#There are plenty of posts here that have worded it far better than I could

[sortingmyideas]

But i would like to warn you that this is an uphill battle. Some asexuals tried to fight the umbrella term while it was still gaining traction and they were largely banned, called gatekeepers, or left in frustration. I don't keep a close eye on the community so maybe things have changed but judging from the amount of "asexuals can still like sex!" still around, i'm not optimistic

I know I'm probably not gonna change anything with my suggestion. I'm certainly not the first and I highly doubt I'll be the last to have this complaint.

I'm mostly hoping that eventually, enough people will have said something that aspecs as a whole will take a proper look at it.

I just want everyone to be happy.

[swordgrace]

❝ 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐎𝐑 𝐎𝐅 𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆.❞

KINKTOBER WEEK ONE — OVERSTIMULATION.

⤿ pairings: jacaerys velaryon x betrothed!reader.

⤿ word count: 6.5K (i got carried away)

⤿ warnings: smut (mdni), experienced!reader, dom!reader, sub!jace, dry humping/grinding, jace is a virgin, horny/yearning jace, mutual pining, heavy kissing, overstimulation (fem!rec), fingering (fem!rec), handjob, cunnilingus (fem!rec), talking jace through it, praise kink, hair-pulling kink, lots of body kissing, teasing, dirty talk, lots of begging

⤿ note: lowkey this is the final jace post for a long time, I think I got it all out & tried to combine some kinktober requests all into one :)) hope y’all enjoy!

Dusky curls fall across pallid features, brows creased in concentration with a curtain of stoicism.

The scrawling of a quill scratches hastily against parchment, its destination unknown to you. It is difficult to see him as a man grown, for men do not often pout with pliant lips.

Nightfall brings an unwanted chill, the first inklings of oceanic ice biting away at your bones, swirling about through the ancient stronghold of Dragonstone. Even the fur-lined slip you wear does not offer much comfort.

In the sparse moments that you shared with Jacaerys since the announcement of your union, you’ve strived to learn as much as you can about him. Loveless, tenuous arrangements were commonplace — you did not want to waste your years toiling alongside a man who cared little for you.

To your great fortune, he shared your sentiments, tracing the outline of your soul with his fingertips, gracing you with his time whenever he could. With the youth of the evening underway, you sought him out, having missed him at dinner.

Between the gap in the door and the cobbled archway, you stand within the shadows of the corridor, one palm perched along ancient mahogany. Wordlessly, you keep to your fleeting observations, hues flickering across the handsome plane of his visage.

The Prince of Dragonstone — your intended, whose kindly hand continued to cradle yours through the endless turbulence of a darkening political climate. You considered yourself lucky — it could’ve been much worse, an arranged marriage.

Jacaerys’s chambers fare far better than your own, befitting of royalty, steeped in Targaryen decorum and tapestries of crimson and black. Candlelight dances across his jaw, bathing him in a light so spectacular that it nearly rips the air from your lungs.

Handsome is a mere understatement — the Velaryon prince was every bit as comely as some gallant knight ripped from pages of a novella. Your stomach erupts with constant butterflies whenever you catch a glimpse of him, longing to tangle yourself within him.

For a moment, he pays you little mind, drowning in a sea of parchment, tackling the growing duties ushered in by the brink of war. You admired his desire for usefulness — he had brought plentiful allies into the fold with his determination and ambition.

“You did not come to dinner,” Your announcement is disarmingly gentle, the croon of a songbird through dusk as you slip inside of his quarters. It seems to ensnare him then, having you here, unchaperoned. “Are you not famished?”

You carried a silver plate of lukewarm foodstuffs, roasted quail, broiled vegetables, and a smattering of fruit — his stomach lurches at the sight. “I suppose I lost track of time,” He exhales, placing his quill down atop his desk. “Forgive me — my responsibilities seem rather endless.”

Beauty blossomed from you like a flourishing meadow, the warmth of springtime; tender, made to cloak him in your sweetness. He was captivated by you, still smitten to be alone in a room, and yet he committed countless sins within the recesses of his mind.

Between the occasional grace of your hand and a chaste kiss against his cheek, it left Jacaerys within a realm of wanting. An ocean of you, and he was drowning. It was improper to think of you in such a salacious manner, but the hot blood of youth prevailed.

“Then break from it,” You insisted, footsteps light as you crossed the threshold from doorway to desk, nudging the plate of food in his direction. “Hours without a quill in-hand will not hinder you any less.”

A threadbare smile graced his comely features, and he seemed accepting of your suggestion. In the time that you had been betrothed, he had made every effort to learn more about you — such efforts were not in-vain, as he made ample progress.

There was a kindly warmth to you, a depth that he found invigorating. You were shy, initially — time softened you, and you unfurled like the petals of a moonflower, showing your promise and intelligence, your swift wit.

Reluctantly, Jacaerys submitted to your advice, abandoning his quill and parchment for the somewhat mundane taste of now-cold food. Still, it was enough to relieve the gnawing bite within his stomach, allowing him to relax as much as one could.

“Why does your quill scratch so furiously?” Your inquiry drifted through the air, to be caught by him. It seemed that his only company was that of dust-laden tomes and endless parchment that swallowed him whole.

Begrudgingly, a wistful sigh tore past your betrothed’s rosy lips, fixed into a vexed expression. “I work tirelessly to bring allies into the fold for my mother’s cause,” He uttered, picking at the stem of a grape. “Some of it is to no avail.”

Empathetic, you placed your palm atop his shoulder, sinking into velvet and toughened silk. He nearly buckled beneath such a simple touch alone, fighting away the string of untoward thoughts. Instead, he reached, digits climbing to seize yours.

“Do not let this weight burden you so, Jacaerys. There are more than enough men to even the load,” Shaking his head, you were again privy to your intended’s glaring streak of stubbornness. “You do not have to take it all on your shoulders.”

“It is the only way to find some shred of worth, of usefulness,” He bemoaned his mother’s tight leash — she never let him scout, take to the skies on Vermax, participate in anything that wasn’t docile. “Being coddled in this way is maddening.”

Silken digits flexed around his hand, prompting him to relax, if he were even capable of such a thing. “If I were the Queen, my desire would be to protect you. Coddling can be easily mistaken for an overprotective nature.” You soothed, canting your head to one side.

He took little comfort in your words, as much as he longed to believe them. Perhaps he did not see such a goal now — in time, his thoughts may shift. “I will not trouble you with such thoughts any longer.” Jacaerys exhaled, and you let it rest.

In an unexpectedly sweet gesture, you brought his hand to the plushness of your lips, and as if you were some debonair swordsman, kissed his knuckles. The obvious flush of rose permeated his cheeks, and you then released his hand, much to his dismay.

Silence filled the void of conversation as you wandered about his chambers, quietly admiring the draconic decorum before seeking to sit, plucking at your nightgown. Being alone with him, here — it wasn’t entirely proper, and subconsciously, you were aware of this.

“Did supper yield any conversation of importance?” He inquired, eyes following you as you sat down atop the velveteen cushion of the chaise lounge. Hues of wisteria and mauve comprised your evening gown, colors that you wore splendidly.

“You did not miss much of anything,” Twisting around within your seat, you faced Jacaerys, tucking a fist beneath your chin. “Though, I certainly missed your presence. I feel like a stranger without you near.” You murmured.

Sent to Dragonstone to be at the side of your betrothed, you were away from home — unnerved, pensive, and left to wander about with no true direction. Jacaerys had done his best at ensuring that you were comfortable, but the feeling was not a permanent one.

“For that, I apologize,” Jace sighed, finishing half of his plate before rising from his seat. “I fear that this conflict has put a strain on all within this castle. You are not the source of any indifference.” He assured you, circling the lounge to sit by your side.

Closeness was something he’d yearned for in a way he never had before, and within the proximity of your warmth, he seemed to bristle. Seven Hells, how would he outlast this storm? He could not seem to halt the mounting desire he had for you.

If it weren’t for his sensibility and wanting to be gallant for you, as your intended husband, the impetuousness of lust would’ve guided his hand.

Crackling embers within the hearth began to wane, basking you in shades of orange, growing duller with each passing moment. He sat up straighter in your presence, stealing glances where he could, committing your features to memory.

Reassured, you offered him a gracious smile, hands folded neatly within your lap. “It is comforting to know that my presence here is not unwanted,” You sighed, casting your gaze to the flames. “I must thank you for your kindness, Jacaerys.”

A fluttering heat settled within the pit of your stomach when you momentarily caught his eyes — earthy-brown swirling with something indiscernible, yet something faintly familiar. Carnality was not lost upon you, for you had experienced it before.

Jacaerys, however — you pondered if your betrothed was still virtuous. The sins committed in your youth had been carefully hidden beneath many layers, layers you felt as if you could reveal to him.

Clearing his throat, Jacaerys tempered himself, wanting to pull himself in from acting upon basic impulses. Some part of him felt truly depraved for thinking of you in such untoward ways, but he couldn’t help himself. Many evenings were spent in grisly solitude, dreaming of you, fantasizing.

”It is my duty as your betrothed to ensure your comfort,” His words emerged as somewhat breathless, as if he were labored in his attempts to draw air. You did not see it, but he fisted the cloth along his thigh in an attempt to relieve some tension. “I am to be your husband.”

“Yes, and for that, I am eternally grateful,” Steeling yourself, you decided to give him the truth, unobstructed and plain as a clear day. “I do not wish for there to be any secrets kept between us, which is why I must confess something to you.”

Perplexed, dark brows furrowed together, yet they seemed to show little signs of hostility or malice. There were countless options as to what this could be — anything. A secret laid bare before him in a moment like this had the potential to ruin everything.

Through a clenched fist and tight jaw, Jacaerys swallowed the growing lump within his throat, affording you the courtesy of his undivided attention. “What is troubling you?” Rigid, he waited for you to speak, noticing the brief hesitation that surrounded you.

A sliver of you feared judgment, that such past deeds would permeate your union in a sour light, but you hoped that Jacaerys would not begrudge you for it. With a steady inhale, you cleared your throat.

“I have lost my maidenhead,” Silently, you pleaded to whatever Gods would listen, hoping that Jacaerys would be kind enough to lend you his understanding. “Before this union, before I was betrothed to you. It was long in the past and something that weighs heavily on me.”

It was not anger he felt, but jealousy.

Jealous that another man had the pleasure of having you, to touch you, to live within your fair heart. He nearly shuddered when imagining you in such a lewd manner, so much so that his features became rosy in pallor. Yet, it was long in the past and something set in-stone.

Out of nervousness, you let out a soft cough, smoothing your palms across your legs. “I — Please forgive me, Jacaerys. I only wished to have transparency between us. I hope that this does not tarnish anything.”

“No,” Jacaerys inhaled sharply, hot air filling his lungs, heart thrumming beneath his ribcage. “It does not tarnish anything.” An angry heat crawled across his spine, settling his flesh ablaze with another wave of want, an ache that refused to leave him.

“You are not angry with me?” The sweetness of your inquiry tasted saccharine upon his tongue, honeyed words tangling around his heart. It wasn’t something that you were proud of, but you did not regret such actions, either.

“I am not,” He assured, tensing when you brazenly reached for his hand, squeezing it as a show of affection. Jacaerys felt so incredibly pathetic, feeling his cock twitch incessantly within his trousers from the mere touch of your heavenly hand. “You are still my betrothed. My sentiments will not change.”

Even still, he looked pensive, as if he were teetering on the brink of madness. There was a visible frustration within his features that betrayed his words, prompting you to question him sharply.

“You seem agitated, even still. What troubles you?” It was too shameful to confess to his insurmountable sins — how horribly he desired you, this heart of rot. Jacaerys feared that you would despise him if he said what was on his heart and mind.

Flushed and flustered, he looked away, yet you continued to chase after him, digits caressing across his hand. Gooseflesh iced his spine, throat growing with thickness as he shook his head. “It is improper, and unbecoming of a Prince.”

“More unbecoming than what I just confessed to you?” You wanted him to be put at-ease — intimacy was merely a fact of life, and you understood its sacredness, but the past was simply that. “Jacaerys, we are to be wed, you and I. Consummation will inevitably be apart of that. There isn’t anything that you could say that would turn me away now.”

He would seek absolution on the morrow for this — there was no returning from the onslaught of desire he now faced. It was as if a great storm had rattled his bones, and instead of rainfall, it was his lust laid bare, as dark as swirling thunderclouds.

Biting at his tongue, Jacaerys attempted to stave off his confession, earthen hues flickering away, clinging to anything else. It was wrong to think of you so often — and each thought was wrought with a stinging lust.

“I hunger for you,” It was spoken in a gravelly groan that made your insides twist with a newfound excitement. His cock was throbbing, aching with something awful. “I am envious of this man in your past, longing to be in his place. I have … Thought about you, in ways that are untoward.”

Fluttering breaths hitched within the depths of your throat, growing thicker with each passing moment. Nails dug into the cushion beneath you, his confession leaving behind a wake of fire, turning you to ash.

Admittedly, Jacaerys was not alone in his lascivious imaginations — you fantasized about the very same, more times than you could possibly count.

Jacaerys steeled himself, and as much as he desired to remain collected and maintain propriety, it was all dissolving at the seams. “I — I have not the experience that you have, but I hope that I can learn what pleases you.”

His affections were ravenous, the sting of youth that burned with inexperience, yet he cared little for such a thing. Jacaerys was eager, beyond desperate to know how to best pleasure you, longing for your instruction, if you would offer it freely.

A growing fire stirred within your loins, enough to make your breath hitch within your throat. “Do you wish to consummate tonight?” You questioned, and to that, Jacaerys shook his head.

“No, no — I want to touch you,” His desperation was gorgeous, something that you seldom experienced. “I long to learn your body, but I fear that I may covet you.” Jacaerys uttered, lips parting as a wisp of air tore past his mouth.

“There is no sin in coveting your wife,” Your voice had rolled into some mesmerizing lull, a near-purr that sent shivers down his spine. “Someone who is already yours.” The label was now established, and you were quite satisfied with that. You were blessed to have one of the better husbands in the realm.

Jacaerys huffed, pliant lips graced by firelight, deliciously pink as he met your mouth halfway. It was a frenzied kiss, born of his own yearning and overwhelming desperation, and yours began to climb to new heights of their own.

This hunger was different — it was thrilling and exhilarating, sending a rush of excitement to your stomach, thighs shifting together beneath your nightgown. Your hands reached for his shoulders, digits toying with the clasps of his cloak.

Tousled curls framed his freckled visage, cheeks blossoming with a delicate shade of rose as he kissed you, so passionate that it nearly stole your breath from your lungs. Your digits then crawled towards the nape of his neck, seeking to pull him closer.

A simpering groan stirred within his throat, erupting in a cacophony of breathy sighs as he felt you press closer. Silk clung to your frame, allowing him to glimpse your beauteous curves, to know that something perfect dwelled beneath.

Pupils blown with lust were shielded beneath thick eyelashes and fluttering lids as he scrambled to catch his breath, hands unsure of themselves. “Show me what to do,” Jacaerys sighed, feeling your lips halt to a crawl. “Please.”

To your awe and delight, Jacaerys was subservient, willing to learn and to let you guide his hand. Instinct would drive him soon enough. “Let your hand wander, wherever it pleases you.” Soft digits folded around his wrist, bringing his palm to your collarbone.

If he acted on such whims, there was no telling where his hand might travel, and so he restrained himself. Soft gossamer fabrics swept against his fingertips as he felt the divide where clothing met flesh. He wanted to unravel you, see you with his own eyes.

An excitable shiver iced his spine, jaw tensed as you slipped from your robe, only a curtain of thin silk resting between him and your body. His features seemed permanently steeped in a warm blush, painted with a swath of rose and pink.

The soft peaks of your nipples pebbled beneath fabric at the loss of your robe, gooseflesh raking across your skin at the pace of a wave. His hesitation was visible, etched into his features as he deliberated on what to do, afraid of startling you as if you were a doe in the woodlands.

It was then when you pressed closer, slipping yourself into the expanse of his lap, tossing a leg over his hips until you settled fully. His earthy hues widened, breath hitching within the depths of his throat as he struggled to maintain his composure.

What he wanted to do and what was expected of him were two forking avenues. Jacaerys felt his mouth water involuntarily, palms finally finding their confidence as he placed them atop your hips, caressing toward your thighs. “You are mesmerizing, and even that is a sore understatement.”

His honeyed words elicited a smile from you, fingers gracing the velvet of his doublet, seeking to slip beneath the clasps to remove his tunic. “May I?” You inquired, eyelashes fluttering in rapid succession as your betrothed nodded breathlessly.

As nimble fingers sought to rid him of his tunic, Jacaerys craned forward, mouth desperately seeking your own. A delicate gasp slipped past your lips, dancing with his own, hands preoccupied with feasting upon bare flesh.

He was lean, musculature present yet nothing close to bulky. Broad shoulders were covered in smatterings of freckles that climbed toward his visage, dusted across his face. Jace shivered beneath your palms as they skirted across his chest.

The prominent tent within his trousers brought about an ache like no other, one that he longed to extinguish. Your position made it difficult for him to focus, occasionally bumping your core against him, thighs squeezing incessantly at his hips.

The galloping of his heart slammed against his ribcage, a fluttering sensation spreading like hot tendrils throughout his chest. Darkening hues caught a glimpse of your breasts, yearning to see you without any obstruction at all.

A pang of anxiousness swelled with his gut, the nervousness of performing, of ensuring that you were well-satisfied by his hand. Each kiss evoked a wave of desire that threatened to burn him to ash in your fire, feeling your fingers rake through his curls.

His hands kindly roamed over your body, cupping the swell of your hips through your gown before rising across your stomach. They inevitably sought your breasts, kneading into your clothed flesh, and he felt the soft moan stir within your throat.

Only thin laces provided a degree of separation — between your heavenly flesh and his sinful hand.

“Where do you enjoy being touched?” Jacaerys whispered, features feverishly hot, basked in an orange glow; ethereal, with the makings of a true prince. “I wish to please you.” The needy strain within his tone filled your belly with fire.

“By your hand? Everywhere,” You crooned, dazzled by his gentleness and eagerness to learn. Jacaerys touched you with true selfless intent, driven by the carnal desire to please you, satisfy you as your intended husband. “Between my legs, my thighs, breasts, neck.”

Jacaerys reached for the laces of your nightgown, searching your countenance for any sign of hesitation. “May I undress you?” He questioned, voice pitched with lust, a delicious husk that scratched a certain part deep within you.

“Yes,” A huff, a sigh of relief — you were the very picture of temptuous beauty, armed with the grace of a maiden. You watched with thinly-veiled rapture as Jacaerys gingerly tugged at the laces, silk sagging upon your form. “You are so perfect.”

He was a novice still, merely an apprentice when it came to the intricacies of sensuality, yet hearing your sweetly-spoken praise made him preen. Billowing silk fell away, unraveling your form until it was naked flesh exposed to the warmer air of his chambers.

Gods, you were so beautiful — painfully so, a goddess incarnate, made for him to worship so reverently at your feet. Jacaerys could not mask his want for you, tracing along your bare flesh as if you were a map of constellations, yet even stars would envy you.

With a steadily-growing confidence and assurance, Jacaerys’s fingers caressed along your thigh, tracing upward until he reached the pliant curve of your chest. He cupped your breast, feeling you bristle beneath his touch, thumb brushing across your nipple.

A shiver gripped you, lips parting with a soft gasp as you careened forward, gooseflesh crawling along your spine. “Jacaerys,” A low moan stirred within your throat, eyes pleasantly half-lidded. You felt his lips cautiously press against the slope of your jaw. “Don’t stop.” You sighed.

Swallowing the lump of anxiousness within his throat, Jacaerys did not deliberate, attempting to shed himself of his hesitancy. Each kiss was exploratory, soft lips peppering themselves toward the column of your throat.

He continued to knead and toy with your breast, savoring the sensation of silky flesh within his palm, digits flicking over your nipple. Your hand raked through his curls, absentmindedly tugging until it evoked a groan from his mouth.

Warm, molten heat coalesced between your thighs, slick against your core as you rocked yourself against his growing erection. Jacaerys gasped, lips nearly faltering, but he didn’t want to tear himself away from you so soon.

His kisses became fervent, hot against your flesh as he kissed his way across your throat, seeking your collarbone. Your unattended breast did not lack the attention for long, as he kneaded into your chest with a passionate need.

“Use your mouth.” You instructed, voice teetering along the fine edge of breathlessness, teeth grazing across your lower lip. Jacaerys peered at you, visage flushed with pink, earthy hues flickering toward your breasts.

Jacaerys obeyed, mouth making a trail toward your chest, holding you aloft. Curious lips peppered themselves over your breast, shuddering at the sensation of your nails gently raking over his scalp. “Here?”

You nodded, unable to pry your eyes away from him as he took one of your breasts into his mouth, teeth grazing soft flesh, sucking at your nipple. A wanton moan tore past your lips, such a cry causing his grasp to tighten, your back arching into him.

“Perfect,” Sweetly-spoken praises drifted throughout his chambers, hips incessantly grinding themselves against his clothed tent. Jacaerys nearly moaned in-tandem with you, kissing your chest with gallantry, attempting to stave off his burning arousal. “Do you enjoy that?”

Feigning ignorance as to not give you an edge, Jacaerys looked to you, flushed countenance betraying the words coming out of his mouth. “Enjoy what?” He inquired, hoping to distract you by craning upwards for a kiss.

“This,” Perplexed, you rocked your hips forward again, your cunt brushing against the tent in his breeches. Jace very nearly collapsed beneath your gesture, dark brows furrowing together. “Does it feel pleasurable?”

Jacaerys hesitated, terrified of reaching his peak and ending things prematurely. “Yes,” He panted, throat swimming with a certain thickness. “Gods, I need you — you can’t continue like this.” He pleaded, somewhat sheepish. “I do not wish for it to end so soon.”

Planting a kiss against your betrothed’s brow, you cocked your head to one side. “Nothing has to end once you’ve reached your peak, Jace,” He reveled in your use of his nickname. “There is plenty left to do.”

Filled with a semblance of relief, your intended traced his hands along your sides, feeling along your body. “What would you want me to do?” Eagerness crept into his voice, something you greatly appreciated.

“Kiss me between my legs,” You suggested, watching the scarlet pallor flourish within his cheeks, spreading toward his throat. “Touch me, if it pleases you.” As if to accentuate your statement, you grinded against him again, eliciting a husky moan from the depths of his throat.

Dragging his hand toward the apex of your thighs, he peered at you for tutelage, guidance on where exactly to touch you. Wordlessly, your hand slipped to his wrist, coaxing his digits to your slick cunt, noticing the blush on his features.

Admittedly, you were just as feverishly hot, lips parting slightly as he began to explore, concentrating on your satisfaction. Two fingers parted your petals, seeking to stroke along your slit. It evoked a soft gasp from you, hips careening into the subtle gesture.

“There?” Jacaerys questioned, digits creeping upward until they softly rolled around your clit, stimulating that electric clutch of nerves. You moaned, and it seemed to offer him some answers. “Is that what you want?” He whispered, octave sultry in its resonance.

His words made you smitten, yet you nodded in response, watching as he began to find his confidence. Letting your palms drift toward his abdomen, your back arched as he began to toy with your clit, reveling in the pleasure scrawled across your countenance.

His perfect lips consumed your whimpers, swallowing them whole in the embrace of his mouth. Jacaerys kissed you hard, lips dancing in such a heated entanglement, yet his digits never ceased their movements.

Eager digits preened through his dark tresses, one fist gripping at the nape of his neck. Your other hand sought to find the waist of his trousers, tugging at the strings until they loosened altogether. His visage appeared bewildered, as if he didn’t expect it, yet he didn’t want you to stop.

A whine tore through your throat as he circled your clit with a clumsy inexperience, yet you wouldn’t fault him for it. Jacaerys exerted more effort into learning alone than your previous paramour ever had, and you had nothing but gratitude in your heart.

Jacaerys’s fingers graced places where he knew he could hear you — evoke a myriad of disgraceful noises from your tongue, a maiden of desire. He found his pace inevitably, digits sinking along your weeping cunt before gracing your clit again.

This repetitive pattern made your thighs twitch, perspiration glittering along your brow as you brazenly loosened your betrothed’s underclothes. “I want to touch you,” You whispered near the shell of his ear. “I would not neglect you so.”

With a shiver of anticipation, those dilated, earthy hues of his silently pleaded with you to do whatever you wanted — Seven Hells, he would never belong to another. He was yours, imploding upon himself with your touch and tender gaze alone.

He nodded, pink and compliant, assisting you with maneuvering his breeches aside enough for you to free his cock. Jacaerys was embarrassed at how eager he’d become from this alone, length glistening with a sheen of precum.

Jacaerys did not allow his hand to still completely, lazily tracing his digits across your cunt, shivering whenever your soft palm encircled his length. The contact elicited a breathless groan from his mouth, unable to conceal the wave of excitement that flooded through him.

The tender clash of your lips sent a rush of warmth through you, coalescing between your thighs, heat stirred by the presence of Jacaerys’s fingers. Ensuring a sluggish pace, your hand stroked along your lover’s cock, thumb brushing over the head.

His stomach felt unnaturally tight, a coil of festering heat that slowly unraveled itself. “Gods, you are incredible.” Jacaerys huffed against your lips, voice nearly tapering off into a low whine when you began to kiss his jaw.

Pleasure was mutually exchanged, touching one another in-tandem, bodies beginning to glisten with a sheen of perspiration. It was your lips that lingered against his neck, showering his sweet skin in an untold amount of feather-light kisses.

Flushed with embarrassment, he felt the occasional jolt of his hips as he thrust into your hand, cock throbbing with an overwhelming bliss.

Jacaerys felt trapped within some lust-ridden haze, focus unsteady and sluggish. A soft, simpering moan resonated from you, drifting beside his ear, taking residence within his mind.

A cacophony of crass noises emanated throughout the walls of his chambers — breathy sighs intermingled with wanton moans, the exchange of flesh for fantasy. Soft lips peppered themselves along his freckled shoulder.

Never faltering in your ministrations, your hand continued to stroke along his cock, pace developing into something evocative. Jacaerys groaned, eyes half-lidded, pliant mouth parted as a string of satisfied sighs escaped him.

The simmering flame of desire burned brightly within the pit of your stomach, his digits continuing to stroke along your cunt. A cry of delight tore past your lips, nails lightly digging into his shoulder.

