#Shadow Moon oneshot

[wereh0gz]

Not feeling great abt some of my creative endeavors rn

[simp2537]

Moon Helios Act I Faceclaims

Niko Dubinsky

Isla Vernio 

Egon Waldow

Rosica Nevera

Kheli Vemra

Zan Ostrowski

Adam Peev

Alina Starkov

Malyen Oretsev

Ares

Aphrodite

Poseidon

[hugsandchaos]

“Okay, little mage, I think it’s time for bed.” Lancelot said as he picked his son up. Galahad made no effort to argue or fight back as long as he got to be carried back.”Goodnight, Papa.” He yawned. A soft breeze flew by them and Lancelot used his chaos powers to pick up his guitar as he helped Galahad wrap his light blue blanket around himself.

Beneath the dimmer shades of light from the stars and moon, his son’s fur almost glowed slightly, while he looked like a walking shadow from a distance. He once wondered if that was why he was named Shadow, but then he learned about the project. Galahad double checked he had his frog plush named Hopper, even though it was in his hands already, and Lancelot began walking. Using his chaos powers, he began to play a tune on his guitar and hummed.

“Days seem sometimes as if they’ll never end...”

Lancelot began to walk back to the cabin he and his son lived in as Galahad smiled, hugging his frog a little tighter and nuzzling against Lancelot’s white patch of fur on his chest.

“Sun digs its heels to taunt you...”

“But after sunlight days, one thing stays the same; Rises the moon...”

“Days fade into a watercolor blur...”

Lancelot thought back to the day the ARK was attacked by G.U.N., the day he lost his first ever friend, along with his “innocence” as the humans called it.

“Memories swim, and haunt you,”

He brought himself back to the present and reminded himself that he’d do anything to protect his new child, especially from G.U.N.

“But look into the lake, shimmering like smoke, Rises the moon...”

Galahad let out a small yawn, barley showing his small teeth, and relaxed as Lancelot continued walking.

“Ooh, close your weary eyes... I promise you that soon the autumn comes to darken fading summer skies...”

“Breathe, breathe, breathe...”

Galahad’s smile started to fade, but not in a frowny-bad way. He was starting to drift off, and Lancelot couldn’t stop himself from smiling. He continued walking through the fields, taking the clearer way back. Yes, he was out in the open, but this way, any threats would also be out in the open and he could take care of it quicker. Not to mention this path was smoother.

As he hummed, Lancelot kept using his chaos energy to carry and play the guitar.

“Days pull you down just like a sinking ship...”

Galahad breathing began to slow down, but not in a way that concerned Lancelot. He knew his son was falling asleep and double checked that the blanket Galahad brought with them was covering him well enough to keep him from feeling the cool breeze.

“Floating is getting harder, but tread the water, child, and know that meanwhile... Rises the moon...”

Speaking of the moon, the light of the crescent made it so that it was bright enough for a normal person to see after a bit of time in the still dark night, yet dark enough for Galahad to fall sleep, which was what was happening.

“Days pull you up just like a daffodil...”

Lancelot saw the cabin he built in the distance and felt a bit relieved. Galahad would soon sleep in his own bed, safe and sound under the covers.

“Uprooted from its garden... They’ll tell you what you owe, but know even so... Rises the moon...”

Lancelot used a bit more chaos energy to open the door, and manipulated it so it wouldn’t produce sound as he walked inside.

“You’ll be visited by sleep...”

The dark hedgehog closed the door behind him and walked upstairs to his son’s bedroom, doing the same thing with his door.

“I promise you that soon the autumn comes to steal away each dream you keep...”

Lancelot slowly and gently set Galahad down on the mattress and got another blanket out from the closet. Autumn was indeed right around the corner, and Galahad got cold much easier than he did. Mostly on account that he was the ultimate life form and that he barley notices as much change in temperature as others, but Lancelot also believed it was because of how little he was. Galahad hugged his frog a bit tighter as Lancelot tucked him under the second blanket.

“Breathe, breathe, breathe...”

He silently backed into the doorway and grabbed the handle. Once the last few notes were played, he used his chaos energy to levitate his guitar out of the room.”Sweet dreams, son.” Lancelot whispered softly.

He closed the door and began making his way to his bedroom, which was opposite side of Galahad. The funny thing is that wether or not he had a good or bad dream, he could always count on Galahad unknowingly waking him up on accident early in the morning or in the middle of the night for cuddles.

[silverskyeline]

'joyride' 18+

✭ logan promptober day 1 - motorbike oneshot - logan fucks you on his (scotts) motorbike in the middle of the forest because you can't keep it down inside the mansion. (1.7k words) pairing - logan howlett (x-men timeline) + afab!reader tags - established relationship, reader lives at the x-mansion, pet names + praising (princess, doll, good girl etc), he fucks you on scotts bike, lots of dirty talk, dom!logan and sub!reader, wet mentions, creampie, overstimulation, reader orgasms twice, he covers your mouth to keep you quiet, outdoor sex, a little rough, reader wears a skirt.

.・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・.

it's dark, the trees and forest surrounding the road only serving to cloak the ground below even further. you can make out his silhouette above you, lit only by the moon high in the sky. he's big, broad, towering over you as his frame moves with each thrust, casting a shadow down upon your body.

he's got you laying on your back on his bike parked at the side of the road. well, scott's bike. logan would clean it before he returned it, or maybe he wouldn't. scott was well acquainted with cleaning up messes.

.・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・.

you fit perfectly against the seat, your back supported against the fuel tank with your legs draped over either side of him on his thighs. his rough hands had hiked your shirt up over your chest, revealing your breasts that he'd littered with kisses just moments before plunging deep inside of you.

"wore a skirt cus' you knew i was gonna fuck you, huh?" he grins, you can just about make out a flash of white from his teeth in the darkness. you don't want to say yes, too embarrassed to, but he knows that's exactly why you dressed the way you did. "givin' me easy access? how kind of you, doll."

soft little moans are slipping from your lips from the way his cock eases past your panties he's pushed to the side and glides inside of you with little resistance. he fills you so perfectly, your walls have become accustomed to his thick length and crave the way it stretches you out just right.

he's holding you in place, gripping your waist as he picks up the pace. the bike creaks a little with the movement, protesting under the rigorous thrusting. "good girl. . ." he coos with a low grumble, "tell me how it feels, tell me how i'm makin' you feel."

"feels so good," you whimper, it's all you can manage, letting your head fall back against the metal of the handlebars, one hand gripping the side of the bike and the other gripping the front of logan's white tank to keep yourself steady.

he could listen to you all day, he's drowning in the noises you make, his heightened hearing serving him well - the quiet mewls, the wet sounds from your dripping pussy, the way your breath hitches in your throat. logan drinks it all up, his mouth watering, he can't get enough.

"bet you were gettin' wet the whole way here," he grumbles through each thrust, "bet you left a real pretty wet patch on the seat, didn't ya?" there's a clear smirk in his voice as he continues, "mmh, n' now you're takin' my cock like you were made for it. takin' it so fuckin' well, look at that. . ."

his eyes drift downwards to watch the way his length disappears inside your pretty pink pussy, he exhales shakily at the sight of you sucking him in. he pulls out, almost all the way but not quite, seeing how your slick glistens on his dick in the moonlight. his eyes flutter shut as he slams back in, biting his lip as you instinctively clench around him at the harsh movement.

you cry out and it echoes into the forest, thighs tensing as his dick curves inside of you, threatening to hit that spot that makes you go fucking crazy. the sound you make spurs him on, encourages him, a low rumbling laugh escaping him as he fucks into you with renewed vigour.

"takin' it like a good girl," he praises you, rubbing his thumbs across the exposed skin on your waist as he watches your chest bounce with every slam of his cock, "but you gotta be quiet, yeah? they'll be able to hear you back at the mansion with those moans, am i makin' you feel that good?"

you can't help but nod, whimpering softly in an effort to suppress the noises he's pulling from you. logan always knew exactly how to fuck you, how to make you sing out, how to find that perfect angle as he pounds you relentlessly.

he hadn't even needed to knock on your door to invite you out that night, you were already watching him wistfully from your bedroom window as he approached the bike. logan caught your eye and smirked as he jerked his head, signalling for you to come with. and come you did.

"fuck, i'm gonna cum!" you frantically scream, gasping suddenly as you feel the pleasure coil in your gut. it's coming in slow-rising waves, each brush of his cock against your sensitive, spongy g-spot threatening to tip you over the edge.

his hand is over your mouth, muffling your moans as he picks up the pace, his other arm wraps around your thigh, helping his angle and allowing him to push deeper. the bike is really rocking now. brows twitching, he knows he's close too. he often can't help but cum from all the beautiful sounds you make when you're close, and it doesn't help - the way your pussy so desperately clenches around him. you're practically begging him to cum deep inside of you.

"shhhh," he shakes his head, grinning down at you, "that's it. . . that's it, cum for me pretty girl. cum for me nice and quiet, right here, right now, on this bike. cum for me cus' i'm askin' you to, tellin' you to."

his words do nothing to calm the rising tide within you, they spur your orgasm on further. between his filthy, dirty laced demands and his cock plunging deep into your aching walls, you feel yourself coming apart at the seams.

you're screaming beneath his palm as you feel the edge near, and before you know it you're tumbling over it with a loud moan, eyes rolling back. "fuck yes, fuck yes, fuck me - fuck me logan!" is what he'd hear if he moved his hand from your mouth, but his calloused hand stays roughly planted over your lips as you cum. loud. hard.

"oh fuck, shit-" he curses under his breath, feeling your walls flutter around him as you arch your back off the fuel tank, "cum around my cock, that's it, atta' girl."

it's almost too much, the praise, the dirty talk, the way he's making light work of you with his throbbing length. he makes you see stars every time, your eyes rolling back to see the actual stars above you both, the woods filled with the sounds of skin slapping against skin as he shows no signs of slowing down.

you're struggling to keep your eyes open, feeling the orgasm wash over your whole body, a warmth spreading from your groin. it feels so good, and he can tell. he can see it in your eyes as he watches them flutter.

"you're gonna make me cum," logan pants softly into the cool night air, "gonna cum inside that pussy, you want that? hm? want me to fuckin' paint your walls with my cum? gonna be spillin' out the whole ride home."

holy fuck his words. you feel a second orgasm approaching, chasing the end of the first.

he's moaning, grunting as he pumps into you. his thick veins throb against your walls as he feels himself cum, white hot ropes spilling into your begging cunt. his mouth falls open, gasping as your pussy drinks it all up through your second orgasm, taking every last drop just like he knew you would, just as you do every time he takes you out here to fuck you.

logan catches his breath, hunched over you as he sits up, moving a hand to your waist to keep you steady as his other hand runs through his hair. hand slipping from your mouth, he lets it trail down your chest, along your tummy, to rest over your mound. his thumb spreads apart your wet folds before diving in to find your clit.

you gasp, clearly overstimulated from both orgasms. your legs twitch, your whole body shaking slightly as he plays with you. he can't help but smirk at the reaction he can illicit from you just from a few little strokes.

"sensitive," he mutters, thumb dancing across your sensitive bud, "you were such a good girl for me, i gotta train you to be quieter though." logan tilts his head, watching as you squirm beneath him, "can't keep taking you out here just to fuck you, you gotta learn to behave n' keep it down so i can fuck you at the mansion too."

whining, your hand snakes down to join his over your clit, urging him to go slower, and he does.

"though," his smirk widens, "you do look too good like this, spread out for me on this bike, messy and drippin' with my cum." eyes trailing down your body, he admires each and every inch of you. "think i'll keep fuckin' you on it even after you learn to be quiet, i'd have you anywhere. . ."

he leans down, kissing along the valley of your chest, "in my bed. . ." he continues, kissing down along your tummy, "in your bed," he sits up, "in the garden. . ." his thumb on your clit speeds up, causing you to gasp, "anywhere i can have you. i will."

you whimper and he hushes you, "you like the sound of that, princess?" logan nods, "want me to take care of you everywhere? fuck you so hard in that bed of yours where you sit and think about me?"

your cheeks flush a deep red, squirming on the cool metal of the bike. the night air nips at your heated skin.

"thought so," he grins and pulls his hand away from your clit which earns a pathetic whine from you, bringing his thumb to his mouth to lick your sweet, sticky wetness from it.

you watch him with an almost hypnotised look through hooded lids. but he grins, this wasn't over. he wasn't done with you yet.

"let's go home and test just how quiet you can be, hm?"

[ronjunnie]

JENO FIC RECOMMENDATIONS

SERIES

arcane @neonacity

case oasis @neonc1tylights

ONESHOTS

my first and last (m) (37k) @leejenowrld

picture perfect image (35k) @a-cupof-jo

i suddenly realize my archnemesis is hot (during a battle to the death) (22.5k) @choerrypuffs

sunshine (21.3k) @endthedream

shadows in the snow (m) (20k) @jenonctcity

ready for love (19.5k) @jnnul

dream()scape @technologyculturedneo

tongue-tied (17.4k) @starlightkun

summer of love (15.2k) @lattaeyongs

kitchen frolics (14.8k) @radiorenjun

the perks of having a hot best friend (14.3k) @jaeyunverse

Stepping Into The Moonlight (m) (13.3k) @jenonctcity

wicked games (m) (12.8k) @iridesuhnce

nothing in return (12k) @cozyjae

fight club (m) (11.9k) @tyonfs

pupsick (11.8k) sequel (8.8k) @starlightkun

home (m) (11.6k) @byunbaekby

the roommate contract (11.3k) @jaeyunverse

hold fast (11.1k) @kiachiako

summer lovin' (9.8k) @softsichenghours

midnight moon (9k) @jaeminhours

it's yours (m) (6k) @neopuppy

the element of substance (5.2k) @choerrypuffs

lavender haze (3.4k) @springdaybreaks

summer heat and summer swims (m) (3.4k) @hyuckssunchip

for real love (3.1k) @jungnoir

searching for sun, water, and attention (2k) @flashbangstars

sleepy kisses @blu-joons

get smart (m) (1.8k) @glitchfiles

drunken guest and a tail (1.6k) @simpsiren

you wounds wrapped with my love (1.5k) @slytherinshua

rainfall @xrenjunniesx

all night long @writemekpop

TIMESTAMPS

1:34 @kkaebsongtypo

1:37 am @kkaebsongtypo

1:48 am @kkaebsongtypo

2:03 am @kkaebsongtypo

2:54 am @alicanta77

3:00 @radiorenjun

3:16 pm @gyeomsweetgyeom

3:38 am @raspberriesoda

6:44 pm @kkaebsongtypo

7:02 pm @neophele

7:17 am @kkaebsongtypo

7:21 am @ghostofhyuck

9:08 am @kkaebsongtypo

8:41 am @gyeomsweetgyeom

8:57 pm @kkaebsongtypo

10:27 pm @kkaebsongtypo

11:27 @doeilovr

11:38 pm (m) @hyucksong

12:23 @lqfiles

12:40 am @kkaebsongtypo

12:51 am @snapchattingnct

[hyunesent]

: ̗̀➛ A HIDDEN VULNERABILITY

"Tsukishima's whisper sent shivers down your spine, and you couldn't help but melt into the bed. "I could give it to you," he murmured, his words dripping with temptation. "I could give you the best fuck of your life, without any strings attached."

a tsukishima x reader oneshot (afab)

cw: jealous tsukishima, mentions of kageyama and reader, some angst (tsuki doubting himself + relationship troubles), oral sex ( m + f receiving), tsuki is mean at first, rough sex, edging, teasing.

Under the pale luminescence of a waxing moon, Tsukishima Kei stood at the edge of the gymnasium, his golden eyes watching you with an intensity that belied his typically aloof demeanour. 

The cool night air wrapped around him like a shroud, concealing the turmoil that churned within his chest. He was the picture of calm indifference, his tall frame leaning casually against the wall, arms crossed, yet his heart beat a frantic rhythm against his ribcage.

Inside, the gym was alive with the echo of laughter and the rhythmic thud of volleyballs meeting floors. You were there, a radiant presence among his teammates, your smile bright enough to rival the moonlight. As you laughed at something Kageyama said, Tsukishima felt a sharp pang of something unfamiliar-jealousy.

He hated how his stomach twisted when he saw the two of you, hated the way his insecurities gnawed at his resolve.

He bit down on his tongue hard when he saw how close the two of you were, laughing together, closing the proximity between you two. At one point Kageyamas hand had snaked around your waist to gently move you out of the way and Tsukishima had to watch as it loitered there for way too long paired with eye contact that made him murderous.

Tsukishima had always prided himself on his detachment and ability to keep people at arm's length. But you had dismantled his defences with ease. Your kindness, your genuine affection. And now, the fear of losing you to someone more worthy threatened to undo him completely.

The night wore on, and the gym began to empty, the sounds of the game fading into the quiet of the evening. You lingered, still chatting with Kageyama, unaware of the storm brewing in Tsukishima's mind. When you finally noticed him, standing in the shadows, a flicker of concern crossed your face.

"Kei?" you called softly, your voice a gentle soothing to his raw nerves. "Everything okay?"

He hesitated, the words caught in his throat. Vulnerability was a foreign land to him, one he had never willingly ventured into. But tonight, the fear of losing you overpowered his pride. There was a tremor in his gaze, a plea for reassurance.

Tsukishima forced a tight-lipped smile, his facade of aloofness slipping slightly as he replied, "I'm fine. Just tired from practice." The lie tasted bitter on his tongue, but he couldn't bring himself to voice the turmoil swirling within him.

You studied him for a moment, your expression soft with understanding. Tsukishima felt a surge of gratitude towards you, mingled with an ache for something more he couldn't quite name. As you bid Kageyama goodbye and walked over to him, the air between you crackled with unspoken words and unresolved emotions.

As the two of you walked home, there was something different in the way he looked at you. Something dark and possessive. It sent a shiver down your spine, but also a thrill that you couldn't quite explain. His golden eyes held a depth you hadn't seen before as if he was trying to convey a message without words. The hostility in his tone lingered, intensifying the breeze rustling the leaves overhead.

Eventually, a heavy silence stretched between you. Tsukishima's usual aloofness was tinged with an undercurrent of something primal, something raw that made your heart race

As you approached his apartment building. The click of the key in the lock echoed through the empty hallway, a stark contrast to the charged atmosphere between you. Tsukishima led the way inside, his footsteps purposeful and unwavering. The silence enveloped you both like a heavy cloak, suffocating any attempts at conversation.

You watched as he shrugged off his jacket, the fabric falling to the floor in a haphazard heap. Without sparing you a glance, he made a beeline for the bathroom, his movements swift and controlled. The sound of running water soon filled the air, a sharp reminder of the distance between you.

Confusion and tension wrapped around you like invisible chains. Tsukishima's sudden change in demeanour had thrown you off balance, leaving you grasping for some semblance of understanding. The way he seemed to be wrestling with his inner demons made your heart ache with a mixture of sympathy and fear.

You stood in the dimly lit living room, uncertain of what to do next. The seconds stretched into minutes as you waited, the sound of the running water creating a dissonant background to the turmoil brewing within you. His apartment felt unfamiliar now, shadows lurking in every corner where there used to be only familiarity. You sinked face. first onto his bed and struggled to look up to rest your face between your hands.

Your mind was running a mile a minute overthinking every interaction you had with him today, desperate to know what was wrong.

Minutes passed in a suspended state of uncertainty, each tick of the clock echoing loudly in your ears. The water from the shower continued its steady rhythm, a barrier separating you from Tsukishima. You debated whether to stay or leave, unsure of where you stood with him at that moment.

As you tried to gather your thoughts, the door to the bathroom creaked open, and Tsukishima emerged His hair was damp and tousled, strands sticking to his forehead while his shirt fit in a way that allowed his collarbone to peer through.

Suddenly, Tsukishima was behind you, his breath fanning the top of your head. You could feel the heat radiating off his body as he reached out his hands to slide them against your waist, you gasped softly at the new touch. Your heart pounded in your chest, the moment stretching taut between you like a drawn bowstring.

“What was that with Kageyama?” Tsukishima murmured, his voice low and gravelly, you felt a sharp stab of remorse upon hearing the pain in his voice. The weight of his words hung heavy in the air, sending a jolt of anticipation through you. His lips traced barely-there kisses along your neck and shoulder. Starkly contrasting the form grip he now had on your hips, igniting a trail of tingling warmth in its wake.

You remembered the closeness between you and your boyfriend’s teammate and you hoped that he had interpreted the situation differently. Taking a deep breath, you turned to face him. The expression in his eyes was undeniably dark and hard, and you could understand why.

"Kei, I’m sorry," you said, stammering. "I didn't mean to—I just got—"

"Swept up in the moment?" Tsukishima interrupted with a sneer. "Come on. Did you really believe I'd accept that excuse?"

Without another word, Tsukishima gently wrapped his arms around your body, his gentleness confusing yet comforting given the situation. He turned you around onto your back and looked into your eyes with a now unreadable expression.

His presence loomed over you, a dark cloud suffocating any sense of self-control. You were nothing but a puppet in his hands, helplessly succumbing to his every whim and desire.

“I know you better than anyone y/n” he reminded you with his lips ghosting against yours. He pulled back with a smirk when you chased them and opted to press his thumb to your bottom lip.

You lean forward slightly to take it between your lips sucking it gently as Tsukishimas gaze becomes more intense. His other hand trails down your front, stopping just above where you needed him most and you can see the anticipation written all over his face. He pressed down gently eliciting a sinful whine from you.

Your tongue swirls around his thumb, tasting the faint saltiness of his skin, watching in fascination as he fought to maintain his composure by closing his eyes.

They snap open with a new drive as he removes his hands from you only returning them to press his fingers against your clothed cunt. Already desperate you moan out craving more from him and he settles between your legs to pull you in for a heated kiss.

You kiss him back matching his intensity and exploring each other’s tongues, his lips are soft and demanding against yours, his hands roaming your body with a heat that sets your skin on fire. Your fingers tangle in his hair, relishing the feeling of his short strands against your skin. You felt lightheaded and being able to feel his hardening erection against your pussy with only thin material between the two didn’t help.

His hand sneaks up to wrap his slender fingers around your throat applying just the right amount of pressure to the sides.

Your eyes screw shut as he turns your head to the side, giving him full access to the expanse of your neck. His lips part slightly to trail his tongue tantalizingly slow up the side of your neck finishing with a kiss to your most sensitive spot while grinding his cock onto your pussy, every movement calculated to elicit pleasure and desire from you.

Your legs instinctively spread wider needing more from him so you plea with a moan:

“Fuck Kei, I want you so bad.” Those words came out more breathless than you intended but he lacked the amusement he would usually have.

“No, you don’t.” He rolls his hips into yours again, harder this time. “You want someone else.”

Tsukishima couldn’t even bring himself to say the other man’s name and the conflict was evident in his gaze as he groped at your chest. Even though he was behaving in a certain way, his underlying insecurities were still palpable. After the events that occurred earlier, these feelings seemed to have heightened and become more prominent.

You struggled to form coherent sentences as Tsukishima kept stimulating you. You were hot and bothered and you felt distant from the man on top of you despite your proximity.

Tsukishima's whisper sent shivers down your spine, and you couldn't help but melt into the bed. "I could give it to you," he murmured, his words dripping with temptation. "I could give you the best fuck of your life, without any strings attached. You could leave and go to him right now." You didn’t know whether to moan or cry at his sheer lack of emotion when stating his offer.

But what you did know is that you didn't want anyone else. "No," you whimpered, grasping onto Tsukishima's arm. "Please, I only want you. It's always been you."

Tsukishima's rough hand slips into your pants, his fingers moving expertly as he searches for your slick heat. Faint streaks of wetness cling to his skin as he pulls his hand back and messily spreads your arousal over your lower stomach.

Tsukishima's fingers are cool against your heated skin, his touch sending shivers through your body. As he spreads your slick over your folds as well, fingers brushing over your clit, you feel a jolt of pleasure shoot through you, causing your body to arch and writhe beneath him.

“I bet he doesnt know how messy and rough you like it when we fuck.” His fingers are focused on your clit now and you’re a moaning mess.

“Think he could make you moan like this?” he coos at you “I’m barely touching you”

“Kei! Please—”

“But really, it’s up to you,” Tsukishima said nonchalantly, smirking a bit as he spread your pussy lips open, hearing you moan. “maybe he’s better than me,”

“I’m not going anywhere, Kei,” you begged, nearly crying. “I’m yours, I promise!”

“Promise?” his tone was now soft as he tilted your chin down to search your eyes for sincerity.

“Yes!” You reached out to tangle your fingers in his hair.

Tsukishima let his eyes flutter close for a moment and melted into your touch. When he opened them again he collected you in his arms tenderly and then through you onto the covers the way he wanted you, pinning you down your head on the pillows.

"Good girl," he murmured, pulling down your pants and soaked underwear. He then traced his tongue up your slit, making you gasp with pleasure."

From this point on tsukishima was not gentle and showed you no mercy, devouring your pussy like a starved man focused solely on your pleasure. With every lick and suck, he dialled up the intensity, using his tongue in ways that had you panting and moaning with each thrust.

He went deeper, his rough tongue darting inside you, hitting your G-spot just right, making your back arch off the bed, your hands gripping the sheets in a vice-like hold. His lips were soft, but his tongue was a force to be reckoned with, flicking, teasing, and exploring your most sensitive spots.

You were a mess now, your entire body trembling with pleasure, your breath coming in short gasps as you begged for more.

And so you gave in, desperately clinging to him, writhing beneath him with each thrust and lick. The world was reduced to that one moment, that one sensation. You no longer thought about the other man, the one who had caused this turmoil within you. All that mattered was Tsukishima, his skilful touch, and the way he made you feel.

Your eyes scrunched shut once more as he placed his hand on your chest, his thumb gently grazing your nipple. He knew all of your sensitive spots, your weak points.

“Don't stop! I’m—”

Before you could even finish he pulls away, expressionless, lower face covered in your slick. You whine and lift your hips off the bed but you can’t deny your arousal heightening at the sight of him.

