#The fire spirits were very disappointed

[erendur]

Maedhros needs a hug.

I think we all agree (well, most of us at least), that Maedhros needs a hug, at the very least.

So I was thinking, what if he was adopted by a group of lesser fire spirits after he threw himself in the chasm (I could bet good money on the fact that a fanfic has already been written based on that idea, but am too lazy to check).

The chasm he threw himself in is probably a major, big-ass one - he’s a Fëanorian after all, I think he would leave in style. So there were bound to be at least a few lesser fire spirits hanging out there, with not much to do. Corrupted evil spirits have plenty to do, what with torturing people, murdering them or creating monsters, but the non-corrupted ones probably have plenty of time on their hands.

So suddenly, there's this gorgeous Elf throwing himself in their chasm. And they’re super thrilled, because the Ainu of Valinor get plenty of pretty elves hanging around them, but the lesser spirits of Middle-Earth, not so much. Plus, when they get closer, they notice that it’s not just any Elf, but a Fëanorian, a super-fiery one, one they’ve probably sneakily had a look at when he was in his Father’s forge at some point (I’m convinced fire spirits regularly sneaked into Fëanor’s forge fire to have a good look at him and his family of fiery hotties).

I’m imagining a kind of Monthy Python’s Holy Grail’s Castle Anthrax situation there : they all jump on his fëa as fast as they can, to make sure he doesn’t escape towards Mandos’s halls or any funny business like that, and of course Maedhros doesn’t put up much of a fight given that :

He’s super tired, even in disembodied fëa form ;

He very much does NOT want to go to Mandos and, as far as he had planned ahead, was determined to give him the slip. He’s already been imprisoned once, thank you very much, he’s not doing it again.

So when Mandos finally comes looking for him, the fire spirits hide him in under a fire blanket and pile of throw pillows or whatever the equivalent would be in a fiery chasm, put on their most innocent look, and say they’ve seen nothing.

“An Elf ? Why would there be an Elf in a fiery chasm ? We haven’t seen any Elves around here. And even if we had, they’d been gone by now. In this direction, yes, over there. Nothing to see here, no Sir, certainly no murderous fiery Elf.”

Mandos doesn’t press the matter too much, because he’s got a group of Avari Elves that have eaten poison berries to take care of, and he already feels the start of a headache coming.

Maedhros spends the next age or so being absolutely pampered by the fire spirits, who can’t believe their luck. They braid his fëa hair and make him fiery buttered crumpets. They chill on the fiery sofa and they make him laugh by telling mean jokes about the water spirits and making funny impersonations of Ulmö. I’m picturing an Odysseus/Calypso situation there. He’s having a nice time. He’s got no one to manage, he’s not in charge of any siblings, he’s got no hopeless war to fight and no Oath to fulfil. He can finally relax with his fire spirit pals.

Eventually, someone spills the beans to Mandos. Of course, it’s a water spirit. They’ve been eyeing Maglor for an age, holding their breath as he gets closer and closer to the water, hoping - surely, this time he’ll go in !- but he never does, so since they can’t get their hot pet Elf, it’s unfair that the other ones do.

Mandos decides to kill two birds with one stone on this one, and sends Fingon to get him. He’s been trying to get rid of Fingon for almost as soon as he’d arrived - “You did a magical rescue ! Manwë sent you his eagle ! You waged a war against Evil ! You died a heroe’s death ! You have nothing to do here !” - but Fingon has always stubbornly refused to be reembodied until Maedhros had at least arrived. He’s got five other Fëanorians plus a bunch of their followers who also refuse to leave for the same reason. He thinks he’s finally got a solution.

So by the time Fingon arrives in the fiery chasm, Maedhros has chilled and relaxed enough that he is able to consider the whole atone for his sins in Mandos thing in a more sanguine way. It will be mostly fine. He did some terrible things. He won’t be tortured. He’ll be ok. Fingon will be there. So he only puts up the bare minimum of a fuss before following Finno.

“I can’t go back, I’m an accursed kinslayer. Everybody there reviles me. There is no hell so profound that is sufficient to punish the tenth part of my sins…” (He has spent hundred of years hanging out with Maglor, who has some serious Drama-Queen tendencies, and also came up with that last line before Marguerite de Navarre).

“Come on, Mae, not everyone reviles you, there are many people who are waiting for you there, and you’ll get reembodied eventually…”

“Do not insist, dear friend, I am the most accursed of the accursed, I’ll never finish atoning for my sins, I'll be cast aside, universally hated, like I deserve…”

“Maitimo Nelyafinwë ! Stop it this instant ! You’re going to Mandos now, and you’re going to be reembodied, and you’ll give a kiss to your Mom you’ve been waiting for you all this time !”

So he leaves, much to the chagrin of the fire spirits. Well, at least, they all had a good time.

[vespertiliosworld]

hello i just read your title (sorry for my bad english) and love it also made a comment on it so can i ask for a request for yandere damian al ghul with the famale reader who doesn't want him ? Like she is powerful girl with meta powers and she doesnt interest with damian so what Damian al ghul would do to gain her as a yandere ?

I apologize for being late, I had an important exam and needed to take a break from writing.

Damian ushered in a new era when he took over the League of Assassin. It is a very powerful and bloody era. As Al Ghul, each new generation becomes a better strong leader than the last. This disappointed Bruce when Damian decided to follow in his mother's and grandfather's footsteps.

You met on a mission with the League Of Assassin and so the two of you are somewhat of enemies, but Damian has different ideas for you. You may be a metahuman, but you should know that Damian is extremely intelligent and powerful. In fact, he is too smart and strong.

After fighting each other to the death a few times, he loved that strong spirit in you and your eyes that screamed that you would not kneel. The burning spirit in his eyes excited him. He knew that one day he would bow his knees in front of her.

He was quite comfortable relying on that. It wasn't his fault that every man and every woman you dated ended up dead. You were too stubborn to admit it was him.

He knew every place you went, every person you talked to and every book you read. You were too silly to notice the cameras installed inside your house. You continued to fight against him, knowing that you would eventually lose. You are finally defeated. You stand on your knees in front of him, exhausted. The hatred in your eyes burned like fire as some of your hair fell in front of you.

Damian was looking at you with his green eyes shining with arrogance. He stood confidently in front of you, his lips slightly curled upwards. The tension between you two was palpable as you both kept your eyes on each other.

Damian finally took a break from this silent battle and took a step towards you. He held your chin with his fingers and lifted it up. "I see the fire in your eyes, darling." he said arrogantly. He stepped back after letting go of your jaw. "But that won't save you. You belong to me now."

You never took your eyes off him as you spit the blood that filled your mouth onto the ground. "You can't even take my death." It was probably ridiculous for you to challenge him with your harsh and cutting tone. He used a special collar to restrict your powers. It was pretty stupid of you to stand up to him despite the collar hurting your neck.

Damian's emerald green eyes fell on him like bad luck. He called out to the two assassins holding you, never looking away. "Take her."

When the two assassins holding you lifted you from your knees to your feet, you struggled to get away from them. While your efforts were of no use, your eyes went black with a blow to your neck. The last thing you saw was Damian's cocky smile.

When you woke up again, you were in a dungeon-like place. Your hands were tied to the wall. The chains were painfully tight. The smell of mold and cold permeated every part of this dungeon. Even if you don't die from Damian, you'll probably die here from the mold and cold.

When you coughed and looked around, you realized that you were alone here. There was no one, just you. You tried to tug on the chains but you were too weak for that. You shouted angrily. You were angry at yourself for how you ended up in such a situation.

"There's no point in shouting, beloved. You belong to me now." You looked up at Damian as his green eyes sparkled with cruelty. Your gaze was hostile.

You speak while clenching your fists. "Even if I die, I won't let this happen." The hatred in your voice was so intense you could cut the chains like a knife.

Damian chuckled evilly. "I don't need your permission, you've already lost."

---

[honeyxbunny99]

Sandor Clegane~ The Bitch and The Hound pt. 3

You woke to bird song and smiled contentedly, rolling over to try to catch another glimpse at your husband. You found only an empty bed. You began to stretch up out of bed and reflect on last night, as if it hadn’t been keeping you awake and even seeping into your dreams. ~Stay out of my head~ you had told Sandor in your mind, but whenever you tried to think of puppies or flowers or children, all of your familiar sweet dream things, you would turn back and watch him sleep.

Just as your feet hit the floor, Anna knocked at your chamber door and entered the next second. She rushed over to you with quiet footsteps, scanning you and seeing that you were still in your evening dress.

“Are you hurt, m’lady?” Concern coated every word and she placed gentle hands on your cheeks. You placed your hands atop hers and smiled, finding comfort in how much she cared for you.

“I’m fine, Anna. He didn’t hurt me, and he won’t hurt you.”

“But (y/n) how can you say that when the bruises are still fresh?” She asked and you were reminded of his grip on your throat the night you were supposed to consummate.

”I just… I’m certain.” You assured.

She nodded softly. Perhaps if you were a handmaiden like her she would have argued further, but now you had at least some sense of nobility. You were a part of the Clegane house now, and that meant a lot more than your original name. You admired Anna’s spirit and compassion as she dressed you. You considered her a true friend, and wanted to tell her everything as you would have told your sister. Sandor’s words stopped you though. You wondered as she tightened your corset if it was true; that she would sell you out to improve her circumstances. Perhaps you would if you were in her position.

“Must have been hard to sleep with that on all night… Though if I had to sleep next to the hound I wouldn’t want to undress either. He seemed very angry… Normally he’s all stoic and,” she molded her face to scowl like his and you laughed, “but that’s one of the only times I’ve ever seen him truly angry…. How did you get him to calm down?” She wondered aloud.

You tried to sort through stories in your head as quickly and naturally as possible. “I yelled back.” You finally shrugged, admitting the truth. She laughed in disbelief and brought a hand up to hide her mouth.

“Lady Clegane you ARE a fiery one.”

You blushed at her comment. “Well there were some tears that followed that fire…” you watched her make the bed and your stomach growled. “Would you like to break fast with me?”

She smiled brightly at you. “If you don’t fear it then I don’t either.”

The two of you dined and laughed together that morning and you felt hope for the first time that this prison you’d been damned to could actually make you happy. After your meal, you invited her on a walk through the gardens. You nearly ran into Cersei Lannister as you swiveled around a hedge.

“Your grace, I—“

“Ah, my dear lady Clegane… Leave us.” She looked at Anna as though she were rubbish littering her gardens. Anna looked between the two of you before saying lowly “I won’t go too far.”

You held your breath and curtsied. You had to wonder by her charming expression if the queen mother hated you for what you had to said about her, and how you had disrespected her son.

~Of course she does, why wouldn’t she!~

“And how is that husband of your treating you?” She asked smirking, taking your arm in hers and creating more distance between you and Anna. “I see you’re up and walking, it is a little disappointing.”

You furrowed your brows in confusion before remembering what Anna had told you about the soreness that came after intercourse. “Yes, well—“

“Maester Pycelle showed us the sheets himself. It was a bloody thing, he almost came to check on you but Joffrey forbade it. Sometimes my son can be overly cruel… Were it up to me, I would have just cut your throat and be done with it.” She dropped the threat so casually it made your mouth run dry. “But, here we are. I do hope your marriage to the hound lasts for many years to come..”

“I’m sorry, Queen Cersei… I’m sorry for what I said.”

“Oh don’t be an idiot.” She stopped walking and faced you. “You know you’re not, I know you’re not. Perhaps you are sorry for how you’ve ended up, the horrors you find yourself enduring with that beast on top of you… But you said it, in front of everyone. Own it. And own your punishment.” Her eyes fell to the ground. “Marriage can feel suffocating… I should know. It can feel like the death of yourself, because it is. From now until the end you will always be Lady Clegane. An extension of HIM. Something for him to fuck when he’s drunk or angry or doesn’t want to pay for it… Robert was a great killer in his day. It gave him nobility. Clegane is an even better killer but you know what it’s given him?” She began walking again, trusting you’d follow. “Next to nothing. Because he frightens, because he’s charmless, because of that nasty deformity on his face. People wrote songs about Robert, but they tell scary stories about your husband…” Her gaze grew distant, as if remembering. “Deep down every man wants to kill things because then they are completely his… the hound is different. The pleasure he takes from killing… I’ve heard tales that make even my blood run cold. That’s why I bought him. He will protect my son from all the cruelty the world can spew at him by lashing back horrors only he could come up with.” Now her eyes were daggers and they were pointed at you.

“You will never have love in your life with a man like that so close to you, and that, my dear, is punishment enough.”

She had taken your hand again at some point in her monologue and now she offered it a squeeze and a pat. She released you and turned to walk back into the red keep.

“You grace?” You called. “I’d like to pick some flowers…” you said it casually, to emphasize that you were not afraid of her. “May I do so here or may I be permitted beyond the walls?”

Cersei smiled in her conniving way as she looked you up and down, and nodded. “Take what you need, girl.” Before disappearing behind the protection of two large guards.

You turned swiftly and found Anna’s face peeking out behind one of the hedges. “Help me pick some roses.” You said, covering for the awkwardness of the situation with a smile.

11 roses later and you were back in your chambers. Anna and you plucked each of the petals off casually and gathered them in a cloth. There was a joust or some other horrible display going on today and you could hear the distant music and crowds from your window. You wondered if Sandor and his master were in attendance.

“I actually feel sorry for Sandor.”

“Who?” Anna said absentmindedly, pricking her thumb on a thorn.

You blew a harsh breath through your nose at the realization that even she didn’t know his real name. “The Hound?? My husband??”

“Oh!” She made a face. “I don’t much care for the name. Why would you feel sorry for that dog?” You narrowed your eyes at her insults and she raised her hands up in surrender, causing your stare to break into a soft smile. “He’s stuck with Joffrey all day. He’s been that way for years. Hell, if I had to put up with that little shit’s demands, his nasty attitude, I’d probably have a scowl like that too.”

Anna giggled. “Probably.” She sighed, finishing her roses and walking over to the window to lean out of it and try to see the event. “Still, he got the much nicer end of your bargain. He gets a beautiful virgin to terrorize in whatever ways he sees fit, all because you said what everyone was thinking.”

You looked down and the empty stems in your lap and sighed. “The Hound does not think me beautiful… And he even did not think me a virgin. Have you heard, that people say my father and I—“

“Nonsense. I know it, he knows it, Maester Pycelle sure knows it. When a pretty girl is lowborn, people make up all kinds of awful shit about her.”

You nodded, eyes still down at your lap.

“The Hound—Sandor— would have to be blind if he didn’t think you’re beautiful. And that wouldn’t make him a very good guard dog…” She came over to you and touched your shoulder gently. “Are you okay?”

“Yes… you wish to go to the tournament don’t you?” She nodded biting her lip. “Come with me, I know a guard who will let us out”

“No, I have no desire for it. Could you help draw me a bath though first?”

You enjoyed your time alone that day and tried not to count all the hours that you were waiting for your husband. It felt as though much more time had passed than the previous night and you were growing impatient. You studied your reflection and considered Anna’s words. ‘He would have to be blind if he didn’t think you were beautiful’ she had said. You wished it were true. You had been feeling so ugly lately, and now that the swelling had moved on, you decided to take the day to beautify yourself. You did not need Anna’s help, in fact you preferred to pamper yourself as you always had. Your makeup suited the lowlight of the fire and you brushed your hair a hundred more times. You wore a simple silk dress, one that would be far more comfortable to sleep in, and waited for your man. You hoped one day he could be proud to have you.

The chamber door opened and you couldn’t help but smile as you spun around in your seat. It fell though as your husband came into full view. He was bloodied, and his face mean.

“Sandor, are you hurt?!” You leapt up into action, racing over to him. He flinched away from your touch and growled out

“I’m fine woman. It’s not my blood.” Your eyes widened. “I’m glad.”

His expression read confusion. “Thank you for coming to me again tonight.”

“I’ve got to sleep somewhere don’t I? ‘Sides, I mad you a promise.”

You nodded in agreement and continued looking him over. “Still, you must have slept somewhere else the night before…”

“I wasn’t sleeping.” He answered as if that was the end of the explanation. The way he looked at you, you decided not to pry. For the first time you felt beautiful under his gaze. “You smell good.”

A shiver of joy ran up your spine at the compliment, and like you always do, you jumped right into rambling.

“Thank you! It’s rose water! I bathe in it whenever I can. It’s been said to keep the skin soft and youthful, though truthfully I just enjoy the scent.. Here!” You offered up your wrist to the big man and blushed at the size difference between you. He looked at you like you were crazy before slowly leaning down to your wrist and inhaling the scent. He closed his eyes for a moment before walking past you without a word. He cleared his throat and began to undo his armor once again.

“When’s the last time you had a bath?” “saying I stink, girl?” “Did I say that out loud?” You quipped and he turned to you and snarled.

“I don’t mean to offend, but you look like you’ve had a hard day, and a bath always makes me feel better.”

“It’s too late for that”

“I could help you.”

“I don’t need your help to wash my own ass.”

“I meant bring you the water, fill the tub, clean your armor… please?” He considered you for a moment, eyes roaming over your body.

Finally he nodded. “Fine girl, since you beg so sweetly.” he mocked but you still smiled. You raced over to the string that would ring the bell in Anna’s chamber and the two of you conspired to sneak around gathering hot water for Sandor’s bath.

“I can’t believe he’s making you do this!”

“He’s not.”

“Then why are you—“

“This will go a lot faster if you don’t ask questions, I’ll tell you about it tomorrow!” Sandor stood in the corner and watched as the two of you filled the tub again until Anna was dismissed. Sandor locked the door and then started blowing out candles you had lit. He watched you from the corner of his eye as he passed by the bathroom again to extinguish the largest fire.

You were sitting on the edge of the tub, stirring the water with your hand, dress hugging your hourglass figure, and all of it was illuminated by the glow of the moon pouring through the bathroom window.

He felt nervous. Bathing was something he did very rarely, and never in front of another person. But he couldn’t exactly kick you out into the hall. He didn’t trust the people outside this room. He took a deep breath and entered the bathroom.

“Out.” He commanded, and though you tried to hold back a frown, you obeyed. Sandor removed his shirt and his boots and you scurried back in, causing his heartbeat to quicken. “What are you—“ “I almost forgot!” You said before pouring half a small bottle into the steaming water.

Sandor grabbed your arm to stop you. “Woman what do you think you’re doing?!”

“Well you said you liked the way I smelled—“

“Bitch, you’ve gone and ruined my bath with roses? I’m a man, a man shouldn’t smell like fucking flowers!”

You smiled a little in spite of his grip on you. “Which is why it isn’t oil of rose in this bottle!” You grabbed the bottle with your free hand and brought it to his nose to smell. “It’s from cloves and cinnamon, you brute.” You raised your eyebrows as he inhaled and didn’t completely reject it. He frowned and released your wrist.

“Out.” He said again.

“Fine.” You replied, sneaking a moment as you slowly retreated to admire his chest; big and strong and covered in dark hair. “Do let me know if you desire company.” You say on the edge of the bed, listening and trying to picture yourself in the room with him.

“What I desire,” you heard the shuffle off more clothes and you blushed, covering your mouth to prevent a squeal. ~HES NAKED!!~ your heart sang. “is some peace and fucking quiet…” and the bath water sloshed against the sides of the tub. After a moment, he continued. “Been listening to that fucking brat all day.”

