath the surface

⁷⁾ the first port in a new land after weeks at sea trying to get there

⁸⁾ the highest turret in the royal family’s castle on a wintery morning

⁹⁾ the war council’s planning room, the morning after a bloody defeat

¹⁰⁾ an alchemist’s workshop

¹¹⁾ the stables just before daybreak

¹²⁾ the impromptu camp that the leader of the journey had to be begged into allowing after everyone else grew exhausted from being on the road all day

¹³⁾ the army barracks before a battle

¹⁴⁾ the last altar of a dying god’s religion

¹⁵⁾ the empress’s chambers, trussed up in nothing more than silken bedsheets and the morning sunshine

¹⁶⁾ the bedside of an old mentor, right before the end

¹⁷⁾ on the wrong end of a traitor’s sword

¹⁸⁾ a beast’s underground lair, alone and unarmed

¹⁹⁾ the thick of the enemy’s encampment, shackled and unrepentant

²⁰⁾ the mage’s quarters, having seen something there’s no worldly explanation for

²¹⁾ the armoury in the late hours of the night, stinking of polish and tears

²²⁾ in the throne room of the imperial citadel with an ulterior motive

²³⁾ by the scholar’s side in the library, eager for a little more than knowledge

²⁴⁾ an alehouse in the dead countryside, hoping not to be found

²⁵⁾ the executioner’s platform seeking for just one face in the crowd

[marchofmistria]

A Nice Contrast

A/N: This is my first Fields of Mistria fic so I hope you like it! It's based off March's autumn dialogue when you speak to him at the forge and he tells you that it's nice and warm in contrast to the cold outside <3

Planning to cross-post this to AO3, and will update this post with the link when I do.

Summary: March helps you warm up by the forge when it starts to cool down in Mistria.

Word Count: 2,127

Tags: March x Reader, gender-neutral reader (2nd person), hurt/comfort, fluff AO3 link here!

The summer bled into autumn and it was officially cold in Mistria. You felt like you barely had time to catch up, and the first two seasons you spent in the town sped by so fast you could scarcely remember to enjoy the season before it was over. Days at the beach with friends felt long and restful in the moment, and now they let out to a short and cool autumn when a farmer's work is hardest. Your wardrobe had yet to catch up to the change in Mistrian weather, however, and unpacking your warmer clothes was on the to-do list. However, a late start to the day after a late night in the mines and that plan was gone.

It was already 2PM by the time you had finished your daily tasks on your farm. The crops were watered and they had just begun to peer out of the dark soil. Your animals were fed and seemed happy. You sat down for a moment next to Caldarus, chatting with him as you untied your hair and changed out of your farming gloves. There were errands to do today, after all, and Mistria certainly did not rest for you.

As you fell into the swing of the day, your morning plans were quickly and totally forgotten. You didn't have much of a chance to notice; you felt warm from running around the whole town for hours. These townsfolk sure knew how to run you to the ground. First it was a delivery for Balor, then a chat with Nora before returning to Balor, then a trip to the museum to discuss a new finding with Eiland and Errol, some fishing for Reina's new dish at the Inn tonight, and a quick trip to the mines to repair a chip in the metal of your shovel.

Your body had gotten stronger in the last few months since arriving to the small town, but you felt exhausted regardless. Days felt like they ended too soon as is, but as you left the mines, you were truly surprised by the incoming dark. How did it get so late so fast?

The feeling really set in once you set off to the forge to smelt your findings. The breeze blew your hair back and out of your face, exposing your shoulders further and starting a chill down your arms. You felt thirsty and very hungry and realized you missed lunch and would miss dinner if you didn't hurry.

Wanting to catch March before he left the forge for his own dinner, you hurried on, wrapping your arms protectively around your shoulders for some mock-warmth. It did little to help, and you had begun to feel a bit lightheaded.

March seemed to be finishing his work day just as you were arriving, although you knew he would leave the forge hot for you to use at all hours. He had grown accustomed to your habits, knowing how busy you were throughout the day and that you might come to the forge even late at night to squeeze as much into the day as you could before you passed out from exhaustion.

When you finally stumbled up to him, he addressed you with a curt "Hey," his usual attempt at appearing nonchalant. Just as he had grown accustomed to your habits, you had gotten to know his as well. You had gotten pretty good at giving whatever he gave you right back to him, and your conversations were at the point of total ease.

But rather than shooting the shit with him as you usually did, well enough to break down his boundaries to show even some vulnerability (a shock to anyone who had ever spoken to March), you ignored his greeting and rested your hand on the anvil for support. At this point, you felt like it was the only thing supporting your weight up.

March, who often couldn't help but observe you closely whenever you were near him, noticed right away and rushed over to you. His brows knit together, he put a strong arm under your arm for you to lean into. You all but collapsed into his support for a moment, before regaining a bit of strength and using your legs to lift yourself up a bit more again.

"What's wrong?" March asked, an arm still around your torso in case you fully passed out on him. His heart beat faster, worry showing on every feature. As soon as your head stopped spinning a moment later, you looked into his eyes and saw his concern. He couldn't even try and hide his real feelings like he usually did.

You blushed as soon as you realized how close your faces were to each other. The closest they'd ever been, you both quickly noted before pulling away from each other slightly. March did not withdraw his support though, despite the blush that was tinging the tips of his ears.

"Hey, did you hear me? What's wrong? Should I call Valen?" March asked again, concern growing as you didn't answer his first question. Your mind swam back into focus when March reached his hand up, moving your hair out of your face to feel your forehead with his hand. You closed your eyes at the warmth. His hands were rough against the skin of your forehead, but the warmth spread throughout your body.

"O-oh, sorry! I just got dizzy for a second..." You finally stuttered out. The crease between March's brows lessened slightly, but was still visible. He didn't move his hand away from your face. "I think I'm just tired from the mines, and I realized I didn't eat much today. I'll be fine though."

"What the hell? Why didn't you eat anything, dumbass?" March all but barked at you. You couldn't help but smile a bit to yourself. So this is what it looks like when March worried about you...

"Charming as ever, March," you replied quietly, hoping to ease some of his worry and show that you really were okay. But as soon as that signature smirk reappeared, pulling up the corner of his lips, it was gone as you tried to walk again and stumbled once more. The dizziness was back, and you were worried that he may be right about the fever after all.

"Hey, hey... you should sit down. Don't try and stand up again," March commanded, lowering you gently to the ground. You didn't think March was capable of touching anything so gently, let alone you. He kneeled down at your side and made sure you were comfortable with your back propped against the outer wall of his house. "You're freezing... why aren't you dressed more warmly?"

You had nearly forgotten how chilly you'd gotten, and his comment caused a shiver to run down your spine. March had you scoot a bit closer to the fire in the forge. "It's warm by the forge," March said quietly, taking your hands in his and pulling them a bit closer to the fire in an attempt to warm you up a bit faster. "You shouldn't hang around in the cold too long. Especially in what you're wearing! What were you thinking?"

"March, I'm fine. I promise. I'm just a bit tired." You said weakly, hoping to provide reassurance once more (even though you didn't want him to let go of your hands quite yet. The warmth felt too good, both from the forge and from your closeness.)

"Like hell you are. You're gonna sit here while I go find Valen, got it?" You didn't dare defy him while looking into his sharp eyes. "Will you be okay a few minutes alone?" he said, the softness seeping through yet again. Your head was reeling from this contrast alone, and you nodded. March looked back at you one more time as if to verify the truth, his eyes softening as you leaned your head back to rest against the side of the house once more. Just before he left, he took off his brown jacket, throwing it on your lap before he turned and walked to Valen's clinic with speed.

As you waited for March to return with the doctor, you shrugged the jacket onto your cold shoulders. You couldn't help but note how comforting it smelled. It was the same pleasant smell you noticed when March leaned closer to you as you worked at the forge, observing your work and chiming in with helpful comments. It was also the same smell you enjoyed when March all but pulled you to his side at the Inn when he had a couple of beers in him. The warmth spread from your nose to the rest of your body. The smell of a crackling fire, leather, a bit of sweat (not at all unpleasant), and even... chocolate.

You had nearly fallen asleep in the pleasure of the smell alone when you heard March's deep voice coming up the cobblestone path to you. "—seemed like she was gonna faint. She told me she hadn't eaten anything all day, and looked like she was freezing her ass off."

Without a greeting, Valen knelt down to you eye level, checking your forehead with her hand before asking to put a thermometer in your mouth. You noticed how different her hands felt from March's. Soft, gentle, and a bit cold. Clinical was the right word.

"March, please go down to the Inn and grab them a bowl of soup, would you? That would be just the thing, I think." March went right away, as if he was tempted to do just that before Valen had given him the instruction.

"Y/N, you need to take better care of yourself. This behavior is a bit concerning to me, and it seems to March as well. Which, alone, says something, no?" Valen smiled knowingly. She gave you a bottle of water to sip on, and asked if you were still feeling dizzy. You were not. Just plain tired.

"You're running yourself to the ground with work, which I can't say I'm too happy about in the first place. But to make matters worse, skipping meals? Not dressing for the cold weather?" Valen chastised lightly. You were embarrassed that your lack of self-care had caught up with you, and now it was a problem for others as well. You hadn't meant to make anyone worry, which you expressed to Valen.

"You're right. It won't happen again. I'll make sure to take better care of myself," you said softly. "Sorry to make you worry..." Valen chuckled, surprised by your humbleness. "No need to apologize to me. We just want you to be healthy. You may not realize it, but everyone in this town has really grown to care for you. I know you want to take on everyone's problems, but I really think people would be more grateful if you watched out for yourself before you burn out all your energy."

Cheeks burning, all you could muster was a nod of your head. March returned with the soup in his hands. The steam that rose from it looked so incredibly appealing. March sat down next to you. "Have enough strength to hold the bowl or do I need to feed you?" March scoffed.

You shook your head, offering a small smile and thanking Valen again when she told you to monitor your condition and find her right away if you felt bad again. March sat next to you as you took spoonful after spoonful of the delicious vegetable soup. March said nothing, but in the silence you could tell he was making sure you finished every drop in the bowl. As soon as you had taken the last spoonful, March removed the bowl from your hands and set it down on the floor. "I'll bring this back later," said March.

"Do you think you can stand? I'll walk you back to your house," March sighed, extending his hand out for you to grab. The combination of the soup, the fire in the forge, and the presence of March next to you made you regain much of your strength. You grabbed March's hand and used it as leverage to pull yourself up to stand. Still wearing his brown leather jacket, the two of you set off in the direction of your farm.

It was only after March saw your front door close behind you and the lights flip on in your bedroom that he turned to head back home. Something about the thought of his jacket in your bedroom made his heart beat faster, and you both fell asleep that night heated by the feeling of each others proximity that lingered and left its warmth in you through the entire night.

[fangswbenefits]

The Arrangement (10) - A New Way

Chapter summary: Astarion always find a way back to you even in the midst of all the chaos.

Pairing: Astarion x female!Tav

Warnings: 18+. Sexual frustration. Jealous Astarion. Protective Astarion. Fingering. Masturbation. Cumplay. Innuendo. Body worship.

Word count: 7.3k

Author's note: Tumblr isn't allowing me to reply to comments ever since I changed my @... already contacted support. I am not ignoring you guys *deep sigh*

Ao3

Series Masterlist

Rivington had its fair share of taverns and inns sprawled across its busy and lively streets. It was surely a welcome change from the grim and daunting sense of dread that loomed over you when travelling across the shadowlands. 

As such, the group had split to indulge in some brief moments of well deserved and welcome repose before finally reaching Baldur’s Gate.

Astarion sat across from you, subtlety eyeing his surroundings as you happily sipped your apple juice. 

The sun had yet to reach its peak but the tavern was already crawling with drunkards and unpleasant crowds. 

“We shouldn’t linger.” Astarion mused with arms crossed.

You nodded. “I’m nearly done.”

As much as you wished to forget about the troubling matters that haunted you, it was evident that your presence was earning some unwanted curious stares from a few onlookers. 

He suddenly reached for the pouch at his hip, withdrawing a piece of fabric before extending his hand to you.

“Here.”

You took it in your hand, briefly admiring its silky texture of the handkerchief as shades of teal and green swirled together in mesmerising patterns.

Then your fingers found golden letters sewn along one corner. 

Your name.

Your heart was clenched tight as you traced each letter in absolute awe.

“Astarion, this is…”

He waved a hand dismissively. “Oh, think nothing of it, darling. You’re often covered in blood and sweat and Gods know what other fluids,” he said with a curt smile. “I figured you might as well look stylish whilst wiping that pretty face of yours.”

There he was.

So easily crawling under your skin with his words and now with such a thoughtful gift that fully displayed his artistry and exceptional needlework.

A lump in your throat held your words back.

Maybe he didn’t consider this gesture all that relevant or even worthy of a lingering thought, but you did.

This was a silent extension of him.

Now you’d have him by your heart at all times.

But the moment was cut short as a loud bang rippled across your table.

A man reeking of cheap mead cackled loudly at you. He was swaying so violently it was an incredible feat that he was able to stand on both feet without losing balance.

“Oi! Aren’t you that gal from a few years ago who did magic tricks?”

Your blood ran cold at once and your insides twisted into several knots.

“I don’t think so.” you said, focusing your gaze on the drink in front of you.

You didn’t recognise him, but you silently prayed he would just drop the matter and leave.

Instead, he hiccuped. “N-No! It is you! I would never forget such a face.”

Your eyes met Astarion’s momentarily as he narrowed his crimson eyes at the loud drunkard, and you reckoned he was close to intervening. 

You mustered your strength. “No. It’s not me.”

But the man was insistent as he was drunk.

He banged a hand on the wooden surface once more. “What? You are the one whose mother–”

The flash of a dagger pierced through your field of vision, landing right between the man’s fingers, the blade pressed menacingly against his thumb.

“She said ‘no’,” he said through gritted teeth, eyes flaring with contempt. “Should I teach you the meaning of the word?”

The man shuddered and cowered in fear as he strolled away as fast as his wobbly steps would allow.