Embarrassment rippled through him whenever he happened to moan, flushed like a ripe peach. His ministrations were passionate, done in a flurry of desperation and excitement. “I … I —” Jacaerys groaned.

“Jace,” You panted, gooseflesh raking across your spine as you rocked your hips forward, seeking any shred of friction. “Gods, I need you.” The words nearly bit his heart into two, oozing crimson desire and want.

“You have me,” Jacaerys insisted through a strained sigh, a solemn promise through pleasured groans. His hips jolted again, cock desperately sliding against your palm, begging for anything you offered to him. “Seven Hells!” He groaned.

Pleasure mounted, swirling within him like a tumultuous wave, one that he seldom experienced. Digits began to still within you, losing their rhythm, abandoning it for something erratic. He chased after his encroaching release, coil beginning to unfurl within his stomach.

Another kiss invited his own demise as you sought sanctuary within his mouth, pliant lips tangling with one another. Your hand continued to drag itself along his cock, thumb idly flicking over the head of his length, bleeding warmth.

Your nerves burned with desire, every fiber of your being consumed by Jacaerys’s presence. You hadn’t felt such a kindly touch before — even your last spark did not bother to learn.

As Jace’s head began to tilt backward, his lips barely graced the curve of your jaw before he came, sudden and white-hot. His spend fell in hot tendrils against your palm, falling to his stomach in a glistening sheen.

He did not expect to come undone so swiftly, but it was the first time you had touched him in such an amorous manner. Half-lidded and dazed, Jacaerys attempted to recuperate, reaching to cup your cheek.

“Forgive me, I did not think to warn you,” He huffed, chest stinging with heat as he fought to breathe deeply again. “That was …” Words turned to ash upon his tongue, features painted with a delicate shade of crimson.

“Invigorated by the moment,” You mused, pressing a kiss against his cheek before crawling off of him, moving toward the basin of water on his vanity. “For one without experience, you do not act clueless.”

Retrieving a rag, you prepared to return to him — but he was at your heels. “Jacaerys?” The very picture of longing, looming beside you as his hand graced the curve of your breast, caressing towards your stomach.

“I want to taste you,” He rasped, his gaze practically begging for you to let him. Gently, he plucked the rag from your fingertips, cleaning himself off with haste. “Please.” Jacaerys groaned.

It was as if the fire within your belly burned thrice as hot, demanding to be extinguished with all its might. Your lips parted, fingers curling into the wood of his vanity as you pressed your thighs together.

Jacaerys’s lips descended upon yours in an ardor-laced frenzy, a groan stirring within his throat, hands immediately seizing your hips. Instinct drove him, desire renewed, as bright as your own flame.

You did not hesitate, reaching for him with a swiftness, digits tangling within his dark curls. He was a godly sight, laces of his trousers undone, visage flushed, earthy hues nearly black with desire. He hadn’t felt so strongly about someone before, anchored to you.

One could not mistake his passion for roughness — Jacaerys was gallant, a man of honor, and you suspected that being rough was not in his interest. Each clash of your lips left you reeling, dizzy with affection, flesh crawling with heat.

“I need you, so terribly,” Jacaerys whispered, filling you with a euphoric sentiment. Desperation crept into his voice, a resonance that was laced with yearning, a craving. “May I?” He was needlessly polite.

Wordlessly, your head bobbed up and down in a series of swift nods, teeth snagging on the inner skin of your cheek. He reciprocated with a kiss against your shoulder, and then to your collarbone, forging a path with his mouth.

Jacaerys only wished to map your flesh, to trace each curve as if you were a winding river — a river worth wading. His softened fingertips incessantly squeezed at your hips, gliding downward to seize handfuls of your haunches.

Each kiss brought forth a glow from you, interwoven with a myriad of throaty whines and whimpers. His confidence only blossomed from there, instilling a sense of pride within him as he kissed between your breasts.

“Jacaerys,” A sharp inhale ripped through your throat as he made his sluggish descent, savoring every inch of your body, skin like velvet beneath his tongue. “Do not torment me.” You hissed, aching for the embrace of his mouth.

It was you that dominated the current tension between you both, reaching for his crown of curls as you eased him downwards. Jacaerys obeyed, sinking onto his knees at your subtle instruction, kissing at your stomach.

He was at your mercy, peering up at you through thick lashes and flushed features, allowing you to take the initiative. You most certainly did, sluggishly guiding him toward your glistening cunt.

There was nothing he wanted more in this world than to oblige you, lips pressing all along your legs, mouth steadily finding the apex of your thighs. Jacaerys took care in spreading you apart, tongue raking hot embers across your cunt, your taste ambrosial.

A stirring fire of lust roused him, cock twitching within his breeches as he delved deeper into your core. His mouth was a thing of beauty, tongue sluggishly tasting you from your clit to your entrance.

Your chest heaved with wanton pants, hand forming a fist within his tresses, involuntarily tugging and pulling as you pleased. Jacaerys did not mind it at all, desperate to please you.

Tangled within his dark mane, you coaxed him closer, digits digging at the base of his skull. Jacaerys released a groan into your core, hands clamping down on your thighs with an ironclad grasp. Your nectar fell heavy upon his tongue, the sweetest of honey.

Jacaerys thoroughly delighted in the feeling of your hands within his hair, your hips occasionally stuttering and bucking forward, desperately seeking his mouth.

He was attentive, even for being a novice at the act itself, lapping at your cunt with a fervor. His plush lips drifted toward your clit, gauging your reaction to the sensation. You moaned, and that only seemed to encourage him.

With slow, eager laps of his tongue, Jacaerys made sure to savor you, letting it flick across your clit. The short, dizzying gasp that tore past your mouth spurred him on, as he pressed another string of kisses against your slit.

The continued sensation of your digits carding through his curls made him sigh with elation. “Jacaerys,” You whimpered, dizzying moans spurring him on. “Gods, you’re doing so well, so perfect.”

The lascivious praise he received made him groan into your cunt, desperate for you to shower him in compliments. He flourished with your sweet words, comely visage happily buried between your thighs.

His eagerness was palpable through each flick of his tongue, lost within the oasis between your legs. Your thighs burned, desire making you hazy, mind clouded with nothing but him.

A myriad of soft whimpers and whines escaped you, hand gingerly tugging on Jace’s hair as he showered your cunt in an alternation of steady licks to lingering ones.

The short, dizzying gasp that tore past your mouth spurred him on, as he pressed another string of kisses against your slit. It was overwhelming, the stimulation — you very nearly collapsed.

Instead, your euphoria manifested as your climax, sudden and without pause, a rush of heat that spilled forth. Jacaerys groaned, continuing to lap at your cunt as if he were drunk upon it, prompting you to peel him off of you.

The sight of your betrothed on his knees before you, panting with exhilaration, chin glistening with your slick — it was a sight that you wanted to see again and again.

“That was incredible,” Careening your digits through the top of his scalp, Jace moved into your embrace, angling his face to kiss your palm. “You did wonderful — are you certain that this is new for you?” You mused.

Jacaerys blushed, yet held firm on his honesty. “It isn’t new anymore,” He chimed, wishing that he could have you like this all the time. “I wish to please you again, if you’ll let me. Tomorrow, perhaps?”

With a cheshire smile, you coaxed him up from the ground, pressing a string of kisses all along his collarbone and neck. He seemed quite pleased with it, holding you closer.

“Tomorrow.” You sighed into his skin, wordlessly guiding him to bed. You wanted to lay with him, learn his heart, more than you already had. As you settled beside him, he appeared beyond elated. “But there is still tonight left.”

[ceruark]

yan! hsr x willing! reader headcanons

yan! aventurine, boothill, kafka, sunday [separate] x willing! gn! reader words: 1,017 requested by: @canigotosleep--plz (original request attached at end of post) cw: yandere themes: obsession, stalking, abduction a/n: thank you so much for the ask! i might do more later, but here's what i wrote for now :>

Aventurine

How interesting that you’ve decided to turn his infatuation with you into a mutually beneficial transaction.

He knows that at this point you’ve realized he’s stalking you, and yet you’ve done absolutely nothing to stop it. You don’t try to shake him off your trail when he strides just a few paces behind you when you’re outside, and you haven’t tried to look for and destroy the cameras or hidden microphones that you must have figured out are in your home. 

No, instead you speak more openly about things you want, and what you would expect from your future partner. Your friends and family think it’s just you being a hopeless romantic, but Aventurine knows better. These signals are meant for him, and he’s more than happy to indulge you. You receive gifts of the highest quality that, in the past, you could only dream of owning— and in the meantime, he’s paying to have your dream home constructed.

When he finally shows up on your doorstep to “abduct” you, you’re more than happy to pack the belongings you’d like to bring with you into a suitcase and follow him into a luxury car that you’re pretty sure isn’t even on the public market yet. 

You never kick up a fuss with him, not even when he’s far clingier and possessive than anyone in a healthy relationship should be. You have a gorgeous boyfriend who showers you with affection, provides for you, and gives you whatever you want, whenever you want it— what could you possibly complain about?

He’s content with how things are. Some might say you’re just using him, but he doesn’t mind. If you are just playing a part, you play it well, and he’s more than happy to reward you for it.

Boothill

He might be more concerned with his own behavior if he wasn’t so worried about your reaction to it.

You’re fine with someone following you around and watching over you? You want to leave behind your boring, mundane life and not have to worry about making a living for yourself?

Your mindset makes him paranoid and makes him far more protective: would you react like this with anyone who showed this kind of sick, twisted interest in you? It gives him all the more reason to take you away and keep you by his side— he has to do it before someone else does. You’re so vulnerable and naive, and he doesn’t trust anyone but himself to be with you.

It’s smooth sailing after the not-really-an-abduction, though. You’ve always wanted to see what exists beyond the starry sky of your small hometown, and he’s always on the run, so there’s plenty of places for you two to explore together. He might not ever be able to settle down with you, but you’ve found you much prefer the whirlwind life with your sweetheart cowboy, anyway.

Your willingness scares him, but it doesn’t matter. As long as he’s the one looking after you, you’ve both got nothing to worry about.

Kafka

Oh, what a sweet little thing you are for her.

Truth be told, she was fully prepared to take you by force— she is one of the most feared people in the cosmos, after all. You were going to come with her, whether you liked it or not. She didn’t care if you cried, screamed, and fought her every step of the way; people can be picked apart and remolded, and manipulation is second nature to her.

But surrendering yourself so easily just saves her the time and hassle, and you will certainly be rewarded for it. The most lavish gifts you can imagine are handed to you, and when she’s not taking care of a mission Elio has assigned to her, she’s taking you to the nicest places in every corner of the cosmos. She loves showing you off, and she won’t settle for anything less than the best for you.

She’s honestly not surprised that you’re willing to go with her. She’d watched you for sometime, and she’d seen how miserable you’d been working so hard to provide for yourself and just barely getting by. There’s no need for that anymore, and she’s so glad you both agree that she’s what’s best for you. Just lay your head in her lap and be good for her— she’ll take care of the rest.

Sunday

He’s overjoyed that you see things his way without him having to use the Harmony.

You’d noticed he’d been stalking you. Careful as he was, it’s difficult not to pick up on the fact that you’re “coincidentally” running into someone a bit too frequently. Yet, you did nothing to stop it or discourage it. You had the attention of the most powerful and handsome man in Penacony— why would you complain about that?

Waking up in an unimaginably plush bed within Dewlight Pavilion does throw you off a bit, though. One moment you were chatting with Sunday over drinks at the Dreamjolt Holstery, feeling a bit sleepy, and the next thing you know, you’re here.

You are upset with him when he explains himself and why he’s brought you here, but not at all for the reason he’d been expecting. He could have just asked, honestly. And quite frankly, you’re a bit offended he didn’t even bother to properly court you before taking you away and making you live with him. Isn’t that, like, kind of indecent?

Once he recognizes your willingness, though, he’s relieved. There’s no need to pout any longer, dear. Of course he’ll court you properly now that he’s got you somewhere he knows you’ll be safe and sound. Should you need or want anything, just name it, and your designated attendants will have it for you in an instant. Any minute of his time not spent taking care of Penacony is spent on you, holding you close and indulging your every whim.

Others might be devastated about being locked up, but you’re more than content with the gilded cage you’ve been provided, and you’ve taken quite the liking to your keeper.

Original Request:

[bg-brainrot]

Unraveling Plan Meet Immeasurable Insecurity (Astarion x GN!Tav)

Featuring: Astarion x Rogue!Tav

Series: Fits into Love at First Knife, AO3 link here

Rating: Teen

Summary: Tav tries their damnedest to propose, only to be rebuffed by Astarion at every single turn.

Tags: Astarion POV - alternating w/Rogue!Tav, POV Second Person, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Fluff, Spawn Astarion, Post-Canon, Marriage Proposal, Mild Hurt/Comfort, insecurities

A/N: based on a request from a kind anon on Tumblr– "Would you ever consider writing a one-shot where Tav tries to propose to Astarion but keeps failing multiple times. But Tav doesn’t give up and raises the stakes higher and higher. Astarion will completely remain oblivious because he still has some self esteem issues (why would anyone want to marry him?) and is really confused why Tav is acting nervous around him."

I ended up taking it in a slightly different direction (based on the man’s self esteem issues as you pointed out, anon). Set an undetermined amount of years post BG3, post saving Karlach from Zariel, post-Lae’zel finishing the githyanki uprising so the gang's all here. I hope the kind anon still enjoys it!

Word count: ~5.6k

Astarion first has an inkling that something is the matter when you sneak away from him.

Odd, he thinks, watching your retreating back. Usually they invite me along for this sort of skulking about.

But he understands, better than most, what a bit of privacy could afford someone who hasn’t had any in so long. So he watches you leave, pretending all the while that he hasn’t noticed a thing. Best not embarrass them, of course.

He brushes off the incident as an anomaly– after all, you continue to be your usual self upon your return. Neither of you speak of your absence, and you seem rather pleased with yourself, so he is pleased for you.

The next time he notices something is off he grows a tad more worried.

This time you don’t disappear, but you do spend a concerning amount of time staring at his hands, expression pensive.

“Darling,” he starts. He quickly tucks his hands under the Elfsong table that you both sit at and leans forward. “What are you doing?”

You blanch at the question– an uncharacteristic reaction to be sure. “Oh,” you sound startled, as if you’ve been caught doing something quite naughty. “Nothing at all. Just wondering if you’d done anything new with your nails? They look… nice.”

It’s a lie, that much is clear to Astarion. But it’s not typical that you lie so poorly. And why should you lie? No matter, you look flustered and gods does he love it when you look flustered– it happens so rarely that he feels the need to truly relish it. “Don’t they?” he asks, flourishing his hands in front of you now. “How did you know? I dipped them in an essence of ooze to thoroughly moisturize them.”

“Really?” Your bewilderment almost brings a laugh out of him.

“Gods no, my dear,” he says, reaching out from under the table and for your hands. “You seem quite out of sorts. Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” you dismiss, staunchly avoiding eye contact with him.

Odd, he thinks again. Where is their usual daring now?

He’s forced to dismiss the thought as you flag down a waitress, ordering yourselves another bottle of wine.

Astarion becomes genuinely concerned when you return home late one night.

The two of you have grown comfortable together in your house, just on the outskirts of Baldur’s Gate, in a cozy corner of Rivington. The location allows you to continue your work with the guild, gives him plentiful access to any criminals that needed exsanguinating, and your former companions are never far.

It does mean that you will sometimes stay late in the city, working well into the sunlight hours– but you also know to send him a message on the days you stay out late. Otherwise your poor, beautiful vampire will waste away in worry.

“Where in the nine hells are they?” Astarion curses aloud on this particular dawning day. He’d tried sending a message to you, only to receive nothing back. He’d sent another to Shadowheart, again to silence. He considers trying someone less responsible like Karlach, when you finally burst through the front door.

“Oh! Astarion,” you say, surprise plain on your face. As if he wouldn’t be here, in your shared home no less, waiting for your arrival. “What are you still doing up?”

He watches you silently for a moment as you tuck something behind your back, straighten out uncomfortably. Then, with all of the annoyance he can muster, he rolls his eyes at you. “It’s lovely to see you too, my dear. It’s not as if I was worrying my gorgeous head off at the thought of you dead in some rank Baldurian gutter.”

“I’m sorry,” you say, shuffling around the room in a rather suspicious manner. “I lost track of time. I figured you would go to bed without me.”

Astarion can’t remember the last time he went to bed without at least knowing where you were. Even if he could, he suspects he really would rather not. “Darling, you know I need my warm-blooded lover by my side to enter my reverie. Besides, what could have possibly taken you so long?”

You hesitate, and something tugs at Astarion’s insides. He feels a sudden sense of fear, a dread that he may regret asking you this question. 

What if you’re upset at him, and this was your way to maintain space? What if you’ve finally, rationally taken a look at your situation and determined that no, you’d really rather not love a monster like himself? Or worse, what if you’d found someone else, someone who could bask in the daylight alongside you? Gods, the idea sends his undead heart plummeting.

Just as you’re about to open your mouth to answer, he rescinds his question, “Nevermind. I don’t want to know. I merely wanted to make sure you were alive. You’re looking as sprightly as ever, so I shall head to bed.”

He doesn’t wait for your response, heading to bed in a dramatic swirl and even more sensational thoughts. 

He’s right, he knows it to his core. You’ve found someone else, someone who can give you the life he never could. More than anything he wishes he had the courage to confront you, especially as all of your odd behavior clicks into place.

They snuck off to find a lover.

They were staring at my hands in the hopes that they were someone else’s.

They stayed out late to relish in another’s company.

They’re aloof because they’re leaving me and it’s all a matter of time.

It’s as plain as day. How could he have been so very, very blind?

__

You had concocted a nice, simple plan.

It involved a ring, a smattering of your closest friends, and a particularly prickly vampire. Ideally, the plan ended with the vampire agreeing to marry you.

Gods. The idea thrills you as much as it scares you: you are actually going to propose to Astarion.

After years together, you and Astarion are practically already married. This is merely a formality in your mind. But of course, for a man like Astarion, it's a formality that means only the utmost effort must be put in.

But, as it always goes in your life, your nice, simple fell apart.

The problem you're finding is that, after weeks of preparation and secretive planning, the man is being oddly distant. Distant and dismissive. It's almost as if he knows something is afoot, and he's utterly determined to make sure it doesn't happen.

Five times now he has thwarted your attempts at a proposal.

"Astarion," you had started the first time. "Would you like to take a walk in the park with me tonight?”

The look he’d given you was equal parts wary and panicked. So much so that you thought maybe you’d misspoken. But his response was measured enough. “No, thank you, darling. I’m afraid I’m quite spent today.” He gave you a yawn to illustrate his point, and you dropped the subject for the night.

You had had to send a message to Shadowheart to call off the trail of poisonous flowers that your friends were laying out for your stroll.

The next time, you had tried being a bit more casual in your attempt.

“Would you enjoy a day at the spa, Astarion?”

Again, he gave you a look that confused you. Frightened face, hackles raised– his only response was, “Why, darling, do I look that ghastly to you?”

“You know that’s not what I–”

“No matter,” he’d waved you off. “I am afraid I’m busy today.”

You’d sent a message to Karlach, telling her that the reservation of Baldur’s Gate’s spa was no longer needed.

The third time, you’d called in some more magical help.

“Astarion, what do you say to a moonlit picnic atop the roof of the Elfsong? We haven’t had one in a while.”

Appalled– utterly and truly aghast is the only way to describe the face he’d made. The words that followed didn't make you feel better either. “And why would we do that again after such a long while?”

Your stomach had roiled, worry settling in at his tone. “I thought it would be a chance to reminisce together.” Your tone stayed light, your smile just as friendly.

“It’s far too cold to bother with reminiscing,” he’d said, glowering at you. Looking at the hard set of his jaw, this is when you’d begun to worry that you’d done something to upset him.

“Is everything alright?” you’d asked, reaching out for his arm.

“It’s fine,” he’d replied, curtly, retreating from your grasp. “I just don’t want to be colder than I already am.”

You’d sent a message to Gale, instructing him to call off the magical skywriting over the Elfsong.

For your fourth attempt, you knew you needed someone with a slightly more forceful personality– and to perhaps lean a little less romantic.

“Astarion,” you’d begun, inflecting your tone with just the right amount of panic. “Lae’zel’s found a flock of mephits along the beach of Wyrm’s Crossing. She needs our help.”

“Mephits?” he’d asked, looking at you cautiously. “In Wyrm’s Crossing?”

“Yes,” you’d replied, nodding hurriedly. “We need to go now.”

He’d clicked his tongue at you and shaken his head. “As if Lae’zel couldn’t crush them all with a single swing. Seems to me like she’s grown lazy after all of her heroics.”

“Astarion,” you’d chided. “You know she will incredibly cross at us if she finds out you declined to help.”

“I’ll survive,” he’d said, returning to the book on his lap, hands turning paler than usual in a tense vice grip. “Probably.”

After, you’d sent a message to Lae’zel, instructing her to do as she pleased with the stash of fireworks on the beach.

The fifth time you’d grown genuinely, truly worried that something was wrong with Astarion because, by the gods, the man had refused to commit crime with you.

After so many failed attempts, you’d figured that you needed to go back to the roots of your relationship– to a simpler time when petty theft gave you some time alone together.

“I heard a rumor through the guild,” you’d said offhandedly over dinner. “A newly minted noble in the Upper City has quite the horde of wealth and very little security. What do you say that we pay them a visit, perhaps ‘relieve’ them of some of their wealth?”

Astarion had faltered, clearly tempted by your offer. But after nearly two weeks of avoiding going anywhere with you, he didn’t outright agree either. “And why would you need me for this particular job?”

The question had taken you aback. You’d never needed a reason to invite him along for crime of all things. It made you near certain that he knew what you were up to and that something about it was distasteful to him. Sweet hells, it made you nervous. “I, erm… well, I could use an extra pair of hands to carry it all, I suppose?”

“I could lend you my pack then,” he’d said, narrowing his eyes at you.

Why is he trying to avoid me? Have his feelings changed? you’d thought in fear. Aloud, you’d only doubled down. “Well, the company might be nice. And you know that your lockpicking is, somehow, better than mine.”

“I thought you said security was sparse,” he’d countered.

“Sparse doesn’t mean nonexistent.”

“Not much of a challenge then, is it?”

You had wanted to scream into the astral plane. Wanted to flip the table over his pretty pale face. Wanted to tell him, ‘You know what, I didn’t want to marry such a stubborn vampire anyway!’ – but you did none of those things. Because you love this man and, even when he’s being difficult, you do want to marry him.

So you had gritted your teeth and said, “Very well then. I shall borrow your pack.”

You’d sent a message to Wyll later to call off his father’s help with the upper city guards.

For your sixth attempt, you decide you first need to reconvene with your council– also known as your former companions. 

When you’d first met with them at the start of this whole ordeal, you’d snuck away from Astarion. It made you feel a bit guilty, sneaking around, hiding things from him, but the entire proposal was meant to be a fun surprise– one you are starting to suspect is a misguided effort. 

You profess as much aloud now that you’re meeting up with the five of them again, seated around the table in Jaheira’s kitchen. “Maybe there is no sixth attempt. Maybe I’ve overestimated the love between us.”

“Don’t say that,” Wyll says, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder, squeezing softly in reassurance. “Your love is strong. And together we will find a way to make this proposal work.”

You smile up at the man, one always so willing to believe in the power of a good love story. You’re almost sorry to be disappointing him– and the smut peddlers. Really, you’re sorry to be disappointing all of your friends. Each of your companions had been eager to help you in your endeavor, in their own ways, of course.

Gale had congratulated you prematurely at first, misunderstanding your Sending spell. But when you’d clarified, asked him for his help, he’d only been incredibly enthused, arriving the very next day, offering all manner of suggestions.

Karlach, for her part, was only ever excited, practically bouncing off the walls that two of her best mates may potentially tie the knot. At the low, low price of allowing her to be your person of honor, she was entirely at your disposal.

Lae’zel had been confused initially. In her mind, you were already committed to a life together. What was the purpose of this… proposal? Of marriage? But when you’d explained to her a bit, she’d been curious– and excited at the potential of catching Astarion off guard.

Shadowheart had seemed surprised when you’d asked. You weren’t already married? Alas, she’d gotten the plot of one of the many bawdy novels about you confused with real life. No matter, she was happy to help.

And, well, Wyll– when he returned from Avernus he’d been disappointed that you weren’t at the very least engaged yet. It was no shock or awe to him when you visited him for help. In fact, he had only given you a wry smile and said, “I knew you would be the one to cave.”

As for Jaheira, well, she was allowing you to use her house as a headquarters, but had proclaimed early, “Invite me to the wedding and I shall be there, but until then– well, this is for you lot to figure out.”

And gods were you having trouble figuring it out.

“I don’t know, Wyll. I’m worried Astarion may never revert back to normal at this rate,” you say, shaking your head.

“Was he ever normal?” Shadowheart asks with a soft snort. “Besides, he can be awfully dense at times, you may just need to ask him outright.”

“There is not a single realm in which Astarion says yes to a simple proposal,” you say, brows furrowing. “You know he’d want something flashy.”

Gale raises a finger sagely before countering, “Well, my friend, sometimes what we want and what we need are two different things. I’m inclined to agree that you may just need to pop the question.”

“What if…” you trail off, your worries from the past weeks bogging down your thoughts. Somehow, despite everything you’ve been through, this seems to be your toughest challenge yet. “Do you think he knows what I’m doing and is simply too afraid to reject me?” you ask the group, turning to each of them with pleading eyes. You’re honestly not sure you can take his rejection, especially after the last five rebuffs.

“Not a chance in the hells,” Karlach answers. “I think he’s being a right idiot, actually. And if he knew what was happening, he may even say yes before you can so much as get the question out.”

“Really?” Your mood lightens a bit, her harsh words slashing through the hardened doubts that have settled over your heart. 

“Is it any surprise to us that Astarion is incapable of seeing the truth before him?” Lae’zel says, rolling her eyes. “Such sharp skills, yet completely dull in the face of our efforts.”

“Again, we may just need a softer touch,” Shadowheart suggests, tilting her head at you.

You’re not sure what a softer touch might be, and, from the silence that follows, neither are any of your companions.