Without saying a word he taps the outside of your leg while kissing your inner thigh signalling for you to get up. He chuckles when he notices you struggling slightly but you manage to crawl towards him nevertheless and push his shirt off. He looks down at you with an admiring smile and responds immediately, pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it aside, along with his boxers.

Her eyes grew wide at the sight of his length: rock hard and already dripping. You marvel at him in awe while he’s attentively watching your expression.

“Looks like someone wants me bad,” Tsukishima purred, leisurely stroking his length as his eyes watched you carefully, challenging you to make a move.

His constant teasing had finally reached its limit, and you were determined to get back at him. You sat up and crawled over to him, where you slapped his hand away from his length, taking control with your own hand.

Tsukishima inhaled sharply, tilting his head back, but he immediately brought it back down, not wanting to take his eyes off of you.

"Faster," he demanded, his voice strained. 

You hurried your hand up and down his length, occasionally grazing your thumb over the tip and relishing in the sounds of pleasure that escaped him. When you noticed his fists clenching the sheets, turning white with tension, you knew he was close. So without hesitation, you did what came naturally to you.

He groaned and swore as you took all of him into your mouth. Tsukishima's body shuddered as you slowly moved your head up and down, maintaining eye contact with him. Suddenly, he grabbed a handful of your hair and forcefully pushed your head down, making you take all of him in at once.

You choked and gasped for air, and it seemed like your body was reacting in his favour – the tightness in his stomach began to loosen, and he was on the brink of losing control. He repeated your name like a mantra as if pleading to anyone listening.

Before he could give in to his desires, he suddenly snapped out of it and pulled you off him. You trembled with anticipation as Tsukishima's expression turned into one filled with pure lust. He manoeuvred you around, forcing you onto your hands and knees.

He stood behind you, leaning in close to whisper in your ear. "I'm going to make you feel so good," he breathed, his words sending shivers down your spine. You let out a moan, unable to resist his dirty talk. It was always a turn-on for you.

You feel your breath hitch at his weight shifting on the bed before you feel his cock against your glistening opening.

He uses his top to spread your slick around and gently pushes your legs wider. He begins to push into you struggling at first.

“shit- baby relax.” he hisses and leans forward to kiss your shoulder and hold you tenderly for a moment, relieving some of your tension.

You feel his soft lips part on your shoulder as he pushes his length into you slowly letting you feel every vein against your walls.

Once he was fully inside you, he pulled out almost entirely, a slow, teasing motion that left you yearning for more. Then, he began to thrust, creating a rhythm that left both of you gasping for air. 

You’re moaning load so he pushes your head into the pillow, the new position allowing him to thrust deeper causing you to let out a muffled scream.

He groaned and picked up the pace, his hips slapping against your ass. You were lost in the moment, feeling his cock deep inside you, and the passion between you growing with every thrust.

Tsukishima groaned, his hands tightening on your hips as he felt the pleasure building within him. His cock slammed against your G-spot with each brutal stroke, sending waves of ecstasy through you both.

You were panting now, your body trembling with the intensity of the sensation. You felt his hands digging into your flesh, possessive and needy, driving you wild.

“Oh god, Kei! Right there, just like that!” you cried out, cupping at your slick, needy mound.

Tsukishima slapped your hand away, replacing it with his own as he messily stimulated your clit. He pounded into you harder, his cock swelling with each thrust, you could feel the build-up of his climax.

"I'm going to cum, baby," he growled, his voice low and thick. "You want my cum, don't you?"

You nodded vigorously, looking back with eyes wide with desire. He smirked, his gaze locked on yours, and then he began to thrust even faster. Your screams filled the room as he hit your sweet spot over and over again.

With one final thrust, Tsukishima whispered your name, releasing a torrent of intensity within you, bringing your climax crashing down upon you. Your body shook with pure bliss, every nerve ending ignited by his touch.

He collapsed on top of you for a moment, his breath ragged as he tried to catch his breath. You wrapped your arms around him, pulling him close, feeling both relieved and exhilarated.

Slowly, he pulled away, leaving a kiss on your forehead, before helping you to lie down on the bed in a more comfortable position. The afterglow was just as intense as the passion, leaving an unspoken comfort between you. You opened your eyes, to see Tsukishima’s golden ones staring right back at you.

You reached out to brush the wet strands of hair from his forehead and he sighed softly pulling you closer to him. The two of you shared tender kisses and he looked up at you with a flash of raw vulnerability.

“You’re mine. No one else’s.” he rasped.

You nodded in agreement causing you both to crack smiles before you kissed his cheek softly and held him as he fell asleep almost instantly.

You observed him as he slept; it was during these vulnerable moments that you were reminded of the gentleness that always resided within him, hidden beneath his tough facade. You lightly traced the line of his jaw, completely enamoured with him.

𝘼𝙪𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙧𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚: This is a work of fiction not a portrayal of anyone in real life. this was supposed to be much shorter but I got carried away lol. This is not proofread so I'm sorry for any mistakes! Likes and reblogs are welcome and appreciated. Happy reading .ᐟ

[endless-ineffabilities]

eclipsed (Aemond Targaryen x f!reader)

You loved him. He didn't feel the same. Until everything changed – but is it too late?

main masterlist ▪︎ word count: 1.7k

a/n: I envisioned modern Aemond as I was writing this. Also, the usual taglist is sadly not included for this spontaneous oneshot. I trust that the angst will find you if it's meant to be!

Aemond Targaryen was once everything to you. 

Your guiding light. Your sun and your stars. You knew you had a heart, you knew it was beating true, because it worshipped him with such a ferocity that would put a devotee to shame. Nothing and no else compared. You would have been content to simply exist in his orbit, to watch as he lived and loved.

He loved you too. You knew that. But as a brother loved a sister, as a friend loved a friend. 

And all kinds of love were meant to appear dim and pale in comparison to what he felt for Alys.

He doted on her. She was everything to him. She was his guiding light, his sun and stars. You could never compare. 

It was an unbearable truth, one you had tried for too long to ignore, but there came a time when you reached your breaking point. One evening, you asked to meet him. You knew you were about to ask for so much more – you were asking for something he could never offer.

You were asking to be seen. 

You could no longer sit idly by, watching the sun shine on the world while the moon was left in the shadows.

When you confessed, his reaction was as callous as it was predictable. Aemond laughed in disbelief, as though your words were at the end of some punchline. “Okay,” he said dismissively, “I love you too.”

“No.” You shook your head, looking away. You had to bite your lip to keep the tears from falling. “I love you, Aemond.”

“Yes, I know,” he smiled, taking a step closer, grimacing when you put your hands up to stop him from reaching out for you.

“I’m in love with you.” You had to take a deep breath before you continued. “I love you. Maybe you knew all along. Maybe you didn’t. But you have to know that.”

There it was, suspended in the atmosphere between the two of you, before the inevitable crash and crumble. 

“I don’t get it, darling.” He exhaled roughly, as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You love me?”

“What don’t you get?” Your voice came out sharper than intended, but you couldn’t be anything but honest. 

“I… this is… but you’re like a sister to me!” 

“Oh, fuck off, Aemond.” You waved his words away, trying to dampen just how brutal they stung. Just how much they cut deep. 

“Well, then,” he sneered, his eyes darkening with a defensive anger. “Thanks for that.”

“Is that…” You met his eyes once more, that heart-wrenching shade of blue. “Do you have anything else to say?”

His gaze hardened. “I’m with Alys.”

“I know that.”

“I love Alys.” He spat the words out like they were meant to be a scolding. Didn’t you know this? What exactly were you expecting from him? That he would cry and take you in his arms? I love you too… I love you too… I always have…

“I know that too.” The first bitter tear fell down your cheek. You inhaled sharply, wiping at your face with the back of your sleeve. You began pacing in an attempt to get a hold of your nerves. You did not want to have a complete breakdown in front of him. But then again, the worst has already happened. How much more humiliation could there possibly be?

“I’m sorry, darling.” His voice softened as he reached for you again, and this time, when you resisted, he simply caught your arms gently and pulled you against him. “Truly, I am. You have no idea.”

He held you, however long you needed to be held. He was good like that, he always has been. But it felt like a cruel comfort – mere scraps of affection when you wanted the entire feast. 

“I do love you, you know,” he murmured into your hair, his voice soothing as it broke your heart anew. “Always, I promise.”

And he did. 

But it was never going to be enough.

You were the moon to his sun, forever watching from a distance, knowing you would never truly share the same sky.

Aemond rarely saw you after that night. A week passed, then two, then a month. The silence between you stretched longer than he had expected, but still he thought nothing of it. Perhaps you were simply giving each other space, allowing the awkwardness to settle.

But then, when he tried seeking you out, there were no responses. He found out from a mutual friend that you had moved to another region. There was a promising work opportunity, apparently, one that had been too good to pass up.

You just conveniently failed to mention this to him. 

You drifted from his life without warning, and Aemond was not prepared for how deeply it would hurt. How lost he would feel. He was out of orbit, reeling, mourning the ghost of someone who still lived, but seemingly no longer wanted anything to do with him.

Alys was not blind to it. But there was nothing she could do. She could only watch as Aemond’s light began to dim, gradually fading until it barely reached her. She had no choice but to stand by as he became a hollow version of the man whom she thought loved her so fiercely.

An entire year passed before Aemond saw you again. 

It happened by chance, or perhaps some cruel twist of fate. You were there, with your adorable flushed cheeks and smile as bright as the sun. He did not know what to expect, but there you were, hugging him like the long lost friend he had become.

You looked better than ever, while he was barely getting by. 

“You look like you could use some sun, Aem,” you remarked lightheartedly, noticing how pale he got. “I can’t believe it’s been so long.”

You appeared carefree, but all Aemond could feel was the weight of the past year pressing down on him. 

“You left me,” he spat out before he could help himself. It sounded like an accusation, like a wound that never healed. How could you?

“I did leave, yes,” you say tentatively, confused by the venom in his tone. “But I don’t think I left you.”

“What would you call it then?” His tone was bitter, bordering on desperate. 

“I moved away,” you shrugged. “It happens. Friends move away, they move on.”

“You weren’t supposed to,” he muttered. His hands clenched at his sides when what he truly wanted was to reach for you.  

“I had to,” you replied, your voice quieter. “It was the only way.” 

Aemond frowned, his gaze fixed on your face, searching for something he couldn’t quite name. "The only way for what?"

You spoke again, slower, “It was the only way to get over you.”

He was hanging by a thread, and right then, he became untethered.

“I loved you, Aemond,” you continued. “And I couldn’t just stay there and watch you be in love with someone else. I’m sorry, but I had to leave. It was the only thing I could do to save myself.”

Your words hit him like a blow. He stared at you, the one who had been everything to him once – his anchor, his confidante, the one constant in his life. If only he hadn’t been too goddamn stupid to realise it then.

You reached over and squeezed his hand. He looked down and without thinking, he interlaced his fingers with yours. He felt you hesitate for a moment – a brief second where you considered pulling away – before you gave in.

The old you wouldn’t have given it a second thought. The old you would have held onto Aemond with everything you had, believing that if you just stayed close enough, he’d realise what was right in front of him.

But you were different now. Everything was different – no sunshine, just grey – because you said that you loved him.

Loved. Not anymore.

The roles were reversed, and maybe he deserved it. The bitter irony wasn’t lost on him as you pulled your hand away, offering him a soft, understanding smile. 

“And Alys?” you asked suddenly, your voice gentle but curious. "How is she?”

He stiffened. A part of him thought that staying with Alys was his path forward, the thing that would make sense of the chaos in his life. But it hadn’t. Not really. 

“We’re not together anymore,” Aemond finally admitted.

You blinked, visibly surprised. “Oh. I’m… I’m so sorry, Aemond. I didn’t know.”

He let out a bitter chuckle, shaking his head. “There’s nothing to be sorry about. It wasn’t… meant to be.”

You studied him, your brows furrowing in concern. “Even so, I know it’s hard,” you said softly, your voice full of empathy. “Breakups are… They’re never easy. But there’s someone out there for everyone. I truly believe that. I mean… I found someone, didn’t I?”

His entire body tensed, his breath hitching as his mind tried to process the full weight of your statement. You had found someone. You had moved on. There was the proof, hitting him right in the face. 

He had lost you. For good.

“You… found someone,” he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper, as if saying it out loud would somehow make it more real.

“Yes. I did.” There was a tenderness in your voice, but it only twisted the knife deeper. “He’s wonderful, Aemond. He’s kind, supportive. I didn’t think I’d find something like this after – ” you paused, glancing away for a moment before meeting his gaze again, “after everything.”

“Are you in love?” The words came out before he could stop them, his voice tight with something like despair. He hated himself for asking, for needing to know, but the question was out there now, and he couldn’t take it back.

“Aemond.”

“Can you tell me this, at least? Do you… love him?”

There was a long pause, as if you were choosing your words carefully, and when you finally spoke, the answer was clear. “More than anything.”

You had become someone else’s sun. Someone else’s guiding light.

And he was the moon, forced to watch and drift in shadow. 

For the first time in his life, Aemond Targaryen understood what it meant to lose everything.

[m-rshy]

a fear like no other | azriel x reader

pairing: azriel x reader

summary: azriel never believed he was worthy enough for a mating bond. so when it suddenly snaps for him, he doesn't quite know what to do.

word count: 1,076

a/n: another lil oneshot :) a bit of angst if you squint, but overall fluff

Azriel had felt fear before. He'd felt it while living his father's keep. He'd felt it when his hands were set ablaze—when the pain of the embers had twisted and morphed onto his skin, leaving a permanent scar to forever remind him of that day. He'd felt it when his wings were nearly destroyed by one of Hybern's naga-hounds. He'd felt it most of all when Rhys' life had vanished right before his eyes.

Fear. It was a feeling that no one particularly enjoyed, and for Azriel, the sense of uncontrollability was what he hated most about it. He'd felt it in a number of shapes, sizes, and forms, but this particular sort of fear... it was new and indecipherable.

He didn't know which was most frightening—the fact that you'd come into his life so quickly, like a fierce gust of wind; or that dreaded feeling of hopelessness that would wash over him whenever he thought of you.

The mating bond had snapped in place immediately, and he had barely enough time to process it before his eyes met yours. He'd never seen you before, but in that moment, it was as if he'd known you for his entire existence.

Your eyes were wide and curious as you looked at him, and he'd frozen. Everything within him had paralysed, and as soon as your scent reached him, he had turned around and stalked in the opposite direction. He'd cursed himself the entire way back to the House of Wind, his mind replaying the scene over and over again, thinking of the what-ifs.

—

He'd been on edge since that encounter in the streets of Velaris, and everything in him was screaming to go back and find you. But he couldn't—he couldn't do that to you, a complete stranger. How could he be sure that you wanted the bond? Had you even felt it that day? Had you experienced that same rush of adrenaline, and that sudden warmth in your chest that was so lovely yet so alarming all at the same time?

One glimpse at you was enough to know that you were nothing like him, and he didn't have the heart to drag you into a life tainted by bloodshed and violence. Even if it killed him inside, perhaps it was the best idea to leave things as they were—as they had been for the past 500 years and more.

Though, just because he'd decided not to see you, that didn't mean he had to forbid himself entirely from the market squares, right?

—

You were closing up shop when he saw you for the second time. The city of Velaris shone brightly, illuminated by countless lights—the moon, the stars, and the shopfronts all played their part in giving Velaris the nickname 'The City of Starlight'.

The nights were particularly colder this time of year, but when he saw you in the distance, that familiar warmth settled in his chest. As if sensing his presence, your eyes snapped to him, and he almost wanted to vanish again.

He'd made a point to avoid the area he saw you last, so how was it that you were before him again? Your eyes held that same curiosity from last time, and when you spoke, he thought he'd come undone.

"Hello."

It was such a simple word. So, so simple, and yet it was enough to make him feel weak in the knees. Azriel's shadows darted toward you, coiling around your wrists and travelling through the strands of your hair. He was horrified with himself, but you were laughing. You were laughing.

It was like a melody sweeter than any honey he'd ever had the pleasure of tasting, and he couldn't stop himself from smiling at the sound. He cleared his throat, finally finding his tongue. "I'm sorry about them," he said lowly. "They can be... spontaneous at times."

"That's alright," you replied. "I think they're sweet."

Sweet. He'd been described as many words before, but sweet had never been one of them. He observed his shadows as they navigated your figure, as if mapping out every detail they could find. Your skin was near flawless—nothing like his, littered with scars he wished he could let go of.

"They seem rather eager to meet me, unlike a certain somebody who disappeared as soon as he saw me," you said teasingly.

He winced. "I wanted to apologise for that—"

"You don't have to." You waved your hand, the shadows moving away at the motion, but immediately returning to caress your skin. "It's daunting, having something so sacred and special snap between you and a total stranger."

"Well, we don't have to be total strangers, if you'd like," Azriel said, and he felt his palms go sweaty at the way your eyes seemed to shine at his offer.

"Yes, I'd like that." You smiled. "I'd like that a lot."

—

Azriel had never thought that he could be so entranced by a singular faerie. One smile, one glance, one touch, and he was no longer the powerful Illyrian warrior he believed himself to be.

Seeing you was the highlight of his week—of his life—and he couldn't believe that he had seriously thought of depriving himself of your presence.

Yet, as he looked down at you walking along the Sidra beside him, a part of him still didn't wholeheartedly believe he deserved this. You were a direct comparison of everything he was, and still you'd chosen to accept the bond. It had been in that moment, when you'd placed a meal cooked just for him on his table, that he knew he loved you.

"Azriel?"

Your voice snapped him out of his thoughts, and he realised he'd been staring at you for a little longer than he'd planned. Your head was tilted to the side, and your lips were curved into the smile he'd committed to memory.

"You seem out of it," you said. "We can stop to take a break if you need."

He was quick to reassure you, "No, no, that's not necessary."

"What's on your mind, then?"

"Nothing of importance, my love. Just thinking about how lucky I am."

He placed his hands on your hips and kissed you then—a gentle kiss that he hoped was enough to convey the love and adoration he harboured for you.

You beamed at him, and he wondered to himself, how had he ever been afraid?

[imthesilentwriter]

Of Crushes and Comfort

Harry Potter x Wolfstar!Daughter!Reader

Summary: You talk to Lily about something very, very personal – your feelings. More specifically, the feelings that you may or may not have towards her son.

Warnings: none, just fluff and comfort. (Let me know if there is more that I have forgotten)

Authors Note: To be honest, this isn’t very good. I suck at dialogue, and I didn’t really know what to write. However, this idea just got stuck in my head, and it’s kind of inspired by this drabble written by @myjealouseyes. In saying this, I hope you enjoy this little oneshot.

Word Count: 1147

Navigation | Masterlist

“Can I ask you something?”

Those were the first words that tumbled out of your mouth this morning. It was early, the sun barely risen, casting long shadows across the kitchen. But here you were, sitting at the kitchen table while Lily gently sat across from you, her attention fully on you. The room was quiet, except for the faint chirping of birds outside and the sound of water boiling for tea.

Your fingers rhythmically tapped against the teacup you were holding — your leg bouncing up and down anxiously. Lily could tell, she always could, when something was worrying you. At first, she might have chalked it up to the fact that it was just after a full moon. You always worry about your father, Remus, during the nights you spend at the Potters', and of course, the morning after. But she could see it wasn’t that.

“Of course, dear,” her kind, yet tired eyes oozed love, “what seems to be troubling you?”

That’s the thing, though. You didn’t know whether or not you could tell her what was troubling you. You shifted slightly in your seat, looking anywhere other than her green eyes, which unfortunately reminded you of what was troubling you.

Your gaze drifted outside towards the trees. Somewhere within them was the old treehouse you and Harry had begged for when you were around four. James and Sirius, of course, couldn't deny such a request. Lily had once teased them that you and Harry had them wrapped around your little fingers. Naturally, they denied it, but everyone knew it was true.

“You know,” Lily softly said, her voice grazing your ears, drawing your attention back to her. “You don’t have to tell me anything,” she said gently, “but you and I both know what it’s about.”

You blushed slightly at her words. A gentle smile graced her lips as she brought her tea to her mouth, her eyes conveying everything. She knew. But how could she know?

Your expression must have given you away, because she chuckled sincerely. That was another thing that reminded you of… him. He had inherited her chuckle — that warm, comforting sound, with just a hint of teasing.

“I see the way you look at him,” she continued, setting her tea down. “I can see it in your eyes.” Her smile widened as she studied you, her gaze both soft and knowing.

The fidgeting that had overtaken you ceased, but your cheeks heated up more violently. It felt like you had just been caught stealing from the cookie jar, sitting there under her non-judgmental gaze. Despite yourself, you relaxed slightly at the thought.

A weak breath escaped your lips, and the tension in your shoulders dropped. You turned your eyes back to Lily. “How did you know?” The question slipped out before you could stop it.

She let out a breathless chuckle at the question — not judging, just amused. “A mother’s intuition, I suppose.”

You nodded cautiously, the two of you falling back into silence. Your gaze returned outside, to stare at the trees. After a while, you broke the quiet with another question. “Do you think my fathers' know?”

Now, that really got a laugh out of her. She met your eyes with a playful look. “What do you think?” she teased, and soon you were both laughing, the sound lightening the air between you.

But as the laughter faded, the anxiety crawled back up your spine, making you shift in your chair again. Lily seemed to notice and shifted her own seat closer. “Boys can be oblivious,” she started, “but you don’t have anything to worry about. I highly doubt your fathers would figure out what I figured out.”

You nodded at her words. It was true; you doubted your fathers would figure anything out — especially your father, Sirius, who could be painfully oblivious. Then again, could he be that oblivious?

“Do you think…” you began, stopping momentarily to choose your words carefully, “do you think that… that maybe…”

“…that maybe Harry has figured out you like him?” she finished for you. You froze, taken aback. You hadn’t expected her to say that. Stunned, you just nodded.

Lily sighed briefly before regaining herself. She shook her head, “No, not yet, but…” she trailed off, giving you a knowing look. You looked away after that, a wave of heat rushing to your cheeks. Silence embraced you both, as you sat lost in your own thoughts.

“I just don’t know if what I’m feeling is how you’re meant to feel, you know?” you confessed, catching her off guard for a moment before she composed herself again. “What do you mean?” she questioned in return.

You sighed heavily, gathering your thoughts. “It’s just… I don’t understand how you can tell if you like someone,” you admitted. Then, a thought struck you. “How did you know you had feelings for James?”

She pondered for a moment, her eyes growing distant with memory. “Well, I remember feeling this weird fluttering sensation in my stomach whenever I looked at him.” She paused, smiling. “At first, I honestly thought I was starting to get sick,” she added with a laugh, and you giggled in response. "And then there was the nervous feeling I’d get when he was around."

You nodded, understanding that feeling all too well. "And I thought to myself, ‘Why are you nervous, Lily? He's the biggest jerk you've ever met.’” You laughed harder at that, and her smile deepened. "And every time our hands slightly brushed, it felt like my heart was going to explode or try to run out of my chest."

She paused again, looking at you with warmth. “And that’s when I realized, I had feelings for him.”

You breathed in, nodding, trying to absorb her words. Smiling, you realized you felt those same things about Harry. Whenever he talked to you, hugged you, or made you laugh — those nervous feelings always came rushing in.

Lily noticed your thoughtful expression and reached across the table, placing her hand over yours. Her touch was gentle, comforting. "Listen," she said softly, "why don't we take a walk later? Clear our heads a bit? It's beautiful outside, and I think some fresh air would do us both some good."

You blinked, surprised but grateful for the offer. "I'd like that," you admitted, feeling a little lighter already at the thought.

She smiled, standing up to pour more tea into her cup. "And remember," she added over her shoulder, "whatever happens, you have people who love you — no matter what."

A small smile tugged at your lips. “Thanks, Lily,” you said quietly.

Lily nodded, returning to her seat. “Anytime, dear. Anytime.”

Your gaze drifted once more to the trees outside. Even if you hadn’t talked about everything, you felt a weight lift off your chest. For now, there was calm. Until next time.

[aixeko]

──────‹𝟹 SINNERS SAVAGERY ༄ Ѽ✧

IF I'M YOUR SALVATION, WELCOME TO HELL.

2024 Halloween Event | Art credit: Efferwescent on Twitter

𖤐 SINNERS SAVAGERY | or ERISETOBER  is an event that is a mix of Kinktober, Whumptober and Flufftober in a nutshell SMUT, ANGST & FLUFF with Halloween aspects. All prompts are made by me but some of the ones that inspired me are whumptober ofc, and this list. 

𖤐 ONLY HONKAI STAR RAIL AND GENSHIN WOMEN For this year

𖤐 This will be my first time doing the October prompts stuff + I have another event going on so bare with me haha.

𖤐 !! WEEK 1 starts 6 to 13 !! !! WEEK 2 starts 13 to 19 !! !! WEEK 3 starts 20 to 26 !! !! WEEK 4 starts 27 to 31 !!

WEEK 1 | MONSTER AU | | ONESHOT

| Film | TILL DEATH DO US PART | Starring | Kafka as alien symbiote “Venom” x Host!Reader  | Synopsis | A livelihood ripped away by the greed of humankind and faced with impending doom, an alien symbiote by the name of "Kafka" entered your life and made you her host. Originally, the monstrous being harbored one goal: to destroy everything planet Earth had to offer, but plans changed upon meeting you and thus, with her power, you both do whatever it takes to save the planet. Loathing was all that was bestowed toward the extraterrestrial parasitic, but as time passes, a long-lost feeling resurfaces, one that hasn't manifested since your heartbreak; of course, you would rather be brutally killed than confess your endearment. Unbeknownst to you, the woman has suspected you of such intimacy and, with her incredible adaptability to the complex human emotion, has a ploy to make you profess those three special words.

| Film | YOUR LORDSHIP | Starring | Yelan as Leviathan x Mortal!Reader | Synopsis |  When the tempestuous waves crash against the shore and the sky turns a foreboding grey, human shells cower in fear as the mighty lord of the seas, Leviathan, awakens from the darkest pit of the deep, seeking for a human companion to aid her lonely voyage.