But Astarion had overdone it and had simultaneously caused many heads to turn your way, voices whispering as people tried to make out what the fuss was all about.

“We’ve overstayed our welcome,” he said, sheathing his dagger as he stood up.

You remained frozen in place, still taken aback by the words the man had spewed at you.

Your mind had been kept too busy to dive back into the memories of your mother, and to dwell on what had happened so many years ago.

A shudder spread across your entire body as the sense of dread gripped you.

You felt his hand nudge your shoulder. “Now’s not the time for daydreaming, sweetheart.”

And he quickly tugged at your arm, pulling you up on your feet before the two of you scurried along the tavern and earning heavy glares.

You made it out just in time as two Fists crossed paths with you on their way inside, trying to disperse the crowd that had gathered around the entryway.

“What was that all about?” Astarion asked as soon as you were able to blend in with the passers-by. 

“Nothing.”

Your mouth had gone awfully dry even though you had downed most of your apple juice, replenishing your hydration level. 

He stared at you, raising a brow inquisitively. “He did actually know you, didn’t he?”

You met his gaze in a silent warning. “He must have had me confused with someone else.”

He rolled his eyes. “You’re a terrible liar, but I will not pry. We all have secrets to bear.”

You nodded, thankful for his understanding remark.

There was no point in lying to him. He could always see right through your silly attempts at deception. 

“Just know that you can come to me should you need to air them out,” he added. “I know all too well how buried secrets always find a way to crawl to the surface – one way or another.”

It was a glaring testament to how he had come to terms with opening up to someone else.

He had come far in that regard and you felt proud of him.

A faint smile settled on your lips, but it faded just as quickly once realisation hit you.

“Wait!” you said, gripping his arm. “The handkerchief – I left it there. Let me–”

He patted your back. “Leave it, darling. Unless you fancy starting a tavern brawl, that is.”

Your heart dropped.

“But…”

“I will embroider you a new one.”

But he never did.

There was no point in lying to Astarion.

You were very well aware of this.

He would spot your deceit faster than a hawk could tail its prey.

But the dreadful sense of impending doom had rooted you to the sofa.

This couldn’t all just be a coincidence. 

By the time the two of you had reached the room, Gale and Lae’zel had already vanished through a portal to Waterdeep to assess the situation. 

“All we can do for now is wait.” Astarion said, adjusting his shirt. 

Shadowheart scoffed. “This is all very odd. It’s as if something is at work against us.”

You nodded. “I agree.”

“Are the two of you in some competition to see who’s the most dramatic?” he said with a click of his tongue. “Honestly, we know nothing about what happened. Maybe his contact succumbed to self-inflicted boredom – a running theme amongst wizards.”

His sense of humour would have been welcome under different circumstances, but you were on the brink of freaking out.

“Maybe I could cast Arcane Gate and help out…” you said in a restless tone, feeling nauseous.

But the mage slayer outside kept your magic levels too low for you to successfully cast a level six conjuration spell, so it was not even an option.

Astarion immediately snorted as he joined your side. “Perish the thought. I don’t think it’d be wise to do such a thing given your condition. You might open a portal to some place infested with murderous creatures, and then I’ll have to jump in to rescue you.”

Shadowheart, who had been pacing worriedly across the room, came to an immediate halt. “What condition?”

You rubbed your temples as if it would magically dissipate the gnawing headache.

“I had too much to drink last night.”

Shadowheart’s accusatory stare immediately landed on Astarion. “What did you do?”

He scoffed dramatically. “Excuse me? I am well aware that pinning the blame on me is a recurring activity in this group, but I had nothing to do with this.”

You groaned with a wince. “Please keep your voices down…”

Shadowheart rushed to lower herself by your feet until she could eye-level with you. “Are you all right?”

No.

And it had little to do with the aftermath of your alcohol consumption.

Ava.

Your intuition was pounding ceaselessly in your mind and you just couldn’t bring yourself to ignore it any longer.

Yes, she had told you she would talk to Astarion, but your nerves were being eaten raw and time wasn’t something you could afford to spare.

“I… think I need to talk about something…” you began as a shiver tore through your body.

Shadowheart gripped your knees, her face twisted in alarmed worry. “What is it?”

You exchanged a glare with Astarion who eyed you in confusion.

“I met up with Ava last night and…” You paused briefly, pondering your next words. “She made an offering.”

His brows furrowed together. “What offering?”

You felt sweat coat your palms as your heart rate quickened in distress. “She’s under the impression someone is after us,” you said, clutching your hands together. “That whoever it is might be responsible for that dead body and us getting wrongfully arrested.”

Shadowheart was now gripping your knees firmly. “And what did she offer?”

Your leg was visibly shaking now as you were finding it harder to keep your composure.

“Apparently, when Astarion feeds on me, our blood mixes together and…”

As far as you were aware, Shadowheart wasn’t aware of his deal with Ava, so you decided to hold that information.

“She’s interested in that… mixture and wants access to it in exchange for information.”

The effect your words had was nearly catastrophic. 

Shadowheart looked positively scandalised and Astarion immediately gripped your arm, snarling, “ What? ”

He was instantly on his feet and you followed suit.

“How would she even have access to that in the first place?” she asked in awe.

Astarion spoke before you could, “I’ve been giving her some of my blood as she researches ways to counter the effects of vampirism. But I wasn’t aware of this!”

“ Astarion! ” Shadowheart let out in sheer outrage. “What in the Hells is wrong with you?”

He ignored her remark, eyes fixed on you.

He was mad.

No.

He was furious.

Up until this point, you had only ever witnessed him protect Ava and vouched for her integrity, but it seemed that he was no longer interested in upholding his defence. 

“She told me she would tell you of this as she only recently found out about it.”

“To Hells with that!” he snarled. “Did you agree to that arrangement?”

Silence

But that was answer enough.

“You should have told me!”

You swallowed the uncomfortable lump in your throat. “You never listen to me when it comes to her!”

He clicked his tongue in annoyance. “This is different!”

“How?!”

Crimson eyes locked with yours as he scowled deeply. “She involved you!”

His admission stunned you into silence.

It wasn’t all that common nowadays to witness Shadowheart succumb to her protective instinct to the point of no return.

But you could tell she was close to snapping when she approached Astarion, yellow flames dangerously swirled across her palms.

“Give me one good reason not to blast this Ava into oblivion,” she growled with ire. “Or you, for that matter.”

He gave her a mocking scoff. “Darling, I’d love to see you try.”

She smiled deviously and you knew it was time to intervene. 

You carefully placed your hand on her arm. “Shadowheart.”

She glanced at you almost in disbelief. “‘Shadowheart’? He’s out here dealing with dodgy people and putting us all at risk! Now she’s also involved with murdering people in Waterdeep?”

Astarion let out an exasperated groan. “What connection is there between the two, then?”

In all honesty, you weren’t quite sure.

Not yet, at least.

At this point, you were allowing your gut feeling to guide you, and it could very well blow up in your face if she turned out to be innocent in all of this.

However… the warning signs were too loud to ignore.

“I… don’t know yet.”

Astarion was glaring at you with pursed lips, and you vaguely wondered if he was upset with you, or if he was actually upset that his judgement had failed him when it came to Ava.

“You can bleed yourself dry if you wish, but not her ,” Shadowheart pressed in a low voice.

“I know .” he shot back.

She took a step forward, her face dangerously close to his. “Then you’d do well to remember that my respect for you has its limits. Do not cross them.”

You tugged at her arm again, trying to put some distance in between them.

“Well, this conversation isn’t going anywhere,” he said after a while with a scoff before turning around to leave. “I’ll be in my room.”

You tried to go after him, but Shadowheart held you firmly in place. “Let him go.”

It was hard to do so, but you nodded as you sat on a nearby chair.

“I know you care deeply for him, but this is beyond ludicrous.” she said with a heavy sigh.

Her voice was that of reason, so you couldn’t fault her for being so apprehensive.

“He would never harm me.”

And you would always stand by this as sure as the sun is to rise.

“Not consciously, but by dealing with this woman, he might have opened a door to great peril.”

You nodded, avoiding her penetrating gaze. “Wyll is running a few checks on some information she gave me. I guess we’ll find an answer soon enough.”

Shadowheart’s face softened every so slightly.

“Please exert caution with Astarion,” she said, grabbing your hand. “And I’m not talking about this in particular.

Oh.

“I don’t doubt for a second that he cares for you, but I don’t want to see you bound to nightmares,” she said in a whisper. “That is no way of living.”

You took a deep breath. “Things are fine between us.”

Unexpectedly, she let out a chuckle. “Oh, I’m sure. My room is next to his and… well, let’s just say that I may have overheard him mumbling your name a few times…”

“What do you…”

Oh.

“So, just… be careful,” she pleaded as she gripped your hand fiercely. “I trust your judgement, but not his… especially not after this.

You felt your heart swell with affection for Shadowheart and you pulled her into a tight embrace, almost tearing up as you did so.

“Thank you.”

She rubbed your back affectionately and whispered, “I adore you.”

“So do I.”

It was becoming more and more apparent that standing outside Astarion’s room was almost part of a routine now.

After a few more seconds, she finally pulled back with a reassuring smile. “I’ll tell the Fists outside to inform Wyll of what’s happened.”

And it was also unnecessarily hard to reach out for that first knock.

You had waited a couple of hours before deciding on what to do.

Wyll hadn’t shown up yet and there was still no word from Waterdeep.

So, you took a deep breath and as you were about to rasp your knuckles against the door, a charming voice was heard, “I know you’re outside.”

Of course he did.

“Can I come in?”

A brief pause.“Be my guest.”

You turned the knob and rushed inside, clicking the door shut behind you.

As expected, the room was plunged in a candle-lit dimness as the curtains draped over the window kept the blazing sun at bay.

Astarion lay on his bed, resting against the headboard as he threaded his way along a piece of cloth with a needle, his eyes solely focused on the task at hand.

Your stomach turned and twisted in knots, and you realised you weren’t quite sure how to start the conversation.

A low chuckle was heard. “I’m assuming you didn’t come here to simply stare at me, darling.”

The lightheartedness in his voice made you feel slightly at ease and you shook your head. “No. I suppose not.”

This time, he did meet your eyes briefly and your heart skipped a beat.“As dashing as I am, I’d rather hear what you have to say instead.”

Right.

You cleared your throat, taking careful steps towards him before taking a seat at the feet of his bed, mindful to keep a certain respectful distance.

“I should have told you about Ava earlier on when you asked me.”

“Indeed.”

He didn’t sound upset in the slightest.

If anything, there was a faint hint of strange calmness to his voice.

“As for Shadowheart…”

He let out a snort. “Please. The day she stops worrying about you is the day I’ll find her in a casket.”

You couldn’t help out a short chuckle as he was absolutely right. 

Still, you laced your hands in your lap, absentmindedly fidgeting with your fingers. “I…” you began, before drifting off as uncertainty took place. “I didn’t want to worry you.”

Astarion paused altogether and his crimson eyes were on you again.

“See, I do understand that reasoning,” he said, tugging at the thread that curled around one finger. “But considering the nature of your conversation with her, you should have told me right away.”

You nodded.

“As fruitful as my connection to her might prove to be, I cannot accept the deal you made with her.”

Your heart raced in your chest at how determined he seemed in his resolve. 

However…

“If what she says is true and someone is after us, this feels like a small price to pay.”

Astarion snipped the thread with a pair of scissors before setting his handiwork on the bedside table.

The look on his face could easily make the bravest men cower in fear.

“Nothing that involves you is a ‘small price to pay’,” he said, voice low and heavy. “It’s one thing for me to willfully provide my blood, and another for her to take advantage of you so blatantly.”

You frowned deeply. “She is also taking advantage of you, then.” 

“I can deal with her.”

Astarion had this tendency to sell himself short in terms of self-worth. At times, he was as confident as one could be, but the centuries of robbed autonomy and lack of genuine bond to others would often slip in and take hold.

He was probably not even aware of how easy it was for you to catch on to this, but you knew him well enough by now. 

“You don’t have to.”

He rolled his eyes as he crossed his arms. “Don’t tell me what I can or can’t do.”

It nearly shattered you to hear him put up his defences around you so unbelievably fast.

There was no need for that.

“Don’t ,” you nearly pleaded. “Please don’t assume I am trying to tell you what to do.”

Just as rapidly, his features softened ever so slightly. “I apologise.”

You vehemently shook your head. “I also apologise if my words came across as condescending.”

An unsettling silence took place.

His eyes roamed across your face and you felt more exposed to him than you had ever been even when fully naked in his presence.

Even though you felt comfortable and safe with him, there were times when you wondered if it was reciprocal.  

“Ava is not your concern,” he eventually said. “I will deal with her.”

You had no doubt he would.

It just saddened you that… “I know she was helping you out in more ways than one, even if I don’t particularly agree with the… method, so to speak.”

“Yet here you are, thinking that whatever bond I share with her is significant enough,” he said, voice dripping with amusement. “I am using her as much as she is using me. But I never allowed for that to extend to you. Ever .”

You swallowed as his harsh words hit you.

“That was her first mistake – involving you.”

“I took the deal freely.” you said.

“You didn’t have to at all,” he retorted impatiently. “She needs me more than I need her. So, if she knows anything about someone coming after us, she will tell me and I won’t be kind when I ask her to.”

Fair enough.

“Will you still give her your blood?”

“It depends.”

You blinked. “On what?”

“On how the conversation goes,” he said with a shrug. “Though what I do know for certain is that I will not give her blood after feeding on you.”

An impending sense of dread rose inside you and you vaguely wondered if you had just fucked up.

Information was power, and you worried that she might not take it well now that Astarion was openly against her proposal. 

But to be fair, she did mention she would let him know about all of this. So, it wasn’t truly your fault that he didn’t take it well, was it?

In fact, it was very much on brand with Astarion.

His sense of loyalty to you was unwavering and transcended any arrangement the two of you had agreed to.

And that was a bond not easily severed, probably much to Ava’s dismay.