Your hand dropped from your mouth and you called out in surprise, turning to face the wall that hid your man. “You… you don’t like Joffrey?”

“Hate the fucker.”

You were overjoyed and stood up to pace. All you wanted to do was talk to him about everything but you were silent, granting him the quiet he asked for. Meanwhile in the bathroom Sandor was listening intensely to you on the other side of the wall as well. He heard your nervous footsteps pacing back and forth and smiled. He cupped the water in his hands and brought it up to wet his face and sighed in relief. He would never had thought to do this for himself, but he was grateful that you did. He looked down in the water and decided that, since it was so dark in the shadow of the tub, you could enter again. {Only to stop her pacing} he thought.

“Oh for fucks sake, princess, come in and tell me what’s on your mind.”

You peeked your head around the corner, hair falling over your shoulder. “Really?”

Your expression made Sandor want to smile again but he fought it, instead resorting to lay his head back and close his eyes.

You eagerly entered the room and told him of your interaction with Cersei today, choosing to leave out the cruel things she said about him. “I don’t believe she endorses what Joffrey’s doing, the way he’s behaving it’s like he’s out of her control. She said she’d have cut my throat and be done with it, but Joffrey was much crueler.” Sandor’s face hardened but he kept his eyes screwed shut.

“Her other children are said to be kind and beautiful… I suppose there are faces even a mother cannot love and Joffrey has one of them.” It was then that you realized that with his eyes closed, you might be able to approach. You felt almost perverted, but your curiosity got the better of you. You had never seen a naked man before, and you were now so attracted to Sandor that you couldn’t help yourself. You wanted to join him in that bath, be held by him.

Your feet carried you forward slowly as you spoke. “It angers me that you have to live your life for that family, for that boy, especially now knowing you hate him too..”

“Careful, girl.” He said warily, peeking open one eye as he felt your approach. “Why?” You stopped then, but still looked down at him sweetly. “Because you bite?” You recalled. You imagined being bitten by him. You moved forward. “You going to sink your teeth into my other thigh?”

Your husbands eyes snapped open at this and he sat up a bit turning his head to face you, shock and something else plastered across it.

“I’m not afraid of you.” you nearly whispered as you sank down beside him and rested your arms on the edge of the tub.

“You should be.” “Why? You won’t hurt me…”

“Oh yes I would. So you best not get close, princess.” You gasped, putting a hand to your chest and reaching out your other to place a finger on his chest. “Oh no, I’ve done it now.”

He furrowed his brows in confusion at you and felt nervous at your gentle touch.

“Go on, bite.” You offered up your limp wrist jokingly. Surprisingly, Sandors hands shot up out of the water and grabbed your arm, holding it tightly in place.

“I’ll pull you in this water with me, girl.” You blushed and smiled and he was shocked that his threat had that effect on you. Could you truly be excited by the prospect? “Ah yes. To be in such close proximity with a strong handsome man is truly a fate worse than death.” You mocked your punishment.

“Who you callin’ handsome?” His grip loosened and you wiggled your hand out to point to his chest again.

“You, Sandor Clegane. You are handsome.” And you meant every word.

He frowned again and sighed, trying to lay back down into the water. You walked away and he felt a pang of regret. When you returned from the counter, you got back down on your knees beside him and dipped the sponge into the water. He watched as you rang it out. “Will you tell me about your day? Whose blood is that?”

He reflected for a moment, choosing what to say as you brought the sponge to his chest and began to rub. “No one of your concern.”

You nodded; though you weren’t satisfied you had resolved that this was the most details your husband would give willingly. “May I have your arm?” He sat up again and studied your face as you gently washed his arm with care.

“It was just some of my fellow members of the kingsguard.” He said the word with disdain. “Happened off duty in a tavern.” You glanced up at him as he spoke but didn’t want to jinx how freely he was speaking to you so you continued your work on his large arm.

“You’ve nothing more to worry about. They won’t be speaking ill of you or your family anymore.”

You paused and now focused your gaze on his. “You killed them for me?”

“Killed one, bloodied the others. Gossiping like women they were, the fucking rats. Now they know better…” he concluded, eyes locked on yours as he spoke. You surprised him by throwing your arms around his neck in an embrace. He pushed you away, “Fuck was that?!” “A-A hug?” “I know that! Why’d you do it?!” “Because I…” you felt embarrassed and backed away but he grabbed your arm again. “I don’t know, I just wanted to, I’m sorry…”

The top of your dress had gotten wet in the struggle and he could see the way the silk caressed your breasts, leaving almost nothing to the imagination. “I can do the rest myself.” He ordered as he felt the familiar twitch beneath the water.

You stood up embarrassed and ashamed. “Alright.” You offered peace as you left the room. Your eyes welled with tears but you blinked them away. You feared whatever progress you had made with the man was now all worthless. You had crossed his boundaries, been too forward, and it put him off you. You sighed and walked over to pour yourself a small glass of wine. It was a long time before Sandor came out of the bathroom, and without the fire you grew cold and tired. You pulled the cape he had given you the night before from the closet and wrapped it around your body, it perfectly engulfed you. Your eyes began to close before you heard him clear his throat.

“Are you coming to bed.” He asked, standing beside it with a towel wrapped around his lower half. As much shame as you felt about it, the sight of him like that certainly woke you up.

“Do you want me to?” You asked, still all wrapped up in his cape.

He grumbled, “Sleep in the chair for all I care.”

You took it as an instruction, and so you nodded. “Goodnight, Sandor. I’m sorry I made you uncomfortable.” You turned away from him to your original position, settling back down and closing your eyes. “I was too familiar with you and I forgot my place in your life—“

“Oh shut up.” His gruff voice startled you as it sounded right above you.

Your eyes snapped open and you saw he had extended a hand to you. Hesitantly you took it and he pulled you up quickly, making you gasp. You were right in front of him now, and you were reminded of your wedding night. You looked up at him through your lashes, his hair dripped between your bodies, and he looked down at you, expression soft.

“On the bed.”

Your breath caught in your throat and you felt a jolt of pleasure go right between your thighs. You nodded, eyes not leaving his, and walked to the bed. You laid down against the pillows, knees bent, and watched him rifle through the closet, towel only held up by one hand. Your eyes did their best to see in the dark as he finally selected a new pair of breeches and dropped the towel. He dropped the towel and quickly pulled the bottoms on. You prayed he didn’t put a shirt on. He turned and took a couple of steps toward you, crossing his arms over his broad chest.

“You think me handsome?”

You nodded slowly, unsure where this was going. “Yes, ser.”

“Not ser.”

“Yes my lord…”

You could see his face more clearly now in the moonlight, and watched him grin. “You dream of my pretty face?” He stalked toward your side of the bed and you tried not to squirm under his gaze.

“Of your handsome face.. yes..”

He climbed on top of the bed and began to crawl to you on all fours. Another time when you felt incredibly small compared to him. Your heart felt like it was about to beat outside of its cage. “Do you wish I would touch you?” He asked hotly, at last up by your face. “Sink my teeth into your thigh, that’s what you said…”

His face dipped closer to yours and you let out a small, uncontrollable moan at his words. You closed your eyes in embarrassment and slid down the bed a little. “I asked you a question, princess.”

“Yes.” You whispered.

“Aw, cats finally got your tongue.” He held himself up with one arm and brought his opposite hand up to your lip as he ran his thumb across it. Your brain was too frazzled by the moment to think clearly; there was only instinct left.

You boldly stuck your tongue out and licked a small stripe across the tip of his thumb and he inhaled sharply. He opened his eyes again at you, surprised, but did not protest as you moved your mouth to wrap around his thumb and suckle. He even moved it in and out of your mouth and his breathing shuttered. You felt wetness begin to pool between your thighs.

“Do you tease me on purpose?” He asked quietly. You weren’t sure how to answer so you only continued your ministrations on his thumb. He let out a heavy breath and pulled back, taking his hand away from you. He sat up on his knees and you could see the tent forming in his pants.

“How long have you wanted me?”

You blushed and sat up a bit yourself. “Since the first night we spent together…”

“A lie.” He said coldly. “I saw how scared you were when I ripped off your dress.”

“I didn’t know you… I thought you were going to hurt me like Joffrey said to… but later,” you nearly cringed at your admission, “I dreamt about you…”

He only watched you, breathing through his mouth in disbelief. “Do you really think me ugly?” You asked finally.

He narrowed his eyes at you and questioned, “Who told you that?”

“When you didn’t want me, I just—“

“I think you’re the most gorgeous creature I’ve ever laid eyes on…” slowly he leaned down again, hovering above you. You breathed in his clean scent and trembled. He scanned your face and you felt the biggest emotion you’d had this far.

“You know you’ve never kissed me…”

“Aye..” he agreed, eyes darting to your lips. “Sandor.. please?” You begged in a whisper and his lips enveloped yours in a second.

The kiss was hot and crushing, and his scruff felt perfect against your face. You opened your mouth and wrapped your arms around his neck once again to pull him closer, as if that were possible. Your heart beat erratically and you grew breathless from his kisses, airy moans leaving your mouth every time he pulled back for only a second.

“Do you really want me?” His voice was thick, and he seemed breathless as well as he pulled back and hovered a few inches above your face.

You cupped his face as your eyes memorized every line in his face. “I want you, Sandor. I need you!” You said in desperation, and in that moment nothing was more true. You leaned your head up and claimed his lips again with your own, and he returned the passion from before.

TO BE CONTINUED

[akiizayoi4869]

The Southern Raiders

Been meaning to make my own post about this episode for a while now, so here it is. The main thing I hear about this episode is that Aang didn't understand Katara's pain at all but Zuko did. The notion that a genocide survivor doesn't understand another genocide survivor is certainly one hell of a take, and it's very stupid. Are we really going to forget the air nomad genocide?

Aang lost EVERYTHING because of the war. And to make it worse? He feels guilty because he wasn't there to stop it from happening (even though he wouldn't be able to do much since he hadn't mastered the four elements yet) because he ran away from his duties as the avatar. When Aang finds Monk Gyatso's body in the Southern Air Temple episode, he's overcome with so much grief and anger that he triggers the avatar state:

Katara herself even compares what she's been through to what Aang was feeling in this moment by saying "I know how hard it is to lose the people you love! I went through the same thing when I lost my mom." Certainly sounds like two people who understand each other perfectly if you ask me. Also, in the Lost Adventures comics, we're shown that the Fire Nation used a dirty tactic to smoke out any other airbenders that might have escaped from the genocide.

We see how happy Aang was to learn that some airbenders may have survived, only to find out that it was all a lie to capture any remaining survivors. At the end of the comic he looks disappointed and crushed knowing that the possibility that air nomads fell for this trick and were killed as a result.

A lot of people take Katara saying "I knew you wouldn't understand" to Aang as her saying that he doesn't understand her pain, but if you actually look at the context? That's not what she's saying at all. What she means is that she knew that Aang wouldn't understand her need for VENGEANCE. For her desire to kill her mother's killer. Because Aang was taught that revenge isn't the answer. Even though Aang absolutely understands how she felt, something that he says himself:

In both of those moments he felt extreme anger and hatred, both strong negative feelings that would have caused him to lash out and do something that he would regret later on. Who stops him in both cases? Katara. She calms him down (and can I just say that I think it's really poetic that in this specific episode, Aang's words are what calms Katara down in the end, and is why she decided to spare Yohn Rha?) in his moments of rage, something that he's grateful for.

Another argument that I've seen is that Zuko understands her pain more than Aang because he also lost his mother. While I can see why people make this comparison, those are two entirely different situations. Ursa was banished because she protected Zuko from being killed when he was a child. Which means that she's still alive (as we later find out from those horrible comics). Kya, on the other hand, was KILLED because she protected Katara by saying that she was the waterbender that they were looking for. This happened in a genocidal raid by the Fire Nation. Safe to say that Zuko can never understand what that feels like.

Also, it's pretty crazy to me how people can say that Aang was wrong in this episode, when Zuko HIMSELF says that Aang was actually right, and that what Katara needed in the end wasn't revenge. Aang knows Katara a lot better than Zuko does, and he knows that killing the man who killed her mom would have absolutely destroyed Katara because of the kind of person she is. Just like Aang remembering how he killed all of those Fire Nation soldiers in the North Pole while he was in the avatar state and being controlled by his past lives and the ocean spirit caused him to have nightmares and be terrified of what the avatar state can do. Both of them are alike in that regard. The closest thing I can say that Zuko understands about Katara is her anger. Boy spent 3 seasons being angry so he definitely understands that. But other than that? He doesn't understand her, which is to be expected since he just joined them a few episodes ago, and spent a whole year chasing them and trying to capture Aang. So he's just started getting to really know everyone on a personal level. In conclusion, Aang did indeed understand Katara, and his words were exactly what she needed to hear.

[sokkastyles]

I think it's implied that Azula started firebending before Zuko did, and not even just that Zuko started at a later age than Azula. If Azula 5 or 6 in the flashback in Azula in the Spirit Temple when she first starts firebending, then I think Zuko hadn't started firebending yet as a 7 or 8 year old. And that probably informs the reactions we see in the comics from their parents as well.

I mean, I think Ozai would have very much held Zuko's lack of firebending over his head. My theory is that Ozai's disfavor of Zuko began to fester as soon as Zuko was born, due to Ozai protecting his own insecurities onto Zuko (and also being jealous that Zuko divided Ursa's attention). This would be easy for Ozai to do since Zuko is both his firstborn and a boy.

So by the time Azula comes along, Ozai is already convinced that Zuko is a failure (and it's possible that there were disfavorable omens when Zuko was born that fed into that perception, maybe Zuko was late learning to walk or talk, etc.) and that he will be a late bloomer, or maybe not a bender at all.

And poor Zuko, for his part, becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy, as kids often do when they live in a household where the adults in their lives don't expect them to flourish. So every time Zuko failed to hit a certain milestone, Ozai would use that to either torment him or Ursa on how her son was a failure.

So when Azula is born, Ozai is determined that she will be everything Zuko is not. And maybe Azula does things that encourage this perception. We know she's precocious, and again, it's a self-fulfilling prophecy. Ozai gets pleasure out of giving Azula every praise and advantage he denied to Zuko. How long before either of the children began to make a single spark do you think Ozai was telling his family how sure he was that Azula would firebend first, and rubbing it into their faces how that meant Zuko was a failure?

I think this fits with both the reactions we see from Zuko and Azula as young children in the comics. A lot has been made of that scene in Azula in the Spirit Temple when Ursa reacts with fear and disappointment on seeing her daughter bending, while Ozai is exuberant and demands Ursa praise their daughter. We, the audience, know who Ozai is. We know his excitement for his daughter's firebending skills is not out of caring or pride for his daughter, but all about himself and the weapon he wants to make Azula into. There is reason for Ursa to be fearful, here, but it's fear of Ozai, not fear of her daughter. And, as the comic also states, fear for Azula.

I also want to go back to that scene in the Search where we see young Zuko coming to his mother, waking from a nightmare where Azula has set his room on fire. Both Azula and Zuko are very young in this scene, and of course Zuko's fear is ridiculous. Neither of the children have started bending yet.

But if Ozai had already been telling his family how strong Azula was going to be, and how weak Zuko was in comparison, that explains very well Zuko's fear.

There's also something here of fire as an element both prized and feared by those who wish to control it, and I think both children learned very quickly the dual nature of fire and made it a core aspect of their personality.

I think about that image of baby Zuko in awe of Iroh's flames in Legacy of the Fire Nation. How long before the wonder of fire turned to fear, and anxiety because he just couldn't seem to measure up?

Can you imagine how terrifying it was for all of them living with Ozai? Not because he was physically violent, but because of the violence in his threats, the subtle reminders of how his rage could be turned on those who didn't meet his expectations at any moment. And he'd already made up his mind that Zuko would never meet his expectations and that Azula had to. No wonder Zuko learns to fear his sister at an early age. No wonder Azula learns that it's better to be feared than to be a disappointment.

[fsfghgee]

Warning: Long dive. Bi-Han and Sektor's relationship part 2 (+ Bi-Han's redemption)

Honestly, I think people who are expecting to see Bi-Han flirting with Sektor in the expansion will be disappointed, 'cause Bi-Han isn't like Johnny Cage or Kung Lao. He really is not that kind of guy…

And he's damn far from it. Even if Bi-Han and Sektor do have a romantic relationship, I'd bet anything that in the intros they'll just be praising each other, reaffirming vows of loyalty, talking about the clan's defectors, making more plans together, giving each other advice, and hopefully talking about their parents. And that's it.

'praising her is something he does often"

I don't know about our new Sektor, but Bi-Han is not the type who flirts and the way he doesn't like to follow traditions, does everything together with Sektor and treats his female subordinates as if they were any other subordinate (I think everyone saw how he got a face-to-face with Cyrax… And if Frost really is already part of the Lin Kuei, I doubt she's getting any special treatment either…), I'd say he takes gender equality really seriously and chivalry in Bi-Han's language is letting her shoot first.

And most importantly…

He takes his position very seriously. The fights between Bi-Han and Sektor will be just sparring, but I doubt he would treat even that lightly. If he is romantic, which I personally doubt (I wouldn't put my hand in the fire for that), we will never know because even his perception of romance is independent. I believe that his romanticism comes down to heroic acts, like probably giving his life for Sektor's…

I mean, the person who built the armor was Sektor, so the woman who is fighting alongside Bi-Han in OutWorld can only be Sektor. And to me, it looks like they were about to take her instead of Bi-Han (and remembering that their target was Geras who they also take with them).

.... Or stroking her ego (which is almost as big as his), promising heaven and earth, giving her expensive gifts, maybe calling her his queen when they're alone, being a bit too touchy-feely when he's needy…

I imagine that as a self-centered mama's boy (I love him, but that's just who he is), he must prefer people to give him attention instead of giving attention, I can even imagine him enjoying a cuddle with a gentle petting, honestly.

And the way Sektor seemed surprised by Bi-Han's reaction to Cyrax... I believe she's not used to seeing him angry around her, I doubt she hears anything from him other than compliments.

After all, Bi-Han was the one who sensed that she was his kindred spirit…

What are kindred spirits?"Kindred spirits are like-minded and like-souled people with whom an instant connection of love and understanding is mutually experienced," clinical psychologist Carla Marie Manly, Ph.D., tells mbg. "The connection is inimitable and often defies verbal description."

People who share common interests, values, or worldviews might be described as kindred spirits. "In more spiritual words, we could say that they resonate at the same frequency, and there is matching energy between them," Katherine Bihlmeier, a relationship coach specializing in energy work, tells mbg.

And it's Sektor who rescues Bi-Han in the story mode, not Scorpion, her lines don't appear like all the dlc, but she's clearly the one rescuing him. She joins KuaiSc's mission to rescue Geras just to rescue Bi-Han.

You can hear that she's the one who recognizes him first and sounds really worried about him…

In fact, in the first trailer for the story mode expansion, you can see Sektor fighting alongside Bi-Han already turned into Noob Saibot but with his mind under his own control again.

He's fighting the khaos versions of Cyrax and Sektor...

We can see Bi-Han fighting alongside Liu Kang too, fighting SubZeroChaos, TakedaChaos like in the datamined script…

And again, although I'm still a little bit confused about their fate…

Will Sektor really sit back and accept the Lin Kuei being punished by Liu Kang and leaving Bi-Han locked up in the temple? Honestly, I highly doubt it.