WEEK 2 | MYTHOLOGICAL AU | | ONESHOT

| Film | BEYOND THE IMAGINABLE | Starring | Clorinde as Medusa x Blind!Reader | Synopsis | Despised and misunderstood by the world, she was a victim of a scandalous man's wrongdoing, unfairly punished by heaven despite her innocence. During one fortunate day, the woman whose heart had turned to stone melt under the accursed spell of love, wholly captivated by a blind mortal who fell in love with her for who she truly was; even without sight, the virtuous human saw the very essence of her, the beauty within her soul.

| Film | OFFERING OF PURITY | Starring | Raiden Ei as Hades x Mortal!Reader | Synopsis | The townsfolk tell tales of a legend that speaks of how, once in a century, the moon would adorn itself in a deep crimson hue and illuminate its shade onto the world. Under its wrathful light, the god of hell emerges to wreak havoc, and the only way to banish such evil is to offer a youthful virgin mortal; only then will humankind live in another century of prosperity and peace.

WEEK 3 | ANIMATRONICS AU | | SMUTSHOT

| Film | FIVE NIGHTS AT STAR RAIL | Starring | Kafka, Himeko, Blackswan, and Acheron as the FNAF Classic Animatronics x Night-guard!Reader | Synopsis | A newspaper arrives at your doorstep, featuring a job opening for a night guard position at the famous Star Rail Pizzeria. Struggling financially, you quickly seize the golden opportunity. The job's only requirement is 5 nights of work, and if you succeed, you'll be hired as an official employee; what could possibly go wrong?

WEEK 4 | SLASHER/SERIAL KILLER AU

| Film | MINDFUCK | Starring | Slasher!Arlecchino x Investigative-Psychologist!Reader | Synopsis | Demons linger where shadows play; in silence, hearts betray, whispers echo, and desires catch fire in the haunting depths of the night. With every kiss, a scythe may cut, in which terror envelops one's gut; together they dance on the edge of fate, finding beauty in a love that is too late. So let the night weave its spell, for in the dark they know so well, and though demons are whispering fright, in their twilight, the lights are ignited.

[huramuna]

firehaired, lavendereyed -- oneshot.

mean prince regent aemond x pregnant wife reader

a sequel to stoatfaced, dragonhearted. it can be read as a standalone, though! its not as dark or mean as the first one and is (kinda) fluffy. thank you @echos-muses for inspiring this!

word count: 2.5k

@huramuna-fics -- follow & turn on notifications for just my fic postings!

content: smut (specifics below cut), angst, fluffy, meanish aemond, prob unhealthy relationship, emotionally constipated aemond experiences emotions, reader is described w/ auburn hair, no use of y/n, not beta read, i literally went into a haze writing this there are probably mistakes, pregnancy

cloudbusting - kate bush • i bet on losing dogs - mitski

warnings: oral (f receiving), p in v, talks of choking and biting but its not in this fic, BREEDING KINK

Being the wife of a prince, a prince-regent no less, always felt like an honor. People would bow at you in the corridors, maids would bring you your favorite sweets without asking, courtiers would invite you to countless luncheons and extravagant events. It made you wonder, though– was it out of respect for your station– or out of fear for your husband? 

He was constantly your shadow now, insisting on being with you at every waking moment ever since the maesters confirmed your pregnancy. His hand would constantly be guiding you on the middle of your back, towards whatever destination you were off to. He would insist you eat more for the babe, would rub your feet and prop pillows behind your back when you both retired for the day. 

As he shepherded you into the throne room, he glanced at the courtesans and sworn lords alike– he had worn the crown since his brother fell from the sky in flames, burnt and scarred. He melded into the role like he was meant for it, as you so told him. 

‘It looks better on you than it ever did on him, husband.’

‘Careful now, dear wife. That sounds treasonous, does it not?’

It wasn’t hard to spur him on into a feral state of being lately, as he adored your body filling out, belly stretching, breasts growing as you carried his child. His, his. He was still cold, in his way, of course– that would be something you would never pull him out of.

‘Husband?’ you had mewled softly as you came back from the maester’s chambers after receiving the news. 

Aemond was sitting on the loveseat in front of the fire, one hand parting the pages of a book. He looked deep in thought, bristling slightly at being interrupted. ‘What?’

‘I’ve just come from the maester’s chambers,’ you started, walking slowly towards him like a skittish animal.

‘Why? Are you hurt?’ he closed his book with a loud snap and set it aside. ‘Come.’ he prostrated himself on the couch, legs spread slightly as an indication. 

You lifted your skirts and sat upon his lap, as you do– as he commands, usually. It was easy to know what he wanted without words. He inspected your face carefully, turning you from side to side, skin taut between thumb and forefinger. Then, the back of his hand felt your forehead. ‘You aren’t running a temperature. You aren’t sick, are you, little wife?’ 

‘N-No… I had thought so with… the issues of late.’

‘Issues? What issues?’ he pressed, his lone eye boring into you with intensity. 

‘I… ehm… have had an upset stomach– and… my…’ you blushed as you spoke. ‘My breasts have been tender.’

‘... hm.’

‘The maesters– they… inspected, thoroughly. They say I am with child… two moons.’ 

‘Pregnant. You’re… pregnant?’

‘Y-yes.’

Aemond stared at you for a long moment, not blinking. You had feared his reaction, you weren’t sure why, though. You knew your husband… liked you, didn’t he? In his own, special way. The way that he loved to call you stupid and bite you and choke you and never tell you that he loves you, except when lost in the throes of pleasure. 

‘Husband?’ you squeaked out, anxiety swirling in the pit of your stomach at his lack of reaction. Aemond was good at concealing his emotions– but you could see the pupil of his violet eye dilating like a creature in the dark.

‘Good,’ he said simply, a hand on your waist, squeezing slightly. Then, a moment of recollection came over his face and he stopped squeezing, letting his hand laze on the curve of your body. 

‘... good?’ 

‘Yes. Good. Do you wish praise for doing your duty?’ he grunted, already beginning to unlace your bodice. He wriggled it down your chemise and pawed one of your breasts. ‘Hm.’

‘W-what?’ 

‘They do seem… larger.’

He was gentle to you that night and every night after that. In touch and act alone– his words still left much to be desired.

As you both perused the throne room, approaching the iron throne, Aemond’s jaw clenched in irritation. You were well along in your pregnancy now, eight moons, and were quite round and stout, feeling all the part of a plump trout carrying eggs, trying to swim upstream– 

“Where is the chair?” Aemond barked suddenly, causing you to jump.

“T-the chair, your grace?” one of the servants mumbled.

“The chair for my lady wife, you fool. Do you expect her to stand?” He thoroughly scared the daylights out of the poor servant, who rushed off to find a chair. “Incompetent.” 

“... I pray he returns soon– my ankles are protesting this walk.” you murmured.

“If all of these prying eyes weren’t here,” Aemond whispered in your ear. “Mayhaps I’d have you sit with me on the throne.”

The thought of it sent a thrill through you, tingling all the way to the base of your spine and beyond. It was a wonderful fantasy, but you couldn’t get the logistics of it out of your head– you would certainly impale yourself on one of the unruly swords. “Mayhaps we can arrange something in our chambers after this, husband?” 

Aemond uttered a sound between a growl and a quiet moan before guiding you further to your seat, now properly prepared. You leaned back on the chair, adorned with a pillow, putting a hand over your swollen belly. 

As much as you appreciated Aemond’s… concern and vigilance with having you everywhere with him, you wished you could skip the tedious things. Your mind wondered the entirety of the session, tuning out the droning voices of the lords and only focusing on your husband’s. He sounded so powerful, commanding his lessers as if they were the sheep and he the shepherd. You didn’t lie when you thought the crown looked better on him than Aegon– Aemond was more suited towards this life. 

You know he wanted it all– the title, the crown, but not at the expense of his brother, never at his expense– so he would have to be content with what he could make for himself. That included you and your unborn child. You wished so dearly that it would be a son, a son for him to continue his bloodline, his legacy. 

Finally, the meeting ended and Aemond all but swept you off your aching feet to your rooms. He set you down on the bed and undressed you without much ceremony. “I couldn’t keep my mind off of you that entire time– if I were a lesser man… I may have not waited until our chambers to succumb to you.” he whispered, dragging kisses up from your knees, to your thighs and then your belly. 

A gentle, but calloused, hand wrought over the stretched skin. He loved touching your belly, he couldn’t get enough of it– he was a scholarly man in all accounts, secretly in wonder of the machinations of the human body and how it could vessel something like another person. He would never admit this, of course, but you could tell just by how his eye roved your form, how he took in every detail. He parted your legs, swiping a finger between your already soaked folds– as it didn’t take much for you to become feral these days, either. You had been since he suggested the idea of the throne, forced to squeeze your thighs together through the duration of the hearing to relieve some of the ache.

“So wet for me already, are you?” he hummed, gathering your slick with two fingers this time and kissing your thigh, so close, so close to your aching center.

“... y-yes, husband– you kept me waiting,” you murmured. In your pregnancy, you’d become indignant and spoiled– and he let you. “So cruel.”

“Cruel?” Aemond questioned, a brow raised. “Cruel– you know me cruel, my dear wife,” he growled, parting your folds and licking a line from bottom to top. “Cruel would be… letting you sit for hours longer on the edge and not giving it to you,” he anointed his point by roving his tongue over your pearl, eliciting a keening whine from you. “Or mayhaps, not giving it to you at all. Shall I be cruel, wife?”

You shook your head fervently. “P-please, Aemond,” you panted, the heat of the moment and your out-of-whack hormones already making you perspire, sweat beading at your forehead. You felt like a bitch in heat, every touch of him on you was like a thousand sparks from a flint, trying to light your pleasure, trying, trying– but then dying, but it was always so close, on the precipice. “Touch me– don’t tease me.”

“Hm,” he roved it over in his mind for a faux moment. “You are doing so well carrying my child, aren’t you?” 

“Y-yes, please!” 

“Mayhaps I will reward you for being a good wife, a good mother.”

“Please, my king,” you whimpered, using his title only reserved for bedplay. You wanted it bad, and he knew.

Once again, his pupil waxed and waned like the moon phases, like the ebbing and flowing tide– and then he began to feast upon you like the animal he truly was. His tongue roved over your sensitive core, suckling and nipping. Your hand flew to his hair, clenching it into your fist. He had become so expert in pleasing you with his mouth, something he only started after you became pregnant– you hoped this would stay. 

“A-Aemond, f-fuck,” you cursed, throwing your head back on the pillow, clutching his silky strands between your fingers. “M-more, your grace–” 

He lavished you like he was starved, not letting up at any point to even let you breathe– it was a constant assault on your clit, with only a few moments of relief when he caught his breath, looking up at you like the cat who got the cream, a smug grin on his face, the glisten of your essence on him. His thumb finished what his tongue started, kneading over your sensitive bud as you babbled and cried, fluttering around nothing as you came. 

You heard the sound of his belt undoing, and his hand was in yours, guiding you to his rock hard member. “Don’t you see what you do to me, hm? I quite like you round, so full of my child,” he said as he lined up with your entrance, sliding in with no resistance. “Mayhaps I shall keep you like this and we will have an entire castle full of children.” he stayed upright, hands on your thighs. You still ached for his hand around your throat, so badly– but it wasn’t good for the babe. 

He began a slow, almost lazy pace, staring down at you now as he loomed like a shadow, picking up his speed. As he sped up, he reached up and tore off his eyepatch, throwing it aside. The sapphire in his eye socket gleamed at you and you swore you could see yourself reflected into it– 

It didn’t take long for him to reach his own peak, grunting and growling, balls tightening. His hand also itched so desperately to lace around your throat like a necklace, but his hand just twitched and clawed into the sheets as he emptied himself into you. He, regrettably to both of you, pulled out and encircled himself around you, arms resting on your ribs as you were lulled to sleep by his breathing and closeness.

You awoke, not knowing how many hours later, to him speaking. “Nyke jaelagon ao emagon aōha muñnykeā's pungos.” I hope you have your mother’s nose. “Ao'll rhaenagon gūrēñare lēda iā egros rȳ izula. Iā kostilus tōma. Aōha muña kessa daor hae ziry, nyke gīmigon.” You'll start training with a sword at age four. Or perhaps five. Your mother will not like it, I know.

His head was laid near your belly, faced away from you, his hand draped over it softly. He didn’t know you were awake– he was… speaking to the baby. You could only catch bits and pieces of what he was saying– but it didn’t matter. It wasn’t a conversation for you to know. You closed your eyes once more.

–

“M-may the mother… guide me… and bless me with a son,” you murmured. “Bless us with a son, please.” you groaned as you tried to get up, your knees bruised and sore. You had been praying every day for the last fortnight as your delivery loomed closer. You feared to give him a daughter– as accompanying as he’d been during your pregnancy, you knew… you knew what he wanted. And you knew it was a coin flip to give him what he wanted.

You felt heavier than usual, finding it difficult to get back up after being down for so long– you felt a strain in your lower back, then an acute pop. A gush of wetness flowed down your legs. “A-ah– ser!” you called to your sworn sword, a member of the Kingsguard picked by Aemond specifically to be with you at all times when he wasn’t around. Presently, Aemond was taking a ride upon Vhagar. “Ser!”

“My lady?” the Kingsguard rushed in, eyes wide. “Are you alright?”

“T-the… the babe–” 

–

“Why wasn’t I notified?” Aemond growled, stalking through the corridors as he paced to the maester’s quarters. 

“Y-You were in the sky, your grace– we didn’t know how to reach you–” 

“Fuck’s sake– is she alright, then?” 

“Yes– uhm…” 

“Uhm? What? Is my wife alright or not?!” 

“Yes– she and the babe are alright.”

 Aemond fumed as he opened the doors, eye zeroing in on the maester, then you. You were mortified, crying, holding a little bundle against your breast. 

“A-Aemond,” you croaked. You were shaking like a leaf.

“Congratulations, your grace,” the maester spoke. “It is a healthy baby girl.” 

Girl.

Girl.

Girl.

You couldn’t stop sobbing as you watched his face, impassive, turn to confusion, to longing, to grief, to anger, to…. Nothing. He stared at you blankly then.

“Aemond– please– I- I prayed to the Gods every day for a son, I’m sorry,” you blubbered. “I’m so sorry–” 

“Don’t.” Aemond’s voice snapped like a whip as he walked closer. “Let me see the babe.” 

You offered the bundle to him– a baby girl. She had curls of red hair like you and lavender eyes like her father. Sensing movement and a change of presence, the baby sneezed, staring up at her father. He stared back, his expression unreadable. “Vaella. Her name is Vaella.” he didn’t ask, nor suggest. He declared. Glancing back at you, he spoke quietly. “We will just have to try again, won’t we, wife?” His tone was like a fog upon you– it was proposed like a thinly veiled threat, a promise– but then his gaze softened almost imperceptibly. You wonder if you imagined it. “Kirimvose, ñuha dōna ābrazȳrys.” Thank you, sweet wife. “Ñuha hūra,” My moon. He turned back to Vaella, whispering. “Se ñuha qēlossās.” And my stars.

–

Aemond ended up getting his heir and then some, a year and a half later. You gave birth to triplets. All boys. 

Maegon, Vaelar, and Rhaelor.

[redbullgirly]

Hi! Can you write something about Lando x reader where she wants to wait till marriage to have sex and how'd he react to this? I'll leave the rest to you, it doesn't have to be a whole fic, maybe just a small blurb. Thank you <3

SAND AND CONFESSION [LN4 oneshot]

Lando Norris x reader

Summary: You and Lando have been going out for few weeks, maybe months now. While you're enjoying each other's company on a beach with sunset behind your backs, you decide to tell him you want to wait with sex till marriage.

Word Count: 0.8k

Warnings: English isn't my first language and I honestly didn't write for a while, so if some sentences are kinda weird or sloppy, I'm very sorry! Don't be afraid to correct me if you find some errors.

Author's Note: Hi Anon, thanks for the request! I hope you and everybody else will like this shorter fic I wrote based on it. I'll appreciate likes, comments, follows, reblogs and any other form of support! :)

The sand beneath your feet was still warm, though the sun had almost set behind the fluffy clouds on the horizon. You ran up the beach, trying to get as far from the sea as you could, before the curly-haired man could throw you into the waves, messing up your hair. He followed you, laughing and almost tripping, which was probably the only reason you actually managed to escape to the laid out blanket with your things and bags.

You laid on it, your chest covered in droplets of salty water heaving with uneven breaths. Some sand probably stuck to your wet skin, but you didn't mind.

“Y/N, you left me there all alone!” Lando faked a pout, standing above you with crossed arms and a silly smile.

“Yeah, 'cause you tried to drown me!” you fired right back and stuck out your tongue.

He shook his head and stretched out his arm, helping you stand back up. Then, without any warning, he slapped your ass. You squealed his name and tried to punch him, but he dodged effortlessly. May his fast reflexes be damned.

It was getting darker by every minute, the sun now nearly gone from the evening sky. Shadows slowly crept to the beach, and you shivered in the cool air. Lando, the caring boy he was, instantly noticed the goosebumps popping up all over your body. You were both still just in your swimsuits, and it was getting cold. 

He bent down to the bag you took to the beach with you and took out a big towel. “C'mere baby,” he mumbled, and when you took a step towards him, he wrapped you and himself up in it. 

Suddenly, you didn't feel cold at all — quite the opposite, really. Lando's firm body was pressed against you, his hands around your waist and faces impossibly close to each other. You could feel his warm breath, smelling after the vanilla milkshake you drank at a cozy café before going to the private beach.

One of his big hands cupped your cheek, your eyes locked in with his intense blue stare. Lando and you were going out for a few weeks, even months now. You didn't put any label on it, maybe too afraid of the feelings that bubbled in your stomach every time that exact expression appeared in his eyes. The one of pure adoration and happiness, as if you'd give him the Moon. And honestly? If he ever asked, you probably would. Or at least try.

As if the boy could read your thoughts, his smile deepened, and he finally closed the remaining distance between you two. His lips felt soft and hard against yours at the same time, asking and demanding all at once. Lando was always careful at the start, but as soon as your body relaxed, and you gently bit his bottom lip, the kiss heated up pretty quickly.

He moaned into your mouth and his hold on your waist tightened. This wasn't your first time making out, but it never felt so intense, so breathtaking before. You struggled to keep pace with him, though you'd lie if you said you didn't like it. However, when his hands slipped under the towel that was still wrapped around your bodies, and tugged onto your bikini straps, you pulled away. Your cheeks were flushed, lips swollen and hair messy.

He stopped, furrowed his eyebrows in confusion and looked at you questioningly, eyes wide. You realized Lando thought he did something wrong, again. And that made you feel even worse than before.

“What's wrong, babe?” he asked in a quiet voice, his hand still cupping the side of your cheek. You wanted to look down, ashamed and not knowing how to say what had to be said, but Lando didn't let you. “You can tell me Y/N. I won't be angry or anything.”

It was his assurance and sweet voice that caused you to sight and swallow thickly.

“I… there's something I need to tell you,” you whispered. He just nodded, listening curiously. “So, I feel weird saying it, but… I never actually… you know.” You point between you and him. “I never did this before,” you confess, not able to look him into the eyes.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he chuckled, shaking his head. “That's no problem at all-” You put your finger on his lips, silently asking him to be quiet.

“And,” you say, making him know that's not all you wanted to say, “I don't want to. Not until marriage.”

Now he seems surprised, taken aback even. It's clear he's processing your words for a moment, while you almost faint from the nerves. You're worried he won't understand. That now, when you told him he won't get what most men want, he'll break up whatever you two have going on.

But he does nothing like that. No, he nods slowly, a little smile tugging at the corners of his lips. A smile that soon turns into the grin you know so well by this point. And then, Lando pulls you closer and whispers in your ear: “Well, good thing I plan on marrying you one day.”

And even though he says it in a joking voice, wanting to lighten up the atmosphere, you know right there and then that deep down, he means it.

THE END

[hottpinkpenguin]

The Best Pupil - Feyd Rautha X Fem!Reader

A/n: this is absolutely nothing but pure, depraved, toe-curling smut. MINORS - keep it moving, this is not the fic for you! 18+ only! this is my first time writing for Feyd, also probably my most explicit oneshot yet - happy to do more if anyone has requests :)

Tags: Dom!Reader/Sub!Feyd, breeding kink, curvy/plus size reader, praise kink, oral sex (f. and m. receiving), anal play, orgasm denial, student/teacher vibes, non-canon stuff, soft!Feyd, angst turn to fluff, smutsmutsmutsmuttysmutsmut, plotless smut Word Count: 4160

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

You strode into the na-Baron’s bedchamber, pulling back the hood of your rain-soaked cloak. You couldn’t see him in the lightless room, but you knew he was there.

“Feyd.”

Nothing but silence. No bother. You knew how to draw him out. 

You began to pull at the line of clasps that ran down the front of the cloak, locking it like a vice around your silhouette. One by one, the clasps sprang open. The gown you wore underneath was strapless, and you let the cloak fall off your shoulders to reveal your skin to the light of Giedi Prime’s moon. You could practically smell Feyd’s excitement, even if you couldn’t see him. You knew his eyes were drinking you in from the darkness. You tilted your head back, your eyelids fluttering closed as you undid the final clasp, letting the cloak pool at your feet.

This time, you heard an audible inhale as Feyd slunk towards you out of the shadows. You wore nothing but a sheer gauzy black gown underneath, putting your ample curves on full display for your na-Baron. Your nipples were already hard and chafing against the barely-there material of your dress.

“Come out and play, Feyd,” you simmered. He was on you before his name fell quiet off your tongue. 

“Priestess.” He exhaled as he said your title, the way he lingered on the s’s sending a shiver up your spine. Your hands found his face easily - smooth, soft skin pulled taut over the hard lines of his jaw. You let your fingers dance small circles across his cheeks, lips, and brow. He was panting but perfectly still in front of you. Just like you’d taught him. You smirked as you found his lips, trembling with anticipation, and plunged two your fingers inside his mouth. 

“Suck.” Feyd, ever eager to please you, obeyed. His lips closed in around your digits and you felt his tongue dance over your fingertips. Delicate and restrained. 

“Such a good boy for me.” Feyd whimpered in ecstasy at your praise. You saw his eyes close as he doubled his efforts on your fingers. You moved them around his mouth, reaching back to touch his molars and running them along the inside of his cheeks. He was vibrating, his hands desperate to touch you, to rip the layers of your gown off you and lose himself in your body. But years of training had left him completely under your control. Feyd-Rautha, the brutal heir to the blood-soaked Harkonnen legacy, was putty in your deft hands. 

“Good job, na-Baron,” you cooed as you pulled your fingers out of his mouth. His greedy mouth tried to follow your fingers, desperate for more of you, all of you, any part of you that you would grant him. You thought about smacking him, making him kneel, maybe punishing him for being so needy by retiring to your private quarters and leaving him hopelessly unfulfilled until the next lunar cycle. But your body was keening for release, desperate for him inside you, pounding into you until you couldn’t breathe, couldn't talk, couldn’t think.

“Patience, my love. Patience.” Feyd bit his lip as his eyes poured into you, waiting for your next move, his next command. 

“Watch.”

Only the simmer in his eyes betrayed his frustration at being denied the satisfaction of your skin. He nodded with a lovesick pout as you walked past him, over to his expansive bed. Black silk sheets were strewn like pools of water over the bed. You sank backwards onto the mattress, hiking the delicate fabric of your see-through gown up over your thighs. You leaned back, exposing your pussy to Feyd. His eyes devoured the sight greedily as he bit down hard on his bottom lip, trying to control his desire for you.

“Come here. Kneel.” You pointed at the smooth, marbled floor in front of where your legs were propped up and spread open. You could feel the cool night breeze hitting the moisture already pooled in between your thighs. Feyd obeyed, moving with restrained strength as he came to kneel before you. The muscles in his neck and jaw were locked tight, every fiber of his concentration bent on restraint. 

“Closer, na-Baron. Close enough to smell me.” 

Feyd’s eyes flicked over your face as he obeyed your torturous commands. He sidled closer to your wet slit, so close that you could feel his heavy exhales on your thighs. 

“So obedient,” you purred, letting your fingers - still damp with his spit - begin dancing over your sensitive clit. You gasped at the sensation, your free hand coming to cup one of your breasts. Your cunt shuddered, clamping down on nothing. 

“It’s been a long time since I’ve let you have me,” you commented idly, your eyes locking with Feyd’s. He held your gaze, knowing that’s what you expected of him. He nodded once, a nod of pure agony. “I wonder, na-Baron,” you paused as you slid two fingers inside of you, your breath hitching in your throat at the sensation. Feyd fidgeted where he knelt in front of you. Your knuckles brushed the tip of his nose as you began working in and out of yourself. “Are you ready to please me after all this time away? Or will you give in to baser instincts?” 

You cocked an eyebrow at him, inviting him to reply. The sight of him, kneeling and stockstill between your spread-eagle legs, sent a shockwave of delight sprinkling over your skin. You threw your head back as you gave him permission to reply: “Speak.”

“Your pleasure is always my sole concern, Priestess.” Gods, he really meant it too. You were hardest on Feyd because he was your most gifted student. Endowed with impressive physicality and astounding stamina, you’d taken great care to shape his will to your needs over the years. And he always satisfied you. Always. 

“Then show me, na-Baron. Eat until I can’t tell you not to anymore.”

His eyes glittered with anticipation as he waited for the word that set him free. You pulled your fingers out of your pussy, licking your moisture off of them with a throaty moan, and settled into a propped-up position so you could watch the show. 

“Begin.” 

Your command sent Feyd into a frenzy. He dove into you like a predator, his mouth clamping down on your already twitching cunt with primal ferocity. He growled against you, arms hooking around your thighs and locking you in place. You cried out instantly, back arching off the bed as his tongue found your sensitive bud and he slipped three fingers inside you with force. 