“You are off limits.”

It wasn’t a subtle warning by any means and it made your heart swell with warmth somehow. His protectiveness nearly rivalled that of Shadowheart, though you wouldn’t dare tell her this.

A faint smile curled his lips. “I have to thank you.”

You arched an eyebrow. “For what?”

He hesitated at first. “I know you mean well. I do know that.”

Oh, Astarion…

“You’re a better friend than I could ever have hoped for – or even deserve,” he went on. “It is hard at times to be vulnerable. I was never allowed to. For centuries I equated being vulnerable to being weak… even pathetic.”

You were unsure of how to respond, but you felt each word tug at your heartstrings in a way that you had only felt when he had confessed his feelings for you back in Moonrise Towers. 

“I’m still getting used to this…” He paused abruptly as if pondering his next words. “Allowing myself to feel all these emotions, I suppose.”

“You are more deserving than you think,” you said truthfully. “Give yourself some credit. You used to be bound to your selfishness when we first met. You didn’t care for others because no one ever cared for you.”

His face held an expression akin to hurt, but it was the good kind of pain. Breaking one’s protective shell didn’t come without discomfort, but it was worth it in the long run. 

Unconsciously, you shifted along the edge of the bed as the overwhelming urge to embrace him took over you at once. 

Still, you didn’t want to push it, so you halted once you were sitting right next to him, which earned an amused smile from him.

“I have something for you.”

“Oh?”

He reached his hand to grab the piece of cloth on the nightstand. The very same he had just been embroidering moments ago.

“Come here.”

Your heart skipped a beat as he tapped his thigh twice. 

Noticing your hesitancy, he repeated the motion until you gathered yourself, feeling a rush of heat pool at your cheeks.

“You do have a thing for keeping me waiting, darling.” he remarked playfully.

A chuckle made its way past your lips as you moved to settle on his lap, careful not to sit too close to his-

“Here you go,” he said, proffering what resembled a kerchief of some sort.

You took it in your hands, admiring its silky texture and mesmerising fusion of different shades of blue that swirled beautifully together until your eyes spotted the yellow-threaded embroidery sprawled along one corner.

Your name.

The needlework was impeccable as always.

Your eyes widened in sheer bewilderment as you remembered the last time he had offered you such a gift.“I – this is beautiful,” you managed to say. “The other one was a masterpiece as well.”

He chuckled tenderly. “The timing of my offering was rather inopportune on that day – I should have waited until we were back in camp.”

His words were sweet and caressed you like a lover, and you could feel yourself drawn more and more to him.

“May I?”

You nodded as he took the kerchief from your hands only to have it drape around your neck, his fingers tugging gently at both ends as his eyes met yours.

Oh.

Fuck.

You only had time to hastily hold on to the headboard with both hands for support as he pulled you in closer. “May I kiss you?”

It was an uncomfortable position to be in since you were trying to avoid his crotch at all costs.

“Where?”

His gaze dropped to your lips.

“Friends don’t do that.” you teased, but still inching closer to him.

“Darling ,” he began with a click of his tongue, rolling the edges of the fabric around each finger. “We haven’t been friends for quite a while now.”

And then he kissed you.

It was a hungry and urgent kiss and his tongue quickly slipped past your lips, causing you to instantly melt into him.

The softest moan escaped your throat as you felt a single fang nip teasingly at your lower lip.

Driven by pure instinct, you shifted along his thighs until you were pressed against his crotch.

He broke the kiss to let out a strained groan and you immediately lifted your hips, alarmed that you had gone too far.

But his hands immediately dropped to your waist, holding you in place. “Don’t.”

You met his lustful gaze. “I’m sorry…”

“Don’t. Please .”

He didn’t push you back against him, but you felt his fingers tease the waistband of your trousers. 

“Astarion…” you said, unsure if this was a good idea.

He tugged again, but more gently this tme. “We don't have to do anything you don't feel comfortable with.”

Oh, you were more than eager to carry on. In fact, you were desperate .

You bit your lip, torn between listening to reason or giving in to the moment.

The latter won by a landslide. 

You nodded and he masterfully undid the buttons and laces with one hand.

“Do you trust me?”

What an odd question from him. “You know I do.”

His thumb traced your jawline before grazing your lower lip and earning a sigh from you. “Can I trust you not to scream?”

“Scream? Why would I-”

Realisation hit you like a tidal wave and your eyes widened as words died in your mouth.

Oh.

Astarion smiled cheekily, patting your thigh, clearly urging you to slide off of his lap.  “Lock the door.”

You were still taken aback and didn't move an inch, staring into his crimson eyes instead as your heart drummed rapidly in your chest.

“Lock the door .”

It resembled a plea, which caused you to clench involuntarily from how desperate he sounded.

Swiftly slipping off his lap, you hurried across his room to turn the key below the doorknob until a click was heard.

By the time you turned around, Astarion had removed his shirt and you were rooted in place, utterly speechless.

He was a work of art. 

No words of praise would ever do him justice.

Your mouth had dropped slightly open and he chuckled deviously. “You’re free to stay there and gawk, but I’d rather have you on top of me.”

His teasing snapped you out of your trance-like state and you felt a stronger wave of heat flare across your face and rush down your body.

Your legs felt weak all of a sudden, but you found your way back to him as you always did.

In the end, all roads did lead back to him.

As if driven by an outside force, you quickly slipped out of your trousers, only leaving on your underwear which was already gathering a growing wet spot.

His stare was fixed on your lower half and you spotted the familiar outline of his cock strained in his own trousers.

He eased you back on his lap with a firm grip on your waist and a boyish grin on his lips. Your hands settled on his bare shoulders, still mindful to not lower your hips too much.

“So, my dearest friend… ” he said, adjusting the kerchief around your neck. “How often do you indulge in such activities with your other friends?”

You smirked playfully. “Not often enough.”

He mirrored your expression, fingers slowly undoing each button of your shirt. “Oh? I wonder who crosses your mind, then.”

You.

But he already knew that as his hands travelled down your chest, each breath allowing your shirt to part wide enough to expose your heaving breasts.

“Is it Wyll?”

“You and your obsession with Wyll,” you laughed as he slowly pulled the fabric to the side, exposing each breast at a time. “I’m starting to think you want him for yourself.”

His eyes left yours to gaze at a perky nipple. “The question is: would you be willing to share?”

You whimpered softly as his thumb traced the underside of one breast and you felt too tempted to press down against his erection just so you could comfort the throb in between your legs. 

“Of course… I’m all for sharing friends.” 

Once he began grazing your nipple, you had to grip his shoulders tighter to anchor yourself.

Your body undulated instinctively, earning a hum of approval from him.

“Would you let Wyll do this, then? As a friend, obviously.”

You were about to arch a brow at his question when you felt one finger pulling your underwear to the side, exposing yourself to him.

It was almost comical how soaked you already were.

You reckoned it was enough to take more than just his fingers.

“Would you let him, darling?”

“I–”

But your voice died in your throat as he ran a single cool finger along your folds, carefully avoiding the swell in between them much to your agony.

The shift in temperature was always something that took some time getting used to and you occasionally flinched as your body adjusted to his touch.

“Can I do this, then?” he asked in a low growl as he teased your entrance. “As a friend.”

You rolled your hips out of reflex and he sank into you with ease until he was knuckle-deep. 

“Gods…” you moaned in sheer relief, instinctively clenching around him.

He then pressed his thumb between your folds, causing your hips to jerk as he teased the pulsing swell. It wasn’t long until you began to slowly ride him, your eyes nearly fluttering shut.

“You can take more, can’t you?” he cooed, moving his hand to tease your other nipple. “I remember how eager you used to be for my cock.”

At this rate, he would make you come from his teasing words alone and with a single finger buried inside you.

“Astarion… don’t…” you moaned as you rolled your hips, urging him on. 

He needed to shut up…

You needed him to stop talking before-

He suddenly slipped a second finger and you lost your balance, pressing your breasts against his bare chest while seeking support from his shoulder as you buried your face in his neck.

“You have no idea how I longed to be inside you again,” he sighed, his fingers gripping your waist and guiding your sloppy rolls, eventually setting the pace. “My hands can never feel as divine as you do.”

Gods…

You shuddered violently as your moans quickly turned into sobs and whimpers, the wet lewd sounds filling your ears.

He pressed the heel of his palm against you, the delicious friction causing you to rake your  hand down from his shoulder and along his chest until he caught your wrist, pressing your heated palm against his hardened nipple.

Astarion immediately groaned and you felt him arch into you.

“Darling…” he moaned, pumping his fingers faster inside you. “Please look down.”

You were so out of it, that his words didn’t register at first, so you kept on riding him in between sobs, further teasing his nipple under your touch.

“Look down,” he repeated more firmly, nearly slipping out of you. “I want you to see the mess you’ve made.”

“ No-no-no … please…” you nearly cried in exasperation, moving your hips desperately against him.

“Then look down.”

You growled in pure frustration, somehow managing to pull back enough to have your eyes land on the hand in between your legs.

It was soaked down to his wrist, and you could see some of it beginning to drip, staining his strained bulge.

You felt an overwhelming wave of embarrassment wash down over you and tried to bury your face in his neck again, but he gripped your chin with his fingers, halting you.

“Do not hide from me,” he said, slipping his fingers back inside as he stared into your half-hooded eyes. “This is one of the highest praises you can offer me.” And he proved his point by planting the softest kiss on your lips.

You immediately melted into his praise, realising just how lovely he could be…

The pent-up sexual frustration was at an all time high and you could feel the familiar coil in your lower abdomen reach the point of no return.

You wished you were strong enough to fight him back with snarky and witty replies, but your concentration was broken. 

“What about a third one?”

You didn’t care anymore.

You just wanted release.

It had been too long since he had made you come and you'd take anything he gave you at this point.

“Just…” you began, chasing after that high relentlessly. “ Just… ”

He had the nerve to chuckle at your frustration and you felt a third finger prodding at your entrance.

You could take it.

You would take it.

The fullness would most surely remind you of his cock and you needed it.

You were wet enough to accommodate him as he pushed through, earning a gasp from you followed by a shudder and a strained groan.

“I don’t mean to brag, but I highly doubt dear Wyll would get this reaction from you.”

“Gods… stop talking about Wyll as you’re inside me,” you managed to string coherents words together in between your moans. “Just… please…”

He pressed a kiss to your flushed cheek. “You always take me so well.”

How you wished it was his cock instead, stretching you even more and filling you deeper.

You were nearly there.

“Don’t scream, darling.” he teased as you rode him desperately. “We wouldn't want dear Shadowheart to overhear your wanton cries.”

Well, Shadowheart was already privy to the nature of your relationship with Astarion thanks to him and how he clearly didn't shy away from taking care of himself with others around.

Your mind was about to blank and you slid the kerchief from your neck, feeling the need to bite down on something as you reached your peak.

A few more hip rolls did the trick and one last stroke of his thumb along your folds managed to push you right over the edge.

Your contractions were so violent and strong at first you thought you might die from how hard you were clenching around him, your legs wobbling dangerously as you were drained of lifeforce with each blinding wave of bliss.

The piece of cloth in your mouth didn’t do much to muffle you as your climax tore throughout your body, but it was better than having nothing.

Astarion only slid out once you had slumped into his chest, barely able to keep your breathing steady.

Your knees gave out and you sank down against his crotch, earning a guttural growl from deep within him.

Shit.

You instantly slid off of him, worrying you had accidentally gone too far. “Astarion… I’m…”

He shook his head, the hand that was soaked in your wetness clawing at the front of his trousers as his eyes were pressed shut.

Oh.

“I’ll take care of this…” he let out a pained hiss.

Oh.

“I can just leave,” you mumbled. “I’m…”

His trousers were now undone and you could see his clothes cock faintly throbbing.

And he shook his head once again. “You can stay – you can watch… if you want to.” His words were coated in urgent lust. 

Your eyes widened at his proposition and you thought you might implode right there and then.

You had barely come down from your climax and the throbbing that had begun to subside was already about to match your quickened heartbeat.

“Or you can leave…” he said in a low and strained voice.

Oh, he was truly holding back…

“I… can stay.” you offered at once, sitting next to him and trying to ignore the lust that was building inside you once again.

This wasn't about you.

He quickly nodded and with a swift tug he freed his cock and you had to bite down hard on your lip at the mesmerising sight in front of you.

A single strand of precum dangled from the tip, already pooling on his lower abdomen. 

“Gods above…” he let out a sigh of relief, hips lifting from the mattress as he wrapped the hand drenched in your wetness around him. 

This was too hot to witness and you curled your hands into fists on your lap, wishing nothing more than to touch him again.

But you knew he needed this.

He needed to feel at ease with his body first.

His eyes met yours briefly before dropping to your chest and to your breasts as they heaved from your laboured breathing.

You removed your shirt, not wanting to obstruct his view and Astarion growled .

The pace was slow at first as he squeezed his cock, but he quickly picked up, mixing your wetness with his with each stroke.

He looked positively ethereal as his handsome face twisted in pleasure, lips parted and razor-sharp fangs peeking through. 

Should you say something? Should you praise him? Encourage him? Or would it be too much?

From what you remembered, he seemed to revel in your teasing words in moments of shared bliss, but how much of that was an act back then? Was he ever able to fully enjoy being with you?

In doubt, you chose to remain silent as you watched him bring himself closer to his own climax.

It didn't take him long to start mumbling your name in between heated pants and there was no way back now.

You were throbbing hard again, wetness spilling from you with each involuntarily clench. 

Your body was so ready for him… it was almost painful.

A thicker string of precum bridged his tip to his abdomen, and you nearly moaned, remembering its sweet taste.

He rolled his hips languidly, eyes never leaving you as he gripped the bedsheets under him with such force you reckoned me might tear right through the fabric.

That sparked newfound curiosity inside you.

Slowly, you leaned forward, shifting closer just to have your hand next to his without quite touching him, but close enough for him to feel your warmth.

I'm here… I'm with you, you wanted to whisper, but only heard the words echo in your head.