Your resident wizard is the first to break the silence. “I could always create a simulacra–”

“Gale,” Wyll interjects, politely. “I’m afraid I don’t think that’s much softer.”

“Right,” Gale says, leaning back in his seat.

Another long moment of silence and you’re truly starting to feel defeated. You hang your head a bit, thoughts filled with the image of a certain beautiful, pale elf’s mouth curling at you in distaste, forming a pronounced ‘no.’

“Soldier,” Karlach starts. You look up to see her smirking at you. “If he won’t willingly join you anywhere. I think we both know what you need to do.”

–

They are going to sink the final nail in the metaphorical coffin.

For nearly two weeks now, Astarion has successfully avoided his lover’s attempts to get together in a public space– likely what they saw was the best, most civil way to dispose of him. But, foolish as it is to cling to something like a withered love, Astarion doesn’t want this relationship to end.

Perhaps, if I can do this for long enough, they will change their mind, he thinks. Gods, that sounds pathetic, even for him.

Astarion was running out of excuses, and, worse yet, running out of willpower. What is the use in fighting the inevitable? he thinks, as he walks down the streets of Baldur’s Gate. It’s a moonlit night, and he’s on the prowl for a criminal to bite– he needs something, anything to distract him from his woes.

He turns the corner, on high alert.

Then again, a more selfish part of him counters. Why shouldn't you fight for your love? They were the first good thing to ever happen to you in this damned world.

That’s when he spots them– the-first-good-thing-to-ever-happen-to-him is hiding behind a bush directly before him, facing another alleyway. There are very few reasons that they would be out at this time of night, in the middle of this particular street of Baldur’s Gate. While they could be on a mission for the guild, he had last seen them at home, reading by the fire. It’s clear that they followed him, are waiting to ambush him.

Is this it? he thinks, eyes narrowing. His chest hurts, more than ought to be possible given his lack of beating heart. Is this how desperate they are to be rid of me? May as well go out with flair, I suppose…

Astarion sneaks forward, careful to remain outside of your field of view. He settles behind you in the darkness of the bush, watching you as you look out for him. Despite the ache in his heart, the clenching of his stomach, he can’t help but think of how lovely you look under the moonlight– of how lucky he has been to have had you.

If this truly is it, he thinks. I can’t wallow or cry. I shall hold my head high and consider myself fortunate to have met them. To have loved them. At least, he hopes he’s capable of such a performance. Because right now, quietly crouched next to you, he wants nothing more than to pull you into his arms, to beg you to reconsider.

But no. He refuses to look pathetic– not after the life he has lived.

So, after waiting with you for a few minutes, he leans forward into your personal space and asks, “Darling, what are you doing?”

Astarion is ready for your instincts to kick in, so when your knife is drawn in a flash and you’re lunging for him, he’s easily dodging backward, holding his hands up in peace. “Now, now darling, I thought we were past the knives at throats.”

“Astarion?” you ask, startled. “Sweet hells, you haven’t snuck up on me like that in years.”

“Yes, well,” he says, avoiding your eyes now. He’s surprised by how much gazing into them has weakened his composure already. “You also haven’t looked so utterly distracted by your own thoughts in years either.”

“What are you doing here?” you ask, ignoring his words. “I thought…”

Yes, dear, what did you think? he wants to ask, to catch you in the act with a cruel moment of revelation, to hurt you as much as you’re about to hurt him. But when he brings his eyes back to yours, he knows he can’t do that. While he’s still capable of maiming, killing, all manner of atrocities– he cannot hurt you. So he only says, “I was out hunting and I saw you hiding in a bush. What are you doing here?”

“I–” you falter, seemingly torn. Perhaps you’re having second thoughts. Perhaps this is his chance to keep you from breaking his cold, crumbling heart.

“Do you need assistance, dear?” he asks, ready and willing to show how much he would do for you. Anything, honestly, if it means you’ll stay by his side.

“Gods, I keep mucking this all up,” you mutter, head hanging in uncharacteristic defeat. “Maybe Shadowheart was right.”

What did that damned cleric do now? Is she the one you’re leaving him for? He’s about to make a reflexive, snide comment about her veritable barnyard of animals, but stops when he sees you sheath your blade. When you wipe a hand over your face in frustration.

Oh. You’re miserable. You wouldn’t look like this normally. You would never be this nervous, this stressed to see him– not unless his very presence had turned toxic. “I should go, shouldn’t I?” he asks, throat tight.

“No!” you say, reaching out a hand to keep him from leaving. Your grip is tight, painful in its panic, but he doesn’t complain. How could he when you look like this? 

More than anything, he wants this worry that lines your face to fade, the jittery movement of your hands to abate. So maybe it’s up to him to spark the beginning of the end… “Did you… have something you wanted to tell me?” he asks, swallowing down the fear that threatens to overwhelm him.

“I…” you gulp, bringing your second hand to join the first, loosening your grip. You raise your head, and he sees the tumult in your gaze. At the very least, you must care about him somewhat to stress yourself this much. “Astarion, please don’t be upset.”

How could he not? But, somehow, he manages a sad smile at you anyway. “As if I could ever be upset with you, my love.”

Then you drop to a knee in front of him.

– 

“Astarion,” you say, voice shaking a bit with nerves. “I had wanted this to be something lovely. Something meaningful. But… I guess you love ruining plans, don’t you?”

“What,” he breathes out, confusion plain on his face. His red eyes dart between yours, as if trying to process a sudden, large shift. You suppose it would be a shift in your relationship, even if you were practically married already. If he even decided to say yes.

You release his arm with one hand, reaching into your side pouch for the small square box that’s waiting for you. Fingers less dexterous than usual, you fumble over clutching it, opening it single handedly. You’re not used to looking this foolish, and you can feel a heat over your cheeks, an anxious shake to your movements.

But before too long the box is open, a shining platinum band resting inside.

It looks like everything you’d hoped for in the moment– its inlaid red rubies catch the moonlight just beautifully. You’d spent weeks agonizing, wondering if you had picked the right one, imagining what it might look like were it to be placed on his perfect pale finger. Here and now, with this man standing before you, you know it would look exquisite.

“Astarion,” you start again, courage returning to you with that knowledge, some of the words you’d prepared coming back to your mind. “These past years together have been the best years of my life. You’re my best friend, my dual blade, and I love you more than I can even say. I don’t know what our future holds, but I would consider myself lucky to walk towards it with you at my side. So…” You pull the ring from the box, holding it up to the man you love with a smile. “Would you, Astarion Ancunín, do me the honor of marrying me?”

Astarion Ancunín, despite years of quick quips and sultry words, seems to be frozen in place, unable to speak.

You’re used to these moments, when he needs to process, but you’re not used to them when you’re on one knee, waiting for a response. “Astarion?” you hazard.

“You’re…” he says, face slack, mouth barely moving. “You’re proposing to me?”

It’s not a no, but it’s certainly not the reaction you’d be hoping for. “Erm, yes. Is that… distasteful to you?” You can feel your hand recoil somewhat, your smile slip.

His expression remains blank, lips slightly agape as he continues to take in the scene before him. “You– you don’t have a new lover? You’re not planning to leave me?”

“What?” Now it’s your turn to be flabbergasted. “Astarion, what are you talking about?”

The sigh that leaves him then could collapse a small house. “Sweet hells,” he says, face and body relaxing. “I thought… I thought that you were acting odd, like– like–”

“Like I was trying to surprise you with the magnificent proposal you deserve?” you respond, suddenly understanding his behavior and growing a smidge annoyed. “Like I didn’t want to propose to you behind some damned bushes?”

Astarion looks around, as if just now realizing where you are, what is happening. “Yes, now that you mention it, like that.”

You want to be upset, but then the man above you laughs. It’s light, breathy, and utterly relieved. “You were really worried, weren’t you?”

“Oh my sweet love, I was about ready to jump into an Oubliette,” he says, shaking his head ruefully.

“You thought I would leave you, just like that?” you ask, brows furrowing in concern. Maybe you should have just proposed in your living room.

“I wouldn’t blame you,” he says, looking down at you with a tinge of sadness in his smile. “I doubt that this was the life you were looking for, darling. As a matter of fact, are you… sure about this?” He eyes the ring in your hand, all but forgotten in his confusion.

You proffer it again, raising your hand a bit higher this time. “The only life I’m looking for is the one with you in it, Astarion. I am quite sure.”

His scarlet eyes dart between yours questioningly, and you merely stare back, staunch in your words and intent. “Even if I’m a fool that forced your hand– left you kneeling in the dirt?”

“We’ve done worse things on dirt, Astarion,” you say, smiling widening at the memory of the first time he’d told you he loved you. “If you’d like me to get out of the dirt though, you could answer my question: Would you marry me?”

__

Once more, he looks between your eyes, this time his are wide, open– daring to believe that his darkest fears are just that. Fears. Ones that you would vanquish without a second thought. How could he have been so blind to that. Moisture pools at the corner of his eyes at the realization.

So he drops to his knees, reaching for your face with his hands. In a single movement, he’s pulled you toward him, captured your lips with his with an undeniable longing. A longing to hold you in his hands for as long as he is able. A longing to taste your lips on his, each and every day. A longing to never be without you, to be yours until death do you part.

You respond to his kiss in kind, lips pressing against him with your own pent up longing. He distantly hears the ring’s box fall to the floor, feels your hand brush past his ear to clutch his hair. You kiss him like he’s the answer to every question you’ve ever had and he feels a small tear run down his face as his eyes squeeze tightly shut.

Gods he would never tire of kissing you.

I ought to respond, he thinks in the back of his head, as he moves his lips against yours.

Is this not response enough? he argues, not wanting to break apart from you, for even a moment.

No, it wouldn’t do to have any confusion, not after the past two weeks.

So, before he can forget himself, he pulls back from you, far enough to look into your eyes. “That was a ‘yes’ in case that wasn’t evident.”

You laugh, short and breathless. “Oh good,” you say, leaning back further and bringing up the ring between you. “Then may I?”

Astarion removes his left hand from your face, holds it out to you with a large, gleeful smile. “You may.”

You slip the ring onto his finger. It fits well, matches his eyes, looks positively sumptuous– as always, you know him too well. “It’s stunning,” he says, angling it one way then another.

“I’m glad you like it,” you say, smiling at the sight. “And that you didn’t catch me when I tried to sneak it past you.”

The vampire laughs, shaking his head free of his own silly thoughts. “I smashed your plans into tiny little pieces, didn’t I?”

You don’t say yes, but the look on your face is evidence enough. “I’ll tell you all about what you missed out on later. For now, we should, erm, go get our friends.”

“Go get our friends?” he asks, wondering what in the hells they have to do with all of this.

“Yes,” you say, planting a kiss on his hand before moving to get up. “They’re all in place for another one of these ill fated plans.”

“Ah,” he says, following you up. Then, realizing what you’ve said, he looks at you with concern. “Just what were you in this bush for?”

To your credit, you look abashed. But your words do nothing to lessen his concern. “Seeing as you were refusing to come with me, well, anywhere, we had to pivot our strategy.”

“Darling,” he starts, his tone a deceptive sweetness. “Whatever does that mean?”

“It was Karlach’s plan,” you say, as a means of explanation.

“Oh good. I’m sure whatever it was was perfectly sane then.”

Scratching at the back of your neck, you finally admit the plan, “I was going to give them a signal when you passed. Gale was going to make an illusory double of me getting kidnapped by the rest of them in disguise, then hopefully you would take chase to go save me, they would lose you just as you got to the Elfsong where I would be waiting…”

Astarion looks at you sharply, his mouth a disapproving line. “Really?”

“In retrospect, I can see the flaws in the plan,” you say, palms open. “But in my defense, I was getting desperate. Either way, we ought to go get them. Karlach seemed just about ready to explode from hiding that long.”

“Fine,” he says reluctantly. “This is what we get for having such imbeciles for friends.”

“Funny,” you start, holding out a hand to him. “They said the same about you.”

He takes your hand with an exaggerated eye roll, but can’t help the smile that comes over his face at the feeling of your fingers twining with his. “It’s a shame you had to resort to them for help.”

“I really needed it. You know, I have killed more people than I can count, but you have been my most challenging mark by far,” you say, dramatically as you begin to walk down the alleyway.

“Worse than the giant, world-ending brain?”

“Oh yes.”

The two of you walk in silence for a few steps before Astarion feels compelled to say one last thing before reaching your friends. “Darling, I truly am sorry I ruined all of your plans, but I must ask: Please don’t try to surprise me like this again.”

The expression on your face deflates a little, and you say, “I thought you would like something grand?”

He brings your hand up to his lips for a soft, reassuring peck. “Normally, yes. But, I love you so very much. I’m afraid it clouds my usually impeccable judgment.”

You don’t comment on his judgment, instead focusing on his proclamation of love. “I love you too. So, hopefully, there isn’t a second proposal.”

“One can only hope,” Astarion says with a laugh. “And, if there is, perhaps it’s my turn to do the proposing?”

“Love, if you surprise me, I may kill you,” you say, plainly.

“A risk I’ve always been willing to take, my dear,” the man replies, pulling on your hand. “Now, come. I think I can spot Wyll’s peeking eye from here.”

Hand-in-hand, the two of you walk toward your waiting friends, ready to tell them the good news.

It wasn’t the grand proposal you had envisioned. Nor was it even a particularly romantic one. But, somehow, it was still perfect, still loving, still the beautiful new beginning to the rest of your lives together.

[it-happened-one-fic]

Gluttony - Leona

Author Notes: It was actually really difficult to choose what I was going to post this week. But I've been a little busy lately, so I finally just chose this one rather than working on polishing some of my other fics. I wrote this one to the song "Too Sweet" by Hozier and that most certainly showed in the writing. With that said though, I'm pretty pleased with how this fic turned out. As per usual, reader is gender-neutral. I hope you enjoy!

Type: Gender neutral reader/ fluff/ some angst with comfort/ romance implied/ some pining/ sfw

Word count: 1528

Leona opened his eyes groggily, a frown on his face, as soon as the sun shone down through the leaves of the tree that hung over him, briefly blinding him before he sat up.

A hum from his left had his ears twitching before he twisted to see you lying right by his side. A slight smile on your face as the shadows of the leaves swayed across your form, and he felt his eyebrows raise.

He wasn’t particularly surprised to see you, though he knew the same couldn’t be said for anyone who might have seen you here.

Leona was no fool. He knew that you and him were pretty much perfect opposites. That’s why everyone always looked so confused when you were walking along beside him. Chattering away with a happy expression or teasing him about something that had recently gone in a way he hadn’t planned for it to.

Leona was the hated second prince. It was his burden, and it was one he’d carried his entire life. It was nothing new.

He was bitter, unpleasant, and something that people preferred to avoid either out of fear or powerful levels of distaste.

And then there was you. Sweet and far more optimistic than he thought he could ever be. And perhaps more interestingly, you were no fool. You knew everything wasn’t flowers and dreams. How could you not when you lived in a place like Ramshackle dorm and didn’t even have a way to get home? 

You were seemingly trapped in a world that wasn’t your own, but you didn’t let that stop you. Instead, you just keep going with your head held high, a smile on your face, and a laugh on your lips as you shrugged it off. It was admirable.

But it also simply wasn’t him. And that was something he knew perfectly well.

That simple fact was also the exact reason your classmates would find it so odd to see you slumbering here by his side and not somewhere else with someone who was a better match for your sweet disposition.

Leona leaned forward, propping his head on his chin as he looked down at where you slept by his side. You’d come here to study in the botanical garden while he’d slumbered next to you. It was something you often did, though he couldn’t fathom why.

It was almost like you either wanted the company or didn’t want him to be lonely. Either of which was ridiculous, since he could think of plenty of people who’d want to be your study buddy, and he certainly didn't want company for his naps.

But then, Leona also didn’t mind your presence, though he had his own reasons for not running you off.

Leona tilted his head slightly, sighing at the sight of you, before pulling the book whose corner was jabbing into your side out of your hands and setting it off to the side where you’d quickly find it after waking up.

He idly scanned the area, half rolling his eyes as he confirmed that your feline companion was nowhere to be seen.

Grim had no doubt long since abandoned you in favor of avoiding anything even close to work.

As for you, Leona didn’t know if you were foolish or bold to have fallen asleep right next to him with no one around to protect you. But here you were curled up at his side, as if he weren’t someone who could easily harm you and were instead someone who would take care of you should you need it.

Which wasn’t something he could really deny to himself, but you didn’t need to know that.

After all, you’d seen him when he’d overblotted and you knew he wasn’t a good person. That should have been enough to send you scrambling to get away from him. But instead, here you were. 

And it was ridiculous.

It was true that it might have taken Jack a little while to realize that Leona wasn’t someone he needed to look up to, but Leona’s actions at the Spelldrive competition had cleared up Jack’s misunderstandings about him. 

Ruggie had always known what sort of person Leona was. It was one of the reasons he hung around. After all, there was safety in sticking close to people like Leona, so long as you remembered what they were truly like.

Both realized, for better or worse, that Leona was not a misunderstood individual who was secretly good. He was jaded, always beaten by others, and essentially worthless.

But then there was you, who was seemingly unbothered by any of this. 

And it wasn’t even like you didn’t believe Leona’s flaws existed; he could work with that. Instead, it was almost like you didn’t care. Like you didn’t really expect him to change outside of your occasional prodding for him to take better care of himself.

You saw his flaws—that much he knew from the times you had bickered with him over something—but you just seemed to accept them. The same way you just seemed to accept other people’s flaws as something that was just a part of them. Only ever really scolding others, or even Leona himself, when their actions either harmed themselves or others.

And that's how Leona knew you were simply too sweet for him. Too sweet for him to endure being near, but simultaneously too sweet for him to turn away.

It was just another show of how worthless he was at anything he tried to do and how little his own efforts mattered. He could try to push you away, but he couldn’t ever stop himself from clinging to you. 

As if you were one of the last sweet bits of his otherwise bitter life. A potent method of making everything else seem to fall away and be ignored so long as he just gets a fleeting taste of that kindness.

And Leona had tried to ignore you, but it was somehow impossible, even when he knew that being close to him could easily taint that sweetness of yours and turn it into a bitterness more like his.

But Leona also knew that you and him were all but opposites, and that was probably where the attraction of being near you lay.

Though that realization did nothing to lessen that attraction, no matter how frustrating it might be.

You shifted, letting out some sort of groggy sound and causing him to snort in amusement at your lethargic movements that had you shifting closer to him as if you craved his warmth. Coming closer to him instead of distancing yourself like you should.

It was ridiculous, watching you now, to think that you’d somehow bested him in the past. But you had. You’d beaten him as well as numerous others at their own game. Making them look like fools, as you seemed to change things simply by existing.

And maybe you did. After all, you weren’t of this world. And perhaps that was why it was so hard for him to detach himself from you.

Your eyes fluttered open, and you twisted to look up at the lion beastman, who didn’t even bother hiding his amusement as you blinked up at him before groggily sitting up, “What time is it?”

Leona glanced around, his ears twitching slightly as he listened to the distant sounds of students chattering as they left their club areas before he looked back your way, “Time to be getting back to the dorms. Club practice has already let out.”

You nodded, not looking terribly surprised and seemingly resigned to having lost the rest of your study period.

“Have you seen Grim?” You frowned lightly as you glanced around, and Leona snorted, leaning back and relaxing once more against the ground, lazily watching you as you collected your books.

“Nope,” At the single word you glanced over at him with raised eyebrows that almost made him want to take back all the previous thoughts he’d had about you being sweet.

But then that tiny bit of bite you had to you only ever seemed to emphasize your sweetness. It was what kept you interesting and at odds with the fools at RSA.

Because, unlike them, you managed to have a certain degree of cunning even with your sweetness. After all, he hadn’t been lying that day when he’d told Azul that you were far more dastardly than the scheming cephalo-punk was.

That was probably another reason why Leona had given up on pushing you away and had even come to expect your presence. He was a glutton for punishment, and with you being a villain that was sweet enough to even catch him unawares, you were certainly enough to keep him on his toes. 

His gaze held yours even as he felt yet another chip in the wall of his defenses fall away, despite the fact that he’d always maintained these walls around himself.

He may not want to let you in, but you really were too sweet for him, and it was reaching the point that Leona was becoming more and more willing to let himself give into his gluttony.

[cripplecharacters]

I have a small cast of fan characters, for a little story that I do post on here but purposely has a very small audience. All of them have various disabilities. (One is deaf, one has a facial difference and unrelated speech issues, one has a congenital limb difference and autism, one is blind… there are others.) I only have one of those disabilities (autism), and the more I write, the more I feel like I shouldn’t write. I follow this blog, look up resources, and try very hard to avoid any harmful tropes. I make it known that I am open to issues being pointed out to me so that I can do better.

But time and time again I feel like I am doing more harm than good. Tonight I have reached the point of wondering whether I should even keep writing these disabilities at all. It’s not that I don’t consider the research worth doing, or that I don’t want to put forth the effort. It’s not that at all. It’s just that I am so overwhelmed and scared of getting things wrong. I don’t want to contribute to any harmful depictions in any way, but I feel like I will mess up no matter what. I feel like it’s arrogant of me to write characters who deal with things I don’t, and that no amount of research can give me the nuance or awareness to write things I don’t experience. I feel like nothing I could do in this situation would be good or right.

Because on the other hand, I don’t want to get rid of the characters’ disabilities, since that’s bad too!

I try very hard to write in a respectful and informed way. But at the end of the day, I don’t have those others disabilities, so maybe I just shouldn’t be writing them. Is it better to avoid writing what I don’t personally experience, and just stick to my own disability?

— MicronLizard

Hi!

Of course we have to write about experiences other than our own. Otherwise our stories would be boring--we can't only write people exactly like us all the time.

Please write disabled characters of all types. Don't be afraid to make mistakes. You won't know everything and that's okay! It's okay for your work to not be perfect representation. And there are plenty of resources out there to help you fix mistakes. Run ideas by us, get a sensitivity reader, ask around disabled communities if anybody is willing to give feedback!

Even if you've done all your research, you won't create a character that resonates with 100% of people with your character's disability. Everyone has different experiences. Some disabled characters that others love are not what I want to see represented; that doesn't mean it's bad representation!

The goal is just to write something beyond a trope. It's impossible to capture every single nuance of the messy reality of disability within a story. If you are so scared of writing "good rep" that you don't include it, we won't get any more rep. Imperfect but well-intentioned representation is far better than stereotypes or no representation at all.

Mod Rock

Hello!

From this ask, I don't see any way in which your writing would be doing harm. As you mention: you research, you try to avoid harmful tropes, look up resources, are open to feedback, put in effort. Plus on the basis of this ask existing and us answering it, you talk to other disabled people about writing disabled characters.

Just based on this, you're doing more than 90% of published writers who write disabled characters, and more than 99% of writers who only share their stories online. I know that this blog might give off a different impression based on the complexity and specificity of asks we get and advice we give, but the average writer doesn't know there's more than one sign language nor that most blind people can see a bit, most of them refuse to say the word "amputee" in favor of basically anything else. A ridiculous amount of people are under the impression that the only good story involving a disabled person is one that ends in a cure. The bar is on the floor.

Most of the harmful representation we reference in all the posts, the tropes that get repeated all the time, they are a result of not doing research and not looking a single thing up, simply not caring. Most "representation" is done from memory, literally whatever the author thinks the disability is. It's not a rare occurrence to see a disabled character and be able to tell that there wasn't even a Wikipedia article involved when creating the character, let alone actual disabled humans. Half the time the memory isn't even from a real source, it's just a different badly made character.

I can see your worries, but logically speaking, you seem to know too much to do a lot of this dumb shit. You don't have to know literally everything to show something with depth and nuance, things that most writers don't consider as an aspect of disability representation in the first place. We have a "don't just ask us 'how to write a disabled character?'" rule in our FAQ because of this - people don't expect there to be any nuance and are surprised to hear that we aren't actually a monolith. A lot of people, and I genuinely mean it, don't differentiate between disabilities. There are writers who write about their deaf characters using braille to read and their blind Japanese characters using ASL to speak. I see artists confuse mobility canes and white canes. Don't even start me on the nonsense that goes on in the realm of mentally ill characters.

If every writer did what I mentioned in the first paragraph of my reply, life would be awesome. There's a difference between a mistake in the grand scheme of things and literally not seeing disability as something worth thinking about for more than a few minutes. Like yeah, there is a chance that when reading, a reader with disability X might go "oh, the author isn't X" because there was an oversight in how the character did some activity on page 71. So what? That's bound to happen literally no matter what you write unless it's an autobiography. Toph Beifong is considered a beloved character that's still one of the best blind characters in media even though she falls into tropes and gets stuff wrong. Trying to make something absolutely perfect is counterproductive and ironically enough will result in less good representation.

You might decide to scrap your character with a facial difference because you think you shouldn't write them, but I promise you that the new indie horror game dev won't. Characters that will be the pain of my existence, made by people who couldn't give less shit, will keep being made into eternity. There's no avoiding it. There will be ninety-nine horrible characters made that might as well have had "ableism" as their character concept. If you decide to not scrap yours, we will have the 1% that was made with respect and sincerity in mind.

No one reasonably expects 100% accuracy from works of fiction, I personally expect research and respect. If you're doing that, your work will probably be at the very top of representation I've seen. Keep writing.

mod Sasza

[rip-quizilla]

The Naughty Wench

Summary: You work as a barmaid at the raunchiest booth at the Renaissance Faire, and Eddie purchases a beer from you. He gets a little more than a "huzzah for the tipper" when he throws a fiver in the jar labeled "Thank you, Mistress". (Read: you talk dirty to Eddie while you pour beer down his throat) Based on this Tik Tok posted by @joyful_aura: https://www.tiktok.com/@joyful_aura/video/7244964514561543470

Word Count: 4.7k

Content Warnings: light degradation, dirty talk, sexual themes

Working the faire circuit was in one word… an experience. 

Just last week you had been in Texas at Scarborough Faire, where it had been hot as balls underneath your layers of linen, lace and leather. The earlier months hadn’t been too bad, but there was one thing you’d learned about the southern states in your years of renaissance faire experience- when summer hits in the south, it hits hard. The moment you’d driven your van past the Indiana state line, you could have sworn the temperature dropped ten degrees on the spot. 