Your first orgasm crashed against you fast and hard. Your thighs shook with pleasure as Feyd lapped and sucked and stroked you with his tongue, moaning at the sight of you coming on his mouth. You collapsed fully back to the mattress, your hands coming to his head and dragging him harder against your mound. He practically roared into you as he curled his fingers upwards inside you, pressing and pounding in and out. Your first orgasm hadn’t fully receded before you felt the coil deep within your core snapping again. Incoherent words and splinters of his name spilled from your lips as you screamed out loudly. The sound drove Feyd-Rautha mad. You knew others could hear you, and it didn’t matter. You were his Priestess, and he was your na-Baron. Let them listen.

Your entire body was shaking from the force of your pleasure when Feyd pulled back from your mound, wrenching your hips sideways to flip you 180 degrees over onto your stomach. You slammed down on the luxuriously soft sheets with a grunt of surprise. Feyd’s mouth was back on you in an instant, greedily digging at your cunt from a new angle. His fingers pulled back from your slick slit, moving upwards to your other entry and pressing inwards. 

The initial gasp of surprise turned into a chuckle, and Feyd that further coaxed into a gurgled moan of pleasure as he stretched your ass. His fingers were sopping from your orgasms and his spittle. They slid in and out of you easily. He knew your body better than his lungs knew air, and he showcased his skill with relish. Another wave of pleasure crested inside you, turning your muscles to jelly as you buried your face in the sheets, crying out his name in ecstasy. Liquid gushed from between your legs and onto his face. He groaned at the taste, lapping up every last drop as he shook his face against you, elongating the pulsing of your climax. You tried to scoot away from him, out of his grip, but you’d trained him too thoroughly to let you escape now. Your body felt like it was on fire, your oversensitive clit pounding in time with the flicks of his tongue. 

“Stop, Feyd, stop.” He only chuckled and kept going, remembering your command: eat until I can’t tell you not to anymore. 

Your fourth orgasm wiped your mind clear of any coherent thought. You were too weak, too undone to even protest. You simply closed your eyes and let Feyd guide you through. He sensed the change, his attention becoming less feral and gentler. He danced his mouth over your clit in a delicately decrescendoing pattern, letting you settle back into your body softly. When you finally reared up, hair mussed and your gown completely twisted around your midsection, he pulled off of you. He’d done well, followed your commands exactly. You clumsily flipped yourself back over, spots dancing in your vision. He was stripping off his black fighting leathers at the foot of the bed, his smooth, muscled skin shining in the dim moonlight of his chamber. 

“Priestess. I trust you’re not disappointed with my performance?” A lesser man would have smirked with smugness at that question. Evidence of your satisfaction was literally dripping off his chin. But not Feyd-Rautha. His voice was devastatingly sincere, his eyes drinking you in, waiting, begging, for your praise. 

You smiled at him, running your tongue over your lips as his erect cock sprang free of his trousers. 

“Your Priestess is never disappointed when you’re so obedient for me,” you replied. You saw Feyd shiver. He moved involuntarily to fist himself, but stilled, remembering that you had yet to allow him. 

“What would my Priestess have with me next?” he asked quietly. A dark quality to his voice, a deepening wont. The game was heating up. This was the part Feyd loved: putting aside his imminent pleasure for you. He’d done it a thousand times for you. Fuck you right up until he was shuddering with the first waves of his own finish, and then pull back from the edge at the very last moment. You’d hold him in limbo for hours, sometimes days, before you’d let him release. 

But tonight wouldn’t be like that. Tonight was different. Tonight you had news. 

“Before that, na-Baron. We have business to discuss.” You motioned for him to join you on the bed next to you. His eyes widened in anticipation, wondering what you had in store for him. He did as you bade and sank onto the silken sheets next to you. His cock bounced beguilingly as he sat, and you smirked, leaning over and taking his length in your mouth in one smooth motion. He moaned, his head throwing back, as a hand twined itself in your hair. No pressure, no guidance or demand in the touch. Just a need to feel you, to hold you. You allowed it.

You slid your mouth up and down his shaft a few times, the salty tang of his precum staining the back of your tongue. With your lips sealed shut around his member, you let your tongue trace patterns up and down the shaft and across the head as you pumped up and down. You knew just how Feyd liked it, and you felt his dick twitch appreciatively at the attention.

“What is this business, Priestess?” His voice was breathy with lust. You pulled back, letting his girth spring out of your lips with a little pop. He gasped softly and let you push his torso backwards onto the mattress. 

“I received a message from the Emperor’s Rite, the head of my order.” You guided Feyd’s feet upwards off the cool stone floor until he was lying prone on his back with his knees bent upwards against his chest. You moved yourself below him, kneeling off the edge of the bed, his backside and balls exposed to you. 

“The Rite, as you remember, makes decisions about mixing bloodlines.” You were dragging this out, and you could sense Feyd’s confusion. Determined not to let him think too far ahead, you let a dollop of spit drip out of your mouth onto his thick cock, and using one of your hands coated his length with it. 

“I remember,” he replied hoarsely. 

You licked a stripe from the base of his cock down over his balls and below, to the soft spot above his ass. He gasped - eyes rolling back in his head in ecstasy - as you applied pressure there with a finger, your other hand pumping up and down on his shaft.

“The Rite has bidden me to conceive a child,” you continued. The words fell heavy on Feyd’s ears, and you felt his breath still in his chest. Feyd-Rautha hadn’t taken another woman to his bed in over six years, nor you another man. The na-Baron was dangerously jealous, and even if you were to command it of him, you knew it was beyond his ability to restrain himself from killing any man who had you in the ways he did. 

You continued your ministrations to his cock, applying pulsing pressure to the soft skin behind his balls in time with your strokes. Despite his obvious distraction at your words, his body responded with delightful predictability. His breath was growing huskier, his focus drifting.

“Conceive with who, Priestess?” he managed to choke out. Even through the fog of sex, you heard the low tone of threat in his words. You smiled, glad he couldn’t see you spoil the moment in the darkness. 

“With the na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen.” 

Feyd’s head snapped up just as you attached your mouth to one of his balls and sucked, drawing forth a moaning cry of pleasure from him. You felt Feyd’s core muscles grind down on themselves as he shook with the force of an orgasm. Years of your careful training had shown him how to crest in pleasure without spilling his seed, something that had always been of paramount importance for the two of you. Preventing a pregnancy was your chief concern as the na-Baron’s Priestess. Until now, that was.

You continued the carefully orchestrated dance between your two hands and your mouth to coax him through his climax, his legs quaking around you as you tested the limits of his release. You loved him like this - totally vulnerable, totally trusting of you. No one else in the galaxy knew this Feyd-Rautha. No one else had this power to break him down and put him back together. And now, with what you’d just told him, no one else ever would. 

When he was coherent enough to speak, he sat upright, grabbing your chin between his forefinger and his thumb. His gaze was probing as he captured your eyes with his.

“Don’t jest, Priestess. Please.” His speech was sloppy with a mix of apprehension and longing.

You chuckled, grabbing the hand that captured your chin and pressing a kiss to his trembling knuckles. 

“Am I to assume you’re not up to the task of fathering my child, na-Baron?” You gave him a wicked smirk, your eyes glimmering in the moonlight. Much to your surprise, tears of sincerity pooled at your lash line. One slipped out, sliding down your cheek until Feyd - uncharacteristically gentle - swiped it away. His hands came to frame both sides of your face as he stared into you. Feyd had never seen such a vision, never dreamt of this moment. His consorts with you had been sanctioned by the Emperor’s Rite, of course, but it was typical for nobles in the Great Houses to take sexual instruction from the Priestesses. He’d always known that you’d be tasked with conceiving a child for the furtherance of a chosen bloodline. He hadn’t let himself dare to hope that it would be his bloodline. 

For the first time since his training with you had begun over six years ago, Feyd-Rautha leaned forward and captured your lips with his. Kissing was strictly forbidden between Priestesses and their consort-pupils. It was considered too intimate, too familiar. He’d seen your lips wrapped around his cock a thousand times, but he’d never tasted them with his own mouth. He was encouraged that you didn’t pull back or toy with him. Instead, your lips met his with a matched neediness. The two of you found your rhythm easily, your tongue darting over his lips coyly. He smiled against you, his hands cupping the back of your head and pulling you deeper into him. He could taste the faintest trace of himself on your tongue, and it drove him wilder. Only until he felt close enough to swallow your heartbeats did he pull back ever so slightly, holding you still a hair’s width away from him. You looked up at him through thick lashes, your breath warm on his skin. 

“When have I ever disappointed you, my Priestess.” This time, it was his turn to smirk. He leaned in for another kiss, deep and passionate. You murmured against him the only word he needed - “Begin” - and he felt his restraint tear loose from six years of carefully constructed ritual. 

He leaned back, pulling you on top of him until your bodies were melded together in a long line. He loved the way you felt on top of him - soft and full and womanly. Warm and soft and totally fucking his. The gauzy fabric of your gown left too much skin inaccessible to his touch, so he ripped the material with ease, sliding the torn fabric out from between you and casting it aside. You kept your mouth locked on his, his mind fracturing under the weight of so many distracting sensations. He felt you reach down for his cock, steadying it between you as you shifted your hips and placed him at your entrance. 

He exhaled throatily to feel how wet you were - how ready. Normally, he would have taken his cue from you, but the news you’d just delivered had changed something. Feyd-Rautha was no longer simply your pupil. Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen was to be the father of your child, he was to be your breeder. 

His hands found your hips, holding you still as he thrust upwards into your folds, sheathing himself inside you with a merciless ferocity. A gasp of shivering pleasure fell off your tongue. Feyd repeated the same motion - withdrawing from your cunt completely before thrusting back up into you with a strong, hard stroke. Your tits bounced eagerly as you held yourself up above him, the entirety of your body on display for him. Feyd’s gaze raked over your curves, imagining how your breasts would get heavy and your belly swell with child. His child. The thought drove him mad. 

With a roar of desire, he flipped you over on your back, throwing your legs up to your shoulders until he had you bent completely in half. He pounded into you over and over again, coaxing another fast, brutal orgasm out of your fluttering cunt. He felt your walls convulsing around him, watched your face as you gasped out his name. Your hands grabbed at him, dragging nails down his back and pulling at his ass. As if you wanted to pull him into the very center of you, beneath your skin. If such a thing were possible, I would do it, he thought with blazing possessiveness. He leaned forward, muffling his name on your lips. You were too gone, too blissed out, to kiss him back with any dexterity whatsoever, but he didn’t mind. He wanted you broken in half with the force of him, absolutely shattered in a million little pieces of fucked out pleasure. And then, only when you were completely undone beneath him, would he loose himself inside you. He’d never spilled his cum inside your cunt. He’d painted your tits, your backside, your face, your hair with it. He’d emptied himself inside your ass before, but never inside your perfect, pounded out pussy. Goosebumps pricked across his back at the thought.

“Going to fucking come inside you, Priestess,” he moaned, feeling his release approaching. Seeing you bouncing wildly beneath him, tears pricking at the corner of your eyes, was sending him hurtling towards unraveling. “Going to breed you with my child. Breed you until you can’t breath. My beautiful Priestess, my only Priestess. So fucking good to me. Say I can, Priestess. Let me come inside.” 

He didn’t know whether he was speaking out loud anymore, but you understood him. “Breed me, Feyd,” you gasped, eyes locking with his. Feyd let his mind splinter into a white fog as his forehead connected with yours. He felt your breath fanning across his face as you whined his name, felt your body slick with sweat bouncing underneath him as his movements became sloppy, felt your pussy squeezing around him as pumped himself into you. He felt like the very core of his body had become unlaced, deliciously undone. He managed to hold his weight off of you until he was utterly spent, and then collapsed on you. You didn’t seem to mind, your hips splayed open underneath him where the two of you were still connected. He could feel wetness seeping out of you - his wetness, he realized - but even that didn’t rouse him. He listened to the sound of your heartbeat matching his, let the feeling of your breath on his ear lull him in and out of the fog like a dream. Moments passed by slowly. Inch by inch, Feyd felt blood flood back into his hands, his legs, his arms. 

He pressed himself upwards enough to look down at you. Your eyes were shut, a dreamy smile on your full lips. Your hair was splayed around you like a halo - no, a goddamn crown, he realized. 

“Marry me.” 

You chuckled at his words, one of your hands coming to the skin of his back, lazily dragging back and forth across his skin. 

“Marry me, Priestess.” More insistent this time. His intention was clearer, his future beginning to lock into place in his mind. Nothing made more sense than to bind you to him.

You turned to look at him, your brows furrowed. Your lips were puffy, your skin glistening with the results of your mutual exertions.

“Marriage?” Feyd wasn’t surprised you were skeptical. Priestesses - even when they were bred - were rarely proposed to. Their purpose to the Great Houses began with tutelage and ended with child-bearing. Marrying a Priestess didn’t convey any political advantage or advance the interests of the Harkonnen household. But Feyd-Rautha would burn Giedi Prime and the entire galaxy for you. He’d always known that, but never before allowed himself to acknowledge it. 

He slid sideways off of you, propping his head up on one elbow. His eyes traced down the lines of your body as mirrored his position. He couldn’t help but thread a hand between your thighs, feeling the warmth of his cum mixed with your juices there. You were oversensitive and moaned in protest at the intrusion, but he shushed you gently. 

“Marry me, Priestess. I’ll give you the galaxy. I’ll pluck every star from the sky for you.”

You considered his words carefully, your expression serious as you held his gaze. He felt one of your hands land on his cheek, your thumb running across his lips. 

“I don’t need the galaxy, na-Baron,” you replied after a few quiet moments. “But I will marry you.” 

Feyd captured your lips in his, a soft and gentle kiss. He’d never known this type of feeling before. A soft, fluttering lightness in his chest. Joy, he thought. This is joy. 

You pulled back from him gently, merriment dancing in your large eyes. “Although, na-Baron, since you’re offering… I will take a warm cloth.” 

For one of the first times in his life, Feyd-Rautha - heir to Harkonnen house and all its bloodied riches, one of the most skilled assassins in the galaxy - laughed. 

“Anything for you, my Priestess,” he murmured, rising from the sheets. He strode over to the washroom attached to his bedchamber, glancing back at you, draped like a goddess over his bed. This, I can get used to, he thought with joy as he set off to fetch that cloth for you. 

[brynn-lear]

LOCKED AND LOADED [Yandere!Wanderer x Reader]

Prompt: The world is about to end. How will you grieve when you're forced to be with a miserable man until the last second? [Dedicated To: @mixed-kester for the Alone Together Event]

Content Tags: yandere!scaramouche "fluff" oneshot (yes, there are no other parts:]), major persona 3 spoilers but you DON’T need to know the game before reading this since everything is explained, improper use of a S.E.E.S evoker /j, Scaramouche is so normal about you, UNRELIABLE NARRATOR, major character death/s–

V. Acceptance.

"Where the hell are you, (Y/n)?"

Standing near what should have been the front doors of his university was a short man with dark purple hair. He leaned precariously against them, his head tilted upward as if the sickly green moon's ominous pull was nothing to be afraid of. Gekkoukan University's nearby dorms– fraternity and sorority houses included– are not usually this silent. Instead of people, coffins were aligned perpendicular to the ground.

The wanderer glanced at his watch with mild interest. He had been waiting for a while now. Your guest hoisted himself up, circling the ground with the tip of his shoe. The baseline of his attitude had always defaulted to irritability and passive-aggressiveness. The vertically aligned hour-and-minute hands do not placate it. The timing itself makes it worse.

It's December 31st, 2009, 12 AM– the Dark Hour.

With a harsh sneer, he pocketed his hands. You usually have the door to the Velvet Room open to him whenever. What's the big deal? Were you seriously THAT mad at him? Really? He didn't do anything to warrant this "pettiness". He had never known silence as much as this moment.

You should've accounted for the hostility that proceeds on the "off-chance" he did arrive early.

His tone darkened, his bloodied hands gripping his S.E.E.S evoker tightly.

"If you don’t show up, I will cleanse the world of human emotion all by myself"

You shook from afar, afraid of how he wouldn't hesitate to make his threat a reality. He had already taken so much– you were beyond mad at him. You were terrified. Wronged. Abused. You didn't want to step into the light. Much worse, step into his shadow.

The worst thing evil can do is to turn you into one of them.

He clutched the bloodied yellow scarf in his hands tightly.

Why did this happen?

How did things END up like this?

IV. Depression.

You took a deep breath and charged forward.

You don't trust [Wanderer] ever since Ryoji told him about the impending apocalypse.

Seldom do you leave the Velvet Room. You weren't hiding in the Velvet room months before the end of the world was imminent. When April had only reached its fourth day, there was nothing you wanted more than to spend time outside. So ignominiously innocent. You did not know who [Wanderer] was and how much effect he would have on your life at the time. You were just tired of the ongoing stream of uneventfulness.

And now here you are, berating the protagonist in full.

"[Wanderer], why is Ryoji missing?! US ATTENDANTS CAN'T FIND TRACK HIM ANYWHERE!!!"

With a fistful of his university uniform, you yanked him by the collar. Your eyes were livid as you reeled your composure. This wasn't what you had in mind when you were "isekai"d into a video game. Out of any game, why did it have to be Persona 3? And out of anyone that could be a protagonist, why did it have to be HIM?!

You thought this would be a grand affair... Whatever they spun in anime back when your reality existed were pure lies. Where are the scenic views? The mountains? The grasslands? This plane of existence you're forced to sit through for eternity was far from the RPG fantasy people would hope for. No closer you could ever be to paradise.

In fact, this man is threatening to ruin said paradise.

[Wanderer] pulled your hands away forcefully. His glare was not that different from yours. "Why do you care about him so much?"

"Oh, I don't know! Maybe it's because his death means forgetting everything?!" You clenched your empty fists. "You know damn well what happens if he dies! You'll lose all the help you can get to stopping the Fall!"

Such a heavy weight on your shoulders but the protagonist doesn't care. This may be a turn-based game– but it wasn't based on you. If it was, you wouldn't be screaming your heart out at him! You wouldn't be an NPC. Hell, you'd probably be a better protagonist than him.

You closed your eyes, took a deep breath, and sighed every stress out of your system.

"Listen—" You rubbed your temple. "You need to start forming bonds. Social links. Support system. Confidants. Whatever you want to call it. You were supposed to have the answer by now as to what life is for."

[Wanderer] remained silent throughout your spiels. His facial expression alone was enough to infer immense disinterest. You were mindlessly doing your job. There will be no tirade or physical aggression that can convince him that you believe in your assertions with full conviction.

"Do you want to see him?"

"Yes! Of course. Knowing you, you're—"

"Tempted to kill him because you think I want the world to end?"

"Obviously."

That's where you're wrong.

A nihilistic man can have other reasons to commit murder.

"But if he's missing, you can forget about him, right?"

"What on earth are you talking about?!"

[Wanderer] turned around. "Meet me later, you know the time."

"I'll show you where Ryoji is."

III. Bargaining.

XX/09/2009

He doesn't recall the time he was brought into this world like you had.

Puppets are malleable. Memories are easy to overwrite when your body is held together by white wood and "khemia". His past evades him.

Maybe it's better this way.

He took you to Chagall Café. Although it was your first time out in a long while, he had no qualms about ignoring your questions. He feigned deafness as you asked about the news, his college life, friends, or anything related to what was happening in 2009. And he even ignored your humble request to buy the cheapest coffee for you. Instead, he bought you a chocolate frappe.

"For Elizabeth's cutest little sibling." He said, sarcastically copying Elizabeth's tone as he sharply handed the drink. "Wouldn't want everyone's darling to get a caffeine addiction."

Thanks, asshat.

Of all his offensive behavior— he really spent more money just to insult you. You shook your head and accepted it. It's the most expensive one on the menu too. What dedication to being a hater. But before you could open your wallet, he shot your payment down.

"Just take it." He smirked. "Look at you, paying me back for treating you poorly. Are you a masochist?"

You immediately shoved your money back in. "You still bought me a free drink, so really, who's the loser here? Prick."

[Wanderer] laughed heartily before he pulled out his battered codal, which had underlined texts for provisions he deemed important. There was a momentary softness in his gaze that disappeared in an instant.

But that's the only conversation he planned on having that evening. He did mention he'll drag you out in his study session so you weren't too shocked by it. Instead, you sat and awkwardly people-watched. The world you came from and this one were identical. You got through your old 2009 just fine— it's just that Tatsumi Port Island was not a real location from your original Japan.

Your memories about the video game Persona aren't very clear since you reincarnated in the game, but the red band [Wanderer] wore on his sleeve affirmed that he is the leader of S.E.E.S. It's nice to know that someone like him has the potential to become a leader.

[Wanderer] appeared wholly immersed in his studies.

…

Maybe he wouldn't notice if you looked around—

…?!

He immediately grabbed your hand. You yelped slightly as you noticed the iron grip he had.

"Where are you going?"

Don't leave him.

He squeezed just a bit more tightly.

"W-What the— I'm just going to the bathroom." You felt a shiver down your spine as you shared his gaze. There's a dull coldness to it you couldn't quite place, as if he had been a witness to injustice, sevenfold.

You quietly sat back down. He still hasn't let go of your hand.

"Good riddance." He muttered.

"If it isn't [Wanderer]!"

You turned around, yanking your hand away.

It's Ryoji.

You stood up, gawking.

"W-Woah, are you okay?" Ryoji asked, hurriedly approaching you. While you were frozen in place, [Wanderer] looked at his empty hand, feeling your warmth escape his fingertips.

G-Good… he's still alive.

You thought [Wanderer] killed him.

[Wanderer] is the wildcard, and that's a terrifying factor to consider. He hasn't shown any interest in humanity. Knowing his past has not increased any hope on your end. Everyone else in his eyes are insignificant insects.

He has the power to end Ryoji.

He has the power to end this world.

Locked and loaded.

Ryoji's eyes softened. "Wait, I think I know a beautiful face like yours from somewhere… You must be [Wanderer]'s attendant, (Y/n), right?"

You blinked.

"Wait, how did you…"

He chuckled, taking and placing a soft kiss on your gloved hands.

"I have my ways." Ryoji winked.

"Don't touch them." [Wanderer] sneered.

Ryoji stood up straight, unfazed by his threatening tone. You took a moment to examine his appearance. He had a lot of white clothing and a big yellow scarf around his neck. Just below his left eye is a mole. On the surface, he appeared quite human, but everyone seated at this table was aware of his true nature.

He is the 13th arcana. The appraiser.

You and [Wanderer] have every right to be wary.

"I'm Ryoji Mochizuki. It's nice to be officially introduced to you, Mx. (Y/n)."

"Ryoji Mochizuki…" You tasted the syllables.

"Oh? Who knew hearing my name from your lips makes it sound so wonderful."

"C-Cut it out, you don't mean that." You said, a little flustered.

[Wanderer]'s gaze fixated on you, stewing in his concoction of envy and misery. His fists were clenched beneath the table, knuckles turning white. With narrowed eyes, he watched as you continued engaging in conversation with Ryoji. His laughter was grating his ears. He couldn't bear the sight of you engaging with another man, especially someone as flirtatious as him.

Ryoji, sensing [Wanderer]'s distress, shot him a casual glance. To top the look, he paired it with a knowing smirk. He made mental notes of the man's clenched jaw and tensed shoulders.

"You seem a little on edge, [Wanderer]. Finals coming up?" He feigned innocence.

"It's December, and I'm not on edge." He scoffed, trying not to make his gritted teeth evident. "Don't you own a calendar? Finals are in March. To think a pea-brain like you managed to transfer to Gekkan…"

"Right, right." Ryoji smiled, closing his eyes. "Then it must be my proposal you're thinking of."

You stiffened; [Wanderer] did not.

"Ryoji—"

"I know, Mx. (Y/n)." He started. "I know you're not too keen on the idea of killing me. My existence is the affirmation of the Fall. None of you— sorry, I forgot (Y/n) is from the Velvet room— I meant none of them will live till Spring… Or perhaps it's more accurate to say they'll forfeit the will to live."

…

"… I-I'm sorry." Ryoji buried his face in his yellow scarf. There's a certain tremble in his voice that truly emphasizes his sorrow. "Just as all living things die, the flow of time cannot be hindered. But there's comfort in killing me. If you do… you won't have to suffer for the coming days."

If [Wanderer] kills Ryoji, Tartarus, the Dark Hour— the burden of everyone's memories will all disappear.

But [Wanderer] can retain his.

He's not originally from this world after all…

However, should he let him live, the rest of S.E.E.S's life will continue until everyone's inevitable demise.

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever."

[Wanderer] rolled his eyes, diverting his eyes back to his notes. "Everyone will die soon, who cares? I've heard your spiel several times already. You need to get more entertaining material."

"[Wanderer]!" You scolded him.

Your eyes widened in disbelief at [Wanderer]'s unwittingly casual jabs at the apocalypse. You wanted to ask him if he was even listening, but the truth will disappoint you. A cold sweat formed on your brow.

Ryoji's smile crooked into a hopeless one.

"You depend on (Y/n) too much."

[Wanderer] froze. "What did you say…?"

"You have a group of people around you, eager to establish a bond— eager to be friends with you. You have met Junpei, Yukari, Mitsuru, Akihiko, Fuuka, and many others– but you don't consider any of them as your friends." Ryoji shook his head. "Instead, you spend your time with just (Y/n). Never anyone else. Just them. To the point that I think it's unhealthy."

"I don't care for humans." He replied immediately.

"You're human too, [Wanderer]." Ryoji shot back. "You're made of blood, bones, and flesh."

[Wanderer] fell silent. What Ryoji said was true, and yet…

"Am I?" He laughed.

The sound was hollow and mechanical. Deprived of genuine mirth. It did not sound forced, yet his eyes were dull.

…

Perhaps he lived as a puppet for so long that the idea of being human has yet to reach him.

Ryoji shifted, uncomfortably glancing between you two. The tension was palpable despite the cafe's peaceful ambiance. Ryoji cleared his throat softly.

"I should leave…" He trailed off, voice slightly wavering. His eyes darted around, scrambling for words to say. "But, um, before I leave, I just want to say again that you need to give it some more thought, [Wanderer]... It's a big deal… Just…"

Ryoji sighed. "Remember to make your choice to spare or kill me by December 31st. I'm glad you're having fun but don't get too distracted with (Y/n). I'll be waiting."