I have no problem with the nature of their relationship, whatever it is. I'm a Lin Kuei fan, so Sektor getting some love kinda warms my heart since it never happened before...

And I think if it's well written it could be really interesting and make Bi-Han's character more multidimensional. Since he literally has no one else besides Sektor to lean on... Cyrax will desert them.

Hopefully, Noob Saibot ending will show us what will become of Bi-Han Sub-Zero in mk1.

...

edit: With the revealed Sektor trailer, we saw that Bi-Han ended up in Havik's hands when he jumped after him trying to strike him and accidentally ended up entering the portal that Havik had opened.

[xxnashiraxx]

Pairing: Astarion/f!Tav ~ Astarion/f!OC (Ofelia) Word Count: 9,709 Tags/Warnings: 18+ MDNI, Does this Count as Monster Smut?, Oral, PIV Sex, Fingering, Masturbation, Stomach Bulge, Blood Drinking, Very Minor Dubcon (if you squint), Choking Summary: A gifted grimoire from her friends spells trouble when Ofelia accidentally summons an incubus. ~ An Incubus Astarion AU lovingly written and inspired by this artwork by @poofroom featuring my Tav and longfic main character, Ofelia!

divider here🩸

AO3 | Song Reference: Christian Woman by Type O Negative

I'm hoping to complete at least 4 prompts this month, once a week, but my main fic is my upmost priority! Still, I'm really excited to share this one!! @khywren really inspired me with their recent AMAZING writings, please check out their Kinktober 2024 works so far! You won't be disappointed! 🖤

No forgiveness,

For her sins.

Prefers punishment.

Would you suffer eternally?

Or internally?

For her lust,

She’ll burn in hell.

Her soul done medium well.

***

“There, all done!” Ofelia says to herself, dropping the white chalk she’d used to draw the symbol from the spellbook. It’d been a silly present from one of her friends- a gag gift, really. Spirit of the season and all that. What else is she supposed to do on a Friday night after three pina coladas and zero luck?

All her prospects were dull, and all of them had made some kind of backhanded remark about her intelligence or appearance at some point during the conversation that her interest had waned instantly. She’d definitely been to better Halloween parties.

For her own amusement, she sits and holds a candle up, briefly reading over the pages. She’s got the first ingredient, flickering restlessly in her other hand, the food offering to her right (a popcorn ball), something to channel the energy (a crystal that came with the book), and currency of some kind (a few quarters from her laundry fund). The last requirement is her blood.

“Whatever,” She shrugs, setting the candle down on its point in the star before leaning over to grab the pocket knife she’d used to open the package. She’s still tipsy, and explaining away a bandaged hand tomorrow doesn’t seem like that big of an issue to her at the moment.

She carefully presses the blade's tip into the meat of her palm and drags in one clean slice, wincing and holding her hand over the point closest to her. Droplets dot the white chalk with red and she clenches her fingers, waiting until there’s a small puddle, before getting up to grab her first aid kit and wrap the wound. Once reseated, she examines the page, noting something looks off, but neglecting to read further into why the diagrams are different before reciting the words at the bottom of the page.

She holds her breath, eyes scanning the apartment, before settling back on the circle. And… nothing happens.

“Oh!” She gasps when the candle blows out, expecting some kind of grand entrance- maybe a ring of fire! Or a black pit, opening within the symbol! But nothing comes.

She pouts dejectedly and gathers the items up before chucking them all into a box. She glares at the book, clasped between her fingers, and sighs. If anything, she’d hoped for a little excitement from this tonight- but magic isn’t real, and despite her alcohol-addled mind, she was a fool to think she could conjure it.

She gets up and opens her top dresser drawer, tossing the book in without a second thought as she checks the time on her phone- almost one. She walks into the living space, which is technically still part of her bedroom and separated only by a meager curtain. Her TV is off and silent against the wall, and she pulls her hoodie off to toss over the back of her couch.

The cool air flows in from her window AC and blesses the exposed skin around her costume- she’d gone as a devil, the strapless red bodysuit and pink tights still clinging to her. She pulls the headache-inducing horned headband off and sets it next to her sweater, turning and scanning the room for her prize. She smiles when she sees it, fetching the half-empty bottle of Malibu from the counter before downing it until her fingers numb and a delightful buzz thrums in her head. The night had been long, and an untold amount of sticky fluids had gotten on her legs, arms, and torso during the party so a shower before turning in feels like the perfect idea.

She goes into the bedroom to tug the bodice of the costume down until her breasts are free, breathing a sigh of relief when the constricting fabric is finally off. Her tights follow after, leaving her in nothing but her underwear as she moves towards her dresser. Her eyes linger on the book when she opens the drawer to pull out a night dress and she almost closes it before cocking a brow. Her hand hovers over her favorite slip as her eyes fall onto the page she’d been referencing when she drew the circle, but she swears it had been closed when she’d thrown it inside. The scrawl below it almost looks handwritten, not printed, but when Ofelia tries to read it, goosebumps gradually spread over her arms and legs and she scoffs at the words she can decipher.

“What the hell does ‘mind-altering satisfaction’ mean?” She mutters as she closes the book and grabs her dress before shoving the drawer closed again.

She starts the shower before discarding the remaining scrap of cloth into her hamper, leaning against her sink to wipe her makeup off. Tossing the cotton pads into the trash, she jumps under the hot stream, a low hum leaving her lips. It feels amazing as it rushes over her skin and douses her hair. She runs her hands up over her body, jumping when she caresses the sides of her breasts. They’re extra sensitive, and in her tingling, buzzing mind she feels her stomach tighten in response.

She shrugs. No one had been worthy to take home anyway. Might as well make the most of the night.

Her fingers ghost over her nipples and she sinks her teeth into her bottom lip in an effort to stifle the sound that nearly tears out of her throat. Stars dance behind her eyes and she laughs incredulously, wiping the hair plastered to her cheeks away. It’d never felt this intense, and curiosity coaxes her hands lower as she carefully slips a finger between her legs.

“God!” She hisses, catching herself before she falls onto the tiled floor. Her vision nearly whites under the slightest glance against her clit and she heaves for breath, both palms pressing against the wall. She’d only drank her usual cocktails, and had been watching her drink like a hawk all night, so being exposed to something slipped into her glass at the party is out of the question. She shakes her head, cursing as her clit begins to throb steadily against the water streaming down the front of her body. She suppresses another groan, clenching her thighs together as she rinses out the remaining suds from her hair.

The need humming through her veins is almost blinding, and with shaking hands she pushes her hair back before leaning against the wall. She won’t fall this time… won’t fall…

She cries out as she runs her middle finger along her slit, teeth sinking into the soft skin of her forearm. Her entire body shakes from the pleasure of it, so intense that it weakens her knees and she almost buckles to the floor again. She bites harder to center herself, afraid of the bruise that will surely stand out in the morning, but she’ll manage.

She dips between her folds, the slick beneath so copious she can feel it through the stream from the showerhead. She moans and cautiously presses a finger inside, slowly, but no matter how careful she could have been, it doesn’t stop the sharp coil in her gut and the shockwave of ecstasy that flashes from the roots of her hair down to the tips of her toes.

She mewls like an untouched virgin, mind hazy with want. This… this is unlike anything she’s ever felt- not like she’s had much experience in that department- but every nerve feels like it’s on fire. The shower turns to ice and she has to step out, body quivering and skin clammy despite the temperature of the water.

She grabs the towel, whining as the fabric rubs against the sensitive flesh on her breasts before slipping her nightgown over her head. The thin black satin and lace clings to her and she stares at the mess in the mirror as she dries her hair, eyes catching on the stiff peaks on her chest straining against the fabric. They trail up over her arms and her shoulders before stopping and freezing.

“What the hell…?” She whispers, dropping the towel to press up against the sink again, trying to ignore the little shivers of pleasure when her nipples rub against the chilled granite. Her fingers seek the strange marks that circle her neck almost like a tattoo, the dashes and squiggles familiar, almost…

There’s no way. There’s no way.

Ofelia doesn’t stop to pick her towel up off the floor, sweat making her damp hair stick to her face and neck as it breaks out over her entire body. She opens the drawer once more to the book open, not closed as she’d left it. She swears and pulls it out, setting it on top as she looks at the scrawl over the page opposite to the sigil. It’s indecipherable, in some kind of language or symbols she can’t read, but it matches the marks on her skin perfectly. Whatever they are, they’re definitely a result of the ritual, and Ofelia sinks into a sitting position on her mattress as regret fills her mind.

I shouldn’t have done that. God, I’m so stupid. Mama warned me never to mess with this stuff. Ofelia chews on her cuticles, nervous energy humming alongside the desire burning in her body. Every sense of hers is attuned to the way the slip touches her skin, how her clit throbs for attention, how she clenches around nothing, aching to fill the void.

It isn’t natural, and that fact scares her more than she’d like to admit. She pushes the craving to touch out of her mind, grabbing a fresh pair of underwear before crawling beneath her duvet. It’s hot, so hot… her skin feels like lava- her heart beat skyrocketing. Maybe she’s going to die?

“Oh god, I’m so stupid. So stupid!” She sobs, shoving her face into the pillow as she lays on her stomach. The pressure makes her roll her hips before she can stop herself and she whimpers, biting the silk pillowcase to redirect her frustration. Maybe she should give in and see if that’ll end this torment, but the unease of the situation needles at her mind... She rolls over and tugs the blanket around her chin, twisting her hips and drumming her fingers over her stomach. The length of the day settles over her shoulders and it weighs her down despite the sweat on her skin and the ache between her legs. She tries not to picture the relief she’d feel if her legs were spread instead, slip tugged over her chest, underwear discarded. She groans and shuts her eyes, somehow drifting off to sleep.

She dreams in scattered images, flashing across her vision like a picture show. Hot, begging, on her knees. A man with strong hands and sharp teeth touches her heated skin, peels her dress off, mouths at her breasts… her haggard breathing is audible in the room, echoing off the walls, her hips rolling into his touch, her mouth closing around-

Her eyes fly open, the curtains in front of her window fluttering in the breeze as the clock registers that it’s only one thirty. It takes a moment to adjust to the darkness, and she vaguely recalls not leaving it open… The covers fall off her chest when she sits up, soft moonlight pouring in to paint her body a cool blue. The slip rides up her hips, breasts spilling out the sides, and something moves out of the corner of her vision that sparks gooseflesh to spread over her bare thighs and arms.

The curtain flutters away, revealing the silhouette of a man. Except it isn’t a man… As the light illuminates the hard cut of his torso, bat-like wings stretch and unfurl on either side of him, wicked horns curling up and over his silver hair. Red irises glow in the night, trained on her face, a tail swishing behind him. She doesn’t breathe, doesn’t move- her heart pounds, but her body reacts in a way she hadn’t expected. Her skin breaks out in the same feverish sweat that she’d felt before crawling into bed, her stomach aching and her breathing coming in short pants. She chances a glance in the full length mirror across the room, her cheeks flushing red at the uselessness of her night dress. The marks that had started at her neck circle her wrists and close around her thighs like bands.

“Am I dreaming?” She asks softly, unable to resist the pull she feels towards him. He takes a step and she tenses, eyes admiring his broad shoulders, ornamental silver bracers covering each forearm. Most of his body is bare, save for the thin piece of satiny fabric and gilded chains covering his hips. Her eyes trace the trail of hair that disappears beneath, down until her breath chokes out of her. Her thighs press together at the hard outline beneath the loincloth, her imagination filling in the gaps- thick, straining, throbbing. Her mouth floods with saliva and she swallows thickly as the steady pulse from earlier begs for attention, shame dissolving as his crimson gaze flows down over her exposed breasts. The sudden urge to touch him fills her mind until it’s all she can think about, even as he opens his mouth to expose sharp canines.

“I’m afraid not.” His voice, smooth and velvety, covers her body like honey. She shivers as he takes another step, so close now that she can see the sharp tips of his ears beneath his hair. His lips curl into a fiendish grin and she shakes her head, wanting him closer, god, she can’t take the distance anymore. Some fire’s possessing her and she feels herself clench again, the sudden instinct to grind against the mattress and relieve the tension leaving her dazed. Her mind roars, wanting more than anything she’s ever wanted before to have him touch her. It drowns rational thoughts, save for a single line of curiosity.

“What are you?” She can’t help but ask, though her eyes can’t be deceiving her. He appraises her with a considering gleam, his wings folding back and out of the way. The horns have to be enough- the devilish tail. His soft laugh covers her body in a fresh wave of heat and she closes her eyes.

“You summoned me, shouldn’t you know?” She opens her eyes and he’s hovering right across from her at the end of the bed. Eye level with his stomach, she bites back the whimper of need that tries to push past her clenched teeth at the sight of him, his little strip of fabric doing nothing but veiling the color of his skin. She feels a gush of wetness between her legs as she clenches and strains to stay still, huffing her breath out.

“Didn’t think it would work. Are you the one that’s doing this to me?” She mutters, too late to cover her breasts but she does it anyway- anything to remain in the illusion of control. The sharp tick of his smile tells her he isn’t buying it, and she widens her eyes in surprise when his wings disappear. He drops his knees onto the mattress and she yelps when it dips.

Fuck… he’s real.

“What did you think would happen when you opened a black grimoire and chose a spell? That an imp would pop up and throw money at you?” She bites her lip, watching his long black fingernails clench the duvet and pull it farther down the bed.

“Well…” His eyes flash with annoyance.

“All you humans are the same- power, money, fame, wealth. Make a mistake? Wrong page?” She bristles at his sudden chiding, cursing her friends for giving her the damn thing. She’s going to throttle them tomorrow.

“So what? Can’t you just go back to where you came from?” She sucks in a breath when he draws closer, hands planting themselves on either side of her ankles. She watches him carefully, the way the light shines through the thin fabric of his loincloth to show her the heavy shadow of his cock beneath, and she bites the inside of her cheek when her clit throbs at the sight.

“I’m contracted, stupid mortal. Your blood has bound me to this plane. I can't just go back.” He sneers and she squirms as he crawls forward again, his head hovering over her hips. Her mind imagines filthy things with him so close, her body betraying her as her thighs untense and spread softly- barely a few inches- but it’s enough. She watches his gaze drop to the arms covering her chest, then lower, and she snaps her legs back together.

“Um… sorry. What contract? What does it entail?” He looks back up at her, lips pressed into a firm line of disappointment and she glares back.

“You didn’t read the fine print?”

“What fine fucking print? I can’t read half the words on those pages!” She cries out indignantly, not realizing her frustrated gesturing has left her chest exposed again. He surges forward quicker than she can react and with the sharp edges of his nails, he rips the straps off her dress, causing her breasts to fall free properly. She yelps, instinctively trying to cover up again but he snaps his fingers and the script on her wrists glows, making her palms flatten against the bed.

“I’ll let you guess the terms,” He murmurs, sitting back on his heels. She squirms, trying to free her arms, and when he snaps his fingers again she can lift them.

“What- what was that?” She whispers, fear clouding her voice. He smirks, his hands resting on his thighs, and gestures towards the dresser.

“Says it in the fine print.”

“Please?” She whimpers, hugging her torso tightly. She’s afraid- afraid of the patterns on her thighs, on her wrists, on her neck. She stares at them warily, the terror that had been muted by her lust now stretching into every part of her body. What’s going on? What is he? What’s going to happen to me?

“Tssk,” He settles back fully, legs crossing on her mattress. Her eyes move over his face again, catching on his pretty red eyes, his full lips. The slope of his nose is beautiful- strong and sharp. She traces his features, finding her heartbeat slowing slightly the longer she takes him in. His lips part, revealing those sharp fangs on both the top and bottom row of his teeth, and she idly wonders what they’d feel like on her neck, on her skin… “Darling… I can’t have you afraid of me. That’s not how this night is going to go.” His soft voice makes her shiver and she’s lulled by the sound of it. She raises her head slightly, gaze growing heavier the longer he stares at her.

“How this night is going to go…?” She echoes, slow, the end shaped like a question. His tail swishes back and forth before the spade tip caresses up her calf. With him finally touching her, she gasps, the softest glance magnified like it was earlier. She shudders, pressing her thighs more tightly together, shaking her head, but her body eventually wins out.

“The terms, dear…” He murmurs, leaning forward again. Her skin is feverish when his tail draws away and he crawls over her again. She shrinks back, lying against her pillows, his thighs caging her in as his hands settle on either side of her head.

“Uh…” She stammers, trying to get a coherent thought through. He’s so close she can see small flecks of gold in his eyes and the soft ridges on his horns. She finds herself wanting to caress them, the thought causing her cheeks to burn. “Terms… right. The spell is making me… making my body act like this?” She whispers cautiously and he nods, encouraging her to continue. “It made these… weird tattoos show up on my skin… and you can control them?” He nods again, eyes twinkling in amusement. Her nostrils flare in irritation, but she keeps going, realization finally dawning as she approaches the conclusion.

“I… this lust… oh my god…” He tuts, smirking with satisfaction.

“You finally understand?” The growl in his voice makes her eyes flutter shut. With the answer flaring brightly behind her lids, her body opens up in a way it hadn’t before. Her thighs spread until they’re pushing against his knees, her breath leaving her in a rush. She clenches around nothing, thinking about the shape of him under the loincloth and when her eyes snap open again he laughs, deep and sugared.

“You want my body?” She asks breathlessly, the slip hanging over her stomach becoming itchy and unbearable. His lashes fall halfway and when his forked tongue darts across his lower lip she whimpers in response.

“Usually you call an incubus because you need relief, but… your scent is maddening and I've barely even touched you…” He purrs, lips dropping down to her jaw. She moans at the slightest touch, her cunt clenching again followed by a rush of wetness dripping down her folds. Her underwear are long since ruined, and she slowly moves her hands up, hesitating over him.

“Can I… touch you?” She gasps, the last threads of restraint slowly snapping. He pulls away, hungry eyes raking over her face and neck and down to her breasts. She tugs her lower lip into her mouth, watching him nod, before caressing the planes of his chest.

His skin is so hot… a lovely shade of light rose. Her fingers ghost over his collarbones before pressing up, up, to the sides of his face. His crimson gaze flicks back up to meet hers and she teeters over the edge, debating, before he makes the decision for her and leans down to capture her lips.

Wet and messy, their tongues tangle and she whimpers into his mouth, hands carding through his hair. He tastes divine… or wicked, she isn’t sure which. His kiss is hot, lips soft and she moans against his tongue when his teeth catch on her lip to lightly nip at it. It’s all her favorite flavors at once and she can’t keep her hips on the bed, wanting to pull him in closer, wanting to feel the hard edge of his cock-

“Nnng!” She gasps when he nudges his shaft against her stomach, the weight of it making her dizzy. Her clit pulses and blood pounds through her, vocalizing the wave of desire in breathy pants against his mouth. He doesn’t stay quiet either- the sounds and groans he makes turning her insides to liquid as she rocks against him, hands clawing at his back. His anchor on her dress and a loud tear sounds through the room as he rips it free.

“Hey! That was my favorite!” She protests, but he’s sinking his knees between her thighs and tossing the scraps away, revealing her naked torso to him. The anger dies as she watches him draw back, and can almost feel the burning of his gaze over her body. She squirms again, clamping her legs around his, wanting to hide from the attention but it’s all in vain. All for show. She couldn’t deny him now even if she wanted to.

