#This post is so long I'm so sorry. But it was originally so much longer

[galactichelium]

Living in Australia can be so complicated when it comes to websites and devices and other such things trying to accommodate for people around the world. Because, depending on how they feel, Australians could either be grouped in Europe (when it's NTSC vs PAL), grouped in with North America (when grouped by "culture" and they put the UK with Europe), grouped in with the UK (either when it's commonwealth vs US or "UK English" vs "US English"), or grouped in with Asia (when they're basing it off of timezones/closest geographic region). Because we just don't have enough people to justify our own regions LMFAO.

But there is unfortunately just no perfect option. Unless they were to let us have more customisation and say, for servers I want to be with Asia, but I want to use UK English, but I want to use 12-hour time instead of 24-hour, but I want access to the North American content rather than the Europe one, etc etc. These are just examples of course. I also think it would be good if everyone had these options because there are other reasons why you might prefer one of these things to another but don't want ALL the things associated with that region. Weirdly enough, Splatoon 3 has been the best with this. But they also all use US English afaik.

But yeah what got me thinking about this is how Discord decides to approach "US English" vs "UK English" on desktop. You wanna know what the differences are between the two options? 12-hour time for "US English", 24-hour time for "UK English". They use the SAME spellings. The UK language option will in fact tell you that "colour" is wrong. Which is just so fucking ridiculous. Like that isn't a fucking language option if the only difference I'm aware of is time formatting 😭. But it'd still be a problem even if they did change the spellings because then I'd have to sacrifice either the spellings or the time format. I know on my Switch I'm forced to use 24-hour time based on my region alone, which doesn't make sense as 12-hour is vastly more popular here (though both are officially accepted).

[kyouka-supremacy]

I think we should just bring back Wungo Wednesday and start a fandom collective anime rewatch

[crookedlyinnernightmare]

i wonder what it would do to you?

[giannaln4]

Sick

lando norris x fem reader

summary: Your sickness got in the way of a romantic day Lando had planned for the both of you, but to him, making you feel better was way more important than anything. (3.1k words)

warnings: stablished relationship, sick!reader, mentions of throw up, extremely cheesy, fluff

a/n: i was supposed to post this last week when the request was made, i'm sorry it took me so long anon but i hope you like it! also i did make it a little longer and more dramatic than i had to. also this is the first request i post!! i have one more but please keep sending more ideas, i love reading what you have in mind

check out the original request here!

-> Prequel

↺ back to navigation— send me a request!

Lando had been sick last week, and you did everything to take good care of him, as much as you could. You carried medications with you, made sure he drank enough water, and gave him tea to help him feel better. You even cuddled him every night to help him sleep.

He was extremely grateful that you made sure to take good care of him. Having to give everything on track sure made it a little difficult, but he did get better eventually, and he said it was thanks to you.

What you never considered, though, was the fact that his sickness would get to you, but the next week, you felt it, and it was even more evident the night after the Austrian Grand Prix.

For some reason, it hit you harder, and the fact that you had been travelling so much didn’t help. You wanted nothing more than to sleep for days until the sickness went away, but Lando had other plans. With how busy he usually is, he always makes you his priority when he’s away from the track, so before going to bed, he shared the plans he had for the next day, including some activities that required you to get ready and leave the comfort of your home.

You both valued your time together, and you could tell how excited he was to take you out and spend the day with you, something that would also help him to take his mind off the events that took place that weekend, so you said yes.

The next morning, you felt him leave the bed, kissing your forehead goodbye as you turned around to face him.

“I have a little something to do before our date, but you can meet me at the restaurant so we can have breakfast together, yeah?” He whispered. You just nodded, and he kissed you again, whispering a little ‘I love you’ before leaving your room.

You went back to sleep as soon as he left, but the sound of your alarm woke you up an hour later. You grunted as you turned it off, looking at the time, knowing you had to start getting ready if you wanted to make it on time for your date, but your body felt so heavy that you couldn’t even leave the bed. 

Your current state was unfortunate, to say the least. A pounding headache, a runny nose, a sore throat, constant sweating, and intense body pain. There was no way you could go out.

It broke your heart to have to cancel your day with Lando, but you knew your body couldn’t take it and that he would understand.

Before notifying your boyfriend that you wouldn't make it, you looked up your symptoms to make sure you didn’t need to seek medical attention. The last thing you wanted was to end up at the hospital; you never liked them. You quickly came to the conclusion that it was a simple cold. You should’ve seen it coming; not only did you take care of Lando while he was sick, but you hadn’t been feeling the best the last couple of days and brushed it off, thinking you were just tired.

You sent him a long text explaining that you were sick and apologising a million times for cancelling the romantic day he had planned, feeling terrible for failing him.

You fell back asleep almost immediately, but sadly, not for long. Your body temperature suddenly dropped, making you shiver, so you brought up every blanket and tried to cover your entire body with them, but stopped when you suddenly felt hot again.

You were sure you had never been this sick; you were uncomfortable, your throat was incredibly dry, and your whole body was sticky from sweat. It even hurt to sneeze. You let out a loud moan in discomfort, and a few seconds later, you heard the door open.

“Sorry, I didn’t know if you were awake, and I didn’t wanna bother you,” Lando said softly, entering the room. He was holding a few blankets and pillows that covered his face, but you knew he had a worried look on his face. You covered yourself again, up to your head; you didn’t want him to see you like this, not when your hair was an absolute mess and your sleeping shirt looked like you took a shower in it.

“What are you doing here? I thought you had something to do,” you asked under the blankets.

His eyes softened when they hit the lump on the bed as he placed the stuff by your feet. “Don’t worry about that; I’m done for the day.” He approached you and kneeled next to you. “Hey, how bad is it?”

“It’s bad. I don’t wanna get you sick again,” you replied, your throat hurting every time you spoke.

“You’ll be happy to know that I don’t care.” He joked, but you remained silent. “I assume you didn’t have any breakfast yet.”

“No”

"Well, I bought you some soup. You should eat it while it’s still hot, it will be good for you.” He stared at the blankets, waiting for you to come out or at least say something "Baby, come on, let me see you.”

You appreciated him being there to take care of you; it truly warmed your heart, and all you wanted to do was show him how thankful you were, but what if he got sick again because of you? What if you look so bad right now that he will break up with you on the spot? “I don’t look good,” you finally muttered.

“What?” He chuckled, thinking you were joking.

“I’m sweating an insane amount; I can feel my hair sticking to my face.”

“Let me braid your hair so you feel less sticky on the face. I promise you’ll feel better.”

You thought about it for a moment and figured he wouldn’t leave even if you directly asked him to, so you uncovered your face slowly and shyly looked at him. “I feel really ill.”

“I know, baby. Tell me what hurts.”

“Everything. My entire body, the headache is terrible, and I get really cold, but after a second, I feel like I’m boiling.”

He touched your forehead as soon as he noticed your blushed face. “Baby, you’re really hot.”

“I know that,” you joked with a smirk on your face.

Lando rolled his eyes but couldn’t contain his laughter. “Good to know your sense of humour remains untouched.” He stood up and left the room, coming back in a heartbeat as he held a bowl of soup. “You’re gonna eat your soup while I braid your hair and I promise it will make you feel at least a little bit better.”

“My hair is all covered in sweat, though.” You sat on the bed, waiting for him to give you the soup.

“That’s okay. It’s hot, so please be careful.” You carefully took the bowl from his large hands, and you could see the steam that came off of it.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your eyes avoiding his as you blew on the hot liquid.

“You might feel hotter for a moment, but this is good; you need a lot of fluids. Now, I’m gonna sit behind you, okay?” You nodded, making enough space for him.

He struggled a little to get behind you, moving softly so he didn’t make you spill any of the soup. “Are you comfortable?” He asked when he finally settled.

“Yes”

“Ok, should I do one or two?” He started brushing your hair. You were right; you were sweating a lot, but he didn’t care; he just wanted to take proper care of his girlfriend, just like you did when he was sick. 

“Two”

“Okay. They might not turn out the best, though. I’m not a great hairstylist, but they will help.” You chuckled, knowing he was right, but that was the least of your worries. 

You stayed like that for a few minutes. It didn’t take him long to figure out how to put two braids on you without pulling your hair or making your headache worse. "Done,” he said, getting back on his feet and taking a good look at how you looked with braided hair. His heartbeats began to increase. “You look really cute,” he said as he tilted his head, admiring you.

Your face was burning, and it wasn’t the fever. “Thank you. I actually do feel much better.” And you did; you were surprised at how lighter your head felt without all that hair resting on your face or shoulders.

“See? I told you.” He then kissed his fingertip and tapped your nose with it, making you melt at his touch ”Finish your soup. I’m gonna see if we still have that humidifier.”

He stepped out of the room once again, leaving you alone. Somehow, you already felt better, even though everything hurt the same. But you had to admit that the hot soup was a good call.

Once you were done with it, you laid back down carefully, not wanting to ruin the freshly styled hair. And only a few minutes later, you heard the door again, “No luck with the humidifier, but this will help too.” You paid attention to his hands. He was holding a bucket and a dry cloth in one hand and a bottle of water and some pills in the other. “Just this one last thing, and I’ll let you go back to sleep,” he said, as if he was bothering you; you didn’t feel like he was. If anything, it was the other way around, and you should be the one apologising. He put down the bucket next to the bed and waited for you to sit again, this time paying attention to your damp shirt. “Why don’t you change into some new clothes?”

You looked down at your shirt and felt embarrassed when you noticed how much it looked like you had been drowned in a rainstorm. It didn’t look that bad before, but it must’ve been the hot liquids. “Okay,” you agreed, about to get up, but he stopped you.

He wandered around your shared room, grabbing clean clothes that he believed would be comfortable for you to wear. He didn’t want you to feel too hot or too cold again, so he went for a happy medium. A shirt and underwear. You probably shouldn’t deal with too many layers anyway. “Here, I’ll help you change.”

He helped you with everything, which you were really thankful for since your body was too weak and in pain to do it by yourself. Tossing the dirty clothes somewhere in the room, he proceeded to grab the pillows he had previously set on the bed and started arranging them around you to make your uncomfortable state a little more pleasant.

“Are you comfortable?” He asked, looking down at you, and you nodded in response, “Sure?”

"Positive.” Even your voice was weak.

After you were settled, he grabbed the pills and handed them to you, going for the water bottle next “This is for your headache.” He waited for you to take them and watched you get comfortable again. He then reached into the bucket and completely submerged the cloth, making sure all the excess water was cleared before moving it away from the bucket. He stroked it over your face a few times. “You’re all good now. Why don’t you try to sleep?”

You looked up at him in pure admiration, “Thank you, baby.”

“For what?”

“For taking care of me,” you rasped out.

“What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t take care of my sick girlfriend?” You could swear you had literal heart eyes right now. “You took care of me when I was sick, and I´m pretty sure this is my fault.”

“It’s not your fault, but you should probably get out of here. I don’t wanna get you sick again, your home race is next.” 

He shook his head and sat on the chair that was a few feet away from the bed. “What if you need something and I’m not here?”

You smiled at him again, but suddenly remembered what you were supposed to be doing. He must’ve noticed the change in your face. 

“What’s wrong?” He asked, kneeling next to you again as his hand rested on your cheek.

“Are you mad at me?”

“What? Why would I be mad at you?”

“For ruining our date.”

“Darling, we have a lifetime ahead of us. We have plenty of time to go on dates.”

Those words made you feel a million things at the same time, tears threatening to leave your eyes. “I love you.”

“I love you more,” he replied, his smile so big and sincere that his dimples made an appearance. “Try to get some sleep, yeah?”

You went back to sleep, and luckily this time you managed to rest for hours. In the meantime, Lando stayed on the bed next to you, doing some work to stay busy and awake, while he kept an eye on you in case you needed him. 

The hours went by, and your fever went away, finally. You woke up around 4 PM, slowly opening your eyes and squinting at the sudden brightness.

You scanned the room looking for Lando, but he was nowhere to be found. You figured it made sense that he left. You didn’t really expect him to stay there all day and waste his free day just to be with you.

You tried to get up, but your body still felt heavy. You groaned in pain and fell on your back again, strangely still feeling tired even after sleeping for hours. Before you could try again, Lando was entering the room.

“You came back,” you managed to say.

“Yeah, sorry. I was just getting you some tea.” He approached you and touched your forehead, relieved that you weren’t hot anymore. “How are you feeling?”

"Better,” you replied, not so sure you wanted him to get worried. “I guess my throat still hurts.”

“I figured, but this honey and lemon tea will help with that.” He smiled at you but when you didn’t move, he could feel the worry come back to him “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t like tea.”

“Tell your cold that.” You pouted like a little kid, but Lando’s face remained neutral as he waited for you to take the cup. “I know you don’t like tea, but I promise this will help. Besides, weren’t you giving me tea all the time when I was sick?” 

You gave in and took it, knowing he was right, and honestly, you would do anything to ease your sore throat.

You started drinking it, slowly but surely. It didn’t taste as bad as you remembered, and you started wondering if your mom was just bad at making tea. “Would you cuddle with me? If it’s not too gross.” You asked out of nowhere.

“Gross? Why-?”

“Because I have been sweating a lot, and it’s not like I took a shower yet,” you explained, a little embarrassed.

“Were you grossed out when I was the sick one asking for cuddles?”

You answered immediately, “No, but you weren’t this sick.”

“C’mon, don’t be silly.” He was happy you wanted to cuddle. Since he got there in the morning, he was concerned that you just wanted him out of there. Carefully, he got in bed with you, sitting against the headboard and getting into a comfortable position. He waited for you to lay down and nestled you between his legs, with your back against his front.

“Thank you for staying with me. I feel much better with you.”

“Really? Because for a moment there, it felt like you didn’t want me here.”

“I do, I really do. I just-” You stopped for a moment to think about your words “I don’t wanna be a burden.”

“Y/N, you know I would never think that.” He was brushing your check.

“Still, you wasted your free day and stayed here all day… for me. We couldn’t even go out like you wanted to.” You then felt guilty about your realisation. “Did you eat something today?”

“I did; I ordered something while you slept. I wanted to get some lunch for you too, but I wasn't sure for how long you’d be asleep. Are you hungry?”

“Not really,” he nodded, even though you couldn’t see him. “I’m still tired.”

Lando had been sick before, and he knew it was exhausting to deal with it, but he doesn’t remember a cold taking him down like that. Still, he agreed to stay there with you while you went to sleep. Again.

A while went by, and he didn’t notice when you started to drift off, but when he felt you shivering on top of him, he opened his eyes quickly.

You were freezing cold, to the point where your teeth were chattering, but your skin was so hot that he could melt chocolate on your forehead. He knew that your fever coming back and your temperature going up so quickly were bad signs.

“Y/N?” He whispered, softly moving you, “Y/N, are you okay?”

“Mhm?” You hummed. You were holding the blanket tighter and closer to your body.

“How are you feeling?” He kept a low voice, not wanting to overwhelm you.

“I’m freezing.” He was about to embrace you again, but was interrupted when you abruptly sat on the bed. “I think I’m gonna throw up.”

He followed your actions and reached down for the bucket that was still next to the bed and placed it between your legs. ‘Not good,’ he kept thinking, rubbing your back for comfort “If that’s the case, then you’re worse than I thought, sweetheart; we might have to go to the doctor.” You didn’t like the seriousness of his voice.

“I don’t like hospitals.”

“Well, I don’t care whether you like it or not; your fever is coming back and you’re feeling nauseous. I don’t think that’s normal for a cold. You are literally shaking.”

“I’ll be fine. I just need to sleep a little more.”

“I know you don’t want to, but we really need to see a doctor.” You didn’t say anything, hoping he would just forget about that, but of course he wouldn’t. “Everything is gonna be okay. You’re here with me right now, aren’t you?” You stayed silent. “Come on, I’m gonna take you to the hospital, and I promise you’ll feel better, okay?” You nodded. You knew he was taking care of you, good care of you, but anything related to sickness, doctors, or hospitals scared you for some reason. “Hey, I’m not gonna let anything bad happen to you. You’re safe with me. I promise,” he said, raising his pinky in front of you, satisfied when you locked it with your own.

[romugh]

SENSUAL FREQUENCIES - NR

ROMUGH’S KINKTOBER

october 5th — phone sex, praise kink, orgasm control PART 2 TO SENSUAL UNRAVELING

DAY FOUR || kinktober masterlist || 2024.

pairing- g!p!avenger!natasha romanoff x avenger!reader

cw- 18+!!; top!reader, g!p!bottom!natasha, phone sex, heavyyy praise kink, orgasm control, orgasm denial, mommy kink (SHE/HER PRONOUNS USED ONCE FOR READER i think) edging, slight degradation, 6k of pure phone sex guys, the beloved fleshlight making an appearance! natty would definitely give it a name tbh

wc- 6.5k *proud face*

a/n- could be read as a standalone. have fun reading, hornballs!! beware of the warnings :) also!!!!!!!! yesterday's (4/10) fic was going to be dedicated to someone for their birthday, but since i didn't post it i'll dedicate both this one and the originally planned one (that'll be posted tomorrow!). happy (belated, sorry) you, sweet @godhatesgoodgirls !!

prompts- phone sex, praise kink, orgasm control

synopsis- natasha misses you when you're away on a mission, so she takes you up on that "i'm just a phone call away if you get stuck" (except she's not stuck, she's hard, and she needs you to make it better).

taglist?- @lost-mortemanghel, @idkwhatever580, @elliecoochieeater, @left-and-right-up-and-down, @deadlesbianwitches

Natasha groaned, burying her face in her hands. “I can’t believe you...” “Believe it, Nat,” you teased, pulling her hands away from her face so you could see her flushed expression again. “I’m just a phone call away if you get stuck.”

Natasha had always prided herself on her control. She was composed, steady, able to focus under pressure no matter the situation. It was a skill she’d honed over the years, something that had kept her alive through missions, battles, and everything in between. But today, control was the last thing on her mind.

She had been throbbing all day.

It started as a soft ache, something she could ignore at first—just the usual longing for you, the way her body craved your touch, your voice, especially after so many weeks apart. You had been on an undercover mission for nearly seven weeks now. Seven long, lonely weeks without you by her side. It wasn’t unusual for either of you to be away for extended periods of time, but this mission had been different. She hadn’t seen your face in weeks, hadn’t heard your voice in days, and your last message had been three days ago, a short, cryptic text that gave her little reassurance. You’d told her this mission would be demanding, but Natasha hadn’t expected to miss you this much.

It wasn’t just the physical absence of you that hurt—it was the silence. The nights felt longer, the spaces between her texts to you emptier. She had filled the gaps with her own updates, sending you messages about everything and nothing. She sent you a good morning and goodnight every day, even if you wouldn’t reply. She told you what she ate, told you about the book she was reading (Tony had gifted it to her when he noticed her sulking, in that way he pretended wasn’t caring but totally was), and she told you about her workouts, debriefing you on everything she’d do. But now, after three days of silence from you and weeks of no calls, she felt a gnawing emptiness in her chest that matched the heat spreading through her body.

Her mind wandered back to you constantly, no matter what she did to distract herself. She had trained with Wanda earlier, sparred with Steve, attempted to cook with Vision (disastrous. She’s glad you weren’t there to see that chaos), even buried herself in the book Tony had given her. Nothing worked. All day long, the ache between her legs had only worsened, the throb of need pulsing stronger and stronger until it hurt. Every shift of her hips, every brush of fabric against her skin made her dizzy with want.

She had never been this horny in her life—not to the point that it was painful.

Natasha leaned back on the couch, letting out a frustrated sigh. She was a mess, and she knew it. Her thighs were slick with arousal, her body hypersensitive to every little movement. She tried to close her legs, to dull the ache, but it didn’t help. Nothing would help. Not unless it was you.

She thought about touching herself—her hand hovering over the waistband of her pants more than once. But she stopped herself every time. She knew it wouldn’t be enough. It never was. Her hand wouldn’t feel like yours, wouldn’t wrap around her the same way, wouldn’t tease her until she was dripping, desperate, begging for release. She didn’t want to do it herself. She couldn’t. Not when she knew how much better it would feel with you here, guiding her, taking control.

Her mind wandered to the fleshlight you had given her as a gift—a night she wouldn’t forget. She had been so shy about it at first, so unsure of how to use it without your help. That night had been the first time she had really let go, let you guide her, and the thought of using it again made her body ache even more. But it wasn’t the toy she wanted. The toy wasn’t you.

Natasha swallowed hard, her fingers curling into the cushions of the couch as she resisted the urge to move, to give in. Her cock twitched, swollen and painfully hard, straining against her pants. She had never felt this desperate before, not even when you were still just friends, dancing around your feelings. This need was overwhelming, consuming, and it was starting to drive her insane.

She had been on edge all day, her body vibrating with tension, her mind flooded with memories of you—your touch, your scent, the sound of your voice in her ear, coaxing her to let go. Her breath hitched just thinking about it, about how easily you could make her unravel. Her own hand couldn’t replicate that feeling, not even close. And her fleshlight? It wasn’t your mouth. It wasn’t your hand. Nothing was.

Her phone sat next to her on the couch, the screen black and mocking her with its silence. She hadn’t called you once during your mission, knowing better than to interrupt you, especially if you were in the middle of something crucial. But today? Today was different. She wasn’t thinking clearly anymore—her mind too clouded by the throbbing between her legs, the constant pulse of her need.

She had texted you countless times, but now her fingers hovered over your name, hesitating. Was it too much? Would you even be able to answer? What if you were in danger, or worse, what if her call put you in harm’s way?

Her heart raced as she stared at the phone, her thumb shaking slightly as she fought against the rising tide of desperation that threatened to take over. She bit her lip, trying to calm herself down, but the ache between her legs was relentless. She needed you. Now.

Before she could stop herself, her fingers moved on their own, dialling your number. The phone rang once, twice, and her breath caught in her throat. Each ring echoed in her ears, the tension in her body growing with every second that passed. Her hand clenched around the phone, her entire body trembling with need.

The moment your phone vibrated in your pocket, you felt your heart stop. You were just out of a tense situation—dangerous, even by your standards. You had barely slipped away, adrenaline still buzzing in your veins when you felt your phone buzz repeatedly.

Natasha.

It had been weeks since you last had her in your arms, and you hadn’t spoken on the phone in what felt like forever. But for her to call now, with no warning? Something was wrong. You didn’t even think, barely took the time to check your surroundings, before you ducked into a secluded corner and answered the call. Your voice came out in a rush, thick with worry.

“Nat? What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

There was a beat of silence on the other end, and your heart clenched in your chest. You could hear her breathing—shallow, uneven, almost... trembling. Your mind raced, picturing the worst. Was she hurt? Had something happened to her while you were away?

“Natasha?”

She almost groaned at the sound of your voice. Her body reacted instantly, a wave of heat flooding through her, the ache between her legs intensifying until it was almost unbearable. She hadn’t realised she’d been holding her breath until it escaped her in a shaky exhale.

“Natasha?” you pressed, trying to keep your voice steady despite the panic bubbling inside you. “Talk to me, baby. What happened?”

Another shaky breath, then her voice, “I... I need you.”

Natasha pressed her thighs together, but it did nothing to ease the pulsing in her core. She clenched the phone tightly, her voice dropping into a whisper. She didn’t care about pride anymore. She didn’t care about anything except the fact that she needed you.

Your heart skipped a beat, your stomach twisting with concern. You had heard Natasha vulnerable before, but this? This was different. She sounded desperate, almost like she was on the verge of tears, and it made your chest tighten.

“Nat, are you hurt? Where are you?” you asked, your voice soft but insistent. “I’ll be there as fast as I can, just tell me what happened. I can finish up the mission tomorrow if you need–”

“No, I’m not—” Her voice cracked, and she took a shaky breath, trying to steady herself. “I’m not hurt, I just... I can’t...”

You felt a wave of confusion wash over you. She wasn’t hurt, but something was clearly wrong. You pressed the phone tighter to your ear, your mind racing, trying to piece together what she was trying to say. She wasn’t making sense.

“Nat, you’re scaring me. What do you mean? Can’t what?”

There was another long pause on her end, the sound of her breathing heavy and uneven, like she was struggling to get the words out. And then it hit you—a soft, strangled noise that wasn’t a sob, but... something else.

Realisation flickered in the back of your mind, and suddenly the pieces began to fall into place.

“Natasha,” you said slowly, your tone shifting, softening. “What’s going on, baby?”

“I... I can’t stop thinking about you,” she whispered, her voice trembling with need. “It hurts.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, the concern from moments before slowly melting into something else, something warmer, something more. The tension in her voice, the way she struggled to say the words—it wasn’t pain. Not the kind you’d feared. It was something else entirely.

But she still wasn’t saying it. Not exactly. And as much as you wanted to rush to her side, to help her through whatever it was she needed, part of you couldn’t help but play along. You could almost picture her on the other end of the line, flushed, embarrassed, trying to find the right words but too shy to admit what she really wanted.

“Natty,” you murmured, letting a teasing lilt slip into your voice. “Are you sure you’re okay? You sound... off.”

“I—I’m fine,” she stammered, but her breath hitched, and the lie was as clear as day.

“You don’t sound fine. You sound like you’re upset. Or... something.”

“I’m not upset,” she blurted out quickly, the words rushing out in a desperate attempt to save face. There was another pause, and then, quieter, almost like she didn’t want to admit it. “I just... I miss you.”

You let the silence hang between you for a moment, pretending not to understand her meaning. She was trying so hard to make you understand without saying the words. And as much as you wanted to be there for her, to give her what she needed, you weren’t going to make it easy for her.

“Miss me, huh?” you teased lightly, playing dumb. “Well, I miss you too. But you sound like you’ve been crying. Are you sure you’re not hurt?”

“No, I’m not crying!” she snapped, more frustrated with herself than with you. “I just... I—” She broke off, the words catching in her throat as she tried to gather her thoughts, tried to figure out how to make you understand.

“Natasha,” you said softly, your tone firm but gentle. “Tell me what’s going on. I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what you need.”

“I can’t—fuck, I can’t say it,” she groaned, her voice dropping to a whisper. She sounded so defeated, so completely undone by her own need, and it made your chest tighten. You could practically feel her squirming on the other end of the line, trying to hold it together, but barely hanging on.

You bit back a smile, leaning against the wall as your voice dropped lower, more teasing. “You can’t say what, Natty? Come on, baby, use your words.”

There was a long pause, and you could hear her breathing pick up again, more shallow this time. You could practically feel the tension through the phone, the way she was struggling with herself, so desperate to ask for what she needed but too embarrassed to say it.

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” she finally admitted, her voice shaky, desperate. “I—fuck, I need you so bad. It’s... it’s been like this all day. It hurts.”

The vulnerability in her voice made your heart ache. But still, she was avoiding the words, the real admission. And you wanted to hear it. You wanted her to say it, to surrender completely to the need she was so clearly drowning in.

“I’m here, Nat. I’m listening,” you said gently, your tone coaxing. “But you need to tell me what’s really going on. I’m not a mind reader, baby.”

She let out a frustrated noise, somewhere between a whine and a groan, and you could almost picture her clenching her fists, trying to find the courage to say the words.

“I’m... I’m so wet, okay?” she blurted out, her voice shaking. “I can’t stop thinking about you, and it’s so bad, i’m so hard, I can’t—” She cut herself off again, her breath hitching. “I need you to tell me what to do. It hurts, Mommy. It really fucking hurts.””

Her admission hung in the air, raw and vulnerable, and she could almost hear your heart quicken on the other end of the line. There was a long silence, and Natasha thought she might burst from the anticipation, her skin burning under the weight of it.

Your heart had skipped a beat at her words, the raw honesty in her admission making your chest tighten. But still, you couldn’t help but tease her a little more. 

She had made you worry, after all.

“You’re wet?” you asked, your voice dropping lower, teasing. “Is that it? That’s why you called me?”

“Yes,” she whimpered, her voice barely a whisper now. “Please, I can’t—fuck, I need you to tell me what to do. Please.”

You took a breath, letting her words hang in the air, savouring the way she had finally given in. And then, in a low, soothing tone, you said:

“Take off your clothes for me, Natty. Slowly. Let me hear you.”

There was a moment of silence after you told her to undress, and you could hear the hitch in her breath, the soft gasp as your words sunk in. Natasha’s mind was racing, her body trembling with a mix of need and nervousness, but more than anything, she wanted to be good for you. She wanted to please you, to do exactly what you told her.

“Okay,” she whispered, her voice shaking slightly. “I’ll do it. I’ll... I’ll be good.”

Her words sent a thrill through you, but you kept your tone steady, soothing, teasing her just enough to push her deeper into that space where all she could think about was you.

“Good girl,” you murmured, and you heard a soft whimper in response. Natasha’s breathing picked up, her body already reacting to the praise, her mind slipping into that sweet haze where she craved more of it—needed more of it. “Take your time, baby. Slowly. I want to hear everything.”

There was a rustle of fabric on the other end of the line, the sound of Natasha obeying, of her fingers fumbling with the buttons of her pants, her breathing shallow and uneven. She moved slowly, like you asked, and you could almost picture her—her flushed cheeks, her trembling hands, her cock throbbing painfully as she stripped for you.

“Tell me what you’re doing, Nat,” you coaxed softly, letting your voice drip with sweetness. “I want to know how you look right now. Tell me everything.”

“I... I took off my pants,” she whispered, her voice shaky with both arousal and embarrassment. “I’m just in my... my shirt.”

“Good job, Любимая моя [Lyubimaya moya, my darling]. What else?”

Her breath hitched, and there was another pause, like she was hesitating, but the need to hear your praise drove her forward.

“I—I’m taking it off. My shirt.” There was a soft rustle, followed by the quiet sound of her breath, the vulnerability in her voice sending a rush of heat through you.

“Good. You’re doing so well for me, Natty.” The words were like honey, soft and coaxing, and you could hear her shiver in response.

“Tell me how you feel, baby.”

“I... I feel so... hot,” she whimpered, her voice trembling. “I’m... I’m dripping, fuck... I need you so bad, Mommy.”

The admission slipped out before she could stop it, her voice shaking as she tried to keep herself together. But your praise was unravelling her, making her mind foggy, making her want to give in completely.

“Oh, sweet girl... you need me that bad, huh?” you teased, your voice soft but commanding. “Can you feel how wet you are?”

“Yes,” she whimpered again, her voice barely above a whisper. “I—I’m so wet. It’s all over my thighs. I—I can’t stop... I don’t know what to do.”

The helplessness in her voice made your chest tighten, but in a way that sent a surge of heat through you. Natasha was always so composed, so in control, but right now? She was unravelling, falling apart under the weight of her own need, and it was because of you. And you could hear how much she needed your approval, your guidance—how much she wanted to hear you say that she was being good for you.

“Touch yourself for me, Natty,” you said, your voice dropping into something firmer, but still gentle enough to coax her forward. “You’re doing so well already, baby. Just let Mommy hear you.”

There was a soft gasp, and you could practically feel her hesitation, her trembling hand hovering over herself, uncertain. You waited, your breath steady, listening as she slowly obeyed, her fingers brushing against her cock with a soft, desperate moan.

“Fuck,” she whimpered, the sound raw and needy. “I—I can’t... it’s not the same. It’s not you.”