That being said, his footsteps reverberated loudly in the otherwise still room as he turned and headed for the door. He dared to turn back as he grabbed for the doorknob and saw you two sharing a look that he couldn't determine if it was one of contemplation or displeasure. He hurried out and the cafe door shut behind him.

"Happy?" [Wanderer] bitterly asked.

You paused for a moment… then grinned.

"Tsk, what are you laughing at, worm?"

"Nothing, nothing!" You shrugged. "I just thought that for a guy with a stick up his ass, you're cute when you're jealous."

That riled [Wanderer] up in an instant.

You do not know the full extent of his envy's filth.

"I am NOT—" He stopped, realizing how counterproductive it would be. "Whatever. I don't care."

"Uhuh?"

"Shut up and finish your damn chocolate!"

II. Anger.

Before you know it, it's April.

"Seriously, you three, I'm bored as fuck! Can't I just take a stroll outside?" You yelled, waving the heavy persona compendium in the air as your sisters ignored you.

It hasn't been long since you reincarnated, so your right to go outside isn't as liberal. Given the impending threat of an apocalypse, the Velvet Room attendants are especially overprotective.

"(Y/n), dear sibling, watch your mouth! You mustn't let Igor or Nameless hear you speak so vulgarly."

Taking a good look at your new "siblings", you've noticed how almost everyone was present. Margaret sat elegantly on the sofa while Theodore & Elizabeth were doing their best to calm you down. It's almost rare to have all three in one place. The three oldest were busy-bodies who had more eccentric matters they devoted their attention to. Including rapping and dancing, though neither performances are good for your senses.

"If boredom plagues you, then you should try teasing Theodore." Elizabeth yawned. "He's easy pickings."

"Sister!" Theodore pouted. "Shouldn't (Y/n) focus on studying how fusing works? It would be a better use of their time…"

"The day (Y/n)'s new wildcard learns the value of social links might just be the day miserly politicians become generous." Elizabeth shrugged.

You paled, tugging her sleeve. "Oh fuck… Am I screwed?"

She gave you a lopsided smile. "I may be your new sibling but that does not mean I am obliged to resolve your problems, (Y/n). Learn to solve this on your own."

Theodore coughed.

"Please, stop scaring them, sister Elizabeth. It's not their fault this new guest is a cruel arbiter. I fear there will not be a second of groundless joy in store for them…"

"You're not helping me relax either! Motherfucker. Can't you two speak normally?"

"Settle down, all of you."

The four of you stood straight as Igor tilted his chin up. Though you've gotten used to his bloodshot gaze, it had a way of prickling your skin this time around. With his signature smile, he closed his eyes and snapped his fingers.

"Our guest is about to enter."

"W-Wait, RIGHT NOW?!?"

Before you could react, the room transformed into what appeared to be a large elevator. The walls were barred and creaking noises began to subtly make their presence. A floating door materialized, and soon, opened.

Dark purple hair and eyes, short frame, soft face.

"…Hmm?"

You blinked.

"Wait, no way…"

You know him.

Of course, you know him.

"Everyone, meet [Wanderer]."

You decided that you two should reintroduce yourselves and forget that the past ever happened.

For now, you had been gifted with a vital role: being the protagonist's attendant.

According to your Igor, your role is to assist your guest in fusing personas. He had chosen you specifically in advance as you are his "anima/animus figure". Initially, that job was for Elizabeth. However, your beliefs, your intuition, your emotions— they're in perfect tune with [Wanderer]. Igor expects you to facilitate their spiritual and psychological growth and implore them to interact more with others.

Which, based on that alone, sounds like this puppet just hired an unpaid therapist.

"What do you want?"

"Well…"

Since you became [Wanderer]'s attendant, you've started to have thicker skin. He will always make his crankiness known each visit. You're slightly grateful for it, for how else would you know patience otherwise? Though his personality rubs you the wrong way, his strength does have merits you cannot ignore. Even Belladona, the Velvet Room's devout singer, had sung praises for his mettle. There was one line that struck you about her song, something about him being like a puppet with a beating heart unbeknownst to himself…

Which is why you thought you might as well try to see if you could convince him to take you out sometimes.

"What, like a date?" [Wanderer] scoffed then smirked, a light blush on his face. "Are you really that desperate?"

"No, eww—" You rolled your eyes. "I meant it literally. Igor and the others wouldn't let me go outside unless I'm with someone they trust."

He looked away and covered his mouth, his shoulders trembling slightly.

"Like a child?"

"Yeah, yeah, shut the fuck up." You deadpanned, your pride slightly chipped. "Like a child or whatever you want to see it, as long as it gets me out of here. I just want to see the world before it all…"

You paused.

Better not to bring it up. You're not sure if Igor told him yet.

[Wanderer] raised an eyebrow. "What's in it for me?"

You shrugged. "Is money not enough?"

He paused.

…

"You've got to be kidding me— Fine, what else do you want?"

His eyelids lowered, hissing slightly. "Evil expects evil from others, huh? I wasn't trying to think of anything more, but now that I think about it…"

"Oh, great."

"… I can take your request," he pointed at you. "But only if you join me in the library. Anywhere else, especially loud places like clubs, I'll send your ass back."

That's a no-brainer.

"Deal!"

Though you've missed the peculiar sight, [Wanderer] had a small smile on his face as you shook hands. The two of you had become nearly inseparable since then.

Worryingly, he's closer to you than other humans.

The only relationship he needed was with you.

And with what little time this world has left, you hope you could have a last cup of coffee with him…

I. Denial.

Your reality crumbled. What a START.

Your family, friends... all gone. No one was left. You convince yourself you "deserved" this punishment for smoking a life away with dreadful workloads, no matter how untrue it was. When the world burnt down, you were sent into a darkness you had not known before.

The person in charge of your reincarnation process told you that for the next few minutes, you and a selected companion will see your lives flash before your eyes in a void— and it will not necessarily be a comforting sight.

But you woke up relaxed. In an abyss filled with broken mirrors meant to depict your character to pieces, you donned a plain expression. There was not an inch of you that grieved for what was lost. Similarly, you had no care for how you were being transmigrated to another realm. Though you had grown accustomed to this isolation, humanity always struggled with silence. There was ringing on your fingers. When you unclasped your hands, you saw a pointed shard. Curiously, you clenched it. But no matter the tightness of your grip, no blood came out.

Your breath fogged up the glass. You wondered why that Memokeeper told you that you deserve to live on. You thought your life was rather unremarkable.

Makes sense. You thought to yourself. I'd rather pride myself on a boring life with integrity than an ambitious yet fraudulent one.

「Assignments. Commute. Study. Review. Assignments. Commute. Study. Review. Was that all your life was...? Then tell me, little (Y/n), why does the mirror in front of you appear distorted?」

And so, you gazed forward. Your reflection stood tall, larger than your life, and it beckoned you to come closer. This "(Y/n) (L/n)" had the opposite of a Cheshire grin- perhaps a caricature- perhaps an accurate depiction. Wearied of yourself and wearied of the sycophantic students around you. How unhappy are you to see yourself as someone like this? Are these the emotions you wish to be preserved? Is this the memory you want your world to be remembered by?

「These memories must be corrupted. Someone must be tampering with them. I do not think you lived a miserable life.」

I can't answer your questions either. But I think that reflection is who I am, because sometimes...

"I wish I had never been born at all."

Your lips were parted, but no sound came out. You resonated with those words, but they did not come from you. The voice was dark, hopeless, and alone.

When you were being sent off, you thought no one was around to greet you. There was another man. He had short hair and purple eyes- an incredibly rare sight in your world. This man seemed to be gazing at his reflection as well. You needn't know how he saw himself. The emptiness in his eyes did not differ from yours. He, too, was masking isolation as independence with an intense fragility. The dread he inflicted upon you was the closest you've ever gotten to facing your own perceived "weakness".

His memories were a mixbag. Some were filled with domestic bliss, but the anger in his heart triumphed more. He had friends but thought himself betrayed. His heart was constructed through a system of evasions, and he was a specialist in self-deception. This man knew little of emotions but had an abundance of it. It's no wonder he refused to sacrifice the artistry of his vengeance against humanity. You can sympathize with how he could not attach himself to those around him. He was burdened with malicious knowledge. Fakes. Lies. Insincerities. A class of his own.

However, he had a sin you cannot empathize with. A trait you can read that you're certain he had never noticed about himself.

He was a sickeningly beautiful man with a peculiar innocence.

He looked like a man who truly did not live in the real world.

This man did not feel real to you. He felt made-up. Fictional. His aura of flawlessness appalled you. Though you shared the same sentiments, you thought him dimensionless.

Yet this is supposedly your first meeting.

「Is it? Where have you seen him before? Can't you remember, dear (Y/n)?」

No. No, I can't.

「... What a shame. Worry no more, little (Y/n). Close your eyes. When you wake up, you will meet your new reality— new realm— new family.」

You nodded and agreed to a higher existence you did not believe in. Unlike others, you were a little bit more incapable of trusting a living soul. But there's no other choice.

Life is ordinarily far from anyone's control in the first place. Why bother fighting? If following can make her fuck off, it doesn't matter.

Nothing matters.

Wait…

Is that…

Scaramouche?

Before you closed your eyes and accepted your fate, you could've sworn...

He looked at you with a crooked grin.

「Thou art I... And I am thou...

Thou hast established a new bond...

Thou shalt be blessed when creating

Personas of the Universe Arcana..."」

"Hmm. Strange… Is that truly the order of the story?"

A woman stared at you.

Not (Y/n) (L/n).

YOU.

BEHIND.

THE.

SCREEN.

She smiled wryly.

Hate might empower you for a short while, but it comes at the cost of consuming you whole. Should a shard or any surface reflect [Wanderer]'s face, he would understand what he had become. However, it's too late. He had made his choice and stomped away any remorse he could have. When all is said and done, he alone will spread the ashes. He alone will stand. A blank slate.

[Wanderer] spent his life looking for scapegoats and ended up removing his responsibility.

Betrayals?

What a sad, sad puppet.

What a poor excuse to justify an entire apocalypse.

A poor excuse of a man.

"THE ARCANA IS THE MEANS BY WHICH ALL IS REVEALED." She muttered softly. "And you have been reading your story in REVERSE. Perhaps this is the only way this world can attain SALVATION. The chronological order is not a slice of life. You did not have a disagreement and decided to start your relationship over again. Life is far more WICKED."

"Read it again, but from DENIAL to ACCEPTANCE. The proper way to GRIEVE DEATH."

With great reluctance, she took the five cards laid on the table and placed them in an upright position.

"Let's see if you'd rather ACCEPT the truth or live in DENIAL."

Mixed-Kester can now message Wanderer [prior to 12/31/2009]

[thirstworldproblemss]

Favorite moon Knight fics??

Fav Moon Knight Fics you say....?

It's possible I might have a few so freakin' many, 'nonny, you don't even know...

List Notes:

Fics are Sorted by type of pairing, then alphabetically by Title

Uses AO3 Ratings: General audiences - Teen & up - Mature - Explicit

Check your Content Settings if you're 18+ and want to be able to see mature content (Settings -> scroll down to Content You See -> Community Labels -> Mature -> show)

Graphics: MK header is mine; adorable moon & stars divider by @straywords

Links sometimes misbehave on desktop–If none of the links are working, try opening in dashboard mode (click the eye-shaped button in the far top right)

— MK System x Reader — .

B-Roll by @heybluechild [ Marc x F reader, 2.2k, E, oneshot ] Summary: You and Marc make a sex tape. (smut, humor)

Chocolate by @bits-and-babs [ Steven x F reader, 6.1k, E, oneshot ] Summary: After weeks of pining for your coworker Steven Grant, sharing chocolate over a late shift causes sparks to fly. (pining, soft smut)

Disaster [ao3] by @softlyspector [ Marc-centric MK system x F reader, 6k, T, oneshot ] Summary: Marc's mental health takes a turn for the worse when you give him some news. After chasing him to Chicago, you, Steven, and Jake are left to pick up the pieces. (heavy angst--mind the warnings!, angst with a hopeful ending)

The First Time by @youvebeenlivingfictional [ Marc x F reader, 3.2k, E, oneshot ] Summary: The first time you and Marc catch one another in a tight spot, you both make it out by the skin of your teeth. You’re both wounded; you’re both riled up as all hell. (violence, angry smut, feeeeeeelings)

Gift of Min & Redux [ao3] by @astroboots [ Steven x F reader x Marc (x Jake), 21k, E, twoshot ] Summary: Marc brings back a trinket from his trip that may or may not contain an ancient sex god/aphrodisiac. Either way, Marc’s not telling, and it’s for you and Steven to find out. (Smut, sex pollen)

Idling by @juneknight [ Jake-centric MK system x F reader, 10k, E, in progress as of 7/6/23 ] Summary: Jake keeps having to front for Marc and Steven's new girlfriend. (angst--mind the warnings!, promises of future smut)

keep your vigils on the road [ao3] by @charnelhouse [ Steven x F reader x Marc (x Jake), 4.2k, E, oneshot ] Summary: They’re on the run. It’s kind of a vacation. (smut, violence)

Killing me by @astroboots [ Jake x F reader (x Steven/Marc), 2.4k, E, oneshot ] Summary: Jake takes it “easy” on you after a long night with Steven. (smut)

Moon Struck [ao3] by @softlyspector [ MK system x dancer F reader, 43.3k, E, series ] Summary: Steven asks you out, Marc falls in love (slowburn, some angst with a happy ending, eventual smut)

No fish were harmed in the making of this meet-cute by @writefightandflightclub [ Marc Spector x F reader, 2.1k, G, oneshot ] Summary: You have a dilemma. You don’t want to sell the man any more fish. But you do want him to keep coming back to your shop 👀 (fluff, humor, angry meet cute)

Obsessed by @juneknight [ Marc x F reader, college AU, 7.2k, E, twoshot in an ongoing series ] Summary: Marc likes eating pussy and offers to eat yours. (smut, college roommates AU) ...Honestly, I probably could have listed ALL of Dorm Room Marc here. Other Favs: The Thing About Marc Spector, Pushing Buttons, Sweet Requitement

Pornstar MK Boys: Marc, Steven, Jake by @runa-falls [ MK system x F reader, porn star AU, 3.0k, E, threeshot ] Summary: as a fluffer, it’s your job to know how to keep the boys interested. each alter has their own preferences (porn star AU, smut)

Shadow of a Doubt by @writefightandflightclub [ Marc x F reader x Steven (x Jake), 7.1k, E, oneshot ] Summary: Marc was first. Steven was second. Khonshu’s never going to love you. …And you’re wondering if Jake will ever get there at all. (relationship/character exploration, some smut, angst with a hopeful ending)

Sting by @bits-and-babs [ Marc x F reader, 3.5k,E, oneshot ] Summary: Marc relies on your amateur skills to patch him up following a brutal fight. (blood, smut, pain kink)

Stone Heart by @magpie-to-the-morning [ Steven x demisexual F reader, 1.5k, T, twoshot ] Summary: Maybe Steven’s one-sided friendship isn’t so one-sided after all... AKA a Moon Knight Pygmalion AU (fluff, romance)

Take Care of You by @tropes-and-tales [ Steven x F reader x Marc, 3.8k, E, oneshot ] Summary: For Steven, it was love at first sight. For Marc, it was a slower thing. (smut, feeeeeeelings)

Where To, Miss? by @foxilayde [ Jake x F reader, E, 7.5k, oneshot ] Summary: Jake Lockley is your driver, escorting you safely in your nighttime travels. There’s something about him. Tonight, you’re going to find out what that something is. (violence, blood, and surprisingly soft smut)

— Intra-MK System Pairings — .

All this time I was just waiting for you by @nakimochiku [ Steven x Marc, E, 20.6k, complete ] Summary: Things never seem to go Steven’s way romantically. Marc helps him work on that. (pining, smut with feeeeeeelings)

in the aftermath by queenie [ Steven x Marc x Jake, E, 37.5k, complete ] Summary: Having his own body is strange (separated into their own bodies after the show AU, slow burn, eventual smut)

last night i watched myself sleep by sweaterlou [ Steven x Marc, E, 19.4k, complete ] Summary: A look into Marc and Steven's relationship progression; from sharing a body to sharing a bed. (pining, smut)

the loneliest number by unstuckintime [ Steven x Marc, 9.6k, E, complete ] Summary: The problem with Steven is that he wants so much and he’s so lonely. He’s so lonely and he asks Marc for it all the time. (smut, feeeeeeelings)

making two reflections into one by marin27 [ Steven x Marc, 101k (as of 9/22/22) , M , incomplete ] Summary: After falling into the sands of Duat, Steven is sent back in time to fix things. He may or may not end up fixing the wrong, but no less important, things. (TL;DR: The fic where Steven fixes his relationship with Marc as the Moon Knight plot happens in the background.) (back in time redo AU, slowburn, pining, feeeeeeelings)

Our Body by apartment [ Marc x Steven, 1.4k, E, oneshot ] Summary: There are benefits to sharing a body, Steven realizes, especially when getting kidnapped is commonplace these days. Or: the "you don't have him; he has you" meme, plus marc's attempts at being a boyfriend (violence, smut)

paths diverted by solarzenith [ Steven x Marc, separate bodies, 6.8k, E, oneshot ] Summary: Khonshu reanimates them, with an ultimatum: come back as one, or come back separate. Marc makes the decision readily, too easily, and Steven had no idea Marc wanted him out of their head so badly. (pining, angst with a happy ending, smut)

see through my act, tell me I'm wrong by snapdragonpop007 [ Marc/Jake x Steven, 31k, T, complete ] Summary: “Leave him alone,” Marc scowled up at Jake from the reflection on the tiled floor. Jake ignored Marc and made a beeline right towards the gift shop as The Man In The Gift Shop Named Steven got back to his feet and went back to the register. “Jake if you go in there I swear to god—” (Steven gets a separate body AU, slow burn, feeeeeeelings)

— Canon / MK System x Layla El Faouly — .

do not enter is written on the doorway (but you can stay) by FlowerCitti [ incidental Marc x Layla x Steven, 19.8k, M, complete ] Summary: When it came to heroes and other vigilantes, Marc didn’t have any interest in interacting with them. He travels with Khonshu’s will, continuing to protect those under the moon and following through with Khonshu’s severe judgments. He kills and keeps Khonshu content and fed, shielded under the darkness of night and the flickers of the moon. (Or, Marc meets the Avengers. And then gets shot in the head.) (plot-centric MCU crossover)

Marc/Layla Ficlet by @writefightandflightclub [ Marc x Layla, 0.3k, T, oneshot ] Summary: How did Marc tie the knot with Layla? (mild angst)

not quite a meet-cute by notmadderred [ MK system-centric, Marc x Layla x Steven, 8.3k, T, complete ] Summary: Layla meets Jake and things get complicated for both of them. (character exploration & bonding)

so this could be the death of me (or maybe just a better me) by @quinnathy [ MK system, Marc x Layla mention, 25k, T, complete ] Summary: One time Marc saves Steven, one time Jake saves Marc, and one time Steven saves Jake. (And so forth.) (character exploration and bonding, some angst)

To Sleep by @radiowallet [ Steven/Marc x Layla, 1.2k, T, drabble series, ongoing ] Summary: Sometimes Steven dreams. For Marc it's a nightmare. Layla El-Faouly does not sleep. (angst, yearning, mentions of canon-typical violence)

.

— Canon / Gen (no Pairing) — .

Jake's not very good, very bad day. No worse than that by Beyney [ Jake-centric, gen (no pairing), 6k, T, oneshot ] Summary: The Avengers think Moon Knight just has no marbles left to lose. The system is not amused. Khonshu is gleeful, and Jake just doesn't want to deal with this shit anymore. At least the god will keep bringing him back if this mission goes way more sideways than it already has, right? ...Right? (MCU crossover, Jake whump, violence/death mention, does some of the MCU crew a little bit dirty for the sake of the story)

That's all I've got for you for now, 'nonny, but this is definitely a non-exhaustive list. I've read so many wonderful MK fics, I'm sure I've missed some that should've been on here and will no doubt discover even more amazing stories in the future. Chances are I'll wind up coming back to add to the list, and you all should feel free to reblog/reply/send me an ask with your fav MK fics!!

Thank you for the ask, dear anon friend! And thank you for being patient with me—it turns out I have a lot more fav MK fics than I originally thought, and it took me a little while to get this list together. Hopefully they'll be something new-to-you here for you to enjoy! 💕

🧡 twp

.

Want more to read? Check out my other Author, Fic, & Fanwork Recs

[seriiousgiirl]

𝓞𝓷 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓴𝓷𝓮𝓮𝓼, 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓹𝓻𝓪𝔂

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ݁ 𝓅𝓇𝒾𝑒𝓈𝓉!𝒶𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓇𝒾𝑜𝓃 𝓍 𝓋𝒶𝓂𝓅𝒾𝓇𝑒 𝒽𝓊𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓇!𝒻𝑒𝓂!𝓇𝑒𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓇 . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

❛ Who are you? Demon to some. Angel to others. ❜

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ 𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎 . ⊹ ₊ ݁. On the run from death after an unsuccessful night's hunting, you seek refuge in a small church deep in the forest. The priest, Astarion, takes you in, promising to take care of you.

Little do you know that despite his angelic face, he has devil thoughts.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ 𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓉 . ⊹ ₊ ݁. kind of enemies to lovers, smut with plot, age gap, somnophilia, taboo kink, dominance and submission, bondage, sensual education, forced proximity, tender worship, rough sex, corruption kink, oral sex, fangs and more...

Despite the angst, this has a good ending. I promise.

➜ ┊: oneshot ⋅ 17K words. A lot is happening. ➜ ┊ a/n: there's been a hype about Astarion as a priest on twitter (thanks to Neil's role) so that's inspired me, nothing offensive is intentional. Just enjoy!

Blood seeped from your wounds, each drop marking your path through the dense, oppressive forest. Every muscle screamed in agony, and your senses were on high alert. Vision blurred, the moon overhead glowed a sinister red, as if mockingly reflecting the blood you were losing. The woods appeared to extend indefinitely, comprising a maze of shadows and gnarled branches that seemed to reach out and entrap you. 

You were a hunter, trained to track and kill the very creatures that now pursued you. The irony was not lost on you; tonight, the roles were reversed. You weren't used to being the prey, but tonight, everything had changed. 

The ambush had been swift and brutal. The vampire had pounced on you with a speed and ferocity that left you breathless. Its fangs had sunk into your flesh before you could react, and though you had fought, the creature had overpowered you, leaving you broken and bleeding in the dirt.

The pain was a constant, throbbing reminder of your vulnerability. Each step was a struggle, your breath coming in ragged gasps as you pressed a trembling hand to your side, trying to stem the flow of blood. Your thoughts were a chaotic whirl, a mix of survival instinct and despair. You couldn't afford to stop. Not here. Not now. The forest was unforgiving, and every heartbeat echoed with the fear of what might be lurking in the darkness.

As your strength waned, you scanned the forest desperately for any sign of shelter. Just when despair began to creep in, you saw it: a church. Its silhouette emerged from the shadows, an ancient structure that stood in stark contrast to the wild, untamed forest around it. The stained glass windows glowed softly, illuminated by flickering candles within. The sight was almost surreal, like a beacon of hope in the endless night.

With a renewed sense of determination, you staggered toward the church. Each step felt like an eternity, your legs threatening to give out beneath you. The candles inside seemed to beckon you, their warm light a promise of safety in the darkness.

Finally, you reached the steps of the church. 

You stumbled, nearly falling as your strength gave out, but you managed to catch yourself against the stone. As desperation clawed at your senses, you knocked frantically on the door, hoping against hope that someone inside would hear your plea and grant you safety. A church was a holy ground where no vampire dared to tread, for fear of the searing pain it would bring. 

But as each moment passed without a response, the whispers of the night grew louder.

"Please," you begged, your voice raw with desperation. "Open the door! I'm in danger!"

The urgency in your tone carried the weight of your peril, the fear that gripped your heart driving you to implore for sanctuary within the sacred walls of the church. "I beg of you," you continued, your voice cracking with emotion, "I don't have much time. Please, you have to help me!" 

But as the moments ticked by without a response, the gnawing sense of dread only grew stronger. You could feel the presence of your pursuer drawing nearer, its malevolent intent palpable in the air. Panic threatened to overwhelm you as you realised that time was running out, and the safety of the church remained out of reach.

With one final, desperate plea, you pressed your forehead against the door, your breath coming in ragged gasps. "Please," you whispered, the words barely more than a prayer, "don't let me die out here. Please, open the door."

Just when you feared all hope was lost, the door finally creaked open, a sliver of light cutting through the darkness like a lifeline. With a surge of relief, you stumbled inside, your heart racing with the knowledge that you had narrowly escaped the clutches of your predator.

As the door finally creaked open, a wave of relief washed over you, and you crawled inside, your body trembling with exhaustion and pain. Strong, muscular arms lifted you gently from the cold ground, cradling you in his embrace as you staggered into the warmth of the church. Your head fell back onto the broad chest that held you up, and you let out a shaky sigh.

Your breathing was ragged, your heart pounding, and your mind still reeling from the terrifying encounter. A voice, smooth as silk and seductive, washed over you like a siren's song. "My dear, what happened to you?"

You clung to the figure's robe, your grip tight as you struggled to find the strength to speak. "I... I was attacked," you managed to gasp out, the words coming in a hoarse whisper. "By... a vampire."

A shiver ran down your spine as his hands gently, but firmly, began to examine your wounds with gentle, intimate strokes. The contrast between the cruelty of the vampire's attack and the tender care he was showing you was overwhelming. You could feel his fingers gently tracing over your skin, sending electric shocks of sensation throughout your body.

As you tried to look up at him, your vision blurred and swimming with tears, sweat and blood but you caught a glimpse of his face. Even through the haze of pain and exhaustion, you could see how devilishly handsome he was, with his silver curls framing his strong jaw, and his ruby-like eyes glinting with concern.