Now here you were- all trussed up in your wench getup, tits pushed up high enough that they rested like two fleshy pillows right below your collarbones. The corset you’d chosen today wasn’t your most comfortable, but you looked damn good in it- milk chocolate brown with pale gold ribbons that laced up the front. The straps that ran over your shoulders provided some extra support, which you were grateful for with all of the movement your job required. Your skirts today were a warm shade of mustard yellow with a few mismatched patches sewn over holes and stains that had refused to come out over the years. Short sleeved blouses were a must, unless you wanted to pass out from heat stroke or have beer-soaked sleeves clinging to your forearms. Today yours was a pale cream color, with little puffed cap sleeves to cover your shoulders and a neckline that plunged below your corset, so the girls were front and center, ready to earn plenty of “huzzah for the tipper!”s.

Today was Sunday, and since this faire was weekends only, Sundays were basically Fridays as far as faire folk were concerned. As was tradition, you would all be going out for libations once the day was done, followed by a blissful night of sleeping late in your Volkswagen Westfalia.

You hadn’t known what to expect when you’d quit your job and joined the faire circuit, but every day you got to meet new people, play dress-up, and speak in a funny accent- which accent? You switched it up day to day. And the fact that you got paid to do that made it even better.

You loved your little renfaire life. 

You stood with your hands on your hips inside the little wooden booth that served as your place of work for the next month’s worth of weekends. Every plastic cup was stacked in place, you had a fresh cleaning rag stuck into your apron, and patrons were already beginning to file into the fairgrounds. A pleasant breeze brought a smile to your face. 

“Morning, love!” You turned to see your fellow barmaid, Ingrid, wiping her hands on her own apron after wringing out her own rag into a small bucket of soapy water. Her outfit today was- like most days- the polar opposite of yours. She looked more like a pirate wench while your color palette was more akin to what one might picture in a countryside tavern. Burgundy skirts and off-white petticoats swished around her black lace-up boots, and her black leather waist cincher showcased the smallest part of Ingrid’s middle. You gasped, acting scandalized by the bits of black lace from her bra that peeked over the neckline of her red blouse.

“Ingrid, what kind of place do you think we’re running here?” you tutted, smiling cheekily all the while. “This is a respectable establishment! People might start thinking we sell more than just the drinks here, you know.” 

Ingrid cackled, hopping up to sit on the wooden counter behind her. “My dear, I have absolutely no clue what you could be talking about.” She shrugged, smirking behind a shared secret. “We do sell more than just the drinks.” You both giggled knowingly, continuing to complete all of the morning to-do’s around the bar.

Ingrid was right- drinks weren’t the only thing your bar was known for. 

There were plenty of booths around the faire where patrons could purchase a drink, but only one where the barmaids would pour beer directly into their mouths while talking dirty to them- and The Naughty Wench just happened to be that booth. 

Originally, the idea had been Ingrid’s- the two of you had been friends for a year now, meeting last year in this exact same spot at Indie Faire and working at what was then a run-of-the-mill beer booth. It was customary at any renaissance faire for bar wenches to proclaim “Huzzah for the tipper!” when presented with a tip of any kind, so neither of you was a stranger to putting on the theatrics when money was dropped into your tip jar. One day, however, Ingrid had put out not one, but two tip jars- one labeled ‘Thank You’, the other labeled ‘Thank You Mistress’. You had laughed at it at first. Then Ingrid started…changing the script. 

A patron would chuckle to themselves, throwing a dollar into the Mistress jar, eyes going wide and cheeks flushing when Ingrid would smile and tell them they were “such a good boy.” 

After a few more, she’d gotten even more creative. “Oh, you thought I only wanted money?” she would croon, holding the beer tauntingly out of their reach. “I want to hear you beg for it, say ‘please, mistress’,” When you’d heard it you’d been appalled, mouth opened wide in shock. You had already prepared yourself for the patron to yell in her face and demand their money back when you’d heard a shy, stuttering “P-please, mistress, can I have my beer?”

Throughout the day, Ingrid’s “Mistress” character only continued to amp up with every hour. At some point, you had joined in, repeating the sultry tones you’d been listening to Ingrid spout easily to strangers and even making up a few responses of your own.

“Only good boys get to drink at the faire, have you been a good boy?”

“You need to say please before you drink- good girl, you’re so very welcome.” 

“Hands behind your back and open wide.”

Word about Ingrid’s sultry tipping strategy circulated quickly. Soon, more and more patrons were lining up at your booth ready to be degraded by pretty girls in tight corsets, and when you started pouring the beer into their mouths, tits pressed up higher on your chest while you leaned seductively over the bartop? People couldn’t get enough. 

The success you’d both had with Ingrid’s brilliant idea had now landed you here- a booth that was dedicated to serving delicious beverages garnished with a splash of degradation. 

Your first patron of the day- a young woman who looked ready to play a fairy in A Midsummer Night’s Dream- stepped up to Ingrid, gazing up at her with a flutter of eyelashes as she ordered a can of beer and shyly dropped a one dollar bill into the jar labeled ‘Thank You, Mistress’. Ingrid smiled, asking “Do you know what that jar is for?” to which the fairy blushed and nodded, giggling. 

“Mm-hm.” 

Ingrid grinned flirtatiously, popped open the beer, and addressed the fairy, “Such tiny little hands you have, they’ll make my can look so huge…”

***

Eddie Munson was vibrating.

At least, he felt like he was. He could barely contain his enthusiasm as he looked around at every sword, every pair of elf ears, every corset- to his left, there was a booth selling handmade leather journals. To his right, a stage where a crowd had begun to gather to watch a group of bagpipe players. In front of him and behind him, a seemingly endless number of nerds who, like him, had found a place where being a weirdo was not mocked, not simply tolerated- but celebrated. 

“I fucking love it here.” Eddie sighed. 

Steve Harrington, whom Eddie was still a little astounded had been convinced to actually go to a renaissance faire, looked overwhelmed already. “I can’t believe there are this many grown adults who wanted to spend the last day of their weekend playing dress-up.” 

“Playing dress-up and getting drunk.” Robin corrected. Unlike Harrington, she had thrown herself into the renfaire spirit completely, showing up in a tasteful pirate outfit that Eddie had a feeling was comprised mostly of oversized pieces she’d found in the men’s section of the thrift store, but she pulled it off. All she was missing were some real swords, which she had already announced she was on the hunt for today. 

“I feel bad for people who are so out of touch with their inner child that they have to get drunk just to put on a costume.” Dustin said matter-of-factly, shooting Steve a judgemental look. Steve balked when he caught it, yapping at Dustin about growing up or the ridiculousness of how much quality costumes cost- something along those lines. Eddie wasn’t listening, he was too busy taking mental note of which booths he needed to come back to before they left; he knew if he ducked inside them now, he would blow all of his money on the first stall they saw, and he was determined to stretch his budget for the day as far as he could. 

“Well I for one think we all look amazing, costume or no.” Robin said decisively. Eddie had to agree. He had spent weeks working on his own costume, digging through his and his friends’ closets to create an ensemble fit for a tiefling bard such as himself. He had fashioned himself a pair of red horns using one of Erica’s old headbands, toilet paper rolls, tin foil, paper mache and black paint. Now, they sat nestled securely among his brown mane of curls. The rest of his outfit had been easy- a blousy-looking shirt from Nancy’s closet that he’d rolled up around the elbows, one of Wayne’s old waistcoats from a suit that hadn’t seen the light of day since Eddie’s parents’ wedding, apparently, a pair of black pants that he’d tucked into his combat boots, and a plethora of accessories. Rings on every finger, every belt he owned slung over his waist or across his torso, one even looped twice around his thigh. Eddie had even gone the extra mile this morning and smudged some of Robin’s red lipstick (he was still amazed that Buckley owned lipstick) around his eyes as a nod to the fact that tieflings’ skin is normally red or blue. To finish off the look, he had even brought along his old acoustic guitar, which was slung over his back to mark him undeniably as a bard.

Eddie thought he looked pretty damn cool. 

The rest of their party had also decked themselves out for the day, Robin with her pirate outfit, Dustin, Mike, Lucas and Will had done a fantastic job of transforming themselves into hobbits for the day. Max, Erica and El hadn’t been able to decide whether they wanted to dress as pirates or fairies- so they’d all chosen both. Now they looked happy as could be, skipping down the dirt path with fairy wings on their backs and plastic swords on their hips. That left Steve as the only normal-looking person in a sea of geeks. 

Eddie chuckled to himself- for once in his life, Steve Harrington was the odd one out while Eddie Munson was effortlessly fitting in. 

“First order of business is turkey legs.” Robin announced, eyes already darting in every direction in search of lunch as she wandered ahead.

Steve mumbled in agreement, along with something about finding something to drink so that he’ll survive the day. Just then, a trio of pretty young women in corsets caught his eye, immediately brightening his mood. He ran a hand through his hair, ready to say something undoubtedly Steve-y to them, when they beat him to the punch. 

“Hi! Um, would you mind taking our picture?” One of them said, shoving a camera in his direction. 

Steve, surprised but not altogether deterred, smiled and took the camera. “I’d be happy to, ladies.” However, he couldn’t hold back his shock when the girls all turned to the four teenage boys. 

“You guys look like you came straight out of Lord of the Rings!” one of them exclaimed. “Best costumes I’ve seen all weekend, honestly.” The girls situated themselves between the blushing boys as they muttered different ‘thank you’s and complimented the girls’ outfits in turn. 

Steve snapped the picture begrudgingly while Eddie slung an arm around his shoulders. “Looks like you’re losing your charm there, Harrington.” he smirked, earning an eye roll from Steve in turn. 

“Yeah, yeah, piss off, Dante’s Inferno.” 

“How have you read Dante but not Tolkien?”

Their bickering was cut short by corset girl retrieving the camera from Steve, then giving Eddie a shy, “I like your horns.” 

Eddie turned his full attention to her with a toothy grin. “‘Preciate it, sweetheart.”

The girls waved goodbye with a thank you, erupting into giggles as they walked away. Steve shook his head in disbelief. “What world did I accidentally cross into where Munson has game and I have none?”

Eddie cackled maniacally, hopping onto a nearby picnic table and swinging his guitar to his front, strumming it a couple of times with a flourish of his hand. 

“You’re in my kingdom now, King Steve!” Eddie plucked the strings of his instrument jauntily, unable to contain his glee. “Here, it pays to be a freak.”

Strum-strum-strum.

Eddie threw a fist in the air. “Huzzah!”

To his surprise, his call was echoed by several patrons and vendors, erupting in a hearty “Huzzah!” from all around him. 

Accepted. Celebrated. Eddie felt at home. 

That’s when Robin came bounding up from behind him, two turkey legs in hand. “Okay, I know where we’re going next.” She sounded excited.

Steve took one of the turkey legs from her hand, eager to get something in his stomach. “And where is that, Robin?” 

She grinned largely, immediately launching into a retelling of a conversation she had had with another patron while waiting in line for the turkey legs, going on several tangents about how surprised she was that the line was short, how the patron had been dressed like a viking and actually had viking tattoos all up and down his arm, how she wasn’t sure how accurate they were but they sure looked cool-

“Robin!” Steve interjected impatiently.

“Right! Sorry! Basically one of the bars has wenches that talk dirty if you give them a tip, and I want to see that in action.”

Steve and Eddie’s eyes grew wide. Steve, hilariously, started to check behind him for the kids as if they were still too young and innocent to be talking about such things even though they were all about to graduate high school already. To his relief, they had all wandered into a booth selling leather goods. 

Eddie responded before Steve could. His lips had curled into a mischievous smile, “Buckley,” he crooned, gesturing for her to lead the way. “I’m gonna need you to tell me more about these wenches.”

***

By noon, the line for your booth was easily at least ten people long and stayed that way no matter how many beers you’d poured. Luckily for the two of you, not every patron at the faire was seeking you out just for the bonus content. Most of them just wanted a drink, which you couldn’t fault them for. After all, nothing went with a summer day quite like a cold, bubbly beverage. 

“Hey,” Ingrid’s voice caught your attention as you took a brief moment to wipe down the drain under the tap while the line had gone briefly shorter. “Remember that conversation we had where I called you out on having a type?”

You laughed, nodding your head. “Yes, I think I do. Why?”

“Tell me what that type was again?”

You sighed, tucking your rag back into your apron and patting your hands dry at your sides. “Let’s see, I think I remember you said long hair was involved-”

“Long dark hair, specifically.”

“-long dark hair, right.” you remedied. You busied yourself with fixing the next patrons’ drink orders as the discussion proceeded. “Tattoos were mentioned, and I think you said something about makeup?”

“You always get all swoony around men wearing eyeliner or some kind of eye makeup. Always. Without fail.”

“Yeah, yeah okay…” you rolled your eyes. She was right, but you hated that you were apparently so obvious about it. 

“I would like to make an educated guess about another thing I think belongs on that list.” Finally turning to face Ingrid, you cocked your head, crossing your arms over your chest. 

“Okay, I’ll bite- what else do you think belongs on that list?”

Ingrid grinned, looking pointedly at something over your shoulder. “I think you’re into guys who play guitar.”

You blanched- damn. That had been true since high school, how did she-

You spun around to see whatever Ingrid was focused on behind you, and felt your knees get weak when you found it. There was a man- in his twenties, from the looks of it- dressed as a tiefling bard with a guitar slung over his shoulder. It was true, from looks alone he checked all of your boxes. The long curly hair, the red makeup around his eyes, the tattoos that showed on his forearms… 

“You okay over there, or did my business partner go brain dead for a second?” You heard Ingrid’s smirk before you saw it. She laughed at you good-naturedly when you faintly swatted at her with your cleaning rag. “It looks like they’re headed this way, you take him and I’ll take his blonde pirate friend.” 

You took another look at the man- trying not to be obvious about the fact that you were looking- and noticed this time that he was traveling with two others: the aforementioned blonde pirate and a normal-looking guy who, admittedly, had very nice hair. They did seem to be headed your way; you quickly took a moment to turn around and top off the canteen that hung from the leather belt at your waist with some cold water. You quickly took a sip before turning around to face the counter, and when you did, there he was. 

 “Hi, uh-” his eyes were downcast, hands digging into his pockets for cash. “-can you break a twenty?” Pulling a crumpled bill from a money clip, his gaze met yours under an apologetic brow. Big brown eyes, framed with blood-red smudges- he pulled it off. Tremendously.

You didn’t have to force your service industry smile- it came naturally for him. “With pleasure, noble bard.” You propped your forearms on the wooden bartop, hoping your cleavage was looking particularly stunning at the angle from which he was gazing up at you. “And what sort of beverage might you be craving on this fine day?”

“That’s right, wrap your lips around my tip and drink me down, beautiful-”

Before he could answer, the two of you were both more than a little distracted by Ingrid’s filthy monologue. She held a freshly opened can of beer to the blonde pirate girl’s lips, and you were very impressed with how easily the girl was able to obey the instructions that Ingrid gave every customer who tossed a tip into the Mistress jar- hands behind your back, mouth open, chin up, eyes on me. You and the dark-haired tiefling were both entranced by the sight before you: Ingrid, with the endless stream of dirty words that tumbled from her mouth as she poured bubbly, golden brew down the throat of the tall blonde pirate. 

“-keep that pretty mouth open you little minx, and look up at me as i finish down your throat. Yes, that’s a good girl, and swallow.” Ingrid pulled the can away from her lips with a smile, gazing proudly down at the pirate who sputtered out a soft cough after breathing down some much-needed oxygen. “Good job, darling.” Ingrid crooned. 

The regularly-dressed guy standing behind her stared with wide eyes, and you couldn’t quite tell if he was appalled or impressed. “Oh…my god, Robin!” he guffawed. 

“I’ll.. aha, um-” You refocused your attention to the bard standing before you, a natural blush now creeping into his cheeks beneath the red makeup on his temples. “-I’ll have what she’s having, please.” He nodded to his friend- Robin, apparently. 

You smiled knowingly, taking the twenty from his hands and ignoring the rush you felt when your fingertips brushed his. You made his change, handing him a few fives and ones before giving the Mistress jar a gentle tap. You finished opening his beer just in time to see him toss a five into the jar- a generous tip, since the beer only cost $3. 

You raised an eyebrow, smiling at him appreciatively. “Huzzah for the tipper.” you purred, opting to make the phrase just for him instead of yelling it obnoxiously for all to hear. After all, you were about to be plenty obnoxious already. 

You nodded flirtatiously to direct his attention above you. “See those shackles up there, love?”

His eyes, shining with anticipation and the best kind of nerves, flicked up to what you were referring to- dangling from the wood above the bartop were a pair of metal handles that hung by black-painted chains. They were similar to an actual shackle, but it was obvious that they were there to hold, not imprison. The bard looked back down to you, returning your flirting gaze. 

“I do.” he smirked.

You narrowed your eyes on him playfully. “I’m going to need you to reach up and take hold of them-” He did as he was told, and you admired how his blousy sleeves fell further down to his biceps, showcasing the way his ink stretched over lean muscles. “-oh good boy, you look so good stretched out for me like that. Hold tight now, darling.”

You had to hold back a chuckle at how quickly his flirty eye contact and smirk turned to a pure deer-in-the-headlights expression when you’d called him a good boy. You had an inkling that this guy wasn’t used to being told what to do in this particular way. 

Leaning forward until your cleavage was practically up against his nose, you nodded at him sweetly. “Open that pretty pink mouth for me darling- yes, that’s right, lips around my hole and suck-” Once the can was to his lips, you began pouring a steady stream down his throat. His big doe eyes didn’t know where to look, torn between your eyes and your tits that looked just about ready to pop out of your corset. The rest of the words that tumbled from your mouth were less spoken and more so moaned while you gazed down at this gorgeous little tiefling who- for the next few moments- was completely at your mercy.

“-take it, yes, good boy, take me deep into your throat as you look up at me with those pretty brown eyes. Oh my goodness, you’re so obedient! I love it when a big strong man lets himself be this pretty and stretched out for me as he suckles on my little hole. No, don’t look away, my eyes are up here you wretched little thing- yes, that’s right, oh I only wish I could hear all the pretty noises you make when you take me down deep like this. Yes, you’re going to finish me, aren’t you? Oh yes, you’re going to finish me using that dirty little mouth-” Nearing the end of the can, you poured the last drop down his throat. “-yes, oh that’s a good boy, swallow every drop of me, good job love.”

He sputtered a final swallow, red-faced and breathing deep after chugging an entire can of beer. His eyes were still wide, but now there was also the way he looked at you- like he would do pretty much anything you ever told him to do at the drop of a hat. 

Letting go of the shackles above your head, he managed to catch his breath before checking behind him to make sure he didn’t have a long line of waiting customers. No line had formed, but his blush had deepened when he saw his friends both watching him with smirks that said they were never going to let him live this down. 

“Shit,” he chuckled looking up at you, his personality taking on a slightly more devil-may-care sort of attitude now. “I-uh- I think I blacked out, you might have to say all that again, I didn’t catch it the first time.” 

You laughed, easily shirking the domineering attitude that you exuded for the job and relaxing into what felt natural- soft, sweet, and flirty- with this guy, at least. “Tell you what,” you said, coyly. You weren’t normally one to invite strangers out for drinks, but Ingrid had been right about one thing- this guy was definitely your type. “When the faire closes today, I’ll be at a bar called The Honeybee about ten minutes from here. If I happen to see you there,” you shrugged, and you didn’t miss how his eyes immediately flicked down to your cleavage as the motion made you bounce. “-then we can say all kinds of things to each other.” 

The facial expression on the bard changed in an instant, his expression shifting from innocent and eager to knowing and darkly tempting. “Tell me, sweetheart,” he said, his voice dropping an octave, “Are you always as demanding as you were just now, or was that just an act?” 

You knew what he was asking, and part of you wanted to tell him that he’ll have to show up at The Honeybee if he wants to find out, but something in you also wanted him to know the answer to that question- wanted him to know so many things about you it made your head spin. 

“I can go either way and have a great time regardless.” you replied, smiling sweet as a spoonful of honey, and the devilish grin that he gave you in return took the breath from your lungs. 

“Perfect.” he practically growled, “What’s your name?”

You told him, and the way he repeated it on his lips had you pressing your thighs tightly together. “And your name is?”

“Eddie.” he smiled. 

You grinned in return. “Eddie.” you repeated. His name tasted like whiskey and cinnamon on your tongue. “I’ll see you tonight, then.” 

To your surprise, Eddie laughed raucously, hopping back a few paces. “Oh, on the contrary, fair barmaid!” With a flourish, he swung his guitar from his back to his front, strumming a few chords in rapid succession and plucking them in a melody that showed a level of skill that you hadn’t been expecting. After a moment of music, he stopped short and looked up at you with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “Mark my words, my love- you’ll see me again before tonight and you will- without a doubt- hear me before you see me.” 

You let out a surprised laugh, fingers flying up to your mouth to block an obnoxious guffaw from escaping your lips. That only spurred Eddie on more. He made a sort of swatting motion with his hand, gesturing toward your own hand at your mouth. “Away, thou evil hand! How dare ye venture to hide the sweetest of smiles that does bloom on a flower such as this?” He plucked away at his instrument dramatically, as if doing so were a declaration of war. You couldn’t help but humor him, grabbing the offending hand with your other one and firmly clasping both in your lap. 

Eddie smiled, still strumming his guitar. “Aye, and stay away! For there are far better things for pretty hands to do than hide even prettier faces.” He waggled his eyebrows up and down as he began to walk away with his friends. 

Your jaw dropped as you let out a good natured scoff. “And what would the noble bard suggest I do with my pretty hands?” you knew that you practically yelled it, and it caused a few other guests to glance your way questioningly; you didn’t care, it certainly wasn’t the strangest thing you’d said today. 

Eddie’s cackle rang out through the air like electricity during a storm, and your heart did a little backflip when he spun around once before facing you one last time before he was out of your line of sight. “Oh, my lady-” he called, smiling unabashedly, “-I humbly suggest you find the biggest can you have, think of me-” and then the motherfucker winked, “-and use your imagination.”

[xomakara]

Breathing

(re-posting from my old account seulrinnie-rinrin/xomakara-secondary)

SUMMARY | You were betrayed by your betrothed and left for dead. You’re rescued by a healer named Yeosang, who nurses you back to health. As you recover, you share your past with Yeosang and express your desire to live a quiet life, away from the rumors and hatred you faced. PAIRING | Yeosang x Reader GENRE/CONTENT | healer!Yeosang, noble!Reader, non-idol au, fantasy, romance, slight angst, slight fluff, smut, consensual, vaginal sex (wrap it up y’all!), oral sex, gentle lovemaking WARNINGS | Its a fantasy setting so…yeah, implied violence, betrayal, injuries/wounds, RATING | Mature, Explicit, 18+, NSFW, MDNI LENGTH | 7,050 words TAGLIST | -- NETWORKS | AUTHOR’S NOTE | This took me a bit to write and I finally finished it! I hope you all enjoyed it as much as I wrote it! Please reblog, comment and like~ Much love!

You couldn’t have known that it would have come down to this.

Couldn’t have known this would have been the last breath you would have taken.

He knew better than anyone else how much you loved him and even though you begged for a chance to be a family, you didn’t even get that one chance.

You were just discarded like the rubbish you were, never being able to find happiness or peace again. It all happened so quickly; there was no way you could stop what had just occurred.

All you wanted was to feel safe and protected; all you ever wanted was love, happiness, and companionship.

He gave you that love and happiness once upon a time.

But then that woman who was like a ray of sunshine swept him off his feet and took him away from you. He changed. He gave her everything and forgot about you. The rumors that you were evil and vindictive grew and flourished because of how you treated that woman. They said you stole him from her even though that was far from the truth.

The stories they told made him want to leave you and finally it did happen, just not in the way you imagined. Now he’s gone and you’re alone.

No more fighting.

No more tears.

Nothing but emptiness.

He is now free from your grasp as his guards drove a sword through your chest.

There is nothing left for you now except for pain and grief.

As you laid on the warm, grassy field looking at his fleeting back as he walked away with that woman at his side, you couldn’t help but take one last breath before darkness consumed you. Your heart stopped beating; your soul died in that moment when he gave up on you, right in front of your very eyes.

You woke with a start, breath heavy as you clutched at your painful chest where the guards’ sword pierced through it during your final moments of life.

You weren’t dead?

You looked around the room and noticed the bare furniture and bright white walls; the smell of death wasn’t present.

It was empty except for you. There was no prince by your side, no other guards and fair ladies, no one…

It was just you and this huge bed. You suddenly felt cold, not only from the icy temperature outside but also from the fact that your whole body hurt.

“You’re awake?” You heard a voice called out. You looked over to see a man standing near the door holding a bowl of something. “How do you feel?”

“Where am I?” You managed to choke out between deep breaths. The man came closer to the bed and kneeled down next to you, sitting the bowl on the nightstand that was next to the bed. “And who are you?”

“My name is Kang Yeosang.” The man smiled, putting a hand on your shoulder. You instinctively shied away. “Here, have some soup. It has medicinal herbs in it. Hopefully it will help ease the pain you’re feeling.”

“Thank you,” You took the bowl gingerly, cautiously as you carefully spooned the contents into your mouth.

Yeosang watched you for a bit, giving you a slight nod. “I know you have plenty of questions. I’m sure you’re wondering how you ended up here.” He sighed deeply. “I don’t know what exactly happened to you…but I found you bleeding out in the fields. You were barely breathing. You were barely alive. I brought you here, cleaned you up and nursed you back to health.”

“How long have I been here?” You asked after you swallowed the rest of the broth. You lifted yourself off the bed, using Yeosang’s hand as support.

"Only a few days.” He answered solemnly. “That wound on your back looks infected. We can treat it if you want.”

“Okay,” You nodded. He pulled up a chair next to the bed and sat next to you, giving you a worried look.

“Can I ask what happened to you?” Yeosang asked, his fingers untying the thick ribbons that tied the back of the shirt you were in. You closed your eyes as he peeled it open, exposing the injury in your back. “What happened when you were left out in the fields to die?”

“The man I thought I loved betrayed me for another woman. The rumors were that I stole him from that woman. That I was evil and vindictive.” You sobbed quietly as Yeosang tried to soothe your wounds. “People hated me for loving someone who didn’t love me back. I tried talking to them to come to an understanding during the imperial hunt…but I guess I was the one hunted instead.”

Yeosang gently dabbed the wound, helping you sit upright against the headboard as he began to bandage the cloth around your chest. You winced from the sharp pain. "They wouldn’t listen to you?”