You smiled at the frustration in her voice, the way she was already slipping into that headspace where all she could think about was you. You leaned back against the wall, your own arousal building at the thought of her coming undone, of her needing you this badly.

“I know, baby,” you murmured, your tone soft but firm. “But you’re doing so well for me. Keep touching yourself, just like that. You’re so good, Natty. Mommy’s good girl.”

The praise hit her like a wave, and she moaned, louder this time, her breath hitching as she stroked herself, her hand moving slowly, trembling with the need for more. But she didn’t want to go too fast. She didn’t want to disappoint you.

“I can’t—fuck, I’m so close already,” she gasped, her voice breaking. “Please, I—I can’t come yet, I need you.”

“Oh, baby,” you cooed, the warmth in your voice making her whimper. “You’re doing so well. But I think you can wait a little longer for me, don’t you? I can’t make you come yet, can I?”

Her breath caught in her throat, her body shivering at your words, at the way you teased her so sweetly. She wanted to come, needed to come, but she didn’t want to disobey you. She wanted to be good for you.

“Я знаю [Ya znayu, I know],” she whimpered, her voice soft, almost pleading. “I won’t. I’ll be good.”

“Good girl,” you praised again, and she shuddered, her body trembling as she tried to hold herself together, tried to keep from spilling over the edge. Her mind was yours now, clouded by the need for release, but your words—your praise—kept her tethered, kept her from giving in.

“Does it feel good, Nat?” you asked, your voice smooth and coaxing. “Do you like being Mommy’s good girl? Letting me hear you fall apart?”

“Yes,” she gasped, her voice thick with arousal. “Yes, please... please tell me more. I need... I need you.”

Her desperation made your heart swell, and you let the teasing lilt in your voice drop lower, more commanding, more intimate.

“You’re doing so well for Mommy, baby. I love hearing you like this. So desperate, so needy... you’re such a good girl for me, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” she moaned, her body arching, trembling with the effort to hold back. “I’m... I’m your good girl. Please... I don’t know if I can...”

“You can,” you murmured, your voice soft but firm, coaxing her back from the edge. “You’re so strong, baby. You can wait for me. You want to be perfect for me, don’t you?”

“I do,” she whimpered, her voice breaking. “I—I want to be good for you. I’ll wait, I promise.”

The praise, the control, the way you spoke to her—it was driving her mad. Her mind was slipping further into that haze, the only thing keeping her grounded was the sound of your voice, the warmth of your words. She wanted to make you proud, wanted to hear you tell her she was good. She needed it.

“You’re so good, Natty,” you cooed, your voice dripping with praise. “So perfect for me. I want you to keep touching yourself, but don’t come. You have to wait for Mommy to be back.”

She moaned again, her hand trembling as she continued to stroke herself, her body shaking with the effort to hold back. She was so close, the heat in her belly coiling tighter, but she wanted to be good. She wanted to wait for your permission.

“Please,” she gasped, her voice breaking. “Please, I—fuck, I really don’t know if I can...”

“You can, baby,” you murmured, your voice soft but commanding. “You’re doing so well. I know it hurts, but I want you to hold on just a little longer. For me, for Mommy.”

Natasha whimpered, her body trembling with the effort to stay in control, but your words were like a lifeline, keeping her grounded, keeping her focused. She wanted to make you proud, wanted to be your good girl.

“I’m so close,” she whimpered, her voice shaking. “Please... please, can I...?”

You smiled, hearing the desperation in her voice, knowing she was teetering right on the edge. 

“Not yet, baby,” you whispered, your voice low and teasing. “You need to wait for Mommy.”

The streets of Budapest were eerily quiet, save for the soft rhythm of your boots on the pavement. You were slipping through the shadows like a ghost, your focus razor-sharp despite the chaos you’d just escaped. Yes, the mission has been rough—rougher than you’d like to admit—but the adrenaline in your veins was now blending with something else, something far more potent.

Natasha was falling apart on the other end of the line, her breath shaky, thick with desperation. The sound of her voice—strained, needy—made you quicken your pace, eager to get somewhere private, somewhere you could finally give her your undivided attention. The safehouse was just a few blocks away now, nestled in a quiet corner of the city, secluded enough for what you had in mind.

“Please,” Natasha whimpered, her voice trembling. You could hear the slick sound of her hand stroking herself, painfully slow, just as you’d ordered. She was holding back, her body strung so tightly with need it was almost unbearable. “I need it, please… I can’t—fuck—I can’t hold it anymore.”

You smiled to yourself, weaving through the darkened alleyway. You could practically see her in your mind—Natasha, laid bare on her bed, her face flushed, her chest heaving, her cock swollen and leaking as she desperately tried to obey you. She was so close, right on the edge, but she was yours. And you weren’t going to let her have it.

“Natasha,” you murmured, your voice low, teasing. “You sound so desperate, baby. Is it really that bad? Are you really that needy for me?”

“Yes,” she gasped, her breath hitching. Her hand faltered, her muscles tightening as she tried to hold back. “Yes, I—I can’t… I can’t stop thinking about you. I—fuck, please, I need to come. Please.”

You hummed, letting her hear the amusement in your voice. “But, Natty… you want to be my good girl, right?”

“Yes,” she whimpered, her voice breaking. “Yes, I’ll be good, I promise, just please—”

“But you’re not being good, baby,” you interrupted, your voice sharp, commanding. “You’re being a slut, aren’t you? Look at you, touching yourself. You keep begging Mommy to come like that. That’s not what my good girl would do, is it? Mommy’s good girl would listen after the first time, am i right?”

Natasha’s breath caught in her throat, a soft, broken whine slipping from her lips. “N-no… yes, I want to be your good girl, I—”

“But you’re not,” you said, your tone dripping with condescension. “You’re being a slut right now. You can’t even control yourself, can you?”

A choked sob escaped her, her hand trembling as she tried to keep going, her body shaking with the effort to hold back. The degradation stung, but the praise was still there, woven through your words, and it only made her need you more. She wanted to be good, to be your best girl, but the way you were talking to her—so condescending, so cruel—it was driving her wild.

“I—I’m sorry,” she gasped, her voice thick with desperation. “I’m sorry, I’ll be good, I promise. Please, I don’t want to be your slut, I want to be your—”

“My princess?” you finished for her, your voice softening just a fraction, laced with sweet, saccharine praise. “You want to be my good girl, my best girl, right? Not my needy little slut?”

“Yes,” she cried out, her voice barely holding together. “Yes, I want to be your princess, I want to be your good girl, I—fuck, please, I’ll do anything, just make me come.”

You grinned, stepping into the small, darkened safehouse. The lock clicked behind you, the space around you dim and secluded. You’d finally made it, alone, safe for now.

“Oh, baby,” you cooed, your voice softening as you heard her soft, broken sobs through the phone. “I know you want to be my good girl. But right now? You’re acting like such a desperate whore for me. You don’t even deserve to come, do you?”

Natasha let out a choked whine, her entire body shaking as she balanced on the edge of control. Her hand was trembling, dripping with pre-cum as she tried to keep herself from going over the edge, but it was torture—pure, sweet torture. She needed you. Needed you to tell her she was good, to let her have that release, but you were holding it just out of reach, dangling it in front of her like a cruel tease.

“Please,” she whimpered again, her voice cracking. “Please, I’m—I’m trying so hard to be good. I’ll be good, I promise. I can’t… fuck, I can’t take it anymore.”

You sighed softly, walking into the office in the safehouse, your legs spread as you leaned back, relaxing into the chair by the desk. “Natasha, you’re such a mess right now,” you murmured, your voice low, soothing, but with that familiar edge of command. “But I know you can take it. You’ve been so strong for me, haven’t you? Holding back for so long…”

“Yes,” she whimpered, her voice raw with need. “Yes, I’ve been waiting, I’ve been so good for you, please—”

“So be my good girl, princess,” you murmured, your voice softening as Natasha let out another soft, broken sob. “You’re doing so well, baby. I know it hurts, but you’re being so good for me.”

You could hear her breath hitch, hear the way she was barely holding on. She was so close to breaking, so close to losing herself completely, and it was all for you.

The sound of her ragged breathing, the way her voice shook with every word, sent a surge of heat through you. Natasha was hanging by a thread, teetering between pleasure and desperation, and you could feel the weight of her need through the phone. You knew she was doing everything she could to be good for you, to wait, but she was unravelling faster than even she realised.

“Tell me what it feels like,” you demanded softly, your voice firm but sweet, pushing her further into her own torment. You could imagine the way her hand must be moving now, slower than she wanted, the way her hips twitched involuntarily as she edged herself at your command. “Describe it to Mommy, Natty.”

“It—” she choked out, her voice faltering. “It feels like I’m going to break, Mommy. It’s… fuck, my hand, I—my cock hurts, I can’t… I can’t breathe.”

Her voice was soaked with frustration, and you bit your lip, letting out a soft, pleased hum. You could hear her trying so hard to be obedient, to control herself despite the overwhelming need coursing through her, and it only made your smirk grow.

“Hurts, doesn’t it?” you teased, a sadistic edge creeping into your voice. “Your cock’s aching so bad right now, huh? I bet it’s leaking all over you, isn’t it, baby? Tell me how bad you need to come.”

“It’s—oh, god,” she whimpered, her voice cracking. “It’s leaking so much, I can feel it all over my stomach. I’m throbbing, I’m so fucking close—fuck—I can’t take it, please make me come, I can’t do it, I need you, please Mommy–.”

You could practically see it—Natasha, spread out, her cock flushed red and swollen, slick with pre-cum that smeared across her trembling abdomen. Her eyes would be squeezed shut, biting down on her lip to keep herself from crying out, her right hand clenched into a fist, nails digging into her palm as she fought to hold on.

Your grip on her was total, and the realisation sent a wave of satisfaction coursing through you. Natasha Romanoff—deadly, lethal Natasha—reduced to a trembling, desperate mess by just the sound of your voice. You could feel her helplessness, her submission, and it thrilled you to no end.

“Good girl,” you purred, your voice soft and encouraging. “But you’re not going to come yet. You’re going to hold on, Natty. Hold on just a little longer for me. You want to make me proud, don’t you?”

“Yes,” she sobbed, her voice raw and strained. “Yes, I want to make you proud. Please, Mommy, I’ll do anything, just—”

“Go faster.”

You felt the excitement thrumming through your veins as you pressed Natasha further, enjoying the control you held over her. “Go faster, Natty baby,” you instructed, your voice low and teasing. “I want to hear how badly you want me to make you come. Let me hear you.”

A soft whimper escaped her, and you could almost hear her heart racing. “I can’t… I can’t go faster. I’m so close, I’ll…” she stammered, her voice thick with desperation.

“Stop whining, baby. You can do this for me,” you replied, relishing in her struggle. “I know you want to make Mommy proud, you can make me proud. Just a little faster. I want to hear you begging, to feel that need spilling from you.”

With that, you could hear her hand moving more frantically now, the slick sound of her strokes filling the silence between your breaths. “Oh god, Mommy,” she gasped, her voice trembling. “I need to… I can’t hold on much longer.”

“Not yet,” you said firmly, a wicked grin forming on your lips. “You need to hold it. Your orgasm is mine to control, Natty. You’re too much of a dumb slut, too much of a beautiful princess to be able to decide for yourself, okay?”

The sound of her breath hitched, a soft sob escaping her as the heat of your words washed over her. “Please,” she pleaded, her voice breaking. “I’m trying… but it hurts.”

“Good. It should,” you replied, savouring the pleasure of her torment. “You’ve been so good for me, waiting all this time. I want you to suffer a little longer. Just keep going. You can do it, Natty.”

“Please,” she whimpered again, voice trembling with need. “I’ll do anything, just please make me come.”

Your tone softened, just slightly, “But you’re going to stop. I want you to get the fleshlight.”

There was a pause on the other end, and you could practically hear her heart racing. “Mommy, I—”

“Natalia,” you interrupted, the command in your voice unmistakable. “You’ll get it, or I’ll hang up right now. I mean it.”

The sound of her breath caught, and you could hear her scrambling, rushing to get her toy. “Okay, okay! I’m getting it!” There was a flurry of movement, and you could hear her panting, urgency lacing her every sound.

You chuckled softly, the thrill of her obedience sending a rush through you. “That’s my good girl. I like hearing you move for me.”

Moments later, you heard the unmistakable sound of the fleshlight being picked up. “I have it,” she gasped, her voice strained, and you felt a wave of satisfaction wash over you.

“Now, I want you to use it. Let me hear how bad you want this, Natty, how bad you want your toy to be Mommy.”

You could hear her hesitation, a soft tremble in her breath as she wrestled with her desire and the embarrassment of using the toy you’d given her. But you weren’t going to let her hesitate for long. “I said, use it. Don’t make me repeat myself.”

With a breathless whimper, she complied, the sound of the fleshlight enveloping her cock mixing with her desperate gasps. “Oh god, it feels so good Mommy,” she moaned, her voice thick with pleasure, yet still straining to maintain control

“I want you to feel every second of this. You’re going to edge yourself, baby. You’ll love it.”

With a whimper, she complied, the sound of the fleshlight gliding along her cock blending with her ragged breaths. “Oh god, Mommy, it feels so good,” she moaned, voice thick with pleasure and frustration. “I’m so close, I can’t hold back. Please, don’t make me stop.”

“You know you’re going to stop, Natty,” you replied softly, your voice a mix of honey and steel. “You’re too beautiful, too precious to be allowed to come just yet. You’ve been such a good girl for me, waiting all this time. Hold on. I need you to wait for me a little longer. I want you to remember this, every moment.”

The sound of her whimpering filled the air, the ache of her need palpable through the phone. “Mommy, please,” she sobbed, the emotion raw in her voice. “I’ll do anything—just let me come.”

“Tomorrow,” you said suddenly, a wicked grin spreading across your face. “I’ll finish the mission tomorrow. But for now? You’re going to edge yourself again and then put your toy away. Do you understand?”

“Yes! I understand!” she cried, the desperation spilling from her as she fought against the need clawing at her insides. “But Mommy, you just told me to use—”

“Stop talking, Natasha,” you ordered, your voice firm but tinged with a softness that only you could offer. “I want you to feel everything. I want you to ache for me. You’re mine to control. Just breathe and remember Mommy holds your pleasure in her hands.”

As the tension in Natasha's voice grew, you felt a rush of power coursing through you. “Natasha, put the fleshlight away,” you commanded, each word dripping with authority.

You heard her whine, the sound both obedient and pained. “Mommy, please! I can’t, I just want to—”

“Do it, now,” you pressed, your tone leaving no room for argument. “I want you to put it aside and bind your hands together. You’re not touching yourself anymore. I’ll take care of you when I get back, but right now, you need to obey Mommy, sweet girl.”

With a shuddering breath, she complied, the sound of the fleshlight being set aside echoing in your ears like sweet music. You could almost picture her trembling hands, slick with anticipation and frustration, as she moved to find something to bind herself with.

“Such a good girl,” you murmured, pride swelling within you as you heard the rustling sound of fabric or some material being looped together. “I want you to bind your hands tightly, so you can’t reach for anything. No distractions. Just you and your dirty thoughts until I return.”

“Okay, okay…” she whimpered, the strain evident in her voice as she obeyed. You could hear the soft sound of the material twisting around her wrists, the way she wrapped it securely, trapping herself in a state of helplessness.

“Now, lie on your back,” you instructed, your heart racing at the thought of her vulnerability, the image of her sprawled out, completely at your mercy flooding your mind.

“I’m— I’m lying back,” she gasped, her voice shaky as she followed your command. “Mommy, please…”

“Shh, just relax. You’ll be okay. I want you to breathe, to feel every ache in your body, every ounce of need that courses through you,” you soothed, the intensity of your voice wrapping around her like a warm embrace. “I’ll be back when you wake up, Natty, and I’ll take care of everything. Until then, just let yourself feel. You’re so beautiful when you’re like this.”

Mommy…” she breathed, the sound almost reverent, full of emotion and need.

“Yes, baby?” you prompted softly, sensing the weight of her vulnerability in the frequencies.

“Promise you’ll be back?” she asked, her voice laced with longing.

“I promise,” you replied, your heart swelling with a mix of affection and desire. “Now close your eyes and sleep a bit. I will be back tomorrow to take care of my perfect girl.”

As she lay back, bound and waiting, a rush of vulnerability washed over Natasha. She was utterly yours, her body tingling with need, every sensation heightened as she surrendered to the moment.

Her heart raced as she felt her shaft pressed against her stomach, still hard and aching, leaking pre-cum that smeared over her skin. The fleshlight lay next to her on the bed, abandoned, a reminder of the torment she had endured. Her left hand dripped with her own essence, a tantalising testament to her desperation.

She was yours, completely under your control, even continents away. And you were hers, no matter what.

With that thought, you let the connection linger in the silence, savouring the anticipation of what was to come. Natasha was utterly yours, and the game was far from over.

The urgency coursing through you now had little to do with the objective, and everything to do with the aching desire Natasha had ignited in you. You were ready to be done with it—tonight.

You quickly mapped out an aggressive approach, planning to cut through the final obstacles with swift precision. There was no time for calling Fury or Maria for backup or a Quinjet. That would only delay things. Instead, you booked the first available flight from Norway to the U.S., ready to handle it yourself, eager to get back to her.

As you confirmed the flight, a smirk crept across your lips. Natasha would wake up in a few hours, still tied, still aching for release. But she wouldn’t have to wait much longer. You’d be there soon enough to take care of everything���and her.

[appalachiancowboy99]

After Dark

Arthur Morgan x CurvyFem!Reader Established relationship, high honor, grumpy Arthur in desperate need of release, 18+, MDNI (Minors DO NOT ENTER)

Arthur comes back to camp later than usual, with nothing but a bad disposition and a desperate need to release his pent-up frustrations.

Warnings: longer read, sexual content (oral, unprotected p in v, rough sex), mentions of violence, mentions of anger, and dabbles in sensual fluff.

Gif by: @sunwingsunset

A/N: Thank you so much to @photo1030 for not only being my sounding board in the never-ending chaos that is my writing process but also for being such a wonderful friend through it all. So grateful for you, don't know what I'd do without ya, C! <3 Thank you so much to @rivetingrosie4 for being an inspiration for my little works and being so supportive of my creative endeavors, not to mention the kind generosity of your friendship! Forever grateful for to have met you! @tortureddpoett I'm so excited to explore this budding friendship with you! Thank you so much for showing so much excitement for my work, IT MAKES ME EXCITED (EEP!). It means an absolute ton to me <3 @mr-inkslinger your friendship has been an absolute delight to explore! Thank you for posting that toe-curling smut that always has me giggling and kicking my feet! So happy to have met ya! And thank each and every single one of you for liking my first drabble and expressing interest in this next one. I'm so sorry it's taken me forever to publish this post, but hopefully, the next ones won't take me as long. I'll forever be grateful for your patience and kindness <3 But now, enough of my babbling, y'all enjoy yourselves with this one- I know I did ;)

Fuck. From the second he opened his eyes, he knew that the day was going to be fucking awful; his neck had a crick in it, his head was pounding from what little sleep he’s received over the last few nights, and now he had to trudge back out into the goddamn muggy heat to work. One disaster after another had piled up; everything that could have gone wrong, went so terribly awry that he wound up farther away from camp than he originally intended and managed to add a solid fifteen-dollar bounty to the mounting collection resting atop his head. Dutch had sent him out on a wild goose chase, following a lead from Micah that, of course, ended up being a complete waste of time. And that meant he was coming back to camp empty-handed, which almost certainly meant he'd be on the receiving end of another one of Dutch's lectures on the endless responsibilities placed upon his shoulders. He dreaded it, wanted to avoid spiraling down another conversation that would end in Dutch questioning his faith in the ever-evolving plan he’s found himself working on these days.

As if he needed any of that horseshit tonight. All he wanted was a moment of peace and quiet, a chance to catch his breath after the disaster of a day he'd just had, but instead, he was headed back to camp with nothing but bruises, a bloody lip, and a bad disposition to show for his efforts. Trees and other bits of scenery whipped by in a blur as Arthur spurred his horse onward, his surroundings melting together into a muddy mess of shapes cast by moonlight. He passed through New Hanover, his furious pace leading him down the familiar roads of Lemoyne, reaching the clearing outside of camp. Lenny and John are the first to spot Arthur approaching the thicket of trees disguising Clemens Point's main entrance. “Hey, who goes there?” Lenny’s voice echoes through the forest, bouncing off the thicket until it reaches Arthur’s ears.

“‘S me.” Arthur grunts out through gritted teeth, clearly not in the mood for any chit-chat. Even underneath the shadow of leaves and limbs, the scowl etched upon his face is easily distinguishable, a clear sign for anyone with any common sense to give him a wide berth for the rest of the night. Lenny and John, both, had a pretty good idea of what might happen when Arthur steps foot into camp and they don't want any part of it. As a result, they give each other a little knowing glance and stay in the treeline, preferring to avoid the impending shitstorm and let Dutch or Hosea deal with it instead. He strides past them in a fit of frustration, dismounting his mare with a jerky movement before she's even come to a complete stop. Kieran spots him and hesitantly approaches. That poor fool. "H-Hey, Mr. Morgan. Would ya like me to unsaddle the 'ol gal here?" Kieran's question was nothing more than an innocent query, but his expression turned the young man into a nervous wreck. If looks could kill, Arthur’s certainly could; his steely eyes are set ablaze with annoyance and irritation as he casts a hateful glance in Kieran's direction. Even Kieran knew better than to talk to Arthur when he was in this state, knowing that it would only lead to suffering at the hands of his unbridled wrath. Kieran’s eyes immediately darted to his feet, desperate to avoid Arthur’s icy gaze as his fingers trembled with the frayed ends of rope in his hands. Quickly as to not start any trouble for himself, Kieran took hold of the mare's reigns and led her away to the field of horses, putting as much distance between himself and Arthur as he could. A slight pang of guilt runs through him when he sees the way that Kieran high-tailed it out of his line of sight. He doesn't want to be harsh to the boy, he's been a useful asset to the gang, but his temper is just too far gone for him to muster up an apology. As fast as the angering thoughts snapping through his mind, Arthur turns on his heels and storms into camp in search of Dutch. His boots furiously hit the grass and reddened Lemoyne dirt as he passes by a few of the wandering eyes from those still awake at this late hour. Charles casts him a wary glance, and so does Sadie, but neither of them cares to look long enough to entertain what's about to happen. He passes by his own wagon and heads straight to Dutch's tent. Dutch is nowhere to be seen, yet the lamp light inside casts its soft golden glow upon the closed canvas flaps of the tent, indicating that he might be inside. Not wasting any more time than he has to, Arthur approaches the tent, not bothering to stop and think until it's too late. His hand raises, readying to peel back the canvas flap, when all of a sudden he hears the sweet amorous sounds of lovemaking echo through the night air.  Molly’s sweet voice gasps out between each movement of their squeaking cot, calling out for Dutch as the unmistakable sound of skin slapping skin penetrates through the thin canvas walls, revealing exactly what’s occupying Dutch’s time tonight.

“Oh, Dutch. Don’t stop,” she encourages through strained, unabashed moans of pleasure. Dutch’s deep, husky voice murmurs back something unintelligible, but the increased squeaking of their bed and the filthy little noises coming from Molly are a clear indicator that Arthur should be stepping away to give them some privacy. Embarrassment washes over him, causing a faint rosy flush to heat his face and bloom across his cheeks. For once, he's grateful for the distraction from his current frustration. On most nights, he'd find comfort in your presence, seeking you out to vent his grievances as a distraction from the ever-present aggravation that seemingly follows him around these days. But tonight, he just wants to retreat to his tent, away from everything and everyone, to try to calm down before he says or does something he regrets.

He strides past the dying campfires and tables that are askew from daily camp activities, and his mind tirelessly races from thought to thought, stealing his attention away from his surroundings. If Arthur had even bothered to look, he would have spotted your sleeping form laid out upon his bed the moment he stepped inside. You had been waiting for him all evening. After working yourself to the bone doing laundry, dinner prep, and other camp chores for Ms. Grimshaw all day long, you wandered your way over to Arthur’s tent in search of a quiet place to sit. Part of you wished to find him seated right there on his cot, wanting to simply have a conversation with the man who has stolen your heart, but to your disappointment, he wasn’t anywhere to be found. So, you waited for him.. And waited until the very idea of waiting became too tiresome and you unknowingly fell asleep.

Sneaking away from the gang for private talks with him has been one of your favorite things to do since you joined the gang so long ago. Y'all have always had a knack for avoiding the company of others. But somehow in the midst of squirreling yourselves away, both of you have come to find that you'd prefer being alone together. Eventually, this led to many nights where Arthur would seek you out just to speak his mind, allowing you to see the world through his eyes for a short while. You have not only embraced Arthur's thoughts, but in doing so, you have captured his heart all the same. If it weren't for you, he's certain he'd have lost his damn sanity long ago.

Arthur takes that dusty old gambler's hat off his head and runs his fingers through his hair, taking a moment to calm himself down. His eyes glance over the things laid out upon his bedside table before catching a glimpse of your figure awash by the pale moonlight in his periphery. Your hair is sprawled out over the small blanket you've rolled up into a makeshift pillow; curls flowing like a roaring waterfall, laying a mess, and finally free from the bun that was atop your head earlier in the day. His eyes rake over your voluptuous figure, noting every dip and curve from your plump waist and hips to the ample swell of your breast hidden by a layer of clothing. The moment his mind registers that your presence isn't a dream, his eyes soften and his mind no longer races with anger. You are his peace, the only thing in this world that he cherishes above all else. 

Sighing softly, he finally discards his hat from his hand and places it onto his nightstand before working off his worn leather jacket and satchel, resting them on the back of the chair nearest his shaving mirror. And while he's on his feet, he takes the time to carefully roll down the canvas walls of his tent, unraveling them with the quiet precision of a mouse, and securing them in a few simple knots to hide you two away from the world.

It's quite dark by the time he wanders over to the cot, dark enough not to notice himself brush against your legs as he takes a seat on the edge of the old creaking bed. The familiar, welcomed-warmth of his body pressing against your shins rouses you from your restful slumber. Your eyes flutter open to find his figure perched next to you, shrouded in a darkness so thick that you are sure you're still dreaming. His head and broad shoulders are slumped over as he begins working off his dusty boots, caked with remnants of mud and manure.

"Hmm... Arthur?" Your voice floats through the quiet darkness, laden with fatigue and clearly carrying the lassitude of someone who could fall back asleep at the drop of a hat.

He quickly glances over his shoulder at the sound of your voice, his eyes already adjusted enough to the shadows to see your tired face staring back at him with confusion. He silently curses himself for waking you. "Shhh, Darlin'. Don't wake up on my account. I'll be done in just a minute," Arthur lightly grunts out the last word as he struggles to remove his right boot.

Even in your own weary state, the exhaustion in his tone isn't lost on you. Thinking it best to rouse yourself as quickly as possible to free up his bed for him, you sit yourself up and will yourself awake with a slight stretch. "'S okay. You need rest more 'n me."

"No. You was restin' 'fore I got here. Go 'head and lay back down." He isn't having any of your courtesy tonight. He's worn out, far too tired to argue with you about whether or not it's appropriate for you to share his bed for the night.

The rest of the gang, aside from John, Abigail, Susan, and Hosea know nothing about the true nature of y'all's relationship. Although, the rest of the girls have picked up on the changes you've brought about in Arthur since your arrival so long ago now. Seeing him get all soft and doey-eyed at you over these last few weeks has most definitely tipped them off about what y'all really get up to when you're out running errands together. But they catch wind of you sleeping in his tent tonight, it will all but confirm their suspicions. And yet, you just can't bring yourself to move from the comfort of Arthur's cot with him sitting so close to you.

"What time is it?" The question falls from your lips, carried on the soft currents of a gentle breeze pushing through the tent flaps. Fine sinewy muscles flex beneath his shirt as he leans over to work off his other boot and you are powerless to admire the shape of his body beneath.

A muffled grunt escapes his mouth the moment he finally frees his aching feet from the confines of his boots, "Late," he simply replies.

You take a deep, cleansing breath, allowing the tranquility of the night to settle around you like a soft, comforting blanket. Outside these walls, no sounds of chatter or lively activity can be heard, aside from the gentle hum of crickets by the riverbank and the faint sounds of a squeaking cot stopping abruptly. The gang is unusually quiet, the air filled with repose now that Arthur's returned safely to you. Only a few stragglers tend to the campfires, their focus solely on themselves, interested in anything beyond the flickering flames; not even the sounds of Dutch and Molly or Arthur's irritation can disrupt the peaceful bubble encompassing Clemen's Point tonight.

The plush heel of your palm rubs over one of your eyes as you flit them toward the tent entrance, watching how the wind slightly ruffles the bottom of the canvas. It's only then that you realize that Arthur has tied down the walls for privacy on your account. Normally, he wouldn't bother setting up the walls before collapsing on the cot for a few restless hours of sleep. But tonight, he's gone out of his way to ensure your comfort. Your heart couldn't feel any more full of love for this man by your side, a man who puts your well-being above all else, even above his own. Never did you think that love would have been like this for you: sitting in the comfortable silence of privacy for lovers when that luxury is rarely afforded for women like you. But despite your gratitude for his thoughtfulness, a pang of guilt gnaws at you knowing he made the extra effort while you took up residence in his bed, a cot that's barely big enough for the two of you given your plump frame.

In an attempt to make up for taking up so much space, you roll yourself forward along the thin mattress and quickly slide past him, crawling toward the foot of his bed where his trunk of clothing is kept. You've decided to give him his space for the night, even though in your heart, you'd prefer to stay. Before your foot even slides off the trunk to touch the soft grass below, you're reminded of John stopping by Arthur's tent earlier in the day.

Through a half yawn, you speak, not giving Arthur the chance to catch-on to where you're headed, "'Fore I forget: John stopped by while you was out."

Arthur slightly leans back as his fingertips mindlessly fumble with the buckle of his gun belt. The slight clicking of the metal rings out as he works to remove the clunky accessory from his body. His strong back brushes against you as he moves with the comfortable ease he's come to enjoy over these last few weeks of secretly being yours.

"What about it?" His concentration is split half between himself and the presence of your body behind him.

Your words don't register in his mind until he's completely removed the belt from his body. He figures it was that stagecoach job he reluctantly handed off to John; it had completely slipped from his mind until this very moment, much like yourself. The cool metal filigree atop his trunk moves under your feet as you rest them just shy of slipping off its edge, causing the hazy memory to play out behind your tired eyes.

-

You were just settling yourself in, resting your weary body on the edge of Arthur's cot, just as you're doing now. Little beads of sweat accumulated on your forehead from working out in the intensity of Lemoyne's miserably humid heat. Grimshaw had you and the rest of the women working on camp chores, which you hadn't complained of, since it usually occupies the time until Arthur's usual return. However, the day was far too hot for you to not complain about the harsh conditions she had y'all in. Eventually, evening came and you were finally finished with the laundry, allowing you a moment's rest to seek out the comfort of Arthur's cot.

In the midst of wiping your brow down with one of his neckerchiefs you'd secretly swiped, the hard thump of boots hitting grass caught your attention. You'd anticipated Arthur's arrival, but something didn't feel quite right. The boots didn't move with Arthur's measured stride; they scuffed the grass and dirt, signaling a different, but familiar presence. The moment you look up, you spot John standing at the entrance of the tent, not at all surprised to see you sitting upon his cot as if it were your own.