Then, the charming priest's expression twisted with regret, and his hand brushed against your cheek, the gentle caress sending shivers to your core. "I'm so sorry, my dear," he murmured, "I should have been here sooner. But you're safe now. Let me take care of you."

His words were a balm to your battered soul, offering comfort in the midst of chaos. You nodded weakly, feeling a sense of gratitude wash over you like a warm tide. Despite the pain that still throbbed in every fibre of your being, you felt a flicker of peace begin to stir within you.

As your head rested against his broad chest, you could feel the rhythmic pulse of his heartbeat, a soothing lullaby that eased your racing mind. His voice, a deep rumble that resonated through his body, washed over you like a comforting wave. His voice, deep and resounding, carried the power of wisdom and experience. 

"My child, you have been through a harrowing ordeal. Your wounds are deep, and the path to recovery will be long. But here, within the sanctity of my church, you will be safe and nurtured."

Your cheeks flushed with a mix of embarrassment and gratitude as you asked, "I’m sorry… Am I... a burden to you?" The vulnerability in your voice was palpable. You hesitated, unsure if you were deserving of such grace, but his smile, gentle and understanding, promised everything you needed at that moment. 

"Quite the opposite, my dear. Your presence is a blessing. I'll do everything in my power to see to your recovery. I will tend to your wounds with the love and compassion that only a servant of God can offer."

Your heart swelled with gratitude, the weight of your tribulations lightening with each syllable of his holy promise. "Thank you, Father," you whispered, your voice a soft caress against his chest. "I trust in your care." His words, paired with the sincere look in his eyes, left you feeling both reassured and oddly drawn to him. You agreed, surrendering to the temptation of his promise, and allowed yourself to settle further into his embrace.

As the priest cradled you in his arms, holding you close like a cherished treasure, the world around you seemed to blur. Your vision wavered, and you clung to him, trusting in the strength of his arms to guide you.

The holy man eased you onto the bed, his strong hands supporting your weight as your legs buckled beneath you. The room was dim, decorated sparingly with candles, books and a desk. You could feel his eyes on you, and when they met yours, they were filled with a devotion that was both comforting and unnerving.

"Lie down, my angel," he instructed gently, his voice a hypnotic purr as he helped you onto the bed. The mattress was soft, enveloping you in its embrace as you settled onto it. Slowly, he began to undress you, his gaze never leaving yours. The flickering candlelight cast dancing shadows on the walls, a soothing dance that contrasted with the rhythm of your heartbeat as you could feel his feather-light touch over your skin.

In a vain effort, you tried to stop him. "N-no," you stuttered, trying to cover yourself with your arms.

The coolness of the room against your heated skin sent shivers down your spine, the sensation electrifying under his watchful gaze. "Don't be afraid, I’ll be gentle," he whispered, his voice a promise of safety. "You are in my care, and I will ensure that you heal."

Seeing your reluctance, he added, "Listen to me," he said softly. "I am only doing this to tend to your wounds and help you heal. You have nothing to fear from me."

Despite your best intentions, you found yourself unable to resist the comfort his words offered. Your defences crumbled, and you allowed him to continue uncovering your body. He unlaced the back of your bra, his fingers grazing your sensitive skin, and gently slid it from your body. The tenderness in his touch sent a flutter through your chest, a sensation that was both foreign and enticing.

Once vulnerable, your nipples hardened in response to his gaze, sensitive buds aching for attention. Your body quivered under his watchful eyes, the heat between your legs growing as you succumbed to the temptation of his nearness. The priest's voice, a melodic rumble, continued to soothe you, his words a balm to your restless spirit.

"This might sting a bit," he warned as he applied a salve to your wounds. The cool, wet sensation was a shock against the warmth of your body, the sting a reminder of your ordeal.

You bit your lip, the pain a small price to pay for the healing touch of this mysterious man. "Thank you," you breathed, your voice a soft exhalation.

With great care, he examined your injuries, his eyes narrowing with concern as he located the worst of them. He murmured prayers under his breath, his voice a soothing lullaby as he tended to your wounds, applying healing salves with a practised hand.

As the priest meticulously cleaned the blood from your body, his fingers gentle yet firm, you could swear you heard the sound of his ragged, heavy breaths. The low, appreciative groan that echoed in the room was indistinct, your mind hazy and dizzied by your injuries.

You clung to the reassuring rhythm of his voice as he continued to soothe you, his words a balm to your aching soul. The priest tended to your wounds with a deft, almost sensual touch but you couldn't tell if it was real or a figment of your imagination, the line between dream and reality blurred.

"You're doing well," he praised, his voice thick. The priest's gaze lingered on your flushed skin, his fingers trailing gently over your body as he worked. "You'll be healed in no time," he said, a low growl that seemed to vibrate through your very core.

You moaned softly as the cool liquid touched your wounds, the sensation both painful and soothing. He placed a gentle hand on your forehead, his touch comforting as he whispered, "Sleep now. Trust in me, and I will make you whole once more. I promise."

His words, his touch, his very presence, enveloped you in a feeling of warmth and safety. You closed your eyes, drifting into the welcoming arms of slumber, your heartbeat slowing as you entrusted your body and soul to the care of the man who had become your saviour, your protector, your guardian.

"Rest now, my sweet Y/n," he said, his voice thick with longing. "I will be here, watching over you, ensuring your safety and your recovery."

In the dim light of the room, the flickering candles casting dancing shadows on the walls, the priest stood over you, his ruby gaze never leaving your form. He whispered more prayers, the soft murmurs a lullaby for your weary spirit as you finally allowed yourself to succumb to sleep. 

‿̩͙‿ ༺ ♰ ༻ ‿̩͙‿

In the hazy realm of your dreams, the pleasure of his touch lingered. As you slept, you could feel a familiar pain in your neck, the sensation of fangs sinking into your skin. But this time, unlike the violent encounter that had brought you to this point, the bite was pleasurable, a sweet agony that coursed through your veins. 

A low moan escaped your lips, your body arching instinctively into the sensation. Your dreams were of lust and desire. The charming priest who saved you was there. He was a predator, a creature of the night, his eyes burning with an insatiable hunger. 

But it was an alluring craving, one that invited you to indulge in your deepest, most primal urges.

 It felt like the devil kissed your neck, but it felt like heaven. His tongue traced the path of his fangs, eliciting a shuddering sigh from your lips, the air thick with the scent of sweat and lust. Your limbs twisted, your body responding to the touch of your saviour, his hands roaming over your skin with a deft expertise. 

His fingers found your breasts, squeezing and teasing your nipples, the sensation a symphony of sensations that echoed through your body. You arched against him, your hips grinding against the hardness that pressed against your thigh. The dream was a carnal feast, his body enveloping yours, a fusion of flesh and desire. 

You could feel the weight of his body pressing against yours, the intoxicating scent of his musk filling your senses. His hands roamed your body, achingly slow, each touch a promise of pleasure that lingered like the echoes of a distant song. Your moans grew louder, punctuating the rhythm of the dream, your body trembling as the pleasure built within you. The line between the dream and reality blurred, the boundaries of consciousness dissolving in the face of the overwhelming sensations…

You jolted awake, your heart pounding in your chest as you found yourself bathed in sweat. The haze of your dreams dissipated, leaving you acutely and painfully aware of your surroundings. Your vision was no longer blurred, and as you blinked, your sensations alighted shamefully on the wetness between your legs.

The feeling startled you, the outrageous state of arousal you found yourself in starkly at odds with the holy ground you now resided in. You couldn't help the flush that crept up your neck, a delicate blush colouring your skin. As your mind raced to comprehend the situation, you noticed the bandages that covered various parts of your body. The night gown you wore was soft, clinging to your skin. It was embroidered with intricate patterns and smelled faintly of fresh flowers, indicating that it has recently been washed. 

Your gaze landed on the priest, who sat at a study, his back to you. The sight of him brought a flurry of questions to the forefront of your mind. "Excuse me?" you called, your voice shaky with uncertainty. "Did you... change my clothes?" Your memory was foggy, the details of the night blurred and indistinct. The vivid dreams of lust and desire, the taste of blood on your lips, and the sensation of pleasure that still lingered in the pit of your stomach left you unsure of what was real and what was not.

The priest turned, his wine gaze meeting yours with a steady, unblinking intensity. "I did," he confirmed, his voice a soothing rumble that seemed to calm the chaos in your mind. "You were in no state to do so yourself, I had to wash your blood and tend your wounds — I wanted to ensure that you were comfortable."

His words were simple, yet they carried with them a weight of authority that left you feeling oddly reassured. Your heart continues to race, the sensation of being so exposed, both physically and emotionally, leaving you vulnerable, yet oddly at ease.

"I... I can't remember much of what happened last night." you said, your voice small as you recalled the shivers of pleasure that had coursed through you at his touch. A vivid image of his long fingers brushing against your skin flashed in her mind, the memory both tempting and terrifying.

As you slowly regained consciousness, you noticed the unfamiliar surroundings. The room was modest, yet warm and inviting, filled with the scent of burning candles and aged wood. You realised you were most likely in his personal quarters, assuming that such a small church wouldn't have many rooms. The bed you lay on was simple but comfortable, covered with a soft, worn quilt that smelled faintly of lavender.

Your shyness crept back into your demeanour as you asked, "Father, where did you... stay for the night? Where did you sleep?" Your voice held a curious inflection, a hint of fluster in your tone.

The enigmatic priest, sensing your discomfort, couldn't resist teasing you with a sly smile. "A good priest never sleeps when there's a soul in need," he replied, his voice a silky rumble that sent shivers down your spine. "I stayed awake the whole night, ensuring that you didn't experience any pain," he confessed, his eyes never leaving yours. "Your well-being was… my top priority."

As you settled back into the bed, the priest moved closer, kneeling at your side. "I realise I haven't properly introduced myself," he said with a slight bow of his head. "My name is Astarion."

You nodded weakly, offering a faint smile despite the pain that still throbbed through your body. "I'm Y/n," you replied, your voice soft but steady.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Y/n, despite the circumstances," Astarion said, his tone gentle.

As you spoke, a sharp, faint pain in your neck caused you to wince. Instinctively, you raised your hand to the spot, fingers brushing over the tender skin. You felt the unmistakable indentation of bite marks and a shiver of unease ran down your spine. You didn't remember the vampire biting you there yesterday. The memory of the attack was vivid—how you had fought back, the searing pain of its fangs in your side—but the neck was new.

Astarion noticed your discomfort immediately. "What is it?" he asked, concern flashing in his crimson eyes.

"There are... bite marks on my neck," you said, your voice trembling slightly. "I don't remember the vampire biting me there."

Astarion's gaze softened with empathy, and he placed a reassuring hand on your cheek. "The vampire that attacked you was relentless. In your weakened state, it is possible that it struck more than once, leaving marks you weren't aware of at the time."

His explanation made sense, yet something about it left you uneasy. The way he spoke, the intensity of his gaze—it all seemed so personal, so intimate—seductive. But as you looked into his eyes, you found a strange comfort, a sense of safety that you hadn't felt since the attack, it felt nice.

"Try not to worry," Astarion continued, his voice soothing. "You're safe now. The wounds will heal with time, and I will ensure you are well cared for."

You nodded, trying to relax despite the lingering fear. "Thank you, Astarion. I don't know what I would have done without your help."

Astarion's smile was warm, almost tender. "It's my duty, Y/n. Now, rest. You need to regain your strength."

Astarion’s soothing voice continued to fill the room, a gentle murmur that seemed to lull the very air around you. “Rest now, Y/n,” he whispered again, his tone carrying a warmth that seeped into your bones. “You’re safe here. Let your body heal.”

His hand reached out, fingers brushing lightly against your forehead before trailing down to caress your hair. Each gentle stroke seemed to ease the tension in your muscles, coaxing you further into the embrace of sleep. “You’ve been through so much,” Astarion continued, his voice a melodic hum that wrapped around you like a comforting blanket. “But you’re strong. You’ve survived, and now it’s time to rest again, angel.”

Your eyes fluttered closed, the steady rhythm of his voice and the gentle touch of his hand lulling you. The pain and fear began to melt away, replaced by a profound sense of peace. 

“Let go of your worries,” he whispered, his fingers continuing their soothing path through your hair. “I’ll be here, watching over you.”

The last thing you felt before sleep claimed you entirely was the warmth of his hand, the tender way he cared for you, and the deep, calming presence of his voice. In that moment, as consciousness slipped away, you knew that whatever questions and fears still lingered, you could face them later. For now, in the sanctuary of the church and the comfort of Astarion’s care, you allowed yourself to finally rest.

‿̩͙‿ ༺ ♰ ༻ ‿̩͙‿

Days had passed since that harrowing night, and you had been secluded in the church, healing under Astarion's watchful care. Your strength has gradually returned, allowing you to move around more freely. This morning, as the sun filtered through the stained glass windows, casting colourful patterns on the stone floor, Astarion invited you to take your breakfast outside.

The church's cloister, a serene, partially shaded courtyard, became your dining area. While you basked in the sunlight, feeling its warmth seep into your skin, Astarion, however, always remained in the shadows, moving with an uncanny grace that kept him perpetually out of the sun’s reach.

As you savoured the simple breakfast, your mind began to piece together the puzzle that had been forming since your arrival. It was easy for a good vampire hunter to notice the signs. The fangs that sometimes glinted in Astarion's mouth when he spoke and smirked, the way he meticulously avoided sunlight, and the fact that you had never seen him eat. It all pointed to one unmistakable truth: Astarion was a vampire.

Your heart pounded as the realisation settled in, mingling with the fresh morning air. You glanced at him, standing elegantly in the shadow of the cloister, his hand behind his back. His red eyes watched you with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine. Yet, despite the fear gnawing at your insides, you knew one thing for certain: you were trapped. Your injuries, though healing, still left you weak. 

There was no way you could fight or escape him in your current state.

Astarion's voice broke through your thoughts, smooth and soothing as always. "How are you feeling today, Y/n?" he asked, a genuine concern in his tone that made your situation all the more confusing.

"I'm feeling better," you replied, forcing a small smile. "Thank you for taking such good care of me."

He inclined his head gracefully. "It's my duty to ensure your recovery. I'm glad to see you improving."

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves. "You never join me for breakfast," you said, your voice casual despite the tension coiling within you. "Aren't you hungry?"

Astarion's lips curved into a faint, charming smile. "I have my own ways of sustaining myself. Your well-being is my priority." There was something unnerving about his answer, the implication that his nourishment differed from the conventional. The way he focused on you, though endearing, you knew bordered on possessiveness.

You shifted slightly in your seat, the movement causing a dull ache to flare up in your side. Astarion noticed and stepped closer, still within the shadows, his expression one of concern.

"Are you in pain?" he asked, his voice softening.

"A little," you admitted. "But I'll manage."

He nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. As you sat there, the sunlight warming your skin while Astarion remain cloaked in shadow, you couldn't shake the feeling that Astarion, with his devilish good looks and soothing voice, was both your caretaker and your captor.

For now, you had to play along, especially as Astarion continued to care for you, providing you with food and shelter. He was attentive, almost doting, ensuring that you were comfortable and your needs were met. Each day, he brought you meals, fresh linens, and soothing herbal teas.

Despite your growing suspicions, you couldn’t deny the care he provided. Every bandage was changed with meticulous precision, every meal prepared with consideration for your weakened state. And so, you allowed Astarion’s gentle care to soothe your wounds, both physical and emotional, all the while preparing for the inevitable moment when you would have to face him for what he truly was.

Astarion's eyes softened as he regarded you, his voice a velvety whisper. "You must let me know if the pain worsens, angel. I cannot bear to see you suffer." He whispered, the endearment—now quite familiar, sending a jolt of pleasure through you. His hand reached out, his fingers brushing gently against your cheek, sending shivers down your spine. The contact was brief but electrifying, igniting a desire within you that you couldn't quite comprehend or control.

Your heartbeat quickened as he withdrew his hand, stepping back into the shadows, a wicked glint in his eye. 

"Now, eat up. You need your strength for later." The coded suggestion in his tone left you breathless, your mind racing with possibilities as to what 'later' could entail. The way Astarion spoke, his voice dripping with innuendo, only served to heighten the growing tension between you. It was all so forbidden. 

You hesitated, your breath catching in your throat as his fingers traced along your jawline. The subtle flirting, combined with his intimate care, blurred the lines between priest and enemy, leaving you both vulnerable and enticed. "I... I don't want to trouble you," you stammered, though your body betrayed your words, craving his touch and the comfort he offered.

Astarion smiled, his hand still resting on your cheek, his thumb grazing your bottom lip. "It's no trouble at all, Y/n. You needn't worry about anything but your recovery."

You wanted to believe Astarion wasn't a danger, even less a vampire. His gentle hands and soothing words made you feel safe. Every interaction with him felt like a contradiction, a dissonance between what you knew and what you wanted to believe.

‿̩͙‿ ༺ ♰ ༻ ‿̩͙‿

As the days turned into weeks, your strength gradually returned. The deep wounds had healed to a dull ache, and the fog of pain that once clouded your mind began to lift. You and Astarion fell into a comfortable routine, each day a mirror of the last. You would wake up each morning to the soft sounds of quill on parchment, finding Astarion at his study desk, deep in thought as he wrote.

“Good morning,” he would greet you, his voice smooth and pleasant, as he set aside his work. 

The deep wounds might have healed, however, the bite marks on your neck remained stubbornly fresh. Alongside these wounds, vivid and intense dreams continued to plague your nights. Dreams filled with lust and desire, so real that you could almost feel the touch of hands on your skin, the press of lips against yours. Each morning you awoke feeling drained, a sore feeling between your legs, and a throbbing ache where the bite marks were. But you kept that all to yourself, far too embarrassed. 

He would then prepare breakfast, guiding you to the garden where you could bask in the sunlight. Astarion would remain in the shadows, his elegant form always just out of reach of the sunlight. He would watch over you as you ate, his presence a silent reassurance. After breakfast, he would excuse himself, his voice tinged with the same gentle concern as always. 

“I have some matters to attend to,” he would say, disappearing into the depths of the church. You assumed he went to sleep, retreating to whatever secret place he kept from the daylight.

Left to your own devices, you found solace in the books that lined the shelves. Despite the church's modest library, you read about heroes and history, getting lost in the words. On days when reading felt too isolating, you tidied the church, arranged flowers, and dusted pews, even though no one ever came to attend his services.

Lunch was a simple affair that you prepared for only you — the act of cooking gave you a sense of purpose, a small way to contribute to the strange sanctuary you now called home.

Astarion would return in the late afternoon. You would eat dinner in the kitchen, the soft light of the candles casting long shadows on the stone walls as he watched over you. Conversation flowed easily, your guardedness slowly eroding as the days passed. He would listen intently to your thoughts, his eyes never straying from yours, making you feel seen and heard in a way that was both comforting and unsettling.

As the night closed in, you'd meet him in the bathroom, where Astarion would await, his eyes fixed on you with a hint of intensity that sent shivers down your spine. He would offer you a small stool to sit on, allowing you the space to undress in his presence. At first, the act of exposing your body to him, an unfamiliar stranger only a short while ago, left you bashful and flushed. Your fingers fumbled with buttons and laces, your gaze darting to the ground, averted from his unwavering gaze.

Astarion, however, seemed unfazed by your hesitation, his attention solely focused on you, his eyes drinking in the sight of your exposed skin. The feeling of being so intimately observed, of your vulnerability laid bare, was both forbidden and intimate, a tug-of-war between modesty and desire.

The first time you squirmed under Astarion's touch, he chuckled softly, the sound rumbling deep in his chest. "You'll have to stand still, Y/n," he teased, his voice low and husky. "You're making it difficult for me to tend to your wounds." Your cheeks flushed at his teasing. He looked at you with a hot gaze as he leaned closer, his breath washing over your skin, whispering, "If you're concerned about my touch, I can show you what happens when you're more willing to submit."

You were left breathless, and he seemed content with your reaction based on his prideful smirk. You swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your ears. "No-No I’m okay... I do trust you, Astarion," you stammered, your voice barely audible.

Astarion smiled, his thumb brushing against your bottom lip. "Then stand still, my angel," he coaxed, the pet name laced with tenderness. "Let me take care of you as you deserve."

As the days passed, though, the discomfort ebbed away. Astarion's gentle demeanour and the necessity of your healing fostered a sense of genuine trust between the two of you. Astarion's methodical approach to cleaning your body was as deliberate as it was unhurried. He would begin by wetting a soft cloth with warm water, the liquid shimmering as it caught the light. The scent of herbs and flowers wafted from the basin.

With the cloth in hand, Astarion would then gently wipe away the grime and sweat from your body. His fingers traced the contours of your form, the arch of your waist, the curve of your breast, the slope of your hip, and the dip of your lower back. He moved with a tender dexterity, each stroke a promise of care, an unspoken vow to protect and heal.

As he worked, the fabric slid over your skin, leaving a trail of dampness that soon dried under the influence of the air. The sensation of being washed, of being cleansed by Astarion's skilled hands, was both intimate and comforting, the touch of his fingers electrifying your body.

Astarion's fingers lingered so subtly on your nipples, brushing them gently. "So sensitive, aren't we?" he mused, his gaze flicking to your face. He trailed the cloth down to your inner thigh, the tip brushing against your most intimate parts. "Such a delightful creature you are, my angel," he remarked, his voice laced with desire. 

"I relish in the privilege of tending to you." He looked up at you through his lashes, his voice low and teasing.

Your heart would race as his hands lingered on sensitive spots, the tips of his fingers brushing against your nipples or the inner folds of your thighs—just enough to be appropriate, but still exciting. The moments of intimate contact were fleeting, yet they stirred a hunger deep within you.

The way he examined your wounds, the way his eyes lingered on your flushed skin, painted a picture of a man who was devoted to the healing of your body and the nurturing of your spirit. It was a dance of necessity and desire, leaving you in a dangerous but exciting situation.

As the evening sun cast long shadows across the kitchen as you and Astarion sat down to dinner, it was another one of those days. The room was filled with a comfortable silence, broken only by the clinking of utensils and the soft crackle of the fire in the hearth. Astarion watched you intently, his red eyes shimmering in the dim light.

As you took a bite of food, he spoke, his voice low and contemplative. "Y/n, may I ask you something?"

You looked up, meeting his gaze with a slight nod. "Of course, Astarion. What is it?"

"Why did you become a vampire hunter?" he asked, his tone gentle yet probing.

You paused, your fork halfway to your mouth, as memories of the past flooded your mind. "It's because of my family," you began, your voice tinged with sadness. "They were killed by a vampire when I was young. I was left with nothing, no home, no family. I had to fend for myself."

Astarion's expression softened, a flicker of understanding in his eyes. "I'm sorry for your loss," he murmured.

You nodded, a bitter taste lingering in your mouth. "At first, I became a vampire hunter out of necessity. I needed to survive, to seek revenge for what happened to my family. But as time went on, it became more than that. It became a way for me to protect others, to prevent anyone else from suffering the same fate."

Astarion listened quietly as you spoke, his gaze never leaving yours. "It's a difficult path you've chosen," he remarked, his voice soft. "To carry such a burden, to face danger at every turn."

You nodded, the weight of your past pressing down on you like a leaden shroud. "It hasn't been easy," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "But I couldn't do anything else. I couldn't just stand by and do nothing." A silence settled over the kitchen, heavy with unspoken thoughts and emotions. 

"I understand," he said finally, his voice filled with quiet sincerity. "You've endured so much, my angel." Then Astarion's eyes narrowed, his mind wandering as he mused. "Vampires are often seen as monsters, creatures of the night that feed on the blood of the innocent," he began, his voice laced with a hint of bitterness. "But are they truly any different from those who hunt them? They do what they must to survive, to maintain their existence. They are not inherently evil, merely misunderstood."

He met your gaze, his expression earnest. "In their quest for sustenance, there are some who stray, who forget the cost of their actions. But all beings are capable of good or evil, it's a choice we make, not a preordained path.” Astarion shifted, leaning back in his chair. "You, my dear, have chosen a path of justice, fueled by loss and a desire to protect. Your heart is in the right place, and that is something to be admired."

Astarion reached out, his fingers brushing against yours, sending shivers down your spine. "Do not be so quick to judge, to condemn those you do not understand," he urged, drawing closer. "For in doing so, you may miss the beauty of the beast, the soul that lies beneath the surface."

He put his hand on the table covering yours as his thumb caressed your knuckles. The simple touch showed he could seduce you so easily. It was a devilish whisper that made you question your beliefs. 

After a brief silence, Astarion's eyes glimmered with a mischievous light as he reached for a bottle of wine and two glasses. "Would you care for some wine, Y/n? I find it has a way of easing troubled thoughts."

As Astarion stood, he moved gracefully towards the wooden cabinet in the corner of the room. With a skillful flick of his wrist, he opened the door and withdrew a decanter filled with a deep, ruby-red liquid. "Allow me to offer you a glass of wine," he said, his voice a low, sultry rumble.

He approached you with the decanter, his eyes locked on yours. "A little something that's sure to help you unwind after your ordeal," he suggested, his words laced with a flirtatious undertone.

As he poured the crimson liquid into two crystal glasses, the light from the fireplace casting dancing shadows on the walls, Astarion's charm seemed to weave a spell around you. The room grew warmer, more intimate, the soft flicker of the flames a testament to the growing intimacy between the two of you.

You nodded, grateful for the distraction. As he sat back down, he moved closer to you. He handed you a glass, his fingers brushing yours in a way that sent a shiver down your spine. "To new friends and shared stories," he toasted, his smile warm and inviting.

"To new friends," you echoed, clinking your glass against his and taking a sip. The wine was rich and smooth, its warmth spreading through you.

As he leaned back, he couldn't help but brush his arm against yours, the spark of arousal igniting between you. "Strength, resilience, and determination are traits to be admired," he said, his voice a sultry, velvet-coated whisper. "And they become all the more enticing when wrapped in a package as enchanting as yours, Y/n."

You felt the heat rise to your cheeks, the blush a testament to his words. "Thank you, Astarion. It's been an arduous journey, but I suppose it's made me who I am today."