“No,” You shook your head. “None of them cared. They just accused me of horrible things and said terrible things about me. They made my life hell and there was nothing I could do to stop it. To everyone, I’m just a villain undeserving of love and happiness. So I lost hope in trying to get people to accept me for who I really am. All I ever wanted was to belong somewhere, to be accepted by others.”

“Oh…” Yeosang furrowed his brows as he tightened the last knot of the bandage. He grabbed the shirt and put it back on you, wrapping it tightly around your chest. “Do you want revenge?”

You shook your head vehemently. “I don’t care about the rumors anymore. What’s done is done. Nothing can change that now. I just want to live life quietly even if people think I’m dead. As long as I am happy, then that’s all that matters.”

Yeosang patted your hand softly. “We’ll talk more later. Right now you should try and get some sleep.” He stood up and started walking towards the door. “Sleep well.”

You laid back down in the bed and waited until you felt drowsiness take over your body.

Your fever spiked and you coughed violently, sending hot spittle flying across the room. You were sweating profusely, your skin burning under your touch as Yeosang sat by your side, wiping your face with a wet cloth.

“Please stay still,” Yeosang murmured soothingly as he wiped your forehead with another cloth. “This will make you feel better.”

You let out a soft groan as Yeosang touched your back. Your back still ached, especially from the wound that pierced your body. The wound from the guards hadn’t fully healed yet. You were scared to move too much lest the wound reopened again.

“Let me see.” Yeosang reached for the blanket, uncovering your torso. “Does it still hurt?”

“Yeah,” You frowned as you tried to sit up. “A lot.”

“It’ll heal soon,” Yeosang assured you as he used the clean cloth to wipe your sweat away. You sighed in relief as your head cooled down. “Just relax and let me tend to you. This might hurt a little.”

“Alright,” You nodded, closing your eyes as you felt his hands moving around your wounded chest. The first touch made you flinch, causing Yeosang to pause in his work. You exhaled loudly as you slowly lay back down, letting Yeosang continue tending to your wounds. He worked steadily, cleaning the wounds and applying the healing balm onto the wound.

“Everything alright?” Yeosang asked concernedly, his eyes focused on your chest as he continued his work.

“Mmm hmm,” You hummed in reply.

He finished treating the wound after what seemed like forever. He let out a sigh of relief before sitting back in his chair. “There, that should help with the pain.”

“Thanks,” You smiled weakly. “That really helped.”

“Are you hungry?” Yeosang asked. “The broth earlier wasn’t enough for you. Are you hungry for anything else?”

“I would kill for meat…” You muttered but shook your head when you saw his face. “I don’t really mean I’d kill anyone. I’ll shut up now. Sorry for saying that.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he chuckled lightly. “Would you like some water? You haven’t drank any in a while.”

“Sure,” You smiled gratefully as Yeosang got up from his seat and filled a cup of water from the nearby basin. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He handed you a cup of water. “Drink it slowly. Let me know if you need anything else.”

“I will.” You promised as you sipped the cool water. It tasted like nothing compared to the wine you usually drank but it was nice and refreshing nonetheless.

After your glass was empty, Yeosang refilled it. “Now, how are you feeling?” He asked gently. “Better?”

“Yes.” You nodded, swallowing the remaining liquid in the cup. “Much better.”

“Good.” Yeosang smiled at you reassuringly. “I’m going to head out and procure some meat. Will you be okay here alone?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine.” You reassured him. “Go on ahead. I’m good.”

“Alright.” He stood up, taking his empty cup with him. “Have a good night, Y/N. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Night, Yeosang.” You watched him leave before lying back down in bed. You set the cup of water aside and stared up at the ceiling, focusing your attention on counting the beams above you.

Your wound had healed considerably, although it was still tender to the touch. At least it didn’t hurt nearly as much as it did yesterday. The worst part was having to constantly deal with the constant headache that was plaguing your mind. Even though you were alone, you had never felt more alone than you did at this very moment. You wished you had someone by your side; someone you could lean on. A friend or family member. But sadly, none of those existed.

But Yeosang had taken such good care of you.

In the past few days that you’ve been in Yeosang’s care, you learned that he was a former guard in the imperial army before losing both his parents in a tragic accident. Because of his current situation, he decided to return to his home village to tend to his parent’s property and retired from the imperial army.

Yeosang became a healer to provide healing for the village and for coin. He has always enjoyed healing and saving people, being outdoors for herbs and being among nature. In fact, he was looking for medicinal herbs in the outskirts of his village when he found you on the verge of death in the field.

Yeosang was a kind man, a bit weird and eccentric at times but he had a good heart. After your injuries were treated, he stayed by your side, helping you recover. He told you that you needed to eat properly in order to regain your strength. So he provided you with the best food he could find, made you nutritious soups and prepared delicious meat meals for you. You knew you should be thankful for his kindness but all you could think about was how lonely you were right now.

Your loneliness gnawed at you day and night. You had been so used to receiving love once upon a time. Now that you no longer had that, your heart felt heavy. Lonely and hopeless.

You couldn’t sleep properly because of the constant migraine that kept banging against your skull, keeping you awake. If only there was something you could do about it…

Yeosang returned to the cottage right before the sun rose, bringing with him fresh meat and vegetables from his excursion. After placing the supplies inside the cottage, he grabbed a small jar of water and brought it to your bedside. You took the water gratefully as Yeosang walked towards the bed.

“How are you doing?” He asked, looking at you intently.

“I’m better,” You replied with a small smile.

“Good.” Yeosang stroked your hair softly. “Maybe tomorrow we can go fishing. Would you like that?”

“Sure,” You smiled. Fishing sounded like a great way to pass the day.

“Let’s take a look at your wound then. Just to make sure everything’s okay.”

You bit the inside of your cheek as you felt his fingers lifting the back of your shirt, exposing your wounded back. Yeosang placed his warm hand against your back as he inspected the wound. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.” He nodded, moving his fingers away from your back to lift up the front of your shirt. “Anything.”

You blushed slightly as Yeosang looked down at your naked torso, eyeing every inch of it. “Do you ever feel lonely living here? All by yourself without anyone?”

Yeosang paused in his movements. His fingers still as he held onto the edge of your shirt. He blinked a few times, seemingly confused. “Why do you ask?”

“I…it just came to me.” You scratched the back of your head nervously. “Sorry, I must have asked a silly question.”

Yeosang’s expression softened. “Not a silly question at all. Do you feel lonely here?”

“A little,” You admitted sheepishly. “My injury makes me quite vulnerable and sometimes I wish I had someone with me.”

Yeosang closed his eyes and gave you a faint smile. “You know what, Y/N?” He whispered gently. “I’d gladly be your company.”

Yeosang’s words caught you off guard. For a split second, your heartbeat increased dramatically. Your breathing became shallow and ragged. It took a few moments before you managed to calm yourself down.

“What did you say?” You stammered, staring at Yeosang.

“Y/N, I’d gladly-”

“Are you sure?” You interrupted, suddenly feeling nervous. “You barely know me.”

“You said you wanted to live a happy, quiet life. And I know you want to forget about all those things that happened to you. I want to give you that.”

“Yeosang…” You grabbed hold of his arm and squeezed it tightly. “I…” You closed your eyes and sighed. “I…”

Yeosang placed his free hand on top of yours. “Y/N, it’s okay to not want to be lonely. I’m kinda lonely too with no friends and living in this cabin by myself.”

You nodded your head. “So you can relate.”

“I can definitely relate. My situation probably pales in comparison to yours but I can definitely relate to being lonely.” Yeosang gave you a small smile as he patted your hand. “Are you hungry?”

“Yes,” You breathed out. “Very.”

“Good.” Yeosang grabbed the tray of food and placed it on the table next to the bed. He sat down next to you and handed you the spoon. “Eat.”

You moved the blanket off of you and sat up, digging into the large meal with a ravenous appetite. It was the first time in a while that you felt full and content. All thanks to Yeosang.

As you ate, Yeosang watched you intently. He was lost in thought as he sipped on his own bowl of stew. You had grown quite fond of his presence in the cottage since he arrived. Without him, you felt completely alone.

“Do you want to talk about what happened to you?” Yeosang suddenly spoke up, breaking you out of your thoughts. “I mean I knew you talked about it a bit before but…is there more that you can get off your chest?”

“Uh…yeah,” You mumbled, pushing your empty bowl away. “I suppose it’s about time I did.”

“Okay.” Yeosang raised an eyebrow. “So tell me, Y/N.”

You glanced over at Yeosang before continuing. “Well you probably know that I’m a noble. But I’m a high ranking noble that was betrothed to a high ranking lord at a young age. Maybe I was delusional or something but I thought he loved me just as I loved him. We spent countless hours together talking about our future and dreaming about what it would be like once we got married and settled down. Our families have been friends for generations. Everything was perfect. Then one day, everything changed.”

You paused for a moment, collecting your thoughts before speaking again. “I found out that he picked up a stray orphan from his travels, brought her home and took her under his care. He fell in love with her and he stopped loving me. It was just like that. Completely unexpected. One minute, I’m flying high thinking about my happily ever after with someone I love, the next minute, I find myself tossed aside like trash. Devastated is not even the word to describe how I felt. All I could do was crawl inside a hole and cry.”

You rested your hand on top of your stomach. “It was terrible. It was embarrassing and painful. Everyone was calling me names, telling me I deserved it and worse. My family abandoned me, telling me that I was a disgrace. How I was stupid for letting him go. For ruining our reputation.”

You shook your head slowly. “I didn’t know what to do. I tried to fight for him but he wouldn’t listen. No one listened. They called me evil saying that I was stealing him from his true love. My whole world collapsed around me. And then the imperial hunt came around and well…here we are.”

Yeosang remained silent as he stared at you. He took your hand in his. “I’m sorry you had to experience that, Y/N.”

“Thanks.” You wiped away the tears forming in your eyes. “And thank you for finding me when you did. I’m still alive because of you. And I really appreciate that.”

Yeosang smiled softly. “You’re welcome.”

You cleared your throat. “The food is good.” You looked down at your plate. “Thank you.”

“No problem.” Yeosang smiled. “Do you want anything else?”

“I’m all good.” You shook your head. “Do you think we can head into the village later? I need some new clothes and I think a walk will be nice. It’ll help clear my head.“

Yeosang stood up and stretched his arms above his head. "That sounds like a great idea.”

When Yeosang walked out of the room, you gazed out of the window. From where you were sitting, you could see the fields and trees surrounding the cottage. There was something beautiful about it. Everything seemed peaceful. You hoped that soon, you’d be able to find peace in your life again. But for now, you were grateful that Yeosang was taking care of you.

A few hours later, you and Yeosang left the cottage and headed towards the village. A few villagers spotted you walking through town and they started whispering amongst themselves. As you approached them, one woman nudged another and pointed at you. The two women exchanged a glance and one of them ran off to tell their friends. Soon everyone in the square turned their heads towards you, curious about who you were.

“Yeosang! Did you find a wife?” A woman shouted. “Oh my, she’s so pretty!”

“You’re lucky to have Yeosang as a husband, girl!” Another woman yelled. “If only my husband was half as cute as him.”

You let out a small laugh as the people began gathering around you. A group of children surrounded you and begged you to play with them but Yeosang had to shoo them away due to your injury.

A crowd had formed outside the tavern and the owner poked his head out of the door, smiling. “There goes another lover coming to steal my man. Sorry everyone, it looks like Yeosang is finally off the market.”

“Saving a damsel in distress isn’t such a bad thing, after all.” Yeosang chuckled and leaned against the wooden post beside the door. Everyone laughed as he turned to look at you, a mischievous smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Let’s go get you some new clothes and other things you might need. Don’t worry, I won’t leave your side. The villagers are pretty nosy.”

“I don’t mind it all.” You smiled back. “Everyone seems to really love you.”

Yeosang rubbed the back of his neck. “They’re a bit too obsessed with me.”

“I think it’s lovely.” You grinned. “But let me ask you a question.”

“Of course.”

“You’re not embarrassed that the villagers are calling me your wife? I mean we just met and we’ve known each other for less than a week. That’s not very normal.”

Yeosang shrugged. “I guess I just don’t mind.”

You tilted your head. “Huh?”

“I don’t really care what people think.” He replied. “As long as you’re happy, I’m happy.”

“Oh…” You felt your cheeks heat up slightly. “Thank you.”

Yeosang pulled open the doors to the tavern and stepped inside, motioning for you to follow him. He ordered a meal for both of you and set it on the counter as he waited for the cook to bring it out.

“You’re so kind to me, Yeosang.” You mumbled quietly, setting down your plate.

“Don’t mention it.” Yeosang gave you a reassuring smile. “It’s nothing.”

“Maybe not but it means a lot to me. Thank you.”

Yeosang waved his hands. “No need to thank me. Just take it easy, okay?”

“I will.” You flashed him a warm smile before resting your head against the wall behind you.

After lunch, you and Yeosang went to go buy items that you would need, explore the village for a bit and headed back home.

“Yeosang,” you muttered as you looked at the wild fields that stretched out ahead of you.

“Hmm?” Yeosang asked, looking over his shoulder at you.

“You know that high noble that I was betrothed to? It’s actually Crown Prince Mingi…” You let out a sigh. “He’s the man that I was supposed to marry. The man that betrayed me and left me out for dead.”

He didn’t say anything as he strolled by your side. A little ways away from you, there was a stream that flowed through the countryside. You had never seen anything more beautiful in your entire life. The grass was bright green and the sky was filled with the color of purple.

“I should be mad that he betrayed me like this…” You muttered as you closed your eyes and breathed in the air. “I should get revenge for the things he did to me but…maybe there’s no point. I mean, I survived. I was actually saved by a kind stranger and now I’m on my way to find my own happily ever after. What more could I possibly want?”

Yeosang stopped walking and turned to face you. “Y/N?”

You opened your eyes and turned to face him. He studied you for a moment before reaching out and caressing your cheek. “Everything happens for a reason, Y/N.” He said softly. “I don’t understand why things worked out the way they did but sometimes, there’s a bigger picture that we can’t see. Maybe your life with the crown prince wasn’t meant to be. Maybe it was meant to lead you here instead.”

Your heart skipped a beat as he gently brushed his thumb across your cheek. His fingers were soft and warm against your skin. You couldn’t remember feeling so safe and secure in a very long time.

“Wherever you end up, I hope you find what you’re looking for, Y/N.” He smiled. “Just don’t forget that I’m always here if you need me.”

“I won’t.” You mumbled. “I promise.”

“Good.” He wrapped his arm around your shoulders. “Now let’s go explore the countryside, shall we?”

Over the next few months, you enjoyed yourself immensely while exploring the country. Sometimes you would spend time with the people of the village, sometimes you would sit by the stream and admire the beauty of nature. You also made sure to heal properly. While it hurt like hell, the pain eventually faded away as you healed. The scars across your chest still remained but you decided not to focus on that. Instead, you focused on the things you were thankful for.

One night, while lying in bed, you started to think about everything that had happened to you over the last few months. About everything you went through and about the one person that helped you every step of the way. You sighed as you drifted off to sleep, wondering if he was thinking about you right now too.

Hours later, you heard footsteps approach your bedroom. A knock sounded at the door followed by a muffled voice.

“Y/N?” You heard a familiar male voice call out. “Are you awake?”

“Yes.” You answered.

A few moments passed before the door opened and Yeosang peeked inside, giving you a small smile.

“Hey.” He said softly.

“Hi.” You smiled back, stretching your arms above your head.

“How are you feeling?” He asked.

You rolled onto your side and faced him. “Much better.” You sighed. “I can’t believe how fast I got better.”

“That’s what healing herbs are for.” Yeosang nodded. “Sometimes, they work faster than we expect.”

“Yeah, maybe.” You shrugged. “Speaking of which, I thought I would repay you for helping me.”

“What do you mean?”

“Since you helped me recover so quickly, I wanted to give you something in return.” You reached out and placed your hand on his cheek. “These past few months with you have been the best of my life. Even though we haven’t known each other very long, you’ve already become such an important part of my life. I’ve never been so at peace and happy all these years. If I could, I would have never let you go.”

His eyes softened as he stared deeply into yours. “Y/N, I-”

“Don’t.” You interrupted. “Don’t say anything yet. Let me do this.”

You leaned forward and pressed your lips to his, gently kissing him. He froze for a moment before returning the kiss. When the kiss ended, you slowly sat up, a smile on your face.

“I wanted to do this because…” You took a deep breath. “Because I want to thank you. For being such a good person. And for saving me.”

“Don’t mention it.” Yeosang replied, reaching out and pulling you close to him.

As the weeks went by, you and Yeosang continued spending most of your days together. Some days you would sit by the stream, talking or drinking tea while others you would explore the land. On those days, you’d venture far away from the village and walk along the endless grasslands. Sometimes, you’d stop and pick flowers for him to give to the women of the village or make you a meal to show his appreciation. Other times, you’d rest under a tree and watch the sun rise. You spent almost every day with him and loved every second of it.

You knew that you were falling for him but you weren’t quite sure when it had happened. All you knew was that one day, it hit you and you knew that you had moved on from the crown prince, from your old life and had found someone that made you feel whole again. It was hard to describe what you felt for him. All you knew was that he made you happier than anyone else in the world and that he was the one you had been searching for.

Over the next few weeks, the two of you grew closer and closer. Each day, you became even more attached to each other. After a few weeks, you noticed the affection between the two of you growing stronger and stronger. The villagers still saw you as a married couple and never failed to tease you whenever they saw you together. But you didn’t mind it. In fact, you relished in their teasing. It was proof that you had finally found true happiness.

When winter came around, you celebrated the first snowfall together. With a grin on his face, Yeosang scooped up a handful of snow and flicked it at your face. The cold water stung your skin but you simply giggled and reached out, grabbing another handful of snow. This continued until the both of you were covered in snow and laughter. You threw your arms around him, hugging him tightly.

“This is going to be a wonderful winter.” You whispered, resting your chin on his shoulder.

“I agree.” He chuckled, placing his arm around your waist.

After a few minutes, you broke apart, grinning from ear to ear.

“We should go inside.” You said, brushing some of the snow off of your coat. “I’m getting cold.”

Yeosang grabbed your hand. “I know a good way to warm you up.”

Your heart began beating rapidly as he led you inside. Yeosang lit up the fireplace and threw several logs inside. Once the fire was burning well, he wrapped a blanket around you and pulled you close to him, sitting on the floor. You snuggled close to him, as he held you, slowly tracing his fingertips down your cheek, letting them linger on your lips.

“So…” He whispered. “What are your plans for the upcoming new year?”

You grinned mischievously. “I don’t really have any.”

“But, if you did have plans, what would they be?”

“Well…” You glanced up at him, chewing on your bottom lip. “They might involve you, I guess.”

“Oh?” Yeosang raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah…” You admitted shyly. “I mean, we’ve been spending so much time together and our feelings seem to be growing deeper everyday. So, I was just curious…”

He cocked his head to the side, studying you for a moment.

“If I kissed you right now, would you kiss me back?” He asked quietly.

You swallowed hard. Your cheeks burned brightly as you lowered your gaze.

“Y-yes.” You whispered.

A smile spread across his face as he reached out and cupped your cheek, gently rubbing his thumb across your skin.

“If I wanted to make love to you, would you allow me to?”

You inhaled sharply as his words washed over you. His eyes searched yours as he waited patiently for your answer. After a few moments, you lifted your head and met his gaze.

“But all my scars… My body is damaged…” You explained, slightly hesitantly.

“I don’t care.” He stated simply. “All that matters is the person behind them. They’re only physical blemishes, nothing more. They don’t define you.”

A lump formed in your throat as he gently traced his fingers along your jawline.

“Besides…” He added, bringing his hand to your lips. “If you’ll allow me to kiss you, I’d gladly kiss away every single scar.”

Your breath caught in your throat as he leaned in closer to you. Slowly, his lips pressed against yours, sending shivers throughout your entire body. It was gentle and tender but filled with such passion and heat. At the same time, his hands caressed your hair and back, making you melt against him. You closed your eyes as you basked in the warmth of his touch. You could feel his heartbeat steadily racing against your own as his tongue explored your mouth. Every brush sent tingles coursing through your veins. Every kiss seemed to last longer than the last. As the seconds ticked by, the both of you became lost in the moment. Time ceased to exist as you became completely consumed by the sensation of being in each other’s arms. Eventually, the two of you parted, gasping for air.

“Let me make love to you.” He whispered.

You gazed into his eyes, lust swirling within them. “Please.” You breathed. “Make love to me.”

Yeosang slowly got up and picked you up in his arms, cradling you against his chest. As he walked towards the bedroom, he lowered you down to the bed and carefully removed your boots. Before removing your clothes, he reached out and brushed a strand of hair out of your face.

“My beautiful Y/N.” He murmured, gazing down at you.

With a soft smile, he began untying your blouse, sliding it down your arms. You turned your head to look at him as he gently removed your top and slipped it over your shoulders. Next, he slowly undid the buttons on your skirt and slid it down your legs, letting it fall to the ground. He gently stroked your skin with his fingertips, his touch caressing the scar on your chest. He leaned down to kiss it before capturing your lips once more. Once he broke away, he stared deeply into your eyes, taking in your beauty.

You watched him intently as he slipped his shirt off and then unclasped his pants. As he lowered himself onto the bed, he captured your lips once more, holding you tightly against him. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer as he ran his hands up and down your body. He kissed every inch of your body, slowly trailing kisses down your neck and chest. The sound of your heart pounding in your ears was music to his ears as he paid special attention to every little detail.

When he reached your breasts, his lips followed, kissing every inch of them before moving lower, causing goosebumps to form on your skin. He circled his tongue around your nipple before sucking it softly into his mouth. You moaned in pleasure, running your hands through his hair as he gave you pleasure like no other. When he started sucking on your other breast, your body arched up into him. A few minutes later, you broke apart, breathless and flushed.

“Yeosang…” You breathed. “Please.”

With a smirk on his face, he kissed his way down your stomach. When he reached your navel, he traced his finger along it, causing you to shiver.

“Your body is perfect.” He breathed. “Just how I imagined it to be.”

He trailed kisses further south, giving you a taste of things to come. When he reached your thighs, he ran his fingers up and down them before lifting your leg and placing it on his shoulder. You bit your lip as you watched him trace circles on your inner thigh. He then placed a trail of kisses down your inner thigh, giving you chills as he slowly inched closer to where you throbbed with need. He stopped suddenly and looked up at you with dark, lustful eyes.

“Do you trust me?” He asked.

With a trembling voice, you nodded your head. “Of course I do.”

“Good.” He breathed. “Because I plan on exploring every inch of this body tonight.”

His hand moved back up your thigh, moving closer to your core as his tongue glided up your center, licking every inch of your clit, causing you to moan loudly. The vibrations echoed through your body as his tongue continued its slow pace. His hands moved from your thighs to your hips, holding you firmly in place as his tongue teased and tantalized your sensitive flesh. You trembled uncontrollably as he increased the intensity of his kisses, increasing the speed of his movements. Soon, you couldn’t take it anymore and began thrashing your head back and forth on the pillow, moaning louder and louder with every thrust of his tongue.

“You taste amazing.” He whispered. “And your scent is intoxicating.”

As he continued to feast on your pussy, you felt yourself building up toward an orgasm. Sensation after sensation flowed through your body, intensifying your pleasure until you could barely breathe. Your breathing quickened as your body tensed and shook. You cried out as you came undone beneath him.

You lay there panting, trying to catch your breath as he continued to eat you out, enjoying the taste of your juices. You slowly opened your eyes and gazed at him with loving eyes.

“I can’t believe I’ve never experienced anything like this before.” You gasped.

Yeosang smiled widely as he took a deep breath. “Are you saying that I might be a better lover than the crown prince?”

“Shhh…let’s not talk about him.” You giggled. “I want to keep enjoying this feeling for as long as possible.”

With a devilish grin, he shifted positions and began lightly kissing his way up your body to the scar on your chest. “Does it still hurt?” He asked.

“No.” You answered. “Not anymore.”

He pulled back and gazed down at you, a questioning look on his face.

“Not when you’re touching me.” You replied, running your fingers through his hair. “It doesn’t hurt at all when you’re here.”

He chuckled as he gently kissed the scar on your chest. “Then maybe I should stay with you forever.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words. It had been so long since anyone had made you feel loved. In the past, you didn’t even know if it was real or not. But Yeosang showed you that you were worthy of affection. He proved to you that it wasn’t only love that could heal a broken soul; that it was also true friendship and compassion. From the moment he saved you, you knew this man was meant to be in your life. The way he treated you, the way he cared for you, the way he respected you… You knew he was someone very special.

Yeosang kissed your scar one last time before capturing your lips in his. His lips were warm and gentle as they met yours. You ran your hands up and down his back, holding him tight against you as you surrendered to his touch. He enveloped your body in his strong arms, laying in between your legs as he continued to explore every inch of your body. With each kiss, his hands drifted lower, feeling every curve and fold of your skin. With every caress, he held back his excitement, wanting to make sure you enjoyed every second of this moment. Every ounce of his passion poured out as he laid claim to every part of you, leaving you spent and breathless.

“Can I…?” He murmured against your neck. “Can I finally be inside you? Make sweet love to you?”

“Yes.” You breathed. “Please.”

Slowly, he pushed his way inside you. You let out a moan as you gripped his back. Each stroke caused another rush of pleasure to spread through your body. Every movement caused you to shudder and shake, calling out his name over and over again. He kept a slow pace, careful to not hurt your body any further. Every movement caused a new wave of pleasure to wash over you, threatening to send you over the edge. He knew that your body still needed time to heal, and therefore, would wait patiently until you were ready for more.

After several minutes of gentle lovemaking, he lifted his head and gazed into your eyes. Your cheeks were flushed and covered in sweat, yet you still radiated an aura of pure beauty.

“This feels right, Y/N.” He said. “I’m glad I found you.”

You smiled lovingly at him. “I’m glad you found me too.”

For the first time in years, you felt safe. For the first time in years, you felt truly loved. For the first time in years, you felt whole. You held onto him tightly as he continued to slowly thrust in you, savoring every last minute. This was your first time experiencing this type of intimacy and you wanted to remember every single detail.

Yeosang’s face lit up with delight as he felt you tighten around him. Both of you grew increasingly aroused as your bodies began pulsating with pleasure. You clenched your muscles tightly around him as you arched your back, begging for more.