For a brief moment, his brow furrowed in a mix of frustration and exhaustion. It was as if he was caught between the two warring emotions, each pulling him equally. Clearly, he expected Arthur to be back already.

"He not back yet?" The gruffness of his voice has you believe the former, rather than the latter.

"Not yet," you say in kind, hoping to ease some of his burden. "Was you needin' him for somethin'?"

John did and the news certainly wasn't going to sit well with Arthur at all.

-

When the thoughts finally coalesce within your fatigued mind, you internally grimace knowing that Arthur isn't going to like the reality of the situation. Gentleness has always been your strong suit, especially when it came to dealing with half of the bull-headed men in camp. So, you lace your words with the softest tone you can manage, "Said it weren't as much as y'all had planned on: about fifty-dollars tied up in what little him 'n Charles found."

And you were right. The news doesn't sit well with him at all. All of the compiled frustration of working a nothing-lead and now knowing that the other job didn't pay well either boils beneath the surface of his skin until he explodes like a whistling kettle. Preventing himself from lashing out at you, Arthur kicks his boot toward the other side of the tent, knocking it into the chair. The loud thunk of its sole hitting wood claps harshly and causes you to flinch, startling you fully awake from the suddenness of noise and his movement.

"Every goddamn day it's some shit," he spits through his teeth.

Although you know he'd never intentionally hurt you, the anger in his voice sends a cold shiver down your spine and your stomach flips and churns in knots. Usually, you'd blame yourself, reprimanding your big mouth for even opening up to mention something that you knew wouldn't bode well for his weary mind. But you're in too much of a shock to even consider self-deprecation as an option. Your wide eyes search through the darkness, watching the shadowed outline of the man you love heave in a deep breath to steal his nerves. His shoulders slump forward and head hangs low as he rests his elbows on his knees, utterly defeated from the compiled anger and exhaustion coursing through him.

It's at this moment that you remember the job Dutch sent him on earlier in the day; Arthur didn't want to go and had very little sleep after working on yet another lead that barely got them anywhere. If it had been left up to you, you would've made Arthur stay right here in this bed to get some rest like he deserves. You would've taken care of him so tenderly, but, as usual, what Dutch wanted would have far outweighed any of your concerns. You've learned to recognize the pattern of these situations by now, and given Arthur's aggression, assuming that today's job didn't go quite as planned would be hitting the nail right on its head. You test the waters with a quiet question, "Lead didn't pan out today, did it?"

The soft shake of Arthur's head, coupled with the shadow of his palm running over his face tells you all that you need to know: no, it hadn't gotten him any farther than where he had started. Another useless effort. Your heart aches watching him struggle with so much weight on his shoulders. No matter how strong Arthur might be, he's just a man struggling to carry his own burdens, let alone everyone else's. Ever since settling down here, Dutch has placed so much responsibility on him that you've wanted to scold the man for even mentioning Arthur's name in passing. He's worked himself thin and thread-bare, barely having any time for himself outside of the time he spends on the road traveling from place to place at Dutch's convenience.

Empathy for the man that you've fallen in love with so long ago breaks your heart, aching in desperation to relieve some of his pain. Instead of walking away, keeping to yourself, and silently shouldering any of the blame for setting him off, you choose to stay the night. Despite knowing full well that the girls will have their gossip circulating by morning, Arthur's needs are far more important than any snickering comment or playful jest that'll inevitably come your way.

You scoot back where you were and lean toward him with less apprehension than what your words had suggested. Resting your delicate palm between the broad expanse of his shoulders, you feel him tense at the soft slip of your tender touch over his shirt. The tips of your fingers glide over his shoulder and silently take purchase on the taut muscle there. With a gentle, yet firm pull, you coax Arthur back toward you.

"C'mere. Lean back 'n talk to me..." Your dulcet tone pierces through his irritation, encouraging him to rest in your awaiting arms.

Arthur slowly reclines back, allowing himself to unwind in your embrace as his much larger body sits snugly against your plump bosom. Relaxing doesn't come easy for him. Hell, you'd be surprised if it had, given the high tensions between him and Micah these days or the tiresome back and forth between the two rival families in Rhodes. He has every right to be terse and tensed up like a snake ready to strike, but you aim to comfort him even if that means you risk getting bit. Silence hangs in the air between you, aside from the gentle breaths and the occasional strained grunt catching in the back of his throat while he struggles to get comfortable against you, due to the remaining stress insisting on clinging to his tired body. Your loving hands splay out over the firm expanse of his chest, feeling the steady and reassuring thrum of his heartbeat beneath your palms as you try your best to soothe your brooding lover. It's as if your mere presence cracks away at the anger lingering in the stiff tendons and taut plains of muscle along his torso until he relents and finally lets go. His body relaxes back into you as if he were sinking into the plush, luxurious drapery and bedding found in the finest hotels of Saint Denis; much like the bedding of the room he'd paid for the very same night he had whisked you away to bed you properly for your very first time.

He's silent for a long while, almost reluctant to burden you with his troubles. So, you take it up on yourself to start the conversation by spilling what had happened to you earlier in the day, thinking it might earn a laugh or two, "Well, I'm sure my day weren't as rough as your'n," you hum. "But I did fall off the dock, landing my hind-end right in that water."

The image would usually cause a humorous snort to escape him, but the irritation still bristling at his nerves prevents him from reacting with anything else other than a huff of annoyance, "I told ya to watch your footin' out there. Ain't no use to nobody if you get yourself drowned."

Fortunately, as he chides you his words begin to lack much of the anger from moments ago. But you sigh softly anyways, relenting to his incessant need to protect you from life's dangers, despite being able to handle your own, "I know, I know..."

With a few buttons of that old blue work shirt popped open by your deft fingers, the smallest opening there is just big enough to slip your hand inside and rest it up on the soft but wiry hairs at the very center of his chest. "You shoulda seen me, though," you murmur as you lean down toward his ear, lowering your tone as you press your cheek to the side of his head. "Was drenched head to toe, clothes clingin' to me like feathers on a wet chicken."

He sulks, trying to stay mad at anything and everything he can to give into the bristling anger at the back of his mind, but he can't. No, not when he can clearly envision you all soaked and surprised from falling into that cold lake. A faint smile curls up the corners of his lips and then, just as he almost chuckles, he clears his throat, holding his laugh back. However, you catch on far too quickly for him to play it off so easily.

You gasp softly in mock surprise as if offended by the idea of him laughing at you, "Arthur Morgan. Are you laughin' at me?"

That's when his temperament breaks, giving way to the huff of laughter rumbling through his chest. "I ain't laughin' atchu, per say..." he counters. "Just maybe at the thought of what ya mighta looked like comin' up outta that water: madder 'n hell, hair clingin' to your head," and as if to illustrate his point, Arthur reaches his hand backward and turns his head to try and catch a glimpse of you in the thick shadows, barely making your face distinguishable to his eyes, as he brushes his fingertips over the bits of hair clinging to your forehead from the muggy heat.

Though you narrow your eyes in mock annoyance, you lean into his calloused fingertips, accepting the gentleness of his touch while a giggle of your own creeps up into your throat, "Oh? Is 'at so? Maybe next time I find you out on that dock, I'll think 'bout pushin' ya in 'n lettin' you see how it feels."

He huffs out a skeptical breath and raises an eyebrow at the very thought of you even trying something like that with him. It'd be a futile effort and one that you truly wouldn't consider without the clear consequence of him pulling you right down with him.

And just as soon as the laughter came, it was gone again, replaced instead with a comfortable silence that settles between you two once more, giving him some space to think about what's happened to himself today. Long before the days of your arrival, Arthur would keep to himself and dwell on the ever-present burdens troubling his mind, brooding for hours. But with you, he feels a safety that men like him are rarely afforded.

"Well, if ya think fallin' in Flat Iron's bad..." he continues, "Try goin' halfway 'cross the state lookin' for a man that don't exist. Then when ya find someplace to get a drink, ya end up catchin' a few stray hits from some drunken bastard."

A soft gasp enters your lungs at the revelation. Another fight? You lean over his shoulder, reaching to take his scarred chin into your hand. It's hard to see through the inky-black darkness of the night, but even in the haziness, your eyes can make out the bruising along his jaw, the harsh scrapes of knuckles cutting over his cheek, and the jagged cut on his upper lip. It isn't a rare sight to have him come back battered and bruised by some job from time to time, but that still doesn't quell the uneasiness in your heart at him going through such pain and aggravation.

Your eyebrows furrow in sympathy for your rugged cowboy, eyes softening to match as you breathe out, "Oh, Arthur."

He's quick to dismiss your concern with a soft sigh, pulling away from you to lean forward and distract himself from your sympathetic gaze, "Ah, don'tchu go 'n worry yourself over me none, Darlin'."

Being fussed over or thought of so tenderly still isn't something he's used to; he's shown you that time and time again. But it never deters you from trying to make things better, to make things easier on him however you can. Whatever turmoil Arthur's got rolling about in his mind is far from the usual and it takes patience to understand; a patience that he finds only you can give.

You reach your hand out toward him. The delicate ends of your fingertips reach up to brush over the nape of his sun-kissed neck, grazing over the ends of his slightly overgrown hair, silently making a note to yourself that you'll trim it for him tomorrow. His body shuffles slightly backward, leaning in to accept your touch while he slips off his suspenders: pulling them down his shoulders heavy with burden, before taking his time to unbutton that tattered old work shirt you're so used to seeing around his muscular frame.

"'Sides..." he starts. "I did have some good that came from today."

"What's 'at?" you hum softly with a lilt of dryness. "Hittin' that feller back?"

He can't help the chuckle rising in his throat at the dry sarcasm touching your words. Arthur shakes his head softly, "Nah, Darlin', " the last word strains from his lips as he rises to his feet with a groan, leaving the safe comfort of your touch as he stands to undo his pants.

He glances over his shoulder, peering down at you through the darkness with a smirk curling up at the right corner of his mouth. Watching as your sweet eyes follow his every movement, Arthur turns to face you, allowing you to gaze at him as he slowly pushes the brass button through the eyelet at the top of his riding pants. The fabric opens effortlessly, revealing the red cloth of his union suit underneath. The sight of him before you, suspenders hanging loosely on either side of his long legs and his pants aching to be peeled from his strong form has your lips parted in awe at the man standing mere inches away from you.

He continues from just seconds before, "Seein' you laid out on my bed, purdy as a dream."

After stepping out of his pants now crumpled around his ankles, Arthur lowers one knee upon the cot nearest your thighs. He leans over you, using his thick fingers to tilt your chin upward, meeting his crystalline eyes. "Was one helluva sight I could get used to seein'."

The low timbre of his voice sends a shockwave of desire straight through your heart and into the aching pit of your stomach. Your lips draw up into a shy smile, and a faint dusting of pink envelops your cheeks just like the moment you'd first professed your feelings for him under that canopy of trees he led you through so blindly. Although it hasn't been long since that fateful night, the closeness of your relationship has escalated so quickly that your head and heart dizzy at the mere mention of his name.

Arthur's calloused thumb brushes over the supple swell of your bottom lip, enticing you to part them just for him. You comply, of course, unable to resist how a ghost of his touch makes you so pliant beneath him. And when he leans down to meet your lips with his own, your heart swells with tender affection. Those warm, slightly chapped, but pleasantly plush lips are heady as they connect with a passion that stokes the burning coals of desire in the very base of your core.

"Been waitin' to use that one for a while, hmm?" You hum contently while blindly guiding your hands toward the flare of muscle encasing his ribs. God, how you could worship this man and never tire of feeling how warm, how strong he is beneath your palms.

"Depends. It workin'?" He murmurs, smirking cockily against your lips.

Your mind begins to spin as the calloused pad of his thumb dips from your chin and swipes over your jawline. His fingers splay out over the side of your neck, fingertips gripping you with tender passion to hold you in place. He could easily break you, bend you with his finger and thumb as if you were nothing more than a twig beneath his rough and weathered hands. Never have you felt so small and fragile, always knowing in your heart that you took up much more room than other women. But, when you're with Arthur, he makes you feel as delicate as the petals on a beautiful flower, something so precious and worth loving; it's so much more than you'd ever experienced in your whole life. He touches you so tenderly as if you were made from nothing more than ash, a veritable pile of matter waiting to slip through his fingers at any moment.

You want to hum your praises to your lover, to let him know exactly how much you've wanted this, how much you've missed him, how well he's kissing you, touching you... But you can't. There are no words. He's stolen them from you, drawing all the air out of your lungs with his lips, leaving you gasping for the air coated in his divine masculine scent: sweet tobacco, wood ash, and mossy earth. He encompasses you, wrapping one arm around your waist as he pulls you close to his body, all the while shuffling himself forward to join you on the small cot. Your back presses against the hard wooden frame of the wagon making up the other half of his tent. He presses against you, holding you close to his strong body as he slides his right hand from your jaw, trailing it down over the soft skin of your neck, and down to your chest, where he heatedly palms your breast hidden just beneath your blouse. To have him touch you like this, like a man frenzied and dying for a taste of intimacy, has your head spinning and your heart on the verge of exploding if it hadn't already; for all you know, you could've died the moment his lips crashed into yours, and all that's left is a heaven you'd only dreamt of.

A low growl of appreciation rumbles through his chest for the plumpness of your body. Most men do not know the fine pleasures that extra curves on a woman can bring. But Arthur sure does. And oh how he worships your full figure, despite your opinions about yourself. His large, calloused palm shifts his attention to your other breast, kneading you tenderly while his lips work from your mouth, and instead, leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses over your jawline and supple neck.

His name is a breathless sigh across your trembling lips as you allow your hands to explore his body in return. Touching over the large expanse of his torso and gliding your fingertips over the worn fabric of his union suit, you desperately search for the button that would bare him wholly to you. In the time it takes you to undo one of his buttons, his skilled fingers undo two of yours. Button after button unthreads upon both of your bodies, though his hands are much quicker at ridding you of your layers, leaving them strewn about on the ground until he's stripped you down and laid you beneath him in nothing more than your chemise and bloomers to conceal your decency. Arthur then crawls over you, his movements deliberate and enticingly slow as he cages you in with his hands pressed into the thin mattress on either side of your head. Shadows danced and shifted restlessly, playing tricks on your perception as you try to focus on what little of Arthur you could see through the haziness, making the absence of light feel alive. To feel him above you like this has your stomach in knots, tightening with a firey passion that's ready to snap at any given moment. Hearts are pounding, thrumming wildly against your ribcages like birds desperate to escape the confines of your chests. You hear it, hear how his breath shutters with each wild thump of his heart, and you feel it in his breath as it puffs over your cheek. He's losing himself to you and you him, slipping so quickly that rational thinking is no longer of use. You need him and he needs you.

The flaps of his union suit hang loosely from his body, allowing your hands to reach in and press flat over his heated skin. He shivers slightly at the contact, his muscles tensing and flexing beneath the tender meeting of your palms placed upon his scarred, goose-pimpled flesh. Your fingertips ghost over a scar on the right side of his ribcage, causing your face to crinkle with sorrow for what hardship your lover, this great outlaw, has had to endure in his lifetime. The damaged tissue is the result of a nasty fight he had as a young man: when someone stabbed him with the broken end of a beer bottle; they had aimed to kill him, but he had survived. The spot still aches with the memory of Hosea digging out the shards of broken glass from the angry, bloodied wound. But somehow, the way your delicate touch brushes over that old scar with such love and care causes the outlaw's skin to tingle, and his cock to ache with the pride of knowing that you love him so.

He takes his time with you here, laid out beneath him like a perfect little thing he's captured and kept safe by hiding you away in the privacy of his tent. After the day he's had, he wants to savor every bit of loveliness he's blessed with in your presence, so he can't rush this with you, not now. Arthur takes his time admiring you, letting his eyes rake over what he's able to see, and feeling what he cannot. Leaning down close enough to your face to capture that seductive glint in your glittering, lust-blown eyes, Arthur searches for any change within them as he maneuvers his right hand away from the mattress to trail along your sensitive flesh. The rough pads of his fingers ghost over your thigh, caressing the plump deposit of flesh along your middle, snaking up over your collarbones, and over your neck in search of your delicate face before sealing your mouth with his own in a kiss so tender you whimper from the initial contact.

Shivers of anticipation roll through him as your body responds to his touch: back arching off the bed, hands pulling on the nape of his neck to hold him down and assure that his lips won't leave yours, and the way your bloomer-clad hips roll upward in search of some much-needed friction. God how he could spend hours with you like this, letting his hands roam over your body to make you shiver and plead for any ounce of affection that he can give you. Your needy state is only exacerbated by the slight tremble in your thighs as he snakes his hands down over the pillowy flesh, seeking out the waistband of your bloomers. Ridding you of the cloth separating your pussy from his line of sight is an easy feat: the clad, slightly damp undergarment peels away from your plump hips with ease at the help of his precision; the Lemoyne heat causes the clothing to stick to your slightly dampened skin, but dammit if the temperature pales in comparison to how heated Arthur makes you feel. He tosses them down onto the ground, and places his hands upon your knees, spreading them apart as he sits above you to admire the feeling of your plump body beneath him.

His hand is unhurried and exacting, gently brushing his calloused knuckles down over your inner thigh, then lightly petting them over your soaked need covered by a soft thatch of hair. He can't see you fully, but that does nothing to stop his mind from envisioning how your cunt glistens with slick, all for him. The moment he presses his fingertips to your seam, parting you with the practiced precision of a lover, he lets a low, ragged breath escape his nose in appreciation for how wet you are. You shiver and instinctively try to close your knees from the pleasant surprise of his touch, and fuck does it feel good to have him brush over your folds like that.

"Always so ready, ain'tchya?" He murmurs, a teasing lilt to his voice as he takes his time in savoring the feeling of your slick upon his fingertips.

Your hips involuntarily twitch, bucking upward into his hand, seeking out his fingertips to make him swirl them over your aching little clit. You want him to touch you right where you need him, feel him right on that little spot upon that nub of nerves that makes your mind swirl and your body careen into a blissful orgasm. But he doesn't give that to you, not yet. He wants to work you over slowly, savoring every little sound he can draw out of those pretty lips. You're far too shy to answer him directly, instead favoring to cover your face with your forearms as he takes pleasure in taunting you like this. But the moment his fingertips threaten to part your folds, you let out a delicate little noise, someplace between a whine and a prayer to let him know that you're in no mood to endure his teasing tonight, "Arthur... Please."

Oh, how he loves to hear the sound of you begging; he's already half-hard at the idea of you wanting his touch, let alone hearing how desperate you are for it. He answers your prayer with a long, smooth stroke of his thumb parting your puffy, wet folds. You keen at how just a simple touch causes your stomach to flutter and your slit to clench around nothing at all. Your thighs, thick with strength, covered by a layer of squishy softness, part for him, relaxing lazily as he guides his thumb over each of your labia.

It was nearly impossible to get you to lay like this for him a few weeks ago; you'd been concerned about the unsightly appearance of your inner thighs: scarred over with dimples and imperfections, as well as the slight discoloration of having them rub together after so many years of being a larger woman. Most women that you've seen naked, don't have the same ailments upon their bodies as you have on yours. Just the other day when bathing with some of the girls in the lake, you'd noticed that even on Karen's body, a woman closer to your size, still didn't have the scars or discoloration across her skin in the same way that you have. And that night that Arthur had you laid out for him for the very first time, he'd noticed that apprehension in you, taking it as having second thoughts. But once you had explained how you felt about your own body, he hadn't even given the idea a single thought; his own body is mauled up, covered in old and ugly scars, and carrying more than three colors from all his time spent out in the sun. So, he couldn't have cared less about some scars, a little extra hair, weight, or even the discoloration over your thighs. What he did care about, however, was making sure that you felt loved in spite of it all. And now, it feels no different. To have you spread your legs for him like this, without a single worry holding you back, is a goddamn treat.

Fuck how good it feels to have the soft press of his thumb tease over your cunt, tracing the delicate path between your weeping entrance, to your swelling bud with a pressure so teasing and light that you squirm to feel more. Your plush lips tuck between your teeth to hold back any sounds that give away what you two are doing in here after dark, but it's useless; the lewd sounds of his thumb circling over your clit echo throughout the tent: a dead giveaway to anyone that dare walk by. Holding your breath like this isn't easy, not when the pounding of your heart echoes in your ears and your chest feels as if it's being seared from the inside out. A ragged gasp finally inhales through your nostrils, desperately trying to fulfill your body's need for air when you can no longer restrain your breaths.

He huffs out a low chuckle in amusement at the state he has you in: clearly desperate and in need to have your clit rubbed just the way you like it.

"Hmm.. Hear that?" He rasps out before going silent, letting you hear the sounds of your own slick being spread over your soaked cunt. He only continues when he finally reaches your clit, circling over the throbbing little nerve-ending to make you sigh out in pleasure for him. "So goddamn wet. All for me."

In a blur of movements, Arthur's chapped lips and teeth skim over your knee, slowly working their way down over your inner thighs. He nips at you, earning a few little squeaks and giggles until he kisses over your plump mound. His thumbs take hold of either side of your cunt, spreading you open to let the night air hit your wet skin. It's pleasant like this, to feel yourself spread out beneath him like a meal ready to be devoured and dammit if he ain't starved for a taste. Being eaten out has quickly become one of your favorite acts of intimacy in recent weeks; his tongue is so skilled at finding spots on you, making you come so deliciously, that most days it's all you've been able to think about. Hell, it's all you're thinking about now as his head sinks down to your core and his hot breath fans out over your aching need. His tongue slips out of that perfect mouth and flattens out over your seam, lapping at you once to earn him that little sigh of pleasure escaping your throat.

Your hands immediately seek out his head, combing through his slightly sweat-dampened hair as he swirls the blunt tip of his tongue over your clit.

"A-Agh, Arthur.. N-Not so fast," you whine out in protest, yet your hips bucking up into his mouth says otherwise. But he relents, nonetheless, giving you a moment of reprieve before he delves back in at the same pace.

He's aiming to make you cum quick and hard: slithering his tongue over your clit with the precision of knowing exactly what side and spot makes you writhe beneath him. Just left and then a little upward beneath that little hood of skin and he has you singing for him. Explicitves roll off your tongue one after another in between sweet little sounds that praise him for what effort he's putting in just for you. To hear you, feel you crumble beneath him like this is better than any robbery or score he gets out on the road. But just before he lets you come, he pulls his head back slightly and puffs cool air over your clit, making you whine.

"Shh.. Shh.. 'M gonna let ya cum, Darlin'. Don'tchu worry 'bout that none. 'M gonna take real good care of ya," he hums lowly as his lips and bristly scruff brush over your quivering inner thighs.

His promise isn't far off from fulfillment, not when he sinks his tongue into your heat and presses his opened mouth over the entirety of your cunt. He sucks hard, feeling your walls constrict around the wriggling muscle of his tongue as he laps inside your spongey center. Your thighs tremble with need as he fucks you with his mouth and slurps up your slick, drinking in as much of you as he can and relishing the tangy sweetness of your delectable taste. You throw your head back against the rolled-up blanket you had been using as a pillow earlier in the night, all while he eats you out like a man who's desperate to consume you.

But the aching throb of his cock, constricted by the thin fabric of his union suit, is far too angry for him to ignore. He's got to have you, now.

As he shuffles back up to his knees, leaving your cunt longing to cum on his tongue, you flutter your eyes open and snap your head up to try and catch a glimpse of what he's doing. Clearly, you ain't pleased with him teasing you like this, but when you feel his fervent movements, you realize that he's trying to work off his union suit. He wastes no time it peeling it away from his torso, but the moment he starts to tug it down his thighs, allowing his weeping cock to spring free, he nearly topples over and just about slams head-first into your body. Thankfully, he catches himself in the knick of time, grunting out a few curses as he grows impatient with his incapability to slide that damn fabric off his legs.

Amid his struggle to bare himself, you can't hide the giggle creeping up your throat as he curses under his breath, frustrated with how the fabric insists on clinging to his muscular legs. You help him slide the old red union suit off his body by digging your heels against the back of his thighs and pushing it down the long length of his legs until it reaches his ankles. The undergarment hangs loosely off his feet, causing him to kick it haphazardly off the side of the bed, letting it fall onto his trunk to skirt down on the grass below.

The instant his turgid length brushes over your inner thigh it twitches with the anticipation of feeling your tight, wet walls clamped around him, milking every drop of spend nestled away in his balls; spend that he so desperately wishes he could drain right inside of you. For now, however, just a single brush of your fingertips against him is enough. He has to hold his breath as he guides your delicate palm over his velvety shaft to stroke the needy ache away; if he isn't careful, he'd cum just like this. He hisses, sucking in a sharp breath through his teeth as your fingers wrap around him and your thumb seeks out the weeping slit of his blunt tip. Arthur is, by no means, a small man: his legs are long, torso strong and wide, feet and hands are like bear paws, and his cock.. God, his cock is big. You could use both of your hands to stroke him and still, there'd be enough room for his tip to be entirely untouched. But you make sure as you stroke him with one hand, you pay extra attention to his tip, smearing his drooling precum over as much of him as you can, even down to the dark and wiry curls along his base and balls.

He's trying so hard to hold himself back, but with each tender pass of your thumb over that sweet spot along the underside of his tip, the last remnants of his patience crack away. You feel him crumbling like this, crumbling into a frenzied mess of low-hummed breaths and grunts through gritted teeth, and you fucking love it. Before you can even think about the desire roaring in the cavernous pit of your stomach, aching to be quelled, he smashes his lips into yours so hard that you're sure one of you is bleeding. The pain of his busted lip splitting back open is an angry reminder of the frustration still lingering at the back of his mind; he's as tensed up, pent-up, as a taut rope ready to snap.

With a quick movement, he swats your hand away, preventing you from jacking him into a fast climax. Then, in one swift motion, he grabs hold of your thighs and forcefully yanks you toward him, making the round swell of your plump ass plant firmly against the hard front of his strong body. Your thighs spread out, squishing over and conforming to the contour of his hips, the intimate contact leaving you both ragged and breathless. Your heart drums a frantic rhythm in your ears, drowning out all other thoughts and sensations that belong to you alone. It's as if your mind has descended into a tangled web of strangled noises and glorious sensations that only Arthur seems able to untangle or soothe. The faint outline of his body nestled between your thighs is a constant reminder that nothing beyond this moment, beyond him hidden away with you inside of this tent, matters.

The hard length of his turgid pride parts your folds, gliding over the slick thatch of curls usually concealing your cunt from his eyes, but with his sight hindered, he can explore every single nook, roll, and crevice without you shying away. His weight bares down on you as he holds your legs into the crook of his arms, nearly bending you in half as he drags his cock over your seam. It feels so good like this, even though you can hardly breathe with the thickness of your thighs pressing against your already plump stomach, but when the tip of his cock knocks into your clit, it makes the strained pain well worth it. The back of your hand flies over your mouth as he continues on like this, pleasuring himself and you with each agonizingly slow thrust. Hearing your ragged, strangled half-breaths, he releases your thighs, leaving them to splay out lazily on either side of his hips as he leans down to steal a tender kiss.

Upon breaking his lips away from yours, the low hum of his voice finds its way through the haziness of your lust-broken mind as he murmurs against the shell of your ear, "Gonna take ya just like this..."

Chapped lips skim over your jawline and trail to your lips, where he gives you another tender kiss filled with gentle affection: polar opposite to the rough sex-driven outlaw you've gotten a taste of tonight, but aligning perfectly with the man you fell in love with all those years ago. Scraped knuckles skim against your slick heat as he slips his hand in between you both and presses flat over the thick, dark curls at the base of his throbbing length. His fingers spread wide over his pubic bone, holding his cock between his middle and ring finger, stiffening himself outward to seek out your clenched entrance. With a slight pullback of his hips, he guides himself to your slit, catching right on the taut muscle before pressing forward and splitting you open.

A soft cry hums in the back of your throat and he shushes you so tenderly, sliding his hands over your knees and down your shins to soothe the ache he knows you're feeling. You're so fucking tight, hardly different from the first night he took you and bedded you properly back at the Saint's Hotel. It nearly shatters him when your walls flutter around him, squeezing and pulling him in inch by inch as if you were carved out just for him to sink into. He stills only for a short moment, letting you feel him nestled up against your cervix before he slides himself out and enters you again with a sharp snap of his hips. Lingering anger and frustration from the shit day he's had still pulsates at the back of his mind, desperate to be released as the tension in his body rises.

The tight walls of your cunt clench onto him for dear life as jolts of pleasure and pain rack through your body.

Behind the shield of your palm, you cry out, "A-Agh, Arthur!"

You're trying your best to be quiet, to still your ragged breaths and hide your whimpers, but he's making it incredibly difficult. Each slow drag of his cock coming out of you with a satisfying pop, only to pierce you with a hard roll of his hips, sends you reeling. You're seeing stars, shaking from the pleasurable burn of the passionate fire he's stirring within you. Strong hands grip your hips, keeping you still as his thrusts guide you into a steady rhythm that makes the old wooden frame creak and groan with every subtle and sharp movement that your bodies make. Being discreet has left his mind entirely, no longer concerned with what sounds are coming out of his tent as he fucks you good and proper. No, he couldn't care less when the sounds of your slick pussy squelches as he presses himself flush against you and groans against the pulse point of your neck.

"Don't want ya hidin' them purdy sounds, Darlin'. Let 'em out for me," he grunts out between slow but hard thrusts.

Usually, intimacy like this is savored in the shaking breaths and whispered little sounds only audible to your ears, but tonight... Tonight Arthur is something else entirely. Primal. A damn, dirty outlaw. You love this new view of him, but you can't allow yourself to let the others hear. What if someone were walking by? Or Hosea or Dutch hear you two going at it? You wouldn't be able to look at them for a week! But he doesn't give you much choice in the matter: snaking his hand down between your bodies, his muscular forearm presses against your plush belly while his thumb immediately finds your clit.

"O-Oh, God," you whine as the pad of his thumb circles over you, followed by his name dripping off your tongue like the sweetest honey. "At's it... Such a good girl takin' me so deep. Mmm.. Gonna cum 'round me ain'tchu? Gonna give me a real good one, baby?"

God damn him if his mouth ain't filthy. The way he croons out those little praises and words of encouragement has your climax building faster than you ever could have anticipated. And the swirling of his thumb? It has you shaking, whining, pleading, practically begging for your release as he talks you through it, "C'mon, Darlin'... I feel ya squeezin' me real tight," he praises, "'At's it. Focus on me."

With one more swipe of his thumb over your sensitive clit and his cock hitting that sweet spot right against your cervix, you're tensing, digging your heels into the thin mattress, and cumming around him so hard that you see white. It takes everything in you not to scream, but the strangled sound coming out of you is loud enough to warrant some head-turning if anyone were awake. The moment your walls flutter and start milking him, he falls forward and drops down onto his elbows to cage you in. His thrusts are relentless as he takes his anger out on you in this way, using every movement of his body to release the bristling anger clutching onto his mind like a damn vice grip. No matter how fervent and frenzied, he's still careful not to hurt you, always thinking about how good he's making you feel while chasing his own release.