His gaze never wavered, and he leaned in closer, the firelight casting shadows that danced on his chiselled features. "And that, my dear Y/n, is a woman I would gladly be drawn to. You possess a radiance that's as alluring as it is dangerous."

You felt your heart race at his words, the intensity of his gaze making it difficult to think clearly. "You have a way with words, Astarion. It’s quite... disarming."

He chuckled softly, his smile widening. "I've been told that before. But enough about me flattering you. Tell me, Y/n, how did you come here? Were you hunting a specific vampire?"

You nodded, taking another sip of wine to steady yourself. "Yes, I had heard rumours of a powerful vampire terrorising the nearby villages. I thought I might be able to do some good here, to put my skills to use."

Astarion's eyes flickered with interest. "And instead, you found yourself in need of sanctuary."

"Yes," you said, the memories of that night still fresh in your mind. "But I suppose fate had other plans."

He smiled, a hint of something darker lurking beneath the surface. "Indeed, fate can be quite unpredictable."

You shifted in your seat, your curiosity piqued. "Astarion, you’ve been so kind to me, but I realise I know very little about you. Why did you become a priest?" The question hung heavy in the air, the weight of its implications a daunting shadow in the room.

Astarion's eyes darkened, a flicker of pain crossing his features. "A priest," he mused, his voice laced with a heavy sense of regret. A shadow crossed his face, his smile fading slightly. "Ah, that's a story for another time," he said, his tone vague. "It's a lonely path, one fraught with self-imposed torment. It's a form of penance, a never-ending punishment for sins long committed."

Your brows furrowed in confusion. "Punishment? For what?"

He waved a hand dismissively, the charming smile returning to his lips. "We all have our sins to atone for, don't we? Some of us more than others." He placed his hand back on yours, his touch was soothing.

After a moment, Astarion's gaze grew distant. "To partially answer your question, Y/n, one must first understand the nature of a priest's vow. Chastity, piety, and dedication to a higher power. It is a life of self-denial, of sacrificing one's personal desires for a greater cause," he began, his voice heavy with the weight of his past.

"In my case, my path to the priesthood was not driven by divine inspiration, but by a profound need to purge the darkness within me. The sins I've committed run deep, and the road to redemption is a long and arduous one."

His smile, when it returned, was tinged with sadness, a bittersweet acknowledgment of the life he once led. "In essence, I chose this path as my penance, as a way to atone for the transgressions of my past. The harsh discipline and chastity I adhere to are a constant reminder of the price I must pay for the sins I've committed."

The intensity of the moment weighed heavily on the air as you digested his words. The sincerity in his confession was palpable, a testament to the internal struggle that plagued him. "I'm sorry, Astarion, for your suffering," you offered, your fingers intertwining with his, to offer a reassuring touch. "But perhaps, in your service and devotion, you have already found some measure of redemption."

The fire crackled, its dance casting shadows on the walls as Astarion's eyes darkened, the intensity in his gaze growing. "But, I must admit my angel, that since your arrival, I've found it increasingly difficult to keep my distance, to not succumb to the forbidden desires that once consumed me," he admitted, his voice thick..

You felt a shiver run down your spine, a mixture of fear and anticipation. Trying to maintain your composure, you played innocent, your voice trembling slightly. "I don't understand what you're implying, Father."

He chuckled softly, a dark, knowing smile spreading across his lips. "Oh, but you do, my dear. How can you pretend to judge what is good and bad when you've lived such a sheltered life? How can you truly know grace if you’ve never tasted sin?" His words hung heavy in the air, laden with implication. 

You tried to deny the accusation, shaking your head. "I don’t know what you’re talking about."

Astarion’s eyes gleamed with a dangerous light as he leaned even closer, his breath brushing against your skin. "Your soul is too pure, too untouched by the world to understand. You’ve spent your life fighting monsters, but you’ve never truly faced the darkness within yourself."

Your heart raced, his proximity and intensity making it hard to breathe. "What are you saying?" you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Astarion reached out, his fingers gently tracing the line of your jaw, sending a jolt of electricity through you. "I’m saying, Y/n, that you’ve been living in a world of black and white, of good and evil. But life is far more complex than that, and you’re so young... To truly understand grace, you must also understand sin."

His fingers moved to your neck, brushing over the bite marks he had left, a reminder of his power over you. "I saw it in your actions," he continued, his voice a soft, seductive whisper. "When I was cleaning you, taking care of you, I saw how innocent you were, how… untouched."

You shivered under his touch, the mixture of fear and something darker swirling within you. "How can you pretend to judge what is good and bad, what is pure and tainted, when you yourself have never truly tasted the depths of desire and temptation?" He leaned in closer, his breath warm against your skin. "You must experience the temptations that pull at your soul, the desires that make you human," he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear. "Only then can you truly understand what it means to be alive, to be whole."

You tried to pull away, but his grip on you tightened, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made it impossible to look away. "You cannot know true grace without first experiencing sin," he whispered, his voice a hypnotic cadence that drew you in despite your fear. 

"You cannot know the light without first embracing the darkness."

Astarion's words wrapped around you like a silken web, his touch igniting a fire within you that you had never felt before. You hated yourself for the way your body responded, for the way your heart raced and your breath quickened at his proximity. "How can you understand the beauty of purity if you’ve never been tainted?" he asked, his voice a seductive purr. 

"How can you know the strength of virtue if you’ve never faced the allure of vice?"

You swallowed hard, your mind reeling from his words. "And you think you can show me this… complexity?"

“If you trust me,” Astarion's smile was both predator and enticing. "Yes, I know I can. Let me guide you, angel. Let me show you what it means to embrace both the light and the darkness."

His words were a dangerous lure, pulling you towards an abyss you had never dared to explore before and with anyone else. Despite your instincts screaming at you to resist, a part of you was undeniably drawn to him, to the promise of forbidden knowledge and the thrill of the unknown.

"I…" you hesitated, your voice faltering.

Astarion’s hand slipped from your jaw to the back of your neck, his touch firm yet gentle. "Trust me," he murmured, his voice a silken whisper that seemed to wrap around your very soul. "Let me show you what it means to truly live." And in that moment, as Astarion’s eyes held yours, you realised that the lines between good and evil, grace and sin, were not as clear as you had once believed.

He had the face of an angel. 

But devil thoughts. 

Astarion's gaze softened, though the intensity in his eyes remained. He took your hand in his, his touch warm and reassuring. Your breath caught as he gently tugged you to your feet. The touch of his hand was both comforting and electrifying, as he led you through the dimly lit church. 

You followed Astarion down a narrow, spiralling staircase that led to the church's basement— you never dared to wander there before, it was all so new and overwhelming. The air grew cooler, and the faint scent of incense and aged wood filled your nostrils. At the bottom of the staircase, Astarion paused before a heavy wooden door.

He glanced at you, a devilish smile playing on his lips. "What you are about to see is a sanctuary, a place hidden from the world. It is where I find solace and where you might begin to understand the complexities of grace and sin." He pushed the door open, revealing a hidden sanctuary. 

The room was illuminated by soft, golden light from numerous candles placed strategically around the space. The walls were lined with bookshelves filled with ancient tomes and artefacts. In the centre of the room was an ornate altar, adorned with intricate carvings and symbols that seemed to pulse with a faint, otherworldly glow.

Astarion led you inside, his hand never leaving yours. He guided you to the altar, his movements graceful and deliberate. "This," he said, his voice a hushed whisper, "is where I seek redemption, where I grapple with the darkness within me and strive to find the light."

Astarion's fingers intertwined with yours, his touch a comforting anchor in the swirling uncertainty. "Come, my angel," he said gently, guiding you towards the heart of the chamber.

You looked around, taking in the sacredness of the space. It was unlike any church you had ever seen—and for the time, you wondered if he was a real priest. "It's... beautiful," you whispered, your voice filled with awe.

Astarion smirked, his eyes lingering on the curve of your lips as you spoke. He stepped closer, his body pressing against yours, forcing you to lean back against the cold, hard surface of the altar. You could feel his arousal, a throbbing, insistent pressure against your thigh. "Grace," he murmured, his breath hot against your ear. "It's not just a matter of beauty, my angel. True grace is about balance, control, and submission. It's about becoming one with the divine, surrendering to the sacredness of all that is."

As he spoke, his hand slid up your thigh, his fingers teasingly close to the hem of your nightgown. You felt your breath catch in your throat, your nipples hardening under the weight of his gaze. "Let me teach you," he whispered, his voice now tinged with desire. "Let me show you the beauty and power of true grace."

With that, he hooked his fingers beneath the hem of the fabric, tugging it up your legs. The cold air of the sanctuary brushed against your sensitive, exposed flesh. You couldn't help but squirm, your thighs parting instinctively, aching for him to fill the emptiness between them.

Astarion's fingers trailed along the curve of your hip, then lower, over the tender skin of your inner thigh. They danced closer to the dampness between your folds, your hips arching to meet his touch. He smirked, his eyes darkened with lust. "You crave it, don't you?" he whispered, his voice a growl. 

"You crave knowledge and pleasure?" You nodded, your voice caught in your throat. Astarion chuckled softly, a wicked, predatory sound. "Then let us begin your education, my angel."

Astarion's lips trailed down your throat, leaving a trail of soft, wet kisses, his tongue flicking across the sensitive skin. His hands roamed over your body, cupping your breasts, weighing them in his palms.

You gasped as his teeth nipped at your tender neck, his tongue teasing your nipples through the thin fabric of your nightgown. Slowly, he unbuttoned the garment, letting it fall to the floor, throwing it aside to unveil your swollen, erect nipples. He leaned in, his hot breath making you shiver, before taking one of your nipples into his mouth. His eager tongue flicked over and around it, his lips sucking gently. 

You arched your back, your fingers twisting in his silver hair, tugging him closer.

Astarion's hand slipped over your thigh and up to your damp panties. He pushed them aside, letting his fingers graze over your clit, making you moan. His mouth latched onto your other nipple, the dual sensations sending jolts of pleasure through your body.

He lifted you, and Astarion's eyes were dark, hungry, as he stared at the glistening wetness between your legs.

"You are exquisite," he whispered, his voice thick with desire. "You are the embodiment of grace and beauty, and I am honoured to worship you." He laid you down on the cold, hard surface of the altar, your breath hitching at the suddenness of the move. Astarion's gaze never left you as he positioned himself between your thighs.

Lowering his head, he inhaled deeply, his nostrils flaring as he took in your arousal. He ran his tongue along the seam of your folds, making you arch off the altar. He continued to tease and taste you, flicking his tongue against your clit, eliciting a choked moan from you.

"Oh, gods," you panted, your fingers now gripping the cloth of the altar. 

“There are no gods here,” Astarion smiled against your wetness, his fingers teasingly circling your entrance. "But you taste divine," he purred, his voice muffled by your folds. He dipped a finger inside you, curling it to find your sensitive spot. You cried out as the sensation overwhelmed you, your hips bucking against his hand.

Astarion continued to lavish attention on you, his tongue and fingers working in unison to bring you to the edge of ecstasy. You writhed beneath him, your body a mass of trembling desire.

You moaned, the sensation of Astarion's mouth and fingers driving you wild. "This, this is forbidden," you whimpered, your voice hoarse.

Astarion's eyes gleamed, his mouth a wicked grin as he continued his ministrations. "The forbidden is where the true pleasure lies," he whispered, his fingers flicking against your clit in just the right spot. 

Astarion's skilled mouth and fingers worked in perfect unison, his lips and tongue worshipping you, coaxing you to the precipice before pulling you back, over and over. His grip on your hips tightened, leaving a red mark behind, his sharp teeth nipping at your inner thigh, driving you to the edge of madness.

And then, with a final, fervent thrust of his fingers and fierce suction on your clit, he sent you careening over the edge, your body shuddering, your breath coming in ragged gasps. Astarion licked the last of your juices from his lips, his eyes gleaming with victory and desire.

"You've embraced the first lesson, angel. Now let's move on to the next one." He pulled you towards him, his lips crashing against yours in a bruising, possessive kiss, his tongue seeking entry. As you fought for breath, Astarion's hands found their way to the buttons of his trousers, releasing his throbbing, erect cock.

"You'll learn to worship me, just like I worship you — to take me into your mouth and guide me deep within your sweet, tight cunt," he breathed against your lips. "You'll learn to obey, to serve, and to find joy in the power you give and receive." With a forceful tug, he pulled you to your knees, staring down at you with a mixture of lust and expectation. You gazed up at him, meeting his lustful gaze, your heart pounding in your chest. 

You looked down at Astarion's erect cock, unsure of what to do. "I-I've never... done this before," you confessed, your voice small and hesitant.

Astarion's lips curved into a wicked smile. "You'll learn, angel," he said softly, his hand cupping the back of your head, guiding you forward. "Just as you've learned to embrace the divine, you'll learn to embrace the carnal."

You tentatively reached out, your fingers wrapping around the base of his cock. The heat radiated from his shaft, the veins pulsing beneath your touch. You hesitated, your eyes flicking up to his, seeking guidance. Astarion placed his hand on the back of your head, gently guiding you closer, your lips brushing against the head of his cock. He gave you a nod, urging you to take him into your mouth.

Gingerly, you parted your lips, sliding your mouth over the head of his cock. A salty, musky taste filled your mouth, and you hesitated, your eyes widening.

"Don't be afraid," Astarion cooed, his voice low and soothing. "Savour it. Worship it."

With a deep breath, you took him deeper, your tongue flicking over the sensitive underside. You felt Astarion's hand tighten in your hair, his breath catching. He guided you, his fingers gently urging you to move in a rhythm that felt natural, your mouth swallowing and releasing his cock, your tongue exploring every inch. Astarion's eyes closed, his head falling back, a low, guttural groan escaping his lips.

Your hands slid up his thighs, squeezing and kneading the muscles as you continued to worship him with your mouth. Astarion's hips began to move in time with your motions, his breaths coming in ragged gasps.

He was your teacher, your guide, showing you the art of submission and worship. You embraced it, your body eager to learn, to follow the path that Astarion laid before you. As you continued to pleasure him with your mouth, Astarion's grip in your hair tightened, the sound of his ragged breaths growing louder. You knew you were bringing him closer to release—and it felt… satisfying.

And with a low, guttural moan, Astarion came, his hot seed filling your mouth. Your eyes widened, unsure of how to handle it, but Astarion's hand cupped the back of your head, gently encouraging you to swallow, to accept the gift he offered you. You did as he commanded, your body learning this new form of submission, this new kind of divine pleasure. 

Astarion's eyes met yours, his face flushed with pleasure. "A beautiful first time, angel," he praised, his voice thick with satisfaction. He pulled you to your feet, his cock still glistening with your saliva. Astarion's hands gently cupped your face, his eyes filled with a mix of desire and concern. "Tonight, you've learned much," he said softly, his voice a low rumble. "It's time to rest, to let your wounded body heal and regain its strength."

He pulled you into his arms, the warmth enveloping you, his solid form a comforting presence. "We'll continue our lessons tomorrow," he promised, his lips brushing against your temple in a tender kiss as he pulled your nightgown back over your body and put his clothes back on with one hand. 

Astarion guided you from the altar, his strength evident as he carried you up the stairs to the bedroom. He laid you down gently on the soft bed, the silk sheets cool against your heated skin. He adjusted the covers, tucking them around you, making sure you were comfortable. Once you were settled, Astarion straightened, his ruby eyes meeting yours. "Sleep well, Y/n," he said, his voice a seductive purr.

You couldn't help but shiver at the sound of his voice. "Thank you, Astarion," you murmured, your eyes heavy with fatigue.

He brushed a lock of hair from your face, his fingers lingering on your cheek. "You are safe here," he assured you, his touch both soothing and electrifying. "Tomorrow, we will continue our journey."

Your heart fluttered at his words, the promise of more to come both thrilling and daunting. "Astarion," you said softly, catching his hand as he moved to turn away. "Why are you doing all this for me?"

He paused, his eyes darkening with a mixture of emotions. "Because, angel, you have a light within you that is rare. It is something worth protecting, worth nurturing." He leaned closer, his breath warm against your skin. 

Your grip on his hand tightened, a sense of trust and connection forming between you. "I hope you're right," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

He smiled, a genuine warmth in his eyes. "I am," he said confidently. "Now rest. You need your strength."

You nodded, releasing his hand reluctantly. As Astarion turned away, you couldn't help but feel a pang of longing, a desire to keep him close. "Goodnight, Astarion," you said, your voice tinged with a mixture of gratitude and yearning.

He glanced back at you, his smile softening. "Goodnight, Y/n," he replied, his tone gentle. With a final lingering look, he left the room, closing the door softly behind him, leaving you alone in the darkness.

You closed your eyes, your body exhausted but content. The events of the night played over in your mind, the promise of Astarion's guidance and protection a comforting thought. As you drifted off to sleep, your dreams were filled with images of the sanctuary, of Astarion's intense gaze and his soothing touch. 

‿̩͙‿ ༺ ♰ ༻ ‿̩͙‿

The morning light filtered through the small window of the bedroom, casting a soft glow across the room. You stirred, the ache in your neck pulling you from sleep. As you shifted under the covers, a sharp pain shot through your neck, causing you to wince. The memories of the previous night flooded back, and the sensations that had seemed so intoxicating now felt like poison seeping through your veins.

You reached up, gingerly touching the bite marks on your neck. They were tender, the skin around them inflamed and sore. A sense of unease settled over you as you realised they weren’t healing as they should. The implications hit you like a cold wave, and a chill ran down your spine.

Unable to deny the truth any longer, you understood why: Astarion was using you. He was feeding on you, causing your strength to fade away each night, slowly but surely leading you towards death.

You forced yourself out of bed, every movement a painful reminder of what had transpired. You made your way to the small mirror hanging on the wall, examining the bite marks with a critical eye. 

Your mind raced as you tried to come to terms with the revelation. How could you have been so blind? The signs had been there all along, but you had ignored them, lulled by his charm and the sense of safety he provided. You felt a mix of anger and despair, the reality of your situation crashing down on you.

Determined not to fall into despair, you knew you had to confront Astarion. You couldn’t continue to let him feed on you, to let him drain your life away. Gathering your courage, and with a heavy heart, you made your way to the kitchen. The weight of the knife in your hand felt foreign, its cool metal sending a shiver down your spine. You hesitated for a moment, the blade glinting in the soft light of the room.

Taking a deep breath, you steeled yourself for what was to come. Gripping the knife tightly, you hid it behind your back as you made your way back to the garden. You found Astarion in the garden, standing in the shadows of the cloister as usual, reading his book. He looked up as you approached, a smile playing on his lips. "Good morning, Y/n," he greeted, his voice as smooth as ever. 

"Did you sleep well?"

You didn’t return his smile, your expression serious. "Astarion, we need to talk."

He raised an eyebrow, a hint of curiosity in his eyes. "Oh? About what?"

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself. "About this," you said, pointing to the bite marks on your neck. "About what you’ve been doing to me."

His smile faded, replaced by a look of mild concern. "Y/n, you’re still recovering. Those wounds will heal in time."

"No, they won’t," you countered, your voice trembling with anger. "They’re not healing because you’re feeding on me. You’re draining my life away."

Astarion sighed, a hint of resignation in his eyes. "I suppose the truth was bound to come out eventually."

You felt a surge of anger. "Why? Why are you doing this to me?"

He looked at you, his expression a mixture of regret and something darker. "Because I need to survive, Y/n. And you... you were convenient."

“Convenient?!” His words cut deep, a mixture of betrayal and heartbreak washing over you. "I trusted you," you whispered, your voice breaking, tears threatening to fall. "I thought you were helping me."

Astarion's gaze softened slightly, a hint of remorse in his eyes. "I am helping you, Y/n. In my own way. You’ve learned a lot, haven’t you? About the world, about yourself."

"At what cost?" you demanded, your voice rising. "My life? My humanity?" With a swift motion, you brought the knife out from behind your back, the blade catching the light as it gleamed in the dim garden. "If I have to," you said, your voice trembling with anger and resolve, "I'll use this to protect myself."

Astarion's smirk faltered for a moment, replaced by a flicker of surprise. But then, to your dismay, it transformed into a knowing grin. "Ah, I see," he said, his tone mocking. "So it's come to this, has it? My, my, you really are full of surprises, my angel."

You held the knife out in front of you, your hand steady despite the turmoil raging within you. "Don't test me, Astarion," you warned, your voice firm. "I won't hesitate to use this if I have to."

He tilted his head to the side, studying you with a mix of amusement and curiosity. "And what do you intend to accomplish with that little toy?" he said, his tone taunting. "Do you honestly think you can threaten me with such a thing?"

You felt a surge of frustration at his dismissive attitude, but you refused to let it shake your resolve. "I'll do whatever it takes to protect myself," you repeated, your voice growing more determined with each word.

Astarion stepped closer, the smirk never leaving his lips. "Oh, come now, Y/n," he said, his voice laced with amusement. "Are you flirting with me?"

You recoiled, taken aback by his cavalier response. "This is not a joke, Astarion," you said, your grip on the knife tightening. "You’ve been using me, draining me of my life force."

He tilted his head, his eyes gleaming with a mix of mischief and something darker. "And what if I have?" he said, his tone teasing. "What if I told you that you were simply a means to an end? A pawn?” He then chuckled, the sound sending a chill down your spine. 

“But… What if I told you, that along the lines, I fell in love with you?”

“You would lie, again.” you replied harshly, despite your heart pounding at the idea he could feel more for you. 

After a moment, he said, "Oh, Y/n," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into."

With a sudden movement, he lunged towards you, his hands reaching out to grab the knife. Instinct took over, and you reacted without thinking. With a swift motion, you brought the knife down, the blade slicing through the air with deadly precision.

But instead of fear or pain, Astarion only smirked, his eyes alight with amusement— you had missed him. "Well, well," he said, his voice filled with mock surprise, his grasp on your wrist thought and commanding. 

"Looks like we’ve reached an impasse."

You stared at him, the realisation sinking in. He had known all along, had anticipated your every move. You were no match for him, not when he held all the cards.

Astarion stepped back, his smirk widening into a devilish grin. "What will you do now, Y/n?" he said, his voice dripping with challenge. "Will you run? In fact, running doesn’t matter, I’ll hunt you down if I had to.”

“Because I crave you, angel.”

His words sent a chill down your spine, a mixture of fear and confusion swirling within you. Despite the pain and betrayal you felt, there was something unnerving about the way Astarion spoke, something primal and alluring that drew you in despite your better judgement.

You took a step back, the weight of the knife still heavy in your hand. "I won't let you do this to me," you said, your voice trembling with defiance. "I won't let you drain me until there's nothing left."

Astarion's grin widened, his eyes gleaming with a hunger that sent a shiver down your spine. "Oh, but my dear," he purred, taking a slow step forward, "you misunderstand. I don't intend to drain you until there's nothing left. I intend to keep you alive, to keep you by my side for eternity."

Astarion's devilish grin sent a jolt of desire through you, despite your best efforts to resist it. The primal urge to submit to his will, to give yourself over to his control, tugged at your very core. His words, laced with carnal intent, only served to stoke the flames of your deepest, darkest desires.

Your grip tightened on the knife, your heart racing as you took a step back. "I won't let you destroy me," you hissed, your voice trembling with a mix of fear and arousal. "I refuse to be nothing more than your plaything."

Astarion's eyes glinted with a wicked light as he closed the gap between you. "Oh, but my angel," he purred, his voice seductive, "you're already mine. And you'll find that there's no greater pleasure than being my plaything."

Your bodies were mere inches apart now, and you could feel the heat radiating off Astarion. The intensity of his gaze washed over you, as he reached out, gently cupping your cheek. His thumb traced the outline of your lips, causing you to shiver. "I'll make you crave it," Astarion whispered, the promise in his voice leaving no room for doubt, "the pleasure, the pain, the ecstasy. I will push you to your limits and beyond…”

“And you'll love every moment of it."

Your breath caught in your throat, the conflict between your desire to run, to resist, and your ever-growing need to surrender to his will warring within you. Astarion's fingers brushed against your neck, the heat from his touch sending a flood of sensations coursing through your body.

You could feel your resolve slipping, the knife in your hand wavering as you stared into his captivating eyes. The line between pleasure and pain blurred, and you found yourself swaying closer, your body betraying your mind, surrendering to the enchantment of the man before you.

Astarion's lips met yours in a searing kiss, his hands moving to your waist, pulling you against him. The world around you faded, leaving only the two of you locked in a passionate embrace, your defences crumbling, your body responding to his with a hunger it couldn't suppress.

The knife fell from your grasp, forgotten on the ground as you explored each other's mouths, your tongues entwining, your lips clashing, a symphony of desire and submission unfolding between you.

Astarion broke the passionate kiss, his lips lingering for a moment on yours before he pulled back, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction, as you complained about the lack of contact, your lips chasing his. "Oh, you've been very, very bad," he purred, his voice thick with wicked intent. 

"And punishment is necessary when you stray from the path of grace."

His words sent a shiver down your spine, a mixture of fear and desire coiling in the pit of your stomach. You couldn't deny the power he wielded, the allure of his dominance provoking an arousal that heightened your senses. As you lay there, defenceless and exposed, Astarion held you in his arms, putting you back to bed. With practised ease, he bound your hands to the headboard, the restraints tight to restrict your movements.

"You're my captive now," he declared, his deep voice a promise of both pleasure and pain. "And I'll do with you as I please." The vulnerability you felt, the loss of control, only served to amplify your arousal. Astarion's gaze raked over your body, his eyes lingering on your heaving chest, the rapid rise and fall of your breasts betraying your excitement.

He leaned in close, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, "Are you ready to submit to your master? Because I'm not going to stop until you're mine, body and soul."

Deep down, you knew there was no escape, and as much as the thought terrified you, a wicked and exhilarating thrill coursed through your veins. You cursed yourself for that, for the way your body betrayed you, responding to his touch despite the danger he represented. Because in truth, Astarion had already claimed you, body and soul, and now, you were his to mould, to break, to pleasure, and to torment.