He groaned in response and, much to your surprise, he released the sheets and his fingers found you, intertwining them in yours as he held on to you. 

Your heart might have skipped several beats, you were no longer sure at this rate.

You had seen him reach his peak a handful of times before, but there was something different about the way he toppled over the edge this time.

He threw his head back against the headboard, straining his neck as his mouth dropped open, your name being the only intelligible word you could make out in the midst of hisses and groans. 

Your heart was hammering so fast in your chest that you feared you might not make it as he reached his peak.

His hips still momentarily and he covered his swollen tip with his hand and the first spurts of cum began to slip through his fingers before dribbling down to gather at the base and across his lower abdomen.

You held his hand formçy through his climax. Perhaps the first genuine one you had ever witnessed, which invoked an odd feeling of… delight?

For the second time in just a mere couple of days, the two of you held hands albeit seeking varying degrees of comfort and relief.

Beads of sweat rolled down his temple and covered his bare torso as he descended from his high and that was when his eyes met yours.

Your stomach turned and you felt the throb between your legs begin to ease with each passing second.

“Will you kiss me?”

His request took you by surprise, but you promptly shifted next to him until your face was close enough that your lips grazed his.

Only then did he let go of your hand and merely because he meant to hold your chin as he kissed you softly.

It carried neither urgency nor lust.

Just a pure display of silent  intimacy that strummed at your heartstrings more effectively than any other praise he could ever offer you.

You melted into his sweet touch and allowed your kiss to express the unspoken words you had yet to tell him.

I love you…

Whichever form of love it was, all you knew was that it felt right and love overdue.

You could feel him occasionally smile against your lips and there was not a single drop of doubt in you.

I love you.

After what felt like an eternity, you pulled away, already mourning his touch.

“Shadowheart knows.”

He arched an eyebrow. “Oh?”

You had to hold back a chuckle. “She heard you – well, when you were… handling things after feeding on me.”

The most mischievous of smiles settled on his lips. 

“I thought you said you were quiet…”

“I was, darling,” he said before pecking your cheek. “For the most part, that is.”

You giggled and then stared at him in awe as his beauty increased tenfold from where you sat.

He was impossibly handsome.

“You’re so…”

“Charming?”

You rolled your eyes as he pressed his cool lips to your other cheek.

“Beautiful?”

Another kiss.

“You’re so… you.” you blurted out almost feeling embarrassed from how basic your praise was.

But it drew the biggest smile from him, and you mirrored it instantly.

“Well…”

You watched as his eyes dropped to his lower half and yours widened slightly at the obscene amount of cum was now dribbling down his sides in thick beads. His hand was still holding his now softening cock, fingers drenched in his own spend.

“That’s a lot…” you said.

He nodded, looking almost as perplexed as you were. “I don’t think I’ve ever…” and his voice trailed down.

And you knew exactly what he meant.

With a warm smile, you extended your hand, offering him the kerchief he had gifted you moments before.

He visibly winced. “No, darling. It would be nigh criminal to use such delicate fabric on this .”

Your smile widened. “Can I fetch you a towel then?”

“Please,” he said with an exasperated sigh. “It’s rather messy here.”

You pressed a fleeting kiss to his lips before sliding off the bed and hurriedly slipping into your shirt and trousers and crossing the room.

The key turned in one swift move and you quickly left the room.

You were only able to take a few steps before a silhouette startled you.

Shadowheart.

She was leaning against the railing by the top of the staircase with folded arms and a quirked brow.

“Gods! You scared me,” you said, clutching at your chest. 

“Glad some of us are able to enjoy ourselves in such times.”

You swallowed hard. “Uh… we were just talking.”

She snickered humorously. “I suppose it’s a form of communication.”

An overwhelming heatwave spread across your face. Had you been that loud? Or had he? 

Then her expression turned serious. “Pull yourself together. We have visitors.” 

TBC

[heavysighing-dreamyeyes]

On Tattered Cloaks

Part four of this pirate!au. You didn't really think your husband wouldn't track you down, did you? ~4.5k words

Quiet sobs start to fade to disbelieving giggles. It really was that easy. All of your husband's promises had vanished with just one careful plan and a few moments alone.

You were actually getting away. You actually managed to flee his presence without letting him catch you. It's all made worse at how painfully simple it was.

He had been nearly perfect in the market, everything you had missed in the years apart. He wanted to build you a garden, a home away from the sea. He saw a life with you.

But that doesn't change that he has a life without you. Something better, something bigger without you to drag him down.

The wagons continue none the wiser to your suffering. Hours of being trapped in your own thoughts eventually come to a halt, as dirt roads turn to stone once more. Voices pick up as the wagon comes to a stop, and the canvas parts to reveal the old caravan leader.

He offers you his hand, and you hope you don't look like you've been crying as you take it. He helps you down as you murmur shaky thank yous for his generosity.

"Ah, here, you'll probably want this," he says, gently releasing your hand to pull out a decent-sized coin purse. It's filled with enough coin to buy you food and lodging for a few nights, and a ticket to the next town.

You falter, eyes darting between him and the coins, "I– Oh. I can't take this. You've already helped me so much."

His expression softens as he takes your hand and places the purse in your grip, "You've had a long journey. Take it. I insist."

"But," You start as he pulls away, "I can't pay you back."

He shakes his head faintly, sympathy crossing his features, "The look on your face was clear enough, dear. I know the signs of someone running from something. Allow me to help, at least this much."

Your shoulders slump, his words make tears want to fall all over again, "Thank you."

He shoos you along kindly, "Just be careful. It's dangerous to travel alone."

You offer him a smile and he returns it before focusing back on his cargo. You slip into the crowd without another word, heartbreak is heavy, but the old man's words make your steps a bit lighter.

It doesn't take long for you to find another caravan, offering its services to Central City. It's an easy decision to make. This town is far too small to stay in, and far too close to Star Port. All it takes is a few coin from the merchant's purse, and you're seated and traveling to the next city.

You fidget with the hair pins in your pocket as your thoughts inevitably return to your husband, to Jason. Was he looking for you? Is he relieved that the burden of his past is gone?

It's irrational, but the feeling of being followed makes your skin prick, makes your head turn to check over your shoulder as the Central City gates approaches. There's never anything there.

The guards wave the caravan through without much inspection and you find yourself in a brand new city. It's strange, to be in a city with no port. There's no cries of gulls and no smell of the sea. It's nothing like Gotham, nothing Iike Star Port. It brings a sense of security.

You're quick to leave the other travelers as the wagons stop, and you're even quicker to weave through the crowd. You make your way from the fancy, wealthy district and towards the seedier, tavern lined streets.

It takes longer than you'd like, going through the inns and taverns to look for a job, to look for somewhere to stay. Eventually, you find a sign outside of a grimy looking Tavern called The Wildcat, looking for a barmaid or barman to apply inside. The pay doesn't look exceptional, but it does offer free room and board.

The old man at the empty bar doesn't even bother to look up when you walk in. "Excuse me," You ask, "are you still hiring for the bartender job?"

He doesn't spare you a glance, just focuses on the glass he's cleaning, "yer too soft."

"I– what?" You ask, taken back.

"Yer too soft," he repeats, finally looking up at you, "couldn't handle the types we get in here."

That makes you straighten out, "I can handle whatever drunks find their way in here." It's the truth. The long days spent searching for any information at Gotham's docks prepared you enough for that.

He looks you over, but something in his eyes changes as he studies you closer. He nods, like he found what he was looking for, "Yer room is upstairs. Last door. Your shift starts in an hour."

You blink, "I– okay."

"Don't cause any trouble," he mumbles grumpily and goes back to cleaning the same glass.

It takes you more shifts than you expect to learn the owner's name. He eventually grunts out 'Ted Grant' between showing you the best way to kick the taps to get them to work. Within a few short weeks, The Wildcat becomes something like a home.

Your coworkers, who only seem to come in when it suits them, joke with you and introduce you to the best parts of central city. Cissie King pulls you onto tables to dance and she shares stories of how she misses living by the sea too. She's your first friend that's completely yours in a long time.

Ted knocks more than one handsy patron on their ass for you, and there's a story to him you haven't quite been able to get him to open up about. He pats your shoulder the first time you hit someone yourself, and murmurs how you remind him of his niece.

It's almost perfect. It really would be, if it wasn't for the dreams. Dreams of your husband, the way he used to hold you, the sound of his laugh, the color of his hair, the warm touch of his hands. His promises echo in your head, that you're his, you'd always be his. That he's going to find you, no matter how long it takes.

It makes you snap awake, grabbing at your blankets and eyes darting frantically around your empty room. Your gaze always settles on the hair pins set on your vanity. The ones you can't seem to get rid of. The silver rose seems to glimmer when you look at it.

There's an ache in your heart during mornings like this, where a part of you so desperately misses your husband. You trace the petals of the rose. You never dared to wear it, never risked even the possibility of being recognized.

The day seems to pass in a strange haze, like the calm before a storm. Not even your weekly lunch with Cissie eases the edge in your body. Every stranger seems like a threat. By the time you've returned to The Wildcat for your shift, you're jumpy.

Ted notices and waves you off to deal with the kitchen, lazily grunting that he can handle the bar himself. It's a blessing in disguise that he does.

A red-headed man swaggers through the door, and drops down at the bar. For a second, your heart drops with the idea it's Roy– but, no. Ted huffs out, "Thought I banned you, West."

The man shrugs, a boyish smile on his face as he brushes off his dark long coat, "That was ages ago."

Ted grumbles something, but you don't hear the rest of the conversation. You just see the glint of guns at the strangers side and the way his eyes lock on yours through the serving window. It makes your skin prick and the feeling of danger set in.

Nothing in his face gives away anything, but a part of you feels that he knows. He knows who you are. He knows Jason.

"Hey. Eyes off my staff," Ted snaps, waving a hand at the stranger.

'West' smiles widely, "Don't worry so much, old man. I was just leaving. Give my best to Cissie," he drawls, making his way out the door. He shoots you a wink as it closes behind him.

Ted grumbles over how he didn't even buy anything, but you can't focus, overwhelmed by the feeling of how wrong that felt. It has to be impossible, whatever that was, it can't be connected to your husband.

It's what you tell yourself as your shift ends, as you turn restlessly over in your bed, as the day passes until the next night. It's what you keep repeating right until a hooded figure walks into The Wildcat.

It's busier tonight than normal, but it doesn't stop the man from walking through the crowd and sitting in front of you at the bar. You can't ignore the figure, even if you do delay serving them by talking with other customers. The sensation of walking into a trap curls in your gut when you finally speak to him.

You ignore your unease as you smile, professional and pleasant, "What can I get for you tonight?"

You can't make out their features, concealed by the shadows of their hood, but their cold, low tone sends chills down your spine, "Rum, if you will."

"Coming right up," You chirp with a sweet smile, quickly busying yourself with pouring their drink. You set the glass in front of them, "Can I get you anything else?"

"No," They answer evenly, gloved fingers curling around the smooth glass before downing the drink with a single swing.

You take the cue to return to your other customers, but the tension doesn't leave your shoulders. He's watching you, calm and collected as his fingers drum rhythmically on the hard surface of the bar.

The night continues like this, he denies any more liquor, and even the patrons who usually are unruly and flirtatious seem mellowed in his presence. It's unnerving, so much so you find yourself in front of him again, "Would you like to close your tab?"

He nods slightly and reaches under his cloak to pull out a pouch full of coins, dropping it to the bar.

You tilt your head, whatever amount is in there greatly exceeds the cost of a single rum, "It's only a few coppers."

He seems unbothered by this, leaning forward to speak in a gravely tone, "Keep it."

Your unease is visible now, like you can feel the walls closing in, "I couldn't possibly."

The hooded figure merely chuckles and it makes you jolt, the sound quiet, low and cold and all too familiar. Chills run down your spine as he speaks again, amused, "Don't protest on my account. It's a gift."

"A gift," You ask, strained. There's no way. It's impossible it's him. You'd been so careful.

"A gift," he echoes, and his voice has a strange tone, an implication there's more to the offer, "a gift for the pretty bartender."

You pick up the pouch reluctantly, "Is there an occasion for such a generous gift?"

His fingers resume their drumming, voice still low and amused, "Call it an appreciation for beauty."

You blink, then lower your tone to match his, "Does this gift have a price? Perhaps, sir, you'd like to know when my shift ends?"

His fingers still and he tenses at your coy tone, he murmurs, almost absentmindedly, "Perhaps I would, love."

You lie easily about when you'll be free. It surprises you sometimes, how easily you've come to lie.

The hooded figure hums, you tell yourself you're imagining the disappointment in his tone, "I shall be waiting for you then, darling."

"Outside," You ask, keeping the shake that threatens to make itself known in your voice at bay, "In the alley?"

He laughs softly and nods, "The rear of the tavern will do just fine, love."

"I look forward to it," You say happily. Another lie. You have no intention of being anywhere in this city by the end of the night.

"As do I," he drawls, and for a moment neither of you move. It's a standstill, and his complete attention focuses on you in a strange, familiar way.

You watch with bated breath as he finally rises from his seat and leaves the tavern. You don't relax, immediately mumbling to Ted that you think you're going to be sick.

He doesn't get an answer out before you're taking the stairs to your room two at a time. You tug your cloak on, throw whatever you can carry into a small bag, shove the hair pins into your pocket.

You scribble an apology for Ted and Cissie onto paper, chastising yourself for not leaving after the red-headed man stared you down yesterday. You dump out the hooded figures' coin purse, quickly counting out the coins.

You freeze when you see coins aren't the only thing in the bag. There's a ring. It's beautiful. So visibly expensive and so obviously something you would wear, it makes you sick. You leave the coins for Ted. You drop the ring into your pocket alongside the hair pins with shaking hands.

Your mind races with plans and the best routes to get out of Central City as you scramble down the stairs. You stop yourself just before you take the back exit. It's too obvious. It's where he'd be waiting.

You sneak into Ted's office, it's more of a closet with a window really, and push the glass open. You drop out the window quietly into the tiny garden, the only light to guide you coming from the tavern and the moon.