“You sure?” Yeosang asked. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“It’s fine. Please, Yeosang.” You begged. “I need more of you. More of everything.”

His expression softened as he leaned down and kissed you passionately. At the same time, he slowly picked up his pace, thrusting harder and faster as your screams filled the room. He plunged deeper inside of you, filling you completely. Every inch of your being became alive, as your entire body quivered in ecstasy.

In response, he wrapped his arms around you, clutching you close to his body as he panted heavily, lost in the throes of passion. Every time he hit bottom, you clenched him tighter, crying out his name. Together, both of you shared your greatest moment together. Every ounce of happiness you had ever felt was released during this intense experience. And when the climax subsided, neither of you wanted to let go. You slowly began rocking back and forth with him, falling deeper and deeper under his spell. Eventually, he leaned down and captured your lips in a tender kiss, whispering in your ear.

“Thank you.” He breathed. “For staying alive. For making me fall in love with you.”

You gazed into his beautiful eyes as he gently rocked you against him. The love and warmth that radiated from his gaze overwhelmed you. “Thank you.” You whispered back. “For saving my life. For helping me see what true love really means. For letting me live and breathe once more.”

Yeosang tightened his embrace around you as you nuzzled your face against his chest. His strong arms held you securely as you closed your eyes, basking in the warmth of his embrace. You listened to his heartbeat as it slowly calmed, and as you did, your own heart began to beat slower and slower. It was as if you had become one person, one mind, one heart. As you drifted off to sleep, both of you fell asleep holding one another.

In his arms, you found peace, contentment, and most importantly…love.

[pigeonpeach]

How they would handle a drunk spouse

Warning! ALCOHOL!

Characters: Jean, Diluc, Dehya, Eula, Arlecchino, Navia, Shenhe

A/n: this is a draft that i just fixed up to post. I promise jean x reader will not be forgotten

Cw: fluff, alcoholism. No warnings aside from alcohol!

Jean

She knew Kaeya was a bad influence! Its not entirely his fault but she doesn’t have time to care about your mistake here. You can try to sweet talk her or be all cuddly but shes not holding back on you! You should’ve known better than to get this drunk if you didn’t want to make her worried sick! She goes into overdrive caring for you though. A bucket and water telling you to drink every drop. You aren’t going to bed until she’s sure you feel better because she doesn’t want to wake up to vomit everywhere. Also because you could choke on your own vomit. Its also to help lessen the hangover. Mondstadt is the drinking capital in Teyvat though so there’s definitely more tips she knows just by living there. Despite her being s but mean it does help when you are hungover and less dehydrated than you would’ve been. She made sure to leave you some painkillers and medication for you on the nightstand.

Diluc

“I told you so” kind guy. He’s probably a bit annoyed but that doesn’t mean he isn’t going to help. Although he can’t help but find it a little bit amusing the state you’re in. Just giggling and mumbling words. Its kind of cute. Unlike Jean his anger and annoyance lessens the more cuddly you get. His heart melting at the fact that you still seek him out in this inebriated state of yours. He’ll fix you something to sober you up real quick and hold your hair if you vomit. If you have to take a bath he will be there to make sure you don’t drown. Since he is a bartender he has the best knowledge of how to handle hangovers. Next time however you should be careful

Eula

She probably was drinking with you to be honest. But her liver is far stronger than you thought! Seeing you drunk out of your mind she will stop drinking for the night and take you home instead. A gentle bridal style while she takes caution to not upset your tummy. She gets you plenty of water to help sober you up for bed time. You will just have to go along with her word, she isnt entertaining any arguments or resistance from you now! She changes you out of your clothes, ties up your hair, etc. She makes sure you’re nice and cozy for the night before she takes care of herself.

Dehya

She can’t help but find it amusing watching you stumble about. She asks Lambad for some water but she holds it to you so you won’t drop it. She teases you about being a lightweight. But she isn’t finished drinking yet so just hold on! Once you fall over and pass out though she ditches that plan and instead carries you home. A bit difficult considering she too is tipsy but it helps that she’s strong and not nearly as drunk. Nonetheless she tucks you in and sleeps right next to you, making sure you’re pressed up against her so you can be nice and warm.

Arlecchino

She knew you would be a light weight. Just one shot of firewater and you’re out like a light, your head on her thigh as she was reading something. You seem too peaceful to move so she simply lets you stay there. Her hand rummaging through your hair every so often. Occasionally she glances to see your face and smiles. You’re cute like this. Next time she’ll make sure to dilute the firewater properly so she an enjoy your drunken state a little more.

Shenhe

She’s not sure what to do with you actually. Worried that you’ve hit your head she brings you to Bubu pharmacy, to which Baizhu has to explain the difference between a head injury and alcohol. But he sends her off with a few pain meds for you in the morning. She heeds his instructions well. Helping you settle in for a nice rest to sleep it off. She might have gone overboard though because she overdoes it with the blankets and water. But its still appreciated when you wake up with the worst hangover.

Beidou

You crash together. You fall asleep first, in her arms as she eventually falls asleep too , holding you close to her. Both drunk out of your minds you two end up asleep using a tarp as a blanket on the deck of the crux. The crew still mulling and celebrating their most recent success. The crew ends up having to lift you two back to your beds together because even unconscious would Beidou not let go of you. When you wake up she’s far better off than you as she teases you endlessly. Needless to say you two will be chugging water from here on out. At least until the next celebration. Lucky for you she keeps a stash of painkillers for her crew for this specific occasion.

Navia

A relentless teaser! How horrible! She ends up giggling watching you stumble and stutter. She can’t help it! You’re such a silly bean! Once you get sleepy is when she brings you home to rest. With her guards doing the heavy lifting of course. But she’ll do the bathing or changing herself with them casted out of the room. Afterwards she prepares herself for bed, snuggling against you.

In the morning she’ll make her guards get you painkillers and water.

[thlayli-ra]

Punkintyre; a twisted love story

As anyone who follows my blog knows, I like posting my headcanons and LOVE posting about Punkintyre, and yet the two have never met... until now! This will be very long and probably split into different parts as I have a lot to say about them. So sit, back, relax and enjoy.

***Please note; this is all my own personal headcanons just for a bit of fun***

Punkintyre, at its core, is a story of obsession, possession and hate. Fiercely passionate hate. The kind of hate that consumes the soul entirely, and once it has destroyed the vessel, it goes on to destroy everything else around it.

But above all, to me, the essence of Punkintyre is that it's a story of unrequited love.

To understand this better, let's look at the players in this ship;

Drew McIntyre - 'You complete me!'

By the close of 2023, Drew was already a good girl gone bad. Having been a popular babyface for years, his attitude had noticeably changed after a series of disappointing losses, becoming more aggressive, ruthless and caring only about himself. The crowd didn't like this new direction and were rapidly turning on him.

Then hell froze over! CM Punk made his glorious return.

And Drew had an epiphany! Here was a true villain, a man currently looming beneath a large, dark cloud. A cancer. A disease, threatening to infect the WWE with his sickness. At the Royal Rumble, he targeted Punk and injured him, putting him out on the shelf for months. Drew basked in his triumph, calling himself the Saviour of Wrestlemania and waited with anticipation for his flowers. Because, if there was one thing that was guaranteed, it was that everybody hated Punk far more than they hated Drew.

Except... they didn't! The mindless drones had already been swayed by the lies of the wolf in sheep's clothing, had already fallen for Punk and his cult of personality. Drew made it his mission to wake them up; to rip that smiling mask off of Punk's face and expose the putrid flesh beneath, show them all the monster that Punk truly was.

To do this, he used the same weapon that caused Punk's downfall in AEW; social media. He constantly mocked and prodded at Punk, hoping to elicit a reaction from the notoriously thin-skinned veteran. He got plenty; but only from the fans. Not from the one he craved! So he pushed harder. Vandalised his signature ringer tee, used Punk's own move set, his entrance, visited his favourite bakery in his beloved hometown and bought him muffins.

Soon, he found himself flying high. His popularity had taken a massive up-swing, tongues were wagging, people were sitting up and listening, waiting on tender hooks for his next move. So he fed them, more and more. Taking pot shots at Punk every opportunity he could on every platform at his disposal.

Until Punk had become something else. Something more. Sitting cross-legged on the announce desk opposite the man who had made that particular taunt famous, Drew called him 'my muse', telling Punk that 'you complete me'. And it wasn't a word of a lie. He now needed Punk, needed him like a crutch to lean on. Needed to feed that hate.

Somewhere along the line, Drew's mission had become an obsession. Not for his goal of exposing the man, but for the man himself!

He didn't want to love Punk...

..he needed to!

CM Punk - 'I love you because you love me!'

Punk, meanwhile, is the not-so-innocent innocent in all of this. Punk never wanted all this attention from Drew, calling him 'an ex-girlfriend that I can't get rid of' yet he's the one who's responsible for making Drew's unhealthy infatuation even worse.

Drew accused Punk of being a 'succubus', a sex demon that seduces men and sucks the em... 'life', shall we say, out of them. The metaphor fits well. Punk has a way of seducing those around him, both in the crowd and in the back, sometimes even to the point of insanity (a certain Maxwell Jacob Friedman immediately comes to mind!). Punk fans affectionally refer to it as Punk Derangement Syndrome.

Punk once told a crowd 'I love you because you love me'. He lives for the adoration! He feeds off of the spotlight and the attention it affords him, soaking up any and all reactions from the crowd. Cheer him, boo him, love him, hate him; so long as it's loud, he'll take it. Unlike Cody who struggled with the hate at AEW, Punk faced against the waves and waves of boos battering him from all sides with a shit-eating grin on his face, doing his worst to up the noise even more.

And this is precisely why he just can't drop this petty tit-for-tat with Drew. The man's obsession with him is feeding Punk, and while his attention is a nuisance at best - and dangerous at worst - it's just not in Punk's nature to be the bigger man and let it die. He has to keep poking the bear even if it might tear his face off (which, it eventually does, but we'll get to that Smackdown later).

And so the players are locked into battle. Neither of them willing participants but their respective obsessions have honed in on one another, fingers on the trigger and aching to fire, neither taking heed of who they hurt along the way.

To be continued...

Part 2

[thenotsofantasticlifestory]

AFAB!Reader x Eustass Kid

Word Count: 3.7K

A/N: Finally the smut part back from this post. Pegging Kid, fem!dom, sub!Kid, Overstimulation, Facesitting, if you peg Kid you automatically get a higher bounty than him lol

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

It was about four drinks in when Kid decided he’d had enough. 

Here he was, sitting amongst the crew in an after-battle party at some poor tavern they’d taken over for the night, and plenty were already deep into their cups. He was sitting next to Killer who was quick to notice Kid’s continuous staring in your direction, a faint blush on his cheeks as he downed another mug of ale. Kid wanted you. More explicitly he wanted you to fuck him the way you had a few nights ago tackling him into submission as he lost himself on your fake cock. Despite far too many people being around, Kid felt the need for it burning deep in his gut. The sound of a mug slamming onto the table caught his attention as he turned to Killer.

“Your staring is getting a bit creepy Kid,” he said. 

Kid scowled, tearing his eyes off you and refilling his mug, “None of your business…”

Killer’s eyes went from you, drinking merrily with another few of the crew members, to Kid, looking like a blushing wet sop of a man and Killer had to know what could’ve brought his captain to this level. 

“What exactly did they do to make you so whipped all of the sudden?”

Kid took another drink, his eyes surveyed around him to make sure he and his friend wouldn’t be overheard as the alcohol was making him honest. Once satisfied no one could eavesdrop he mumbled something out to Killer.

“What?” Killer replied.

“I said-” Kid’s hand ran through his hair, fighting to cover the red that flushed to the tips of his ears, “I let Y/N peg me…”

Killer merely sat back with a sigh, “Oh, is that it?”

Kid snapped up, staring incredulously at his friend trying to decipher the expression behind his mask.

“What do you mean ‘is that it?’” 

Killer shrugged, “Honestly, I’m surprised it took you this long to try it,” he took a sip through his straw facing Kid, “It’s great huh?”

Kid gaped for a moment before he found his voice, “...You mean you-?”

Even through the mask Kid could see the look his friend was giving him, he knew him too well.

“Of course, I mean why not, plus it feels amazing,” he said. 

Kid eyed him as he continued to drink through the straw before Kid took his own drink to his lips, draining the mug and setting it resolutely on the table. He rose and made his way over to you. It didn’t matter that you were mid conversation, once Kid plucked you from where you were sitting and threw you over his shoulder, the others knew better than to interfere.  He stayed mute to your protestations as he carried you outside the bar, setting you back on the ground before him, hands on your shoulders.

“Do you have your stuff?” he asked.

“What? What stuff?”

Kid ran a hand through his hair, “You know…the stuff that you used on me a few nights ago…?” Kid hoped he could make his point without explicitly saying it. He was still too worried about some drunk crew member listening in. Fortunately, you caught on quickly.

“Oh, that stuff,” the grin that stretched your lips already was sending a flush down his neck, “It’s in my room on the ship…why?” you added coyly.

Kid huffed, “Don’t make me say it…”

You leaned into him now, pressing lightly into his chest as a finger trailed down the solid mass of muscle, “Use your words Kid, you have to tell me what you want.”

Kid bit back the whimper that threatened to spill out, biting at his lip, eyes darting for any unknowing listeners.

“I want…you to fuck me…”

“Fuck you where Kid?”

His eyes closed, fighting the words but knowing exactly what you wanted to hear and that you wouldn’t cave until he said it.

“Fuck me…in my ass…”

He knew he had done good when he was rewarded with your lips pressing against his, a hand curled into his red locks as he moved against our mouth for a while, soft smacking sounds outside the rambunctious bar. When you broke apart Kid could already feel himself starting to harden. Your eyes caught an inn across the way and you motioned toward it.

“Go get us a room, I’ll get what we need and meet you there,” you gave him a brief peck before running back toward the ship. 

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

“Fuck are you going to fuck me or what?” 

Kid lay on the bed, completely nude, mechanical arm slouched off to the side while you gave loving attention to his cock, taking your time licking and sucking as your fingers danced along his hard length. 

“Patience Kid,” you nipped delicately at his shaft resulting in a hissed curse, “let me enjoy myself for a bit here.”

Kid’s head fell back onto the mattress with a huff, “You’re being a tease…”

You laughed, sending a long slow lick to the vein on the underside of his shaft, enjoying the way he twitched under the ministration, “so you can dish it out but you can’t take it?”

This clearly struck a nerve as Kid shot you a look, “I can take it just fine! Problem is that you’re not giving it yet!”

You pulled back up to a seated position and Kid’s eyes darted down to the thick cock strapped to your body. It wasn’t even fair to look this hot with a fake cock standing from you and Kid felt himself lick his lips. Something hit him on the chest and he looked down to see the small bottle of lube you’d tossed to him. 

“Alright Kid, you want it so bad you’ll have to show me.”

Kid paused, “What?”

You settled yourself comfortably, a loose hand fisting the silicon cock in a tempting manner, “Prep yourself, your fingers are bigger than mine anyway,” a smile tugged at your lips.

Kid had the decency to blush, fumbling for something to say before you leaned forward, taking the bottle and emptying some of the contents onto his fingers, spreading the slick around the thick digits. 

“You’ve fingered me plenty of times, you’ll figure it out,” even as you started to guide his hand between his own legs, Kid felt any resistance draining away despite the embarrassed flush on his cheeks. Damn you, who knew you were so sneaky? Working him up just enough to the point of no return where you knew he couldn’t say no even if he tried. You pushed one of his fingers against his entrance and Kid inhaled sharply, feeling your hand leave his as you sat back, a dark smile on your face.

“Give me a good show, Eustass.”

Kid huffed, shooting daggers at you with his glare before falling back onto the bed. Fine, you wanted a show? He could play along, just as long as he got what he was so desperately craving in the end. 

The pad of his finger traced his entrance, spreading the slick there as Kid contemplated the feeling. He’d never done this to himself before and using his own fingers had him a bit more hesitant, they were bigger after all. 

“Well?” you prompted.

Kid slipped a finger inside, biting back the little gasp that wanted to leave his lips, he didn’t want you to have the satisfaction just yet if he could help it. The first thing he noticed was how hot and tight he felt on the inside and a shudder ran through him, before pumping the finger experimentally. From this angle he knew if he wanted to get a better feel he’d have to spread his legs wider but feeling your eyes watching his every move had him feeling stubborn and frankly a little bratty. He continued to pump inside himself, the unfamiliar feeling slowly melting into pleasure as he felt his body betray him, legs widening of their own accord and he didn’t miss the hum of approval you gave in response. 

“Add another finger Kid, you’ll need it,” you said.

A breathy curse did escape this time, imagining the lengthy girth that was waiting to stretch him out and he slipped another finger in, wincing just for a moment before resuming that steady pumping. He gave an experimental scissor of his fingers and bit his lip, still not wanting to show you how turned on he was already, but the breath was coming in harder through his nostrils. He pumped in deep, relishing the tight feeling of flesh around his fingers and realized he needed more lube. 

You seemed to anticipate this, taking the bottle from the side and settling between Kid’s legs.

“Let me.”

You squeezed a generous amount onto him and Kid could feel the coolness hit his entrance still stretched around his fingers and shivered. He gave a few more thrusts, collecting the slick and using it to aid in slipping a third finger in he hoped you hadn’t noticed but the grin on your face quickly told him you had and he flushed at his own eagerness. 

“Doing such a good job Kid,” the slick squelching sound of his own fingers was loud to his ears as you drank in the sight, “how does it feel?”

Kid took a shaky inhale, working to keep his voice steady, “Feels good…”

He felt your fingers slowly stroking his hard cock and a moan bubbled out of his throat at the stimulation. 

“But you want more don’t you?” 

Kid wanted so badly to whine but he nodded his head instead, hoping that would be enough to appease you. He didn’t know how much more teasing he could handle and he felt as you removed his hand from inside him, your own fingers tracing along his sensitive inner thighs and he felt goosebumps erupt over his skin.

“What do you want Kid?”

He groaned, “You…”

“Kid,” your voice took a slight edge, pushing him to explain further and Kid felt the heat that rushed his face before he finally choked out.

“I want your cock…”

He heard the slick spread of lube across the phallus and shivered.

“Good boy,” you said, finally lining up with his entrance.

The first push in had him gasping, the fat head of the cock slipping easily inside as he felt that burning stretch that spread heat from the base of his spine. His still slick hand tangled into the sheets as he felt you work your way inside him, every gentle thrust deeper in sent fire through his body. He felt when you bottomed out, hips flush against his as you spread his legs wider to better nudge yourself inside him. This was what he had been missing, this feeling of being so stretched and filled and he swore he could feel the cock all the way up to his throat with how deep you were seated into him.

“Fuck you take it so well Kid,” you breathed out.

Kid gave a hard exhale, hips nudging against your encouraging you to move already and he bit his lip as he felt you pull nearly all the way out. Once you snapped your hips back into his, a groan ripped from his throat. You pulled out again, almost lazily before thrusting back in hard and kept a slow hard pace of fucking into him. Kid could feel the moans that spilled out of his throat with each thrust, eyes closing to lose himself in the pleasure of it. You leaned forward and he felt you take his chin in your hand.

“Eyes on me, Kid,” punctuating this with a hard thrust inside him.

Kid felt himself flush but obeyed, keeping his eyes locked to yours and when the next moan came spilling from his lips he was suddenly all too aware of your intense gaze on him.

“Fuck, harder,” he breathed, trying to turn his head away, the eye contact too much in his vulnerable state but you gripped his jaw hard, forcing him back and Kid felt his eyes crack open of their own accord.

“Good boy,” you said.

You sped up the pace, fucking into him earnestly now and Kid was breathing hard, head falling back and you let him stare up into the ceiling as you gained better purchase to push his legs farther back. He felt his hips strain against the angle but the way the cock was tightly hugged inside him had tears pricking his eyes. You hit just the right angle and Kid’s hand slapped at the sheet.

“Fuck! Right there!” he gasped.

You gave a low breathy chuckle, adjusting your hips before driving forward again and sending stars into Kid’s vision, relishing in the strangled moan he gave.

“Hold your leg back for me Kid.”

With just one arm, he managed to wrap it around his thigh, keeping a leg back, but it was enough you could hold his other leg while still draping yourself forward onto him with your free arm. Kid felt his hips be pushed further back, the cock grinding and pressing against that sweet spot deep inside him while you adjusted yourself. You saw the way he was squirming, hips lightly jutting to press back against you, to pull you in even deeper while you were already flush against him.

“So eager Kid,” you cooed.

He tried to growl but only a breathy whine escapes him, surprised when your free hand suddenly found purchase in his red locks and pulled hard. With his head pulled back, you left harsh little nips against the thick column of his throat, feeling his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed thickly. Your lips found his and he responds eagerly, mouth open and wanting between the heated pants that puff from him.

“Such a good boy,” you pulled back to let him breathe, seeing the way his lipstick was already smearing, “you like being filled and fucked like this?”

Another shot to his prostrate rips a filthy moan from Kid as he manages to breathe out a weak but emphatic, “Yes.”

Kid was blind to the smirk that painted your own lips, too lost in the haze of his own pleasure as your hips pounded into him, relentlessly torturing that bundle of nerves deep inside him and soon enough he could feel the hot coil in the pit of his stomach building quick. He opened his mouth to give some kind of warning but found your tongue tangling with his as you devoured the words. Another hard thrust inside him and the coil snapped, a series of breathy moans bubbling against your lips as he felt himself cum. You paused only for a second, Kid’s sudden release without his cock having even been touched caught you off guard, but you soon snapped back into action, burying your cock deep inside him and letting him ride out the orgasm. Once he collapsed bonelessly into the mattress you stilled inside him, allowing him to briefly catch his breath as you gave a peck to his cheek.

“Holy fuck…” is all Kid can manage out.

Still reeling from the effects of his orgasm, Kid doesn’t notice you settling back, keeping an iron grip on his thighs until you thrust harshly into him again. His head snapped back in a silent gasp, body still oversensitive and before he can think of what to say, you’re fucking into him at a relentless pace.

Moans and sobs spilled freely from him as you pressed him harder into the mattress, hips snapping into his already abused hole. His free hand grips the sheets before quickly moving to clutch at his face, eyes snapping shut as tears prick at the corners.

“Fuck-fuck! W-wait it’s too much…!” he felt his voice crack on the last word, before dissolving back into unintelligible whimpers as you pummel into his prostate. His body felt like it was burning, every nerve was still singed from his last orgasm and the pleasure is nearly to the point of pain from his overloaded senses. Still, he doesn’t want you to stop.

“Come on Kid,” you huffed from the exertion but not once slowing down, a bead of sweat trickling from your brow, “I know you’ve got one more for me.”

Kid managed to pry his fingers away from his eyes, feeling the intense heat on his face and saw his cock was already hard again, slapping against his stomach from the force of each thrust, smearing the mess of cum still on his abs. He’s not sure how much more of this he can take as he feels the beginning coil in the pit of his stomach start to tighten again. Then you wrapped your hand around his cock and started pumping in harsh jerks.

Kid wasn’t sure if he screamed but he can feel his vocal cords fray as sounds spill forth against the onslaught of pleasure. Finally feeling the delicious squeeze as you fist his cock in time with every powerful thrust has him spiraling quicker than he would have imagined. You saw the way his body began to tighten, focusing on the sensitive head of his cock with tight, hard strokes.

“That’s it Kid, now cum for me.”

The sultry pitch of your commanding voice, combined with the harsh treatment of his prostate and cock has him cumming even harder the second time. Thick ropey spurts of semen shot forward, further painting his stomach and chest as Kid gives a strangled sob, hand clutching at his face as he feels his head swim in a delirious lightness. You milked him roughly, teasing wave after wave of spend dribbling down your hand and covering his stomach. Kid was wheezing, taking air in big gulps as you finally feel him soften and release him. You worked the thick phallus gently out of Kid, who keens at the loss, before discarding it off to the side. Kid may have been spent but you weren’t letting him off the hook until you came at least once.

You crawled over his body before virtually sitting on his face.

“You know what to do.”

Kid was still dazed, his eyes hazy, but he complied obediently, hand coming forward to steady your waist as he brought his large tongue forward to delve into your wet folds. Groaning at the excess of slick, Kid doesn’t waste time burying his face into your cunt. Your hand gripped his hair, motioning him deeper into you as you rocked your hips against his face, Kid moaning at the action. The room was loud with lewd squelching sounds as Kid buried his tongue into you, grinding against your pelvis, the bridge of his crooked nose rubbing against your clit. He ate you out like a man starved, hand gripping at your waist with what little energy he has left. You could hear the muffled little moans of pleasure from beneath you as you allow your head to tilt back in bliss.

“Doing so good Kid, just a little more,” you rocked against him, nearly suffocating him but he’s undeterred, pulling your further down on top of him just to taste more of you. You’ve never seen him so ravenous, and as he works his ample tongue inside you, you can feel your orgasm coming up fast.

You cursed, feeling your body tighten as you hit your high, thrusting Kid’s face deeper into your cunt, but he takes it in stride, feeling you clench and drip around him as he works you through your orgasm. Once you rode it out, the tingling in your body starting to fade, you pulled off of Kid with a wet sound before flopping onto the side to take him in.

He looked positively ruined, chest still heaving and covered with his spend while his lipstick was smeared with your own slick that dribbled down his chin. You smiled down at him, Kid’s eyes, still hazy but starting to regain some semblance of focus, found yours and a grin pulled at his lips. You gave a kiss to his sweaty forehead before rising to find a towel to clean him off with.

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

The next morning, as they checked out Kid couldn’t help but notice the way the frenzied innkeeper kept darting glances at him, eyes wide. Maybe she recognized him from the wanted posters? The thought of it made him smirk with pride.

“Was everything- uhm- satisfactory?” The innkeeper asked. 

“Yes, very much so,” you replied, unphased by the curious glances the woman kept shooting towards Kid. 

The woman chewed her lip before speaking again, “I-I only ask because…well…some of the staff were worried something might have happened…”

That caught both of your attentions as the two of you fix her with a questioning look.