“Darling, don’t lie. You’re just as impatient as I am,” His voice is deep, sitting in the back of his throat. She inhales sharply, watching him lower himself to press his nose into the hollow of her neck. His cock settles over her heat, separated by two layers of fabric, and before she can grind into it his hands are on her hips, forcing them still.

“God…” She whispers, the steady throb against her aching bud making her jaw go slack. He laps at the skin of her neck, making her legs twitch, before his sharp upper canines sink in. If she’d been delirious before… she’s absolutely lost now.

She cries out, heart pounding as he slowly drags his heavy length over her soaked underwear. His loincloth is covering the image from sight as she angels her jaw down, delighting in every bite he peppers over her neck and shoulder. She drags her fingers over his horns and he groans, hips stuttering, the sound needy and desperate. She continues caressing as his tail flicks in the air, pleased and tenderly mouthing at the aching wounds he’s left on her. They sting, but there’s something new in the mix- churning around her gut and making her mouth spill constant sighs and pants as her vision goes hazy and pink.

“W-what do I call you?” She asks, taking in his messy curls and kiss-swollen mouth. Blood stains his lips and a curl of want pulses south at the sight, wanting him to push her panties to the side and rub directly against her, the pressure so distracting she almost rolls her hips automatically, chasing the feeling of him.

He cocks a brow, inhaling deeply before a delicate smile crosses his face. His tail winds around her leg and she laughs in spite of herself, enjoying the way the tip rubs soft circles into the inside of her thigh.

“Astarion,” He murmurs, and she lowers her hands from his horns, eyes darting to his groin.

“Astarion…” She rolls his name around on her tongue, the subtle shiver that shifts through him not going unnoticed. “Mine’s Ofelia,” She mumbles and he strokes her cheek.

“Ofelia,” She preens at how he says it, a flush spreading over her cheeks in response. Her fingers push into the cloth at his hips, a silent question hanging in the air as she gently tugs on it. He nods and she fiddles with the clasp at the side of his hip before it falls and flutters away, leaving him exposed.

She isn’t sure if it’s the side effects of the spell or simply her own desire, but nothing could have prepared her for the sight of him.

“Oh.” Is all she says, like an idiot. Her eyes admire the girth- thick veins spreading over the shaft. He’s nearly purple at the tip, leaking onto her underwear, and she shifts restlessly at the sight as her mouth floods with saliva and her clit aches as he nudges against it.

“I see I’m going to have to do all the sweet-talking, pet.” She shudders as his hands brush along her trembling stomach muscles, down to her thighs, before guiding her underwear down and off. They run back up the length of her torso, softly squeezing and kneading at the soft flesh of her breasts as his lips catch on one of her nipples. She whimpers at the sensations building inside, chasing his touches with her fingers, craving more contact with an almost crazed fervor. She’s still hypnotized by the length of him as he gently rubs his cock between her puffy folds and she swallows, strangled moans caught in her throat. The hard ridge along his tip drags over her swollen clit and in addition to the lightning bolt of pleasure that coaxes more juices to spill from her, the urge to taste him is so intense that it feels like it’s written on her bones.

“I… I want you here.” She mumbles, fingers tracing her face, and he laughs.

“You want to see… if you can take me… in your pretty mouth…?” He whispers, thumb brushing over her lower lip. She nods desperately, parting them to suck him in as her body trembles in anticipation. His jaw tightens as he watches, her tongue swirling around his warm skin, fierce with desire. She hums when his cock twitches, softly bumping her stomach when he moves as a quiet sound vibrates in his chest. He watches her a moment more, eyes burning, before he shifts to the side and drags her off the bed, onto the floor.

She sits obediently on her knees, closing her eyes as his fingers thread into her hair. His touch is soft, and her face warms as she realizes what he’s doing, but embarrassment has long since receded into the recesses of her mind. He gathers the strands at the back of her head before tugging gently- just the way she likes. She sighs, opening her eyes to shamelessly stare at him, yearning to lick the pearl of glistening pre-cum off his flushed tip. She flicks her eyes up to his and the desire she sees there lights a fire in her belly that spurs her forward, hands resting over his hips as she sets her sights and dives in.

Astarion hisses when she kisses the base of him, bathing him in her attention and affectionate nips. Her thighs shiver as she continues her trail of teasing, his grip on her scalp growing tighter. She flashes him a soft smile before kissing down the weighty length of him, lips parting when she pulls away to watch him leak a silvery strand down to her breasts. She swallows a breathy whine before eagerly lapping it up, her ears ringing from the sharp inhale and throaty groan he gives her when she finally sucks the tip inside.

He fills her entire mouth before she can draw him in further and her cunt clenches with jealousy imagining him pushing inside, on her back, a bruising grip on her hips… Her fantasies play behind her closed lids as she hollows her cheeks and relaxes her jaw to swallow more, moaning lightly as he nudges the back of her throat.

Tears form in her eyes as she blinks up at him, her hips restless as he tugs on her hair and pulls out of her mouth before slowly thrusting inside. The fingers of her free hand trail down her body, pinching at the pebbled flesh on her breasts before dipping lower to alleviate some of the tension winding around her belly. She spreads the slick gathering at her entrance, circling her aching clit, and her eyes squint shut, sobbing at the spark of pleasure that flashes up her body, his cock twitching in her mouth.

“Hells…” He whispers, her mind slowly melting the longer he fucks her mouth. Her entire body aches for him, for this pleasure- she squirms and whimpers, letting him set the pace as she rocks against her hand. He’s considerate of her adjustment period until a glimmering sweat breaks out on his chest and her eyes track a drop as it follows the curve of his pelvic bone. When it meets his shaft a switch flips and she abandons all rational thought for the need to please.

She struggles to take him fully, but every time he needly ruts into her and her lips meet his hips he grunts- a gravelly, greedy thing that stokes the heat in her belly until she’s whimpering and shivering for more. He’s making a mess out of her, and she increases the pace, removing her hand from its previous position to pull his hips in each time they snap forward hungrily. He smears spit and slick over her chin each time he slips out until it's dripping over her breasts and fingers, her thumbs swirl the fluid over the stiff peaks of her nipples as waves of pleasure rumble through her- just as strong as it had been in the shower, perhaps even more.

They lock eyes as he angles her chin to take more of him, electricity shooting through her as her tongue swirls around before lingering on the sensitive underside of his head. He yanks her hair and hisses, in one fluid motion pistoning inside and she moans on his cock. Her mind is blissfully blank as he pins her against the side of the bed, reveling in the way he twitches and cups her cheek as he drives in and out, in and out at a languid pace. The blunt head of his cock kisses the back of her throat again, his stomach muscles tightening, and her fingers brush over the seam of his balls until his hips stutter and a raspy moan pours from his mouth. She holds his gaze, taking him impossibly deeper, and she whines in disapproval when he slips out with a lewd pop.

“Can’t have you driving the whole time, darling,” He murmurs, and she gasps when he leans down to meld their lips together in a bruising kiss. The enthusiasm behind his touches makes her hum happily and he places a hand over her throat before squeezing and forcing her to stand. His tight grip makes her dizzy and she sways on her feet, mind blank, as he chuckles and presses them tightly together.

“Like that, do you?” He murmurs in her ear and she nods, wrapping her arms around his waist as his sharp canines brush against her skin.

“Do you… drink the blood?” She whispers, brief flashes of curiosity drifting through her lust-clouded mind.

“Hmm?” She draws back so their lips brush, the striking scarlet of his eyes inquisitive and rapt.

“You had blood on your lips earlier, when you bit me…” She whispers, watching his face shift in recognition.

“Ahh… that.” He grins, a fang peeking out from under his top lip and it’s the cutest thing she’s ever seen. “It’s common for us to partake- the magic in your blood increases your sense of touch and your blood in turn does for us as well. It’s why you needed to sacrifice it for the spell.” His smile twists into something sinful, her legs pressing together. “Somehow, I hardly need the encouragement...” He whispers as his hands softly squeeze her ass. She smiles in reply, eyes lingering on his teeth and she hesitantly presses a kiss to his jaw. More follow, light and sweet as his grip fluctuates from gentle to rough when her lips brush over his neck.

“Can I…?” She asks and he nods at her testing teeth before she sinks her own into his skin. He sighs into her ear, his hands caressing her back as his sharp nails lightly scratch over her skin. She whimpers into the marks she leaves him with, nipping up to his earlobe before teasing the skin between her teeth. He stills and groans, grinding his stiff length against her hip and she licks up to the pointed tip before sucking it lightly into her mouth.

“Ofelia…” Her name rumbling in his chest makes her dizzy and she moves her left hand up to tickle the other ear until he’s driving them forward. The back of her knees connect with the mattress and she yelps, falling flat on her back as he stands between her parted thighs. His eyes are dark- the red eclipsed by his blown wide pupils, and her body shivers in fear. She feels hunted, prey beneath a ravenous lion, and the feeling twists her insides as he drops to a crouch and lifts her legs until they’re resting over his shoulders. She almost moans at the sight…

“I can’t leave until you’re satisfied…” He murmurs, nipping at the sensitive flesh of her inner thigh. His fangs graze the skin before he sinks them in and that rosy haze covers her vision again, her mind numb to the rest of the world as she focuses on what his mouth is doing. He’d been right about whatever’s in his saliva or bite as electricity tingles beneath her skin, every one of his touches sending sparks down the length of her body.

“God… I don’t know if I’ll ever get enough of this.” She mumbles, forehead creasing in an effort to concentrate on him. He chuckles darkly, his burning gaze intertwined with hers and as she watches her blood drip from the corner of his lips her body twitches in response. It’s the most erotic thing she’s ever seen, almost hotter than when she’d peeled off the cloth, and she whines under his smug smile.

“Don’t go saying that now…” He whispers as he presses soft kisses up, closer to where she needs him most. “Or I’ll be tempted to show you which page the binding spell is on.” She gasps, not having time to process his words as his tongue darts out to swipe up the seam of her before languidly running back down. Her vision whites, a high-pitched cry tearing from her throat as he circles her clit. The fork in his tongue adds an extra sensation that makes fireworks explode behind her eyes, her hips lifting off the bed as he lightly flicks and dips it lower, embarrassing noises spilling from her lips as she drags her fingers through his hair.

When he circles her entrance, lapping at the slick that’s been dripping down her thighs, she throws her head back and begs, pleading on deaf ears for him to plunge in, his nose pressing into the aching swell of her and it’s just the right amount of pressure-

“Fuck!” She sobs, back arching off the bed as his long fingers push inside in place of his tongue. He licks softly at her clit, pushing the hood back gently and when he sucks she nearly blacks out. His fingers are thick, so warm… he starts with two, working her open, curling in until he nudges the place inside she’s lucky to reach on a good day. It makes her entire body convulse as she clamps her thighs around him, fingers twisting in the sheets as his name tumbles from her lips over and over again like a prayer.

“Another, sweet girl?” The lilt to his voice is so innocent, but the words are pure sin and a shiver runs from the base of her skull to the tip of her spine in response, her babbling incoherent. Instead, she nods, trying to keep her eyes open, focusing on the little vent on her ceiling, anything- god he’s too good…

When he adds another digit she almost comes undone, but he shushes her with a kiss on the inside of her thigh, halting his movements. She’s allowed a few seconds to breathe, gasping for air, propping herself up on her elbows to look at him. His hair is falling from its perfect swoop atop his head, dusting his eyes. He’s so handsome she almost can’t believe this is real, so focused on how hot he looks eating her out that she doesn’t see his arm coiling before he sets the pace again.

Her eyes fly shut and her head falls back, wanton cries filling the air- so loud she’s certain there will be a noise complaint in her mailbox in the morning.

His thumb strokes over her swollen nub as he pushes inside and she’s gone.

Her ankles lock around his head, pulling him deeper as she comes on his tongue and his name leaves her lips over and over, chest heaving as tears pool and spill out of the corners of her eyes. Her hips leave the mattress, her mind unaware how, hands anchored to his horns to keep him there all while his tongue massages her inner walls and draws her pleasure out with every stroke. It’s never been like this- completely blank, delirious, incoherent. It feels like someone’s holding her over a flame and she’s burning, burning, stroking her fingers over the ridges of his horns as he shivers and runs his tongue up over her sensitive clit, making her wail at the overstimulation. Her hips finally meet the mattress again as she dissolves over the messy blanket, realizing his nails had pressed stinging cuts to her buttocks as he’d dragged her over the edge.

“Satisfied?” He whispers, his face hovering over hers. She hadn’t noticed he’d shifted and her hands had fallen, her stare empty and tracking dust motes floating through the beams of moonlight. She focuses on his pretty lips, glistening from his previous ministrations, and she reaches up to pull him into a deep kiss as he stumbles and falls over her, his chuckle stroking some deeply seated, violent thing inside her. He tastes like her, the two of them mixed and she’s tingling from head to toe, so consumed by touching every part of him as her hands explore and roam. They find his neglected length and she softly strokes him with one as the other rests over the nape of his neck to continue sliding their lips together.

“Not yet…” She finally answers him after pulling away to gasp for air, voice ragged. She smiles sweetly, lashes dipped low, wanting him closer. Something about him just burrows inside, familiar and calming. She hadn’t noticed it before, too buried beneath the overpowering magic thrumming through her veins. She’s glad that he’s the one that showed up.

She nuzzles her nose into his hair, the faintest hint of brimstone and ash dusting his white locks. He stutters out a low, breathy moan as she continues to slowly stroke him and in her trance she pulls back to bare her throat for him. She quickens her pace as his teeth sink in once more, drawing filthy moans from her lips as heat coils in her belly. It’s addicting, the pain and pleasure of his sharp teeth. She offers up more of herself to him and her hips snap up into his when his mouth closes around one nipple to puncture the sensitive skin before greedily suckling on it.

“Nnng… ‘starion…” She mumbles, a strangled cry leaving her lips as she spreads the pre-cum weeping from his cock down his shaft, his mouth going rough as he groans in reply. “Need you…” She murmurs and he sucks harder before leaving bleeding crescents over her other breast.

“You taste so good…” He whispers, the soft snap of his fingers wrenching her hands from her control as they come up, above her head, wrists glowing as if he’s holding them himself. The loss of control is staggering, but as he rises, eyes glowing, blood coating his lips, she feels a fierce craving spread low in her body before she’s aching for him and his tongue and fingers won’t suffice this time. She wants the real thing.

“Please…” She whines, straining against her invisible bonds as he presses himself against her slit to coat himself in the wetness there. Slippery, obscene sounds fill the room and the way he slides and catches on her entrance before gliding over her throbbing clit coax her heart to pound harder, a shock sparking between her legs at his low lurching moan.

“Please-!” She repeats, thrashing as he continues, every touch and throb of his cock pure torture. His claws dig into her hips, her mouth spilling every curse and prayer she knows as he prods at her entrance.

“My turn,” He growls, stilling her rocking hips. Her eyes slam closed as she shudders around him, the pain a dull echo as he gradually sinks into her waiting heat. He almost doesn’t fit, eyes latched onto the place he’s desperately trying to defile, and she watches him tremble under the effort of restraint when he finally slips inside. He draws a muffled wail from her as he pushes past her entrance, an iron grip holding her in place as she twists her arms above her, panting and clenching around him as she adjusts to the stretch. She finally relaxes as his hands caress her shivering thighs, letting him gently soothe her tense muscles so he can fully sheath within her.

The feeling of fullness is like nothing else- he occupies every inch as his hips finally meet hers and her breath rushes out of her as if he’s taking up every spare bit of room inside her body. He waits, lower lip anchored beneath twin fangs, and she holds him in her blurring gaze. She can’t breathe, chest tight, the soft sounds building in her chest climbing into a litany of pleading and praise.

“So… much… please move,” She gasps as he reaches up to grab her hands and the bonds vanish, guiding them down to the mattress on either side of her head as their fingers intertwine. He’s close, so close she can see every detail on his face, can see the way his brow tenses and sweat gathers over the creasing flesh. Her thighs press against her chest as he folds her legs back, ankles dangling over his shoulders, and she screws her eyes shut as he dips impossibly deeper inside. The whine that slips out of her gritted teeth as he slowly drags out is nothing compared to the sharp, wailing cry when he pistons back into her. It dwarfs any sound she’s ever made; despite the circumstances, her cheeks burn in reply.

“Astarion!” She sobs, holding on to him for dear life. He sets a slow pace at first and she cries with each movement, repeating his name and twisting her head from side to side. He abandons his restraining grip on one of her hands to press one to her throat, stilling her writhing, lips pulled into a fangy grin.

“Eyes on me, pet.” He whispers. She gasps, clenching at the sound of his voice and the tight clutch over her neck. “I’m going to fill you… over… and over… and over…” Her eyes fly shut and she arches into him, mind fogging as he continues to thrust with rough, slow snaps of his hips. “Hells… barely been inside you for a minute… and you’re already brainless.”

“Fuck you,” She gasps when his hand disappears from her neck, a finger pad pressing to her clit to rub soft circles against it.

“That’s the idea,” He chuckles, dropping his lips to kiss her, scattering them over her jaw, neck, and chest. His hot tongue swirls over one nipple, then the other, the pressure building in her lower stomach faster than the first time. Whatever magic flows through her veins, it’s causing her vision to blur, her chest to feel light and her heart to crash against her ribs. Every drag of his cock steals her breath, every whispered word makes her impossibly wetter- afraid to look at the mess in the morning. He squeezes her breasts and her eyes flutter closed, the sensation of stroking on her bundle of nerves making her jump-

“Is that…?” She doesn’t finish, watching his tail flick in the air with a smirk before he descends on her again. “I… I don’t know how much longer-”

“Let go,” He interrupts, tongue flicking over the peaks of her breasts before he locks their gazes once more. She whines, lost in the tide of his thrusts and the way he feels inside her. He so big… so full… she can’t help the way she squeezes and pulls him in each time he pounds back inside, drawing guttural growls from his throat as obscenely wet sounds fill the room. “You’re so good, Ofelia…” He murmurs, fingernails digging into the plump flesh of her thighs as his voice pulls the coil tighter. “Creaming all over my cock.” She bites her lip, his tail rubbing and stroking and pushing her closer and closer and-

“Astarion!” She sobs, every thread unraveling and burning out. There’s an entire night sky sprawled out before her closed eyelids as he fucks her through her climax, every sound he makes sending shockwaves through her after the initial crest and fall. When she finally looks at him, his cheeks are flushed and his eyes are nearly black, his cock twitching inside her.

“So… tight…” He mumbles, hands resting over her hips as his thrusts become more erratic. He’s pulsing, growing hotter, filling her more until she feels like she’s going to shatter around him, dragging against the spot inside her that leaves her breathless and panting for more and she’s afraid it’ll never be enough. He rests a hand over the bulge in her stomach, over the shape of him, and the pressure makes her gush around his twitching cock.

“Please…” She whimpers, vision hazy around the edges. She isn’t sure what she’s begging for, but he seems to understand. He presses a kiss to her lips as her pounding heart fills the silent air, hands coming up to scratch at his back and cry his name, his cock pulsing and-

Hot and powerful, he spills inside her with a strangled cry. She's almost afraid he'll never stop, filling her until she’s sure she can't hold anymore. Watching his face twist in pleasure as his hips still, gripping her waist to the point she’ll see marks in the morning, she whimpers and pulls him in for another bruising kiss. He plunges into her mouth like a starving man and she greedily matches his fervor, stroking his sides, pressing her palms against his chest, and running her fingers through his hair.