Arthur isn't a man of many words, but when you're gripped around him like this, clutching him with your arms, legs, and your fluttering pussy, he is downright mouthy. "Oh, such a good girl for listenin' to me. Shh.. Shh. I gotchu, baby. I gotchu."

His mouth hovers over yours, claiming your lips as he kisses you hard and possessively. Moans spill out of you, traveling through the expanse of his throat until it hums within his chest and he echoes one back. To talk like this with him, in a language only two lovers could understand, is far more intimate and pleasurable than anyone could ever know. Arthur is yours and you are his, no ownership or proprietary claim, but just the pleasant knowledge that both of you choose to love each other is enough.

With a few more rolls of his hips, he's nearing his own orgasm: length twitching and engorging as his balls tighten. In desperation, he quickly climbs off of you and pulls his cock out from your core. His right hand tightens into a fist around himself, and although you can't see it, you hear the lewd, effortless slide of his hand vigorously pumping over his tip like his life depends on cumming for you.

Finally, his orgasm hits him, working its way out of his tightened balls and spurting over your plump mound and belly. If he could see his spend on you like this, it'd be enough to make him cum all over again. But both of you are far too exhausted to even consider that so soon. You're still shaking, panting heavily as he lowers himself down onto you, not caring that his sticky spend is now covering the front of his body as well, as your sweaty bodies come down from such an enormous height.

His touch traces a slow, deliberate path down your leg until his fingertips reach the softness of your hip, where he gives your flesh a gentle but firm grasp. Reveling in the smoothness of your skin and the feel of your curvy form beneath his palm, he lets out a slow exhale through his nose. The heat of his breath spills over your neck and shoulder, doubled by the heavy breaths leaving his lips as he lazily peppers your clammy skin with kisses.

After a long stretch of quiet spent nestled into his hair, breathing in the comforting remnants of campfire intermingled with his musky scent, your breathing finally begins to steady. Slowly, your senses return to you one by one, like pieces of a puzzle falling back into place. Shock and disbelief jolt through your entire being as it finally hits you how easily he manipulated your body with his own strength and skill as a lover. You'd heard of men being rough with women, but never did you think it could be this pleasurable.

Your voice finally cuts through the relative silence, carrying a deep sense of satisfaction and astonishment with it, "Wh-here in the hell did that come from?"

An amused chuckle rumbles inside his chest, slightly huffing out of his nose as he slightly pushes himself off of you to gauge your reaction, "Reckon I were a little pent up. Why? You like it?"

To say you liked it was an understatement, but you'd like anything as long as Arthur were right there with you to experience it just the same. While his right hand slides up over the plump contours of your body, appreciatively grabbing at the plushness of your stomach and breasts, he lovingly brushes a few stray strands of hair off your forehead stuck there by the sweat covering your body. You hum softly in agreement to his question, deciding that you did enjoy this different side of him you hadn't expected, despite his rough exterior.

"Mhmm.. 'S always good with you," the loving words you murmur cling to his heart and earn you a pleasant kiss that tastes like the remnants of his busted lip.

As his lips trail back down over your jawline, his beard delightfully scratches over your sensitive skin, causing you to hum in appreciation for him loving you like a man who worships the very ground you walk upon. Your own body follows his lead, fingertips glide down the entire length of his back, tracing the contour of muscle that hint at the immense strength lurking beneath. You can't help but marvel at his shape, this man you love so dearly, and how his body was molded for love and carved from such a hard life. While your fingertips glide across his muscled frame, you can feel the subtle shift of his body as he adjusts himself on top of you, notricebly more relaxed than before: a clear testamanet to the calming eddect your touch has on him.

Curiosity peaked, you murmur, "You relaxed now?" as your fingertips idly trace the two little dimples that grace the base of his spine, just above the firm and muscular curve of his ass.

An amused smirk tugs at the corner of his lips, obviously enjoying the path your fingertips are carving out over his back. He'd never admit it, but he loves it when you grab him unabashedly, palming his ass like he so often does to you. The warmth of his cock brushing over your leg, hardening much faster than he expected for a man his age, tells you all you need to know.

He agrees with you, humming softly against your chest as he inches himself down to where his mouth hovers over the plump swell of your breasts, "Thinkin' that we just might need a little more time for relaxin', don'tchu?"

A/N: Big thanks for the divider from @saradika-graphics and the beautiful gif from @sunwingsunset, please go send them some love for their work! <3

Other creators that expressed interest and drew inspiration from: @subpopizzy , @cassietrn , @coltermorning , @redwritr, @zae-heeyyy, @twola , @amorgansgal

Please do go check all the blogs I tagged! You surely won't be disappointed!

As always, sending my love - M. <3

[iholdwhatican]

tension

part two to reunions - must read part 1 first!

pairing: art donaldson x reader x patrick zweig

length: 3.2k

author's note: this took wayyyy too long for me to do yall, i'm so sorry. these two have a tight hold on me and i'm in the trenches. i've got some good stuff lined up tho, and i'm super excited to write it heeheehee :) also smut in the future will be much longer and much more detailed, just fyi

tags: y/n is art donaldson's wife ; birthday party ; art is down bad ; patrick wants y/n ; possessive!art ; the boys are fighting ; no use of y/n ; pining ; sexual tension ; sugar mommy y/n? ; unapologetic flirting with your bff's wife at his birthday party

warnings: sexual content, p in v, not super detailed but still there!

summary: the stressful night of the birthday party continues, and you find yourself pinging between art and patrick like a tennis ball. how the hell did you get yourself into this?

originally posted by iholdwhatican

It took four minutes and 36 seconds of Art and Patrick being alone outside before the anxiety became too much. Your dress was too tight against your skin and the chatter of the guests rattled in your skull. Your mind replayed the anger on Art’s face over and over, convinced that he’d direct it at you the moment he came back in. And if you were being honest, you couldn’t stop thinking about that kiss. 

Your blood boiled with the ferocity of it, and an ache in your core begged for another taste. 

Another three minutes and 18 seconds passed while you downed half of your second glass of wine. You made conversation with a few people who caught your eye, making sure all the food and drink were up to par. Not that you really could care about that right now. Your mind was a jumble of thoughts about the two men on the balcony. 

Art, Patrick, Art, Patrick, Art, Patrick, Art, Patrick

“You look like you’re gonna puke.” 

For the second time that night, Patrick Zweig’s voice made you jump. 

You looked at him, catching sight of that damned smirk that made your stomach flip, and furrowed your brows. One quick scan of the room came up empty for your husband, forcing the anxiety in your chest to worsen. 

“Where’s Art?” You asked, not missing the way your voice wobbled slightly. 

“Relax.” Patrick responded, resting a hand on your shoulder, “He went to the kitchen, I think. I didn’t kill him. And he didn’t run for the hills either.” 

You decided not to comment on how easily he’d read your worries without you saying anything. For some reason, you were an open book to him. 

A deep sigh left you. You licked your lips anxiously- which immediately caused Patrick’s eyes to fall on your mouth. 

“What happened out there?” 

The man gave you a shrug, letting his hand fall back to his side, “Nothing, really. We just talked for a bit. He told me I could stay, as long as I stopped flirting with you.” 

“So does that mean you’re going to stop?” The idea made you slightly unhappy, which in turn filled you with guilt. Why were you so excited by his flirtations when you had a wonderful, loving husband who treated you like a queen? 

But then Patrick grinned, and you knew the answer before he said it, “Well, I’ve never been one to do what I’m told.” 

A smile grew over your lips, and you tried to hide it with an eye roll, “Why don’t you mingle? Try some food. I’m going to find my husband.” 

He didn’t miss the enunciation you put on ‘my husband’, and you didn’t miss the way his eyes darkened as you said it. You didn’t give it time to linger, instead turning away and moving towards the kitchen. 

You knew the look Patrick had in his eyes. You’d seen it a dozen times in Art’s. On the court, over a board game, in all sorts of scenarios. And every time, even now, the look sent a chill down your spine. 

That expression was clear, resolute competition. 

Just as Patrick had said, you found Art in the kitchen. With his back to you, you had a perfect view of his tense shoulders and hanging head as he poured himself a glass of water. He was all wound up, and you knew it was your fault. Now it was your responsibility to fix it. 

You stepped up behind him, sliding a hand between his shoulder blades. He didn’t hesitate to lean into the touch, a subconscious reaction. He knew it was you just by the feel of your hand on him. And, even if he might be furious, he still found comfort in it. 

“Hey…” You breathed, leaning to the side to meet his gaze. Art looked at you over his shoulder, a half-smile quirking his lips up, “How are you doing?” 

“Hey.” He responded, turning and sliding his hands over your hips. Your chest pressed against his as he leaned down and placed a kiss on your hairline. Then he just lingered there, breathing in your smell, “I honestly don’t know. I just- it was so weird to see him.” 

“Yeah, of course it was.” Your words reached him in a soft, comforting tone. The guilt of putting your perfect, doting husband in this situation was enough to make you feel like you had barbed wire around your neck. You had to pay penance- somehow. You rubbed your hand in circles over his back, “I’m sorry, sundrop. I don’t know what I was thinking when I invited him.” 

Sundrop. A nickname that went way back to the early days of your relationship. Art was an energetic puppy dog with a halo of golden curls and a smile that made your insides feel hot. He was what you pictured a personification of the sun to be, hence the pet name. He pretended not to like it, but his eyes always sparkled a certain way when you said it. 

Art pulled his head away to peer down into your eyes, his own pensive and confused, “No, baby, don’t be sorry. It was a great fucking surprise. Just… a surprise.” 

You shook your head. He was so fucking good to you, “You’re allowed to be mad at me.” 

“Mad? At you?” In one quick motion, he picked you up and set you on the counter. Your legs opened for him without hesitation, allowing him to slot right in between them, “I don’t think that’s possible.”

You fought the blush rising in your cheeks and rolled your eyes, “You think too highly of me.” 

“No. Never.” He replied instantly. He kissed your chin. Then your jaw. Then your neck. Then down your throat, “As far as I’m concerned, you’re God.” 

“Art-” You argued, though you weren’t sure what for. You tilted your neck back and offered yourself up to him. 

“I could spend my life on my knees for you and be happy.” His words were muffled as he mouthed at your neck, sending shivers down your spine. This, combined with the kiss from earlier, was making you ache with need. You were half-tempted to end the party early and take your pretty husband to bed. 

You bit your lip when he ran his tongue over a sensitive spot above your collarbone. If he wasn’t in between them, you’d be squeezing your thighs together. 

When Art pulled away, his eyes had darkened. Dilated pupils and heavy breaths told you all you needed to know. He was just as fucking horny as you were right now. His hands held your hips tighter. 

“Do you think we’d be left alone long enough for me to show you how much I mean it?” He asked. It was almost as if he were begging. As if he couldn’t bear the idea of doing anything other than dropping to his knees and devouring you. 

And God, when he looked at you like that, you had no choice but to say yes. 

Unfortunately, fate intervened, and you were kept from making a scene at your husband’s birthday party. 

“Hey, you two, quit snogging and come entertain us!” One of Art’s tennis friends called, sticking their head into the kitchen. The big grin on their face told you it was just teasing, but you still felt your face burning with embarrassment. 

“It’s my birthday, let me do what I want.” Art jeered right back, lifting you off the counter and back onto your own two feet. You laughed airily at the comment, feeling more light-headed than anything. 

Before following his friend back into the action, he whispered a quick, “Later, okay?” to you. And then he left you standing in the kitchen- touch-starved, foggy-headed, and excruciatingly aroused. 

It was then that you realized you didn’t even get to ask him what happened with Patrick.

Upon re-entering the party, you found yourself taking note of two things- or rather, two people. One, Art- conversing with some friends from the foundation with a big grin on his face. Two, Patrick- having his fill of finger foods from the refreshment table. He was alone. And though you tried to fight it, you found yourself gravitating towards him. 

“Do they not have food where you’re from?” You teased, falling into place at his side. Your gaze slid over the spread before flicking up to his face. 

You’d caught him mid-bite, and he attempted to swallow quickly and regain his composure. Something warmed slightly in your chest. Endearing. 

“Well, I’m kinda… in between places right now.” He explained, tongue stuck in his cheek to clear out residual bits of food, “And there’s never stuff as good as this.” 

You let the compliment slide away, instead focusing on his more troubling response, “Are you homeless?” 

“What? No.” He chuckled, as if the question were preposterous, “I go all over for tennis. It’s just easier to stay on the move.” 

You raised an eyebrow, “And on off-season?” 

Something in his expression darkened, only for a moment, and then he was back to cocky smiles and overwhelming confidence, “I’m too busy to care about that. And what’s it matter to you, anyway?” 

“I’d like to think I’m a good person.” You said, plucking a snack off the table and popping it into your mouth. You chewed it halfway before continuing, “And a good person worries if they think someone they care about isn’t doing well.” 

Patrick grinned at you for five long seconds. And it took him actually saying the words to realize where you’d slipped up. 

“You care about me?” 

Shit. You had not meant to say that. Why was this man so damn good at getting every little thought in your head to spill out of your mouth? 

“If caring about you means I don’t want you sleeping under a bridge somewhere, then sure.” 

“Okay, I would never let it get that far-” 

“I wanna help.” 

He blinked, “Help how?” Briefly, very briefly, you thought of your bed. Your comfortable, spacious bed, perfect for three individuals. You could picture it- you, safe and sound and nestled between the two men. Art, your lovely, obedient husband on one side, letting himself love and be loved. And Patrick on the other side, nice and cozy with a roof over his head and a full belly. 

The image flashed in an instant, and you were left with hollow, heavy guilt. You swallowed. 

“How much do you need?” 

“Huh?” You rolled your eyes at him, “How much money do you need? To keep you afloat for the next little while. And I’ll send you home tonight with leftovers.” 

Patrick let the words wash over him, slowly smiling as they did. He took a step towards you, close enough that one tiny shove would have your bodies pressed together. You could smell him, all sweat and cigarettes and woodsy cologne that made your head spin. You’d been wound up all night, and this was absolutely not helping. 

“You gonna write me a check? Use your hard-earned money to get a practical stranger a hotel for a couple nights?” He murmured, heavy on the charm, “What would your husband think?” 

He knew he’d gotten under your skin. He knew what he was doing. He was fucking enjoying this. 

You tried to hold your ground, looking up at him through your lashes, “It’s his money, actually. He makes sure I never have to work unless I want to.” 

“Guess he treats you pretty well. And look how you’re taking advantage of it.” His hand lay on the table next to yours, his fingertips nearly brushing the skin of your wrist. How bad would it be if you closed the gap? 

You bit your lip, “You’re allowed to turn me down.” 

“I don’t think I’d ever turn you down, Mrs. Donaldson.” 

Something about that title, something about the way he said it, made your blood run hot and cold at the same time. It reminded you of the myths of sirens. Beautiful monsters of the sea that used their voices to bring others to their demise. Talking to Patrick had that same type of allure, and the sense of danger. 

“Then tell me what you need.” 

“What do you think I need?” 

Oh, you could think of a few things. But you could also feel a pair of eyes on you, and you knew exactly who they belonged to. Part of you wanted to tempt him, see if you could get another reaction like out on the balcony. However, you quickly shot the idea down. Not right now, not in the middle of a crowded party.

Lips curving into an innocent smile, you pushed yourself a step back from him, “I think you need a nice place to sleep. And a few good meals. And maybe a hug.” 

The sudden switch-up took Patrick by surprise, but he handled it smoothly and responded only a beat later, “You’re offering?” 

“At least for the first two.” You didn’t know what you’d do if you were in his arms. With the way you were feeling now, with two glasses of wine in your system, your boundaries were getting blurrier and blurrier. How humiliating. 

His bottom lip jutted out into a pout. Which unfortunately dragged your gaze right down to his mouth. It took you a moment too long to meet his eyes again. 

“What, we can’t hug? Don’t you consider me a friend?” 

“I do.” You shrugged, tucking loose hair behind your ear, “Maybe I’m just not a touchy person.” 

A lie. You knew it, and you could tell by the look on his face that he knew it too.

“Yeah.” He smirked, sounding the opposite of sincere, “Art’s wife isn’t a touchy person. Sure.” 

You needed a cold shower. Or to go have some one-on-one time with your vibrator. Or maybe move to the seaside and spend your days going mad in a lighthouse. You weren’t sure. All you knew was how increasingly hot you were feeling. 

“Speaking of Art, go talk to him. Try to make amends. Meet some of his friends.” You suggested, glancing over at your husband. He wasn’t watching you anymore, at least not straight on. But he had a radar when it came to you, and he was very diligent in keeping tabs. No matter what.

“You trying to get rid of me?” Patrick asked lightly. No heat behind the words. 

“Oh, yes.” You admitted, placing your hands on his shoulders and pointing him towards Art, “Find me again before you leave and I’ll have your check.” 

“Yes, ma’am.” He grinned at you over his shoulder, sending a wink before sauntering off. 

Finally, you felt like you could actually get a breath in your lungs. 

The party had ended. Guests went home, Patrick got his check and headed to a hotel you recommended, and you and your partner left all the cleanup for the morning. You barely gave it a second glance as you went up to bed with him, your hand held tightly in his. 

Art fucked you like a starving man that night. You barely got into the room before his lips were plastered on your skin, his hands unzipping your dress with quick precision. He was usually much more reserved, but something about tonight had made him ravenous. And he wasn’t the only one.

You ended up on his lap; bare chests pressed together, skin sweaty and breaths heavy as you rolled your hips into him. His hands clutched your thighs, keeping you close, fingers pressing into the flesh. You pulled on his hair and his head immediately fell back. As if he were a puppet for you to position and use however you wanted. His eyes looked up at you with a fire in them you’d never seen before, but the adoration, the reverence, was all too familiar. 

Your name fell from his lips over and over again like a prayer. The single word weaved with threads of devotion, possessiveness, desire. A song joined in chorus by whatever nonsensical phrase entered his head. I love you, so perfect, all mine, please, please, please. 

He was claiming you. Marking his territory in his own special way. It didn’t matter that Patrick wasn’t here to see it, or that he probably would never even know. As long as Art could tell himself that you were his, he’d be okay. Jealousy was a good look on him. 

You could feel your core tighten with each and every movement of his hips against you. You weren’t going to last much longer. But by the look in your husband’s eyes, neither was he. 

Parted lips claimed yours in a messy kiss, tongue sliding into your mouth and exploring every open space. Then you were being flipped over; back pressed into the mattress as Art rocked into you with reckless abandon. He intertwined his fingers with yours and pinned your hands above your head without ever breaking the kiss. 

You lasted about thirty seconds. Finally, the tension in you snapped and your orgasm washed over you in waves, leaving you limp and trembling. Art finished only a moment later. You could feel him pulsing inside of you as the aftershocks slowly faded away. The room reeked of sweat and sex and your head was spinning. 

Art, your precious, dutiful man, rested his head on your chest as he attempted to catch his breath. You could feel the tickle of his lips kissing your skin, the soft squeeze of his hands on your hips. You ran a hand through his damp hair, fingers massaging his scalp. 

“I love you.” He murmured against your ribs, right over your thundering heart. He said it like he couldn’t quite believe he was allowed, like he didn’t believe you were here, that you were his. 

Dark hair and cigarette smoke flashed through your mind. Almost-touching hands and paper checks. 

“I love you.” You responded, kissing his hairline, “Happy Birthday, baby.” 

The only response you got was a tired, happy sound and another kiss to your collarbone. A quick adjustment later and the two of you were tucked under the blankets, your head on Art’s chest and his arm around you. Neither of you cared enough to clean yourselves up or to put pajamas on. Art was already softly snoring next to you, and you could feel your eyelids getting heavy.

As you listened to the baddump of his heart, a strange thought flitted through your mind. You’d just had the best sex of your life, and it was because of Patrick. You weren’t the only one who’d been thinking of him while in the throes of passion. The notion made something strange twinge in your gut. 

And then, like he’d somehow read your mind, your phone lit up with a text. 

Patrick Zweig: You free for lunch tomorrow?

***

Taglist: 

@jxssimae

@jackierose902109

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@yesimwriting

@1989tvcore 

@kookie29 

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@nsyncvinyl 

@ireallydontcareanymorebrooo

@brunettegirl

[ohcorny]

so! it's been a year since i put never satisfied on hiatus, and 9 years since i started posting it, and rather than make you read everything if all you want to know is "when's it coming back?" the answer is still: don't know! but the answer has also shifted closer to "it isn't" the longer i've spent on break, and i think it's worth being up front about that.

i talked about it a little here a few weeks ago, but the long and short of it is that between taking on better paying work, writing better stories, and looking back at what i'd already done for never satisfied... i just don't think i want to continue it? the year off has been incredibly good for my mental health, and i can't see myself wanting to go back after the two-three years still ahead of me on my current project. that's not to say i never want to return to the characters or the concept, but if i did, i imagine it would be with something completely new, in a different form. after all, i started this comic when i was 21 years old, a lesbian, and a sophomore in college. i am now just shy of 30, a bi man, and overall a completely different person than i was, back when i was writing without a plan and putting all of my insecurities into the comic--insecurities i don't identify with anymore. lord i'm closer to rothart's age than i am to lucy's. hate that

anyway. you have all been extraordinarily kind for following never satisfied for as long as you have, for supporting it as much as you have, and being as patient as you have. whatever form never satisfied takes in the future (god willing, with a more cohesive story structure and A PLAN FOR THE ENDING, WHICH BY THE WAY I NEVER, EVER HAD) i hope to see you there!

in the meantime, as an update on where i'm at with the thing that made me stop working on NS: i finished it! all the pages for Hunger's Bite (if you remember it with a different title: no you don't) have been turned in and now it's just revisions and covers and then........ waiting a year until it can come out. because that's how it is in traditionally published graphic novels! nothing releases for a full year after you finished it! and you're even getting it earlier than was originally planned, because i'm a creature and finished it like three months ahead of schedule. i've also already started thumbnailing the sequel book which i can't talk about whatsoever and will now be working on that for the next two years and then HOPEFULLY the first book will have done well enough that i can sell a third! so you better buy it when it comes out next february!!!!!!

to ease you all into it, i wanted to do a little crossover to introduce the main characters. we have emery, whose design is fully and unintentionally just Seiji Again down to his color palette (but seiji would bully him if they met. like so hard. he's a wimp). then we have neeta, a girl who dreams of travel and cares deeply about worker's rights, and wick, a vampire agent investigating the mysterious and sinister new owner of the 1910s ocean liner emery and neeta call home. he's also gay. but sorry lucy, you aren't his type. you're not mean enough.

the best place to keep up with me these days is probably here, as this first book gets closer to release, i will probably be posting about it a lot. and i will certainly post about it here when there's an official release date and cover reveal! i hope you'll go read it. i really think if you liked never satisfied and its themes, you'll like hunger's bite!

thank you again for reading!!

[wholoveseggs]

Rules {Part Four}

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

Part Four

Tonight is the night of the dinner party and tensions are running high. Caught between the love for your family and your own desires, things take a dramatic turn when you make a choice you can't take back.

♡♡ I finally get to write about my #1 favorite TVD moment! The Dinner Partyyy! {the campyiness, the tension, the dramaaaa... Its peak TVD} Hope you enjoy! PS: there will be a part five ♡♡

6.4k words - Warnings: salvatore!sibling reader, no smut, lots and lots of drama, so much angst, Elijah being the sexiest middle-part menace he can be, secret affair, forbidden romance, Damon being over-protective, finally adding some proper Stefan moments to the plot, Elena being Elena, my sweet angel ♡ ANDIE STARRR ♡ , vervain, tension, violence, john gilbert & chocolate mousse...

{Part One} {Part Two}{Part Three}{Part Five}

♡♡ Tag-List ♡♡

Trying to fix my tags! I re-added all of you, and now you will be posted at the top!

If you no longer wished to be tagged just shoot me a DM {I won't be offended} xoxo~

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You sat in front of your vanity, outlining your lips with a deep shade of red, finishing off the look with a dab of gloss.

Damon didn't tell you any details of what he was planning, beyond having a weapon that could kill an Original, which would have seemed absurd if it wasn't your brother. You knew what he was capable of. 

Damon had left not too long ago, telling you he was going to lunch with his girlfriend Andie, and would be back later.

All you knew was that there would be a dinner party tonight and if Elijah showed up, Damon was going to kill him. 

Your phone rang and you glanced over to see Stefan's name on the screen, your pressed speaker, and went back to applying your lipstick.

"Hey," You said, pressing your lips together and checking the color.

"Hello," Stefan replied, sounding a bit tense.

"How's your trip with Elena going?" You asked, grabbing a tube of mascara.

"Well as it can be," he said vaguely.

"I guess you know about the deal then? Elena is willing to die for you, that's very sweet," you said casually, applying the mascara to your eyelashes.

"When did you get so callous? She isn't a martyr, she's just naive," he sighed.

You felt a pang of guilt for teasing him. He was right, Elena was kind and gentle, and both of your brothers loved her.

"Look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that. I know how you feel about her," You said, trying to sound comforting. "It's just that she possesses an unfortunate face,"

Stefan let out a humorless chuckle, and sighed. "Katherine's face,"

"Yeahhhh," you laughed.

"Funny you should mention her, Elena has been reading some old journals written by Johnathan Gilbert," Stefan explained. "It's brought up a lot of memories,"

"Didn't you eat him?" You asked, screwing the cap onto the mascara.

His silence was an answer in and of itself.

"Are you afraid that if Elena learns about your lovely alter-ego she won't love you anymore?" You teased.

"This is serious," he sighed.

"Ok, ok, sorry," You said, standing up and smoothing out your dress. "Always so uptight,"

"Not everyone has it so easy, sister," he grumbled.

"What does that mean?" You asked, your tone slightly offended.

"It's nothing," he sighed.

"No, no. Please, speak your mind," You said, rolling your eyes.

"You've always just been good at it," He began, you could hear the annoyance in his voice.

"At what?" You snapped, pacing around your room.

"Being a vampire," He said bluntly. "You claim to loathe Katherine, yet you aren't that different,"

You didn't know what to say, his words cut you. How dare he compare you to the woman who destroyed your life, turned you and your brothers into monsters. Kept them under her toxic spell while you watched them suffer.

"That's not fair, Stefan," You said softly, feeling hurt and defensive.

"Isn't it?" He asked.

You stayed silent, unsure of what to say, you just stared out the window, the sun shining brightly outside.

"Anyway, I don't have time to debate your morals," Stefan continued. "I'm just calling to tell you to watch out for Damon, killing Elijah won't be easy, he will need your help,"

"And here I thought you didn't trust me," You said, unable to hide the hurt in your voice.

"I trust you more than anyone," he said softly.

You wanted to tell him everything, how guilty and ashamed you felt. You didn't even know why you were feeling these things, Elijah was nothing to you, but you couldn't stop thinking about him, the pain in his eyes, the coldness in his voice, it haunted you.

And now you were going to kill him, Stefan was right... You weren't so different from Katherine.

"Then, trust me when I say, I'll handle it," You said, keeping your tone casual.

"Ok," he said, though his voice sounded hesitant. "Please be careful,"

"I will," you said softly, before ending the call.

You sat down on your bed and pulled on a pair of black velvet pumps. They were tall, and made your legs look amazing. You checked your lipstick and smoothed out your dress, and headed downstairs.

Damon was just arriving home, with Andie in tow. They were carrying bags of groceries, and setting them down in the kitchen.

"Hi, Andie," You smiled.

"Hello darlin," she said, her voice cheery, like always. "Don't tell me that your brother roped you into this mess,"

"Mess?" You asked, raising an eyebrow, giving Damon a questioning look.

"Andie doesn't believe in my abilities to cook," Damon rolled his eyes.

"Damon has a tendency to go overboard with things," she laughed.

Neither of them were actually talking about the cooking. Damon had obviously told her about his plans for the night.

"What are we serving tonight, then?" You asked, giving him a warning look.

"A nice rack of lamb, roasted vegetables, some salad..." Damon trailed off, looking around the kitchen. "Annnd... A dessert that will be sure to knock our guest's socks off,"

You and Andie made eye contact and she smiled, trying not to laugh.

"Sounds lovely, brother," You smiled, reaching out and patting him on the shoulder. "How can I help?"

Damon gave Andie a pointed look and she nodded and left the kitchen, leaving the two of you alone to chat.

"So," he began, as he pulled out a box of matches and lit the burner on the stove. "Change of plans,"

"Change?" You asked, leaning against the counter, crossing your arms.

"I need you to stay upstairs, away from the party," He said, avoiding your eyes.

"What?!" You said, glaring at him. "Why?"

"Because Jenna is coming, and she thinks you are Elena's age... I can't have her asking too many questions," Damon explained.

"That's such bullshit!" You growled, pushing off the counter. "You can't do this on your own,"

"Yes I can," he scoffed.

"So, what? I'm just supposed to stay hidden away in my room, twiddling my thumbs while you try and kill Elijah?" You asked, getting more irritated by the second.

"Yeah, pretty much," He said, his tone casual. "And when it's done you can help me dispose of the body,"

"Are you being fucking serious?" You spat.

"Relax," he chuckled.

"How am I supposed to relax when I know you are going to get yourself killed?!" You asked, throwing your hands in the air.

Damon put down the pan he was holding and turned around, walking over to you and getting in your face, his eyes wild and bright.

"Despite you being a ravenous little killer, you are still my baby sister," he said, his voice soft, but his eyes were still angry. "I was wrong to ask you for help, it's my job to protect you, not put you in harm's way,"

You didn't like this one bit, Damon was stubborn and headstrong, and once his mind was made up, there was no changing it. It infuriated you, the way he saw you as this helpless damsel. Yet, you weren't surprised, he had a tendency to go overboard with things and forget logic. The fact that you were a vampire and could handle yourself was something he often forgot.

You felt humiliated and helpless, and that made you angry, so fucking angry.

"Fuck you," You snapped, turning on your heel, storming out of the kitchen, Damon called after you, but you ignored him, slamming the door to your room shut.

You stood in the middle of the room, feeling a wave of emotion hit you. This wasn't like you, you never let yourself feel like this, so out of control. The last time you felt anything like this was years ago, when you were human.

You hated that feeling, the way your stomach would twist, and your heart would ache. But it wasn't because of Damon... It was because of Elijah.

The sound of the guests arriving floated up to your bedroom. You were sitting on your bed, a glass of wine in hand. You had been drinking all evening, trying to numb the anger, the sadness, and the regret.

The plan was already in motion, there was no stopping it now. Elijah was going to die, and you were told to stay put and let it happen.

You picked up the voices of several familiar people, Alaric, Jenna, Andie, even Elena's estranged father John. All chatting happily, blissfully unaware of your presence upstairs. 

You looked down into your glass, you could see your vague reflection in the dark liquid. You couldn't stand the sight of yourself, the guilt, the shame… it was eating away at you, no longer could you sit there and wallow in it. 

Fuck it, you thought. You finished the glass off with one large gulp and got up, walking over to the full-length mirror.

Your hair was down, the curls flowing down past your breasts, and your makeup was perfect, smoky eyes and deep red lips. All dressed up and nowhere to go, nobody to see.

You headed down the hallway, trying to be as quiet as possible, peeking through the railing on the stairs to see if anyone was there.

Then you heard Elijah's voice, it was hushed and cold, and the words were unintelligible, but it was him, and your heart skipped a beat.

You inched closer, straining your ears, desperate to hear more.