“Well, your- um…” she motioned a hand toward Kid indicating him, “he was, well, quite loud…the groaning and screams, we were just worried maybe he was hurt or worse…”

Your eyes widened and it took everything you had to bite back the smirk that wanted to split your face, especially on seeing the way Kid flushed down to his neck in a horrified stupor. Before you could respond, Kid slapped some money, more than enough to cover the cost of the night but he doesn’t seem to notice, quickly on the table before grasping you by the shoulders and hurrying you both out the door. Once in the street, Kid takes a steadying breath before he turned toward the docks.

“Let’s get back to the ship,” he started marching off but even from behind you can see his ears burning. You caught up quickly to him, a shit eating grin on your face as you stared expectantly into his flushed face. Kid refused to meet your eyes, lips pouting as he keeps his gaze forward but he can feel the satisfaction coming off you in waves.

“Next time I’ll just have to gag you, won’t I?” you said.

Kid nearly tripped over, shooting a scowl as you laugh at him good naturedly, but he has to admit, the idea of it appeals to him.

[sluttywonwoo]

instead of you [part thirty-three] || l.mh

pairing: [best friend’s brother] lee minho x college!reader ft. han jisung

summary: you didn’t expect to spend your summer pretending to be your best friend’s girlfriend- then again, you didn’t expect to fall for your best friend’s brother, either. 

warnings: swearing, angst, discussions of plane disasters, mentions of sex (mdni ; 18+)

word count: 3k

a/n: revamped my tom holland series from my main blog ( @wazzupmrstark ) to try and motivate myself to finish it!!

additional a/n: disclaimer that this chapter and the following chapters take place on oahu and kauai, hawai'i. i wrote this a year ago (originally posted on sept. 22, 2022) and included mentions of the negative impact and sentiment tourism in hawai'i procures, but it was before the fires in maui. i included hawai'i in their vacation in the first place because i'm part hawaiian and wanted to bring attention to our people's attitude toward tourists while also writing about the parts of the islands that i grew up loving. and i thought i should clarify that before posting, as i feel the context is important to precede what would be an otherwise distasteful choice if i had written this now. please keep hawai'i in your thoughts, mahalo plenty <3

series masterlist | early access to the next chapter on ko-fi

Predictably, you cried yourself to sleep. You debated over whether or not to tell Minho. He’d probably find out when he woke up in the morning but would he be mad if he didn’t hear it from you? If Jisung was right, he didn’t care about you at all, so why would you grant him the courtesy of a head’s up? You didn’t want to believe Jisung, rather, you wanted to believe that he had only said those things in the heat of the moment but at the end of the day, he knew Minho far better than you did. Whether or not he was telling the truth to try and save you or lying to hurt you was up to you to decipher.

You wound up texting Minho, ‘Jisung knows,’ without any other context and calling it a night. 

The next morning, you woke up to a message from Jisung telling you not to bother getting ready for the day and that he’d be going on without you. It was mostly a relief not to have to put on an act after everything that happened the night before but it also stung.

You weren’t very optimistic about repairing your relationship with Jisung, but any lingering hope vanished when he wouldn’t even look at you in passing in the hallway. 

You spent the entire day in bed, trying to distract yourself with anything you could think of to pass the time. You scrolled through social media until your timelines stopped refreshing with new content. There wasn’t anything interesting enough on TV to pull you out of spiraling so you didn’t even bother trying to find something to hold your attention. 

At one point you remembered the book you were reading but as soon as you opened it you were greeted by all of Jisung’s little annotations he had left for you. He still had your book and you wondered if he would ever finish it now that you’d ruined everything. 

You thought about texting him, just to check in or try and talk about things but you didn’t want to bother him. A couple of times, you almost texted him just out of instinct. You would go to send him a tweet that you thought he’d find funny and then remember.

Minho came by your room that night after dinner when everyone was back from the day’s activities. He knocked twice, letting himself in before you’d even finished telling him he could enter. 

“Care to explain what happened?” he asked, hands on his hips.

You shrugged noncommittally. ��Jisung found out.”

“How? Did you tell him?”

“And ruin my own relationship with my best friend? Yeah, definitely.”

Minho rolled his eyes. “I didn’t come here to argue. I just want to know what happened.”

“Then don’t accuse me of shit.”

“I didn’t mean- I’m sorry. That’s not what I was trying to do.”

You sighed and signaled for him to sit down if he wanted to. He did, perching himself on the edge of the bed cautiously. 

“He knows because he noticed me sneaking out and finally decided to follow me.”

The color drained from Minho’s face. “So he heard-”

You nodded. “I don’t know how much, but enough.”

“Fuck.”

“Fuck is right.”

“He wouldn’t say a word to me today,” Minho said. 

“He wouldn’t even look at me.”

“I guess we knew this would happen eventually.”

“Yeah.”

“We fucked up.”

“Yeah.”

“You were right.”

“What do you mean?” you asked, furrowing your eyebrows.

“We really do deserve each other.”

Oh. What Jisung had said earlier rang through your ears again. 

“I guess I was.”

Just then, the door to the bedroom opened and Jisung walked in, scoffing as he passed his brother. 

“I should have known,” he muttered to himself. 

“Ji, look-” Minho tried, only to be immediately cut off by his younger brother. 

“Don’t. Please just fucking don’t.”

“But-”

“God, you never listen to a word I say, do you? Either of you?”

You wanted to protest that you did listen to him but you thought better of it. It wouldn’t help your case at all. Instead, you sat there silently like a child being scolded. 

“I don’t want to hear you explain yourself,” Jisung continued. “I don’t care why you fucked my best friend. I think the act in itself doesn’t need an explanation.” Minho opened his mouth to respond but Jisung cut him off again. “I don’t want to hear an apology either. I already know you don’t mean it. In fact, I think we’re done here so if you wouldn’t mind getting the fuck out of my room...”

Minho looked like he wanted to argue but likely knew it wouldn’t do any good so he simply hung his head and let himself out, bidding you a quiet goodnight as he left. You didn’t respond. You didn’t even acknowledge him. How could you?

“Don’t forget to pack your things for the flight tomorrow. It’s a long one.”

You sat there, stunned. You hadn’t expected Jisung to speak to you at all, let alone say something amicable. 

“O-ok thanks,” you responded shakily.

“I’m sleeping in here tonight,” he added. 

“Oh-” you scrambled up, preparing to leave but Jisung stopped you. 

“No, I meant with you. It’d look weird if I slept on the couch again.”

Of course. Keeping up appearances.

“Is it even worth it to do this anymore?” you asked. “I mean, it’s falling apart at the seams.”

“It’ll be fine,” Jisung argued. “It’s just a few more weeks.”

“Do you really want to keep pretending to be in love with someone you hate?”

He froze, still bent over his suitcase. Then he straightened up and turned to face you. 

“I don’t hate you.”

“You don’t?”

“No, I don’t think I could ever hate you. I’ve been trying, trust me.”

You weren’t sure how to take that. You weren’t sure how you were supposed to take it. You tried not to let his words stoke the embers of hope you were still clinging on to but it was already proving difficult. 

“Maybe with time,” you suggested. 

He shrugged. “Ready for bed?”

-

You managed to get some sleep, despite everything. It took a while for your heart to calm down as you lay there beside your (ex?) best friend who was already snoring softly. He had fallen asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow. You weren’t sure how he was able to drift off so easily in spite of your whole friendship falling apart but perhaps the stress was only one-sided. 

You were the one being eaten alive by anxiety and guilt. All he had to do was mourn the loss of everything you destroyed. 

The hours of sleep you did get passed quickly without dreams which was unusual for you. Before you knew it, Jisung’s alarm was going off and both of you were groaning as you dragged yourself out of bed. 

You finished packing the rest of your things in relative silence. Neither of you had much to say aside from when you passed each other’s things back and forth from your suitcases. 

The sun had yet to come up when the rest of the Hans gathered in the kitchen with their luggage. Since the flight was over twelve hours long Jisung’s parents had booked the earliest possible departure which just so happened to be before the sunrise. 

The boys slept during the ride to the airport but you weren’t able to. You were squished between Jisung and Minho in the very back of the van, feeling like a pin in a grenade. They ignored each other, of course, both seemingly dead to the world. 

Minho woke up before Jisung. He glanced over at you and offered an expression of sympathy. You just shrugged in response. 

Sitting in the car like that caused your knees to brush up against each other every so often, each time you rounded a corner or went over a speed bump. Every time it happened you fought the urge to meet his eyes. The touch, be it fleeting, made your chest tighten over and over again until you were half-convinced you were going into cardiac arrest. Eventually, Minho gave up trying to give you space and just let his knee rest against yours. Funnily enough, it helped you relax.

“Sorry,” he muttered.

“It’s fine.”

He was so hard to read these days. Not that he was ever easy to read. You couldn’t tell whether or not he liked having his knee there. You weren’t sure why you were getting so caught up on it in the first place.

You longed to hold his hand. You longed to hold Jisung’s hand. But all you could do was sit there in between the two and wait until you finally arrived at the airport. 

Thankfully, Minho was sat with his parents for the flight, which meant you were squeezed in between Jisung and Felix. You gave Jisung the window seat, knowing you wouldn’t get any sleep yourself. He looked like he wanted to argue when you offered it to him but ultimately surrendered when he saw the look in your eyes. You compromised for switching halfway through since the flight was so long but even that seemed to be pushing it for him. 

It was funny how Jisung was still looking out for you after everything you had done. It was as if it was instinctual to him, to put you before himself. The realization almost made you tear up. Had you cared that much for him too? Or was it all one-sided? Either way, you were positive you didn’t deserve him.

-

Dom had chosen Hawai’i as his destination. A controversial choice, given the state of tourism at the moment, but it wasn’t like you had much say in the matter. Jisung had confided in you earlier in the trip that he had tried to talk his father out of it but that he couldn’t be swayed. 

“We might as well try to make the most of it,” you argued. “It’s like a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, right?”

He shrugged. “I guess.”

The flight from Bali to Hawai’i was over twelve hours long which meant that you had roughly six hours to figure out how to entertain yourself before it was time to trade places. You could try to sleep but that meant leaning on Jisung and you were almost positive the last thing he wanted was for you to touch him right now. 

You didn’t feel like paying for the in-flight wi-fi so you had to get creative with how to keep yourself busy. You scrolled through your camera roll for a while but it just made you sad. The pictures from the trip were one thing, but then there were all of the ones of you and Jisung back at school. The further back you went, the happier you seemed. There was no way that was actually true, it was just putting more distance between what had happened in the present from the way things were in the past. That, and you had a tendency to romanticize the past. 

“Did you know flight attendants are trained to take oxygen masks from passengers?”

Felix’s voice from beside you pulled you from your spiral of self-pity almost immediately. You turned to look at him and cocked your head in confusion. 

“What?”

“Like, you know that whole spiel they give you about safety before the plane takes off? And they’re like ‘during the flight, oxygen masks might drop from overhead’?”

“No, I know all of that. Why would they take the masks from passengers? Do they not have their own?”

“They do, but they might need to move around the cabin when that happens in case of an emergency or something, and if that were to be the case, they’re trained to take masks from passengers to oxygenate themselves. They’ll give it back, but in order to do their jobs they might have to borrow one without asking.”

“What if the passenger passes out?”

“Then they’ll be able to help them! Because they’re fully oxygenated.”

You made a face. “I’m glad you’ve got the aisle seat, then.”

Felix shrugged, grinning. “It sounds fucked up, but it’s just logistical. Wanna know something actually fucked up? These seat belts are practically useless.”

“What?” you weren’t sure if you really wanted to know where he was going with this but your morbid curiosity got the better of you once again. “What do you mean?”

“Well, they help with turbulence and stuff but in the event of a crash, these aren’t going to do shit for us. They’re just here to keep us strapped to the seat so they can identify the corpses by looking at the flight log.”

You sat there in stunned silence as the information Felix had just told you sunk in. 

“That is... so dark,” you said finally. 

“Yeah, but isn’t it interesting?”

“I guess, but why did you have to tell me all of this while we’re in the air?”

“Because it’s relevant!”

You sighed and glanced back at Jisung who was asleep and slumped against the window. “Ready to switch?”

It was just a joke but Felix scoffed nonetheless. 

“I’m offended,” he whispered. 

“And I’m traumatized.”

“My bad.”

Somehow, Felix kept you occupied until it was time to switch with Jisung. You lost track of time talking to him about everything and nothing. Out of all of the Han brothers, Felix was the one you knew the least. 

You learned a lot about him in the six and a half hours you sat next to each other. You learned that he, like Jisung, had a passion for photography. He liked anime but manga adaptations always disappointed. He wanted to be a dancer when he was little, just like his big brother. 

When it was Felix’s turn to inquire about you, you were sort of at a loss for words. You had to tread carefully around how much to actually reveal about yourself. When to lie, when to stretch the truth. You were exhausted. It was exhausting. But Jisung had made it clear that this was still important to him despite you not seeing the point anymore. So you played along for his sake. It was the least you could do since you ruined everything else. 

You talked mostly about school, what you were studying, what you wanted to do with your degree... all the small talk that usually took place when you first met a person, not after you’d been traveling with them for over a month. But Felix didn’t know a lot about you interests wise so he listened intently and asked a lot of questions. 

When it was finally time to actually switch, you were half-relieved, half-bummed. Talking with Felix was fun but you hated lying to him. 

Jisung lifted up the armrest between you and him to let you slide over while he stood awkwardly in the aisle. 

“Do you want to use my hoodie as a blanket, baby?” he asked.

“Sure, thanks.”

He laid it over your shoulders after you got settled against the window, kissing you on the head and telling you goodnight. 

You shut your eyes and tried to relax but sleep wouldn’t come. You knew it wouldn’t. You took deep breaths in an attempt to slow your heart rate, lowkey considering holding your breath until you passed out. 

Next to you, Jisung was flipping through the in-flight movies. You could hear him tapping on the touchscreen, huffing in frustration when he couldn’t find anything he wanted to watch. 

“You okay, bro?” Felix asked his twin. 

You felt Jisung sort of shift, likely checking to see if you were asleep. He sighed. 

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Relationship troubles?” Felix guessed.

“Why do you ask?”

“You’ve been pissy for like, the past two days. I assumed it had something to do with your girlfriend.”

“She hasn’t been sleeping well,” he explained simply, lying through his teeth. Well, it wasn’t technically a lie because you weren’t sleeping well, but that had nothing to do with why Jisung was upset. “The exhaustion has been leading to a lot of fights.”

“Sorry, man.”

 “It’s okay. It happens. Not that you would know.”

Felix scoffed. “Ouch, I try to have a heart-to-heart with you and you go there?”

“This is a heart-to-heart to you?”

“You know what I mean. A real conversation.”

“Okay, but I’m right. You wouldn’t know.”

“Not all of us can have healthy relationships like you, Jisung,” he sighed.

“I know. I think I’m mom and dad’s only chance at grandchildren at this point.”

“Not if our brother has anything to say about it,” Felix said lowly. 

“What do you mean?” Jisung asked.

He sounded genuinely confused but you knew that internally he was panicking because you were too. You were still pretending to be asleep but you had stopped breathing, waiting to hear what he would say next. How much did Felix know? You and Minho weren’t great at sneaking around but you had at least tried to be a little careful. 

“You mean you haven’t noticed the way Minho looks at her?”

“Not really? But you spend more time with him. You know him better than I do.”

“Well, you should pay more attention. He makes it kind of obvious,” Minho muttered.

“Makes what kind of obvious, though?”

“That he wants her.”

“What?” 

“I can’t believe you haven’t caught on to him flirting with her.” 

“Well obviously he’s doing it behind my back so-”

“Sorry you had to find out this way,” Felix said, likely grimacing, “but at least she isn’t reciprocating, from what I’ve seen.”

“Yeah, at least there’s that,” Jisung murmured. 

You were able to exhale in relief, but only slightly. Felix didn’t know everything but he could tell Minho was interested which wasn’t a good sign. How long had he been picking up on that? 

Your best friend sighed angrily. “The one thing I thought Minho couldn’t take from me-” 

You bit the inside of your cheek, guilt consuming you all over again. 

“Don’t you think that’s a little dramatic?” Felix asked. “He hasn’t even made a move or anything, mate. I just think he thinks she’s cute.”

“With Minho, that’s enough.”

i'm sick so no tags :(( but i've got nothing else to do so here ya go, lmk what you think I always appreciate feedback!!

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[mybutcheredtongue]

I'll Love You 'til the Grass Around My Gravestone is Deceased

post azkaban sirius black x fem!reader

CHAPTER TWENTY (see full series list here)

1993

On the 22nd of November you sit on the floor of your office late at night, watching the flames of your fireplace crackle and pop. Beside you, sits Harry, eyes focused on the fire as well. Sirius had asked him to wait in front of the fire in your office at one o'clock and for you to be there too. You can't say your heart isn't beating faster than the steady tick of the clock on the wall, worried and giddy at the same time.

"I'm sorry about this whole situation, Harry," you say with a sigh, reaching out to stroke Dubh's fur idly as she clambers into your lap. "I know this isn't what you want. I tried everything to get them to change the rules but nothing worked."

"Thanks," he says blankly, like he's used to being disappointed.

"And that article in the paper — "

"I didn't say anything of that. It's a lie," Harry responds quickly.

You nod. "I'm well aware. Rita Skeeter is...difficult." As soon as the words have left your mouth, you grimace, shaking your head. "Actually, she doesn't deserve that nicety. She's a bitch, Harry. A nasty old hag that has nothing better to do with her life than spread rumours and sensationalise everything in sight."

Harry seems slightly taken aback by your words but nods in fierce agreement nonetheless.

"My best advice to you, Harry, is to run for the hills every time you see her — or just wave me over if I'm near. I am well accustomed to small talk with people like her — the trick is to just get them talking about themselves."

He nods. "I don't plan on going anywhere near her ever again."

"Smart decision," you say, sighing. "And look — I know I'm not supposed to get involved but if you need any help whatsoever, just ask. There's plenty of useful spells I can teach you and tips I can give — anything at all."

Just then, the flames move in a peculiar fashion and Sirius' head appears in the fire. Both you and Harry let out a small gasp, and when you look at Harry, his face has broken into the biggest smile you've seen him wear in weeks.

"Sirius!" Harry exclaims immediately.

He looks different from the last time you seen him. His face had looked gaunt and sunken, but now he looks far healthier and his hair, which was long, matted and greasy, is now clean and neat. You're glad to see that though he's trimmed it a tad, he's kept the beard. He looks younger.

"Hello, Harry," he says, before he turns to you, smiling, "and hello to you too, love."

You bring your hand up and give him a tiny little wave, unable to stop the giddy smile taking over your face at the sight of him.

"How're you doing?" Harry asks.

"Never mind me, how are you?" Sirius asks firmly, returning his attention to his godson.

"I'm — " Harry stops himself suddenly, holding himself back. Just when you're about to check if he's alright, he spills. He tells the two of you everything: about how no one believes that he hasn't entered himself into the tournament, how Rita Skeeter had lied about him in the Daily Prophet, how he can't walk down a corridor without getting sneered at, and about the toll it's all taken on his friendship with Ron.

You feel your heart ache for him. He deserves absolutely none of this and you wish you could do more to help.

"Hagrid's just shown me what's coming in the first task, and it's dragons — I'm a goner," he finishes desperately.

Sirius is looking at Harry with deep concern as he says, "Dragons we can deal with, Harry, but we'll get to that in a minute — I haven't got long here...I've broken into a wizarding house to use the fire, but they could be back at any time. There are things I need to warn you about."

"Just break into Moony's house next time," you say simply, shrugging. "Sounds much easier to me."

Sirius gives you a look that suggests he already thought of that, but obviously decided not to as he was already coming north to see you two. You smile cheekily at him and he shakes his head, refocusing his attention on Harry.

"What do you need to warn me about?" Harry asks.

"Karkaroff," Sirius says. "Harry, he was a Death Eater. You know what Death Eaters are, don't you?"

"He's a Death Eater?" You're shocked. Just this morning you picked his fork off the ground for him at breakfast!

"He was caught, he was in Azkaban with me, but he got released. I'd bet that's why Dumbledore wanted an Auror at Hogwarts this year — to keep an eye on him. Moody caught Karkaroff. Put him into Azkaban in the first place."

There already is an Auror at Hogwarts, you think. Or did Dumbly-dorr just forget about me?

"Karkaroff got released?" Harry says slowly. "Why did they release him?"

"He did a deal with the Ministry of Magic," Sirius replies bitterly. "He said he'd seen the error of his ways, and then named names...he put a load of other people into Azkaban in his place...he's not very popular there, I can tell you. And since he got out, from what I can tell, he's been teaching the Dark Arts to every student who passes through that school of his. So watch out for the Durmstrang champion as well."

How do you not remember any of this? Surely you'd have seen this all mentioned in the papers around that time?

"Okay..." Harry says. "But...are you saying that Karkaroff put my name in the goblet? Because if he did, he's a really good actor. He seemed furious about it. He wanted to stop me from competing."

"We know he's a good actor," says Sirius, "because he convinced the Ministry of Magic to set him free, didn't he? Now, I've been keeping an eye on the Daily Prophet, Harry — "

"You and the rest of the world," he says bitterly.

"— and reading between the lines of that Skeeter woman's article last month, Moody was attacked the night before he started at Hogwarts. Yes, I know she says it was another false alarm," Sirius says hastily, seeing Harry about to speak, "but I don't think so somehow. I think someone tried to stop him from getting to Hogwarts. I think someone knew their job would be a lot more difficult with him around. And no one's going to look into it too closely; Mad-Eye's heard intruders a bit too often. But that doesn't mean he still can't spot the real thing. Moody was the best Auror the Ministry ever had."

"So...what are you saying? Karkaroff's trying to kill me? But — why?"

Sirius hesitates.

"I've been hearing some very strange things," he says apprehensively. "The Death Eaters seem to be a bit more active than usual lately. They showed themselves at the Quidditch World Cup, didn't they? Someone cast the Dark Mark...and then — did you hear about that Ministry witch who's gone missing?"

"Bertha Jorkins?" You say. You recall reading that article about her disappearance not too long ago.

"Exactly...she disappeared to Albania, and that's definitely where Voldemort was rumoured to be last...and she would have known the Triwizard Tournament was coming up, wouldn't she?"

"Yeah, but...it's not very likely she'd have walked straight into Voldemort, is it?" says Harry.

"I wouldn't be too sure about that," Sirius says grimly, glancing at you. "Do you remember her at school?"

You nod your head. "She was at Hogwarts when we were, a few years above us," you explain to Harry. "As thick as a board, she was. Very nosey, too. Awful combination."

"Makes her easy to lure into a trap," Sirius finishes.

"So...so Voldemort could have found out about the tournament?" says Harry. "Is that what you mean? You think Karkaroff might be here on his orders?"

"I don’t know," Sirius says with a shake of his head, "I just don’t know...Karkaroff doesn’t strike me as the type who’d go back to Voldemort unless he knew Voldemort was powerful enough to protect him. But whoever put your name in that goblet did it for a reason, and I can’t help thinking the tournament would be a very good way to attack you and make it look like an accident."

"Looks like a really good plan from where I’m standing." Harry grins bleakly. "They'll just have to stand back and let the dragons do their stuff."

"You'll be fine," you reassure firmly, though you're not sure if it's for Harry's sake or your own. "I'll be there, all the rest of the teachers will be there, and there'll be that group of dragon keepers there too."

"Look, about these dragons," Sirius says, speaking quickly now, glancing around him furtively, "There's a way, Harry. Don't be tempted to try a simple Stunning Spell — dragons are too strong and powerfully magical to be knocked out by a single stunner, you need about half a dozen wizards at a time to overcome a dragon — "

"Yeah, I know, I just saw," Harry says.

"But you can do it alone," Sirius tells him, looking him straight in the eye. "There is a way, a simple spell's all you need — "

Knock-knock.

At once, all three of you go dead silent and whip your heads to the closed door.

"Go, Sirius, quickly!" You hiss at him urgently.

You scramble to your feet, grabbing Harry's invisibilty cloak off the desk and launching it at him.

"Quick!"

Harry frantically pulls the cloak over his head and ducks behind your desk as you make you way over to the door, glancing back at the fireplace to see that Sirius' head has disappeared and the flames have returned to normal. You feel a small pang in your heart.

Who could possibly be knocking at your door at one o'clock in the morning? Surely everyone is asleep by now?

You pull the door open and are met with nothing but the quiet, dark corridor.

"Must've been Peeves," you mutter angrily, moving to close the door. Of course that poltergeist would find a way to cut your time with Sirius short.

"Oh, no, mistress, it is Bitsy!"

You look down in search of the voice and sure enough, at the foot of your door, is Bitsy, grinning up widely at you with her ginormous eyes reflecting the flickering light of the candles on the wall. You notice that she's holding a tray of scones in her tiny hands.

"Bitsy?" You say in shock and confusion. "What are you doing here? Is everything alright?"

"Bitsy was cleaning this corridor, mistress, and heard talking coming from mistress's office! And Bitsy thinks 'why is mistress up so late talking?' Perhaps she has a guest and is very hungry! Mistress was not at breakfast this morning, and I isn't seeing mistress in the kitchens either!"

While part of you feels angry and cheated that she's just interrupted your seldom chance to talk to your husband, you can't be mad at Bitsy and her big kind heart.

You chuckle softly. "Oh, Bitsy. You are far too kind to me. You're right, I didn't attend breakfast this morning nor did I go to the kitchens in the afternoon — I had breakfast with a friend of mine in Hogsmeade today. I should have told you."

Bitsy beams at you and holds the tray out for you to take. "Bitsy is glad to know you did not go hungry this morning. For you, mistress!"

You accept the tray with a smile. "Thank you, Bitsy. You are very kind — let me go fetch something to give you as a thank you."

"Oh, no, mistress! I cannot accept anything from you, I is just doing my duty!"

You leave her momentarily, placing the tray of scones down, grabbing a box off your desk and returning to hand it to her. "Film for your camera, Bitsy. So you can take more pictures. "

You don't miss the gleeful smile that spreads over Bitsy's face as she looks at the box in wonder. "Mistress, I must not — "

"I insist, Bitsy. Actually — I order you to accept the film. I know how much you love your camera," you tell her, pushing it into her hands.

"Thank you, mistress," she says gratefully, bowing to you. "I must return to my work now, unless mistress requires Bitsy for anything?"

You shake your head, smiling. "No, but thank you, Bitsy. I think it's time for mistress to get some rest."