Her belly feels warm, full of his come, and his gaze darkens as he strokes the swell of flesh below her navel before flicking back up to her face. Trailing wisps of coherent thought dissolve into the recesses of her brain as his softening length begins to stiffen again, a soft growl slipping out of his mouth as his body jerks forward and he slides easily back inside. She chokes on a sound, the feeling lighting her up all over again as she struggles to accommodate him at full strength. She turns to look at the clock, registering the digital numbers turning to three am- they’d been at it for almost two hours.

“When you say you won’t leave until I’m satisfied… is that something you’ll just know? Or do I have to tell you?” He looks at her as he gently rolls his hips and her breath hitches as his tip brushes against her cervix.

“The tattoo on your neck will break,” He explains through his teeth, hands running over her body to gently squeeze her breasts and she moans softly as he rolls into her again.

“Is it still there?” She mumbles, wishing she could see into the mirror, but it’s behind him. He nods, dropping to his elbows to mouth at it, presumably. She floods his ears with delicate sighs, fingers splaying over his ribs as she traces his sides, eyes fluttering shut at the beautiful way his mouth moves-

“Ahh!” She yelps when he yanks her up off the mattress and pulls her into his arms, carried in the air. Her legs wind around him on instinct, clinging to his shoulders to not fall as he carries her into the living room. As she glances around the space, for some strange reason she feels off- almost as if a spell has been broken. Here he is, in another room of her apartment, and the strangeness she feels is entirely ridiculous. But he’s real, he’s real and standing in front of her tiny kitchen bar, eyes boring into her own, mischievous smile painted over his face. She traces his lips with her forefinger, smirk reflecting his, and he’s draping her over the counter to have her again.

She loses count of how many times he does- in the kitchen, over the couch, against the door. He shows no signs of tiring, cock hard and always pumping her full. She can’t remember a moment where she isn’t tumbling over the edge, thoughts useless, head empty as his red eyes sparkle in the dark, intent on burrowing into her chest.

There’s a brief period where she’s under the stream from the shower, unsure how she got there and still cradled in his arms. Her mind is weak like trailing threads, too distracted by the almost numbing tingles spreading through her body as she smiles at him. He’s still fully sheathed inside her- she’s almost certain he hasn't pulled out since they left the bedroom- and his impossibly strong arms rest below the swell of her ass as he presses her against the shower wall and kisses her, water mixing on their tongues.

“Is the mark still there?” She whispers, vaguely curious as the hot water flushes her body a light pink. He pulls away, eyes hazy and clouded over with pleasure, before lifting her hips and pulling her back down onto his cock.

“Still… there…” He huffs, brows drawn down in concentration. “I may not be able to keep up, soon.” She giggles, holding tight as he finishes their shower and brings her back to bed. Why he’d even bothered trying to clean them up, she isn’t sure.

On her hands and knees she takes him, and when her arms begin to tire she lies on her stomach, cheek against the mattress while his hands hold her hips up and he groans and fills her again. She shivers as his feverish hands stroke over her thighs, down her back, and to her scalp, caressing her hair softly. Her eyes flutter shut as he rocks them back and forth, the tenderness of his actions making her stutter out a long, breathless sigh.

Hazily she registers him lying her on her side, still joined, strong grip on the back of her knee as he lightly draws another orgasm out of her, fingers deftly working at her clit until she comes with a broken sob and milks him for what she considers the rest of what he’s got. As he pants into her ear the horizon turns a faint purple beyond her window and she collapses against his chest, pressing kisses to the underside of his jaw.

While they catch their breath, she feels her skin chill and an almost imperceptible pressure vanish from around her neck. Her fingers come up to touch her throat, groaning at the exhaustion weighing her limbs down and the sudden ache spreading over every muscle. He strokes her stomach, peering down at her, and she can see that the band is gone through her reflection in his eyes, her arms and legs finally clear of it.

“Oh no, it’s over?” She mumbles listlessly, pressing the heels of her palms against her eyelids as she starts to come back to herself. A light chuckle from beside her draws her out of the odd feelings of disappointment and longing as she gazes up at him, early morning sun passing through his hair to turn it bright and golden. He looks more like an angel than any devil she’s ever pictured.

“You’re satisfied,” He smiles, faint and soft. It makes her heart twist uncomfortably as he reaches down and finally slips out of her. A flush burns her cheeks at the slickness that drips down and pools between her legs over the sheets.

“Hmm,” She crosses her arms over her chest, pouting to the ceiling and leveling a hateful glare over the vent that she’d previously latched on to when she needed to ground herself. “Doesn’t feel like it.” He covers her vision, looking pleased with himself, and she feels a pang of sadness knowing he’ll have to leave.

“My contract’s fulfilled, Ofelia.” She nods, patting his arm, and when he moves from behind her to stand in her bedroom, gloriously naked and back to her, she admires him like he’s a distant statue up high on a pedestal. Out of reach.

“Umm… do I say ‘It’s been fun!’ or ‘Thank you!’?” She asks, wincing as he turns to look at her over his shoulder. His amused smile makes her feel less awkward, and she jolts in surprise when he stoops down to press a kiss to her lips.

“It’s been fun, thank you,” He grins, all sharp teeth and cocky glint in his eyes. She stares, then smiles softly as he rises to his full height, and those elusive wings that had vanished before stretch out behind him to cover the length of her room. The next time she blinks, he’s gone, and she looks around the room in alarm before stilling.

It’s silent as death.

She lies back, staring back up at that vent, every part of her aching and sore, far too stiff to think about moving let alone changing her sheets. She closes her eyes, fierce loneliness prodding at her chest.

***

“Earth plane’s portal is ringing again,” The droning voice of Raphael calls out over the tops of the rows of desks, his tone growing more tired by the hour. No one answers, scrolls and papers flying about as the demons sitting behind their quills carry on cataloging and documenting contracts and summons.

“Did you not hear me?” Raphael sounds more on edge and Astarion flicks his tail in amusement, glancing across the desk at his chattiest coworker.

“Think Haarlep’s still booked?” Karlach grins, jotting something on her scroll before she flicks it behind her right shoulder and it hits a lowly imp in the head.

“Must be. Wonder if he’ll call me again,” Astarion sighs, idly flicking the quill pen in his hand around his fingers. He remembers his outing and smirks. He wouldn’t mind if it were her again. If only he could be so lucky.

“Astarion!”

“There it is- good luck, soldier,” Karlach whispers before grabbing her beverage to dart for the breakroom.

“Yes, sir?” Astarion sagely dips his head in a formal bow as he watches Raphael massage his temples.

“Please cover for Haarlep again,”

“Of course, sir.” Filling in for an incubus isn’t the job he’d thought he’d be doing while slaving away for an archdevil, but its excellent overtime and exceptional pay convince him to fill out the request sheet every once in a while. When he steps through the portal he’s met with familiar darkened windows and the scent of vanilla, votives burning on every shelf and surface.

“Hope you weren’t busy?” He turns to see her standing in the middle of her little summoning circle, far too overdressed for his tastes, and smile bright and shining in the dim room.

“Ofelia,” He smirks, catching the spellbook when she tosses it at him.

“It’s already bookmarked, at least…” She walks closer, brown eyes flashing playfully as her long dark hair falls over her shoulder. “That’s if I read the fine print correctly.” He glances at the page, hellish heart flaring with warmth at the infernal word for binding. He grins.

“Cheeky pup,”

[everlastingdreams]

The Weeping Monk x Fem!Reader : Forged Of Fire Chapter 8

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Story Summary: Raised under the tiranny of your own family, and forced to steal to earn your keep, you struggle to survive. Born from a Fey mother, and a Manblood father who wanted only sons, you are forced to hide your Fey side. When you are ordered to steal from Father Carden by your half-brother, Cassian, your life spirals out of control and you find yourself at the mercy of the Weeping Monk. The life you knew changes drastically when Cassian betrays you in the cruelest of ways. A trade is made, a promise is broken, and a debt must be paid.

Chapter Title: Little Ember

Notes: /

Warnings: Angst. Hurt. Trauma bonding. Intrafamily violence. Depression. Self-harm. Suicidal thoughts. Violence. Torture. Gore. Pining. Trauma. Self-Flagellation. Manipulation. Strong Language. Blood. Misogyny. PTSD. Spicy and smut parts. Slight redemption arc. Lima/Stockholm syndrom-ish. Childhood trauma.

Other warnings: Jealousy. Forbidden Love. Romance. Slow-burn Found Familly-ish. Comfort. Fluff. !SMUT and SPICE!

Word count of this fic: +250K

Chapter:  8/47

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

The rage in the whispers haunting his ears only seemed to fuel his own. They kept repeating the same thing, over and over again, so many times that it was maddening.

    ~“Protect the girl… save her… save her…”~

    They were so terribly insistent. And so very disappointed in him for failing the task that they had put on him the night you had tried to take your own life with the dagger. They had not stopped ever since.

    ~“Protect the girl… protect the girl… protect the girl…”~

    These spirits he tried to forsake had spoken the words so gently, but they grew more and more insistent every day. And now he knew why. It had been a warning, one he failed to understand until now. The rider who had attacked him was an admirable fighter, but too impatient. It was how he ended up overpowering him.

“Where is he taking her?” The Monk asked the rider, the tip of his sword hovered over the man’s stomach.

The rider spat up some blood, failing to get it onto the Monk. “Go to hell!”

He lowered the sword, slowly moving it down and piercing the man’s clothes. “I can prolong your suffering for hours. Answer my question.”

Some confidence left the man’s eyes, but he still didn’t speak.

“Is he taking her to Ravenwick?” The sword had begun to draw blood, he could see the man wince.

“I don’t know!” The man was trying not to scream.

A lie…

The steel sank an inch into the man’s stomach who screamed out in pain. The man was not one who was easy to interrogate, it took a while before the truth finally came out. The Monk had to return to the paladin camp alone, the silent fury was oozing off of him, he could tell by how his Brothers avoided stepping into his path.

He had to wake Father for this. This was done by the son of a Lord, Father needed to know of this betrayal and give permission for punishment to be executed.

Father Carden was furious, first at him for taking you away from the camp without notifying anyone, then the priest became enraged over the sellsword’s broken word.

“Find the girl!” Father barked at his Monk.