You make your way carefully to the adjacent stables, constantly checking for the hooded figure over your shoulder. The shadows of the night conceal most of the area, but there's enough light to see the horses stirring within.

You wake one of Ted's horses, a young mare you convinced him to buy to help pull a wagon. You murmur a soft apology to Ted, and hope the obscene number of coins you left make up for this.

You saddle the horse quickly, and pull your hood low over your head as you pull yourself onto the mares back.

It makes your heart race, as you guide the mare from the stable, how many hiding places there are. How easily Jason and his crew could be around any corner. You head for the city gates, and goosebumps rise on your skin every time you check behind you.

There's a heavy feeling in the air, the shadows seem to reach for you as you encourage your horse out the city and onto dirt roads. You have a terrifying thought that you're being tracked. It gnaws at your mind relentlessly.

You grip the reins tighter as you ride faster. You're so far from the ocean, you've been so careful, and as you get further from the city you start to convince yourself you overreacted. It must have been nothing, only a traveler interested in the poor and pretty bartender working in a cheap tavern.

The thought is comforting, it's what you convince yourself of as you guide your horse towards an inn along the road. The hour is late, and to continue traveling only risks thieves and highwaymen.

You stable your mare, and with one more glance over your shoulder, you enter the inn. It smells of food and ale and dirt, but it's clean enough. None of the patrons seem familiar, but you pull your hood lower nonetheless.

The staff member standing over the guest book looks friendly enough as you walk over, "May I get a room for the night?"

They nod, almost uninterested, "Would you prefer a single or double?"

"Single. I also have a horse in the stable," You supply, anxious to hide away in any room they give you.

"Very well. Four silvers for the night and one for the stable," they answer, "and your name?"

You hand them the coin and lie about your name. "I'll return with your key in a moment," they say, and disappear through a curtain.

You glance towards the door as you wait. It's unexplainable, but you half expect to see Jason barge in, sword drawn, just as he did at the ball so many moons ago. It takes longer than it should for the innkeeper to come back.

"Is everything alright," You ask when they finally hand you your key.

They pause, then smile, "Apologies for the delay. We've had quite the day here today. Everyone is tired and eager to rest."

"Oh," You prompt, "is that so?"

"Indeed. We had a group of rowdy sailors stay last night, and they only left this afternoon," they answer.

"Sailors," You say, a little strained, "we're somewhat far from the ocean, aren't we?"

They nod, "They were picking over a map, quite the strange bunch. They caused a few fights with the other guests. Their captain was quite a sight."

"Their captain," You breathe out airily, heart in your throat. Any mask of a simple, curious traveler is hard to maintain as the inn keeper talks.

"Yes, his presence demanded attention. Dark red hat, more scars than I've ever seen, unruly hair. He was very intense, even as his crew joked around him," They answer, "but he paid fairly."

"I see," You mumble, forcing a smile to your face as you place a gold coin on the desk, "I do enjoy my solitude so, and I would be very grateful if you discouraged anyone from the idea that I was ever here."

The innkeeper's expression visibly shifts, greed and interest sparking in their eyes, "Of course. Your generosity is welcomed. We pride ourselves in dissuading anyone who inquires over our guests."

You smile again and head to your room in a daze, any comforting thoughts of the hooded figure not being related to Jason disappear. You have the urge to get back on your horse and keep riding. But it'd be a sure way to get hurt or robbed if you did.

You have no choice, but to wait until dawn. You settle in for the night, on edge. Sleep doesn't come easy, and the rest you do have is plagued by the color of your husband's eyes and the sound of his voice.

You're out of your room at the first rays of sunshine peeking over the horizon. It's a habit now, to tug your hood low as you drop your key on the inn keepers book. You ignore the hunger in your stomach and head straight for the stable.

The reassuring sight of your horse doesn't make you stop short, but the hooded man holding her bridle does. Neither of you speak as he pets her with gloved hands.

He's clearly no stable worker and you cross your arms at the sight, an attempt to hide your nervousness. You weigh your options, before speaking, "You're touching my horse."

He turns his head slightly at the sound of your voice, "Aye. So that I am. She's a fine stead." His voice has a subtle edge to it, almost menacing. You don't miss how his hand clenches around the reins, firm and unwavering.

"Are you going to keep touching her," You ask, and for all your plans and escape attempts, you can't think of a way out of this.

"Why shouldn't I? Such a fine beast deserves some attention, don't you think." He would sound playful, almost nonchalant if it wasn't for the challenge in his voice, daring you to confront him.

You exhale softly, stepping forward, "As much as I'm sure she adores your attention, I have somewhere to be."

He makes no move to release his hold on your horse's bridle, and you can feel how his gaze roams over you. He shrugs, dismissive and his tone dips almost condescendingly, "Do you now? What a shame. I was just beginning to delight in our little conversation."

"What is there to delight in," You bite back, fed up with the arrogance he exudes.

He lets out a laugh, his grip tightening on the reins before releasing it completely. He drops his hand to the pommel of the sword slung on his hip. "Ah, there's the spark I've been hoping for," he muses, voice low and laced with humor, "You're not one to bow down easily, are you, treasure?"

You stiffen, and it's like jumping into a cold river in the early morning and a harsh punch to the gut. He called you treasure. There's only ever one person who's called you that. It's a chilling, unarguable fact that your husband has tracked you down with a relentless determination.

Your eyes dart, scrambling for a plan. He has a sword. He's too close to your horse. You'd be lucky if you outrun him. He likely paid off anyone in the tavern that would help.

He steps towards you, tension mounting, "What's the matter, love? You've gone so quiet."

"How?" You ask sharply.

He tuts, unimpressed, but his voice is laced with satisfaction, "Well it wasn't luck, treasure. Do you think I'd be foolish enough to rely on mere luck when it comes to matters as important as this? No, no, my love. I used every resource at my disposal. Connections, favors, whispered words in the right ears, all to find you"

You imagine he looks smug right now, that despite all your careful steps, he still found you, "Take off your hood," You bite out.

His demeanor changes, any playful mockery gone as his hand tightens on his sword, voice dripping with danger, "Why should I?"

"Why wouldn't you?" You retort, hands dropping to your sides. It's not a secret who either of you are anymore, even he hasn't said your name, and you haven't said his.

He stares at you, as if weighing the pros and cons of the action, "Very well, treasure." With a steady motion, he draws his hood back, revealing a cascade of dark hair framing his face, the sunlight illuminating his features, rugged and determined and familiar, Jason.

He looks harsher. It's only been a handful of months but something about him seems off. His gaze is more intense, shoulders more stiff.

You try to reconcile your memories of your smiling husband with the man in front of you as he sets his jaw, "You look different," You tell him.

There's suspicion in his eye when you drop your hood as well, but his gaze darts over you greedily. "It has felt like an eternity without you. The months where I couldn't find you..." his voice trails off as he studies you, "it shouldn't be surprising that I look different."

"It was nothing compared to when you were missing," You say flatly, trying to keep your emotions in check.

Your husband's gaze darkens, and pain and frustration etches themselves onto his features, "Perhaps that's true, treasure."

His voice grows bitter, but his longing is clear as he continues to speak, "Yet, every moment apart feels like a lifetime. This aching absence, the unbearable uncertainty, it haunts my soul day and night. Can you blame me for taking drastic measures to find you?"

"Drastic measures?" You ask, voice pitching with surprise.

Jason's face hardens, eyes gleaming with a dangerous intensity, "I have left no stone unturned, no resource untapped. I've sent men to scour every corner, paid off every informant, and spared no expense."

He stares you down, voice resolute and unyielding, "So let me make one thing clear, treasure, I am not the same man I was before I lost you. I won't hesitate to use whatever means necessary to keep you by my side."

Your breath hitches, "I– your crew must hate me for that," You say softly. What you really mean to say is, 'you must hate me for that'.

His eyes soften as he registers your words and he closes the distance between you two, "Hate you? No. No one hates you, my love. You're a part of me. They understand that."

The way he says it sounds like a fact. You're not completely sure if it is. "Treasure," he continues, "my heart bleeds for you more than anything in this world."

"Then why was it so easy for me to leave?" You choke out the question that's been haunting you since that day in the market, hands curling in the fabric of your cloak.

Irritation flashes in his eyes, clearly you struck a nerve, "Easy? You underestimate your own cunning, love. I should have been more cautious that day, but don't mistake my momentary lapse of judgment as weakness on either of our parts."

You scoff and he steps forward to hook his finger under the clasp of your cloak, drawing you closer, "I was blinded by my own heart. You should know you've always had a way of making me lower my guard."

Your eyes widen. He's close. You can see the flecks in his eyes, the older scar lines on his face. Your voice is strained when you speak, "Why are you doing that?"

His brow furrows slightly, "Doing what? Talking to you?"

"Yes!" You lament, "that! Humoring me. What's your plan?"

"You want to know my plan," he drawls, dropping his hand from your cloak, "I'll tell you, my love. Allow me to make this perfectly clear, I'm pursuing you, humoring this conversation, leaving that ring for you," your fingers twitch towards the ring in your pocket unconsciously, a movement he devours eagerly.

He leans down, voice lowering as he continues, "because my plan is simple. I'm not letting you go again. I'm not allowing you to slip through my fingers and disappear into the ether."

His gaze is unwavering, studying your every reaction to his words, "What, no protest, treasure? No arguments?" He straightens back out, "Perhaps you recognize the futility of resistance by now."

"I don't know. I didn't really think I'd get away the first time," You admit quietly, his words swirling in your head.

A wry smile tugs after his lips, and pride over his ability to hunt you down and your own ability to get away slip into his expression. "Yes, it was rather an impressive feat, how long you managed to hide," he confesses, begrudging admiration in his voice, "But rest assured, my love, it won't happen again."

"Why couldn't you just let me go," You ask, pained. That should be what you really want, to free him and you of the endless waltz around each other. But a secret, small part of you is happy to see him.

He breathes out your name, voice longing and resigned, "Every fiber of my being screams for you. My heart and soul belong to you, they always have."

He says your name again, softly, gently. He grabs your arms, wrinkling the fabric of your cloak as he meets your eyes steadily, "I cannot let you go."

Part Five

[gbhbl]

Live Review: Coalition Fest at New Cross Inn, London - Saturday (02/09/23)

Taking place on the 2nd and 3rd of September, Coalition Fest took over the New Cross Inn in London for a raucous display of metal.

Taking place on the 2nd and 3rd of September, Coalition Fest took over the New Cross Inn in London for a raucous display of metal. A two-day festival hosted by the London Metal Coalition. A collective consisting of 30+ London-based metal bands of varying sub-genres whose goal is to unite London’s metal bands to create a strong community as well as showcasing the rich and talented acts London has…

[mayorwhisper]

I really enjoyed doing this hot spring inn!

[electronicwitchcollection]

~*Grimmjow Smut*~

“One bed trope” & Rutting/breeding

The Quincy war had ended. Soul society had began rebuilding from the ruins, like a phoenix rising from the ashes. Buildings had been rebuilt, the 13 divisions coming together in unity after the destruction and loss you all endured. The new head captain, previous captain of the 8th, Shunsui Kyoraku, had led the shinigami into the new world created. Along with the new found peace, soul society had gained some new recruits. One of them being the former Espada, Grimmjow Jeagerjaques.

A brutally gruff man with a lethally short temper and a thirst for battle that rivalled that of Captain Kenpachi. After his efforts in support of the war and the glowing recommendations given by war hero Kisuke Urahara, he had been granted a place in the goeti 13 court guards.

Unfortunately, due to your inability to say no and your constant need to appease your superiors, you had been landed with the gruelling task of "teaching Grimmjow the ropes" so to speak. The arrancar had seemed just as disappointed by this match up as you were. Arms permanently crossed over his muscular chest, he had spent the majority of the past three days of your journey glaring at you. Which was preferable to the snide comments and rumbling growls he otherwise offered you.

You couldn't wait to make it back to the Seireitei, the last leg of your journey should have you arriving back by late morning tomorrow. You would suggest walking through the night to end the painful silence sooner, if not for the angry black clouds rolling closer at a rapid pace. The temperature had lowered considerably, your brisk walking thankfully warming you sufficiently. You pulled the map from your sash, eye brows furrowed as you came to a stop and tried to figure out how far away you were from the inn you had reserved for the night.

"how much longer?" your unwilling companion grumbled from behind you. Fighting the urge to throw the map at his head, you concentrated on the markings.. it's going to be at least another three hours of Mr. Sunshine's radiant personality.

"Are you deaf, woman?! "  Grimmjow growled, testing your patience "How much longer? It's going to rain soon" 

Folding the map back up, you took your time placing it securely in your sash as the winds picked up around you. The fact that you were waiting until you were finished before addressing the crude brute, was less about the efficiency of securing your map and more because you enjoyed making him wait. "About three hours Grimmjow. Four if you keep wasting time bitching" 

"I ain't bitching! It's gunna rain! " he roared at your retreating back, you started back on your journey, not waiting to see if he would follow

"aww, is the kitty scared of a little rain?" You unkindly teased over your shoulder. You heard the rumble deep in his chest, clearly about ready to snap

"I ain't scared of nothing!" such eloquent grammar the Espada exhibited. "Damn bitch, can't you feel the storm coming? Fucking weak shiningami" 

"Listen, Grimmjow, the longer you stand there arguing with me, the longer we'll be stuck in the storm you're so desperately trying to avoid "  you turn to face him, started a little by how he looked. He looked frenzied. Blue hair sticking out as though he had been running his fingers through it. His skin looked clammy and flushed, face had a dull pink tinge, unlike the brilliant red you had witnessed during a screaming rampage. His arms tensed at his sides, bulging biceps trembling minutely as his fists opened and closed in tight fists.