You had fallen for the kind you hated, a vampire. 

The very creatures you had sworn to hunt and destroy. And Astarion had played you perfectly, manipulating your mind, making you believe that some vampires were good, that they could be trusted.

The memories of the past weeks flooded back, each touch, each word, all calculated to worm his way into your heart. You thought back to the days and nights you spent together, the gentle caresses, the tender words that seemed to reach into your very soul. All of it had been a part of his plan.

Astarion smirked as he admired you, a devious glint in his eyes. He leaned down, his lips pressing against yours in a possessive kiss, his tongue pushing against your lips, demanding entrance. And yet, you still opened it for him willingly, the taste of his saliva invading your mouth.

He pulled away, his lips trailing down your neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin, making you shudder. His fangs elongated as he prepared to feed, the tip of one piercing your flesh. You gasped, the sharp sting of his bite quickly dissipating as your blood flowed into his greedy mouth.

"No," you whimpered, trying to deny the pleasure as Astarion's fangs elongated, the sharp points poised to pierce your flesh. "I... I don't want this." Your body bucked against the headboard, your hands straining against the silk restraints as he began to feed. The pleasure coursed through your veins, your core aching with each draw of his lips. "Astarion..." you moaned, your voice tinged with a mix of pleasure and desperation.

"You want this," he purred, his voice thick with satisfaction as he continued to feed. The room spun around you, the pleasure reaching an almost unbearable crescendo. "You crave it, just like I knew you would."

You tried to resist, your voice trembling as you replied, "I... I shouldn't enjoy this. It's wrong."

The pleasure that enveloped you as his mouth sucked your blood was indescribable, your body arching towards him, an animalistic moan escaping your lips, “Oh, yes gods.” You cried out. He sucked greedily, your blood a sweet ambrosia to his thirsty lips. The more he drank, the more intensely you felt the pleasure, the orgasmic waves crashing over you, leaving you trembling.

Then, Astarion's hands moved to his own trousers, his fingers fumbling with the button, unzipping them to reveal the thick erection straining against the fabric of his underwear. His eyes never left yours as he pulled out his cock, the head glistening with pre-cum, the veins pulsating with desire.

"Every night, I've fed on you. But, I've also found other ways to amuse myself while you slept," he confessed with a smirk, his hand wrapping around his shaft, stroking it with slow deliberate motions. "I've watched you, so beautiful and vulnerable in your slumber, the way your breath hitches, the way your nipples harden, the way you squirm in your sleep, all signs that even while unconscious, your body craves me."

His strokes grew more fervent, his hips bucking in small motions, the slick sound of his hand moving up and down his shaft filling the room. "And I've touched myself, imagining myself burying my cock in your tight, wet cunt, fucking you until you screamed my name."

As he stroked himself, the sounds of his hand moving up and down, slapping against his shaft, filled the room. You blushed, the realisation of how much he lusted after you, the intimate invasion of your privacy, making your pussy dampen, your desire for him growing more insatiable.

Astarion's eyes bore into yours, the hunger and lust in his gaze undeniable as he continued his lewd confession. "I've come so many times, my release tasting of you, a tangible reminder of this unending obsession I have for you. And now, angel, I want to take you, to finally—finally fill you with my cock and claim you as mine."

Astarion's voice grew thick with lust, his hunger for you apparent as he declared his intentions. "Let me see your submission, let me see how badly you need me." As you gazed up at him, he reached forward, his hand cupping your chin, his thumb brushing against your bottom lip. "Open for me," he demanded, and you did, your lips parting to reveal the wet, inviting depths of your mouth. 

“Good girl.” He purred with a low appreciative growl. 

Without hesitation, Astarion guided his cock to your lips, the head brushing against them before he thrust forward, burying himself in your mouth. You gasped, the taste of him, the feel of his thickness. Astarion urged you on, his grip tightening on your head as he demanded more. "Suck me, use your saliva to lube my cock."

You did as he bid, working your saliva along his length, the slick substance coating his cock as you took him deeper in your mouth. The taste, the sound, the feeling of him, heightened your arousal, your body quivering with need. Suddenly, he stopped you, pulling out of your mouth with a low growl. You gasped, your lips parting to reveal the absence of his cock. He then positioned himself between your spread thighs, his eyes locked on yours, the lust and desire burning brightly.

"No preparation," he growled, his hand guiding his cock to your entrance. "This is your punishment, remember, and I want to feel every inch of you, raw and unbridled."

His rigid member pressed insistently against your swollen, slick folds. Before you could even gasp, he thrust forward, burying himself inside you, the sudden invasion making you cry out in both pain and pleasure.

He began to fuck you relentlessly, his thrusts deep and powerful, filling you completely with each stroke. Your breasts bounced with each impact, your nipples brushing against the rough fabric of his robe, sending jolts of pleasure through your body as he stretched you.

Astarion's hands gripped your hips harder, his thrusts becoming more frenzied as his anger boiled over. "Never, Y/n. You will never be free from me," he snarled, his voice deep and guttural. "I could give you the entire world, everything you could ever desire, and you still refuse to submit to me." he hissed.

You felt the veins on his cock pulse with each thrust, the intensity of his anger amplifying the pleasure coursing through your body. Your pussy clenched around him, your body betraying your resistance as he pounded into you with a force that bordered on violence. The room was filled with the sounds of your bodies colliding, the wet smacks of skin on skin punctuating his threats.

"You may think you want freedom, but what you truly crave is my control, my dominance," Astarion growled, his words heavy with conviction. "You can't resist me, and I won't let you go, Y/n."

He leaned down, nipping at your earlobe, the sharp pain mingling with the pleasure of his cock stretching you open. It was almost as if he was branding you, claiming you, as he continued his relentless assault on your body.

Your resistance crumbled beneath the onslaught of his passion, your arousal growing with every harsh word. Your body shook, your pussy clenching around him in desperation, and you whimpered, not able to form a coherent thought or sentence. 

His vampire's kisses became more urgent, his tongue duelling with yours as his hips moved at a frenzied pace. You could feel his cock throbbing inside you, each vein rubbing against your inner walls, causing sparks of pleasure to radiate through your core. "Fuck, you're so tight, angel. I'm going to fill you with my cum," he growled, his hands gripping your hips tightly, pulling you closer with each thrust.

The base of his cock rubbed against your clit, each impact bringing you closer to the edge. Your pussy clenched around his cock, milking him with every spasm. The room filled with the sounds of flesh slapping against flesh, wet and primal, as you fucked with a desperation born of need and lust.

You could no longer deny the truth in his words. You arched your back, your hips meeting his thrusts, your body begging for more. "Fuck, yes, Astarion. Don't ever stop," you gasped, your voice shaking with need.

"That's it, Y/n. Take it. Take my cock, your body was made for it," he growled.

Astarion leaned down, nipping at your neck, leaving tiny marks in his wake. His fangs grazed your skin, the mixture of pleasure and pain making your orgasm crest, crashing over you in waves.  Astarion's movements might be more violent, his body a tempest of raw, carnal desire as he fucked you. But the contrast between his tender kisses and the aggressive force with which he took you was arousing, a betrayal of his tender nature.

His lips left yours, a trail of wet, hot kisses making their way down your neck, the sharp points of his fangs grazing your skin as he growled, "You make me lose control, Y/n. Every time I touch you, I'm reminded of the beast I am."

You cried out, the pleasure building to a fever pitch within you. "Astarion," you pleaded, your voice shaking. "Don't stop, please... Please don't stop." At your words, his thrusts became more erratic, the violence of his movements a stark contrast to the tender, loving kisses you'd received only moments before. 

The combination of his conflicting emotions and the relentless assault on your body left you breathless, your orgasm overtaking you. The tenderness of his kisses, the violence of his thrusts, and the desperation in his voice all converged, creating a whirlwind of sensations that left you at his mercy.

The sensation of your pussy convulsing around his cock was too much for Astarion, and he roared, his cock pulsating inside you as he unleashed his hot, sticky cum deep within your quivering depths. Your bodies heaved, entwined, as the aftershocks of your orgasms continued to reverberate through you both.

Slowly, Astarion pulled out of you, his cock leaving behind a trail of cum and your fluids. He fell back, his breathing as ragged as yours, and gazed at you with an expression that was both lustful and tender—prideful, as if he could never get enough of you.

As Astarion pulled out, your body felt empty, the void left by his departure a stark reminder of the loss. Your legs trembled, and you sagged against the bed, the weight of your arousal now replaced by an aching, throbbing sensation that echoed through your body.

Your eyes observed your own form, taking note of the red marks that adorned your hips, the bruises on your wrists from the restraints, and the trickle of blood from the bite on your neck making its way down your collarbones. You looked at Astarion, this man who had brought you to such heights of pleasure, however, you saw him as a monster, a creature who revealed in the act of inflicting pain while claiming to love you.

Tears began to stream down your face, the realisation dawning that your pleasure and his desire for violence were intrinsically linked. The more he hurt you, the more he pleased you, a twisted, tortuous dance that left you aching and unsatisfied. "Why?" you managed between sniffs, your voice fraught with hurt and confusion. 

"Why do you do this to me?"

Astarion's expression softened, and he reached out to you, his hand cupping your chin as he tilted your face up to meet his gaze. "Because you're mine, Y/n," he said, his voice low and filled with an unshakeable conviction. "Because you bring out the best and the worst in me, and I can't help but be drawn to the darkness you unleash within me. It's not something I can control, Y/n. I love you, and I hurt you because I can't help it."

"This is not love— You're a monster," you whispered, the tears falling faster as the full weight of your situation settled upon you. Despite the blissful orgasm, you couldn't escape the truth.

Astarion flinched at your words, a flash of hurt crossing his face. He let out a shuddering breath, his grip on your chin tightening slightly before he released you. "I know," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "I know what I am, and I know what I've done to you. But it's because I can't lose you. Not now, not ever."

You looked at his pain expression, your heart heavy with a mixture of sorrow and fear. "I can't stay here, Astarion," you said, your voice trembling. "I can't live like this, constantly torn between love and pain." 

For a moment, you saw the conflict in his eyes, the battle between the man he wanted to be and the monster he used to be. "Y/n," he began, his voice breaking, "Please. I need you."

You shook your head, fresh tears streaming down your cheeks. "I can't," you repeated, your voice firmer this time. 

"Y/n, I... I didn't mean to hurt you. I lose myself sometimes, and you bring out a side of me that's... feral, wild, and I can't control it."

You looked away, unable to meet his eyes, the weight of the moment pressing heavily on your heart. You felt a mixture of fear and confusion, your desire for him warring with the pain he had unintentionally caused.

Astarion's hand gently brushed against your cheek, his touch tender now, his tone filled with remorse. "Please forgive me. I don't want to hurt you, Y/n. I promise, I'll find a way to control myself."

Tears streamed down your face as the realisation of your situation sank in. "I… I don't want to stay," you whispered, your voice fraught with hurt and confusion. The weight of your decision pressed heavily on your heart, but you knew it was the right choice for your own sanity and well-being.

Astarion's face contorted with a mixture of pain and resignation. His hand lingered for a moment, trembling slightly, before he reluctantly reached for the knot that restrained your wrist. With careful precision, he untied it, his fingers brushing against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine.

As the restraint fell away, you rubbed your wrist, feeling a sense of freedom mingled with an aching sense of loss. Astarion's eyes met yours, a storm of emotions swirling within them. "If you truly wish to leave," he said, his voice low and heavy with regret, "then I won't stop you. But let me take care of you one last night. Allow me to tend to your wounds, and ensure you're well enough to go."

You hesitated, the conflict within you raging. Despite everything, a part of you still longed for his touch, for the care he had shown amidst the darkness. Finally, you nodded, your voice barely above a whisper. 

"Alright. One last night."

Astarion's shoulders relaxed slightly, a flicker of relief in his wine eyes. He guided you gently to the bed, his touch tender and careful. He helped you lie down, adjusting the covers around you with a practised ease. The silk sheets felt cool against your heated skin, a soothing contrast to the turmoil within.

He brushed a lock of hair from your face, his fingers lingering on your cheek before he turned away to gather the supplies needed to tend to your bite wounds. You watched him, your heart heavy with a mixture of sorrow and longing. Despite the pain he had caused, there was a part of you that couldn't help but care for him.

You felt a pang of sadness, an ache that went beyond the physical pain of your wounds. 

You had spent so much time with Astarion, sharing moments that were as mundane as they were precious—reading together, talking late into the night, tending to the garden. The thought of leaving him, of abandoning him back to his loneliness, was almost unbearable.

He moved with grace, his touch gentle and precise as he cleaned and dressed the marks on your neck. Each movement seemed filled with an unspoken apology, a silent plea for forgiveness. When he finished, he looked down at you, his eyes softening. "Sleep well, angel," he murmured, his voice a seductive purr. 

"I'll be here if you need anything."

As he turned to leave, a sudden wave of loneliness washed over you. You reached out, your voice trembling. 

"Astarion, wait."

He paused, turning back to face you, a hint of surprise in his eyes. "Yes?"

You hesitated for a moment, then took a deep breath. "Will you stay with me? Just for tonight?"

Astarion's eyes widened slightly, a myriad of emotions flickering across his face. "Are you sure?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "After everything... are you sure you want me to stay?"

You nodded, your eyes filled with unshed tears. "I don't want to leave you alone," you said softly. "Not tonight."

For a moment, Astarion seemed at a loss for words. Then he moved closer, sitting on the edge of the bed. He reached out, taking your hand in his, his grip firm but gentle. "Thank you," he said quietly. "You don't know what this means to me."

He looked deeply into your eyes, his gaze softening. Without a word, he gently moved closer, sliding his arms around you with a tenderness that belied his strength. Slowly, he drew you into his embrace, his touch warm and reassuring. You felt his chest rise and fall with each breath, a steady rhythm that began to calm your racing heart. His nose pressed against your hair, and you felt the soft caress of his breath as he exhaled. 

"Shhh," he whispered, his voice a soothing murmur. "It's alright. Just relax. I'm here."

You nestled into his arms, the tension in your body gradually dissipating. Astarion's presence enveloped. His hand gently stroked your back in slow, comforting circles, and you felt the weight of his chin resting lightly on top of your head. "Close your eyes," he whispered, his voice a lullaby in the quiet room. 

"Let go of your worries, just for tonight."

You obeyed, your eyelids growing heavy. The scent of him, a mix of bergamot and something uniquely him, filled your senses, and you found yourself drifting closer to sleep. His other hand came up to cradle your head, his fingers threading through your hair in a gentle, repetitive motion.

"I'll be right here when you wake up," he murmured, his lips brushing against your temple. "I promise."

His words, filled with a sincerity that you had rarely heard from him, wrapped around your heart. You felt the last of your resistance melting away as sleep began to take hold. In his arms, you felt a sense of safety and warmth that you hadn't known you needed until you met him.

As you drifted into slumber, Astarion continued to hold you close, his presence a comforting anchor in the night. His nose remained pressed against your hair, and his steady breaths lulled you deeper into sleep. 

‿̩͙‿ ༺ ♰ ༻ ‿̩͙‿

I'll be right here when you wake up.

I promise.

When you woke up, the first thing you noticed was the cold emptiness beside you. The space where Astarion had been was now vacant, the bed's sheets cool to the touch. It was another lie, another illusion of safety and care shattered by the harsh reality of his absence. You sighed, a mixture of sadness and resignation settling over you. Part of you had hoped that perhaps he would be there, making a desperate attempt to change your mind, to convince you to stay. But the room was silent, and Astarion was nowhere to be seen.

You gathered your things slowly, your movements heavy with the weight of disappointment. Each item you packed felt like a small piece of your heart being torn away. You wandered through the church, your footsteps echoing in the empty halls. The place felt even more desolate than before, the shadows longer and the silence deeper. You searched for him, a flicker of hope driving you to check every corner, every hidden space.

But Astarion was gone. There was no trace of him, no sign that he had ever been there.

Days passed in a blur of longing and despair. You found yourself lingering, unable to leave the place that had become a twisted sanctuary. Each day you waited, hoping against hope that he would return, that he would explain, that he would ask you to stay. But the days turned into nights, and Astarion never came back.

You stayed a couple of days, the church becoming a prison of your own making. You tended to the garden, read the books on the shelves, and kept the place as tidy as you could, as if maintaining it would somehow bring him back. But each sunset brought only more loneliness, and each sunrise reminded you of his absence.

Finally, with a heavy heart, you came to the painful realisation that you would never see him again. Astarion had vanished, leaving behind only memories and unanswered questions. The love you had shared, however twisted and complex, was now just a ghost haunting the empty church.

With a final, sorrowful glance around the place that had been your refuge, you gathered the last of your belongings and walked out into the night. And as you took your first steps away from the church, you carried with you the bittersweet memory of a love that could never be, and the knowledge that because of him you had survived, even if it meant leaving a part of yourself behind.

As you stepped out into the night, a sense of unease washed over you, prickling at the back of your mind like a warning. Your hunter instincts surged to life, urging you to pay attention, to be alert. The forest seemed to whisper to you, a cacophony of voices urging you to act, to help.

Astarion. 

Without a moment's hesitation, you raced through the darkened woods, your heart pounding in your chest. The urgency of the situation fueled your movements, driving you forward with a singular purpose. Images of worst-case scenarios flashed through your mind, each more horrifying than the last.

As you drew closer, the putrid scent of death and blood assaulted your senses, causing your stomach to churn with nausea. Your steps faltered for a moment, dread pooling in the pit of your stomach. But you pushed forward, steeling yourself for whatever lay ahead.

And then, you saw him.

Astarion lay on the ground, his body battered and bloody, surrounded by the lifeless corpses of other vampires. The sight made your heart ache with a mixture of fear and sorrow. Despite everything, despite the pain and betrayal, you couldn't bear to see him like this.

Without a second thought, you rushed to his side, dropping to your knees beside him. His breathing was shallow, his skin pale and clammy to the touch. You gently cradled his head in your arms, your fingers trembling as you assessed his injuries. "Astarion," you whispered, your voice filled with concern. 

"Can you hear me? What happened?"

He stirred slightly, his eyes fluttering open to meet yours. There was pain and confusion in his gaze, but also a glimmer of relief at seeing you there.

"Y/n, my sweet angel" he rasped, his voice barely above a whisper. "I... I didn't think... you'd come."

You shook your head, your heart breaking at the vulnerability in his voice. "Sorry it took me a while, but I heard you," you said softly. 

A weak chuckle escaped Astarion's lips, his voice strained with pain. "Before you leave," he said, a hint of humour lacing his words, "I thought I should take care of those pesky vampires that were threatening the village. Wouldn't want you to leave thinking I'm not capable of protecting you, now would we?"

His attempt at levity brought tears to your eyes, and you blinked them away, your vision blurred with emotion. In that moment, you realised the truth—that he had done all of this for you. Despite everything, despite the pain and the betrayal, he had risked his life to keep you safe.

The realisation hit you like a punch to the gut, leaving you reeling with a mixture of gratitude and sorrow. How could you have been so blind, so quick to judge him without understanding the depth of his feelings?

As you looked into his eyes, you saw the truth reflected back at you—a love that transcends boundaries and defied logic. In that moment, you knew that you couldn't just walk away, not when there was still so much left unsaid between you. "I'm proud of you, Astarion," you whispered, your voice choked with emotion. 

"I always have been."

He smiled weakly, his eyes shining with unshed tears. "Thank you, Y/n," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "For everything."

“Don’t thank me yet,” Taking a deep breath, you helped Astarion to his feet, one arm around his waist for support, the other cradling his head. You could feel the heat emanating from his body, the sharp sting of pain etched across his features.

Despite his weakened state, he leaned on you, allowing you to guide him back toward the church. The sun was setting, painting the sky with hues of orange and gold, its warmth a stark contrast to the chill that enveloped the village. His steps were slow and uncertain, each breath laboured, yet he pressed onward, driven by a will that was as unyielding as the love he bore for you. You couldn't help but feel a surge of admiration for the man who, despite his flaws, never faltered in his devotion to you.

The journey back to the church felt like an eternity, each step a struggle against the darkness that threatened to engulf you both. But you refused to falter, refused to let Astarion succumb to his injuries.

Finally, you reached the safety of the church, its walls a sanctuary against the horrors of the night. With careful hands, you guided Astarion to the very same bed he had welcomed you a while ago. 

Now layed down, Astarion watched you with a mixture of gratitude and awe. "I never imagined the day when I would be at the mercy of a human," he admitted, his voice tinged with irony. But you didn’t laugh. 

With trembling hands, you gingerly began to tend to Astarion's wounds. Each movement was a delicate dance between fear and compassion, the weight of his suffering pressing down on you like a heavy shroud. The sight of him in pain pierced your heart like a dagger, and you fought to keep your composure, to stave off the overwhelming tide of despair threatening to consume you.

As you worked, your mind raced with a cacophony of emotions—grief, anger, and an overwhelming sense of helplessness. How could you, a mere mortal, hope to heal the wounds of a creature as ancient and powerful as Astarion? Yet, despite the odds stacked against you, you couldn't bear to stand idly by while he suffered. 

Astarion watched you with a mixture of gratitude and concern, his wine eyes filled with unspoken words. He reached out to you, his touch gentle against your skin, a silent reassurance in the midst of chaos. "Shh, Y/n," he murmured, his voice smooth and soothing like velvet. "It's all right. You’re doing great angel."

His words offered little comfort, but you appreciated the gesture nonetheless. With a deep breath, you focused on the task at hand, pushing aside your own emotions as you worked to ease his pain. Each touch, each bandage applied with painstaking care, was a silent prayer for his recovery, a desperate plea to whatever gods might be listening to spare him from further suffering.

Astarion watched you, his eyes filled with anguish and concern. Feeling your turmoil, he reached out to take your hand, his voice a soothing murmur as he spoke. "Y/n, listen to me. I haven't been truly honest with you. When I spoke of my sins, the sins of the flesh, that's what I meant."

His words hit you like a hammer, and for a moment, you couldn't find your voice. Astarion continued, his confession laced with pain and regret. "Most of my life, I was used. A pawn in a game, my body a tool to lure others into a trap. My master, the one who made me into what I am, he used me for his own wicked purposes. And when he died, I came here, to take penance."

He looked up at the ceiling, the pain etched in every line of his face. "Every day, the holy ground is a punishment for me, a constant reminder of my past. But being here, it's my way of making amends. And you... you showed me something I never thought I'd find. I know I'm not perfect, Y/n. I've made mistakes, many of them, and my past is one I can't escape. But I want to be better for you. I want to start anew."

You listened to Astarion's confession in stunned silence, the weight of his words sinking deep into your heart. Anger flared within you, a fiery inferno that threatened to consume you from the inside out. How could anyone be so callous, so cruel as to use another person in such a way? The thought of Astarion's past filled you with a righteous fury, a burning desire for justice that pulsed through your veins like wildfire.

But as he continued to speak, his voice tinged with regret and remorse, you felt the anger give way to something else—a sense of empathy, of understanding. Astarion had never known affection, had never experienced the simple joys of human connection. His life had been one of pain and isolation, a constant battle against the darkness that threatened to consume him.

"When you came here," he confessed, his voice soft and vulnerable, "I didn't know what to make of it. I had never felt anything like it before—the warmth, the kindness, the affection. It was overwhelming, and at some point, I think I fell in love."

His words hung in the air like a heavy fog, the weight of their meaning pressing down on you like a burden too heavy to bear. You had never imagined that your presence could have such an effect on him, that your simple acts of kindness could inspire such profound emotions.

"But I didn't know how to express it," Astarion continued, his voice filled with regret. "I was so caught up in my own pain, my own anger, that when you threatened to leave, it... it turned into something else. Something ugly.  I lashed out at the only thing I could control—you."

Tears welled up in your eyes, the conflicting emotions warring within you like a stormy sea. On one hand, you felt a deep sense of sadness for the pain that Astarion had endured, for the loneliness that had plagued him for so long. But on the other hand, you couldn't shake the feeling of betrayal, of hurt and anger at the thought that he had lashed out at you in his moment of weakness.

"I'm sorry, Y/n," Astarion whispered, his voice filled with remorse. "I know I've hurt you, and I don't expect you to forgive me. But please... please understand that I never meant to cause you pain. I love you, Y/n, and I would do anything to make things right between us."

Tears cascaded down your cheeks in a torrent, a floodgate of emotions unleashed by Astarion's heartfelt confession. His words were a symphony of pain and longing, each syllable carrying the weight of his regrets and the depth of his love. You couldn't help but be moved by the raw vulnerability he laid bare before you, his soul laid bare like an open book, pleading for understanding and forgiveness.

As his voice trembled with emotion, you felt your own resolve waver, the walls you had erected around your heart crumbling in the face of his sincerity. "I love you too, Astarion," you whispered, your voice barely above a breath, yet weighted with a lifetime of unspoken truths. "I don't want you to suffer for something that wasn't your fault. You deserve happiness, just like anyone else."

Silently, Astarion's hand, weakened by his wounds, reached for your cheek, his touch gentle and tender against your skin. With a soft sigh, he guided you towards him, you felt the gentle pressure of his lips against yours, a tender caress that said more than words ever could. His kiss was a balm for your wounded soul, and you knew he felt the same about yours. 

"You have to make me a vampire," you whispered, your voice trembling with both fear and resolve. "We'll leave this church, and we'll build a new life together. We'll find a place where we can be happy."

Astarion's eyes, clouded with a mixture of relief and love, met yours. His lips curved into a weak smile that was both tender and heart-wrenching. It seemed as though the weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders, and in its place, there was a joy that shone forth from the depths of his very being.

"Yes, my love, I would love that," he replied, his voice thick with emotion. As his lips lingered on yours, you felt a sense of belonging wash over you, a sense of fulfilment that you had longed for all your life. For that brief, fleeting moment, you were no longer alone - you were one, united by a love that defied all logic and reason.

As you surrendered to the bliss of his kiss, you knew that in the embrace of his love, you had found your home, your sanctuary. 

Your salvation.

❛ masterlist ⋅ ao3 ❜