He kept his eyes on the ground. “Yes. Father.”

  ~~~♡~~~♡~~~◇~~~♡~~~♡~~~

    The thumping headache was what helped pull you back to reality and what a disappointment it was. Your cheek was touching the cold tile floor, their pattern was much too familiar. Your nausea was quickly forgotten.

“She’s awake.” Cassian’s voice rang from somewhere to your left.

Boots stopped in front of your nose, and you slowly got up to a sitting position. “Father?…”

Aldith studied your slow responses, “Cassian, next time, do not hit her so hard. She will be worth less coin if we damage her too much.”

Your stomach turned again, they diminished you to nothing more than wares to sell. You tried to get to your feet, and when that failed you tried to crawl your way out of there. With bound wrists it proved near impossible.

Ricard stepped on your lower leg, trapping you there. “Don’t bother trying.”

Cassian shooed Ricard away, then grabbed you by the scarf around your neck and used it to turn you on the ground to face Aldith. “Don’t turn your back on father!”

You grabbed at the scarf, trying to prevent it from strangling your neck.

Aldith stood before you and for the first time he looked almost glad to see you. “For years I believed you were spared from your mother’s Feyblood. You hid this from me.”

“You would have killed me for being half-Fey!” you snapped at him, the scarf tightened around your neck in response.

Aldith’s eyes turned to stone. “Having a daughter was worse enough. Your mother told me there was no Feyblood in you, she lied to me. I understand now why she tried to run that night, you had not seen a full moon yet.”

You processed what he was saying. “You told me she never left the bed after I was born…”

Until now, he had always told you that she died in her bed after giving birth to you, had it all been a lie?

He scoffed. “She was trying to leave this manor with you in her arms. I couldn’t let that happen, the people of this village cannot see my wife fleeing from my home.”

The horrible truth settled in. “You killed her…”

Because she feared for your life, and her own. If he could be so violent to his own daughter, he must not have been gentle with her either.

Aldith saw no wrongdoing in his actions. “You should be grateful I stopped her from running off with you, she would have raised you in the woods. Now you’ve grown up in a manor.”

You couldn’t believe how he expected you to be grateful for all you were forced to live through, “If you were so against Fey-kind, why did you marry one?!”

“I thought I could heal her from this curse.” he answered.

Your anger spilled out, “You damned her by marrying her.”

He had moved and slapped you across the face so quickly, Cassian’s hold on you faltered as you fell to the cold tiles again.

Aldith gave him the order, “Lock her in her room. I do not want to see her again until we have a buyer for her, she will earn me back everything she has cost me.”

Everything you had cost him… as if you had chosen to be born and raised by someone as cruel as him.

“Of course, father.” Cassian said, more than a little pleased that Aldith was happy that he had managed to steal you back from Father Carden.

“Buyer?!” You tried to elbow Ricard in the ribs when he came to help Cassian.

Aldith turned to you again. “You are a rare Fey, I will have my coin for you.”

With a nod, your father commanded them to take you away. Cassian and Ricard dragged you by the arms to your room.

“I didn’t think you’d still be alive.” Cassian shoved you into the room. “Father was angry when he heard how I just gave you up to Father Carden. You’re finally worth something, and you know father never let’s a good opportunity to earn coin slip away.”

You spat to the floor in front of his feet. “And here you are, kissing father’s feet! Are you so desperate to inherit this village from him?!”

Cassian shot forward and put his hand around your throat, “How did you become so mouthy, eh?! You pathetic little girl.”

He was told not to hit you so hard again by Aldith… the words of the Monk rushed through your head when Cassian’s grip on your throat tightened.

    ~“He is a coward.”~

The Monk had said about Cassian…

~“You are a fighter.”~

He had told you…

    You jerked your knee up, hitting him hard in the groin and Cassian stumbled back and hit the wall. He was groaning in pain and refused the help his friend tried to offer. It took him a moment to regain his footing, but you had clearly hit him quite hard. Cassian launched forward, but Ricard stopped him from attacking you.

“No, Cassian. She’ll be worth less coin, remember?” Ricard said upon seeing the murderous glare from Cassian.

Cassian pointed at you rudely, “You’d better pray that you are sold soon!”

He stormed out of the room, Ricard followed and shut the door, locking you inside.

    ~~~♡~~~♡~~~◇~~~♡~~~♡~~~

  Hours had past at the manor, it was late midday when Aldith had chosen the buyer who was willing to pay the most for one of the Ash Folk. Another rich Lord a few cities away had made a generous offer.

“Take her there tonight, Cassian. This coin will serve us well.” Aldith told his son in the great chamber, whilst pointing at the area on the map.

“I’ll take the carriage for this. But I will need more men, Ricard and I will not be enough if we run into paladins or Uther’s soldiers.” Cassian planned ahead.

Aldith waved that concern away. “Take some of my mercenaries, I will see to it that they will receive their payment.”

“Thank you, father.” Cassian said.

The doors of the great chamber flew open, Ricard hurried inside.

“What is it?”Aldith asked, hating to be disturbed like this.

Ricard looked like he had seen a ghost, “It’s the Weeping Monk, sir. He’s here.”

Aldith glared at Cassian. “Did I not tell you to kill him?”

“He was going to kill us and-” Cassian tried to explain it.

“Cassian! I will not hear your pathetic excuses!” Aldith barked at his son.

Cassian looked down at the ground. “I’m sorry, father.”

“What does he want?” Aldith looked at Ricard.

He barely dared to answer, “He wants to speak to you, sir.”

Aldith was still glaring at his son. “Send him in. Is he alone?”

“Yes, sir. He is alone.” Ricard said.

Aldith made a gesture with his hand, telling Ricard to let the Monk into the manor. The Monk walked into the great chamber, immediately taking into account who was present, and who was missing… Cassian tried to be subtle whilst moving a little more to the further corner of the room.

Aldith did not move one step and looked at the Monk disinterested. “You came here to speak to me. Why?”

The Monk’s tone was harsh and cold. “I know your son took your daughter here, his friend confessed to it whilst I was sinking my sword into his stomach.”

“And?” Aldith asked arrogantly, he was not even shocked by the information.

Irritation crept into the Monk. “I am here to retrieve her by Father Carden’s order. Without bloodshed.”

“Retrieve her?” Aldith repeated him. “My daughter is not going with you, unless Father Carden pays a generous amount of coin for her.”

The Monk stepped forward, some of the sellswords behind him drew their swords in warning but he paid them no mind. “Your son lives because he traded her life for his. We have not forgotten this agreement.”

With a gesture of his hand, Aldith beckoned the sellswords to come closer. “What my son has promised is of no concern to me. My children are mine, I decide what happens to them.”

The Monk grew irritated quickly. “Your daughter was-”

Aldith interrupted him. “My daughter is a rare Fey, as you may know.” A knowing look was send to the Monk. “I decide what happens to her.”

“It would be wise to decide to give her back to us.” The Monk said coolly.

Aldith scoffed, insulted by the arrogance he was shown. “Tell Father Carden to bring me a good offer then. One consisting of gold and wealth. Until then, get out of my village.”

The Monk’s eyes were cold as ice. “Father Carden had hoped that a Lord would have more honour to fulfill and hold an agreement.”

“Tell Father Carden to come to me if he wishes to trade. Not to my children.” Aldith said, then turned to the mercenaries. “Make sure he leaves my village.”

The mercenaries came closer, silently communicating that the Monk had overstayed his welcome. The Monk stormed out of the manor, a couple of cautious mercenaries followed in his wake.

    ~~~♡~~~♡~~~◇~~~♡~~~♡~~~

  You had drank some of the medicine in the vial that the Sisters had given to you in the abbey. It helped dull some of the pain in your head and the soreness of the bruises after having fallen to the ground when Cassian and his friends had ambushed the Monk. You tried to get the ropes loose from your wrists, to no avail. And even if you could free yourself of them, there was not a window in your room that you could use to escape. They had always been careful to keep you under control especially during the night. The only light you had came from a couple of lanterns, one on the table beside your bed and another on the ground near the door. Those haunting whispers made their presence known again, if they only had something useful for you, some advice to help you escape this hell.

You covered your ears, hoping to silence them. “Please… enough… I can’t do this…”

Something moving in the corner of your eyes pulled your attention, you stared in disbelief at the sight of the flame getting a faint green hue in the lantern beside your bed. The whispers grew stronger as you got closer to the lantern, the flame was leaning to the right, which was odd because there was no wind or breeze in the room. You picked the lantern up and the flame moved slightly, keeping itself pointing in the way it had been before you picked it up. Very odd… You moved to the right and saw how the green grew more vibrant, with some more steps to the right of the room the color got more intense. It was then that you realized that it meant something, the flame, the whispers… they were trying to show something. You moved the lantern, watching it closely, moving it lower and seeing the flame grow stronger. And then you saw what they wanted you to notice, a hole in one of the floorboards, just big enough to put your finger through. You put the lantern down beside it and vaguely remembered noticing it before but it hadn’t looked important or interesting. It could have just been made by a mouse…

The green flame burned bright, painting the room in it’s mystical glow. This wasn’t your doing, these whispers were real entities after all. You weren’t insane, they were real. You stuck your finger in the hole and tried to see if the floorboard would budge, it took a couple of tries before you started to feel it loosen and move, then some more before it was loose enough to lift it up. In the shadows it looked like nothing was under there until you reached in and felt into the small space. Under a thick layer of dust you felt something rectangular and pulled it out. The flame in the lantern returned to it’s normal state. After dusting it off for bit on your trousers, you saw that it was a small dark-brown leather journal. You opened it up and your hands began to shake when they fell on what was written inside of it. This had belonged to your mother… there was no doubt about it. And there in the corner of the first page she had written her name ‘Iridessa’. This journal was hidden into the floor to avoid being found by Aldith. It held her daily thoughts, written from the moment that she knew she was with child.

      ~“I thought he loved me. I thought he would love our child, our daughter. He promised he would not hurt me again, but he did, my only crime was bearing him a daughter. I gave him a child, her existence the only sunlight and hope in my own. She is so good, she sleeps so soundly in my arms when I cannot sleep myself. Aldith believes that she was ‘spared’ of my heritage, but I know this to be untrue. I have seen her marks, they remind me of my mother’s. Aldith has never seen my markings and he never will, not if I can prevent it. It would only make him furious to see what I hid to avoid his fury further. I cannot let him see her marks, he will cast her out if he is merciful, if not he will take the sun out of my existence before he takes my own. My little ember cannot grow into a flame here, I cannot let her fire be dimmed as mine has been. As she sleeps so vast and sound, I will take her away from here and if the Hidden has pity on me, they will aid me.”~

      You couldn’t stop shaking. ‘Little ember’… she was trying to protect you… he hurt her. Your father had never seen the marks of the Ash Folk, she had not wished for him to see them. It was fortunate for the Monk because Aldith would have known what he was and found a way to blackmail him and Father Carden years ago, it would be far less simple now that Father Carden had gained so much power over the lands. And now that your father had wealth to gain…

Aldith took a great risk to steal you from them, but he was not foolish enough to push them further. Now he could keep Father Carden from seeking vengeance, by threatening to expose the Monk’s secret. Father Carden would keep his weapon and Aldith had what he wanted. Your poor mother… who wrote of you so lovingly. A mother desperate to keep her child safe. Just when you wanted to read more you heard the door unlock, quickly you shoved the journal into the satchel and put the floorboard back. Ricard walked into your room, closing the door behind him. You became vigilant immediately.

“I’m only here to get you ready for traveling.” He was annoyed by your reaction.

He inspected the ropes on your wrists, that was all he did to get you ‘ready for traveling’.

He took a knife from the belt at his waist, holding it under your chin while taking hold of your arm. “Now be good, and I won’t cut your skin.”

“My father said not to damage his wares.” You arched a brow.

Ricard gave the warning, “He’d rather have damaged wares than no wares if you were to try and escape.”

You resisted the urge to give him the same response Cassian had gotten. He leaded you out of the room by the arm, and by the time you were out of the manor Cassian and some of Aldith’s mercenaries had joined you. Cassian was the one to put you in the carriage, he even got inside as well along with Ricard. The mercenaries were to follow by horse, one rode the carriage to it’s destination.

“Where are you taking me?” You tried to keep the disdain out of your voice.

“To the Lord of Morrowstead.” Cassian, didn’t even look your way as he said it.

You swallowed down the anger, “Cassian?”

He turned his head to face you.

Part of you just wanted to understand, to have a reason for this madness. “We grew up together. I’m your sister. Why are you doing this to me?”

He scoffed, rolling his eyes away from you again. “My father should never have bred with that Fey whore, but a pair of pretty eyes got the better of him. You shouldn’t even exist.”

It entered your ears and burned through your soul. Even Ricard looked your way for a moment, what he must have seen was a person being shattered once again. You didn’t say anything anymore, there was nothing emphatic left in Cassian. He had become exactly what Aldith wanted him to be, a cold and selfish monster. The feeling of being utterly alone was crushing your spirit. The carriage rocked as it rode over a cobbled road, the path as unsteady as your emotions were. It rode through the evening, bringing you to an uncertain future again. You held the satchel close to you, glad that it hadn’t been taking from you. ‘Little ember’… she didn’t want your fire to go out like hers had…

Shouting came from outside.

“What’s going on?” Ricard asked.

“Something happened to one of the men.” Cassian was trying to make sense of the shouting.

One of the mercenaries quickly rode up to the door of the carriage, speaking to the men inside through the open window. “We’re under attack! Go! We will try to hold them back!” The mercenary said the same to the one steering the carriage. “Go!”

The horses pulling the carriage increased in speed instantly as the rider spurred them on to flee the attack.

Ricard saw something happening through the window opening of the door. “They’ve killed two of them!”

“Paladins?” Cassian demanded to know.

“I can’t see anyone, only our men on their horses.” Ricard shook his head.

The carriage shook badly as it rode over the now dirt road, the atmosphere inside was tense. A wheel hit a rock on the road too hard, the carriage became imbalanced and the horse neighed loud. The carriage toppled over and came to a hard abrupt stop as it landed on it’s side.

Taglist:

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[blurbfics]

There'd Better Be a Mirrorball | Azriel x OFC [part thirteen]

Summary: Azriel attends dinner. The skies provide a bit of comfort, if perhaps not clarity.

Word Count: 4.2k

Warnings: angst, yearning, betrayal, lying, slight deceit, Elain attempting to court Azriel, miscommunication, intentional miscommunication, conflicting emotions, Eowyn in a bad place and Azriel doesn't know what to do

a/n: its been a long minute and I sincerely apologize for that! i got busy around halloween and then with the election results I was just... too upset and disappointed to do anything. but fear not, i haven't completely lost my mojo! sorry for the delay and the slight heartbreak, i promise its gonna get better, it just needs to get a little worse (oops!), also a special shoutout to those that reached out to me to make sure I'm still alive and doing well, thank you guys so much it really means a lot to me <3

Minors, do not interact.

part twelve

masterlist

"She's been loop-the-looping around my mind

Her motorcycle boots give me this kind of

Acrobatic blood, concertina

Cheating heartbeat, rapid fire"

- Arctic Monkeys, She's Thunderstorms

He notes, if perhaps a bit absentmindedly— as he tries his very best to focus on anything but the growing nervousness in the pit of his stomach— that he’s never quite looked at himself in a mirror for this long.

His clothes weren’t too much to cry about, a simple buttoned up black shirt tailor made to accommodate not only his size but his wings as well, and his black pants were casual if perhaps a little more formal than his usual clothes. He couldn’t well go to dinner with Eowyn in his leathers.

He huffed as he adjusted the simple silver cufflinks on his sleeve, reminding himself once again that it was a casual dinner with friends in a group setting, it wasn’t a date, but the thought of sitting with her, sharing a meal with her— he wouldn’t allow himself to linger on the thought of fixing her plate for her unless he wanted his pants to tighten uncomfortably for the rest of the evening (considering he had no time to take care of the issue before dinner)— and what’s more, to possibly have the opportunity to see what she hides behind her veil made the tingles of nervousness to bite at him once again.

Fixing his hair, although he only pushed it from one side to the other and then pushed it back in frustration when it didn’t fall the way he wanted it, he pulled himself away from his reflection, figuring there was nothing more he could do and finally slipped out into the hall towards the dining area.

Before he could hear the people in the room, his shadows rushed back to him, reporting on Cassian, Nesta, and Gwyn’s attendance but not yet Eowyn’s. Figuring it was best if he came in before she did, lest she think he was late, he calmly strode in and nodded in greeting at his friends who cheered upon seeing him, already seeming a few glasses into the wine.

“Am I late?” He asked with a raised eyebrow, finding himself in a rather pleasant mood, if not to say excited.

“Just in time,” Cassian assured him good-naturedly but Azriel needed to only spare him a glance to notice there was something only slightly off about his brother. Unlike Nesta and Gwyn who seemed in rather bright spirits as they both went into the kitchen to bring more wine, Cassian didn’t seem to be drinking at all, his face a little more serene than usual.

“Surprised you agreed to this,” Cassian admitted to him when the girls were out of earshot.

“Why?” Azriel shook his head, as he took a seat, directly in front of his brother to leave them both room for their wings.

“I just.. didn’t think you were interested in her,” Cassian admitted, much to Azriel’s confusion. Hadn’t Cassian been the one pushing Eowyn and Azriel to train together, hadn’t he been the one to gossip to Rhys about his feelings, feelings he could barely even admit to himself, having been so hurt so often by his choices— and he was surprised?

But before Azriel could answer him, Gwyn and Nesta came back in, not yet tipsy but seeming just a little lighter than usual. Their light idle chatter filled the space as they set the items down, followed by the feast the house thoughtfully spawned out for them.

Nesta immediately took her seat at the head of the table to Cassian’s right, leaving her between Cassian and himself, while Gwyn sat on the one directly next to Azriel. He tried to not be bothered by it and the fact that it would leave Eowyn in the seat diagonal to him.

Gwyn grinned widely, if perhaps a bit abashedly at him as she placed the bottle down on the table.

With that action came the realization that the table only had four sets of silverware.

“Here, try this,” he looked up to find a blushing Gwyn gently stacking a small cracker with a creamy spread and thin cold cut of meat for him to try. He felt himself go pale at the forward act.

Food sharing was sacred among fae. No female shared food, especially directly feeding anyone that wasn’t already part of their families. This was solely an act of courtship, something he truly didn’t want to entertain, despite the way he’d seen Gwyn’s eyes following him wherever he went.

Azriel felt at a loss, not knowing how to proceed. What if in an attempt to spare Gwyn’s feelings, he accepted the food and gave her the wrong idea? What if Eowyn walked in and thought the same thing? But what if he disrespected Gwyn’s kind act by rejecting her and ruining the entire dinner?

Since when did he overthink things so much?

“I— thank you,” he tried to smile graciously, but both the words and his facial expression gave away his awkwardness.

His shadows flurried around him in offense at her forwardness.

He took the offered food from her, careful not to touch her as he did and took a small bite.

She watched him with wide expectant eyes. “What do you think?”

“It’s… good,” he cleared his throat to fill the silence.

“Thank you,” she blushed harder, either from his response or out of embarrassment, he wasn���t sure.

“You ladies cook all of this yourselves?” Cassian saved him, the mood lifting with his playful incredulity as he raised a suspicious eyebrow at his mate.

“We had help,” Nesta rolled her eyes.

“We?” He continued to tease, causing Gwyn to laugh lightly, eyes sparkling in glee despite the lingering awkwardness from her interaction with Azriel.

“Nesta made a beautiful layout,” Gwyn defended, waving a hand over the board containing a variety of cheeses, cold meats, and spreads. “Wynnie helped us with a few side dishes and I roasted the chicken and vegetables,” she grinned proudly.

Azriel felt his heart leap at the sound of her name. It offered him the perfect segue to ask about her.

“When is she coming? Is she alright?”

They all turned to look at him and several things happened all at once.

Azriel wondered for a brief second how anyone thought he could make a living out of noticing those kinds of things. He was supposed to be a Spymaster, for Cauldron’s sake! He was supposed to be aware of everything in every room all at once, and yet he hadn’t noticed— or perhaps, he’d  willingly chosen to ignore— that which was so glaringly obvious the second he stepped into the dining room: Eowyn wasn’t here.

Still, all he could do was gather all at once every intake of breath, the barely noticeable gasp leaving Nesta’s lips, the twitch to Gwyn’s jaw and the way her gaze dropped— every minuscule movement everyone in the room made at any given point to give away something they were hiding. Seeking what they knew.

All at once he noticed the way Cassian’s head snapped up to look at his mate, his eyebrows furrowed in a way that spoke of both accusation and betrayal. Gwyn, who was filling a plate either for him or herself froze in place and focused on the plate for a second before looking up at him with something akin to betrayal in her gaze, while Nesta merely stopped chewing on her own bite of cheese and cracker for a second before continuing her slow mastication, gray eyes set firmly on the food she was piling on her plate.

“Eowyn isn’t joining us tonight,” she said simply, all wine playfulness gone.

“Why not?” he couldn’t help but snarl under his breath and this felt much too familiar, much like when he’d snapped at Gwyn the night before as she told him Eowyn’s decision to stop training with him.

“Well, she… said she didn’t want to intrude,” this time Gwyn spoke up, seeming recovered enough to speak although her tone was more questioning than telling. He turned to her and noticed the pink tinge to her cheeks and the glow in her eye was gone, replaced by a paleness to her skin and a distant countenance. “She helped with dinner, but said she didn’t want to be a fifth wheel on our double date.”

He remained silent at that, head blank despite his boiling blood.

“I see,” he spoke stiltedly after a minute of silence.

The tension in the room could be cut with even the dullest of blades and yet there was nothing anyone could do to bring back the lightness. Gwyn, seeming recovered enough, straightened her back and jutted out her chin.  “You came because you thought she would be here?” She confirmed, although they all knew at that point it wasn’t necessary.

Azriel had made it clear to all at this point without needing to say a single word that he cared about Eowyn. Everyone knew. It wasn’t a secret he was trying to keep, he cared about her, that much they all knew. Just how much he cared, he was only starting to figure out himself.

“Yes,” he replied simply yet honestly, wanting nothing more than to get up and leave the room and possibly hunt Eowyn down and demand an explanation.

He thought back to the conversation they’d had that day, attempting to recall her wording.

She’d told him the girls were making dinner and asked if he wanted to join. He wanted to both kick himself for not confirming her presence and scold her for not correcting him when he said he’d see her at dinner. Wanted to rip his own heart out to justify the unrelenting pressure on his chest.