His eyes looked wild. The brilliant blue seemed faded with an animalistic sheen. Blown pupils darted around erratically, avoiding looking straight at you. He must really hate getting wet. The fight left you at the sight of him. Sighing, you offer an alternative, as much as he was getting on your last neves, it really wasn't in you to be intentionally cruel, "there's a trapper shack about fifteen minutes up the side road. It won't be as nice as the inn, but providing there's no one there we should be able to survive one night" 

He clenched his jaw, offering you a tight nod. Taking the hint, you resumed your leading, teetering off the main road to follow the dusty beaten path.

—————————————————

"you've got to be kidding me"

You weren't some materialistic princess, you could slum it with the best of them. Getting your hands dirty had never phased you. The state of the shack, however, was pushing it. The howling wind ripped through the barely held together shack, forcing its way through the rotting wooden slats. Every inch of the place was covered in a sheet of dust, the muddy floor held long forgotten footprints of past hunters. A sooty fire pit sat in the middle of the room, jagged rocks forming a wobbly circle, small hole in ten roof above to allow ventilation for the smoke.

There was a helpful pile of dried logs near the beaten door, clawing onto its hinges desperately. The one saving grace, as it had been pelting down with heavy rain the past ten minutes, the chance of you finding any dry wood outside was slim to absolutely fucking impossible. What made your heart sink to the bottom of your stomach, however, was the single bed pushed into the corner of the room. Thin blanket messily thrown over the questionably stained mattress, two pillows long since lost their plump plush. Two Tatami mats pushed against the opposite wall, probably stoping the wall from tumbling over.

"move" Grimmjow pushed his way into the shack, nudging your shoulder harshly. Shaking him self, not dissimilar to the way a dog would rid its fur of water. Grimmjow looked around the room, Unphased by the grimy appearance. He scoffed loudly, rolling his eyes. "Not up to your standards princess? "  he sneered in your direction, foot kicking the rocks around the fire pit. "Afraid you'll break a nail?"

You roll your eyes, refusing to engage in his snappy remarks. Closing the door behind you, silently pleading with it to stay standing at least til morning, you reached down to grab a couple of different sized logs. Stacking them near the fire pit, you pulled off your backpack, digging through your preserves to find your flint and steel and a pouch of dry kindling.

Kneeling onto the cold ground, you arranged the kindling into a loose pile, striking the flint and steel sending sparks into the bundle. When glowing embers caught, you lifted the pile to your mouth, blowing steadily until a small flame licked to life. Satisfied you began placing twigs into a teepee, watching as they caught light. Silently to built up the pile until a controlled fire crackled in the middle of the room, giving off its roaring heat.

Grimmjow had leaned himself against the wall, arms folded over his chest. Legs crossed at the ankles, he had been staring at you, watching as you created fire.

"No thanks Grimmjow, I don't need any help. Thanks for asking"  You sarcastically remark. The answering scoff you received at least let you know sarcasm was something even hollows understood. Too tired to cook yourself a meal, you pulled out some jerky and a pre-made rice ball for your dinner. Grimmjow didn't need anything to eat. While, you discovered, he could eat human food, he could also be satisfied by chomping down on smaller hollows.

That was a sight you wouldn't forget in a hurry. The animalistic way he leaped at the hollows you had encountered earlier in the day. Sharp teeth ripping into the flesh of the howling beasts with a sadistic grin on his face. Grimmjow swallowing those mouthful's of hollow flesh was something else entirely.

Banning the memory from your mind so not to completely ruin your appetite, you moved to sit on the bed, trying not to think about what that stain was. Grimmjow hadn't moved from his space as far away from you as the cabin allowed. Mindlessly chewing at your food, your eyes started to wander. His fingers had gripped into his biceps, the indents pushed into the flesh looked painful. He kept shifting his weight between his feet, crossing and uncrossing his ankles.

Your chewing slowed as you regarded him. You were in from the rain, drying nicely from the heat provided by the fire. So why did he look just about ready to claw his own skin off? Perhaps he was dreading the sleeping arrangements as much as you were

"so" you started the awkward conversation after swallowing the last of your light meal. He tilted his chin into your general direction at your conversation starter "how are we doing this?"

He jerked his head fully to you then, eyes widened "we ain't doing anything" his husky voice rumbled. It was your turn to tilt you head, this time in confusion

"sleeping arrangements? There's only one bed" you emphasised the point by tapping the bed below you. You see the realisation dawn on his face before pushing it away with a sneer. You couldn't fathom what he could've been so worried about

"pfft, you take it, don't wanna hear your bitching all night if you had to sleep on the floor." Grimmjow moved to the tatami mats leaning against the wall, throwing them unceremoniously to the ground with a thud. You were pleased to see they weren't hiding a gaping hole in the wall. Grimmjow fell backwards onto the mat, crossing his arms under his head and stared at the wooden roof.

Not letting the comment slide, you picked up one sorry excuse for a pillow, throwing it harder than necessary to flop anticlimactically on Grimmjow's stomach. You received a growl for your efforts. Throwing a couple more robust logs on the fire to ensue heat for hopefully the whole night, you felt confident to change into your sleeping gown and not freeze to death. While it showed more skin than your regulation issued shinigami uniform and as much as you didn't relish in the thought of rolling about on that dirty mattress all night with more on show, you hated the confines of clothing while you slept. You would just have to scrub extra hard in your bath the next day.

Locating your gown in your backpack, you climbed under the covers to change, folding up your uniform neatly and laying it atop your bag. Though it would've been easier staying dry in a shower, you snuggled under the blanket trying to find a comfortable position to sleep in. The raging storm outside helped ease you into blissful unconsciousness, hoping that by morning the storm would've passed along with Grimmjows pissy mood

You wouldn't hold your breath though

——————————————————

When your eyes snapped open way too soon for it yet to be morning, you had first assumed it was the storm still raging outside that had woken you up. You remained staring at the wall, not wanting to risk waking Grimmjow, less you wanted to deal with his moody ass at being woken. The fire was still breathing, judging by the heat at your back. You listened to the usual sounds of the storm, rumbling thunder in the distance, they ruthlessly pelting rain hitting the roof, howling wind whipping through the trees. Yet sleep avoided you.

That's when you heard the shuffle of clothes rubbing together and a throaty grunt. You roll your eyes, of course the bastard moved around in his sleep. You tried to force yourself back to sleep, but the noises never stopped. You could hear his knuckles crack as they gripped the side of the tatami mat, puff of air escaping the spongy padding.

He squirmed around noisily, small grunts and husky grumbles accompanying his heavy breathing. You sigh loudly, the room stilling. A pregnant pause followed. Pleased with the silence you closed your eyes again, trying to drift off.

A chesty rumble and a thump that sounded suspiciously like a fist hitting the mat had you flipping over, leaning up on your elbow to glare at the Espada "Grimmjow, what the hell are you doing?" 

"Nothing". He tightly snapped at you, lacking the usual hostility. He stared at the roof, refusing to look at you "go back to fucking sleep" 

"I can't, with all your moving around and grunting."  You try not to sound condescending, but really, who could sleep through all that racket. "What's the problem? Are you cold or something? I could put another log on the fire..?"

"Its rutting season" he growled out deeply, voice so thick and sticky he almost choked on the words... Rutting season? Oh. Oh  That'll explain the frenzied look he sported earlier. You were at a loss of what to say, what could you say? Shinigami didn't go through anything so animalistic

"can't you just..? Ignore it?" You ask, ignorance showing

"The fuck do you think I'm doing?" He snapped at you, patience clearly wearing thin

"making a fucking racket" you grumble back "can't you.. step outside.. take care of it?"

He snorted at your suggestion, legs moving around on the mat "damn shinigami, don't know nothing." 

"we don't have rutting seasons"  you reminded him softly

"It don't fucking work like that. Hands don't work. I gotta knot in a pussy" the crass wording had you sucking in a sharp breath. Not quite the civilised conversation you were anticipating, yet the next words sent a rush of heat rushing through you hotter than the fire itself "so unless your offering, shut the fuck up an go back to sleep"

Offering? To have sex with him? What an absurd notion. And yet... Grimmjow was good looking.. in a demented "I'll murder you and everyone you love" kinda way. Tall and with enough rippling muscles for three men. A cocky grin with surprisingly intriguingly sharp canines. While usually spitting insults, his voice was deep and sultry. And his hair, such an unusual colour, yet it fit him so perfectly.

It had been a while since you had indulged in that cardinal desire, your throbbing cunt attested to that. You could help him out.. if only to finally get some peace and quiet enough to go back to sleep.

"Alright, I'll help you" your voice sounded strained to your own ears. Grimmjow sat up suddenly at your words, staring at you as though you sprouted another head

"the fuck you just say?" Utter bewilderment filled his voice, lilt of eagerness filtering through

"I said, alright"it pained you to admit it, twice. "I won't be able to get any damn sleep until you stop moving around" 

Grimmjow pounced across the room, literally leaping through the air and landing easily on your bed. Feverish hands ripped off your blanket, eliciting a squeak of surprise from you at his eager haste. Rough large hands ripped your gown from your body, jagged line separating the cloth covering your body. You glared at him, for ruining your favourite sleeping gown. He payed not attention, throwing the scraps of ruined material over the side of the bed.

He had a crazed look in his eyes, taken over with the animalistic urge to mate. His chest heaved with heavy breaths as he removed his own top, you noticed how he didn't rip his clothing. Surging forward Grimmjow buried his nose into your neck, inhaling deeply. Your scent filled his nostrils, eliciting a rumbling deep from his chest. You cry out as he bit down brutally, sharp teeth sinking into the flesh where neck joins shoulder.

His hips bucked against your covered core at the tang of blood seeping through to his tongue, deep rumbling escaping around the mouthful of neck he had in his mouth, reminding you of the purr of a cat. A big fucking cat. Mercifully releasing you, he swiped a strong, hot lick against the wound, cleaning up the drops of blood pulled out. Seemingly finished marking you, Grimmjow pushed away his pants, large cock bobbing heavily between you. Your eyes went wide at the sight, throat drying painfully.

He was huge. While similar to that of humans, it was bigger than any you had previously seen, by quite a few generous inches. And thick, you wouldn't be able to close your hand around the veiny girth to touch your fingertips. You couldn't tell if the weight appearing in your lower stomach was from dread or lustful excitement at the knowledge it would soon be inside you.

Ignoring your inner turmoil, Grimmjow ripped your panties off you next, throwing the scrap of material to join the rest. Angry retort died on your lips as he surged forward, attempting to thrust into you

"wait!" You nearly scream, holding him back by planting your hands firmly on his chest, twisting your leg to cover your opening. He gave you a warning growl, hand gripping your thigh roughly to move it back from denying him access, crazed instincts telling him to mount. The punch to the jaw you delivered brought him back to his senses some what

"what?" He asked through clenched teeth, finally making eye contact

"you can't just force it in" you said pointedly, glancing down at the angry purpling head of his dick. He gave you a questioning look, head tilted to the side in a feline manor. "You got to get me wet first"

Grimmjow rolled his eyes, crawling down your body he crouched down to be eye level with your core, before spitting loudly straight onto your cunt. You felt the hot liquid hit you, and recoiled at the grotesque action. Your mind almost short circuited when he tried again to mount you. You planted a foot on his chest this time, pushing him back.

"fucking now what?!" he almost roared at you, getting frustrated at being denied what had already been offered.

"not like that ,you brute!"

"fucking woman! You said wet, that's wet!" He let out his frustration by pushing against your leg planted on his chest

"We aren't naturally wet inside, Grimmjow. We need to be stimulated by foreplay,". You spoke to him slowly, like teaching a child "you need to use your fingers or tongue to stretch me, your dick will rip me otherwise " you begrudgingly add, he definitely didn't need the ego boost of knowing he was very well endowed. He caught the meaning anyway, cocky smirk making a reappearance on his face. "Try and make me actually want to fuck you, for fucks sake" you add exasperated, flopping back onto the pillow.

This time you allowed him to remove your foot from his chest, letting it fall to the side, opening up your thighs. His wet, warm tongue suddenly tasted you in a steady lick up the slit of your cunt. You sigh, letting your eyes close to savour the feelings, letting yourself relax enough to enjoy it. He repeated the action, delving in between your folds a little more with every lick.

Grimmjow let his mouth salivate at the new taste, his animalistic side relishing in the musky taste of a mate. Letting his spit slide down onto his tongue to leave on your silky hot folds. A breathy moan escapes you, shooting straight to Grimmjows throbbing, neglected cock. He gave an answering growl, plunging his tongue deep into your depths, patience slowly but surly hitting their limits.

He needed to start rutting, and soon. Your own natural lubricant began coating his tongue, setting his tastebuds alight with the heady taste. Pushing his face in deeper, chasing the slightly salty tang, his nose brushed against something that made you jerk below him with a loud moan. He pulled out of you, lower face dampened by his sloppy work, in search for what made you call out.

At the top of your dusky pink cunt was a small protruding bump, inquisitively, he brushed his finger against it. Another moan ripped from you, back arching from the bed, thrusting your hips up encouragingly. Grimmjow rubbed against it again, getting the same reaction.

Not letting up on his thumb pressing against the little button that had you bucking like a bitch in heat, Grimmjow shoved two fingers inside you roughly. He could feel your tight inner walls sucking around his fingers, clenching them tightly. Thrusting them in and out quickly, gaining hardly any give in your vice like grip, Grimmjow sped up his movements, practically punching his knuckles either side of his submerged digits into the soft flesh on your pussy.

You writhed beneath him, pleasure outshining the pain he inflicted on your sensitive mound. A steady stream of appreciative moans left your lips, turning into keening groans as he added another finger, stretching you out in preparation for his even larger phallic. Lost in a sea of contradictory feelings, you didn't feel your orgasm approaching until it crashed over you, pulling you deeper into a spiral of blind bliss.

Grimmjow felt the sudden gush of liquid on his fingers, getting pushed out messily by his thrusting fingers. First he sneered, assuming you had disgustingly wet yourself, pissing all over his hand. Until his sensitive nose picked up the scent, the same heady musk he had tasted from within you. Mouth watering, wanting to taste the tangy substance once more, Grimmjow removed his soaked fingers, going straight to the source to drink down the glistening wetness.