"Can I just say that if you have less than honorable intentions about how this evening is going to proceed, I suggest you reconsider."

His tone was dark and threatening, and you knew Damon would be on the receiving end.

"No, nothing, nothing dishonorable. Just getting to know you," Damon replied, and you could picture his cocky smile.

"Hmm. Well, that's good," Elijah sounded skeptical, and you could hear him walking inside and closing the door.

"Because, you know, although Elena and I have this deal, if you so much as make a move to cross me, I'll kill you and I'll kill everyone in this house. Are we clear?" Elijah's tone was firm and unwavering, and you could sense the tension.

You took a deep breath, steadying your nerves, and walked down the stairs. Your feet a bit wobbly in your heels, the wine was catching up with you.

Everyone was looking at you by the time you got to the bottom, and you were sure your face was flushed, your cheeks pink. But all you could see was Elijah. His dark eyes watching you, and your heart was racing. Surely he wouldn't kill you in front of all these people.

"Well, well, well. Look who decided to join us," Damon chuckled nervously, walking up to you and putting his arm around your shoulder, squeezing you forcefully. "This isn't a party for teenagers, sweet sister,"

The tension was thick, and it was clear that Damon didn't want you there.

"I just wanted to come say hello, I was getting bored upstairs," You said casually, pulling away from him.

"Oh, c'mon Damon, it's alright. She can stay for the food," said Jenna, giving you a warm smile. She was so kind, you didn't want to see her get hurt.

"No, really. She should be going, right sis?" Damon said, glaring at you.

"No, I think I'm gonna stay, I was promised dinner, after all," You replied, meeting his eyes, defiance shining in them.

Elijah cleared his throat, stepping towards you and Damon, his face neutral. "Nice to meet you Miss Salvatore," he took your hand and kissed it, his lips lingering for a moment longer than necessary.

Damon was looking at Elijah like he wanted to rip his throat out, and you had to resist the urge to smirk.

"And you, Mr. Smith," You replied, trying to hide your amusement.

Elijah gave you a knowing look, and a small smile formed on his lips.

"Call me Elijah," He replied, still holding your hand.

"Elijah, then," You nodded, a shiver running down your spine as his thumb traced your wrist.

You had no idea why he was acting so casual, he had to know this was a trap, and he was just standing there, touching you.

"Ok, now that everyone knows each other, let's eat," Andie cut in, leading everyone to the dining room.

Before you could follow, Damon grabbed your arm and pulled you aside, his expression one of pure rage.

"What are you doing?" Damon growled.

"Having dinner," You said, pushing him off and brushing past him, walking into the dining room.

The only empty seat available was next to Elijah, who grew stiff when you approached him.

"Is this ok?" You asked, smiling sweetly.

He nodded, pulling the chair out for you, and pushing it back in once you were seated, always the gentleman.

Everyone was seated, and the dinner party was in full swing. Jenna and Andie asked Elijah all about the local history of Mystic Falls, and he bullshitted his way through, telling them stories of the old families that founded the town, local folklore tales, and other nonsense.

Elijah seemed to relax a bit, although he was purposely avoiding looking or speaking to you, his gaze focused elsewhere. But every once in a while you could feel his hand brush yours under the table, making your skin tingle.

You were drinking wine like it was water, and you could feel the effect it was having on you. The world was fuzzy, and everything was so funny. You would giggle or let out an inappropriate snort whenever Elijah would talk, and your face was flush and hot.

"Not to be a party pooper but aren't you a little young to be drinking?" John Gilbert said, looking at you, his eyes narrowing.

You glared at him, raising an eyebrow, he knew that you were a vampire, four times his age no less. But you weren't about to argue in front of sweet and innocent Jenna, who had no clue about the existence of the monsters she was surrounded by.

"She can have a glass, as her guardian I allow it," Damon said casually, not bothering to look up from his plate.

"Ahh, I see, I suppose the rules are a bit more lax when you have Damon as a parent," John added, his expression bitter and cold.

"I think she's had more than a glass," Andie said softly, her tone was concerned as she looked you over.

You felt Elijah's hand come to rest on your thigh under the table, it made your heart skip a beat and Damon look up from his plate.

"She's fine," Damon said, his tone final.

The other guests exchanged awkward glances, Alaric cleared his throat uncomfortably and Jenna and Andie both had worried expressions on their faces.

Elijah's hand was moving higher up your thigh, and it was making your face flush, and you were starting to get wet.

You had no idea why he was touching you, considering he wanted to kill you. But you supposed there is a fine line between lust and loathing.

As soon as everyone finished their meal, Andie got up and Damon gave her a pointed look, whatever he had planned had just begun.

"The gentlemen should take their drinks in the study," she said, giving everyone a smile, her gaze lingering on Elijah.

"I have to say the food was almost as wonderful as the company," Elijah said, smiling at her, and standing up.

"I like you," Andie said softly, returning his smile.

You watched as the men left, Damon looked back at you before he followed them, giving you a wink, and closing the door.

You were fuming, the wine making you angrier than usual, you went to follow but Andie intercepted you, handing you a pile of plates.

Sighing, you reluctantly carried them to the kitchen and started loading the dishwasher, not wanting to draw too much attention.

"Here, let me help," Jenna smiled, taking the glasses from your hands.

"It's fine," You said, forcing a smile.

"Come, drink some water, your face is flushed," Andie said, handing you a glass.

"No more for you," John added, pouring the leftover wine down the drain.

You scowled at all three of them, lecturing you like you were a child. They had no idea what you were capable of, the things you've done. They wouldn't treat you like this if they did.

You took the water, glaring at them, and chugged it, setting the glass down with a little more force than necessary.

Alaric came rushing into the kitchen with a wild look in his eye. He made eye contact with you, and he was out of breath.

"We forgot dessert!" He said, sounding panicked.

"What?" Andie asked, confused.

"Dessert!" Alaric repeated, his body practically vibrating with fear.

Whatever was going on, it definitely wasn't about dessert.

"I can make a chocolate mousse...?" Jenna began, trailing off, looking at Alaric with confusion.

"Perfect! Let's go tell Damon and Elijah," Alaric said in a rush, motioning to Andie who gave him a questioning look but followed him out.

"What is going on?" Jenna asked, turning to you, her eyes wide.

"No idea," You lied, shrugging, hoping to sound convincing.

As soon as Jenna had her back turned, you slipped out of the kitchen and headed for the dining room.

Everyone had already returned, and the tension was palpable. Alaric looked stressed and Damon was smirking, which was a sure sign of a disaster.

Damon and John were seated on opposite ends of the table, glaring at each other, while Elijah sat in center. Andie and Alaric were behind him, rummaging through her bag for some reason.

"What I'd like to know, Elijah, is how do you intend on killing Klaus?" John said sharply, looking over his wine glass at him.

It seemed that the dinner party discussions had finally turned to the real business at hand, you inched into the room quietly, trying not to draw any attention.

"Gentlemen, there's a few things we should probably get clear right now. I allow you to live solely to keep an eye on Elena. I allow Elena to remain in her house living her life with her friends as she does as a courtesy. If you become a liability, I'll take her away from you and you'll never see her again." Elijah's eyes flickered to you, but only for a second.

Before Damon or John had a chance to respond, Andie returned with her notebook in hand, sitting down across from Elijah, ready to interview him, "Okay. My first question is when you got here to Mystic..."

Suddenly, time seemed to slow down, you watched Alaric approach Elijah from behind, an ornate looking dagger in his hand, ready to stab him in the back.

You moved without thinking, lunging at Alaric, wrapping your hand around his wrist and snapping it with ease, causing the dagger to fall to the floor with a clatter.

Alaric crumbled to the floor in pain, looking up at you in shock.

The room suddenly exploded into action, dark veins spread beneath Elijah's eyes, and he lunged at Damon, knocking him over the table and onto the ground, grabbing him by the neck and lifting him into the air, his eyes ablaze.

John grabbed Andie, pulling her out of the way, while Alaric crawled along the floor, cradling his wrist.

You grabbed Elijah's arm, trying to pry him off of Damon.

"Don't! Let him go!" You shouted, struggling against him, his muscles were tensed, and his grip was tight, he wasn't budging.

Elijah looked over his shoulder at you, his dark eyes cold and angry. You gave him a pleading look, trying to convey how important it was that he listened.

"Please, he's my brother, please don't hurt him," You said, your voice breaking as your tears began to flow.

He dropped Damon, who fell to the floor with a thud, coughing and sputtering.

Elijah looked around the room at all the frightened faces, then to the floor where the dagger was lying and picked it up, examining it.

"Clever boy," Elijah looked at Alaric, shaking his head and tsking. "I haven't seen one of these in quite some time,"

He moved to attack Alaric but you jumped in front of him, shielding him with your body.

"Please don't kill him," You pleaded, putting your hands on his chest, trying to push him back.

He was immovable, but his gaze softened when his eyes met yours and he put the dagger in his jacket pocket. His eyes went back to Damon, who was still on the floor, glaring at him.

"Please, don't hurt anyone," You repeated, your hand moving to his hair, running your fingers through it.

He closed his eyes and leaned into your touch, his shoulders sagging, the tension leaving his body.

"Get away from my sister," Damon snarled, his voice rough from being choked.

Elijah looked at Damon, giving him a wicked smile and wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you close to him, your face pressed against his chest.

"Oh, she doesn't mind," Elijah smirked, looking at Damon with smug satisfaction.

Damon looked from you to Elijah, his expression a mixture of disbelief and pure rage. His brain couldn't quite compute what he was seeing.

"What did I say?" Elijah began, pausing to pretend he was pondering, "Oh yes! If you so much as make a move to cross me, I'll kill you and I'll kill everyone in this house,"

Your hands curled into his shirt, tugging on it, looking at him pleadingly. His dark eyes went to yours, and his gaze softened, he kissed you on the cheek, wiping away a stray tear.

"Fortunately for you, your lovely sister has been most gracious in her hospitality," He said, looking over your head at Damon.

You were visibly shaken up, looking at your brother with tear filled eyes, your hands trembling against Elijah's chest. He lifted your chin, forcing you to look at him instead of your devastated looking brother.

"So much for rule one," he said quietly, kissing the corner of your mouth.

Damon was seething, his fists clenched, and he was practically shaking with anger.

"Now, I hate to cut this evening short, but it seems I've overstayed my welcome," Elijah sighed, pulling away from you, his tone neutral.

"And as for you. Let me be perfectly clear, if you, or anyone else, attempt something like this again, I will kill you. No mercy. Understood?" Elijah asked, looking directly at Damon.

"Yes," Damon said, his voice dripping with venom.

"Wonderful. Now, I think it's time for me to take my leave," Elijah turned and began to walk out, "I'll be in touch," he called over his shoulder.

As soon as Elijah left, all eyes were on you. Damon's angry glare made you squirm, and the disgusted expressions from Andie, Alaric and John made you feel deep shame. You needed to get out of there.

But before you could , Damon grabbed you, the speed blowing your hair back. His hand went to your neck and he threw you against the wall, his fingers crushing your windpipe.

"Are you crazy? You’re fucking Elijah? ELIJAH?" He yelled right in your face, his rage so uncontrolled he lashed out and hit the wall beside your head, causing the plaster to crack and break.

"What the hell were you thinking?" He continued, his eyes wild, spit flying from his mouth.

"Damon," Andie said softly, stepping forward to calm him. John held her back, helping Alaric to his feet and pulling them both out of the room. John knew better than to get between Damon and his wrath.

"How did this happen? How did he get to you?" He shook you harder, causing the plaster dust to rain down. "Did he compel you? I told you to drink vervain every day!"

You kneed him in the stomach, forcing him to drop you, and you gasped for air.

"No! He didn't compel me, he would never," You snapped, rubbing your neck. "I...I care for him,"

Damon stared at you, his breathing ragged, and his expression completely blank. Then he started to laugh, it was devoid of any warmth, it was all bitterness and mockery.

"Care for him? What is he, your boyfriend? Did he ask you to go steady in-between planning Elena's murder?" Damon sneered.

"That's not fair," You said, scowling, folding your arms. 

"So he's the reason you've been so distant? The reason you've been acting so weird? What, he's using you to get to Elena, isn't he?" Damon was pacing back and forth, his hands in his hair.

"No... We never discus-" You tried to explain.

"This is unbelievable," He groaned, cutting you off, and walking over to the liquor cart, pouring himself a drink, then he froze.

"Please tell me you didn't fuck him in this house," he said, his voice dangerously low.

"Not exactly...," You trailed off, averting your gaze, biting your lip.

Damon downed his drink and smashed the glass against the wall, "Fuck, Y/N, do you have any idea what you've done?"

"I had a plan! Everything just spiraled out of control," You said, your voice shaking, feeling overwhelmed and frustrated. "I tried... I tried to steal the moonstone, for you! For us! He caught me and... and I was stupid. I'm sorry.”

"So you thought you could pull a honeypot on an original?" Damon looked completely dumbfounded, and a little impressed. "Are you insane? Or just dumb?"

His words cut you deeply, mostly because they were the same things you had said to yourself, a million times.

"I thought it would work," You shrugged, your arms dropping, you were feeling defeated.

"And I suppose letting him fuck you was an added bonus, huh?" Damon shot back.

"Yes!" You screamed, frustrated, throwing your hands up. "I like him, Damon! He's interesting and attractive and he treats me like an equal!"

Damon snorted, "Because he thinks you're a slut."

That stung, he had never called you that before and tears sprang to your eyes. You glared at him, as they began to spill down your cheeks. You were done arguing with him, and you were done listening to him. He didn't understand, and you had nothing more to say.

Without another word, you pulled the dagger out of your bra, you had managed to remove it from Elijah's pocket without anyone noticing. You threw it at the floor at Damon's feet and stormed off.

Damon looked at the dagger, his brow furrowed, then back up at the spot you had just occupied, a sinking feeling in his stomach. He had made you cry.

You ran to your room and crawled under the covers, letting all your pent up emotions flow out of you, coming out in gasps and hiccups. You had no idea what to do, you didn't want to choose between your family and Elijah. You didn't want to be forced to pick a side. 

You didn't want to have to give up what you felt when you were around him.

You didn't know how.

It had been a few hours since the disastrous dinner party. You were still laying in your bed, staring at the ceiling, replaying the events over and over again in your mind.

You heard Damon leave not long after your argument. You had no idea where he ran off too. Knowing him, he went to find more trouble. Part of you regretted the fight, the other part of you wanted to strangle him.

You were exhausted, physically and emotionally. It was like every single part of your being was weighed down.

Just then you heard a loud commotion downstairs, the voices of your brothers and Elena floated up to you. There was a strange scraping sound, like they were dragging something heavy across the floor.

You quickly got up to investigate, hopping down the stairs, stopping suddenly in front of a very nervous looking Elena.

"What happened?" You asked, trying to look past her to your brothers.

"Damon told me what happened," She said softly, reaching out to touch you. But you spotted a pair of legs being dragged away towards the stairs leading to the basement.

Your eyes went wide as you figured out whose legs they were. Panic swept over you, and you pushed past Elena and rushed to the basement after them.

Stefan and Damon were throwing Elijah's body into the cell, he looked gray and cold, the dagger sticking out of his chest.

"Elijah! No, no, no," You cried, screaming and trying to get past your brothers. But they were too strong for you, holding you back, and quickly closing the gates.

"Let me go!" You punched at Damon's chest, desperate to get inside the cell, tears streaming down your face.

Damon just held you, refusing to release you, your screams filling the small basement.

Stefan locked the door, following you and Damon upstairs. You were kicking and fighting like a crazy woman, begging them to let you see him.

Once you made it upstairs, Stefan grabbed you and held you in his arms, still you fought and cried for him, despite his pleas for you to stop.

"Please calm down," Stefan begged, holding onto you tightly.

"He came to take Elena, we had no choice," Damon said, his voice sounding tired, like this had been an exhausting evening for him.

"He promised me he wouldn't," You said, your voice cracking, your throat raw.

"He lied, Y/N, that's what he does," Damon replied, sounding exasperated.

"Shut up!" You screamed, jerking out of Stefan's arms and rushing at Damon, your fist connecting with the side of his face. "You did this! He wouldn't have done anything if you hadn't provoked him!"

You managed to hit him twice, splitting his lip, before Stefan grabbed you again, pulling you back.

"Knock it off!" Stefan said sharply, giving you a firm shake. You stopped struggling for a moment, panting.

Elena came and stood next to Damon, looking more sad than angry. She wasn't sure what to say, or what to do in this situation.

"I love him Stefan, please," you begged, sniffling. It was the first time you could admit it out loud, to anyone, to yourself and you wished it was Elijah you could have told first. "You have to let me see him, even if he's dead...I just have to see him."

Your words cut through Stefan's heart. Trembling in his arms, he had never seen you so distraught and in pain. He looked over your head at Damon and Elena, silently asking for permission.

"Fine, I'll take you, but only because you'll probably burn the house down if I don't," Damon said, rolling his eyes.

Stefan let you go and you immediately ran down the stairs, your feet skidding slightly on the concrete floor. You rushed into the cell and fell to your knees beside Elijah's body.

"lijah," you said softly, trying to coax him out of sleep.

He was gray, covered in dark veins, his skin felt cold. Your fingers trembled as you touched his face, your fingers running through his hair.

You laid down next to him, resting your head against his chest, listening to the lack of heartbeat. You lay there for a few minutes, crying to yourself.

You could feel Damon watching you, and it pissed you off.

"Please leave me alone," You said softly, your voice breaking, not bothering to turn and look at him.

Damon was standing there, leaning against the wall, his arms folded, and he looked at you thoughtfully.

"He's dangerous, and he's using you," Damon replied.

"He never learned anything from me!" You snapped, glaring at him, the anger boiling over. "We had an agreement, an understanding! It wasn't like that!"

Damon shook his head, and looked away from you.

"You can't be in love with him. You barely know him." Damon was trying his hardest to get you to see sense.

"Maybe, maybe I'm not," You lied, sniffling, "I just feel like there's something there, something real and I've never felt this way before,"

Damon let out an exasperated sigh, and closed his eyes.

"This will end badly, I'm not going to try and convince you anymore. You're too damn stubborn," He said, opening his eyes and looking down at you.

"Can you bring me a blanket and pillow?" You asked, changing the subject.

"No," Damon said, turning on his heel and leaving the basement.

"Asshole," You muttered, moving back to rest your head against his chest.

A few minutes later, Stefan came down the stairs, carrying a blanket and a pillow, and a bottle of bourbon.

"Thanks," You smiled weakly, taking the blanket and covering yourself with it. You took the pillow and gently lifted Elijah's head, placing the pillow underneath him.

"Is he really dead?" You asked quietly, not looking at Stefan, staring at Elijah's face.

Stefan let out a long sigh, he hated seeing you like this, the sight of you curled up next to a corpse was not a normal one.

I'm not entirely sure," he knelt down, crossing his legs and he sat on the floor next to you. "but he isn't alive either, he's frozen, asleep,"

He reached out and touched your shoulder, turning you to look at him.

"Damon wants to keep him on ice, he doesn't trust Elijah and... neither do I," he tried to say it gently, wanting you to know the truth. "if you wake him up, he will kill us for what we've done... Elena tricked him... He will not be happy,"

"Maybe he will forgive us," you said, looking at him with hopeful eyes, "what if he can feel everything? He must be so scared and lonely,"

"Do you really think he can feel fear?" Stefan asked, raising an eyebrow. "My impression of him is that he isn't the type,"

"He has a big heart, under all that arrogance," you smiled softly, touching his face, brushing the hair from his forehead. "Kinda like someone we know,"

"You've got it bad," Stefan shook his head, a little bit in awe of your feelings. "I've never seen you like this, not with any other guy."

You looked over at him, his expression was a mix of worry and sadness.

"Do you hate me? For loving him?" You asked, a knot forming in your stomach.

"No, never," he said, pulling you into his arms. "I'm worried, and scared... But I could never hate you. Ever."

"I can convince him Stefan, I can get him on our side, I know I can," you said, feeling the tears come back.

"And if you can't?" He asked, rubbing your back.

"Then... Then... I don't know..." You said, a sob choking you, unable to speak.

Stefan hated himself for what he had to do next, but it was the only way he could think to keep everyone safe.

While you were still in his arms, he pulled out a syringe and jabbed it in your neck, pushing the liquid vervain in. It was a large dose and it took about three seconds before you passed out.

He caught you before you slumped to the ground, lifting your sleeping body and carrying you upstairs.

Damon and Elena were waiting anxiously, eager to hear that Stefan had been able to talk you down from freeing Elijah.

"Is she ok?" Elena moved forward, "Did she try anything?"

"She had a bit of a melt down," Stefan said honestly, he placed you on the couch, ensuring you were tucked in and comfortable.

"What can we do to make sure she doesn't help him?" Damon asked, leaning on the doorway, unable to come closer to you. The sight of you like this broke his heart. "she's been completely brainwashed by the guy,"

"She loves him Damon," Elena said softly, walking over to him, laying her hand on his arm.

"Don't say that," he groaned, covering his face. "That makes it worse. She has to get over it."

"I don't think it works that way," Elena said gently, squeezing his arm.

"We have to keep her away from him," Damon explained, his hands dropping, he was looking at Elena now. "It's too risky."

"That will be impossible," Stefan said, shaking his head, "she's more stubborn than you, she won't give up until she has her way."

"So what do we do?" Elena asked, glancing between them.

"The only way I can think of is to keep her sedated, until I find a way to kill him for good," Damon said, his tone matter-of-fact.

"No, Damon.. that's not right," Elena protested, looking to Stefan to back her up.

Stefan couldn't meet her gaze, instead he turned away, "We don't have any other options."

"So we are just going to knock her out? That's cruel!" Elena said, feeling very disappointed.

"Got any better ideas?" Damon snapped, kneeling down in front of you. He placed his hand on your forehead, "I can't let her wake him up, he will kill us all,"

Elena sighed, shaking her head.

"She will hate us for doing this," Stefan said, not liking the idea one bit, but it was the best they had.

"Yeah, well, I can handle that," Damon shrugged, and picked you up in his arms.

He carried you to your room, gently placing you on the bed, pulling the covers up over your body. He sat next to you, tucking your hair behind your ears.

"You'll understand, eventually," He said softly, stroking your hair, before standing up and leaving the room, shutting the door quietly.

You were trapped in some sort of nightmare, everything around you was completely dark. You couldn't even see your hand in front of your face. You had no idea where you were, what was up or what was down.

You were calling out for help, your voice echoing back to you, but no one else was there.

Suddenly, you felt a presence beside you, it was warm, familiar and safe. You were drawn to it and you reached out, trying to find the source of it.

You heard the sound of a man laughing, it was a wild, maniacal laugh.

You started running, your feet hitting the ground hard, you couldn't breathe, but you didn't stop. The laughter kept coming, getting louder and louder.

Then the sound of a woman screaming nearly knocked you off your feet, but you kept going until you ran into something solid.

It was the edge of a coffin, made of wood etched with an ornate symbol on the top, a crest of some sort. Your fingers traced over it, feeling the deep grooves. It was the letter 'M', carved into a shield.

Finally, your hands found the lid, and you pushed, straining to open it. What was inside was three rings of fire, you could feel the heat on your face, the smoke making it hard to breathe.

The rings were getting closer, or you were falling into them, you couldn't tell. The screams became deafening. You were overwhelmed with intense anxiety, unable to move as you stared into the flames.

Then everything stopped.

And you woke up.

{Part One} {Part Two}{Part Three}{Part Five}

[dotdot-is-here]

Heart to Heart pt.1

Hi!! This is a short fic i made inspired by @citricacidprince 's take on the Relativity Falls au. I love their version so much!! This was originally a single fic but i thought it would be better to cut it in half and post both parts separately. The second part is about Stan and Ford and I'll post it in a few days

Summary: On the aftermath of the portal opening for the last time, both sets of twins have some conversations

"look at us, when did we get so old?"

"...that haircut makes you look like mom."

Mabel recoils in mock disgust. "Eesh! Don't say that!" She protests as she hits him lightly on the shoulder. It's a half-lie and he knows it. Even with the grey jacket and short hair, every little accessory on his sister is so undeniably Mabel that it makes something in his chest ache a little. He's seen countless colorful dimensions, but none of them are as colorful as his twin's fashion sense.

They're not the only thing old here, Mason notes. The mirror looks aged. Hell, the entire house looks aged. He briefly wonders how many things have changed just inside these walls. If he were to walk around the halls, would it be the same layout he asked to built more than 30 years ago?-

Mason inhales sharply. The kids should be sleep by now. They need to address the elephant in the room.

"Mabel listen. You can keep pretending to be me until the end of the summer. I know you have a business here and all. We'll... Figure out what to do once the boys are back home."

Mabel nods, but as soon as she looks him in the eyes the world seems to stop for a moment, as if holding its breath. Her eyes start to get watery. Before he knows it, his twin is pulling him into a hug.

"I'm so glad you're okay.."

Mason freezes, the reality of it all setting in. He's back.

His arms wrap around Mabel in slow motion, as if by pure muscle memory. By the time his chin meets her shoulder, he realizes he's crying too.

The words slip past his lips before he knows it. "I'm glad you're okay too."

"I'm sorry."

"Me too."

"It was an accident, i swear-"

"I know."

I love you

I love you too

(i started to think i would never see you again)

"I missed you Dipper..."

He sniffs, "Mabel- oh hell it's been so long since you've called me that."

They both let out a breathy, bittersweet laugh at that.

"I didn't mean to wrap you up in all of this Mabel, but i just- i-"

"You needed help. It's fine, really."

Was this about a postcard and a 20 hour drive? Was this about 30 years lost in between the mystery of dimensional travel and identity theft? Did either of them know?

They let go, reluctantly, because it's late and Mason can't remember the last time he's slept on a real bed. Mabel forgot completely about preparing the guest room so he gets to watch her flip over the house in search of fresh blankets. Even once the guest room is ready, they stay at the doorframe just a little longer.

"I got you back." Mabel whispers hesitantly, as if checking if he's is still real.

Dipper smiles "yeah, you did."

──⊹∆⊹──────⊹∆⊹──────⊹∆⊹──────⊹∆⊹───

Upstairs, the door to the attic that had been just slightly open during the heartwarming conversation closes fully. Eavesdropping is easier through an open door, after all.

[reidsaurora]

Your event is so cute!!! Could I get a sun kissed Malibu dream house with Aaron?? 🥹 in need of some fluff with him hehe

i am so so sorry this took me so long to write! writer's block these past few months has been kicking my butt. but, thanks to my awesome betas, i think i wrote something you'll like! hope you enjoy!

"Summer Lovin" ~ A. Hotchner

Summary: As the start of summer arrives, you and your friends at the BAU find yourselves feeling a bit reminiscent of the summers before. Along with that reminiscence, you start to miss the days when you and Aaron had little babies instead of big kids…

Pairing: Dad!Aaron Hotchner x Mom!Reader

Word Count: 2,019

Content Warning: lots of talk of babies/pregnancy, sexual humor, kind of fade to black smut if you read between the lines lol, small mention of food, lmk if i missed anything!

Extra Notes: i'm so sorry this took so long, i had a very hard time writing this and def meant to post it sooner. however, in the spirit of my city being under a heat advisory today, this feels appropriate to post 😂

Originally Written: 06/04/2024 through 06/25/2024

Beta Read By: @dungeons-are-too-cold and @virtual-vivi 🫶🏻🩷

Criminal Minds masterlist can be found here!

Summer Celebration info can be found here!

Sun Kissed - fluff requests

Malibu Dream House - domestic!au

Aaron tossed off the blanket, letting out a small sigh of relief. “When did it get so hot?” he grumbled, his morning voice prominent. As he rolled over to his back, you spotted a big wet spot on the front of his tee shirt from just how much he was sweating.

Still, you scooted closer to him anyway and tossed an arm over his abdomen, his familiar scent filling your senses. “News said there’d be an excessive heat wave today.”

“It's probably ninety degrees already,” he complained, “and it's not even 9:00 yet.”

Rolling onto your side to face him, you left a trail of kisses along his jawline. “Hey, Mr. Grumpy Gills,” you giggled, referencing one of your kids’ favorite movies. “When life gets you down, you know what you gotta do?”

“It's sweltering! How in the world could you possibly want to cuddle right now?” Aaron ignored your attempt to brighten the mood, instead opting to toss a pillow over his head and groan into it.

You just pulled the pillow away and left another peck on his jaw. “Because I love you. And because our children are gonna come in here any minute to take you away from me.”

He noticed the small pout that followed your statement, the expression enough to soften even Aaron Hotchner, king of stoicism, up. “Alright, fine. I'll allow it. But only because you drive a hard bargain.”

Your pout was replaced with a smirk as you snuggled closer into his side. “Mmm, that means a lot, coming from an ex-prosecutor. Maybe I should've gone to law school with you.”

“You're too sensitive for the big house, or whatever they say,” Aaron snickered. After noticing your look of offense, he quickly covered with, “I didn't mean it in a bad way. You have feelings. It's a very nice thing to come home to after dealing with emotionless psychopaths all day.”

“I think you're trying to compliment me. I'll take it.”

His lips met yours for a quick peck before saying, “I have nothing but compliments for you, my love,” Then, he met you with a second, much longer kiss, and while he tasted like morning breath, moments like this were so rare that you were willing to look past it.

One of his large hands met your leg, his calloused fingertips trailing along your bare skin. It felt like a lifetime since you'd been like this, with two children always needing your attention and the FBI always needing Aaron's. Just a simple touch of his fingers had you forgetting about the outside world, if even for just a moment.

Your lips met his neck, his stubble scratchy against your skin. He'd been away on a case in Seattle for about a week, and you were certain he hadn't shaved the whole trip. You liked it that way anyway.

His hand traveled further up under your nightgown, settling on your thigh. He squeezed the supple skin, a gesture of both affection and want.

“Are you trying to go for number three?” you joked before kissing his neck once more.

“Believe me,” Aaron chuckled, “if I knew I had enough time, I'd certainly try.”

As if on cue, four scurrying feet came stamping across the hardwood floor into your bedroom. “Good morning, Daddy!” both of your children yelled in sync, climbing onto the edge of the bed.

“That's why you're not allowed a third,” you mumbled into his ear. “The ones you have don't even appreciate me.”

“They love you, I promise,” he whispered, kissing your cheek. To the kids, he said, “Good morning. Don't you have anything else you want to say?”

They both turned to you, sheepish looks coming across their tiny, adorable faces. “Good morning, Mommy.”

“That's better,” Aaron said, gaining him a snicker from you. “Now, may I ask why the two of you are up so early and you're already in your swimsuits?”

It was then that you realized he was right. Jack, the older of your children, was sporting his favorite Spiderman swim trunks, while his little sister, Libby, had managed to dress herself in a cherry-print swimsuit she hadn't quite grown into yet. They made your heart melt.

“Daddy,” Libby sighed, clearly exasperated with her father, “don't you know what day it is?”

It happened to be the day your kids hadn't stopped talking about for weeks: the beginning-of-summer pool party you and Aaron threw every year for your friends and his coworkers at the BAU.

Aaron tapped a finger against his chin, his brows furrowing as he thought. “Let's see… it's not Libby’s birthday, and it's not Jack’s birthday, it's not my birthday, and I don't think it's your mom’s birthday,” his last comment earned him a sarcastic look from you. “Hmm, what day could it be?”