“You love her,” again, she stated rather than asked. 

Azriel remained silent however, and that was all anyone needed to know.

—

He considered going straight to the library and storming into her office to demand an apology, but most importantly, an explanation for her clear deception. 

After the disastrous dinner he’d been blindsided into joining (a rather brief encounter) he found himself taking to the skies instead, needing to clear his head.

He considered everything that had happened in the last few days, or rather, the last few months of his life.

He flew for hours, relishing in the exertion on his back, the soreness of his cold wings, but all he could think about, every possible thought he had, always led back to her and how she’d crept her way into his life

He’d found her…interesting at first, that he couldn’t deny. 

He’d always noticed a quiet spark under those captivating black eyes, a certain knowing look that was both thrilling and challenging in a way few dared to look at him with. She was a breath of fresh air and she was a mystery to him, and the more time they spent together and the more he uncovered the layers that made her her, the more he grew immeasurable fond of her.

He’d sworn, after his brief disappointing fling with Elain, that he would not allow himself to fall in yet another pit of unrequited love.

He’d sworn off females for the sake of his growing desperation for belonging, for a mate, and he’d given up on seeking it and trying to force it to happen with females that were either uninterested in him entirely but were too kind to tell him straight off, or were barely interested in something short while and empty.

That had not been the same with Eowyn. Mostly because his interest in her wasn’t based off of his attraction to her (at least at first) but derived from a curiosity that might’ve remained friendly if not slightly distant had they not spent almost every day together, training in the morning and as of more recently, spending a few hours together in the few and far between occasions he wasn’t needed elsewhere. 

He had subconsciously sought her out every instance he could, and while the itch to see her hadn’t come to him all at once, it was undeniable and ever present now.

While he was self-aware enough to admit that his attraction to her hadn’t spawned in a day, but through the small intimacies shared, the trust and friendship they’d built, as there wasn’t anything licentious rooted in their relationship. He hadn’t salivated after her like some kind of beast, hadn’t even considered crossing any lines with her that went beyond their respective roles as trainer and trainee, for despite the fact that priestesses in Prythian weren’t generally considered pious and virginal maidens, these priestesses were special.

This group of females resided there to stay away from males lusting after them.

Eowyn was never outwardly flirtatious and outspoken, but she was also not meek and docile. 

She was like an impending storm, she was the anticipation between a bolt of lighting and its following thunder. And like a raging rainstorm that had begun in the furthest distance, raging closer with a speed that bade it impossible to escape yet took it’s righteous time to flank him entirely, the tempest was upon him now and despite his careful precautions, he was now caught amidst its chaos and found he never wanted to leave after witnessing its splendor.

He cared not about mates, not anymore. 

He didn’t even care if she didn’t want him the way he wanted her, he simply found he couldn’t be without her. It was beyond the fact that no one truly understood him like she did, no, it wasn’t about him. It was about the privilege of knowing someone like her. 

He’d had a taste of divinity every time he was near her, and he didn’t know how he would go on if he could no longer be by her side, in whatever way she wanted him.

He couldn’t be selfish, not when it came to her. He didn’t know what had been done to her, didn’t know if she was interested in males, interested in him, but he would never expect anything of her. Not when it came to that.

In his roiling thoughts, he wondered if he’d come off too intensely in their last few meetings. He wondered if he’d scared her off by hovering over as close as he could to hear about her well-being. He wondered if… wondered if his pathetic attempt to kiss her had made her think he was an animal of a male who sought nothing more than sex.

He wondered if she cared about him even half as much as he cared about her.

With his jumbled hurt and angry thoughts that merely circled and intertwined in his mind, he found no answers to his growing list of questions and doubts. He was, however, exhausted after flying for five hours straight, and found he couldn’t feel properly surprised when the shadows he’d left behind to guard the library entrance rushed to tell him Eowyn was waiting in the greenhouse.

She sat with her legs crossed on top of a sturdy windowsill at the furthest wall, looking outside with her back to the entrance.

He bit his tongue to hold back from scolding her for it, for her lack of precaution and safety.

“You’re angry,” she stated, rather than asked. 

Not wanting to risk snapping at her and driving her further away, he remained silent.

She sighed at his lack of response and twisted around to face him, although it accomplished nothing as he noted that despite her loose hair, her face was still covered entirely so that he couldn’t even see her eyes.

“I would be too,” she continued.

“Would you,” he snarled through his teeth.

“Yes,” she replied immediately, latching onto his response, “I would. Because what I did was idiotic and insensitive—“ 

“Don’t do that,” he cut her off, “don’t try to empathize with me by putting yourself down.”

She stilled and her back straightened, suddenly looking away and he noticed for the first time that she sat next to Thelxie, and that the once bright and proud flora now dropped sadly at her side, wilting.

She turned to him fully then, legs hanging over the side, back straight and if he could see her eyes, he knew he would see them looking straight at him.

She only gave him a brief nod before speaking. “Ask your questions then.”

Again, he was faced with the closed off and cold Eowyn. He narrowed his eyes at her in disbelief, a pang of guilt and self-deprecation eating at him as he watched her put her true mask on and push him away. For a second, she’d acted like herself, if perhaps layering it on rather thick to get on his good side, but could he not even express justified anger at her clear betrayal without her slinking back into a shell of who she was?

The anger that had been directed at her suddenly turned inward and he chastised himself for it, for he knew better than to allow a blinding and useless emotion such as anger get in the way. He breathed deeply and tried to let the rise of emotions ease into a steady stream.

“Why did you lie to me?”

“I didn’t,” she replied, her voice cool and tempered and he realized that in the few seconds it had taken him to calm himself down, she had used that time to do the same and strengthen the walls she erected around herself. Dammit. “Everything I told you about my father— about myself, is true-“

“Not that,” the wave of anger tacked him yet he relented against it, for he’d had much time to think and he now came to realize that although she’d clearly made rather important omissions to her story, she had been truthful in everything she’d shared. Intimacy like that could not be fabricated. “You think you’re so clever, inviting me to dinner with Nesta and Gwyn and not correcting me when I said I’d see you there?”

She remained silent for a beat and he knew, without seeing her face, that she was gaping at him. “I- technically, that’s not a lie—“

“Eowyn,” he snapped.

She sighed, “I’ve no excuse for that,” she spoke quickly and sharply, “that was just me being a coward and not wanting to explain everything after training, and, well-“ she turned her head to look at her plant, gathered herself and spoke with the same speed, if perhaps a bit stiltedly, “Gwyn likes you. That’s all I would hear, every time I came back to myself from those horrible visions. She was by my side and she would tell me you were waiting outside the library walls, always so attentive and caring, and always so kind to her and anyone that would share a bit of news of your dear friend, and she asked me if I— if it would bother me if she asked you to dinner, and why would it? She’s the kindest fae I’ve ever met, she’s brilliant, she’s funny and sweet and beautiful and you deserve nothing less—“

“Eowyn—”

“-and I know I should’ve asked you first,” she nodded quickly, hands fidgeting in her lap, “I know I should’ve, but I was so weary… so tired, and I didn’t want to talk about what the herbalist said, and I just wanted you to give you both… an opportunity.”

If he thought his emotions were jumbled before, they were nothing but a mere puddle in the raging ocean within him now. “Eowyn, that wasn’t your decision to make,” he stated simply, unable to hold his words back, even as she nodded again and hung her head, “do you think I don’t know how she looks at me? You think my shadows don’t keep me aware of her reactions— of anyone’s reactions to me? I’ve been the target of people’s lust just as often as I’ve been the object of their hatred, their fear and disgust. I don’t mean to sound arrogant,” he frowned, feeling uncomfortable speaking in such a haughty way, “but if I wanted Gwyn, I would be with her. She is not the one I want.”

Eowyn gripped the windowsill tightly, her back ramrod straight. “You’re right,” she spoke after a moment of silence, “I’m sorry for deceiving you and for just— going about this all wrong. I should’ve asked you. She should’ve asked you without me being in the middle, but she thought she could trust me and I went and fucked it all up.”

“She should have asked me herself,” he found himself agreeing, listening to her breath as it halted for a beat longer, her only tell in an otherwise unmoved reaction. “That way, I would’ve been clear that I have no interest in her.”

“Right,” she murmured, sufficiently agreeably if perhaps dismissively, “are we not going to talk about the pegasus in the room?”

And while he wanted to push and prod at her to understand why she was actively trying to push him onto her friend after their own day together in the obsidian cave, he knew the subject could not be ignored for much longer. 

“Are you a witch?”

She sighed. “It’s complicated,” she pushed herself off her seat and paced in front of him, one hand resting on her hip while they other pinched the bridge of her nose, “everything I told you about myself is true, I haven’t lied about that, but—“

“Are you a witch?” He repeated.

“Yes,” she snapped, and stopped pacing for a second before she continued, “or I was. I don’t have access to my power anymore.”

His eyebrows furrowed at that, “why not?” And while he was at it, “and why didn’t you tell me?”

“Out of safety,” she turned to him and he couldn’t see her face but he knew that if he could she would be looking at him with incredulity. “You’re telling me you wouldn’t have told your High Lord I’m a witch the second you knew? As a matter of fact, why haven’t I received a visit from the High Lord?” She crossed her arms and looked around as if Rhys would spawn out of thin air.

He frowned at her. “I haven’t told him, and I find it quite offensive you’d suggest otherwise.”

“Is it?” She tilted her head, “don’t you ‘live to serve’?”

His frown deepened, not liking her tone, “don’t use my own words against me.”

“Oh that’s right,” she continued, “you needed to confirm with me first, right? Well go ahead and tell him what you want, it’s not like I’d be of any use to him anyway. I have no way to access my powers even if I wanted to.”

“Stop that,” he scolded, “stop trying to antagonize me.”

“I’m not,” she snapped, suddenly standing before him with her arms crossed over her chest, chin tilted up and he knew that her obsidian eyes were looking straight at him, “I’m simply stating the truth, and if I’m being entirely honest, I don’t blame you: having a witch at your disposal would’ve been helpful during the fight with Hybern but unfortunately for you, there was nothing I could’ve done to help you.”

“I haven’t told Rhys,” he repeated, needing her to understand that. “I wouldn’t.”

“But you thought about it,” it wasn’t a reproach, it was a statement of fact. She knew him well enough to know his duty always came first to him. He was a soldier, he was a warrior and not only was he loyal to his High Lord based on his unfaltering belief in him, but he also held an innate sense of pride in his Court that was as deep-rooted as it was repressed, having been an outcast to his own homeland. Eowyn knew him well enough to know he would have at least briefly considered going to Rhysand.

“It’s fine,” she repeated, almost to herself as if it were a mantra, “Not many… know about that. Only Clotho and now you, but I’m-” she sighed and shook her head, “I’m not who you think I am.”

“Why didn’t you tell me before?” He took a step forward but stopped when she took a step back.

“I just told you,” she snapped again, but it no longer sounded as firm and decisive as before. “No one knows. No one is supposed to know, and if you knew even half of what I used to be… of what they all expect me to be, you wouldn’t be having this pleasant little conversation with me.”

“Then tell me,” and although his tone was firm, it was out of desperation and need more than anger and frustration. “Nothing you can tell me will change what I know-”

“You-”

“—because I know you and don’t you dare say I don’t. I know you, Eowyn-”

“No, you-“

“I do,” he insisted, refusing to let her cut him off, “I may not know all the details of what you’ve done or what you’ve been through,” and when he stepped towards her that time she didn’t pull away, so he gently took one of her hands and held it between them, rubbing his thumb across her knuckles in a soothing caress, “but I know who you are.”

She remained silent and said nothing more for a long moment before pulling her hand away from his.

“I’m sorry… for what happened today,” she began and the way she collected herself and shifted slightly, looking over his shoulder and towards the door told him she had not and would not budge on the subject, “it was a mistake.”

taglist: @lilah-asteria , @a-courtof-azriel , @honk4emoboyz , @feyretopia , @mrsjna , @buttermilktea11 , @bravo-delta-eccho , @kylieinwonderland , @adventure-awaits13 ,

[starryknight-dragonarts]

My First and Favorite Bionicle Character, Tahu the Toa of Fire.

I fondly remember when I got my first Bionicle when I was 4. I was looking around the Toy aisles for a Knight, nothing specific I just really wanted to find a Knight of some kind and was starting to get disappointed, then my father suggested I check the Lego section and there I saw him...a Red Hot Robotic Knight-like Warrior with a Fire Sword Surfing on a wave of Lava! I was smitten with him instantly and since then Bionicle has stuck with me as a series that is dear to me and an inspiration for my current work.

In honor of where it all began, I decided to draw my own version of all of the original Toa Canister art for each of the 6 original Toa.

Tahu is the courageous and determined leader of the Toa Mata, as well as the fiercest and most feared warrior among them. Early on he was a stubborn prideful hothead, he lacked patience, and had a wild flaming temper often leaping into conflicts and clashing with the other Toa (Mainly Kopaka) however his unapologetic brash attitude were sometimes his best traits, He does not stop at any point to mope or feel bad about his mistakes or missteps, instead he immediately course corrects and keeps moving forwards to do better.

Tahu is Loyal, Selfless, and cares deeply about all of his comrades as well as the Matoran and Turaga he protects; He takes his duties as a Leader very seriously and his biggest fear is leading his friends into a situation they weren't ready for and getting everybody killed, so he would often rather try carry the brunt of the problems himself and handle everything before eventually admitting he needs his friends beside him and has faith in all of their abilities, not just his own, transitioning from being the Warrior to a True Leader.

When first confronting the Makuta as a team the Toa merged into more powerful Toa Kaita forms representing the spirits of Wisdom and Valor allowing them to defeat a seemingly insurmountable foe, but as they entered the Makuta's lair their forms were reverted into their original selves. Pohatu and Lewa started to despair that the Makuta would be an even more powerful foe than the ones they just fought and without the power brought by the Toa Kaita forms they had no hope to win. In this moment Tahu tells them "Where wisdom and valor fail, all that remains is faith. And it can overcome all."

Primary Mask: Kanohi Hau (Mask of Shielding) His mask allows him to project force fields to protect himself and those close by.

[the-dork-urge]

|| Stone and earth || Zevlor X Tav

Summary: In which a cold Tav helps Zevlor and realizes how lonely it must be hidden away in a damp alcove. Just a quick little fic. (can even be a prequel to this ) Wordcount: 1235

Tav meticulously traced the intricate paths on the map, her brow furrowed in concentration. Despite their focus, an unyielding chill seemed to seep deeper into her bones with each passing moment; Tav longed for even a fleeting warmth.

A sidelong glance at Zevlor revealed a subtle flicker of orange fire dancing in his dark eyes. Tav's heart fluttered, a whirlwind of emotions swirling within her—feelings unspoken. The comfort she felt in his presence and the quickened pulse at the sound of his voice left her questioning: were these emotions born solely from shared hardships, or did they hint at something more profound?

Unfazed by the cold, Zevlor maintained focus on the maps. Recollections of the tieflings' natural warmth prompted Tav to subtly shift closer, seeking solace in his comforting heat.

As Tav pointed to the Goblin Camp on the map, her hand rested on the table's edge, the other hovering near the camp's perimeter. "Your scouts reported a guard patrol stationed here?" she inquired, her voice steady as she studied the markings.

Zevlor leaned forward, his hand finding a place near Tav's. Her breath caught as she felt the warmth of his hand close to hers. Distracted momentarily, Zevlor gently held her hand, nudging her pointing finger to align with the correct location on the map.

"There," he said, still holding onto her hand. "And those are likely not the only ones," Zevlor continued, withdrawing his hands with a throat clearing, his gaze flickering away.

"Astarion's silver tongue might grant you entry past the first. Sneaking past them all seems improbable," he explained, his eyes returning to the map, his mind still reeling from their touch. Wishing for the courage to reach out again, to express how much her presence meant to him.

"Then perhaps we'll have to confront them head-on instead," Tav contemplated, meeting Zevlor's gaze with a faint blush on her skin.

Zevlor's worry was evident as he looked down at Tav. He wanted to object, to caution against such a risky approach. Tav and the others were his only hope, and the thought of losing her, not having her counsel and kindness during evenings like this, was unbearable.

With a heavy heart, he spoke. "Are you up for that? I have nothing to offer you in this fight." Admitting his shame, he contemplated alternatives, his gaze falling upon the maps. "Sending out another scouting party might be wise," he suggested, his voice carrying the burden of recent losses. "But after the massacre at the gate, I doubt anyone is willing to risk it. I would go myself if I could, but I can't leave them defenseless, not while we are still in this snakepit." Bitterness coated his words, disappointment etched across his face.

Tav placed a hand on his shoulder, and Zevlor relaxed into the gesture. "I appreciate it. All I need from you right now is trust," Zevlor turned to meet her gaze, "and perhaps a little prayer." Tav smiled, a worry mirroring his own, acknowledging the limited options. They had to go in, find the Druid Halsin, defeat the Goblins—for herself, her party, the tieflings, and Zevlor.

"I can do that," he said, a smile barely masking his worries. "Thank you, Tav."With a subtle nod, Tav acknowledged his gratitude, warmth blossoming within her. "You are very welcome," she replied, pride coloring her words as she looked back at the maps. "Alright, well, since that's settled, how about we have a drink?" Zevlor suggested, a twinkle in his eyes and a smile breaking through his worries. "I bet you could use one—the last one for a couple of days."

Tav chuckled. "A drink sounds like just the thing to take the edge off," she agreed, a smile playing at the corners of her lips.

Setting aside the maps, they made their way to a small alcove in the cave, bottles of spirits stashed within. Tav wondered if these were the last of Zevlor's provisions as he bent down to grab them.

"Are you sure you don't want to save them?" she interrupted, her concern evident in her voice. Longing for the warmth of the spirits, she felt it more appropriate for Zevlor to save them for a time when they could celebrate victories.

Zevlor chuckled, a hidden sadness behind his smile. "And then drink them by myself?" he joked, the weight of their situation underlying his tone. "Nonsense." Handing her one of the final bottles, he added, "Besides, it's just a small way to thank you."

Tav accepted the bottle with a grateful nod. "Then I shall accept the offer." With a soft pop, she opened the bottle, the sound echoing in the quiet alcove. Zevlor followed suit, mirroring her actions.

"To your courage," Zevlor toasted, lifting his bottle in the air.

"And to your kin," Tav replied, clinking their bottle necks together. As their gazes met, she sensed something in Zevlor's expression—a complexity she couldn't quite decipher.

"To my kin," Zevlor repeated softly, his voice filled with a mix of astonishment and gratitude. It was as if he couldn't quite believe that Tav would raise a toast for them. Yet, why was he still so surprised by her kindness?

As they made their way back to the table, Tav took a seat on its top, the warmth from the drink spreading through her chilled body. As she settled in, she couldn't help but cast a lingering gaze around the alcove. It was a small, dimly lit space, tucked away in the depths of the Grove. The dampness of the surroundings seeped into the air, mingling with the faint scent of earth and stone.

Her eyes traced over Zevlor's personal belongings scattered around the alcove. A sense of sadness washed over her as she realized how many evenings he must have spent here alone before she came to aid him. Mustering the courage to speak, she pressed the bottle to her lips, taking big gulps, before placing it down beside her, a question formed on her lips. ''Are you lonely Zevlor?'' Tav's eyes wandered to the corner where Zevlor's messy bedroll lay tucked away. She imagined his restless nights in dark and damp solitude, carrying the burden of leadership by himself.At least she had her companions near her as she carried the burden of leadership, with them beside her, every task felt severely less daunting.

"I- it's," he stumbled quietly, seeking refuge in the bottle before continuing, "Tilly, she helps me during the day, it's company but..." His words trailed off, and a heavy silence settled between them. "When it's dark, I face the world alone." Tav's heart ached at his admission. She reached out her hand, a silent gesture inviting him closer. "If you'd like, I can stay a while longer," she offered her words lingering in the air. Zevlor hesitated briefly before extending his hand, allowing Tav to draw him nearer to the table.

"I'm cold, Zevlor. Come sit beside me," she encouraged, feeling the warmth in his touch as he complied. As he settled beside her, he took one last sip from his bottle for courage, feeling Tav gently lean her head onto his shoulder.

"We're in this together, Zevlor," she whispered softly, her voice barely audible as she reached for his hand. Zevlor's heart swelled with gratitude at her words, squeezing her hand in return.

-> Masterlist

[stardust948]

Half Off Chocolate

Prompt: They fight over discounted Valentine's Day chocolate while arguing over who had it worse.

Katara didn’t know why she didn’t just go home.

Her makeup was smeared from crying, dress wrinkled, and hair slipping out of its neat bun. She was a messed and felt even worse inside. Maybe that is why she stopped at the nearest convenient store for some well deserved and frankly overdue, sweets.

The store was a ghost town. Scattered pink and red merchandise laid abandoned on the floor and nearly empty shelves. Of course. Though it was still Valentine’s Day, the hour was late and most of the good stuff was long gone.

Katara wandered to the candy section, feeling like a lost spirit herself; haunting the remains of a once beautiful dwelling now succumbed to ruin. The candy ail was picked clean, as expected. Even the less popular treats were gone. Nothing left except a lone heart shaped red box. An ugly orange sticker slapped hastily on read the box was 50% off due to damage.

‘How fitting. A damaged heart for a damaged heart.’ Katara thought to herself.

A bitter half smile grew on her face as she reached out to pick it up. She did not notice the other hand reaching at the same time until they both grabbed the box. Katara gasped, more out of annoyance than surprise.

The person was a Fire Nation man about her age. He wore a fancy suit with the neck tie partly undone and had long black hair that spilled onto his face. Bits of red peaked under the hair on his left side, probably from a rash or blemish he was trying to hide. Despite this, he was admittedly attractive in his own way.

Katara glared. He must have forgotten what day it was, hastily threw on the fancy outfit and rushed to the store to buy sweets for his disappointed partner. Well too bad! Katara needed it more!

“Excuse you.” Katara said coldly. “I had that first.”

“What? No I did.”

“You’re wrong.” Katara yanked it, but the man held firm. “Let go!”

“I had it first! You let go!”

“No you!”

They yelled and tugged on the chocolate box like a couple of kids fighting on the playground.