Lust filled fog lifted slowly from your mind, feeling Grimmjow greedily lap at your spasming Cunt, you tried to push his head away. Grimmjow possessively growled into you, gripping your thighs to stop you denying him his reward.

"Grimmjow" you called to him to no prevail, he ignored your voice, lapping at you hungrily. You ran your fingers through his hair, tugging sharply. Like a cornered beast he pinned you to the bed by your wrists, staring challengingly into your eyes with a predatory look. His mouth was wet with your arousal, you could smell your scent on his chin as he tumbled above you in warning.

"Grimmjow," you tried again, submissively lowering your tone, whispering meekly. "You need to leave it wet, so you don't hurt me with your cock"

The mention of his cock seemed to remind him of the aching member hanging heavily between you. Releasing you with a huff, Grimmjow fisted himself, groaning at the full tug he gave himself. Lining up with your centre, he pushed in swiftly, burying himself as deep as he could go, stopping only when the engorged head of his dick bumped against your cervix. You cry out at the sudden intrusion, painfully stretching you beyond your limits. Your inner walls protested at the too big invasion, squeezing painfully around it.

Tears stung your eyes, mouth gasping to pull air into your lungs. It was too big, too much to handle. Grimmjow didn't allow you any time to adjust to the size, rutting his hips into you feverishly, cardinal desire to breed consuming his mind. You felt the burn as his rigid cock dragged against your walls, pushing against them unbending. Small sparks of pleasure tried to push through the overwhelming stretch, Grimmjow hitting every sweet spot mercilessly with each frenzied thrust. You concluded he was too big, too thick to miss, accuracy wouldn't be needed.

Grimmjows chest rumbled with a constant primal gravel. Pupils blown wide, the Panthera focused his gaze on the vivid bite mark on your neck. Powerful hips thrusted into you cruelly, chasing after his cardinal need to procreate. Dipping his head, Grimmjows lips found the swell of your breast, sucking the soft flesh into his mouth to clamp his teeth into. The cry you gave only spurred him on to leave his mark. The jagged tenth of his broken hollow mask scraped against your nipple, spike of pleasure burst through the pain.

At your whimper Grimmjow released you, deranged look in his eyes. You flinched when he lowered himself to your face, tilting your head to the side as a strained moan ripped from your throat. Half expecting another bite, your eyes closed, bracing for the new flash of pain. Instead of the sharp bite, you felt his tongue drag slowly up your cheek. The saltiness from your sweat flavoured your skin, Grimmjow hungrily sought out the delicacy, licking at your face protectively.

Rutting instincts being satisfied, the demented haze lessened enough for Grimmjow to filter through is own thoughts and wants. Seeing you panting beneath him, squirming in pleasure, face screwed up in painful bliss was a beautiful sight. But it wasn't what he wanted, what the alpha demanded of his willing mate.

The rough withdrawal of his dick had you gasping at the reprieve, legs fell flat to the bed heavily,muscles twitching in protest. The gap in the brutal penetration was short lived, however, when Grimmjow used his superior strength to throw you to your stomach. Equilibrium fighting to right itself, two large hands gripped painfully into your hips, forcibly dragging you to your knees. Round ass held in the air, glistening cunt on full display for his viewing pleasure.

The Espada slid his hand up the length of your back, cupping the back of your neck to push your face into the mattress. Pushing your hair away from the most delicate part of your neck, portraying the Vulnerable submission the alpha so desperately seeked. He thrusted his dick back into your dripping heat, claiming his mate.

Your back arched at the reappearance of his cock stretching you sinfully. Groaning with the wet slapping of skin meeting skin. Fingers dug into the fleshy part of your ass, kneeling the swell in his palms. Grimmjow had his eyes fixated on the way your ass rippled with every thrust, his cock disappearing into your hot, tight hole. Your wetness spraying out with every plunge, wetting his lower stomach and thighs.

The smell was intoxicating, addicting. Breathing deep he could almost taste the musky aroma, eliciting a feline hiss. His hands spread your ass cheeks revealing your puckered hole. Spitting loudly he watched as his saliva trickled down the valley between your cheeks, sliding over that hidden hole. Using a finger to gather the moisture, not wanting you to bitch at him again, the arrancar pushed his way through the tight ring of muscles.

You yelped at the sudden intrusion, spent body easily accepting the new addition as you laid heavily into the mattress. His brutal thrusts hadn't let up through his curious exploration, steadily pushing you further towards the most natural of highs. Grimmjows chest swelled with pride of having calmed both of your holes, muscles squeezing devilishly tight.

The heat encasing his cock was driving him wild, with feral intensity, the instincts to breed filled him. Slipping from your ass, he gripped your hips bruisingly, snapping you back onto his rutting cock brutally. The pleasure filled scream you have had his balls tightening. He could feel the knot forming in the middle of his dick, getting caressed by the tight velvety walls with each drag of his impressive length

"m'gunna fill you full of pups" he growled out, panting harshly "gunna fill your cunt with my seed" 

You scream out in pleasure, the knot forming inside you pushing against your already straining walls, rubbing roughly against your pleasure spot hidden away in your depths. "Your mine" the growled word's emphasised with increasingly powerful thrusts. A hand left your hip, wrapping it around your throat to pull you back into a painful bend. "My mate" 

Sharp teeth sunk into the back of your neck, latching on viciously. Hot pants forced through his teeth, heating up the bruising skin trapped in their hold. A bright light burst from behind your eyes as you descended into euphoric darkness. Violent tremors raked through your body as you convulsed around the dick forcing you into the most powerful orgasm you had ever endured. The strong hold on your neck the only thing keeping you from spiralling into the darkness threatening to pull you under.

The impossibly tight, the cunt surrounding his cock clamped down. Grimmjow erratically rutted into you in short bursts, knot no longer allowing him to pull out from your sopping channel. The knot snapped in a painful burst, seed rushing from him in blinding pleasure. The Panthera released the hold his teeth had on your neck to yowl loudly into the room. Hips stilling as his seed erupted inside you, filling you with his hot cum.

The lustful instinct to mate melted away at his release. Control over his mind filtered back slowly, allowing him to see the state he had left you in. Angry teethmarks sat proudly at the back of your neck. Slumped forward in his hold, your sweat soaked body hung limply, raggedly sucking in desperate breaths.

Laying himself across your back, Grimmjow Manoeuvered you both to lay down on the small bed on your sides. Knotted cock still buried deep inside you, Grimmjow moulded himself to your back, wrapping his arm around you protectively. On the brink of sleep you squirm, wincing at the pinch in your abused pussy caused by the pull of the knot keeping him in.

"stay still" his gruff voice held a semblance care, large hand soothing over the bruises left by his fingers on your hips "y'gotta let it go down or it'll rip ya apart"

Your body pushed to the brink of what it could take started to shiver, muscles periodically twitching as they relaxed. Thinking you were cold, Grimmjow grabbed the sorry excuse for a blanket, draping it over you. Head buried in your neck, Grimmjow soothed the marks left there with his tongue, methodically licking over the wounds, soothing the dull throbbing.

Arm wrapped protectively around you, slowly deflating cock nestled deeply within you, you fell into unconsciousness with Grimmjows cool tongue lapping at your skin. Satisfied you were cleaned up enough, Grimmjow tightened the hold he had on you, savouring the feel of his cock being warmed by your hole, full to the brim with his seed. Burying his head in your hair, letting your smell fill his senses as he joined you in sleep he so desperately needed, whispering a single word as he succumbed to the pull

"mine"

[wangxianficrecs]

Rewind 2024 - Part IV

WangxianFicRecs - Rewind 2024

The final part of our favourite stories published in 2024. Thank you everyone for your support this year and most of all, thank you to all the dedicated fanfic authors this fandom has - you're really the heart of it all.

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Thief's kiss

by danegen (@danegen)

E, 6k, Wangxian | Kay's Rec

Summary: "This time, I’ll run, and you can chase me.” Lan Zhan’s eyelashes flutter in delicate, adorable confusion. “When I catch you . . .” “If you catch me.” Wei Wuxian wags a finger at him. “If you catch me, you can do whatever you want.” That makes . . . something happen on Lan Zhan’s face. Something that makes Wei Wuxian shiver. Wei Wuxian accidentally tells Lan Wangji about their strange game of chase that night at the inn. His solution to this predicament? Obviously, they need to play again!

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cookin' up a storm, piece of cake

by livinginaworldofnoise (@gh0st-0f-luke)

G, 9k, Wangxian | Kay's Rec

Summary: yiling_patriarch: first time making a cake with alcohol! it’s still in the oven but it smells great so far ↳ Gusu Lan Kitchen: There is no alcohol listed in the ingredients for this recipe. yiling_patriarch: i didn’t have any oranges or orange juice so i replaced those with a can of orange sparkling margarita! tasted super weird [★★☆☆☆] ↳ Gusu Lan Kitchen: Are you being deliberately obtuse? OR: life is tough for baker!lwj when online troll!wwx won't stop commenting on his recipe blog

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In the end

by apathyinreverie (@apathyinreverie)

T, 4k, Wangxian | Kay's Rec

Summary: Wei Ying does not die. He falls. But he has fallen before. Death devours him. But the dead have devoured him before. He falls and he breaks and still he lives. Or something like it, at least. (An AU where WWX does not die. Well, mostly.)

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Looked so alive, turns out i'm not real

by KatAnni (@kat-anni)

M, 36k, Wangxian | Kay's Rec

Part of MDZS Big Bang 2024

Summary: "Nothing leaves the Burial Mounds alive." Lan Wangji goes on a side mission night hunt with Wei Wuxian during the Sunshot Campaign, and finds out just how true that statement is. Inquiry rings through the room, and Wei Wuxian answers. This of course, has consequences. For the MDZS Big Bang 2024, Collab with @sweetlittlevampire

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Devil Flute Upon Graves, Wei Ying

by cloudyrobinwrites (jwyoomi) (@chirpycloudyrobin)

M, WIP, Series, 53k, Wangxian & Hualian | Kay's Rec

Summary: Wei Wuxian received the news of his first death a little bit too late.

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🔒 baby fever

by Mamoonde (@mamoonde)

T, WIP, 4k, Wangxian | Kay's Rec

Summary: Lan Zhan wakes to a pounding on his door in the middle of the night. For a moment, he assumes Wei Ying must’ve come over after all. Instead, it is Jiang Cheng, soaked and covered in mud, and holding a child— A child who looks up sheepishly, with the same light grey eyes as Wei Ying. “I told him we didn’t need to bother you, but he insisted you would want to help.” Jiang Cheng says. or: yet another wwx age regression fic. but modern cultivation au.

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had a marvelous time ruining everything

by livinginaworldofnoise (@gh0st-0f-luke)

G, 8k, Wangxian | Kay's Rec

Summary: “Great news, though—well, actually, it may depend how you define ‘great.’” Wei Wuxian folds himself into a cross-legged position and makes a sweeping gesture with one arm toward the closet, from which Lan Wangji can now hear a strange rattling noise. “While you were gone I managed to catch another one!” “Another . . . cat?” Lan Wangji pulls the closet door open wider and stares at the cage he finds there, inside of which a small black cat is clinging to the ceiling bars with all the desperation of a cornered wild animal. “That’s Volcano!” Wei Wuxian says by way of explanation. “She’s a little spicy.” OR: 5 times wangxian's feral kittens get in the way of lan wangji proposing + 1 time they help

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🔒 sweet decadence

by breaththrou

M, WIP, 27k, Wangxian | Kay's Rec

Summary: Lan Xichen breathed in sharply, a crazed laugh escaping him. He lifted his gaze to meet his eyes, a look of despair etched onto the hard lines of his face. "My brother... my brother has always been our mother's child. For that, he could not live. He is gone. I could not find him, and I could not have brought him home. I can only hope now that Wangji is at rest," he said quietly, the wind whipping the greying locks of his hair around his face. Wei Wuxian stared at him, horrified. Lan Xichen looked away as fresh tears rolled down his cheeks. "I have only ever wished happiness for my brother, but I fear I have instead brought him death."

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Catharsis

by Starfell123

T, 9k, Wangxian | Kay's Rec

Summary: “Look, I know I’m probably foolish. I know that the chances of this not being a business-meeting are slim to none, but I need to know for sure. If Uncle Jiang wants to apologize, I’ll give him a chance to do so. If not, I want to tell him where to stick it in person.” Thirteen years after being thrown out by the Jiangs, Jiang Fengmian contacts Wei Wuxian and asks to meet. Wei Wuxian goes in the hopes of reconciling with his adopted family, but the circumstances he finds himself in wont allow that to happen. What will he do when his former guardian tries to arrange a marriage for him that will benefit the Jiang-sect?

~*~

To Love the God of Death

by Amber_Horizon

E, WIP, 27k, Wangxian | Kay's Rec

Summary: Jin Guangyao, God of the Sky, sees Mo Xuanyu's interest as an opportunity to gain control. Just before Mo Xuanyu is to be appointed the new God of the Underworld, he performs a self sacrificing ritual to escape his fate. Wei Wuxian returns from the dead after 13 years. He wakes in a new body, surrounded by evil talismans, and perhaps worst of all, face-to-face with Lan Xichen, God of the Sea.

~*~

Tides

by Anonymous

G, 1k, Wangxian | Kay's Rec

Summary: When their routine is interrupted, Wei Ying gets himself and Lan Zhan ready for bed.

~*~

咏红尘 | an ode to red dust

by auberjing (@wrecklwj)

E, 39k, Wangxian | Mojo's Rec to be posted soon!

Part of Bottomji Big Bang 2024

Summary: A-Fu apologises for intruding. Shall I bring you a woman?” Lan Wangji recoils. The question lands like a physical blow: violent, distasteful, and absurd. “No.” “Then,” A-Fu murmurs. “If you wish, I could… relieve you. As a servant, it is my duty.” Or: Crown prince Lan Wangji is taken hostage by Wen Ruohan, who has taken the throne after deposing the incumbent emperor. While imprisoned, Lan Wangji is assigned a handsome eunuch servant named A-Fu. Outwardly, A-Fu is mild and attentive, but his whispered hints at rebellion appear to be the start of something momentous and revelatory…

~*~

redemption, repentance

by stiltonbasket (@stiltonbasket)

G, 3k, Xuanli | Kay's Rec

Summary: Five months after the Sunshot Campaign, Jin Zixuan travels to Lotus Pier to ask for Jiang Yanli's hand in marriage.