You joined in on his little game, tapping against your chin as you pretended to think. “Perhaps it's Christmas?”

Jack narrowed his eyes at you. “It's too early in the year for Christmas,” he said matter-of-factly.

“You're right.” As you continued tapping your finger, you shot Aaron a knowing look, which he gladly returned. He could tell by the gleam in your eye exactly what you meant with that look. “Is it…”

Each of you grabbed a kid, tickling and eliciting little squeals and giggles. “Pool party day?!” the two of you shouted in sync.

Libby thrashed around in your arms, laughing and squirming, while Jack attempted to escape his father's arms. Moments like these were almost as rare as the ones with just you and Aaron, so you had to take advantage of them while you could.

“It's pool party day!” Libby squeaked, while Jack was laughing so hard, he could barely breathe.

Their smiles and laughs pulled at your heartstrings. You wondered when the universe decided to make your babies grow up, since it seemed like only yesterday when you had a newborn and a two-year-old.

Bringing yourself out of your nostalgic trance, you pulled yourself out of the bed, grabbing each kid by the hand. “Who wants to make pancakes while Daddy’s in the shower?”

—

Soon enough, all your friends had arrived and it felt like summer had too. Penelope and Spencer were currently entertaining all the kids, while the other men were crowded around the grill and the rest of the ladies were sitting poolside and working on their tans.

“You ever wonder if either of them will have kids?” JJ asked, nodding toward Penelope and Spencer.

“Spencer, a hundred percent,” Emily answered, like her statement was a fact. “Penelope, I'm not so sure.”

You were next to jump into the conversation, not even bothering to look up from your magazine. “Why do you ask, Jen?”

JJ let out a longing sigh. “It's been so long since we've had a baby around here.”

Putting the magazine down, you looked over to her, eyebrows creased. “Henry's only three. It hasn't been that long.”

“You don't miss having a baby at our get-togethers? Emily, where do you stand?”

“Don’t look at me,” Emily said with wide eyes. “If I didn't have to change another diaper for a lifetime, it still wouldn't be long enough.” She was the one person in the group that was rather indifferent to children, but babies, she'd rather not talk about or be around.

“Yeah, babies are nice,” you said, “but the pregnancy part? That's what I'd rather go a lifetime without.”

“Well, I'm sure there's one thing we can all agree on,” JJ snickered. “At least making the baby is fun.”

Emily tossed the pillow behind her back in the direction of her coworker, giggling all the while. “Jennifer!”

“What?” she laughed as she swatted the pillow away. “Am I wrong?”

You let out a small snicker yourself, shooting a glance in the direction of your husband, who was currently taking his turn in manning the grill.

Neither of your friends missed that look, both their mouths falling agape at the expression. “Spill!” they squealed in sync.

Penelope made her way over from the edge of the pool, her face overtaken by the brightest smile known to mankind. “I heard the ‘Someone has beans to spill’ variety of squeals and giggles. What am I missing?”

“Nothing,” you insisted with an eye roll.

Emily patted the edge of her chaise, welcoming Penelope over. “Come sit, we're gonna get it out of her. After all, two out of three of us are profilers.”

Your eyes narrowed at the brunette. “Do you forget that I also used to be a profiler before my kids came along?”

“Stop changing the subject,” Penelope said with a swat of her hand. “Spill your guts. What did I miss?”

“Well, we were talking about how it's been so long since anyone on the team, past or present, has had a kid,” Jennifer explained.

“And someone looked at her husband with that look,” Emily further explained.

You scoffed. “It was not that look.”

“It totally was,” your friends spoke in sync.

Penelope's face lit up like a child in a candy store, her mind clearly running rampant with ideas of what the look meant. “Oh my God, are you-”

“No!” you quickly interrupted, knowing exactly where that question was headed. “Not yet anyway,” you mumbled under your breath.

The three of them practically jumped out of their seats and gathered around you, all screams and smiles.

“We haven't even had the conversation yet!”

“But you're going to!” Penelope insisted.

You rolled your eyes, but internally, you couldn't be happier for the gift of friendship from these three women. Jennifer, the mom friend in more ways than one. Emily, the voice of reason who not-so-secretly had a funny side and always knew how to make you laugh. And Penelope, the perfect shoulder to cry on and perfect soul to confide in. Lucky didn't even begin to describe how you felt about knowing these women.

Suddenly, you found yourself— as Penelope had said— spilling your guts. “I don't know. This morning just felt… different. Like, maybe it wouldn't be so bad to have another baby around.”

The three of them flooded you with comments of love and support, hugs wrapping around you from each direction. Having another baby would be different, of course, but your friends were making sure that you knew it would be a good kind of different.

“I still have to get Aaron on board, so no one get too excited,” you reminded them.

JJ was already way ahead of you. “We've got the kids, Rossi and Derek have the grill. Don't worry about anything out here. You and your man deserve a moment of free time.”

“Just so we're clear,” you said, pointing a finger as if to further prove your point, “we are just going to talk. No funny business.”

Emily snickered. “Yeah, the same way you guys used to ‘talk’ on the jet?” Your cheeks heated to a bright red shade at her comment.

“Ew, Hotch is in the mile high club?!” Penelope practically screamed. Luckily, everyone else seemed too engrossed in conversation to hear her, but you were still mortified nonetheless.

“Okay, scratch what I said. I'm actually going inside to give myself a lobotomy.”

And with that, your friends were shouting in sync different variations of “Have fun!”

Then, with a smile on your face from both the joy of friendship and the love you had for your husband, you found yourself heading over to the grill and pulling Aaron away. His reaction was nothing short of laughter as you practically dragged him toward the house, his shirt nearly coming off with how hard you were tugging it.

Lips met skin as you closed the back door behind you. Aaron let out another chuckle, though he surely wasn't protesting your affection. “Woah, that look in your eyes tells me you're the one thinking about number three,” he commented, referencing your words from that morning.

“Well,” you said as your fingers started to trail under the hem of his dark gray tee shirt. With another kiss to his neck, you continued, “About that…”

taglist: @1234-angelika @lowsodiumfreaks67 @drayshadow @alexxavicry @cordyandbilliehavemyheart @the-lucky-ones311 @mercuryvapours @darkloverfox @sammyrenae68 @cherrycandle @asgardprincess97 @gh0stgurl @esposadomd @randomwriter1021 @eddieharrington @paintlavillered @lavhoes @rhyanishere @danielle143 @handsupforamiracle @ah-blossom @reidselle @dungeons-are-too-cold @louderfortheback @reidsbookclub @cwritesforfun @lover-of-books-and-tea

[eluxcastar]

Hello Riri! :]

I'm in my platonic harbingers with a child reader era, and you're one of the few people I follow who writes platonic stuff on an occasion. So here's my request!

Here's the small storyline I have. Reader is the child of a god (you're free to decide what they are the god of, if you want) who is extremely well known around Tevyat, and puts on a very intimidating and serious presence. Yet one unfortunate day, the readers parent dies, so now they have to take on their legacy at a too young of age. Making them grow up out of their childhood much faster and pressuring them into becoming exactly like their parent. Cold, intimidating, and serious.

And out of all the mortals the reader has met, the harbingers are who they find comfort in. They could be lecturing some other mortal one minute, and the next minute, they see one of the harbingers. They're grabbing them by the hands, bouncing on their tip toes with a bright smile.

(Hope you're having a good day! And please don't overwork yourself<3)

Fatui harbingers with a child god

── ୨୧：fatui harbingers & reader

୨୧﹑synopsis :: child reader taking over as archon and basically immediately proving why child rulers are a bad idea but it's ok because it's cute and endearing

୨୧﹑genre :: fluff

୨୧﹑content :: gn reader, god reader, signora might be ooc tbh I struggled to think for her, not proofread

୨୧﹑words :: 3k

this has been in my inbox for some time, even though I've really wanted to do it for ages. I'm sorry honey it took me a while to get to it. the description of their parent at least to me was giving mr zhongli when he was morax and I immediately thought of the ramifications of him faking his death in the rite of descension which makes me wanna write something else BUT THAT'S FOR LATER

I meant to post this four and a half hours ago but suddenly it was like twice the length I thought it would be and uh yeah that was not the plan but enjoy the food served hot and fresh

There has hardly been a moment of grief since you were orphaned, and the people are turning to you for their next overseer. You, small, fragile, and ill-prepared, are the one they wish to see take up the pillar left in your father's wake. You weren't ready, and maybe you never would've been, embraced by the caring side of your well and truly mellowed-out father and cherished by the people as the child of the nation.

Your transition from people's treasure to people's guide was jarring, and you're still not used to it. You move with what pleases and hide what brings deep frowns and disappointed eyes. The people no longer want a child but a god. They want their pride, once a god who had walked by their side for millennia, now the passing generation of a god as the mantle shifts to his blood.

It's hard not to notice what they make you, now the spitting image of your father, though you can only parrot his earned wisdom and show a brave face to keep the nation from despair.

You have but a single ally—the Tsaritsa—someone whose messengers approached you to ask for your father's gnosis and who gladly agreed to offer you an invitation to Snezhnaya at your request to speak to her personally, quite honestly not knowing how to say that you frankly didn't know what to do with the gnosis. Though you could keep it, you're unsure how to harness its power, wield it, or even control it. Your father was strong, you're not.

She is an intimidating presence but gentle. She knew of your father for as long as she had been an archon—though they weren't on good terms toward the end—perhaps you could understand her more than he would. He was the original archon in his seat, but you are an inheritor like her. In her lands, you are the careful balance of both a god and a child, spoken to with the grace of a higher power but the softness that is befitting to a young child.

It is as you are.

Tartaglia is the first to seek a test of your strength, though you wish not to hurt him and convince him to wait. So long as the answer is someday, he allows you to let him down easily and settles at indulging your requests to join the snowball fight you noticed him having. You want to join in, fidgeting and with your gaze flickering between the smiling children and your feet. You push away your every want to join them and play as well, but remind yourself of the people who would scorn you. It's unfitting for a god to behave like an immature child, you remind yourself, but every hope of remaining steadfast to that is gone as Tartaglia notices you watching.

His offer is merely that—an offer. He speaks with a snowball forming in his hands as he approaches, his thick coat engulfing his form and the red scarf bundled around his neck to keep him warm. You have to look up to meet his eyes, playful and perhaps a little mischievous. Tartaglia holds the snowball out to you as if it were his peace offering.

"You look like you want to join the fun. Care to throw a snowball or two with us?"

"May I?"

And with that, you take his offering.

Pantalone's musings and the intentions of his gifts are not beyond you. He means to win you over and perhaps spoil you a little. It is coddling, and you notice it. He wants what he wants, and he will get it out of you, but it is also not beyond him to recognise that you are...naïve, endearingly. Pantalone can lavish you in fine silks all he wants, but you have received many offerings, so they don't particularly sway you as he had hoped, and he moves on. Your true weakness lies in children's toys, the many things you have been denied since you have been forced to steel yourself. The smile that twitches at the corners of your lips as he presents you with the first is enough to confirm it.

Toys are made for children; though you try to deny it, you are still a child at heart. Gifting a child a toy they will try to pretend they don't cherish but will protect with their life is perhaps the quickest way to earn their favour. He watches as you fiddle with the arms of the plush cat when you think nobody is looking, asking it questions and then responding to yourself in an all-too-dedicated voice you put on for this cat. 

"Oh, Mr Cat, would you like some borscht too? It's very good."

"Yes, please, I would love to try some!"

Pantalone admittedly can't deny that you come with your own charms.

Signora spoils you what many of your aids have tried to before you, the chance to fix your hair, marvel at a pretty lady and wish you were half as sophisticated as her. She is your role model, second only to the Tsaritsa. She is beautiful and elegant and willing to teach you her ways as long as you continue to show up as cute as you are. Fix your posture a bit, head up, and walk everywhere with purpose, even if there isn't one. She has mastered the art, and you want it. Pantalone has his own appeal, a sophisticated man who learned through blood, sweat and tears, but there is something so distinct about Signora that makes you run to her at your first problem of presentation.

Like your mother, she will take you by the hand, lead you to a mirror, straighten your back, tilt your head up by the chin, and tell you to look at yourself now. Each time, you stare dumbly in awe of her reflection standing behind you, observing you like something precious, and it fills you with the confidence you need to heed her advice. It doesn't occur to you that Signora looks at you that way only because she thinks you're cute in your efforts, but too much like a child who got into their mother's perfume to be taken seriously.

"How others see you is important. Do you think they want to see their god with their back slouched and head hung? Hold your gaze above the people."

"It's-- well, different. I think I just look tense."

Sandrone has also come to realise that your weakness lies in toys, though she will not admit to aiding and abetting Pantalone's endeavours to find you a plushie. Instead, she shows you Katheryne. You have seen Katheryne before; you are sure of that, and that is only confirmed as Sandrone informs you that she exists in every branch of the Adventurers' Guild, including the one in your homeland. Katheryne is your access to knowledge, and the Northland Bank is your connection to Snezhnaya. Sandrone offers you comfort, the path that will lead you back to where help is and where you can go when you become overwhelmed by responsibility.

She likes your company, a reluctant admission that does not come cheap as she bargains your silence with the knowledge that she's aware of your liking for your cat toy. The embarrassment that overwhelms you is palpable until she offers you her workshop to play when your quarters are so overcrowded by your aids. You couldn't come to Snezhnaya alone for your safety, and it leaves you stranded without a moment of peace at times.

"Really?...and I can just, stay here? For as long as I want?"

"Isn't that what was offered to you?"

"Well...yes, thank you."

Scaramouche, whom you meet adjacent to Sandrone, is ill-tempered in the presence of others but a tad nicer when it comes to you. He does not drop his rough-around-the-edges personality to melt his heart out of his chest for you, but you manage to strike the perfect cord in his to gain liberties others cannot, having him share sweets with you. You learned at one point he really doesn't like them, leading you to wonder why they suddenly appeared ready and available for you to stuff your pockets full and snack on them when nobody's looking. You earn his favour through endearment and talk to him like he's normal because he is.

He is the child of a god, though in a different capacity to you. He was not loved quite so dearly by his mother and cannot share with you the pain of losing someone who treasured you. He was merely abandoned. There is the vague part of you that shuns the idea his softness is pity, sympathy even, as you're stuck stumbling through the world alone. It is all too familiar to him, and if candy will make you smile at him so cheerfully and hug him so tightly, then candy is a simple trade-off.

"Are you sure you don't want any? These are yours."

"Sickly sweet things make me feel like my teeth are fusing together. You can have them."

Pulcinella reminds you of home, the trinkets gathered on a whim that he keeps, the years showing through the rooms dedicated to him as you notice things your father told you of in stories. These are stories that Pulcinella will start off on without prompting, indulging your curiosity before you even lowered your guard enough to show it and casually enough that you slowly ask more. Every item holds a story: what it is, how he obtained it, why he kept it, who it was for. You see many such things around what used to be your house, but you don't know all of the stories, treasuring the ones you remember.

Pulcinella doesn't recall every story either, as some of your pointing and questioning is met with remarks of how long it has been. It is the only thing you feel you share with him, a living space filled to the brim with memories. Many of your trinkets don't belong to you, but his do, and it's nice to hear someone tell you stories again as he lets you pick from the collection of sweets in your pockets to eat when it suits your fancy.

"What about this? It reminds me of a lumenstone, the ones from the chasm."

"It is, and it came from Liyue when I asked that one of my subordinates bring it back for me. You must have a fine eye for these things."

"Not really, only lumenstone and noctilucous jade glow like this."

Arlecchino's offering to you is company, and plenty of it. Children who are so far removed from the stretch of news beyond the issues of the Steambird they manage to get their hands on that they wouldn't know your face from a haggler on the street. Father brought a guest to play with, and that's what matters as they induct you into their games, teach you the rules, and regard you exactly as they regard every other child their age. You are given the choice to simply become nobody, and you love it. Though you were once only a child, you were still the child of a god, and everyone knew it. Now, you elicit excitement only because someone new enters their lives, someone to learn about and befriend, merely a guest their father brought them.

Despite her sharp exterior, she is sweeter to you than you expected. You thought Arlecchino might be scarier, meaner, harsher, but she softens when she speaks to you. It is not with the cutthroat demeanour she holds speaking to the Harbingers and lacks a degree of the stern attitude she fronts to the children. You are not the average child, and it's necessary to treat you with some degree of respect, but you notice she's gentler with you than others, and it almost makes you feel special.

Columbina has sung you to sleep many times during your stay; her voice is sweet and more than enough to calm you. You let her hold your cat plush and dance with you in the hallways with the excuse you need knowledge of these things should you aspire toward being an archon, even if spinning around until you fall on the floor from dizziness and burst out laughing is a tad non-traditional. Columbina can see things others can't notice more than the human eye is capable of, and you'd rather not know what that's like. Something in the way she speaks tells you that it's hardly adjacent to anything human, closer to you, but still quite far off. It's interesting to hear the strange things humans have no business knowing.

Your hand is grasped in Columbina's, her fingers holding you tenderly. Her eyes are partly obscured beneath the lattice of a mask she wears. You're not sure if you could really call it a mask. She steps back, tugging you with her, and spins you in time with the steps she takes, each accompanied by a shift that forces you to keep up with where she moves, her other hand on your shoulder. It is the closest you will get to proper dancing, though merely a fool's waltz. You can't dance; being spun down a hallway while you struggle to match her movements feels much like you imagine a waltz would.

"It's not really proper dancing if we have no pattern to it."

"There is no such thing as proper dancing. If you'd prefer it, I could sing."

Dottore is someone you did not expect to be so open to the idea of you, and your assumptions were proven correct by his apprehension to engage with you. He is curt with you at best and avoidant at worst. You are a child filled with the yearning to touch everything that doesn't belong to you, desperate to hear too much about the things that don't concern you. You are young, needy, and with no concept of what is beyond you. Dottore's unique abundance of knowledge is appealing to you, however. He knows things your father did, many of which he didn't tell you, but Dottore will, so long as it gets you to sit still and stop interrupting him. You may be convinced you have pocketed your unnecessary emotions away, but he has seen you, and that is an insulting lie.

Your wants are written on your face plain as day, so long as people pay enough attention to you to care what you feel. He does not especially care, not for the child of a god, but it helps to know what you want to stick your nose in most. It helps to know how you benefit from him, and on luckier days, you might even catch him in a better mood when he is willing to indulge your interest in his knowledge. Your capacity to understand, let alone remember, hardly worries him.

"So you have clones of yourself? And they just...work for you?"

"Not exact clones—segments. They have wills of their own and use them as they see fit."

Capitano is strong, a man of few words, and he does not abhor your presence quite so strongly, nor does he indulge your more childish desires. What you get from Capitano is respect, the highest honour you can get from his book in your eyes, and it comes from your perseverance. You're running around working so hard when you're so young, and you deserve a break sometimes. You deserve a quiet place to curl up in the corner with that cat he's caught you hiding under where no one can bother you, and maybe with a few sweets you always seem to have these days. That corner still does not exist, though he will find you one if you want it. 

You show no signs of slowing down, are energetic and eager and are far too committed to the act of being something you're not to listen to him when he tells you to rest. Gods must all be fickle. The most he can do for you is make sure you're safe and happy as you will be in your position, maybe wipe your hands of powdered sugar when you find pastries at the market you want and recklessly eat them without thinking of how you'll clean up short of wiping the remnants on your clothes, but you'll never do that as you are.

Pierro once made you nervous. He is a stern, serious man who never smiles. Pierro is steadfast in loyalty and never wavers, which is precisely what you have begun to aspire to be now that that is what has been asked of you. You could never hope to replicate the kind of dedication he has, and perhaps that is part of what sways you. Though you have become so comfortable behaving childishly around some people, you fear you may never be around him, whether because you fear his disapproval or yearn for his approval. Despite that, he is arguably who you trail around behind most, quiet, observing, trying to figure out how to copy and apply what he has to yourself.

It settles the quick realisation he reminds you most of what the people saw in your father. Someone like him is someone people envision fostering a nation to prosperity, and you fight your own subconscious to keep all of your slipping habits, making sure he never sees you sneaking candy, hiding your cat plush from him, refusing Tartaglia's every offer to play games around him. You're not sure why you think that will make him like you more, having long ago gained his favour, unable to notice the faint smiles and the conscious effort to make you believe he doesn't notice you out the window barreling snowballs at Tartaglia.

You are still a child at heart; he is just about the last person you can hope to hide that from.

[fanofthings20]

Rio Vidal x Reader Angst Request

This was requested by @miraslittlecrow. I hope this story is what you were hoping for! Thank you for the request and the fun challenge, I'm sorry it took me so long to finally posted it and I do apologize if this is a complete disaster!!

All the promtps are highlighted in bold and were created by the amazing and talented @me-writes-prompts

Without further ado, after 14-hour days for 7 straight, internet issues, about 16 rewrites, and changing the prompts about three times here is the story. Until next time farewell and happy Agatha All Along episode 7 night!!

___________________________________________________________

It was after midnight when a bloody, beaten, and worn-down soul returned home. Trying their hardest to stay silent to not alert their wife now that they were finally home after being delayed for an additional two days than the original eight days that was originally expected. You would have been back two hours ago but you were determined to patch yourself up the best you could so your wife who would no doubt already be worried about the delay, it would only stress her to see injuries and put the lives you just risked everything for in grave danger from her wrath. This is the downside to having the job of a life guardian with protection witch abilities while your wife is Lady Death who is protective and quick to anger.

Turning into the living room has you feeling lightheaded and your using the back of the couch as a crutch to keep yourself upright. You waited for a few minutes till the feeling passed thinking it was safe managing to round to the front of the couch before feeling a wet sensation against your left hand that was holding your right side. Pulling your hand off your side you see that the stitches for that large gash had ripped again and you'd already lost so much blood you barely made it onto the couch before the rest of your strength left you.

Meanwhile, Rio had been forced to collect more souls in the last four days than she would have liked. She would much rather wait at home for y/n to return, given that they were already two days behind their return date. Unfortunately, Death waits for no one, and Rio was super-speeding the process intending to get home faster. Finally, arriving at the house for the last two souls that needed to be collected tonight it happened to be an elderly couple. Rio always enjoyed collecting elderly couples who passed together because it was well deserved. Even though she was in a rush to get home she took her time with this couple getting to know them while providing a smooth transition.

When she returned to the living world she felt a searing pain in her chest at the same time it felt like a soul was close to collection. The searing pain was from the bond with her wife that alone was concerning enough but in occurrence as the death call skyrocketed Rio’s panic and in her rush to get home she teleported to the wrong location twice before finally making it home. Running up the path barreling through the door, and using magic to close the door the house was dark no lights had been turned on. Rio was using their bond to range how close she was to y/n and her ability to adjust to the darkness to rush up the stairs to their bedroom.

Upon crossing the bedroom’s threshold she noticed the room was untouched. Stopping long enough to check the bathroom before she rushed back downstairs, she was on the way to their back porch which was your favorite spot had it not been for the weak whimpering sound you made on the couch from jostling your injury. The sound had her turned around and on her knees at your side in a split second using her magic she turned on the living room lamps which illuminated your state to her. Normally nothing would phase her but your bruised state and the extent of your injuries were unlike any you had ever bared before. She knew the insane risks of your job as a life guardian but had been managing until now but she could no longer put off the conversations she had been withholding from you anymore.

Your voice was so weak when you tried putting on the brave act of “It’s fine, I’m okay-“ but she was quick to gently cut you off with “No you’re not, you’re injured and it’s all their fault!”. She was so sick of the fools who lived without abandon and required a life guardian to keep living. If she could she’d gladly take all their souls in an instant to keep you from harm but she couldn’t break the cycle of life rules without major consequences. If you didn’t require her immediate attention and care to keep you from being the next soul she was forced to collect she would be out that door in a second to give the person you risked everything such a life-altering scare to keep them from needing you ever again.

But you needed her now, especially with the large gash that was gushing blood out. She took out her favorite curved knife to cut your shirt off so she could have full access to your injuries to heal them. When your shirt had been removed and the true extent of your injuries was revealed to her, she was scared that she couldn’t heal it. The gash went from your right side across your abdomen it was deep with significant blood loss your other symptoms included breathing faster than normal, feeling confused and weak, sweating, low body temperature, fast pulse and slowly losing consciousness.

Rio tried to be gentle but she could only go so far when she had to put her hands directly on your wounds to heal it with her magic. Putting pressure on your wounds and the magic closing them again, causing you immense pain that had your already exhausted body past its limit to where your whimpering increased along with your feeble attempts to get away from Rio’s hands. Your rational side knew Rio was helping but you were so confused by the pain and blood loss that you weren’t capable of seeing it as helping. Rio couldn’t take her hands away from your wounds yet so all she could currently offer you were words of love to try and ease your confusion and discomfort.

“Cara Mia, I know it hurts”

“Your going to be okay”

“It’s almost over mi amor”

“We are going to have a long conversation when this is all over”

Rio had finally finished healing your wounds and could take her hands off your abdomen. You had passed out when the wound was halfway through mending. After she checked your heartbeat and breathing status, she walked to the kitchen where she collected a bowl of water and a hand towel to wash both her hands and clean you off the best she could. When you were cleaned off Rio took a few minutes to lay her head over your abdomen to feel you breathing and leave a trail of kisses along where your newest scar lies trying to calm her racing heart and remind herself you were still here with her. There wasn’t much she could offer for blood loss but two potions, food, hydration, and rest.

When she left you this time it was a return trip to the kitchen to clean the bloody bowl and prepare the potions and food. Who knows how long you’ll be passed out for so it was a waiting game for Rio which gave her time to think about one of your earlier interactions and what she wanted to say to you after all these years of holding back. One of her favorite interactions was when you had presumably saved her from a booby-trapped section of the woods. You did not know that she was Death at the time, there had been many interactions between you both throughout the years. You thought she was alluring, irresistible, and you knew this section of the wood was trapped. She had stepped on a hidden pressure plate for the arrow bolt's release, but before one could hit her, she instantly knew it was you. Hell, yall had fucked so many times at this point that you could recognize each other instantly just by your bodies. “You saved me back there…you didn’t have to. You could’ve gotten yourself kille-” (Rio) “I’d always choose you over myself. You should be well aware of that by now, my dear.” (You).

It had caught her off guard how willing you were to always put her first over yourself. Dare she say that made you even sexier in her eyes and so much harder to deny feelings for you anymore. She almost lost you tonight in more ways than one, physically and she would have been forced to take your soul from the living world to the soul realm a place she could never enter. She finished making everything and kept the food warm with her magic going back into the living room carefully lifting your head and sliding in under you. She ran a hand through your hair while the other was holding your wrist keeping track of your heartbeat.

She knew you probably wouldn’t hear or remember this conversation but she needed to say it to you “You know, you don’t have to do this. You don’t always have to stand up for people. I worry that no one will stand up for you in return when the time comes, because they take you for granted. And I hate that.” “Let me help you, please. I can’t stand on the side, quietly staring at all the scars you carry.” She couldn’t stand by anymore in the shadows and let you do this alone, there were only so many years where she’d let you go but now if you ever fully recovered from this she would be at your side from now on.

[indulgentdaydream]

Hello luv, first of all... I LOVE NURSE!READER!!! OH god the last lines were soooooo heartwarming for my social worker heart!! LOVE LOVE IT 🩷🩷

So, may I request a Jason x reader again but with a little something... Jealous Jason because reader and Roy know each other longer than Jay and reader and then he gets all jelly and and—! Oh god I love a jealous petty man.

Missy when she fucks up the queue and queues this post for NEXT YEAR by accident 🫣🙃 NEXT YEAR?? LIKE THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE POSTED LAST FRIDAY AND I DIDN'T EVEN NOTICE THAT IT DIDN'T GO UP

anyways AHHH THANK YOU SO MUCH your words are already heartwarming ♥️

I loveeee jealous jason imma cook this up so quick just you wait and see (i wrote this when i first made the draft and i found it funny to leave it. It’s literally been a month I’m so sorry)

I also made this into headcanons because I had a VISION and did not think to give it any justice. (koi youre seriously my number 1 supporter i hope you enjoy this garbage I just threw up, really)

Pining!Jealous!Jason Todd x Reader

Warnings: slight jealousy (not too overly consuming), alcohol consumption

Roy had invited Jason to hang out at the bar

Bros being bros

except...

Roy brought you along (because he KNOWS Jason has got a fat crush on you whether or not he’s told him)

(He tried to convince roy it’s not a crush, but always fails because his whole demeanour changes when you walk in the room)

examples:

he's always going to be standing beside you, consciously or not

jason isn't always a tense guy. But he for sure isn't as long as you're talking to him/looking at him/etc. (but if you put your hand on his arm/touch him in any way, it's game over)

your name is brought up, he's listening SO INTENTLY

like a dog when it hears its favourite word

Anyways

The three of you are sitting in a booth

It was originally you and roy before jason showed up, the two of you on either side

Jason shows up and just sits right next to you. No hesitation.

You and roy are laughing away, recounting stories and telling jokes.

Jason is just... really quiet

unusually quiet

He doesn’t look at you guys, rather looking out across the bar, trying to hide the fact he’s feeling this way

That he's feeling unreasonably jealous of his best friend

who literally brought you FOR JASON

He knows it’s stupid. He trusts both of you. You two are the two people he trusts the MOST

He hates that he’s like this, but he can't help it

Roy's better than him. You've known him for longer. He's making you laugh harder than Jason ever has. He's better looking, too. Older. More experienced.

His thoughts are clogging up his head. He's really not listening anymore, just holding his beer, eyes scanning the bar floor, watching the other patrons.

Then Roy is standing in front of him, saying something about using the bathroom.

He is giving a VERY pointed look at Jason.

a "make conversation with your crush or I'm shoving an arrow down your throat" kind of look

Jason felt a little stab of genuine anxiety shoot through him.

He's talked to you alone before. Many times. You two were friends, of course. He doesn't know why this is how he's feeling right now.

Then your hand is resting on his forearm.

Poor boy is still so caught up in his head he just looks down at your hand for definitely a second too long before finally meeting your gaze

Your gaze with those stupidly pretty eyes.

Then comes that horrendously pretty voice, "You alright?"

He nods. Shrugs. Like a stupid teenager who doesn't know how to handle his emotions.

He has to admit he's still a little tense about your attention being focused more on Roy. But not to you. He'd never admit it to you. You'd probably find it unattractive and then he'd really never have a chance.

“Yeah, no, im enjoying the talking. Always forget how well you and roy know each other”

“Oh yeah he just knows how to get me going. You know how he is”

Jason doesn’t know how he does it.

Like some leap of faith.

Some, jealousy super-powered leap.

He tries to be non-chalant about it.

“It’d be nice to do this again sometime. Maybe without Roy around.”

BOY'S HEART IS POUNDING

Sipping on his beer, looking down at it instead to avoid eye contact with you so he doesn't lose his cool.

Or someone show on his face that he is actually shitting bricks

You don't respond for a second and the alarm bells start going off in his head

WHY DID I SAY THAT WHY DID I SAY THAT WHY DID I SAY-

"It would be nice," you say, "Could we make it a date instead?"

He's smiling, turning to nod at you, "Course we can."