“Do you have any idea what I’ve been through?!” Katara spat. “I’ve earned that chocolate!”

“Earned?! I need it more!!!”

“It’s not my fault you forgot Valentines’ Day and had to last minute shopping!”

“I didn’t forget! My girlfriend dumped me today of all days!”

“Oh boohoo! My long term boyfriend proposed today-“

“Well congratulations!” His voice dripped in sarcasm.

“After I caught him cheating, you prick!” Katara snapped. “He didn’t even apologize! Just pulled out a ring and thought that would fix everything!”

“You think that’s bad?! My ex dumped me by bringing the guy she was cheating on me with for the past 2 years!”

“My ex brought his fangirls to the proposal! The very ones who treated me like a maid and constantly threatened me just because I was dating him!”

“My ex threw a glass bottle at my head just for dating another girl while we were on break!”

“My ex threw a lit candle at me because I didn’t want to kiss him right then!”

“My ex did kiss me just to shut me up from talking about confused emotions!”

“My ex purposefully kept me away from my family and constantly belittled my culture!”

“My ex insulted me just for having different opinions from her!”  

“My ex compared my grief of my mom’s murder to losing his pet! Then scolded me for giving a witness report against the murder in trail!!!”

“My ex told my sister where I was knowing she’ll tell my abusive father!!!”

The box ripped in half, sending them flying back and pelting them with chocolate. The two stared at each other in stunned silence before the owner came storming up and kicked them out. The slammed door echoed across the bare parking lot as the two continued to stand there awkwardly.

“Did she really do those things?” Katara asked in a hushed tone.

“Yeah.” The man rasped. There was no hiding the sadness in his voice. “Yours’s?”

Katara nodded. “Yeah…”

“Sounds like a really crappy person.”

“Yours’s too.”

There was another brief silence before he spoke again.

“We’re better off without them.”

“Are we?” Katara asked. “We were just fighting over discounted chocolate 5 minutes ago.”

“Okay, maybe not tonight specifically… But in the long run, we’re better off.”

Katara rubbed her necklace as tears formed. She wanted to agree but a large part of her life was tied to that relationship. Tied to him. Katara shook her head. The stranger was right.

“We are better off.”

“Sorry about…” He gestured to the store behind them. ”That.”

“I’m sorry too.” Katara undid her messy bun, letting her hair fall free, then extended her hand. “I’m Katara.”

He accepted with a firm grip. “Zuko.”

[first-of-her-nxme]

I haven't read the books yet. What is Arya and Jaqen relationship like ? I don't mind spoilers

Hello Anon!

First of all, I apologize for the delay.

Arya's relationship with Jaqen is quite different in the books. For starters, Jaqen is a lot younger, only a few years older than Gendry, And he is not teaching Arya in Braavos. He leaves her in Harrenhal to pursue his own goal which is getting a dragon's egg and learning the secrets of hatching dragons in the Citadel. There is also a strong connection between Jaqen and Arya pairing and weirwood magic.

Jaqen first noticed Arya when she beat up Hot Pie on the way to Harrenhal. They were going to the Watch with Yoren, like in the show. Jaqen tried to make friends with Arya after the fight. I suspect he wanted to trick her into freeing him from the cage but it also looked as if he wanted to offer her protection because he saw that she was lonely and afraid. Arya was charmed by him from the start. She loved how handsome Jaqen was and noted his good manners.

They were attacked near the God's Eye lake like in the show. However, in the books the attack was much worse and the fire that the Lannisters's men started was horrific. The show didn't give the impression that rescuing Jaqen from the burning cage was that hard. In the books, Arya admitted to herself that it was the hardest thing she had ever done. She killed a man and risked her own life to save Jaqen. During the attack Jaqen also told Arya that he wanted to fight in the red war. The red war is the war of R'hllor, the same war Melisandre is preaching about - the battle for the Dawn. So, book!Jaqen is familiar with the prophecy and has been prepared to fight that battle.

The Lannisters's men took the recruits to Harrenhal. Jaqen followed to pay his debt to Arya. One night he found her sleeping in the cellar and woke her up to tell her he was willing to kill three men for her because she saved his life and the lives of Rorge and Biter. Arya wanted them to run away together but Jaqen refused and insisted on the killings. Arya was disappointed so he kissed her hair to comfort her. Such a charmer he is in the books :)

The killings were a bit different too. But they had the same effect on Arya like in the show. She felt stronger and brave again.

Arya's time with Jaqen in Harrenhal was different too because each of their meetings was more private and symbolic. In the show, Arya simply caught Jaqen in the courtyard when he was with other soldiers. In the books, there was intimacy to their first conversation in the cellar when she got her first kiss ever from the boy, all proper for her age of course. Then, she served wine to Jaqen at dinner and whispered the name to his ear. She gave him another name while he was bathing and finally they met in godswood. The godswood meeting showed their connection to weirwood magic. Arya was training with a wooden sword hiding in the weirwood leaves and thinking that she was happiest in that weirwood kingdom. It is very important to know that in the books weirwood magic means immortality to the chosen ones. There are many spirits living in weirwoods unlike in the show where we only saw Bloodraven and Bran. When Arya finally noticed Jaqen, he seemed to her like the tree. Of course in the books he looks like a slender weirwood with his pale skin and red and white hair. It was then when Arya gave Jaqen his name. Jaqen then made an oath to Arya taking the gods as his witnesses and in return she promised him to obey.

After that the two of them made a ruse to free the prisoners from the North. It's called weasel soup in the books. I won't go into details but you must know that during the fight, Jaqen protected Arya and killed a man. Then, he wiped his bloodied sword in her shift to make her his partner in crime because he killed the man for her. It was yet another very intimate detail of their Harrenhal adventure.

Then, they parted ways. Jaqen offered Arya a journey to Braavos but she declined saying that she needed to find her family first. Then, he said he had his promises to keep as well and gave her the coin. That scene was more intense than their good bye in the show. They were talking surrounded by fighting and dying men and Jaqen knelt before Arya to be closer to her. He left Harrenhal and went to Pyke to kill Balon Greyjoy and earn a dragon's egg from Euron. His next stop is Oldtown where he is posing as Pate the novice. "Pate" is a roommate of Sam Tarly. As you can see this plot was entirely cut from the show.

Arya and Jaqen haven't seen each other since then but their future reunion is hinted at a few times in the books. Most notably, I think, in the Prologue to A Feast for Crows where the novice of the Citadel, Pate, is a foil for Jaqen and Rosey, his beloved, is a foil for Arya.

Unfortunately, GRRM didn't plan the books too well. The author intended on making Arya older in A Feast for Crows so she would be fifteen/sixteen. The time jump didn't work for other characters though so he abandoned the idea. That's why now we have an awkwardly young Arya and the storyline meant for an older character.

I would encourage you to read the books to get into all the meaningful details regarding Arya, Jaqen and other characters. The story is very different from what the show offered. However, the books are still incomplete and we don't know if GRRM is going to finish them at all. So you are reading them at your own risk.

Thank you for dropping by.

[jifanjiang0710]

Truth and Lie

yan! Kafka x reader

Very mild spoilers for her story quest.

“Let’s play a game, Kafka.”

“…oh?”

You know her. She’s expecting an offer as a prerequisite, something worth her time and effort. Anything she gives, she takes in equal or more amounts. Not only will your transaction have to be balanced, the sacrifice you make on your end must exceed her expectations withal. Naturally, the higher regard she holds a person in the more she will anticipate of them. It had been Elio, then the Trailblazer, and perhaps the most intriguing one yet, you. (You dare not presume that you hold any major significance to her. Maybe just a little more than that Stellaron vessel.)

The cityscape below reflects off her sunglasses, in flashing lines of neon. You lean over the railings, savouring the coolness of night. This planet has not been a kind one, but at least, its sky is beautiful.

“I’ll spend the night with you.”

“…”

“I’ll let you use Spirit Whisper on me.”

“Is that the best you can do, [Name]?”

This request of her was not made on a whim.  You come prepared. “We play truth and lie. In return …ask me any one question, and I will answer truthfully.”

“That sounds almost trivial, compared to the other two.”

“Is that not the thrill of the game? To not know whether I am cheating, a challenge for you all-knowing, scheming, manipulating mind? I should like to think that I am an enigma on my own,” you go on, an unmistakeable signature flair to your tone.

“Hm,” she chuckles. “Interesting offer, but I think we can go a little higher.”

“Then…” You had a feeling you’d need to resort to this. You lean closer to her, unable to suppress the roguish smile adorning your features. This is not a statement to be made lightly. “I can make you feel real fear for the first time.”

…

Perhaps you’ve made her angry. Whatever the case, the atmosphere is teetering on the precipice of something rather daunting. You find it incredulous that almost half a minute had passed in absolute silence.

“Can you keep your end of the bargain?”

Relieved that you aren’t going to die just yet, you respond with the affirmative. “I will try. Though… I cannot guarantee that results yielded will be satisfactory. You can back out if you want.”

You know her. Once something has caught her attention, she does not let if off easily. You are a prime example.

“…heh. Very well.”

Kafka places a finger on your chin, tilting it until your eyes meet hers. “Fire away.”

You grin. One game, two questions. You have to make this count.

“If I were to run away, abandon you and the Stellaron hunters, what weaknesses of yours could I exploit?”

Her smile fades, clearly unamused, disappointed at the question, but you have grander plans.

“Enlist the help of the Xianzhou Luofu, or the Astral Express crew. They would be able to help you in your plight.”

Exactly what you needed to hear.

“Was it worth it to ask such a question to guarantee that my next answer would be the truth? Now, little one…” Kafka continues, “my turn.”

“Wait, my offer was-”

“Shh. A game has to involve both persons equally, don’t you agree? Time for my question. Don’t worry, I’ll ask only one.” She swipes a thumb across your cheek. “What am I to you?”

-> (Tell the truth) Someone important to me

-> (Tell the truth) My worst enemy

-> (Tell a lie) Someone important to me

-> (Tell a lie) My worst enemy

[barbielore]

I have never seen any of the Barbie animated films before. But it’s Christmas, and even though I don’t really celebrate the holiday, I love the book A Christmas Carol; and I love A Muppet Christmas Carol. So Barbie in A Christmas Carol seemed like the obvious way to dip my toe in.

My notes from watching are below!

In the framing device scenes of Barbie telling the story to Kelly, Barbie is wearing a silver dress that looks like pretty much the same dress as 2008 Holiday Barbie, even though that wasn’t an official tie in doll for the film.

Instead of Ebenezer Scrooge, a miserly businessman, we have Eden Starling, an opera singing diva. Her childhood friend Catherine seems to play the role of Scrooge’s nephew but given she also works for the theatre there’s a dash of Cratchitt in there too?

Eden tells everyone not to bother coming back if they don’t come in to rehearse for the new show on Christmas. Even Scrooge only told Cratchitt to be there all the earlier the next morning. 

Aunt Marie (the stand in for Marley) is draped in chains - but these chains have mirrors on the ends instead of cash boxes and ledgers. I presume to represent her sins of vanity instead of financial greed.

The spirit of Christmas past is really cute, like an excitable little elf. 

Little Eden wants to spend time with friends but Aunt Marie makes her rehearse all Christmas instead of seeing other people. Eden sneaks out to go to a party instead of practicing. 

I’m sure it’s in the interests of streamlining the story for Barbie audiences, but I’m a little disappointed the spirit of Christmas past only takes Eden to one place. 

Christmas Present shows the theatre workers throwing tomatoes at a picture of Eden. That’s pretty funny but it’s not much of a lesson. That’s okay - Christmas Present takes her to a second location, presumably so we can meet our Tiny Tim. In this case it’s the reveal that Catherine is working for another theatre as well; or so Eden thinks. Actually it’s an orphanage putting on a Christmas pageant, and our Tiny Tim is a little girl who walks with a crutch and idealises Eden. Catherine lies to her and says Eden is very sorry she can’t come in person but is so proud of all of them. I don’t know why but I got a little emotional about that!

Anyway the orphanage is about to close due to lack of funds. This doesn’t strike me as quite as resonant because Eden is a diva and selfish but none of her sins we’ve seen so far are related to finances.

Alright, time for Christmas Future. The show is a shambles because she fires all her staff for coming in late and their replacements are rubbish so the show is an embarrassment. This means Eden lives in squalor because she lost her career. Her best friend Catherine is now a famous fashion designer, but has got there by being as selfish as Eden is. The orphanage closed down because Catherine had to go out of town to find new work and she never found out what happened to the children.

Catherine indicates she would have adopted Tammy if she had known, but didn't get the chance. The other kids can just miss out I guess?

We the audience don’t find out what became of Tammy, so we don’t know if she died like Tiny Tim. We can assume it wasn’t a great outcome for her, but it’s left to our imagination. 

The red dress Eden is wearing at the end is the one from the tie in dolls! 

Eden adopts (by which I assume she means financially support) the whole orphanage which doesn’t seem really like it suits the arc but sure I’ll allow it. 

At the end of the movie I finally realise that Catherine was supposed to be Barbie’s friend Nikki. Apparently there was a doll prototype for Catherine, but I don't think she ever got released.

That doll I shared above wasn't the only tie-in doll though! There was also a giftset with Kelly dolls dressed as the spirits. Missed opportunity because the spirits were of different ages. I would have liked to see a doll of the Spirit of Christmas Present as seen in the movie!

I looked up some reviews of the novelisation to see if there were any changes, and only then did I realise I missed something -- Catherine isn't supposed to represent nephew Fred at all. The magician who has a crush on Catherine is Fred, leaving Catherine in just the Cratchitt role. That in hindsight makes a little more sense.

I'm not sure if I'll watch any more of the Barbie movies, but that was a good start. (If you think I should watch more, by all means tell me so, and recommend some!)

[somethingblu3]

Thy Mercy | Father Anthony Bridge

Read on Ao3 here.

18+ minors dni.

Fandom: Casualty

Summary:

Father Anthony commands you to list out the rosary.

TW: Church Sex, Spanking, Candles Wax Play, Improper Use of a Rosary, Priest Kink, Author is not Christian, Forbidden Secret, Relationship,neil newbon - Freeform, Begging, Burns, Dom/sub, Dirty Talk, Bible Kink, No Beta, mouth spitting, Mutual Masturbation, cum, Paddle, Humiliation, lightly edited, Orgasm Delay/Denial.

Pairing: Father Anthony Bridge x female afab reader

Word Count: 1,844

Divider Credit: firefly-graphics.

Note:

I'm not Christian, but I did go to church when I was younger. It's been over a decade since I've used a rosary, so I'm not entirely sure if the beads are accurate.

“Say it,” Father Anthony ordered in the shadows. You both sat in the empty church. The only light came from the flicker of the oil candles that hung from the ceiling. You had never been in a Church alone, especially not on a cold, dark winter night like this. Your hands are sweaty as they trace over the familiar chunky beads. It was a gift given to you by your grandmother. You remember sitting at her vanity as she gifted you the beads. They were sacred, and you kept them secure under your pillow at night, not wanting to lose them, but you almost dropped them as you felt Father Anthony’s gaze lock on you in the shadows. He was watching, waiting for you to start.

He had warned you that if you stuttered or your voice faltered, he would spank you. From the corner of your eye, you could see Anthony's hands clutching the black paddle in his hands as he readied himself. Your breathing hitches as your sweaty hands clutch at the burgundy glass. Your mind goes blank, but you can feel Anthony’s hand ghost your sides, closing your eyes. You took a breath, trying to cleanse your dry lips. Anthony pushes his nails into your thighs, a sign for you to start.

“In the name of the Father, The Son, and of the Holy Spirit Amen” Your fingers move towards the first bead, feeling the contours of the Crucifix between them. He hadn’t even done anything yet, not even touched your skin. You could feel something against it, maybe his fingers or the brush of the silver of his belt as he grinded against you; it was hard to tell in the dark. It was scary not knowing what was coming next. He had blinded you before, but here you were in the Church surrounded by the darkness. You were both very evasive about your relationship. If anyone ever found out about this, Anthony would be fired and defrocked, not even that he would be ousted from the community.

He was more protective of that in the early days, but as your relationship developed, he found it harder and harder to let you go. You were his biggest sin. He couldn’t walk away from second to drinking. You lick your lips as they suddenly turn dry, and you hear him play with the silver of his belt. A warning. “Our father, who art in heaven…” He pulls back your black skirt, which he told you to wear for this evening’s service. Your breathing hitches as you press on, moving to the smaller beads. “Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee.” “Faster,” Anthony hisses as his belt drops to the ground, and you feel his hands grab you by your waist. “The Agony in the Garden…The Soc-Sco-ugring at the-” You pause as he slides inside you. As always, you are already wet and sticky. His hand teases your clit, preparing you, and you hear him groan in delight. You didn’t want to disappoint him. You could already hear his voice in your head.

You stutter, “At the-Fuck” You are so tight, but that doesn’t stop him. His breathing increases Anthony halts you trying to search for your voice as it escapes you, and you feel the ip of Anthony’s cock ghosting over your back and cum dripping down your legs; you're already so wet. Not that you are surprised. He waits for a moment and clicks his tongue. You can’t help but feel…disappointed. “The scourging at the pillar,” you finish confidently. Anthony nods. “Good girl,” he praises you as he inserts himself into you once again. “The crowning with thorns-” you hesitate as you feel your cheeks flush increase. “And the crucifixion.” “You missed one,” Anthony scolds as he removes himself from you and then takes you over his lap. “The carrying of the cross,” he tells you as his paddle is against your skin."I'm sorry, father." You cry. "Again. Say them again," He demands as the paddle rests inches away from your skin, a lingering threat. You take a shaky breath, clutching the bread, and then you start again, but your brain has already turned to mush. "In the name--" You swallow as you feel him consider if he should spank you or not, but he doesn't. You clear your throat as you start again, your fingers finding their way to the beads. "In the name of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, Amen." His fingers glide against your skin.

You know he won't mark it yet, but you can't help but shiver under his grip. "Our father, who art in heaven." You continue as you move on to the next bead and then the next until you reach "The Agony in the Garden..." You pause, trembling the pad inches and inches away from your skin, and as he presses further, you fumble. "Fuck-i'm so sorry, father." You sob as his paddle spanks against your skin. "I'm so sorry," you tremble. "I thought I had trained you better than this," Anthony snarled You lower your eyes, focusing down on the wooden floor, feeling nothing but shame course through you as he spanks.

"Count. Count to four," He orders, his other hand rubbing your other cheek "One" Smack "Tw-ooh" Smack "Fuck-Thr-eee" He pauses but then adds another smack. "F-ffour" you finish He smacks again. "Good girl, now let's start again from the top."

You nod and carry on repeatedly, but then, this time, you stop at the crucifixion. You close your eyes, knowing what is coming next. You tried to prepare yourself, but there isn't another smack at your ass. Instead, Father Anthony pulls away for a moment, and then he finally starts once again. "I don't think this taught you much of a lesson, did it?" He asks with an arched brow You are too stunned to speak as you feel your ass clench from the stings. He's not going to start again, is he? Usually, he would give breaks in between or at least kiss and "So why don't we try again?" "Father, please-" He ignores you as he reaches over and grabs a candle from the holder. It drips onto your skin, and you hiss, chowing down on your cheek to bear the pain.

"Good girl," he tells you as he messages your head. He watches as your body jitters. The pain is unreal, the sensation of the hot wax. He throws down the paddle, tossing it onto the wooden floor as he grips the candle in his hand, the wax melting his skin. He inserts himself inside you once again. "Let's start from the crucifixion and see if you can finally finish." You nod, shivering from the heat. You feel like you are melting, but also, at the same time, you know that Father Anthony won't hurt you. That was against his moral code, but the pain thrill was still exciting.

"Okay," You gulp as he thrusts inside you. Your dry cum drips between your legs like the candle wax between his fingers. "Okay, okay," you whimper as you get used to his thrusts as they increase in speed, still feeling the tingle of the wax drip down your lower back. "In the name of the Father, The Son, and of the Holy Spirit, Amen...." Thrust "Our father, who art in heaven…" Thrust. Now, the room is filled with the sound of his skin smacking against yours. His other hand finds its way to your left waist, pulling you as close as humanly possible. Your moans were escapable now. If someone were to walk in right now, it would be clear as day what the two of you were up to, and that feeling made your heart race, and you could just about see your skin turn bright red under the glow of the candle.

"Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee. The Agony in the Garden…The Scourging at the-” "Go on," He commands "The scourging at the pillar, The crowning with thorns, and the--the" You can feel yourself approaching your final orgasm as it tricks down your legs, and you roll your head back. You feel Anthony's hand in your hair as he croons your neck to look at you. He pants and spits in your mouth, his chin covered in drool. He stops trapping your hand clutched with the beads firmly.

"Hold on-" He commands as he takes the warm beads from your hands. "Turn around and face me," He commands," and he does You shiver as you finally meet his gaze. He's tired but happy as a small smirk appears at the corner of his lips. Forecebilly he takes the rosary from your hands and shoves them inside your sticky pussy. "Father," You gasp as you feel the beads between your legs. He chuckles darkly "You are such a good girl," he tells you, stroking your hair. "You're doing the Lord's work," he mumbles the sensation. Of the beads rocking between your legs is something else. The small cross rubs against the end of your pussy, edging you even closer and closer without him even touching you. You watch him as he takes his dick in his hand, proud of himself as he watches you stutter and moan, grabbing onto one of the pews. "Let yourself go, love," he instructs as he quickens the pace of his hand on his dick.

You nod, and your eyes roll back, your breathing hitching. You spot him as cum dribbles down from the head of his cock onto his robes. Your hand fiddles for the beads, and you begin rolling them against yourself. God, it was shameful, especially with how much they meant to you, but you knew after this, they would be covered in your seed, in your wetness, and you would give it to him as a gift, perhaps as a birthday present, so that he would always. Be near you. You grin at that thought.

A subtle reminder. "Now, what comes after the crucifixion, my love?" He urges as he wipes his cum against his robes "The Resurrection," you pant. You knew that wasn't all of the stages, but for now, it was the most you could get through without faltering, and you felt proud of yourself as a smile plucked at his lips. Once you finish, you both orgasm against each other, his seed mixed with your wetness. He throws the candle stick into the trash and licks his finger with your mixed juices, but his robe is still a mess. You are too weak to speak, and then he catches you as you are about to collapse onto the floor. "I want to treasure this forever." He pants as he rushes towards you, shoving your hair behind your ear, and kisses your neck as your eyes drift close. "This is heaven...". You lower your head against his neck, and you catch your breath. This man will be the death of you.