Bitsy leaves, clutching the film tightly in her hands and bowing out of your view before Disapparating. You close the door behind you, letting out a sigh as Harry stands up slowly, pulling the cloak off.

"I'm sorry about that, Harry," you say. "I really wish we could have more time with Sirius."

"Yeah, me too. Was that a house elf?"

You nod, chuckling. "Sure was. That's Bitsy. You see, I stay up much later than everyone else — I'm usually up in the tower because of course, the best time to view the stars is at night, so I sleep in the next day and miss breakfast a lot of the time. And when I do, I can go down to the kitchens and Bitsy and all the other house elves will give me something to eat — have done since I was in school myself and did the exact same thing. Bitsy is my saviour, honestly. She's an absolute gem."

"You're able to get into the Hogwarts kitchens?" Harry says curiously.

"Yep. There's a painting of a bowl of fruit down by the entrance to the Hufflepuff common room — just tickle the pear and the door'll open right up for you."

You know that as a teacher you probably shouldn't be telling him this, but you don't really care. You went there countless times as a student so why shouldn't he?

Harry nods thoughtfully before asking, "That spell Sirius mentioned, that could defeat a dragon...have you any idea what it is?"

You bite your lip, drumming your fingers against your hip as you search your brain for anything like that. "I don't, Harry, I'm sorry. Perhaps you could try confundus, and confuse it? I can't say I'm too familiar with dragons...now, you should go to bed, Harry. A good night's sleep for the next few days is what you need before the first task. And in the meantime, I'll have a look and see if I can figure something out for you."

"Thanks, but I doubt I'll find it easy to sleep," Harry remarks, throwing the cloak back over his head.

"Well, if you do find that you can't sleep, come up the Tower," you tell him with a smile, pulling the door open for his invisible figure. "I find stargazing is the best way to relieve stress and solve problems."

⁠✧⁠*⁠。✧⁠*⁠。

You feel like you're about to get sick. You stare at the Hungarian Horntail, huge and terrifying as she crouches protectively over her eggs, huffing great hot breaths out of her large nostrils. And there, standing across from this fearsome beast as though rooted to the spot, is Harry. The crowd roars around you but you can barely hear them as your stomach knots and twists and flips with sickening worry.

"Accio Firebolt!" Harry yells, raising his wand.

You wait. The crowd waits. Harry waits.

And then you see it. Harry's broomstick, his Firebolt, hurtles towards him and stops in mid-air beside him, waiting for him to mount it. You vaguely register Ludo Bagman roaring something over the crowd in response to this, but you're too focused on praying to whatever great deities you can to protect your godson. You're just so relieved that he managed to figure something out — and something so clever, too! Why hadn't you thought of a Summoning Spell? It's so simple. Sirius will be so proud of Harry when he finds out.

Harry rises into the air, the wind rushing through his hair, surveying the dragon not far below him. A sort of resolve seems to come over him and then he dives, forcing you to bring your hands up to cover your eyes in fear.

"Oh, I can't watch," you breathe. Beside you, Minerva gives you an understanding look as she watches on. You hear the rush of fire, the crowd cheering and screaming, and then —

"Great Scott, he can fly!" Bagman roars. "Are you watching this, Mr Krum?"

You open your eyes just in time to see Harry plummet to the ground once more, just missing the burst of flames that flies from the Horntail's open maw — but not quick enough to completely avoid the whip of her tail and to your horror, one of the long spikes grazes Harry's shoulder, ripping his robes.

"Harry!" You shriek, practically about to chew your finger off with the alarming rate you're biting the tips of your nails as you reluctantly watch on, wishing for it to be over.

He begins to fly this way, then that, not near enough to make the dragon breathe fire at him to stave him off, but still posing a sufficient enough threat to make her keep her eyes focused on him, tracking his every move.

The dragon's head sways with his movements, her eyes unwavering as she followed him, gruesome fangs bared. You can feel your heart palpitating in your chest. Harry rises even higher, the Horntail's head rising with him, her neck now stretched out to its fullest extent.

You jump as the Horntail lets out a deafening roar, her tail thrashing threateningly as she blows another burst of fire at him, which he thankfully dodges.

She opens her mouth and then she finally rears, spreading her great, black, leathery wings at last and Harry seizes the opportunity to dive at an incredible speed. You can barely keep your eyes on him with the rate he's whistling through the air, hurtling towards the nest of eggs.

"Come on, come on, come on..." you chant, hands tapping frantically at the tops of your thighs as you sit on the edge of your seat, watching impatiently.

Harry takes his hands off his broom, seizes the golden egg, and with another huge burst of speed, he's off and soaring out over the stands. He tucks the egg safely under his uninjured arm, and looks out over the stands.

You can't help but jump out your seat, cheering yourself hoarse as you voice your praise and feel relief wash over your body like a tsunami. The noise around you is monumental, drumming in your ears like a jackhammer.

"Look at that!" Bagman yells. "Will you look at that! Our youngest champion is the quickest to get his egg! Well, this is going to shorten the odds on Mr Potter!"

The dragon keepers rush forward to subdue the Horntail and you hurry out of your seat, practically sprinting to the entrance of the enclosure. Minerva is hot on your heels and Moody and Hagrid have already beaten you, waiting with wide smiles for Harry to land.

"That was excellent, Potter!" Minerva cries as the boy hops off his broomstick. She points a shaky hand to his shoulder. "You'll need to see Madam Pomfrey before the judges give out your score...Over there, she's had to mop up Diggory already..."

"Harry, you were brilliant!" You exclaim excitedly, eagerly pulling him in for a hug and beaming at him. Normally, you'd worry about other students thinking you have a favourite — which you do, of course you do — but today you couldn't care less, you're so overwhelmed with relief and swelling with pride for your godson. "Absolutely brilliant, Harry! Just — fantastic, honestly, I can't believe it, I was so worried — I'm so proud — "

"Thanks," Harry says, unable to keep the large smile on his face down, his face red.

"Yeh' did it, Harry!" says Hagrid hoarsely. "Yeh did it! An' agains' the Horntail an' all, an' yeh know Charlie said that was the wors' — "

"Thanks, Hagrid," Harry says loudly, so that Hagrid doesn't blather on about how he had shown Harry the dragons beforehand. You give a light chuckle.

Even Moody looks very pleased, the slightest of smiles tugging at his cracked lips. "Nice and easy does the trick, Potter."

"Right then, Potter, the first aid tent, please..." Minerva says, gesturing to the tent with her hand.

He leaves, giving you all a grin before heading into the tent and you just smile proudly after him, rolling on the balls of your feet.

"Oh, he was just excellent, wasn't he?" Minerva says to you, smiling. "The best out of the all the champions, by far!"

You nod enthusiastically. "Easily! Oh, Merlin, I am just so glad he came out alright, I thought I was going to chew my own hand off with worry..."

"He was migh'y," Hagrid says loudly, a sob racking his body as he reaches into his pocket to pull out a large handkerchief, bigger than your face, and blows into it. "Jus' migh'y."

"Oh, Hagrid," you say softly, reaching up to place a comforting hand on his back, smiling sympathetically.

Across the enclosure, the five judges are sitting at the end in raised seats draped in gold. The first judge, Madame Maxime, raises her wand in the air and what looks like a long silver ribbon shoots out of the end of it — forming the shape of a large figure eight.

"Not bad," you remark, clapping along with the crowd. "Must've been the injury that lost him marks..."

Crouch comes next, shooting a number nine into the air.

"Excellent!" Minerva exclaims.

Next, Dumbledore puts up a nine and the crowd yells louder than ever.

Ludo Bagman — ten.

You turn to Minerva in disbelief, matching looks of shock with each other before you eagerly applaud.

Now, Karkaroff raises his wand. He pauses for a moment, and then a number shoots out of his wand — four.

"What?" You yell indignantly, blinking several times to make sure your eyes aren't tricking you. "A four?"

"How shameful, he gave his own student a ten!" Minerva remarks angrily.

Several members of the crowd seem to agree with you, bellowing angrily and booing at Karkaroff's biased marking.

Suddenly, Sirius' words ring in your head.

He's a Death Eater.

You feel your spine chill as you look across the enclosure at Karkaroff's steely expression, steadfast in his decision to reward Harry four marks.

Scumbag.

⁠✧⁠*⁠。✧⁠*⁠。

"A toast!" Dumbledore announces, raising his glass. "To the completion of the first task of the Triwizard Tournament!"

You grin, raising your glass in tandem. "Cheers!" You clink it against Minerva's, then with Professor Sprout's on your other side.

All the staff have gathered in that small room right of the Great Hall for a little staff-only party, the fire blazing in its place and radiating a pleasant warmth around the room. The house elves have prepared a small spread of finger foods for the lot of you — and you've gone straight for the cupcakes, decorated humorously with little edible dragons. They're delicious — you make a mental note to voice your thanks to Bitsy the next time you see her.

Despite the happiness that's settled in you since Harry's successful task, when your eyes land on Karkaroff, sitting on the opposite side of the room to you, talking with Snape, unease gnaws at your gut.

You're sitting in a room with a Death Eater.

You've been in this situation countless times, of course, back when you were an Auror. But then, you knew what was going on. You knew what you were in for. Here, you don't. At parent-teacher meetings, you don't doubt you've been in the company of some Death Eaters, or former Death Eaters, rather. Some of your Slytherins' parents certainly seem to have a fondness for opaque, long-sleeved shirts...

You can't help but remember that night at the Quidditch World Cup, and your brain starts to picture one of those cruel Death Eaters pulling off his mask and revealing Karkaroff's sharp face.

You grip your champagne glass tightly, downing the contents and taking a deep breath. You should go mingle, the time for investigating Karkaroff can come tomorrow.

It's this little staff party that you finally get acquainted with Madame Maxime properly, trying your hand at your conversational-level French. She seems very impressed at this, delighted that you know at least a little bit of her own language — she says something about the 'arrogance of native English speakers', which you don't disagree with.

"Oh, and look at this pretty diamond on your finger!" Madame Maxime exclaims suddenly, catching sight of your engagement ring, sitting pretty above your wedding band on your left ring finger. She takes your hand in her much larger one so she can inspect it closer. "You are married?"

You look at the sparkling ring, glinting in the candlelight, smiling softly. "Yes, I am."

"How sweet," she remarks, dropping your hand gently. "I was married once."

You raise your eyebrows imploringly and she leans closer, waving her large hand theatrically as she says, "But he was a bastard."

She laughs fiendishly, and you just sort of watch, unsure whether you should laugh or not.

"You can laugh!" she assures when she sees your unsure expression. "Good riddance, is what I say. He thought he could keep the company of some girl while I was at working at Beauxbatons — so I said to him, 'fuck you and the whore you rode in on!'"

You nearly choke on your champagne, shocked at what you've heard come out of Madame Maxime's mouth. She grins proudly, showing rows of pearly white teeth. She seems to be finding your shock very amusing as she laughs again.

"His loss," you tell her, chuckling.

"Absolument." She shrugs nonchalantly, as though it was nothing to her but a stone in the bottom of her shoe. "Et toi? Where is your husband?"

You don't answer her for a moment, sucking on your teeth. "Well, I don't know, actually."

"How do you not know?"

"Oh, because he's just escaped from prison," you answer simply. You don't know what makes you tell her that. It would have been so easy to lie, but you don't. Perhaps it's the two too many glasses of champagne you've had, or perhaps it's the way Madame Maxime doesn't seem to care about anything, really, other than Fleur Delacour and the tournament.

Her mouth drops for a second, before she laughs. "Ah, well, c'est la vie. Marriage is never easy."

You chuckle softly, shaking your head. It feels weirdly relieving to you that she couldn't care less about your personal life. You find a new respect for the woman in front of you. "Certainly not."

⁠✧⁠*⁠。✧⁠*⁠。

→⁠→ read chapter twenty-one here!

→ all kinds of interaction appreciated ♡

Hugs and bisous for my incredible taglist loves:

@wholelottalove05 @izuoyarmin @hyperspeedo @carpe000diem @jennifer0305 @idkman5335

[radiocurrency]

FANFICTION MASTERPOST

Hi, my name is Jay and I like to write gay vampire smut.

My AO3 account is brandedforeverlame

I am currently publishing a Devil's Minion fanfic series entitled 'If You Had Life Eternal'.

Almost all my fics are Rated E. All with Armand x Daniel as the main pairing unless otherwise stated.

1. Loving You's A Bloodsport

(4016 words)

Post 2x08 turning fic.

After Louis leaves the apartment in Dubai to head to NOLA, Armand decides to reveal all to Daniel.

2. Lestat and Daniel's Grand Adventure (Lessons In How To Provoke Your Maker)

(29,562 words) multichapter. COMPLETE. Lestat and Daniel friendship buddy fic.

It's been one year since Daniel was turned and he still hasn't heard from his maker.

Daniel decides (against his better judgement) to reach out to the only other immortal he knows besides Louis for help to track down Armand.

Also please check out the absolutely awesome fanart my lovely friend Anna @once-delight made for this fic right here. Anna is also the official beta reader for this fic.

3. My kingdom for a kiss upon his shoulder

(3,788 words)

San Francisco, 1978:

Daniel makes a spur of the moment decision and Armand reacts accordingly.

4. Arms Tonite

(4,760 words)

Yes. The fisting fic -

It lay on their kitchen bench, framed in golden light which streamed in through the window of their Tuscan apartment.

“Uh… whose arm is that?”

~~

Daniel has never been fisted and when Armand offers to change that, Daniel can't help but make a comment that brings out the Gremlin™️

5. To All Besotted Souls

(2,564 words)

The first time Armand and Daniel have sex during the chase years.

Pompeii Ruins, Naples, 1976

And now he was here - waiting on this strange demon with whom he was pretty sure he was in love with.

Could you fall in love with the monster under your bed?

Could you fall in love with a guillotine blade as it hung over your neck?

6. My Casual God

(1854 words)

Rashid!Armand x Daniel smut. Before the reveal.

Daniel saw an image of Rashid wearing that fucking low cut v neck black shirt. His dick twitched in interest and he squeezed it gently

Fuck. Wow, Ok. He was going there apparently.

7. Pass the Nirvana

(1590 words)

Daniel has a pussy + impact play

If Daniel was sleeping and Armand wanted his body it was a no brainer.

Wake him the fuck up!

~~

In which Daniel gets a little more than he imagined.

8. So Glad To Meet You (Angeles)

WIP. Multichapter (2 up to far)

Based around my OC Tyler Molloy - Daniel's Grandson. DM as background pairing but focused on Tyler's story and Molloy family bonding/issues/dynamics

Daniel Molloys grandson, Tyler, had an escape plan. He was getting the fuck out of New York and to a fresh start in Los Angeles where he could finally live authentically as himself. He just had to steal his Step Dad's credit card, book a flight, and tell NO ONE where he was going until he got there

Especially not Aunty Kate...

Or Daniel and Armand.

What could go wrong?

--------

And there's plenty more on it's way. I'm almost always writing and love to talk to any fellow DM writers. Please feel free to follow/ask/dm me :)

[it-happened-one-fic]

One Thing At A Time - Leona

Author Notes: I wrote this so fast, I can't even lie. I honestly just put on Leona's playlist and boom, this happened. Anyway, I though it would be fitting to post a Leona fic (one top of the Vampire AU update) since tomorrow (or maybe today in some time zones) is Leona's birthday! As per usual, reader is gender-neutral. I hope you enjoy!

Type: Gender neutral reader/ sfw/ fluff/ romance/ flirtation

Word count: 1346

It was honestly a miracle that Leona hadn’t thrown you off his bed yet, considering you were sitting next to him and pushing on his shoulders like a pushy child. Completely ignoring the way he stubbornly kept his eyes closed as he did his very best to ignore you and instead nap.

“Look, you just do your part for the presentation, and I’ll be out of your hair. Easy as that,” You coaxed without even the slightest bit of subtlety as you leaned over, all but cooing at him and finally succeeding in getting him to open one annoyed eye that slid over so that he was glowering at where you looked down at him with a winning smile on your face.

“Who let you in here?” His words were growled, but you merely continued to smile, shaking your head amusedly as you refused to tell him that it was, in fact, Ruggie who’d let you in and had even laughingly wished you luck.

But it wasn’t like you could sell out your partner in crime, and, knowing Leona, he already had a pretty good idea of who was at fault. 

Plus, even if Ruggie hadn’t let you in, you probably would’ve waltzed right in anyway. Such was your relationship with Leona, after all. If he could march into Ramshackle dorm and nap on your couch, then you could come into his room and harass him.

“Come on, it won’t even be that bad. Most of the work is done anyway! All you have to do is show up, stand there, and look pretty,” You smiled at him brightly, earning yourself a glare in response as he finally sat up. His motions causing you to scoot backwards slightly.

He barely glanced back at you as he spoke, “Why is it always you that shows up to ruin my plans?”

You watched as he ran a hand through his slightly tangled hair as he continued, not even bothering to pause for you to respond to his previous question, “All I wanted was to nap, but you-”

He paused, pointedly looking back at where you sat. Not feeling guilty in the slightest as you all but beamed at him, causing him to roll his eyes as he continued, “-Simply can’t leave well enough alone.”

You blinked slightly at his words, recognizing the warning signs as he turned to face you fully, and you realized a little bit too late that you were a little bit too close to him to be totally safe as he smirked, “An herbivore like you should know better than to waltz into a lion’s den.”

You crossed your arms though, not quailing the slightest bit and even snorting at him slightly, “Oh, please. As if I haven’t been here plenty of times without having any issues.”

He twisted, planting his hand on the mattress in an almost final manner as he shook his head, his tail whipping around behind him in an almost ominous fashion, “You usually don’t interrupt my nap.”

Despite his words, there was no bite there. In fact, the best description for his tone was threateningly playful. But even then you felt yourself start to edge backwards as your confidence that there would be little to no recompense to your actions failed you even as you shook your head, “I do usually pester you without any issues, though.”

He snorted at your words, and you chanced a smile only to feel your final hopes flag as soon as he spoke, “Looks like you went too far today, though, Herbivore.”

You hardly even had a chance to try and make a dive off the bed with a shriek as you got tackled in a chaotic torrent of Leona, you, and a veritable pile of incredibly soft blankets.

But then, Leona was a prince, so he probably could afford ridiculously expensive sheets if he wanted to.

You let your head flop against the unfairly comfortable bed in defeat before you looked back up to see a far too smug Leona grinning at you from where his head now rested on your stomach. His arms locked around your waist like a vise-grip that you knew you couldn’t break.

“Little dramatic for one nap interruption, don’t you think?” You reached down and pushed at his smug face as you scolded him. Frowning down at him even as he remained wholly unbudged, only turning his head so that your hand rested against his cheek rather than the front of his face.

“You knew better,” He didn’t even bother to sound guilty as you shoved against him. In fact, he sounded just as smug as he looked. But both of you already knew how this was going to go.

You flopped backwards again, looking up at the ceiling as sarcasm filled your words, “Fine then, Your Highness, what is the punishment for my grave disrespect to your exalted person?”

He snorted at your sarcastic tone, and you felt yourself grin despite the position you were in. 

His grip on you shifted, and you felt him relax against you, using your stomach as a pillow as he let himself flop fully, no longer holding his weight off you and causing you to cough slightly at the sudden heaviness, “You’ll stay put and behave for once.”

You smacked at his head weakly, and you could all but feel him smile against your stomach as you spoke, “Leona... Too heavy…. You're crushing me.”

He huffed out a laugh, his shaking shoulders jostling you slightly before he adjusted himself once more, and you felt yourself relax once more as he spoke in an amused tone from where he continued to use you as a pillow, “Remind me to have Jack start training you. You couldn’t get any more feeble.”

You sat up slightly, propping yourself on your arms as you looked down at the prince who currently held you captive, “Not willing to train me yourself, Your Highness?”

He didn’t even move, apparently far too comfortable to rise to the challenge, “Not worth it.”

You felt yourself grin as you reached over and poked him, all but cooing out your words, “Worried I’ll get too strong for you?”

He outright snorted at your words, his hot breath blowing across you before he squeezed you slightly in retaliation to your teasing, “Hardly.”

You gazed at him for a moment in silent amusement, half-wondering exactly how you’d gotten to be this comfortable with the Savanaclaw housewarden.

To say the two of you had come far from your first meeting would be the understatement of the century. If you’d been told then that you’d been dating this man, of all people, you probably would have called whoever had told you that insane.

But he hardly seemed as fearsome now as he had then.

At this point, your relationship might as well be a masterclass in the fact that first impressions didn’t mean everything, though they certainly were important. Because here you were toying with Leona’s hair rather than fearing him attacking you.

Though he had just tackled you, so perhaps your initial impression hadn’t been entirely off.

You sighed slightly, watching as he smiled at the sensation of your fingers sliding through his hair and fondly pressing his head into your hand as you shook your head, “I hope you know you're still not getting out of that presentation.”

He let out a huff and, miraculously enough, let go of you with one arm long enough to grab your hand in his as he opened his eyes to look at you. Pressing his thumb against the center of your hand as the rest of his fingers curled around your wrist “Don’t rush me, Herbivore.”

The growl had returned to his voice, but you just grinned, knowing perfectly well that it was in no way threatening or even a warning. 

You nodded though, almost shaking your head fondly at the young man that continued to maintain his hold on you even now, “Fine, one thing at a time then. Cuddles first and presentation later.”

[kerubimcrepin]

LIVEBLOG: Dofus Novel 4, The Thirsty Beheader

I apologize for my absence. Translating this novel has burned me out from the fandom in a pretty major way, and I also got into a different fandom in the meantime and am, like, three 4k word chapters deep into a longfic for said new fandom. Besides that, I had a depressive episode and went insane for a while. Basically, I've been a bit busy.

At the same time I release this post, I have uploaded the new, updated versions of both translations (since this liveblog is mostly a reason for me to reread and fix stuff) to MEGA and VK, so I recommend you download the new versions!

I will mostly be copying the text directly, to bypass tumblr's image restriction, but some screenshots will be provided. For example:

If pride is a sin, then the typesetting and cleaning I went through with this book will have me go to hell after I die. (I don't think I'm a master, but I did a pretty good job, ok?)

A cart had just entered the District of the Lost Steps. It stopped in front of the store, as two Srams* got out.

I love the internal consistency of the street being named here. Thank you, author of this book, for caring.

“Are you sure about this,” asked the little guy, “Is this really the right place?” “Yeah,” replied the tall one, “There aren't thirty-six Shushu* houses in the neighborhood.”

LMAO this is something Kerubim is actually known for, huh?

At the time that this book takes place in, joris can't read very well. Cute...

Also, hehe... I am pretty proud of the way this part of the book was cleaned + the font + the layers and colors and opacity I applied to the text, to make it fit in with the paper.

^^^ This is me btw, during this entire post. ^^^

The entirety of the epilogue and prologue are typed on top of cleaned backgrounds sourced from the scan. The rest of the book is typed in front of a digital background. This artistic choice was made because....... You can't set different pages to be different colors in word. You have to overlay some image or a textbox, if you want a page to be a different color.

Anyway — I had a lot of fun searching for the fonts from this book! (and far less fun searching for appropriate fonts for the Russian translation since none of the fonts this book uses have cyrilic versions...)

The fonts this book uses are: Dimbo, Chelsea Market, and Aleo. Google them for all your Dofus Aux Tresors de Kerubim related needs.

The fonts I chose to use in the russian translation are: Brydan Write, Correction Brush, Curinn, and Itim. I just had to make do with what I had, ok?

“My Papycha said it's urgent!” exclaimed Joris, “He could be in danger. Maybe he's being attacked by the Thirsty!” Even Pupuce looked worried. Simone reread the message, thinking out loud: “The Huffing Bow Wow tavern is in the Pandawa district... There's plenty of bamboo milk there. Maybe the neighborhood is overrun by the Thirsters?” “And soon, the whole city will be under attack!” concluded Joris.

Nobody knows how to escalate a situation better than a 7yo with anxiety. God bless <3

The Ecaflip goes full "war machine" mode: he cuts and slices through the living dead for the entire night, and when the golden disk of the sun finally rises over the horizon, the scenery is carpeted with the Thirsty. The region is saved. Kerubim becomes a legend. To thank him, the local lord offers him the... “Hey... Joris? Are you listening?” asked Simone. She began shaking the boy, who, abruptly snapping out of his reverie, mumbled: “Huh? What?”

Joris is so normal. So sane.

“Bye-bye,” added Bowiknif. But Luis slammed the door in their faces, roaring: “You're not going anywhere!” “Oh yeah?” hissed Bakstab, “Is that so?” “Would you like us to chop up your friends with a Brakmarian steel sword of Chouque?” questioned the other, “Or with Samuel J. Axe?” Luis muttered what sounded like a string of expletives, before reluctantly opening the door to the two robbers, who bolted out without further ado.

I'm LITERALLY fucking insane about this.

“I'm sorry,” said Luis, “I tried to hold them back, but...” “We know, we saw everything,” the girl cut him off, “You did your best, Luis.”

Actually deranging. Also explains why Luis did fuckall about Sipho, Harebourg, and Ush — there's just not much he can actually do.

She spotted a Dragoturkey standing near a trough. In two strides, she reached the animal, untied it, and climbed onto its back like an experienced Dragogirl*. “Let’s go!” she said to the boy.

This once again raises a some questions about Simone's past — when did she learn how to ride dragoturkeys? Is it the same reason why she knows how to fight, at least a little?

Then again, maybe she's just being an Osamodas here.

I love, love, love the Simone&Joris content in this book. Their bond is so important to me... She's the aunt who stepped up.

This art is so nice...

They had run like mad through half the city, arrived at the wrong address, turned back just as a thunderstorm broke out, wandered around in the rain in the Pandawa district, and FINALLY arrived at the Huffing Bow Wow Tavern, a large, long building with a thatched roof.

They're so fucking stupid. I love them.

“Ah, there you are!” called out Kerubim, “I almost thought you’d make me wait some more!”

I wish english also had the phrase "I almost thought you'd be late" as a cunty response when someone's an hour or three late to an event. I don't think the english translation I made conveys the sheer frustration.

Kerubim raised an eyebrow — a perfect copy of the circumflex accent:

I struggled with this part a lot in russian sjfkgdfg. It made me nerd out a little bit too.

I didn't have a lot of comments here, but eh. It was nice to finally get this over with dfjgkdsfg.