But his internal dialogue is just straight screaming at himself

"IDIOT YOU SHOULD'VE MADE IT OBVIOUS YOU WANTED IT TO BE A DATE IN THE FIRST PLACE"

The things jealousy will make you do

Roy comes back and sits down

Jason's into the conversation now

It doesn't really matter that Roy is still making you laugh

because he's not the one holding your hand under the table

AH I HOPE YOU LIKE -missy

I also love a jealous petty man (as long as it doesn't become toxic and he doesn't use it as an excuse to be an asshole)

[henrioo]

°•*⁀➷ MINE TO CLAIM: ZORO

꒰ SYNOPSIS ꒱ : In a full moon night your werewolf boyfriend can be a little wild and uncontrollable, good that you don't mind helping him with all his needs.

꒰ WARNINGS ꒱ : AMAB! READER, MALE! READER, NSFW, MLM, HOMO SEX, rough sex, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, werewolf stuff (full moon, heat, knot, biting/mark, mate), impregnation talk (Zoro wants to make the reader a dad), breeding kink, the reader CAN'T get pregnant but Zoro doesn't care

꒰ WC ꒱ : 1,1k

꒰ NOTES ꒱ : So again, minors and fem DNI, you be blocked and blah blah, I'm not in a good mental state to post a long notes, so sorry. The thing I can say is I will try to finish the ask because I am already taking too long, and I will try to finish translating my other stuff to post, I hope this helps me get better, thanks for all the support and enjoy!

You held tighter to the pile of pillows, there was padding everywhere thanks to Zoro's claws that had ripped some pillows and cushions from the nest he built. You thought that nests were things for omegas in fanfictions, but it seemed that in reality all wolves had one. Since Zoro no longer slept in the forest now that you were dating, and you forbade him to sleep in the middle of the woods when you had a house in perfect condition, it wasn't strange to realize that he really missed something more traditional from his werewolf origins.

You helped him build the nest with lots of love, using a small spare room in your house, the two of you were able to build a nest and a small den for when Zoro felt like snuggling, following his instincts in a more natural place for his breed. It was basically a mess of sheets, your and Zoro's clothes, as well as several pillows and cushions to make you comfortable. You also covered the window with black plastic so that it would always be darker and more cozy for both of you.

Usually, you and Zoro just laid there cuddling, especially when he was in his full form. Sometimes you ate and watched movies on your cell phone, nothing too strange or exotic. That was until Zoro finally asked you to marry him and asked if he could mark you as his mate, saying he couldn't bear to go out with you on the street anymore, knowing that you didn't have his mark or scent. After some explanations about this ritual, you accepted both requests with great emotion, deciding to become Zoro's become his fiancé and also his companion.

Since the branding ritual, a deep bite on your neck that bled and left you in pain for weeks, unable to even turn your neck, every full moon, his nest, which was once just a spare room for snuggles, has become something much more… Intimate.

“Zoro!” You screamed his name for the thousandth time that night, your ass was high in the air and if it weren't for Zoro's big hands with huge claws holding you by your thighs, your wobbly legs would have already given up on you.

Your entire body was burning, and you had already cum so many times that your dick was so sensitive and Zoro hadn't even fucked you yet, he was too busy with foreplay. He was now licking your hole like he was sucking on ice cream, sticking his huge tongue so deep you could see stars, you were already drooling against the nest and every scent of your wolf was so intoxicating that you felt drunk and sick from his pheromones.

“Mine, mine, mine” Zoro didn't speak properly during mating season, he usually growled and released small compliments or affirmations of possession. He tried to show all his feelings just through actions, not being able to trust his tongue to express all his desires.

He finally pulled away from your hole, which was now dripping with saliva, and enjoyed the view for a bit. You were squeezing around nothing, and you were stretched and wet enough to take him. Zoro was always twice as careful during the full moon, knowing that for a human it would be much more difficult and painful to take a werewolf's knot completely. He quickly bit your ass a little hard and slapped the other side, then he stood up and leaned over you.

He placed kisses on your back, feeling you relax as he began to smell your neck and hair, making you shiver and let out a soft moan. He quickly began rubbing his nose against the huge bite mark on your neck and licking it affectionately, feeling pride fill his chest knowing that you were completely his and anyone could know that.

“Zoro… Please” you begged whimpering for him, you were already so tired and overstimulated that you were afraid you would pass out before the wolf was able to stick his dick in you. “I want your cock, please, please, I need it so much” you begged him, begged him to finally satisfy you both and not prolong this pleasurable torture any longer.

“Do you want my cock?” He growled in your ear as he grabbed your waist with one of his hands, his claws scratched you and you knew you would be sore all over the next morning. “Do you want my knot? Do you want me to fill it completely?” He pumped his own dick while rubbing the head of it against his crying hole, which was trying his best to suck him inside. Your own cock began to twitch, getting excited to cum again.

“Yes! I want your knot! I need it, Zoro!” You screamed without any shame, knowing that Zoro loved it when you became uncontrollably vocal, shouting how much you loved and needed him “I need you to fill me Zoro! Please! I need your cum inside me!” You cried shamelessly trying to rub your ass against him.

“Shit… You’re my needy boy, aren’t you? I'm going to fill you so good, I'm going to fill you completely... You're going to take my fucking knot and I'm going to fill you with my cum again and again until you're full and pregnant with my puppies” he breathed heavily into your you heard as he began to slowly thrust into you, giving you time to get used to his cock which was bigger and more swollen due to the full moon “You want this, don’t you? Carry my puppies? Being the daddy of our pack” he growled at the idea.

"Yes! I want to! Please, Zoro! I want to carry your puppies! Oh!” You screamed as he thrust harder, shoving a large portion of his cock in at once. “I’ll be a good dad, I promise!” You didn't even have control over what you were screaming and begging for anymore, you just needed him.

“I know, I know you will” You both knew it was impossible for you to get pregnant, after all you were both amab men, but that didn't lessen the fantasy of Zoro filling you up until you were pregnant with his puppies. “I’m going to fill you so fucking good you’ll be dripping”

And when Zoro rammed the rest of his cock in, pressing into your prostate so hard that you came immediately, feeling your legs giving out and your eyes rolling back to their fullest as you could feel his cock so deep and swollen inside you that you definitely had a bulge in your stomach, you knew that was definitely a promise.

[partially-controlled-chaos]

Indulgence: Something Sweeter

Pairing: Halsin x GN!Reader Rating: E (Explicit) 18+, MDNI/NSFW Warnings: Kind of porn without plot, but most of the plot is in the previous section of this. Fingering, oral (m receiving and GN receiving), finger licking/sucking, nipple play, penetrative sex in orifice of your choosing, biting, predator play if you squint really hard. Summary: Halsin has always struggled with indulging in the more pleasurable aspects of life. However, with the shadow curse lifted and your group now on the road to Baldur's Gate, you and Halsin find time to indulge in a bit of fun and a sweet treat before retiring for the evening. Word Count: 12.8K (7.5k of which is smut about 1/3 of the way down) a/n: As usual, this took me significantly longer and ended up much wordier than I had originally anticipated, but that seems to be my thing. I tried my best to keep this as gender neutral as possible and I think I did well with it, but keep in mind that I just self insert my Tav when writing so if there are mentions of a gendered reader, I'm very sorry. Anyway, this is a follow up to another fic I posted a little while ago, but you don't have to read that in order to read this one. This one is main all about the smut, but if you'd like to know the context behind some things as well as the tension build up, you can find the first part linked below! I've written smut before and I've posted a few snippets here and there, but I've never posted an entire fic for it so I'm about to post this and dip out for the night. Thank you so much to everyone that has left love on the first part of this!

Read on AO3 here if you prefer! Part 1 of this fic can be found here. Masterlist

The area surrounding the town Rivington was uncomfortably hot and incessantly muggy, days of rain left the air humid even after the sun had long set below the horizon. Given the heat of the day and the exhaustion that had come with it, you and your party had decided to camp early for the evening, ready to get a good nights rest before arriving in Rivington and ultimately into Baldur’s Gate. The last remaining rays of sunshine had turned a vibrant orange with streaks of gold, giving you barely enough light to see what you were doing without causing injury to yourself.

Sweat lazily rolled down the back of your neck, tickling the hair at the nape as you focused on steading your hand. The sharpened blade of your knife gently sliced through the soft, malleable wax of the honeycomb you were carefully trying to harvest from the beehive hovering above you. You turned your blade slowly as you cut, gently nudging the occasional honeybee out of the way with the tip of your finger as to avoid harming them. You were precariously balanced on the stump of a dead tree that you’d pulled to the hive and wedged between the roots of the tall oak that you stood before. 

You managed to slice a decent sized chunk of honeycomb from the tree, holding it carefully between your fingers to keep from crushing it as you bent your knees into a squat. You dropped the fresh honeycomb into a glass jar that that sat nestled between your mud covered boots, your fingers clutching the bark with your nails to keep yourself steady. As you stood back up to collect more of the honeycomb, you could hear the ever growing buzz of the bees you were dangerously close to upsetting. You stuck your knife back into the wax, beginning to slice again as you heard a slow stride of footsteps approach.

“And how many stings have you collected this evening, my friend?” The deep rumble of Halsin’s voice carried through the silence of the forest. He referenced your run in with a hive of angry bees from a few nights prior, having been stung multiple times in an attempt to get a jar of honey after a strong craving for something sweet. By the end of the night, you wound up sitting cross legged in Halsin’s tent as he meticulously pulled bee stingers from numerous welts across any bit of exposed skin.

“Your humor escapes me sometimes, did you know that?” You asked as you peered over your shoulder, offering a playful smile  to Halsin as he joined you, standing by your side as you attempted to balance yourself on your tree stump. Your balance was unfortunately short lived as a bee zipped by your head, making you duck as a reflex. Given that you weren’t the most graceful person to walk amongst your group, you quickly lost your footing and starting the quick fall backwards.

Thankfully, like he had done at the pond a few nights prior, Halsin managed to catch you before you left the top of your stump. However, instead of taking him down with you, Halsin’s stance was firm and was able to support your weight. His hands quickly grabbed the back of your thighs, which were at chest level for him because of the height given to you by your makeshift stool, and held you firmly. With a light shove, he pushed you back into your stool and held you until you had regained your footing.

“Just as caution escapes you.” He said as he continued to brace his large hands against the back of your thighs, holding them firmly in his grasp. Your heart fluttered as you felt him pressing against you, clearing your throat before returning your knife to the honeycomb. You sliced another chunk from the hive, dropping the sweet treat into the open jar as Halsin offered it to you, having taken it from between your feet. Satisfied with the fullness of the jar, you cleaned your knife on the rim before sheathing it back against your hip.

“I’ll have you know that you’re the only reason I’m here.” You said as you hopped down from your tree stump, sticking your fingers in your mouth to clean them of any remaining honey.

“If my memory serves me,” he said as he wiped the rim of the jar with his finger, “I don’t believe we declared a winner for that little game of ours. Instead, you toppled into the lake and took me with you.” You chuckled at the thought, remembering night fondly. You had promised each other a jar of fresh honey for whoever could skip a stone the farthest across a lake at your previous camp, but the night had ended with you both in the lake and aching for a kiss. You had longed for more with Halsin even before that fateful night, but since then it had been a burning desire that gnawed at your heart. 

“We didn’t, but we both know I certainly win that little game. And I’m afraid we’re running out of time for another chance.” Your eyes remained on his finger, watching as it circled the rim of the jar and cleaned it of any honey that had dribbled down the side.

“I’m afraid it does.” Halsin said softly, a hint of sadness flickering in his voice, suggesting he shared your sentiment. You both stood there quietly, unsure of what to say next or where to take the remainder of the evening. 

The shine of the leftover honey on Halsin’s forefinger caught your eye, tempting you to take a taste of it for yourself. You eyed the thick droplet of honey that threatened to drip onto the forest floor below, gently biting your lip as you tried to fight back the urge that had suddenly come over you. Unlike Halsin, you always had much less self control over your actions and frequently dove into impulsive thoughts with reckless abandon. With that in mind, you took Halsin’s hand in your own, eyeing the thick, amber colored syrup on his finger for a moment before sticking the entirety of his forefinger into your watering mouth.

They honey was sweet and thick against your tongue, a delightful treat that briefly alleviated the stress of day. Given just how sticky and fresh the honey was, you were unable to quickly clean Halsin’s finger of the substance. Your tongue wrapped around the tip of his finger, swirling the digit briefly before pressing the extremity to the roof of your mouth and suckling gently. Your eyes flicked upwards to meet Halsin’s, holding his stare as you diligently licked and sucked the honey from his finger teasingly slow. 

Halsin’s heart beat rapidly against his chest, pounding against the inside of his ribcage as he watched and felt every second of your tongue dancing across his skin. Your tongue was soft and wet, caressing every bit of skin you came across with a delicate touch. However, there was a bit of roughness from time to time, the feeling of your tastebuds prickled against him as you continued to lick. With your tongue pressing his finger to the roof of your mouth, you had created a deliciously tight suction around his finger, making it throb in tune with his steadily pounding heart. The suction was strong enough that even if he wanted to, Halsin would have had difficulty removing his finger from your mouth.

Halsin felt the all too familiar of tension of arousal forming in his shoulders and neck as his skin began to grow warm. The promise that you had made to each other for a secluded night away to indulge in each other had yet to come to fruition, something always interrupting the peaceful camp nights to prevent you from sneaking away, and you both were growing restless. You and Halsin had almost made it a game of seeing how worked up you could get the other, all with the hope of the following night to finally be the night where you could drop all responsibilities for a few hours and simply lose each other in kisses and caresses. 

Halsin was much better at the spoken teasings. His words were able to quickly make your heart flutter and your cheeks flush, leaving you longing for more of his praises and composed flirtations. You, on the other hand, were much more efficient at teasingly soft physical contact; a sweeping brush of your shoulder against his bare arm as you walked your path towards Baldur’s Gate, your thigh just barely touching his own while sitting around the campfire, and even a lingering touch when you happened to brush hands with each other. This, on the other hand, was the most forward you’d been since you had both skipped stones together a few nights prior. You were growing impatient with waiting; you wanted him as much as he wanted you.

After you were certain his finger had been thoroughly cleaned of any remaining bits of honey, you slowly pulled your mouth from him, making sure that when he finally passed through the tight ring of your lips there was a resounding pop. You looked over your work, making sure you were satisfied with the cleanliness you’d offered before letting his hand drop back to his side. He cocked his head at you with a look of disbelief, surprised at your boldness only a few meters from your campmates.

“What?” You asked playfully, “It would be a shame to let it go to waste.” You offered a coy smile to Halsin before turning on your heels, promptly making your way back to camp to join your other companions for the march ahead in the morning, leaving the druid standing under the heavy cloak of the oak tree with a blush on his cheeks and a sudden tightness in his trousers, the jar of honey still in his hand. 

Halsin was sure that if he didn’t act now, a chance of having a night alone with you under the stars would never happen. Tomorrow, you and your team would arrive at Baldur’s Gate, the end of your journey together rapidly approaching each day that passed, and very soon he was certain you would part ways. You had both been waiting for the ideal moment when the camp was asleep and you could slip away together quietly, but the opportunity had yet to present itself. Between attacks from lingering cultists and interruptions from whatever creature lurked in the artifact you carried, a peaceful evening where you could indulge in the other was nearly impossible to come by. Halsin wanted a night with you, desperately, and he was sure you did as well, but if that were to happen it needed to happen now.

You felt Halsin’s hands secure themselves around your waist with a grip that wasn’t firm enough to actually hurt, but enough to maneuver you around as he wished. He pressed your back along the rough bark of the tree, far enough away from the still calm beehive that you could no longer hear the faint buzzing of the residents inside. Your foot knocked against the jar of honey he had dropped when he reached for you, leaving it to the ground for now as you came face to face with the druid. Halsin’s pupils had dilated when you looked up to him, noting that the pulse point in his neck was thumping rapidly.

“You have been teasing me with that touch of yours for days now.” Halsin’s voice was low against your ear, a slight waver to his voice as hot breath that came out in quick pants tickled the hair on your neck. He loomed over you, his forearms braced against the tree as his mouth hung teasingly close to yours. You could see his chest heave with each breath, pressing against the fabric of his camp clothes with each carefully controlled inhale. Despite his usually calm demeanor, you could see the self control beginning to crack and the long suppressed warmth of excitement begin to peek through. 

“And yet,” you whispered, “you’ve done nothing about it.” Halsin cocked his head slightly to one side, a playful smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Although you weren’t completely incorrect with your statement, he took no offense. You were both aware of the lack of opportune moments that the road to Baldur’s Gate offered since your night together in the woods, so if anything, he took your words as an invitation to finally act on long suppressed impulses.

“Then I believe it’s high time I change that, hmm?” Halsin asked softly, your own heart beginning to increase in speed as the reality of the moment set in. Halsin’s eyes closed as he readied himself to steal the kiss from you that he’d been fantasizing about for weeks now, but you hadn’t quite finished in your teasing of the druid just yet. Before his lips could brush yours, you ducked under his arm, rolling against your shoulder until you pushed off the tree and out from under his frame before flitting around to the opposite side.

Halsin’s head lifted, a quizzical look crossing his face as his gaze followed the path you had taken around the tree, craning his neck to catch a glimpse of you. He kept this hand along the bark of the tree, dragging it along as he walked around, surprised to see that you had seemingly disappeared. Although you were not as sneaky as some of your other campmates, you were light on your feet compared to Halsin, giving you an advantage in the game you had started. 

With his attention still focused on finding you at some point along the tree, you had managed to quietly slip around the whole of the oak, quietly stepping behind the druid. You ran the tips of your fingers lightly against the top of his hand, noting how the hair on his arm prickled at your touch. Halsin swung his body in the direction you had come from, his heart rate picking up when he realized you were teasing him even more. He was met with another empty space, finding that you had vanished yet again. Taking a few steps forward, Halsin creeped along the tree the best he could, hoping to find out on the other side.

A tingle ran up his spine when he felt your nails lightly scratch over his lower back through his tunic, a low growl coming from his lips as he quickly reached one of his large arms behind him in an attempt to grab your arm before you could scurry away again. However, you had evaded him once more, leaving him to begin his hunt around the tree yet again. Halsin’s ears perked and his gaze flicked to a nearby tree at the sound of a soft whistle, smirking to himself when his gaze finally landed on you. You had managed to dart to a tree further in the woods, lazily leaning against the trunk as you waited for him to follow. 

Halsin’s fingers lingered on the tree as he stepped away, slowly approaching you in your new spot. Your eyes fell to his hips, entranced with the way they swung with his distinctive gait. His manner of walking was always something that grabbed your attention, having learned early on that there were a few traits from the bear that bled into Halsin’s day-to-day life and his walking pace was certainly one of them. As he stepped closer to you, your eyes traveled up from his waist and met his eyes, which were filled with an equal mixture of lust and excitement. When he finally made his way, Halsin reached for you with a hand that trembled ever so lightly with excitement.

Before his hand could make contact with you, you had taken a step back and disappeared behind a tree once again, clearly set on continuing your little game. You both quickly fell into a rhythm of teasing touches and quick darts to the next tree. As much as you enjoyed simply teasing the usually calm man reaching out for you, you had other reasons. You wanted to get far enough away from camp so you could indulge in a bit of privacy if things processed the way you expected, not wanting to be disturbed by a feathered companion or someone coming to investigate any peculiar noises emanating from a bit of shrubbery.  

You twirled and weaved your way deeper into the forest, the sounds clanking pots and laughter filled conversations from camp were slowly dying down, gradually replaced with the soft, lulling sounds of a warm night. The approaching silence made it much harder for you to scamper away undetected, allowing for a few close calls of being caught in the large hands of the druid steadily pursuing you. Admittedly, this only added to the excitement of the evening. Something about narrowly escaping from a man who spent a large portion of his time as a predator stirred something in your abdomen, leaving you with a light tingle at the thought.

Your game continued for quite some time with you leading Halsin further and further into the forest. By the time you had reached a large willow tree seated by the edge of another pond, you were satisfied with your distance from camp. You pressed your back along the trunk of the tree, allowing yourself a quick moment of rest while you listened for the footsteps that had been following you. However, you were only met with silence. You heard or saw nothing from Halsin, realizing now that you were no longer in control of your little game.

With your back to the water you peered around the trunk of the willow, curiously looking for any signs for the elf that had previously been hot on your trail. You found no signs of Halsin, beginning to think you had potentially left him behind a few trees back. The forest was peacefully quiet, save for the choir of crickets chirping in the distant grass and the occasional croak of frogs somewhere closer to the water. You stepped slowly and quietly around the edge of the tree, your breath leaving your mouth with silent exhales so you could keep yourself hidden in the darkness that now surrounded the area, the sun having set quite some time ago. The forest was seemingly empty as you circled the tree in its entirety, still stepping lightly as you began to leave the willow so you could circle back along the path you’d come from.

A firm set of hand suddenly gripped you firmly by your waist, much rougher than before, pulling you back suddenly and pressing you against the willow with enough force to cause a soft grunt to escape your lips. Halsin’s body was now pressed against yours, holding you securely to the tree. He quickly pressed his knee between your legs, rubbing against your inner thighs and effectively keeping you in place. You gasped lightly at the contact, the feeling of his body against yours after so many nights of teasing and yearning had set your limbs ablaze. And, given the feeling of something warm and quite firm pressing into your leg, you could only assume he felt the same. 

“You should change up your pattern next time, my friend,” he said softly, “it’s easy to learn.” His hand came to rest at the base of your throat, his thumb gently caressing the top of your collar bone as the rest of his fingers grazed the back of your neck.

“Clever bear.” You said with a slight chuckle, your voice tapering to just barely a whisper. Your own hands came to rest lightly against his biceps. 

When Halsin’s lips finally met yours, he let out a soft moan as his eyes closed, losing himself in your embrace. Your lips were soft against his, gentle and caring and everything he had dreamed about. Halsin had longed for your touch and ached to feel your lips against his, often thinking about their taste and feel while alone in his tent. He could feel a raging heat rise along his neck and into his face, even reaching to his ears after a moment. His hand left the softness of your neck, instead replacing it with the roughness of the bark behind you. His nails dug into the tree, trying to find something to distract him from the call of the beast that was beckoning him close to the edge of losing composure.

“You’ve been eating honey, haven’t you?” You asked between kisses, picking up on the faintest taste of honey as your tongue darted across his lips, “I can still taste it on your lips.” 

“I have, but I've made sure to save some for another night. I want to know what it tastes like on your tongue and on your skin.” Halsin rasped, “But tonight, I want to taste something sweeter.” You shuttered at his response, tightening your grip on his arms firmly as you felt his tongue swirl against yours, taking your breath from you with each passing second.

With his hands placed securely along your hips once more, the druid pulled you away from the tree he’d pressed you against, lips still heavy on yours as he led you to a pretty patch of grass by the waterside. You followed him blindly, trusting in him completely as your fingers began tugging at the ties on the front of his camp clothes. Halsin smiled against your lips, thoroughly pleased by your enthusiasm as he followed suit and slid his hands underneath your own shirt. His hands caressing and stroking your bare skin under your shirt caused you to shiver and a tingle to settle in your cheeks. Halsin’s touch was slow and gentle, allowing him to truly take the time to appreciate the feel of your supple skin against his hands.

Halsin pulled your tunic over your head, tossing it to the side before returning his hands to your body, focusing his attention on working pulling open the ties to your trousers. Despite the looming size of his hands, his fingers were fast and nimble as they loosened your laces just enough to allow your trousers to easily slide down your legs along with the remnants of your small clothes. Your boots were kicked off somewhere between Halsin pulling your trouser ties open and the same trousers colliding with the ground, although in the heat of the moment you couldn’t recall exactly when. 

You, however, were not as skilled in freeing the druid from the confines of his camp clothes, unsure of what tie opened which flap and just where the seam of his trousers started. Halsin chuckled softly, finding the confidence you had carried all evening quickly leaving as you struggled with his clothing. Being merciful, and a bit impatient, Halsin stripped himself of his garments, tossing them along with yours off to the side, his sandals having long been flung in different directions. 

Halsin took a step back from you, both hands still holding yours as he simply observed your naked form standing before him. You were breathtaking and beautiful, more than he could have possibly imagined in those long, lonely nights in his tent, and imagine he did. A warmth spread to you chest as he drank in your body, suddenly feeling shy by being bared in full to him. You took the time to observe him as well, more than impressed with the man that stood before you. Simply given the size of his arms, you knew he was muscular and well built, but it was different when actually seeing him in person.

With a gentle tug you were pulled towards him, your chest pressing against his as Halsin kissed you again. He groaned softly into your mouth, his eyes sliding closed as his hands roamed along your back and sides, lightly squeezing as he felt you beneath his fingertips. Your own hands traveled along his chest and arms, feeling the definition of muscles from years of fighting and roaming, but you could help but noticed just how warm his skin was. He always ran on the warmer side from what you could tell, but now he was almost hot to the touch.

He pushed away from you suddenly, arching forwards as an all too familiar heat rose in his chest. You took a step back, unsure of what was going through his mind as you watched Halsin grit his teeth, a light snarl and plea to Silvanus for guidance. It didn’t take long for you to figure out what was happening as you watched him fall to all fours, erupting in a familiar flash of golden light. The hulking frame of the elf was soon replaced with one of a cave bear, panting with heated breath and emitting rumbling growls. You knelt to the ground, knees touching the tender grass as your eyes remained fixed on the bear before you, your hand reaching out slowly to try to make contact. Your hand brushed against his wet nose, which was still blowing out warm breath with each pant. 

“It’s all right,” you said softly, “you’re all right.” Your hand slowly moved to the snout of the bear, your fingers running through the coarse fur in an attempt to calm him down. It took some time, but soon enough the frantic breathing of the cave bear finally calmed and settled into a steady rhythm. Before long, the bear erupted into another flash of light, leaving Halsin before you once again.

“I-I’m sorry,” Halsin stammered, “the beast is difficult to control at times, especially if blood runs hot. I lose myself and it takes over. Forgive me, please, the urges are just too strong at times” Halsin remained low to the ground, leaning on one knee with his back still hunched. His palms were facing you and his hands had the slightest of trembles. His mind raced as he knelt before you, emotions swirling and settling in his chest, cursing himself for allowing all control to be lost in such an important moment. 

“Halsin,” you said softly as you reached out again and placed a hand over his chest, “don’t ever apologize for that. It’s not a beast and neither are you.” His chest was unbelievably warm, but had cooled slightly, and his heart beat frantically against his chest. It was more than just arousal that caused the reaction in his body; it was fear. You glanced to his face and saw nothing but a mixture of panic and regret. Your heart ached at the sight, having never seen the strong man reduced to genuine fear in front of you.

“It’s in your nature. You of all people should know that.” You moved your hand from his chest and rested along his cheek, cupping it softly in your hand, “Don’t ever feel ashamed and don’t hold yourself back on my account.” His hands once again made purchase on your hips and pulled you closer to him, much lighter than before, as if he was afraid that touching you would change your mind.

“And, if I’m being honest,” you continued, “I quite like the bear.” You saw his eyebrows knit together slightly, head cocking to the side before he spoke again.

“The bear?” He said with a bit of hesitation, “You…like it?” You smiled with a slight chuckle. The back of your fingers softly caressed his cheek, feeling the roughness of his skin against yours as you tried to soothe any worry that lingered in his mind.

“I do,” you said softly, “but I’ll indulge the bear another night. Tonight, let me indulge in you.”

Halsin’s lips were on you before you could barely get your words out, hungry and firm against your own. His hands cupped your face, pulling you as close as possible to him as he took your breath away. With his lips to yours and your words still echoing in his ears, Halsin relaxed, feeling safe to be himself around you. You accepted him the way he was, even with a seeming lack of control at times, and it was almost euphoric. The weight of shame and guilt having been lifted with your words and soft touch. It wasn’t long before one of his hands cradled the back of your head and the accompanying arm ran down the length of you back. He used this position to gently lower you onto the grass below, quickly topping you with his own frame.

The grass was soft against your bare skin, the blades tickling your back as you felt Halsin settle above you. The druid’s hips settled between your parted legs as the length of his body rested just above your own, lightly grazing when either of you moved. Your hands ran along the expanse of his bare chest and shoulders as his lips met yours, his large arms resting by your head. You felt Halsin’s fingers weave their way through your hair, softly scratching at your scalp as he took his time exploring your lips. It wasn’t long before he deepened the kiss, moaning against your lips as his tongue asked for them to part. You happily obliged, letting his tongue easily slip into your mouth and explore to his hearts content. One of his hands left the tangle of your hair, settling along your cheek and jaw. Halsin’s thumb tugged at your lower lip, keeping your lips parted ever so slightly for better access. 

After some time, Halsin’s lips left your own and slowly moved towards your jaw, giving you the chance to catch your breath as he focused his tongue on other areas of your body. There was no rush or sense of urgency in his movements as Halsin kissed his way down the column of your throat, simply enjoying and relishing the moment he’d been waiting to share with you for so long now. Your skin was warm from the night air and the blush that had started to grace your skin, radiating against Halsin’s cheeks as he pressed soft kisses against you. He suckled gently against the tender skin of your pulse point, feeling the steady pounding of your heart beneath his lips until a light bruise had formed before moving to your collar bones.

You heard a gentle growl come from Halsin as he kissed your sternum and felt the soft placement of tongue tickling your skin before his lips followed suit. His movements were slow and gentle as he made his way lower, fully content with savoring every moment of you underneath him. He loved the subtle reactions your body gave when he kissed and licked a new spot, taking note of what you favored. The way your heartbeat quickened as his hands traveled lower along your body, how your fingernails would brush against his shoulders and lightly scratch as his own teeth would graze your skin, and the quiet sighs that would escape your parted lips when he found a particularly sensitive bit of skin; all of it a symphony to the druid that was slowly losing himself in you.  

A shaky moan broke the quiet serenity of the forest when you felt Halsin latch on to your nipple, taking the hardened bud between his teeth and giving the lightest of bites before soothing it with another kiss. Your back arched off the softened patch of grass and lightly into the air as your head rolled to the side, more gasps and sighs spilling from your lips the more Halsin serviced your nipple. You felt his hand slowly slide from your ribcage to the arch of your back, pressing you closer to his own frame all while caressing your sweat slicked skin. It wasn’t long before he switched sides, your body tingling at the ministrations of his teeth and tongue against your sensitive skin. Your eyes closed as your hands explored what you could reach of his upper body, eventually coming to rest along the top of his head.

Your fingers brushed along the tips of his ears as you explored his body, which earned you a sharp bite to your now swollen nipple and a tightening grip along your waist. Your eyes reopened and looked down the expanse of your body, admiring the glistening of kiss marks in the moonlight against your skin. Halsin’s eyes were focused on your features, meeting your eyes with a lustfully clouded gaze. You bit your lip with a devious smile, realizing just how much the faintest touch against his ears had excited him. With a slightly firmer touch, you ran your fingers along his ears once again, letting your nails graze ever so slightly. Halsin responded to the touch with a low moan and giving an involuntary thrust against the ground.