~*~

Watch me ignite it

by tawaen

T, 10k, Wangxian | Kay's Rec

Summary: The news spreads quickly across the cultivation world – Wen Ruohan is dead and his murderer declared himself the new leader of the Qishan Wen sect. Wei Wuxian is described as a demon, as a brutal warlord, as a threat to the very existence of the cultivation world. He is also, unfortunately, the most attractive person Lan Wangji has ever met.

~*~

🔒 counting the hours back to you

by ribena

E, 17k, Wangxian | Kay's Rec

Summary: It has been three months, two days, eleven hours, thirteen minutes, and fifteen seconds since Wei Ying broke up with him, which is why he is the last person Lan Zhan expects to be knocking on his door at one in the morning. “Wei Ying,” he says, the name already strange and unfamiliar on his tongue, “what are you doing here?” “The trains are cancelled,” Wei Ying says miserably, and then looks up at Lan Zhan properly for the first time, if only for a split second. There’s nothing but utter defeat in his eyes. He wouldn’t be here, of course, unless all other avenues of rescue have been exhausted, because it has been three months, two days, eleven – “I have to get home. It’s my sister’s wedding.”

~*~

A Dragon's Tail

by IamTheLemonLord (@iamthelemonlord)

E, 36k, Wangxian | Kay's Rec to be posted soon!

Part of TopXian RBB

Summary: While visiting the Cloud Recesses for the first time, Wei Wuxian's tail intertwines with Lan Wangji's, a boy who wants nothing to do with him. Now engaged, the two have until they reach adulthood to get to know each other and decide if a future together is something they want. Things would be easier if horny voices in their head would stop yelling at them at inappropriate times.

~*~

Practical Considerations

by teawater & the_anthropologist

E, 96k, Wangxian | Kay's Rec to be posted soon!

Summary: After the Sunshot Campaign Wei Wuxian is fooling around in Lotus Pier, and Jiang Cheng decides that he'd be more useful to the sect if he was to enter a diplomatic marriage. Especially since Lan Wangji seems so keen on dragging him away to Gusu. Only Wei Wuxian doesn't expect any good to come from it...

~*~

Where No Flesh Decks The Bone

by deliciousblizzardshark (@deliciousblizzardshark)

E, 20k, Wangxian | Mojo's Rec

Summary: When Wei Ying falls into the Burial Mounds, he’s rescued not by the Yin Iron, but by a strange, twisted creature who heals his body and slips into his mind. Now ridden by Lan Zhan, a bodiless creature ignorant of human customs and brimming with the desire for revenge against the cultivators who threw his mother into the Burial Mounds, Wei Ying has the power to take down the Wen sect for good– if he and the creature can learn to work together. (Or the Venom-inspired canon-divergence Untamed fic no one asked for.)

~*~

Push It

by phonciblepbone

E, 7k, Wangxian | Kay's Rec to be posted soon!

Summary: "Wei Ying. Good morning. I assumed you had the same sex education as I had, and thus did not need to be informed of the existence of the prostate." "Not the existence, Lan Zhan, of course I knew they existed! I mean that it's…" Wei Ying trails off, looking at Lan Zhan imploringly. "Like that."

~*~

Comfortable in your skin

by Dooiney_Oie (@lexicals)

T, 17k, Wangxian | Kay's Rec to be posted soon!

Summary: "Lan Zhan?" he stuttered, his own voice too deep, looking into a face that should be his and which was now flushed pink with anger. "What did you do?" was the answering reply. Despite the sheer fury being directed his way, Wei Wuxian started to laugh. "Me?" he asked, feeling a touch hysterical, not least because he was being scolded by himself, "You were the one who broke it!" - That nightmare scenario where you end up stuck in the body of the one guy who hates(?) you.

~*~

💙 I'll Take Such Great Care of You

by CheekyBrunette

G, 49k, Wangxian | Kay's Rec to be posted soon!

Summary: Sizhui has grown up with a single father. Now, he learns what it is like to have a mom.

~*~

(Please REBLOG as a signal boost for these hard-working authors if you like – or think others might like – these stories.)

[respectthepetty]

GMMTV 2025 - Hot Tops and One Bottom

GMMTV offered up ONE straight show, and even though I'm salty that I didn't get Midnight Museum 2 and despite the current state of the world, I have never been happier to be alive at this exact moment that I'm living in. GMMTV really cemented that it is Disney BL, and said FUCK THEM HETEROS!

As usual, I'm listing what shows I'm most excited to see from GMMTV's annual unveiling, but in order to be fair to the other shows, I will not consider one of the shows in the rankings because I am a Jaidee fan first, and a human second:

Dare You to Death

My boys are giving me ~Murder, Manipulate, Make-Out, and MAYHEM~ so I'm already seated, sat, and sitted. I've always thought Joong should play a character who was insincere and a bit crazy, and Dunk should lean into his haughtiness (emphasis on HOT), so even though all these other shows look great, they aren't JoongDunk trying to solve a murder while trying to not murder each other, and it would be unfair of me to hold that against everyone else. I was going to take whatever I was getting from them, but THIS?! Sorry, to everyone else, but y'all never stood a chance.

#1a - Memoir of Rati

Moment of honesty - Inn and Great are fine as fuck. They are already attractive to begin with, so to put them in a historical drama, of course, I'm going to eat it up. This is a serious piece about political and social tensions which I have no doubts they will carry into getting some awards for it. I was getting worried that these two weren't going to have another show together next year, but not only did GMMTV give them one of the meatier plots, the series also has Aou and Boom in it with an amazing story as well, so this was easily my top choice.

Or at least it was my top choice until . . .

#1b - Ticket to Heaven

Religious trauma aligned with Catholicism is my special brand of queer angst, so this series already has me all the way fucked up. Fourth is such a phenomenal actor and Gemini always acts his ass off, so I know they will have me in a fetal position every single episode clutching my rosary and praying for God's mercy since I'm already in my feelings about this. The heathens in the room better read up on some biblical references because if you thought I was doing too much over a cross necklace in Let Free the Curse of Taekwondo and the praying in The Warp Effect, I Saw You in My Dreams, and Marahuyo Project, block me now because that was only the tip of the religious iceberg.

#2 - Cat for Cash

Although I'm a vegetarian, I'm a Disney villain who strongly dislikes animals, yet even I was happy to see First getting advice from cats on how to make coffee and how to win over Khao. This is the FirstKhao romance we have been waiting for! It looks soft and sincere, and even though the plot involves hearing cats, First as the worst debt collector and Khao as a grieving sad boy are their most realistic characters they have ever played. The series also looks like it's going to make me cry, so thank goodness Satang showed up to make sure I would be emotional about every show GMMTV gives me next year.

#3 - That Summer

On the topic of Satang, I'm shocked that I clicked with this trailer. I was ready to write this off as a Hallmark series due to its plot about a prince with amnesia falling in love with a commoner until the trailer revealed that he doesn't have amnesia, and the commoner knows he is a prince. The trailer situated the problem will come from their class differences plus Mond is kissing a homie (in secret), and since I just asked for more series with sad wet boys on the beach, this show goes at the top for GMMTV delivering me something I didn't know I wanted but a show I definitely needed.

#4 - A Dog and a Plane

Tay and New got me by the throat in 2019 and 2024 with Dark Blue Kiss and Peaceful Property, and even when I wanted to be mad at Cherry Magic, I couldn't because these men always sell the hell out of a ship even when they shouldn't. I'm a Jaidee fan first, and a human second, but I'll throw on some polar bear and whale jammies any day to join the Polcas because Tay and New have not disappointed me once in their joint shows or individual shows. So here I am, super duper excited to see New play a GAY flight attendant (a stereotype I love to see) whose man is trying to screw Pun only for Tay to take the hush money yet still catch feelings AND FLIGHTS! Marc's there too, so it's time I was served openly gay men who are trying to join the mile-high club since it's been over a decade since I got Pedro Almodóvar's I'm So Excited.

#5 - My Romance Scammer

I support marriage equality, but I do not believe in the institution of marriage, so I'm thrilled that GMMTV decided to throw me some gay divorce the same year gay marriage was legalized! Next, I'm getting the odd ball couple of Ohm and Fluke with Fluke being a dummy who falls for the first man who is nice to him, only for Marc to think he has a great relationship with Junior, BUT IT'S ALL A SCAM! I will probably end up defending this show with my life because this is the romcom romcoN I deserve!

Side Quest - Tarot Card Series

The theme for this year's announcement was "Riding the Wave" but it should have been "Wheel of Fortune" because there were a lot of shows about destiny and changing the future, so I'm going to rank those in a quick sub-category:

1) My Magic Prophecy

This is the dynamic I want to see from Jimmy and Sea. Jimmy IS a doctor, so getting a clean-cut smarmy version of him will pair so well with muscular Sea being a jerk. I was going to make a quirky comment about how they can now see the future as a reference to Last Twilight, but I'm still salty about that show, so I'll just be happy for them and THIS show.

2) Head 2 Head

I'm excited for the Only Boo kids because I think they should've gotten the My Love Mix-Up remake since I think they do well with being complete opposites that make perfect sense being together. This is also how I found out that Surf from I Saw You in My Dream is now with GMMTV.

So although it was awkward to realize GMMTV had acquired another BL boy under my chismosa nose (am I slipping?), it's nice to see the company staying on brand as Disney BL in its attempt to capture all the Pokemon Avengers BL Boys.

3) Wu

Since I've been watching High School Frenemy through my dash, I know plenty of people will be ecstatic to see Nani and Sky play soulmates, again (because High School Fremeny is gay af!), but I'm showing up because I got the red bracelets of destiny tying the boys together!

The trailers this year were surprisingly lax on the colors, so I'm taking what I can get how I get it. Bring me the RED STRING OF FATE!

4) MU-TE-LUV

This is Club Sapan Fine with a different name so it's going to be campy and messy. But do I think GMMTV will handle fems well? No. Am I pressed about it? Also, no. Because I actually watch AND enjoy Club Sapan Fine, so if GMMTV wants to try its hand at wild wacky camp in an anthology-style series, I'm down to clown, at least for the queer episodes that is.

5) Melody of Secrets

This was originally going to be number three on my Tops List, but as the trailer continued, I got more confused. Then, Force's face blurred and it looked like he got snatched by a demon, so I got scared. Like real scared. I don't eff with los espookys, so I'll be watching this show with the lights on and my Care Bear squad to protect me.

Honorable Mentions

I watch ALL GMMTV queer shows (and even the ones that only I think are queer), so I'll still enjoy something about these shows, but they were just lacking that special razzle dazzle:

Burnout Syndrome

Director Nuchy. Gun in black lipstick. Gun being a sex worker. Off being an asshole. Thor. Poly(?). This should have been my Holy Grail, but I can't believe the show will give me a proper love conflict when OffGun are a branded pair. Also, Nuchy gave me ToddBlack, who I will NEVER be over, so even though I know she can and will give me *THE* toxic couple to root for above all other toxicitos, unless these two are about to drown each other in that bathtub and play Olympic-levels of mind games with each other, I'm reserving my excitement until it airs.

Me and Thee

A soap-opera loving mafioso. Pond in suits with slicked-back hair. Phuwin being beautiful. Santa looking delicious. Est back in his Naughty Babe assistant mode. Perth. COLORS! Just like Burnout Syndrome, on paper it looks like something I would devour, but a third of that trailer was Pond and Phuwin in a bathtub, and in my Michelle Visage voice, "stop relying on that body" even if that's the biggest reason I'll be showing up to watch.

Whale Store

Milk licked cat food off of Love's finger, and I fear this might be too lesbian for me. I don't kink shame, and I'm always down to eat a girl out go down, but cat food? Really, sis? On top of that, this felt like a JittiRain series with Love's character clearly hiding something that is going to hurt Milk's character, then the side couple was crying and making everything awkward. I support the lesbians. I support queer rights AND wrongs. I'll be repeating this even as I'm watching it.

Boys in Love

GMMTV was smart putting all the new kids in a show with Papang x Podd as the little older romance crumbs to keep us satisfied for the time being, but that's also why I'm being petty. If this is the stepping stone for Papang and Podd to be leads for GMMTV 2026, then I'll take what I can get, but I feel like Oliver Twist asking for more porridge, when I should already be getting a damn buffet!

Love You Teacher

This show almost had me in the first half. Sam's character was giving me everything. The premise was solid. Perth was an already gay man in a long-term relationship with his boyfriend. Things were going well even with the accident. Then, the show brought on the real plot --- seven-year-olds. Jesús Cristo. It was a lovely time up until then, and now, just like the cat food, I'm realizing new things about myself and my boundaries on a random Tuesday morning, and I don't like it.

Girl Rules

This is the female version of Only Friends saran wrapped in women's empowerment. No me gusta pero lo voy a ver because I support queer wrongs even when they are oh-so-very wrong.

The Love of Siam: The Musical

What. The. Fuck. But also, sign me up!

Dishonorable Mention - Only Friends 2: Dream On

I've reached new heights in my pettiness because this show is in Petty Prison before it even airs. My blog is a living record of how badly I wanted Minx Mix and Flirty Fluke in the first season of Only Friends. It was the only thing I could think about; then, I ended up hating the first season, so I counted my blessings that Minx Mix only showed up for two whole seconds and Flirty Fluke was nowhere in sight. And now this has happened. This is a lesson in "be careful what you wish for" because I have never been more upset that I finally got what I wanted. Unless the show gives Boston his cake and lets him eat it to, I'm not watching it. Not Minx Mix, Flirty Fluke, or Ohm's body could convince me to do this a second time.