The druid continued his descent downwards at a slightly faster pace, having been spurred on by the teasing to the tips of his ears. He continued to hold your gaze as he kissed down your body, feeling the rise and fall of your stomach as you inhaled deeply and released with each shaky breath. His hands grasped your hips, softly squeezing and caressing the soft flesh there as his mouth finally reached that lovely spot that rested at the apex of your thighs. Halsin planted gentle, loving kisses to the sensitive skin surrounding your entrance, teasing you ever so slightly as he took his time in exploring your most secret of places. 

Your thighs instinctively wanted to close and press themselves against Halsin’s head as he teased and tasted you, wanting to keep him there as long as possible. Your hips rolled under his touch and your back arched further, desperate for his contact on your most sensitive spot. You felt him chuckle against your skin, causing a deliciously sensational warmth to begin to pool in your lower abdomen. His hands traveled from your hips to your outer thighs, caressing and grazing with his fingertips as his lips found the velvety soft skin of your inner thighs. After a few more kisses and even a light bite to the soft skin, Halsin’s hands gently pried your lightly trembling thighs from the sides of his skull, pulling them wide until they were kissed by the grass beneath your body. He kept them open by resting his heavy arms on your thighs, giving his hands the opportunity to focus on more important matters. Halsin teased your entrance with a finger and tongue, lingering for just a moment before finally granting you the satisfaction of slipping inside.

“Halsin…” His name slipped from your lips as nothing more than a whisper as you felt him taste you, the bulk of your breath having been taken away when he first teased your entrance. Your hands desperately searched for any part of your lover to cling to, but given just how high the arch had gotten in your back, you were struggling to make purchase. You settled for winding your fingers in the grass beside you, pulling and tugging at the tender blades until they ripped and you needed to find more. 

Halsin glanced up to you, his mouth and tongue still working their magic on your body as he added a second finger, curling at just the right spot to make your body quiver in bliss. He smiled as best he could at your expression, considering that his lips were occupied. Although pride was not something the druid typically felt, it coursed through him as he watched your mouth open and close with soft gasps and the way your eyes knitted together tightly in time with each exhale. Watching you, the normally well put together leader of the group of misfits he’d so eagerly joined, melt into a puddle of whimpers and moans by his touch was enough to make his already painfully hardened cock throb and weep at your image.

Your back rose and fell with each roll of your hips against his teasing, surging with pleasure with each swipe of his tongue as you flitted closer and closer to the blissful edge of release. You felt teeth, tongue, lips, and fingers; anything and everything Halsin could use at his disposal to bring you to your first release of the evening. He held his hand along your abdomen, slowly sliding up towards your chest so he could feel as much you beneath him as possible. Halsin wanted to feel you writhe and squirm under his touch and wanted nothing more than to feel the shakes and convulsions your body would offer when you finally reached your orgasm. You quickly released your grip on the grass you’d ripped out by the root, replacing the handful of foliage with Halsin’s own hand. Fingers were soon intertwined and you held to him tightly, your knuckles turning white as the contact grounded you and allowed you to focus on the tightening coil deep in your belly. Each exhale turned into a breathy moan that only increased in volume as Halsin intensified his efforts, determined to swiftly bring you the release you desperately wanted with a flick of his tongue. 

Your legs began to tremble under Halsin’s arms as he brought you closer to the edge, heat surging in your abdomen as your muscles along your thighs began to tighten. A sudden rush of warmth and indescribable satisfaction washed over your quaking body, jolts of pleasure fired through your muscles as you finally broke the barrier. The sensation made your mind cloud as you rode our your orgasm, still feeling Halsin’s tongue and lips tending to your sex. Your eyes closed as the final waves washed over your body, your breath coming in deep inhales as the feeling subsided much too quickly for your liking. The feeling was euphoric, but you wanted more.

Halsin kissed up along your body quickly, leaving your tingling lower half to bring his face to meet yours once again. Your mind still reeled from your orgasm as you felt his lips against your heaving body. Halsin kissed you gently on your cheek, brushing stray strands of hair from your face as you continued to come down from your peak. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer to you as you tried to regulate your breathing once again. His skin was warm under your touch, the lightest layer of sweat forming along his back from the heat of the night air. Halsin kissed along your jaw until he pressed his lips against yours once again, tender and soft when compared to frantic movements just moments ago. 

“More?” He asked after breaking from your lips, taking the time to wipe a bead of sweat from your brow as your eyes finally opened for him.

“More.” You said with a nod between pants, your body still trying to regain some sense of composure from the feeling you just experienced. Halsin’s mouth returned to your skin at your words, licking and sucking along your neck as he waited for you to settle once more. Your skin was pleasantly warm, a combination of the heat of the night and your exertion having caused the change in your body temperature. He adored the blush that had settled on the apples of your cheeks and poured onto your neck and along your chest, the sense of pride returning to him as he admired the state of your body all due to his touch. Halsin could still taste you on his lips as it mingled with the sweat from your neck, finding the taste to be almost intoxicating.

Halsin was still lazily planting wet kisses along your body, tasting as much of you as he could as he moved to your chest. When you felt strong enough to move again, your hands and fingers ran along his neck and shoulders, feeling the definition of the muscles that lay just beneath your fingers. Years of roaming nature had toughened his skin thanks to the touch of the sun, but in your exploration you had found a few spots still supple. You traced behind his ears and along the back of his neck, feeling his skin prickle and twitch under your touch and you found yourself wanting to feel more. Given that he was distracted, you took the opportunity to have the upper hand. You playfully shoved Halsin’s shoulder from you until you had the druid pressed onto his back in the grass with a surprised grunt, throwing your leg over his hips until you had him straddled. 

“I believe you’re stronger than you let on, my friend.” Halsin said with a sly grin, impressed at the swiftness of your movements given your previous orgasm.

“I am when I need to be.” You said softly, adjusting your position in his lap as Halsin sat up just slightly, leaning back to place his weight along his forearms. He simply enjoyed watching you above him, seated ever so nicely in his lap as you took your time exploring with your fingers. Your chest was still heaving slightly from your orgasm just moments prior and the druid had his eyes glued to your form, drinking you in and memorizing every dip, curve, and blemish that adorned your body. With the soft light of the moon behind you, illuminating you in a glowing halo, he watched as a bead of sweat rolled from the side of your neck, lazily rolling over your collar ones and onto your chest before getting lost somewhere in the skin above your navel.

“The Oak Father truly broke the mold with you,” Halsin said softly as his eyes continued to wander across your naked body, “I’ve yet to see anything in nature that compares to your beauty.” If you weren’t already blushing, you were now. You leaned forward, kissing his lips as an appreciation for the compliment. 

“Don’t sell yourself short.” You murmured against his lips, taking the time to kiss them once more before moving your way down his neck. Both of your hands rested on his shoulders, beginning to move along his chest as you kissed and nipped lightly down his throat, searching for more tender expanses of skin. You felt him shudder with each light graze of your teeth against his neck, a satisfied hum coming from you with each nibble. With a light touch, you ran your fingertips across the expanse of his chest, feeling every bit that you could reach while still slightly leaned over his frame.

You returned to your previous position, pressing yourself up from his chest while allowing yourself to marvel at the hulking elf beneath you as your fingers continued to roam, feeling and caressing with a gentle touch. You traced along the thick veins in his arms, feeling the firmness of the surrounding muscles of the biceps that could easily have their way with you. His heart beat steadily in his chest when your fingers grazed over his pectorals, enjoying the feeling of the thick hair that coated his chest. While your fingers enjoyed their exploration of his chest, making sure to graze over and toy with his hardened nipples as your eyes traveled further down his body. He hissed at the contact, but loved every moment of your teasing fingertips along his skin.

Your gaze followed the line of coarse hair that trailed between the defined muscles of his chest and abdomen and came to an end at the base of his cock, which was seated nicely between your thighs. You smiled to yourself as you watched his member twitch and bob under your touch when you ran over a particularly sensitive spot, resisting the urge to tickle those areas when you came across them. Your forefinger ran along a nonsensical path around his abs, simply keeping the hand occupied as the opposite finally reached his throbbing cock, which was steadily dripping his arousal in a long stream along his stomach. With a quick flick of your gaze to Halsin, you dipped the tip of your forefinger in the pool of his spend, rubbing small circles to coat the digit before you finally brought your coated appendage to your lips.

“Something sweeter, you said?” You asked with a feigned innocence as you held his gaze, finding the anticipation in his face quite amusing. You could feel his muscles tighten beneath you as he anticipated your next move, his eyes flicking between your half lidded eyes and your coated finger hovering mere centimeters from your lips.

You ran your tongue along your coated finger, engulfing the entire digit in your mouth once you had reached the tip and the first taste of Halsin’s arousal had touched your tongue. You took your finger to the knuckle, cleaning the appendage quickly. Halsin’s hips bucked upwards as he watched your finger slowly slip from your mouth, thrusting you forwards until your hand collided with his chest to keep you from falling flat against him. 

Halsin’s shifted his weight to rest on one of his forearms, using his now free hand to grasp your jaw, pulling you into a heated kiss with a quiet growl. His tongue was in your mouth in an instant, tangling with yours in an attempt to feel as much of the mouth that had teased him all day. With your tongues dancing with one another, you slid your hand down his chest and stomach before ghosting your fingertips over the weeping head of his cock. Halsin released his mouth from yours to as his breath caught in his throat, his grip leaving your jaw as he fell back onto both arms.

You returned your lips to his body, planting sloppy, open mouthed kisses along his chest, steadily working your way lower as you followed the trail your fingers had previously taken. You could taste the sweat that had formed on his body as your lips traveled lower before you finally pulled away, admiring the trails you’d left along his skin. Your fingers had gone from simply teasing the sensitive head to stroking along the length of his cock in long, fluid movements. He pulsed in your grasp as you continued your stroking, squeezing in varying strength along his cock, stopping occasionally to rub small circles along his oversensitive cock head. 

“That touch of yours will be the end of me one day.” Halsin whispered as his head tilted back against his shoulders, his eyes closing slowly as he allowed himself to enjoy your movements. You watched as his chest heaved with each stroke of your hand, his breath coming in and out through his nose as he tried to keep himself collected and under control. Halsin felt his muscles tense and his heart pound under your touch, his body finally indulging in your long sought after touch, and he wanted the feeling to last as long as possible.

“Is that a promise of more nights like this, then?” You asked with a curious look, wiggling your way off his hips, choosing to settle between Halsin’s thighs to give yourself a better position for what was to come.

“Many more, if that is what you wish as well.” Halsin managed to choke out between sighs and soft groans as you stroked your hand along the length of his throbbing cock at a steady pace. Each flick of your wrist became easier over time, the slick that had fallen from the weeping tip giving you plenty of lubrication to work with. With lust filled eyes you looked up towards the druid as you began to lower your head to meet your hand.

“Oak Father, preserve me.” Halsin’s low voice wavered as he spoke, a shudder wracking his body as the flat of your tongue ran along the underside of his cock. His eyes reopened and he lifted his head long enough to watch as you wrapped your lips around his swollen tip. Halsin finally dropped to his back, his arms giving way underneath him as your tongue swirled the cock throbbing in your mouth. Like you had done with his finger earlier in the day, you pressed the tip to the roof of your mouth, creating a firm pressure to the overly sensitive head. 

Your tongue was softer than velvet against Halsin’s cock, swirling and suckling around the tip with enough pressure to make him squirm in pleasure. He moaned softly with each swipe of your tongue, his hips thrusting upwards ever so slightly to create more friction against your warm, wet mouth. With his tip still securely pressed to the top of your mouth, your tongue worked wonders on the underside of his member, focusing on the sensitive space on the underside of the tip. You suckled away on his cock while your hand continued to stroke lazily along his base. As he did with you, you took your time in exploring his cock with your mouth, listening to the delightful moans and sighs that came from above you.

Halsin let out an exasperated sigh when you finally released the suction from his cock, which allowed you to begin your teasingly slow descent. Your lips were pressed tightly around his cock, still creating a light suction as you worked your way down, although your pace wasn’t entirely due to just wanting to tease the man writhing at your touch. Given just how large of a man that Halsin was, you were under no illusions that his member would be anything less than large, but you truly weren’t prepared for just how impressive his size actually was. You took your time in an attempt to service his length in a way that was pleasurable to both you and Halsin. 

You took him further into your mouth, his tip beginning to slip into the tightness of your throat as you focused on not choking along his length all while keeping a steady breath. Halsin’s fingers found their way into your hair, settling on the crown of your head as he felt you lower yourself to your limit, a light gag coming from your throat before you pulled back up. His simply rested his hand along your head as you began to bob along his cock, gradually picking up speed as you became more comfortable with your limits. He didn’t pressure you further than you wanted or tried to change your pacing, but simply needed something to grasp onto as he worked his way through waves of pleasure. He wanted you to enjoy yourself as much as he was, and the last thing he wanted to do was to make you feel pressured to go beyond your limits. For this, you were thankful.

You soon found yourself in a rhythm, guiding your head up and down along the length of his hardened cock with ease, occasionally ending with an audible gag if you pushed yourself too far. For now, he was too large for you to comfortably handle, so you made use of your still slicked hand to stroke and toy with the portion of his shaft not covered by your mouth. From time to time you’d pull away, allowing yourself a few sucking breaths of air before your lips returned to him in some way either through licking any neglected areas or sliding it back into the heat of your mouth. His spend was salty against your tongue, yet something you swallowed eagerly. 

Halsin’s breath hitched and the urge to buck wildly into your warm mouth was becoming too much to handle as he felt a tingling warmth begin to settle in his groin. His fingers grasped at your hair lightly, desperate to anchor to something more substantial as he fought the urge to spill into his own orgasm. However, he resisted, wanting to save that wonderful wave of pleasure for something more intimate than your teasing mouth. Your eyes met Halsin’s once again as you continued your ministrations to his weeping cock, your gaze tender yet blissfully hazy.

You felt his fingers untangle themselves from your hair, dragging along your cheek with a loving touch. You nuzzled your cheek into his palm as best you could, your mouth still fully occupied with pleasuring the cock that was dangerously close to spilling over. Halsin gripped your chin gently, pulling you up and off his pulsing member with a shaky breath. His eyes were drawn to the line of spittle that still connected your reddened lips to the tip of his length, gently wiping your lip with his thumb as your breath came out in pants. You struggled to catch your breath as he held you in his grasp.

“If you keep going like that,” Halsin said after he’d regained some of his composure, “this night will be over much sooner than either of us would wish.”

“We have all night, do we not?” You asked as your tongue flicked across your lips, collecting any remaining spittle that lingered.

“We do, but let us hope that the sun is slow to rise.” Halsin murmured quietly before closing the gap between your bodies. He took your lips with his once more, tender and sweet as he came forward, urging you onto your back for the second time before parting from you. Your body settled into a fresh patch of grass that was slick with the beginning touches of dew forming on the blades. You sighed happily into the night air, your body succumbing to the gentle touches of the druid. Halsin’s hands softly grabbed the underside of your thighs, giving them a light squeeze as he parted your legs for him. 

Your heart fluttered as he crawled up the expanse of your body, his arms and hands surrounding you as he knees knocked your legs open a bit further. His kisses and touches had become light and feather soft, caressing your lips and body with a touch so gentle you almost couldn’t feel it. He was holding back as if touching you any more firmly would thoroughly break you. You had to admit that you understood his concern, given that the bulk of his frame was currently looming over you and he was a bit larger than you had anticipated.

“You don’t have to restrain yourself with me,” you said between kisses, “I’m sturdier than I look.” You brushed stray hair from his face, tucking it behind his ear and out of the way. You knew Halsin wanted something a bit more rugged. He was more than content with slow, languid kisses and soft touches, but you also knew that he had been pent up for quite some time between suppressing his own emotions for years and your own teasings as of late. You wanted him to enjoy himself just as much as you were. 

Holding back his feelings was something Halsin wasn’t accustomed to doing on a day-to-day basis; he wore his heart on his sleeve and made his emotions clear. You, however, were the one exception. He had been attracted to you for quite some time before either of you had made it to your current situation, yet he was hesitant to come forward with those feelings. Decades of denying himself something more meaningful and vulnerable simply couldn’t take a priority over his duties, so now that he was presented with the opportunity, Halsin had hesitated. But now, you both were here in each others arms, fully exposed and having tasted the other in some fashion; now was not the time to restrain feelings.

“I have no doubt about that, believe me, but either way I promise to be gentle.” Halsin said with a slight chuckle, “At least for now.” Halsin wanted nothing more than to hold you down and have his way with you until you were a puddled mess, but he also knew when the time was right. Although you were more than ready to try and take him, the last thing he wanted was to hurt you in his overeagerness. Instead, he opted to take things the more gentle route until he was sure you were up for something more vigorous. 

He pressed his lips to yours once again in a lingering kiss, moaning softly against your mouth as he lined the tip of his cock up with your well slicked entrance. Your body shuddered at the feeling of his warm, throbbing tip pressing against your eagerly awaiting entrance, the feeling of him being so close made your muscles melt beneath him. As slowly and carefully as possible, Halsin eased his way into you, earning a sudden gasp from your kiss swollen lips. He moved his own lips to your ear, cradling the opposite side of your face as he guided himself deeper into you.

His lips were soft and tender on your temple, kissing lightly when you hissed or made a gasp that sounded more uncomfortable than pleasurable. Halsin took his time, guiding his movements in accordance to your body’s reactions than his own lusts. From time to time you’d press your palm against his hip or stomach, quietly asking him to wait until you could adjust. When you did so, Halsin listened, waiting until you were ready to continue as he peppered your cheek with more kisses and whispered praise or encouragement in your ear. You moved your hand from his hip when you were ready to continue, whimpering softly as he continued the slow movement into your heat.

When Halsin had fully seated himself inside you, he released groan from deep within his chest, savoring the feeling of you around his hardened cock. You were warm and tight, which was everything he had expected from you, but the actual feeling of you wrapped around him was euphoric. With everything you had done for him so far, you had once again exceeded his expectations. With this, he wanted to begin moving against you and feel you expand and contract around him, but he paused. Halsin remained still inside you, waiting for your approval before continuing. He knew you needed time to adjust and he would allow you to take as much time as you needed. In the meantime, he simply enjoyed the feeling of being buried deep inside you.

Your eyes closed as you inhaled deeply, adjusting to the size of the length buried inside you. He was large, but not uncomfortable. Halsin was exceedingly gentle with you, not wanting to hurt you with his size, but you were ready for more. You met his haze once more before giving a gentle nod, urging him to continue.

“You have been more than worth the wait.” Halsin murmured in your ear as his hips began to move against you, taking your lips once more with his before you could respond. Your moaned against him, the feeling of his cock slowly slipping out of you before nuzzling back in made a light warmth settle on your cheeks and made your heart flutter with anticipation. You stayed like this for some time, your arms wrapped around each other while connected by your lower halves, taking everything slow and steady until your body had grown accustomed to the size of the cock nestled deep inside you.

However, it wasn’t long before you felt comfortable with his size. Your hips rolled against his, asking him to begin picking up the pace as any discomfort quickly subsided and was replaced with pleasure and ecstasy. Halsin eagerly complied, pulling his arms from you slightly so he could rest along his palms, his hips rolling against yours as he kept his thrusts light, but just slightly faster. Your hands ran down his chest like they had done earlier, feeling his muscles flex under your fingertips with his movements. Halsin was correct, he and this moment were more than worth every moment of teasing and waiting that you’d experienced. He was worth it.

Halsin sat back, resting his weight on splayed knees so he could watch you from above. His hands explored and grasped at the expanse of your thighs as he watched your body writhe and roll under his touch, desperate to meet his cock with a roll each time he sheathed himself fully into you. His eyes searched your body, unsure of which part of you to settle on for more than a few seconds. He wanted to take in every bit of you as he thrust his hips into your warmth. Your face and chest were covered in a deep blush and glistened with sweat against the glow of the moonlight, parts of you bounced each time his hips snapped to yours and became almost hypnotic if he started too long, but in the end he decided that the most delicious part of you to watch was simply just how well you took his throbbing cock. His eyes traveled to where you both were joined, mesmerized by how your entranced stretched with each thrust to accommodate his size, but so early accepted him back in each time he fully entered you. The view combined with the feeling of your heat squeezing around him was almost enough to send him into a frenzy.

Halsin gripped the underside of one of your thighs, lifting it from the ground until the back of your leg rested against his broad chest, opening you up more for him, but also allowing him a better view of his cock disappearing into your heat. His lips and tongue found the skin of your leg and left sloppy, wet kisses along the sweat soaked skin as his fingers pressed firmly into the soft flesh of your thigh. His other hand traveled to your lower half, feeling your muscles tighten in your abdomen as your released neared. He used his fingers to brush across your most sensitive spots, a playful smile gracing his lips as you responded deliciously to his touch.

Your body was on fire, aching and throbbing with heat as Halsin snapped his hips to yours with each thrust. The sound of wet skin smacking against skin and mingled with grunts and moans filled the quiet evening air, making any animal in the area scamper off quickly at the noise. Your cheeks burned with exertion and desire, a feeling that was equally matched in the fire that was ignited in your lower belly. You could feel the string of pleasure begin to coil, knowing it wouldn’t be long before it snapped once more. Your hands grasped and squeezed at your chest, fingers flicking across and occasionally pinching your hard and sensitive nipples, eliciting sharp moans into the air that sent shivers down the back of the druid.

“More,” you gasped out as you felt the coil deepen, “please.” Your voice was almost a whine, needy with desire and lust as Halsin continued his movements.

Halsin moved instantly at your words, pressing forward until his chest met yours, your leg still pressed against his chest as your knee now rested close to your face. He moved your other leg to rest on his other shoulder, his hands shaking at the feeling of you practically halved beneath him. His arms kept your legs from slipping off his sweaty shoulders as his hands came to rest by your head, one of them tangling in your hair with a firm grasp. His lips found your neck and offered a light bite to the soft flesh, making your mouth fall open at the contact. Halsin thrust into you more firmly, knees and toes digging into the grass beneath him as his pace increased. 

Your own hands found purchase on his body, one resting on the side of his warmed cheek and the other tangling with the knot he kept tied at the back of his head. Your body trembled beneath his as your second orgasm starting coming to a peak, knowing it wouldn’t be long until it crashed over your body. Halsin’s eyes remained locked to yours, entranced by the look of pleasure that covered your lovely face. You panted against each other, breath mixing together and only adding to the heat of the moment.

“You’re almost there, my heart.” Halsin panted against you as his forehead rested along yours, “Let go. Let me feel you.” The new use of a pet name and his coaxing send sparks flying through your body, awakening some sort of arousal you’d have to explore more at a later time. For now, however, his words and movements were enough to send you over the edge, your body shaking with a delicious heat and pleasure as your legs trembled against his shoulders. Your orgasm rushed through your body, sending bolts of electricity along your spine as you rode it out. You tightened your hold against Halsin’s cock, which was still thrusting into your sensitive entrance. The sudden grip on him almost caused his to experience his own release, but the druid held firm and made the feeling subside. As much as he wanted to feel his own pleasure course through him, he wanted to take you one final time before indulging in his own pleasure. You moaned and whined, your body twitched and shook under the last remaining licks of your orgasm, your mind hazed with pleasure and exhaustion.

With a swift movement, Halsin removed your trembling legs from his shoulders, pulling them to the side as he flipped you to your stomach. While still in your daze, you felt his hands press against your chest and around one of your legs, easily lifting your still trembling body from the ground and a better position so you could lay comfortably on the ground before pressing you firmly into the grass beneath you. You were taken by surprise, your mind swimming with enough pleasure and haze that you hadn’t fully processed his movements until your cheek was met with a patch of grass, leaving your arms pinned between your own chest and the ground. Halsin’s hands gripped at your hips, swiftly tugging them upwards and towards him with an almost desperate pace. 

You let out a moan at the sudden change of position, letting Halsin rearrange your limbs with ease as you still were reeling from your orgasm. Halsin parted your legs once again, settling nicely between them as he realigned himself with your still trembling entrance. He entered you more quickly than before, still taking note of not being too rough with you, making sure you were comfortable with how he was seated within you before he began his thrusting once again. You whimpered as he picked up the pace, your swollen sex still sensitive from your climax as it tingled and clenched around the druid’s impressive length.

Halsin's hand traveled the length of your back as he steadily and firmly snapped his hips to yours, knocking you forward just slightly with each thrust. Halsin admired the beauty of your body, even from a less than flattering angle. The way your hips curved into your waist, the small dips in your lower back that lead to a steep curve in your spine caused by his movements, and the taught muscles in your shoulders that were defined from battle all enticed him even more. Halsin had admittedly fallen for you based off your merit and kindness, but he couldn’t deny that you were beautiful inside and out, especially when splayed out underneath him.

Your skin was hot beneath his touch, both from exertion and the heat of the night, and your body glistened under the moonlight. He had longed to feel your skin in his grasp for some time now, the thought alone keeping him up many nights as he struggled to subdue his own feelings for the sake of duty. The thoughts that would plague his mind of the caress of your hands had only intensified with your recent teasings, making the feel of your skin slapping against his all the more pleasurable. As his hand caressed the skin of your hips and back, Halsin had enough sense to flick the pieces of grass and dirt that had stuck to your skin from your previous position, lovingly brushing you clean as his hips were mercilessly slamming into yours. You felt his hand grip your shoulder, desperate to hold you in place as he chased his release. 

Your breath hitched as you felt Halsin’s hand firmly grab your shoulder, giving him better leverage to thrust into you from behind. The sudden change of pace from soft and loving to frantic and rough wasn’t quite what you were expecting over the course of the night, but it was a most welcome change. Up until now, Halsin was focused on your pleasure and release over his. He was attentive and loving, making sure your had expended yourself to your limits, even denying his own release when he felt the luscious feeling of your lips wrapped around him.

But this was different. It was still caring, given that Halsin wasn’t ramming into you with his full strength, but this was for him. He was finally allowing himself to indulge in the pleasures of the flesh that he had denied himself for so long. He was desperate to make it last, to have this night make up for years of denial and longing, but you could tell he was nearing his end. Your ears were greeted with a symphony of grunts and growls rumbling deep in his chest the harder he slammed into you. Although you were met with no discomfort, just a delicious feeling of being pressed into the ground by your lover.

Halsin’s grip on your shoulder was strong, simply given the size of the druid, but not quite enough to keep you from shifting underneath him. He released your shoulder, which was now slightly red from his hold, and slid his hand to your back once again, resting between your shoulder blades with his fingers splayed wide against your dampened skin. You let out a moan and a wheeze as you felt the air leave your lungs, leaving you with a deliciously pleasant sting as Halsin pressed into your back firmly, lifting himself slightly to apply as much pressure as he could without causing you harm. You were now securely pinned to the ground, allowing the druid to slam into you without the inconvenience of you slipping out beneath him.

You both let out a pleasurable moan at the new position, the angle allowing Halsin to slip fully into you and pound away at the wonderfully sensitive spot deep inside you that made your vision blur each time he made contact with the tip of his cock. Halsin was practically hovering over you, taking in every bit of your body as he barreled towards his own release. He watched the way his cock slipped in and out of you effortlessly, given his size, and the way your body graciously accepted him. Halsin could feel his legs begin to shake and the pacing of his hips begin to falter, stuttering every few thrusts as he came closer to his orgasm.

“Look at me, my heart.” His voice was gruff and shaky, but it was more of a plea than a command, one you happily complied with. Your haze was a bit foggy, but you looked over you shoulder as you remained pinned to the ground, your mouth hanging open in an attempt to breath as best you could with the pressure on your back. Your lips tugged into a slight smile as you peered up at the druid, the sight of him coming undone because of you brought you more joy than you could have previously thought. You met his gaze with half-lidded eyes, but there was more than just lust behind them and Halsin could see this as well. There was no doubt that your pupils were dilated with lust and pleasure from both your orgasms, but there was something more meaningful. There was trust, admiration, acceptance, and if Halsin’s own lust fogged mind could be trusted, perhaps even the faintest hint of love behind the beautifully bright eyes staring back at him.

Your gaze and the feeling of your warmth clenching around his cock was the final act that sent Halsin over the edge. An uncharacteristically loud curse left his lips as he hunched forward, digging his heels into the dirt as he thrust into you a final time. His hand lifted from your back and collided with the ground beside your head to keep from crushing you beneath his weight and it allowed you a sucking breath as Halsin spilled himself deep inside you. His opposing hand was still firmly gripped to your hips, holding them in place as his body shuddered with each contraction of his muscles. Each warm rope that spilled from his cock sent waves of pleasure down Halsin’s back, making his muscles twitch and tense with each burst. He released a low grunt every time he spilled, each one landing deep inside you, filling you with a gentle warmth.

Halsin fell to his forearms as he slowly fell from his peak, his head coming to rest softly against your shoulder as he panted against your skin. The druid finally released your hip from his grasp, the desperation and intensity behind his grip had finally softened as his body began to relax against yours, softly rubbing your sweat soaked skin to soothe the marks he’d left on your posterior. He littered your shoulder blades with a string of slow, loving kisses, placing a few to the back of your neck. You both lay there for a few precious moments, simply enjoying the feeling of being so close to the other while still connected, your minds slowly falling down from the blissful peaks you had climbed towards.

After giving a final kiss to the area between your shoulders, Halsin pulled himself from you gently, knowing you both were now a bit sore and rather sensitive. You whimpered softly as you felt him slip out of you, already missing the fullness he offered. With the bulk of his weight now off your frame, you finally managed to pull one of your arms out from underneath you, bracing it on the ground before hoisting yourself onto your hands and knees. Halsin went down to his side, pulling you with him with a quick roll as he settled for the evening. Your head rested along the expanse of his bicep, rolling to rest your cheek to his skin as you lay along your back, one knee coming up to bend and help you adjust. 

“Are you all right?” Halsin asked as he brushed more bits of grass from your cheek with his free hand, plucking blades from your temples and your hairline.

“Very much so.” You hummed softly, your eyes becoming heavy as you melted against his touch.

Your skin had finally cooled after the activity from the night, leaving you with tacky skin, but free from beads of sweat. Despite the heat coming from Halsin’s body, you were pleasantly warm and thoroughly satisfied for the evening. You lay together, wrapped in each others embrace on the forest floor, listening to the lulling sounds of the night as you simply enjoyed the silence. Halsin’s free hand traveled along your body, gently caressing and mending any wounds that may have appeared during your rougher moments. 

“Can I offer you a wash?” He asked after a moment, having run along your body several times. You looked to him, offering a gentle smile with tired eyes. 

“That sounds lovely,” you murmured, leaning up to leave a slow kiss to his lips, “but let’s stay here for a spell. I’m not quite ready to return to camp just yet.”

Halsin tugged you closer to him, your bodies fully pressed to the other as the arm you were resting on had wrapped around your shoulders. You tossed your leg over his, tangling your legs together as one of your arms wrapped around his midsection. With the sun still below the horizon, you had a few hours of darkness left before returning to camp was a necessity, giving you a few precious moments together to simply be. You and Halsin spoke softly, whispering sweet words and blush worthy compliments to each other, caressing and touching and learning the details of the other. Eventually, the low rumbles of Halsin’s voice filled you with a sense of peace, causing your eye lids to droop and fall heavy. You fought the feeling, simply wanting to stay awake to enjoy the moment.

“Rest, my heart,” he whispered against your hair, “we’ll find more moments for each other.” He placed a single, gentle kiss to your forehead, pulling away when your eyelids finally closed for the evening and your mind began drifting off to a moment of restful sleep.

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